Disclaimer and author's note:
Righty-ho then, first the disclaimer. As always, I don't own anything to do with Numb3rs or the regular characters. I do, however, own the story and the Brits, and I've got a piece of paper wot proves it. No really, it's got that fancy gold nibbling around the edges and everyfink! Or is that my wedding invitation to my mate's nuptials? Anyhoo, the story's mine, okay?
Usual warning applies for bad language and violence.
Now the author's note. I know it's been a bugger of a long time waiting around for this update, and that I also owe you lot an update on Minesweeper. I'm sorry that you've all had to wait so long – not only has my work taken up far more of my time lately, thanks to me being in a senior position within a copywriting company that's going great guns right now, but I also haven't been exactly in the right head-space for creative writing recently either. Please accept my apologies and be assured that I will get to Minesweeper very soon, that's a promise.
Right then. Off we go…
Roll credits and wonky Numb3rs board…
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"Hey bud." Colby's face lit up with a warm smile as he saw his friend sitting up in bed. "Yer lookin' a bit more with it, man."
David frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "Seriously. Did you tell them to give me the most uncomfortable pillows in the entire hospital on purpose?"
"Now why would I do that?" The grin didn't leave Colby's face as he sat down next to the bed.
"Oh, I dunno, maybe you were getting lonely without me?" David returned his friend's smile.
"Can I have your desk?"
"What? No! Jesus, Colby, you've got a bigger desk than me!"
"I only ask you to get that reaction."
"You're a son of a bitch, Granger."
Colby laughed merrily. "And you wouldn't have me any other way. Admit it."
"So did you just come here to torment me?" David shifted and cursed quietly as the pillows refused to offer any comfort.
Watching his friend have a bed linen crisis, Colby stood up and, chuckling quietly to himself, gently helped David sit forward while he rearranged the pillows. He lowered his friend carefully down onto the pillows and David sank back with a sigh. "Thanks, Col. That's much better."
"Well, you were making such a goddamn fuss. Anything to shut you up, man!"
"Ass."
"I've brought grapes."
"I don't like grapes."
"Fine. Well, you can watch me eat 'em, then." Colby opened the paper bag, detached a grape from the bunch and popped it into his mouth, grinning cheerfully while he chewed.
David shook his head but couldn't stop the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was good to see his best friend again. He had felt horribly vulnerable laying in the hospital bed, even with the constant FBI guard at his door. But now Colby was here, he felt strangely reassured to have his partner and friend at his side once more. "So how's things back at the ranch?"
"Stampede, buddy."
"Huh?"
The cheerful look vanished from Colby's face and a more serious, thoughtful expression replaced it. Colby spoke quietly and with an intensity that immediately prickled David's senses. "What can you tell me about Howard Greensfeld?"
"Greensfeld?" David shifted on his pillows and winced as he sat back up. "Why?"
"Because someone I trust told me that we were kicking a hornet's nest here, and that Greensfeld was most likely to sting anyone who got in the way. Who is he, David?"
"He's a big gun in Washington. Top of the food chain, bud. Head of the internal investigations inter-agency task force. The guy has a direct line to the president, Col."
"What inter-agency task force?"
"A couple of years ago, the FBI, the ATF, border control and a bunch of other agencies including a couple of the major PDs like LA and New York signed an agreement allowing an independent internal investigation unit made up of representatives from all the agencies was created. Its mandate was to ensure that cops didn't investigate cops, ya know? Kinda like a neutral, independent department. I know your people didn't sign up, Col."
"We've got our own internal affairs people, buddy. Yer looking at one of 'em."
"I know. But there was a lot of bad feeling towards the CIA about not wanting to take part. You and the NSA were the only organisations that didn't go for the whole inter-agency co-operation idea."
"And that surprises you?"
"Knowing what I know about how you guys operate now? Nope. But I know Greensfeld had a real bee in his bonnet about the CIA in particular. He hates you guys and anyone connected with Langley. Your name even came up a couple of times in conversation. And not in a good way, brother."
"Really? So you've met this guy?"
"Yeah, once. Greensfeld is a control freak. He can't stand the fact that there are some people out there who he can't keep in line personally."
Colby smiled lazily. "Okay. So what's his weak spot, bud?"
"I don't know that he even has one, Col."
"Dude, everyone's got a weak spot. Whether it's drugs, hookers or goddamn Nascar."
"The guy's teetotal, not married, he drives a Buick and is totally committed to his work. He's one of those scary people that believes the fate of the nation lays in his hands." David shifted again. "Look Col, your contact is right about him. He's one dangerous son of a bitch. And before you come back with one of your smart-assed comments, you need to be careful, bud. Seriously. He's got a lot of friends in very high places."
Colby snorted. "Yeah, so I've been told. But you and I both know that nobody is above the law, David. Nobody." He screwed the top of the bag shut and stood up. "Listen, I've spoken to the doctors and they say you'll be okay to move in a day or so. As soon as you're fit, we'll get you to a safehouse. The only people who'll know where you are will be me, Don and Dee. The team'll take turns staying with you until we're sure nobody's gonna take another pot shot at you, okay?"
"Babysitting duty?" David smiled. "Dee's gonna love that."
Colby grinned broadly. "Well, if you will insist on going and getting yourself a target painted on your back, waddya expect?"
David's smile melted away. "Col?"
"Huh?"
"Just make sure you ain't got the same target painted on your back, buddy, okay?"
