All three men dove at the same time, all grabbing at the explosive. Buck's hand found it first and he spun to throw it back out. A second before releasing it he registered the fact he had no idea who else might be out on the street. He turned back, throwing the device with full force into the small back room before joining the others in diving under the furniture. They all stared, not breathing. Waiting. And waiting. Buck figured close to a minute had passed since the window broke when he decided to stand up. He thought back to the grenade.

"I won't swear to it, 'cause it's been a while since I held one, but I don't think that was heavy enough."

"Somethings wrong with it, or we wouldn't be standing here talking about it." Vin concurred. Chris had already headed to the back room, and a moment later came back with the device. He turned the bottom to the men. They could see a small red 'x' marked there.

"A dud." Buck stated the obvious. It wasn't uncommon for faulty devices to be marked so they could be used for drills or training. In the heat of the moment, the mark understandably was not noted.

"A warning, or did somebody make a mistake?" Vin wondered.

Buck tried to find a positive spin on it. "We must be annoying somebody, else why would this have happened?"

Chris growled deep in his throat. "Standish. I'm gonna kill the bastard."

"Whoa – that's a bit of a leap." Vin countered.

"Really? A few hours after we talk to him this happens. You don't see a connection?"

Buck agreed with Vin. "You're forgetting, we spent the rest of the afternoon walking the streets and asking questions. Not to mention the past day and a half. Lots of possibilities there."

Chris rubbed his hands over his face, reluctantly accepting the logic. "Yeah – guess so." He thought about further. "Besides, can't say I see this as his style, and the man does seem to be all about style."

"Go home Chris. Get some sleep." Buck shoved him toward the door. "I'll grab a few boards from the back alley and clean this up. Tomorrow, we start again."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

It was getting late in the afternoon of a day that had been about as unproductive as any that Chris could remember. No one seemed any too willing to talk to them about Travis, or corruption, or pretty much any other subject they brought up. Obviously word was out that they were off limits.

Given the choice between wasting time and energy on the street, or heading back to wait for the guy they had called to fix the window, Chris chose option B. He'd been too agitated to get much sleep after the incident the previous evening and wasn't in any frame of mind to try to question folks politely. He'd taken the car back to the office, declaring Buck could get a ride later on the back of Vin's Indian Scout. Buck didn't look thrilled with that, not being a big fan of motorcycles, and Vin didn't seem too excited about the extra rider either. Chris didn't really care.

He was putting some paperwork into the file boxes in the closet when he heard the door. "Didn't hear Vin's motorcycle Buck. You walk –". He cut himself off when he realized he had unexpected company.

Chris was reasonably certain he was supposed to be intimidated by the number of men his new guest had with him. The effect was just the opposite. Anyone who needed this much back-up was likely someone who was fundamentally a bully and a coward. Still, he did realize that with Buck out of the office, a fact he had inadvertently shared, he was outgunned. Discretion was definitely in order. He moved over to his chair, leaning back and putting his boots on the desk.

"Can I help you?"

"More likely the other way around Larabee. Understand you've been looking into things that don't really concern you."

"Who's asking?"

"Forgot, you're fairly new around her. Detective Henderson, Denver PD.

"Law enforcement's finest."

He chose to ignore the clear sarcasm. "Doing you the courtesy of warning you off before things get unpleasant."

"Just doing my job."

"No, sounds like you think you are doing my job, and that is not a good idea. You need to back away from anything on the Travis case."

"Got something to hide?"

"You like living dangerously, don't you cowboy?"

The boots came off the table and Chris stood. "You really just call me cowboy?"

Henderson smirked, but the look froze on his face when a voice came from the back room.

"Yeah, he did." Vin walked out with his weapon drawn, pointed just far enough down that no one would be able to claim he was aiming on them.

"He really hates being called cowboy." Buck added from the side door, cocking his shotgun.

The detective offered a weak grin. "Then he shouldn't wear the boots. Look, gentlemen. I think we all got off on the wrong foot here. I simply wanted to advise you against interfering in a police investigation."

"Our information is that your case is closed." Chris took a couple of slow steps closer.

Henderson held his ground, despite the overwhelming instinct to step back. "Had to tell that to the widow. She was pestering us most every day. Women don't understand how this world really works. Had to try to settle the little lady."

"So, you haven't closed the case."

"Let's just say we remain open to possibilities."

"Well then, let's us just say we are looking into finding some of those possibilities for you. We'll be sure to let you know anything we find of interest." Chris gave a small nod to Buck, who stepped over and opened the door to usher the cops out. He closed it firmly behind him.

"Think we just got ourselves a new enemy."

Chris went back to his seat and opened the thin file. "What we got was the first clear sign of who we are looking for. All we need now is to prove it."

