SAVING VIN - By AJB
CHAPTER SEVEN
Matthew Larabee was usually a patient man, but the unknowns of this situation chafed the raw ends of his nerves. Buck's clipped and brief message to come to the Federal building left no room for discussion; the urgency in the normally good-natured man's voice was enough for Matt to accept without question.
Time passed agonizingly slowly without any further information while they waited in the team's empty office. JD entertained himself well enough on Buck's computer, especially when either he or Claire sat with him, but as the hours passed Matt noted the boy's growing edginess. Vin could detect another person's emotional state with a glance but the more self-absorbed JD usually took a little longer. When he subconsciously did pick up the stress of a situation, the detection presented as whininess.
"Where's Da?" JD finally asked, looking tentative. "I'm gonna call him."
"No, honey," Claire said calmly, intercepting his tiny hand when it reached for the desk phone. "He said he'd call."
Well, not exactly, but Matt excused the small lie.
"But I'm bored! When's the movie? Where's Vin? What's for dinner?" JD swung his feet as he sat, his right foot connecting with the desk's side with each arc. Bang. Bang. Bang.
"I know, honey, but something came up. He didn't tell us what but he said to wait here. That's all we know."
"But we'll be late!" Bang. Bang. "I'm hungry!"
Claire stood and took his hand. "Come on," she said with extraordinary patience as she helped him off the chair. "Let's go find a vending machine."
"I don't wanna . . ."
JD's tirade cut off when a pair of agents stepped into the office. "Hello!" he chirped, all smiles. He pointed at the leading man. "I know you!"
"Well, hello yourself, JD," the older agent said cheerily. "Are these your grandparents?"
"Yep!" He pointed a pudgy finger. "This is gramma and that's grampa."
"Matt Larabee and my wife Claire," Matt clarified as he offered his hand. At the same time, he worked to ignore his alarm at the agents' arrival.
"Chris' parents. Nice to meet you both. I'm Agent McKellen and this is Agent Boise. You can call me Steve. Director Travis asked us to escort you to his office."
"That's Billy's grampa," JD said. "Is Billy here?"
"No, he's not. Sorry about that, JD." Steve grinned and ruffled JD's dark hair. "How about I let you push the buttons on the elevator?"
"Okay!" JD broke free from Claire's grip and bolted for the door. The four adults followed.
"What's going on?" Matt asked quietly. It didn't escape his notice that the other agent that trailed behind visually swept their surroundings as they moved along the hallway. Claire stepped up the pace to keep JD in sight and McKellen extended his stride to keep up. "I thought Chris was going to meet us here. Something's happened, hasn't it?"
The agent looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Mr. Larabee, but I really don't know what's going on myself. I was just told to get you upstairs."
That information did little to soothe Matt's nerves. He was grateful that he and his wife worked so well together in stressful situations; having Chris as their son had certainly forced them to be that way.
Matt grinned to himself with that thought, remembering how the strength of his son's character was clear from the day he was born. The horrible time that immediately followed Sarah's and Adam's death was the only time he and his wife were "disconnected" from their son. Vin was the one to bridge that gap and Matt's eyes burned with the memory, thankful again for the boy's gift of just being himself. Worry arose in his heart.
"Here we are." Agent McKellen indicated the outer door to Travis' office. He and Boise flanked the doorway as the three family members entered. Steve closed the door behind them.
JD, holding Claire's hand, looked expectantly around and broke into a huge smile when he saw Mrs. Clark, Travis' secretary. "Hi, Miss Barbara!" he chirped. "Here's my gramma and grampa!"
Mrs. Clark beamed back at the boy. "Hello, JD! Hello Mr. and Mrs. Larabee." She reached into a drawer and pulled out a large zip-lock bag full of crayons and a stack of coloring books. "Here, why don't you color something for me while Mr. Travis speaks with your grandparents? They'll be right in there. You've been in Mr. Travis' office before, haven't you?"
"Yep! He's got a big window," JD said, a bit of reluctance in his tone. Matt realized that the small boy, too, felt the tense air that enveloped this unexpected visit. Mrs. Clark clucked and fussed over the boy as she got him settled beside her at the desk. She glanced up and told Matt and Claire to go on in to the office when JD was finally involved with the books.
