FULL MOON AND DENVER SEVEN
By AJ
Chapter Four
Friday started loudly in Denver with the arrival of the normally silent-as-the-wind Vin Tanner. He marched into the office and flung his jacket onto his desk, spectacularly clearing it of his stapler and paperclip holder.
"Whoa there, Junior," Buck yelped, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Run outta that tar you call coffee this mornin'?"
Vin glared at him momentarily, then looked around the office. "Where's JD?" he snapped.
"Getting' the tracking device for your rifle," Buck answered. "Don't worry, Vin, he'll be careful with it."
Vin reached back with both hands and man-handled his long hair into a ponytail. When he was done, he sighed in resignation and hung his head for a moment. "Sorry, Buck. Didn't mean ta bark. Lannen's an idiot and I don't like fact that he's tellin' me what to do. I don't like not knowing where we're goin'. I've got a bad feelin, s'all."
Lannen had called Ezra late Thursday afternoon to tell him that Vin had won the contract. They were to meet with Lannen at noon today, rifle in hand, but wouldn't tell them where they were going after that. Lannen insisted that it was a on a need-to-know basis and he, personally, had no need to know; his job was to simply introduce St. James and Nicklin to the contractor. Lannen would get paid his broker fee and be sent happily on his way.
Chris, drawn to his doorway by the less than subtle arrival of his team sharpshooter and friend, leaned against the frame rolling a steaming coffee cup between his hands. He understood Vin's uneasiness - this whole thing did not set well with him, either. He, Ezra and Vin had discussed it into the late hours of the night trying to decide how to play it. Since they had no idea where the pair would be going, they decided a tracking device or two was essential.
But where to put them? Logically, the only things guaranteed to be at the assassination site were Vin and his rifle. Tagging Vin would be risky so they decided to tag the rifle with a GPS chip and that is what was upsetting the Texan. The rifle in question was his pride and joy and the idea of anyone fiddling with it stuck in his craw. Vin Tanner did not like anyone messing with his things for whatever reason.
A second tracking technique would be through Ezra's laptop. Since the internet connection used cell phone towers, every time Standish powered up the computer and went online he would leave a trail. The two devices were the best they come up with in the time allotted.
Chris silently watched his friend. Vin let out a sigh and proceeded to pick up his desk items in a ploy to keep his hands busy. Just as he figured Vin was about to give in to his anxiousness and track down the electronics wiz kid, JD walked in with the rifle case. Vin's shoulders visibly relaxed.
"Hey, Vin! It's all done." JD handed the sharpshooter his case and Vin immediately set it down and opened it up. The two agents put their heads together as JD pointed out how unobtrusive the device was. "It's like Lojack. You turn it on and off by sliding this." He tapped a tiny metal slide incorporated in the seam where the rifle's body met the stock. "It's practically invisible. And only turn it on when necessary because the battery doesn't have much life to it – maybe a couple of hours. We'll be able to track you using cell towers when Ezra logs in on the laptop, too, but when you turn this on we can pinpoint your location almost immediately. Between the two, we'll know where you are."
Vin nodded in understanding, obviously pleased that his rifle looked unscathed.
"I hear we have a new job." Josiah's resonant voice announced his arrival. Chris looked up to see Nathan trailing the big man in the room. "Are we putting the Corklemann case aside, Chris?"
"For now," Chris said from his doorway. "We should be out of this one pretty quick and refocus on Corklemann and the Hanna cartel. Once we've identified Vin's target we're supposed to call in the FBI and local authorities to take over. This really isn't our bailiwick. It was just dumb luck we to stumbled across it."
Nathan dropped into his chair and tucked his hands behind his head as he leaned back. "Are we risking losing the Hanna cartel if we hand it over? Won't this jeopardize Ezra and Vin's standing with Lannen when the Feds stop the assassination?"
"According to Lannen, he's out of it after today," Vin drawled lazily, his attention on packaging the rifle. "The contractor wants to work directly with us. Lannen hasn't even seen the guy and doesn't know when or where the hit's takin' place. Doesn't even know the contractor's name. We can blame the guys that hired us for a leak."