"Well hell," Vin grinned, "is that all?"

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

Chris wasn't happy about being back at the Ace of Spades for any number of reasons, not the least of which was the overwhelmingly tempting aroma. The bar was definitely open this time, and the smell of good whiskey was quickly weakening his resolve. It was bad enough that coming here was basically putting him in the suave criminal's debt. He really did not want Standish getting any clue as to how tempting the thought of a decent drink was to him.

He scoped out the room, taking in as many faces and voices as he could. You never knew when a bit of knowledge of this sort could come in handy. He recognized a lot of faces. A lot of people who really shouldn't be here, from politicians to the husband of the local temperance league president. He couldn't help but wonder why these men were so willing to trust someone like Standish to keep their presence a secret.

He slipped back into the shadows a bit further when the establishment's owner entered the room. Standish stood quietly in the doorway for a moment. He was, as always, dressed to the nines. The tailored burgundy jacket flattered him, and at the same time hid the gun Chris was certain he had on him. He'd be a fool to go unarmed, and there was no way this man was a fool. He carried an elegant walking stick, even though Chris could see reason it was needed. Brass handled, and a rich mahogany cane. Nothing about him was subtle.

A commotion at a corner poker table caught the attention of both men. The young waitress looked upset, trying to pull herself away from the groping hands of a patron who had imbibed far more than he should. Chris was ready to step out if things went too far but hoped to be able to hold off and see how Standish handled the matter. His curiosity spiked when they young lady pulled back enough for him to see the troublemaker in question was Deputy Mayor Andrew Watson.

Standish was at the gaming table in a few quick steps. The room quieted enough for the conversation to be clear.

"I'm sorry Mr. Standish…" she began. He silenced her with a look that was far more gentle than anyone might have expected.

"Thought this was a full-service establishment Ezra." Watson slurred out. "This tasty little skirt is being most uncooperative."

Ezra smiled coldly at the drunk. "The lady is not one of the services offered. I have informed you of that before and warned you what would happen should you try to force yourself again."

"Ah, now don't be like that. We were just having a bit of fun." He reached out and slapped her bottom, prompting a soft cry from her, and rapid movement from Standish. In just seconds the deputy mayor was pinned to the wall with the point of the walking stick wedged tightly under his chin.

"When I release you, you will offer an apology to the lady. I suggest you make a concerted effort to ensure it is as sincere as humanly possible, and it will be her option whether or not to accept it. You might want to pray that she does. If and when that happens, you will pick up your coat, and half of your winnings, and you will leave this establishment. If you are foolish enough to ever try to return, Tiny will be more than happy to explain to you the error of that decision. Any questions?"

"Half?" he gasped out.

"The balance is a punitive levy. A portion of that will allow the charming Miss Casey to have the remainder of the evening, and tomorrow, off, along with a pleasant meal, to recover from this encounter. If she requires additional time, I shall be in touch with you to make the necessary arrangements. Any further questions?" His tone left no doubt questions would be a bad idea.

Getting a small shake of the head as response, Ezra stepped back, never taking his eye off the subject, who moved to gather his possessions. "You have missed a step in the process." Ezra's voice was low, and deeply unsettling.

Watson grabbed for a glass but was stopped by the walking stick landing firmly on his wrist. He cleared his throat with a dry cough and turned. "My deepest apologies young lady. My actions were unforgivable."

"Thank you." Casey answered quietly.

When he got an approving nod, Watson gathered his possessions with his one good hand, mumbling angrily. Chris couldn't make out what was being said, but clearly Ezra did.

"I would advise against any such thoughts Mr. Watson. In the unlikely event you succeed, retribution would come from avenues you might never suspect." He watched the humiliated politician scurry out the door under Tiny's intimidating supervision before turning to the crowd. "And that concludes this evening's floor show ladies and gentlemen. Please return to the enjoyment of your activities."

He took the waitress gently by the arm, leading her off to the side. Again, Chris could not hear what was being said, but was surprised to see him pass her a handkerchief after wiping what he could only assume was a tear from her face. He watched her nod shyly, then head over toward the employee door. A minute later she returned wearing her coat, and Tiny showed her out the door.

In the time that had taken, Ezra made his way to Chris's hidden observation post. "Tell me Mr. Larabee, did you find the diversion to be entertaining?"

"Educational. Just what have you got in the tip of that stick?"

"Nothing at all. I cannot be held accountable for the erroneous assumptions of others when they elect to perceive a threat where none exists."

Chris grinned wryly. "Can see what Josiah meant about you."

"Listening to Mr. Sanchez can lead to any number of misconceptions. I would advise against taking him at his word."