Claire's eyes rounded with anxiety and she took Matt's hand in a firm grip. "She's used up the last of her cool," Matt figured. He cleared his throat, assured JD that they would be right back then pushed the door open, trying not to feel like he was lining up for a firing squad.
"Matt, Claire." Orrin Travis stood as they entered and waved at JD through the open door. When the boy returned to his picture at Mrs. Clark's urging, the Assistant Director rose and closed the door. As he did so, Matt noticed streaks of dried mud marring Travis' dress pants and the distressed state of his shoes. The sight of it fueled Matt's alarm. Travis motioned for them to sit down and, noting Matt's observation, brushed some of the dried mud from his knees as he sat. "I know you must be worried," he started, sitting up and giving them his full attention.
"Yes," Claire said. "What's happened? Are Vin and Christopher all right?"
"Yes. I've just returned from his ranch. Let me catch you up." He briefed them on the day's events, keeping his voice low and calm. Claire clutched her husband's arm as the story unfolded and gasped at the news of the barn fire. Matt felt her tremble.
"Chris and Vin are together now at an undisclosed location. The team and I all agree it's for the best until we know whom we can trust. There will be no cell phone usage – it's too easily monitored. My offices have been swept for listening devices but that's only a temporary reprieve. If someone in the building is dirty, and I have no doubt there is someone, any of the lines coming in are suspect."
"So how will you communicate? Can we talk to them?" Claire asked.
Travis' smile lacked any mirth. "Looks like it's back to the old days," he said. "Pay phones and encrypted messages. Fortunately, there're a few of us that remember those days."
Matt grinned. "I know Morse code," he joked.
Claire snorted and unwound a little, leaning back in her chair. Travis chuckled. "Good to know. It may come in handy." He got serious again and leaned forward onto his desk, hands clasped together. "Vin will be put into protective custody as soon as I can arrange it. We will try to accommodate all of you but I can't guarantee anything at this point. Only myself and Team 7 are need-to-know. I anticipate that you will feel left out at times, and for that I am sorry, but it's the way it has to be for the time being. I hope you understand."
"All we care about is Vin and JD's safety," Matt said with Claire nodding in agreement as he spoke. "And we want to help along those lines."
"I am leaving those details up to Chris and Buck. For now, I'd like you to stay with JD, here, until we have a plan put together. Chris and Vin will stay right where they are for now. Agent Jackson is out of action for the moment so Buck, Ezra and Josiah will be pretty busy. I'm glad you're here for JD."
"So are we." Matt squeezed his wife's hand and grinned at her. She reciprocated with a shaky smile.
"Now, here are a few basics on living under the radar," Travis said as he began the Larabee's education on how to be invisible.
M7/ATF/LB
While he spoke to Travis, Vin grew heavy in Chris' lap and finally succumbed to sleep. Curled slightly into himself, Vin's ear was firmly against Chris' chest and one hand loosely gripped the front of his father's shirt. The other hand - the one he favored from time to time – was cautiously tucked close to his body. Chris wondered if any pain was real or remembered.
Realizing any phone lines into Travis' office held the possibility of being bugged or monitored Chris managed to reach his boss through the building's public line in the lobby. Tracing any calls to or from that number would be a nightmare. They quickly set up another conference time for later in the evening. Avoiding technology was going to make things difficult.
When Chris mentioned Kojay's offer about becoming a guide in an effort to not only calm Vin, but to get information, Travis brought up many good points.
"This isn't hypnosis, is it?" He asked. "Chris, if you do this, be very careful. You know the risks surrounding the power of suggestion. Do not interfere with Vin's memory; that's the quickest way to get any of his statements thrown out if we try to use it in court. You know that. Remember back in the '80's, all those 'false memories' implanted in those preschool children accusing their caretakers of Satanic rituals? You're walking a fine line."
Chris assured Travis that he would stop anything that looked like it would go that way. He was reluctant to refuse something Vin obviously wanted or pass on a chance to correct their frayed bond.