"Where's Standish?" Chris said, looking at his watch. "We need to get movin' if you're meetin' Lannen at 8:30."
Just then the dapper agent strolled in the door with a grande Starbucks cup in his hand. "I apologize for my tardiness," he said. "I had to speak slowly for the new barista."
Josiah and Nathan laughed at Ezra's look of distain and Buck visibly perked up at the mention of a new female in the area to investigate. Before he could ask Ezra for more details, Chris interrupted.
"Conference room. Now." The team leader strode through the office toward the meeting room and the others immediately fell in behind.
oooooOOOOOooooo
Lannen waited for the undercover agents at a mall parking lot on the outskirts of Denver. He was edgy and Vin figured it was because this location was too public. The other times they had met with the man it had been in an open field or off road in some desolate place. Lannen acknowledged them with a sharp nod of his head. They exchanged tense greetings as an ordinary blue car pulled into the parking spot next to Lannen's vehicle. A lean Asian man slipped from the driver's side, eyes hidden by dark glasses.
"Mr. Lannen?" the man queried.
Lannen gave the man a nervous rake with his eyes. "You have my money?" he said shortly.
The sunglasses man spared Ezra a glance just before the reflective dark lenses stopped on Vin. "Mr. Nicklin, I presume."
"Yup," Vin replied sharply, not offering his hand.
"My money, please." Lannen asked in an edgy tone.
The stranger returned his attention to Lannen. "Certainly," he replied blandly. The Asian walked to the back of the car and opened the trunk where he pulled out a small duffle bag. "Here you go."
Lannen snatched the duffle from the man's hand and retreated to his car. Once there, he quickly unzipped the bag and rifled through it. From where he was standing Vin could see the numerous packets of cash through which Lannen pawed. Then, apparently satisfied, the rat-faced man zipped the bag back up and tossed it on the passenger seat as he dropped in behind the steering wheel of his car.
"I'm done here, gentlemen." Lannen's car started and he pulled away with out a backward glance.
"Edward St. James, Mr. Nicklin's partner," Ezra introduced himself to the Asian as Lannen departed.
"Please, get in the car and I will take you to your contact." Sunglasses man backed up and opened the rear door of his vehicle. Vin reached down and picked up his rifle case.
"I will place that in the trunk for you, Mr. Nicklin," the Asian said.
"Nope," Vin said sharply as he folded into the back seat. "It stays with me."
"As you wish." The man indicated Ezra sit in the front, leaving the back seat to Vin and his rifle. As soon as Ezra did so they were on their way.
"May I inquire as to the location of this task?" Ezra asked, adjusting the soft laptop case next to him. "And more importantly, are you authorized to issue payment?"
"All your questions will be answered soon," was all the man said.
They rode in the car for about forty minutes before pulling onto a very remote and private airfield. Vin immediately noticed the small Gulfstream jet standing by on the tarmac and his stomach clenched. As if he felt the reaction, Ezra turned and met Vin's eyes, giving him an infinitesimal shake of his head. It didn't help stay Vin's growing unease. A jet ride was completely unexpected at this point. Both agents only expected a meet and plan.
'Chris must be spittin' nails,' Vin thought distractedly. As a claustrophobic, Vin wasn't fond of flying. He could feel his palms becoming clammy with anticipation.
The driver stopped alongside the jet and hopped from the car, opening Vin's door for him and then circling around to open Ezra's. Vin exited, but once his feet were on terra firma he found he couldn't move them.
"Please," the driver said, indicating with a sweep of his arm that the two of them should enter the jet.
Ezra drew up alongside Vin, who swallowed hard and gripped his rifle case with a slick hand. Ezra touched his elbow, sending him forward toward the jet's stairwell.
"Perhaps the aircraft is merely acting as an office, Mr. Nicklin," Ezra offered quietly.