"Well, between a preacher and a gambler, I'm pretty sure who I'd believe."

Ezra's smile was broad enough for Chris to catch a brief glint of gold. The man definitely had a unique flare.

"I know an excellent glazier to address the little problem you have with your front window, should you need a referral."

Chris glared at him. "And you know about that how?"

"You will find, if you hadn't already formed the conclusion, that there is little I am not aware of in this town. At least, little of interest."

"You know in advance?"

It was Ezra's turn to glare. "I was of the impression I had previously addressed your accusation that I was some sort of thug, to use the colloquial vernacular. I was neither aware of, nor a party to, the activity."

"No offense intended Standish."

"Offense taken Mr. Larabee. I have done nothing to inspire your distrust of me and resent the implied message therein."

Chris was flabbergasted by the nerve the man had. "Are you kidding me? You've admitted to being a criminal."

"Convenient labeling. Besides, in this town, in this era – who isn't? Now, to what do I owe the privilege of your company? Have you reconsidered your stand on abstinence?"

Chris glared for a moment. "We need to talk."

"For what reason?"

"Could make it worth your while."

"No, I don't believe you could."

"Nevertheless, I'd like to talk to you privately."

Ezra felt more than uncomfortable under the glare and had the unsettling sensation that Larabee knew that, despite his firmly entrenched poker face. "I presume asking you to make an appointment would be out of the question?"

Chris answered with a quiet glare and tilt of his head. Reluctantly, Ezra rose from the bar and let him back to the office.

Ezra's private space wasn't what he'd expected. While the common areas of the speakeasy were distinguished and elegant, the office had a far more relaxed feel to it. Formal, but in a laid-back southern manner. A large oak roll-top desk, a couple of leather chairs with the drinking table sitting in between. And in the corner, an antique card table. Definitely a cut above those used by the patrons. This was suitable for at least six players to enjoy a poker game in style. He was sure it was well used.

"Is it safe to talk in here?"

"To my knowledge, there is no one listening in any hidden alcove."

Chris stared at him for solid minute, neither man speaking.

"If this was the reason for your request, I am willing to concede you have greater patience if it will end this episode."

"Josiah says I can trust you. I'm not sure he's right."

"He is above reproach. He is also a poor judge of character."

"What do you know about dirty cops?"

"Primarily, that there appears to be an abundance of them. Really Mr. Larabee, common knowledge."

"The Inner Circle?"

"Rumoured. Mythical."

"No. Fact. Fact that got Stephen Travis killed."

"Why don't you share with me what other facts you have. Perhaps I can clarify a few matters."

Chris wasn't sure why he was hesitating. The whole point of coming here was for information, and he doubted the little they had was going to be news to Standish. "We don't have much that we could go to court on. Names of some of the guys down the food chain, and a decent idea who's at, or at least damn near to the top. Stephen Travis's notes would help."

"Inevitably. Shame they have disappeared."

"There are some out there who think you know where they are."

"Fascinating."

Chris sat back in the tall leather guest chair. "They seem to see it as strong odds." He had the uneasy feeling the man knew he was bluffing.

"I wouldn't put a significant sum on those odds, given the outcome would be impossible to prove." He had picked up a deck of cards from his desk and shuffled, flipping the top card occasionally, always turning up the ace of spades. "I cannot say emphatically where they might be, but I'm quite certain they are in good hands. What I can tell you is why he was killed. He found much more than just information. He found the Bible."

Chris stared at him with a blank face. "I take it you're not talking about a King James version."

"Records, dates, exchanges. Enough material to blackmail half the officials in town, at every level of government, law, and business. The possessor would be unstoppable should he choose to make use of the information."

Chris's eyes went black. "So, you figure it's your key to control, and you aren't letting go of it."

"How can I let go of that which I do not possess."

"I don't like being lied to Standish."

"And I don't like being threatened. Assuming, and I concede nothing, I have the book, why on earth would I pass it on to you?"

"Because I'm giving it to Travis."

"Which would in short order get him killed."

Chris tried to decide whether Standish was using the claim to try to discourage him, or out of a genuine concern.

"Further," Ezra continued, "I have only your word concerning that intention, with no evidence to encourage me to accept that you will follow through."

"And yet you expect me to trust you. Most people would say that was the fools move."

"I avoid doing what most people do. There is so little excitement on that route. I shall consider what you said, and in the unlikely event I should discover the item in question, I will consider contacting you. Now, if you will excuse me, I have an enterprise to watch over and since you refuse to purchase a drink, I think it would be best if you would to vacate the premises."

Chris stood slowly. "Don't cross me Standish. You will not be happy with the result."

"I could offer the same caution."

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

TBC