Travis was right. It would be a fine line to tread. He agreed that if they were to explore any of Vin's memories with hypnosis, it would be in the presence of Dr. Lowrey and the District Attorney.
Vin roused when Chanu entered the trailer. He and Kojay had been outside preparing a site for the "spiritual re-connection" as the elder called it. There was mention of a sweat lodge and Chris grinned as a story Josiah once told him flashed through his mind.
Always a willing explorer into the spirituality of other cultures, the team's profiler had experienced a sweat lodge once. All Chris recalled was that it involved incense, nudity, questionable libations, lots of sweat and a surprise visit by a Catholic elementary school field trip. Chris couldn't recall the details but the mental picture he'd formed at the time still scarred his brain.
Vin tilted his chin upward and frowned at him, blinking sleepily. "What're y' laughing at?" he rasped.
"Remind me to tell you a story about Josiah's sweat lodge experience," he answered as he brushed Vin's hair from his eyes. "Right now it looks like Kojay's ready for us."
Vin exhaled a deep breath and nodded, and then slipped from Chris' lap. Taking his son's hand, they headed to the trailer door and followed Chanu outside where the moisture thickened air was heavy with the earthy scent of woods. The sky was alive with shifting clouds but the drizzling rain had stopped and the wind capricious, yet light. They crossed the muddied grass in front of the trailer and entered a stand of trees lining a worn path.
"I took the horses to our neighbor's barn. They're dry and fed."
"Thank you, Chanu. You've been a great help and we appreciate it."
"You're welcome."
Beyond the trees, the trail cut along the face of a gentle, brushy slope. They followed the sweeping curve of the hill as the trail angled downward and passed through stand of trees. Once clear, they saw a dome-shaped structure perched on the bare top of a lofty hill. As they drew closer, Chris saw that it was made of tightly laced branches. Smoke drifted lazily from a hole in the center of the roof and the door was a faded blanket nailed across the doorway's header. Stacks of leafy branches stood to one side of the doorway and three buckets of water made a line on the other side.
Chanu told them to remove their shirts and then gave each of them a pine bough. The chill caused a rash of goose bumps on both his and Vin's arms. "It is warm inside," Chanu explained, gathering their clothes. "I will be out here." He held the blanket aside and Vin brushed past Chris to enter first.
Chris was surprised by the high humidity inside. He'd expected it to be like an old Vegas casino with several feet of dry, choking smoke hanging from the ceiling. Instead, the damp fog smelled of pine, rosemary and other rich vegetation and was constantly in motion. Kojay lazily fanned the glowing embers in the center of the room with his pine fan, causing the smoke to ebb and flow. The hole in the ceiling, as well as a window cut in one side, allowed fresh air, warmed by the hot smoke, to circulate.
The view through the rough-cut window centered on the highest peak of the mountain range across the green valley spread below. Rocks circled the fire pit and held the embers' warmth and hissed when Kojay sprinkled water on them to release steam. It was surreal and Chris felt instantly transported to another era.
Vin sank to the ground with a relieved-sounding sigh, crossed his legs and moved as close to the embers as he could. Chris settled beside him, taking a moment to allow his tense muscles to stretch and relax.
Kojay, sitting across from them, indicated that they should wave their fans, and close their eyes. He spoke lowly and continuously, describing how to fan properly and increase focus through rhythm thus becoming aware of the connection between their bodies and the world that surrounded them. This connection, once opened, allowed their inner spirit to reach out and touch the spirits of other living things.
Momentarily distracted, Chris was sure he heard the voice of Obi Wan Kenobi in his head explaining how the Force connected everything, and squelched a laugh. Kojay's verbal litany paused. Chris cracked open one eyelid and saw the Indian's dark eyes sparkling at him.
"It is not so different."
Startled, Chris snapped both eyes open and stared at Kojay, whose voice he'd just heard in his head. Smiling, the old man's eyes slipped shut. Vin giggled. Chris looked over and saw that his son's eyelids remained closed. After his heart quieted Chris sighed in resignation and shut his eyes again "You're laughing at me, aren't you?" he thought.