"I don't think so, Ed," Vin replied, his mouth dry. "I have a bad feelin' 'bout this." And Vin could tell that Ezra felt the same way. Even though the man's eyes were unreadable, Vin noticed the slight tenseness in Ezra's frame.
They entered the craft to find one man inside. The fuselage was small, containing four captain's chairs that swiveled, a small couch and a tiny bar area at one end. One of the chairs held a bald, middle aged Asian man – Vin guessed Chinese.
"Please, sit," the man indicated two of the chairs facing him with a sweep of his arm.
Ezra slid over to the window seat, leaving the roomy aisle chair for Vin. Ezra settled the computer on his lap while Vin tucked the rifle case between the chairs. Vin kept the open hatch in his peripheral vision as he worked to keep his breathing even – the walls of the small jet felt like they were closing in.
"Edward St. James," Ezra started, offering his hand. The Asian leaned forward and shook it with a small smile. "And this is Mark Nicklin."
Vin offered a tense nod only, not wanting the man to feel the dampness in his hand or hear the tightness his throat.
"I am Jong Wu. I have seen your talent with your rifle, Mr, Nicklin and am sure you will have no trouble with our contract."
"Yes, I am sure you won't," Ezra broke in. "I do not know if Mr. Lannen was clear about our partnership, Mr. Wu, but Mr. Nicklin and I are a team. I will handle all of the negotiations. You are already aware of what Mr. Nicklin brings to the contract."
"Yes," Wu said, almost distractedly as he studied Vin. "Yes, I am very aware of his talents and capabilities. The agreement was for five million?"
Ezra chuckled. "I believe the agreement was a minimum guarantee of five million. The balance would depend on the nature of the job. We are risking a profitable business for this contract, Mr. Wu. Any compensation would depend on the risk involved. You understand - supply and demand and such."
"Yes, I do understand, Mr. St. James, and I also understand that you are a hard but fair negotiator. With that said, let us get down to business, shall we?"
Vin half listened to the negations as he kept his eyes on the tiny windows and open hatch of the jet. He felt better seeing the mountains in the distance and he definitely wanted to keep an eye on any outside activity. He saw the blue car depart the air strip at a high speed. Then another car pulled into the sole hanger and shortly thereafter two uniformed men emerged from the building and headed toward the jet on foot. Vin immediately recognized the pilots' uniforms and his heart rate quickened.
The vague dread in his gut intensified when the two uniforms entered the jet. With a slight nod from Mr. Wu, they went directly to the cockpit and began what Vin recognized as a pre-flight checklist.
"Wait a minute," Vin interrupted. "We goin' somewhere?"
Wu raised his brows. Ezra turned to his partner and gave him a stern look. "It appears you were not paying attention, Mr. Nicklin." Ezra's voice carried a cautionary tone. "We are going to the location of the job. What Mr. Wu is reluctant to relate is exactly where that location is."
"Now? We're going now?" Vin had to work hard to keep the rising panic from his voice. Flying in this tiny craft with total – and more than likely dangerous – strangers did not sit well.
Ezra put his hand lightly on Vin's forearm to calm him and turned to Wu. "As you see, I am not alone in my reservations, Mr. Wu. Since you seem insistent on secrecy, I must insist on an open contract. Five million minimum with a two million retainer payable immediately. I would also insist on a caveat that allows additional compensation as the need rises. Our need, that is – Mr. Nicklin's and mine."
Wu sat with his fingertips steepled under his chin, nodding slightly. "Your needs, Mr. St. James?"
"Well, we have an example before us now. Mr. Nicklin detests flying. If you insist on flying us anywhere, we would have to insist on an additional fee to cover my partner's anxiety." Ezra paused to smile. "After all, it is much easier to face one's phobia for, say, and additional half – million?"
Vin had to work to keep his jaw from dropping - and he realized that the interplay helped distract him from his growing distress. He worked to focus on the negotiations instead of his racing heart and grinned tightly at Ezra's bold requests. He was really playing dirty at this point.
"Each and up front," Ezra added, the smile evaporating as he refused to drop his gaze from Wu's.