"I'm laughing with you," Vin replied, repeating Buck's often used phrase.
"Nobody likes a smart aleck," Chris answered jokingly.
"What about Buck?"
Chris snorted and he heard Vin giggle again. " Ya got me there."
Kojay cleared his throat. "If you two will allow me to continue?"
"Sorry."
"Sorry."
Kojay waited until his guests settled down and their fan action fell into synch before guiding them through the steps that brought heightened awareness. Chris found Kojay's voice mesmerizing and as the minutes passed, the stress of the day's events gradually seeped from his body. Eventually, Chris was so physically relaxed, he felt like he was floating and drifted along with Kojay's soothing cadence as if it was a marked trail. On the outside he figured he looked asleep, but in reality, he was acutely aware of every detail around him; it was what he expected an out-of-body experience would feel like.
With Kojay's rhythmic step-by-step coaching, each sense sharpened and cleared. He heard vehicles on a roadway miles away, smelled the damp earth outside through the scented smoke inside and he could taste each individual flavor of that smoke. His skin prickled with the press of the air that surrounded him. And finally, Chris saw the golden thread of his bond with Vin woven tightly through all of it, tying everything together and causing it all to make sense.
With that focus, he "saw" their bond become stronger. The warmth he felt from it was electric and energizing, causing him to inhale a deep breath and open his eyes.
Chris blinked and looked to Vin. He wasn't sure where the tired, scared and wary boy from earlier went, but he was certainly thrilled to see this happy, secure Vin beaming at him once again with clear, shining eyes.
When he finally broke their gaze, Chris was shocked to see that it was dark outside and that not minutes, but hours had passed. He felt rested. Vin's stomach growled.
Kojay uttered a raspy chuckle and started to rise. "Come. We are finished here. Chanu has prepared a meal and then you need to contact your boss man."
Their elderly host pushed to his feet, his knees cracking like popcorn. Once standing, he waved in the direction of the exit. Chris found their shirts hanging just outside the door. As he worked the buttons, Chris tried to understand what just happened.
Kojay read his mood. "I was merely a visitor today because your connection was open for a while," the old man said, "and I understand the nature of such things. Outside of this exercise, I do not share what you have between you. Guard it carefully, my friends, and use it as a guide wire to find each other when you are lost. It is a rare and beautiful thing."
Vin found Chris' hand and squeezed it in silent agreement.
M7/ATF/LB
Buck discovered that it was tougher than he expected to find a payphone since the cell phone revolution. What made it harder still was the active nature of his son.
"Da!" JD hollered from the ball pit as Buck stepped into the McDonald's Playplace. The boy's grinning head floated on the top of a sea of primary colored plastic balls. "I found a quarter!"
Matt chuckled from where he sat next to his wife at a hard, plastic, French-fry covered table. Claire also smiled at Buck but her worry showed plainly in her expression. Buck dropped down beside them.
"Nothing yet?" Matt asked quietly.
"Not yet." Buck glanced at his wrist watch. "We'll connect soon. Try not to worry."
Since his return from the ranch, Buck had called Kojay's phone every hour from a public pay phone. Finding one within visual distance of a busy McDonalds' was lucky, but JD was growing bored with the place. After connecting with Chris and working out a plan, they could move but for now, ensuring that they were surrounded by people was the best he could do. So far, Faraday's minions seemed to avoid public confrontation and were solely focused on Vin alone, but that could change at any time and the agent was not about to take any chances with his odd family.
"I'll try again in a half-hour." Buck patted Claire's hand. "They're fine where they are."
JD spent a majority of that time in Buck's lap, whining and asking for Vin. When Kojay finally picked up on his next try, Buck's relief made him sag against the wall.
"Buck?" Chris sounded as tired as Buck felt.
"Damn, Chris, it's good to hear your voice. Vin okay?"
"Yeah, we're good. Listen, I thought of a place we can hole up. Remember that old place at the east end of the reservation? Near the small lake?"
A vague vision of a remote, tumble-down cabin came to mind. "You mean that old hunting lodge?"
"Yeah. It's not easily accessible and as far as I know, it's not in County records. I tried to find it once."
Buck rubbed his tired eyes. "I remember the place. We'd need horses to get there."
"Taken care of. Come onto the reservation and Kojay will set everyone up."
Buck's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the number, surprised to see that it was Travis. "Hold on, Chris," he said, and then he flipped the cell open. "Yes?" he answered, a feeling of dread stabbing his gut.
"Faraday's escaped." Travis, too, sounded weary. Buck swore softly and repeated the message to Chris. Travis continued, his voice clipped. "Two U.S. Marshals were killed and an internal investigation is already in motion. This wasn't anywhere near subtle."
"Faraday's desperate. He knows this could be his final play," Buck added after relaying the news to Chris. "He's tapping deep into his connections."
"And if he gets away this time, we'll never find him." Chris' angry desperation was clear through the phone line.
"We need to play that final card," Travis said mysteriously. "The possibility we discussed when Chris and I last spoke."
Buck didn't know what the man meant but when he repeated it to Chris, the message was obviously clear because his friend snapped, "Tell him to arrange it. Where I said, Buck." And then the phone was dead at his ear.
Wilmington hung up the payphone and walked quickly toward McDonald's as he spoke to Travis on the cell. "We need to move fast. I'll get the rest of the boys together."
"My part will take a little time," the Assistant Director said. "Meet me tomorrow morning, 0900, in front of Mary's work. It's a busy street. There will be four of us."
"Sounds like a plan." They disconnected just as Buck reached the Playplace. JD sprang into his arms.
"Can we go now?" JD whined. "I wanna see Vin."
Buck forced a laugh and found it easier to pull off than expected. "Never thought I'd see the day you begged to leave Mickey D's! Get your shoes, little britches, and we're outta here."
M7/LB/ATF
Slouched in the back seat of an unremarkable coupe with heavily tinted windows, a small man in the remains of a rumpled suit dug out his cell phone from a pile of drive-through coffee cups, empty energy drink cans and cigarette butts piled on the seat. Wiping grease from his fingers, he flipped the phone open and dialed in a number from memory. The recipient picked up after one ring.
"It's Casselman. I think I have a lead." The caller tried to sound like a force to be reckoned with but the shake in his voice betrayed him. "If I tell you, you'll let her go? That's the deal, right?" He listened for a few seconds and then panic bloomed. He threw the Federal issue listening device aside and sat up, rigid. "Look, my job is at stake, too, you asshole! Tell your boss that once I've done this I'm out! I've paid my dues!" Sweating, he rubbed his forehead worriedly and trembled.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he let out a soft string of profanity and then gulped. "Look, hey, I'm sorry, okay? Don't hurt her!" Tears clouded his eyes and he gripped the small phone until his knuckles turned white. "Okay, okay. Wilmington's going to meet Travis sometime between now and nine o'clock tomorrow morning. From there, it sounds like they're hooking up with Larabee. It's a sure bet the kid's with Larabee." He listened and rubbed his forehead, fighting back tears. "Yeah, yeah. I'll stay on him but only until you get someone to replace me. Wilmington knows me from the office so if he spots me . . ." he trailed off. "Fine. Let me talk to her first?"
His grip relaxed a little and he took in a pair of breaths to try and gentle his tone. Upon hearing the voice on the other end, he broke into a distraught smile and the tears he fought to hold back unleashed. "Hi, honey. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You just do what they say, alright? Okay? I know you're scared. I'll get you out of there soon, I promise you. Becky? Wait! Becky? You fucking asshole! Don't hurt her! Don't . . ."
Realizing the connection was cut Casselman snapped the phone shut and threw it at the car's dashboard. Sniffing to control his tears, he crawled to the front seat, buckled in and wiped at his eyes. "What the hell have I done?" he whispered desperately as he twisted the car's key. "I've signed on with the devil. I'm fucked."
Before pulling away from the curb, Agent Casselman centered on his A.T.F. training and focused on the job ahead – following his friend and fellow agent Buck Wilmington directly to Vin Tanner.
For his own sanity, he didn't think any further than that.
TBC
6/19/09