. . . more than dirty! 'Damn, Ez, you got some brass cojones,' Vin thought, smiling sickly.
Vin was more than astonished when Wu agreed with a nod. The shock, however, was short lived when he realized that yet another man had boarded and was closing the hatch. Vin's heart was jarred into racing when the jet engines fired up. He gripped the armrest until his knuckles ached and stared out one of the tiny windows. Two additional men trotted on tarmac, pulled the chocks from the jet wheels and signaled an all clear.
"Mr. Nicklin." Ezra's voice was warm in his ear. Vin just swallowed in reply. "Here. Take this." Vin finally tore his gaze from the window when his partner shook his shoulder. Ezra held out a pill that Vin recognized as a Valium.
"No," Vin choked. He didn't want to be drugged among strangers. He'd taken the pill before when the team had to fly somewhere but then, he had been surrounded by people he trusted. Here . . . this was different.
"Take half. It will help and you will still be alert." Ezra broke the pill in half. "You can take the other half if the need arises. I will be here to watch your back, I promise." The words were very quiet and only heard by the two of them. Wu had moved away to speak with the newest arrival so Vin took the opportunity to pop the half pill. Ezra retrieved a water bottle from the bar and Vin gulped down nearly half of it.
When Wu returned, the jet started to move and Ezra pulled out his laptop. "Now, Mr. Wu, I must insist on our three million dollar initiation fee." Vin felt a modicum of reassurance knowing that as Ezra fired up the computer, JD would be tracing the wireless signal and know where they were headed. He was able to distract his thoughts momentarily as he imagined Chris watching the jet take off - the rest of the team had been keeping visual surveillance from a distance. Right now, Chris was probably cussin' up a storm and issuing orders as fast as his lips could move. Imagining the scenario made Vin smile tightly for a moment.
Now somewhat distracted with visions of a spleen-venting Larabee, Vin sat back, closed his eyes and tried to ignore the bumps and shimmies of the jet taxiing and then taking off. This job had taken an early, unexpected turn and his only consolation was in knowing that they were being watched by five very competent and determined teammates.
oooooOOOOOooooo
"At least this pair blends into the background more." Samantha spoke lowly to Martin as they left the federal building for lunch.
Martin snorted in reply, fighting the urge to hold Samantha's hand. For some reason, the display seemed a little too personal for the eyes of the two marshals closely following. "I guess. At least the other two had a sense of humor. These guys haven't said more than a dozen words so far between them."
The latest guards started this duty the previous day, suddenly replacing Astin and Griffith.
"Do you know their names?"
Martin shrugged. "Rolls and Royce, Frick and Frack, I don't know. I don't care. They'll be gone on Monday."
Samantha chuckled and pressed her knuckle to her lips to keep it low. "I get the impression you're tired of this."
Martin shook his head with a sigh. "You have no idea. I am so ready for this to be over and done with."
Frick - or was it Frack? - opened the black SUV door and after quickly checking the inside, allowed Martin and Samantha to slip inside.
"It'll be nice to walk again instead of being driven everywhere," Martin groused. Samantha patted his thigh sympathetically and the warmth he felt from her touch could not be ignored. He leaned over and whispered in her ear before the marshals entered the vehicle. "Walk, and a few other things."
"Poor baby," Samantha sighed. She mover her hand up a bit more and squeezed his leg sympathetically, leaving her hand to rest high on his thigh. He placed his hand on top of hers and gave her fingers a squeeze, trying to ignore repercussions her touch ignited. And by her predatory smile, she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Yes," he groaned softly, squirming slightly with his growing physical discomfort. "It's going to be a loooooong weekend."
Samantha laughed shortly and ducked her head, taking his hand completely in hers. When Frick and Frack slid into the front seat, she leaned closely to his ear, her warm breath tickling his neck. "Not just for you, you know."
"Baseball," he said quietly, turning to look out the side window. "Must think about baseball . . ."
She straightened up, laughed a low, husky laugh and gripped his hand more tightly.
TBC