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Stobbard sat in the passenger seat of the BMW watching the parking lot. He hated this. He wasn't a 'hand's on' type of guy. All of his violence was done by proxy. There were people he could pay to do this kind of thing. But Greensfeld had been very clear. And you didn't go against Greensfeld's orders unless you were tired of living…
He fingered the remote control unit nervously, its blinking red LED light acting as a focus and keeping his attention fixed on the black SUV that sat isolated in the lot. He knew that underneath was enough C4 to blow Colby Granger to hell and back. It was a simple set-up, but he was still unsure if he'd connected the right wire to the detonator. He was almost sure. But not quite…
Stobbard frowned as he waited for the big American to make an appearance. Who was he visiting? Sinclair was dead, so it couldn't be him. So who? Stobbard scowled as he scanned the throng of patients, nurses and visitors milling around the building. The SUV was far enough away from the entrance to the hospital to minimise casualties, but there could still be some collateral damage from the blast. Stobbard felt uncomfortable about that. He'd always made sure that any victims of his business weren't innocents. In his mind, he had yet to make the connection between the arms business and the millions of innocent victims it caused every year. Violence by proxy. No blood on his hands. Not directly, anyway. Granger would be the first person he'd ever killed for real. And he hated the fact that he'd suddenly realised he wasn't really a very good killer close up. He'd ordered the deaths of people, sure. But to actually do it himself, for real, without any 'plausible deniability' buffer? He felt vulnerable. Alone. Scared…
He suddenly saw his mark emerging from the hospital entrance. Granger walked quickly towards the SUV. Stobbard could see the mobile phone in Granger's right hand, and the American spoke rapidly into the mouthpiece, oblivious of the danger he was in…
Stobbard's mouth went dry. He swallowed rapidly, trying to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Beads of sweat collected on his forehead and trickled down his temples. He felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the interior of the BMW. His hands were so greasy with sweat that he was worried that the remote would slip from his fingers. He watched as Granger reached the SUV and opened the driver's door. Stobbard could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, like the sound of the ocean crashing onto a shoreline. He watched Granger climb into the cab of the SUV, still chatting on the mobile, and slam the door shut…
Stobbard's finger hovered over the button of the remote. The blinking LED light seemed to have taken on a new urgency, flashing frantically, screaming at his brain to press the button…
A puff of smoke from the tailpipe of the SUV told Stobbard that Granger had started the engine. Now…PRESS IT NOW…
Stobbard screwed his eyes shut and pressed the button…
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"Don, it's me. David's fine, grouching as usual." Colby walked briskly towards the SUV.
"Did you ask him about our new alpha?"
Colby fumbled in his jacket pocket with his left hand to extract the key fob for the SUV. "Yeah. Dude's a top drawer pain in the ass, bud. I'll tell you more when I get back to the office." Colby instinctively scanned the car lot and out of the corner of his eye saw a man sitting in a silver BMW. He frowned to himself. "Uh, Don? We might have a bit of a problem."
"What's up?"
Colby's pace quickened as he moved towards his SUV. "I'm in the hospital parking lot and I'm being watched."
"What?"
"It's Stobbard. He's sitting in a silver BMW. And he looks real nervous."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Don, I'm sure. Look, we need to move David fast. He's not safe here." Colby reached the SUV and pressed the fob, unlocking the doors. He opened the driver door and climbed into the cab. "If Stobbard's watching me, you can be damn sure that Greensfeld's people are watching Stobbard."
"Agreed. Okay, let's get the safehouse set up straight away and get David moved. And Col? Be careful, buddy. Something doesn't feel right about this."
"Don, nothing feels right about this, man. On my way back." Colby snapped the phone shut and slammed the driver door closed. He pushed the key into the ignition and settled back into the seat as the engine growled into life. Through the tinted window he carefully glanced over towards the silver BMW. Inside he could see Stobbard, his eyes tight closed and every muscle on his face tensed. Colby frowned and put the SUV into gear…
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Stobbard watched in horror as the SUV pulled out of the parking lot and into the LA traffic. Damn it! Damn it to HELL! He pressed the button on the remote control frantically again and again. The rapidly disappearing SUV failed to explode in a fireball of death and destruction.
"Shit! SHIT!" He hurled the remote onto the passenger seat and stabbed at the ignition button, almost pushing it through the dashboard. The BMW roared into life and he slammed it into gear, the fat tyres screeching in protest as he gunned out of the lot and into the traffic flow. The SUV was visible in the distance, and still perfectly intact. Granger was still alive, and he now had an unexploded bomb with Stobbard's fingerprints all over it attached to the underside of the truck. It was only a matter of time before someone found it…
Stobbard ground his teeth in frustration as he followed the SUV through the heavy LA traffic. He'd screwed up. Royally. If Greensfeld found out, his comfortable life would be over. Everything. Gone in an instant. Stobbard's mind flipped cartwheels as he drove. He had to get that bomb off the SUV and away from Granger's friends in Forensics. But how? What had seemed like a straightforward plan had gone completely south on him, just because he'd had to do the dirty work himself instead of handing it over to an expert like Duvall. Damn Greensfeld! Damn him to hell! Stobbard pounded in frustration on the steering wheel of the BMW and swung a right, following Granger's SUV towards the FBI's offices…
The SUV suddenly pulled up at the side of the road and stopped. Stobbard pulled in a few cars back and waited, the BMW's engine growling quietly on tickover. He watched as Granger hopped out of the truck and into a sandwich shop. Stobbard grinned. Even top FBI agents have to eat, right?
He switched the engine off and shot out of the driver's seat like a scolded rabbit. He had a few seconds at best…
Stobbard ran towards the SUV and darted a quick look into the sandwich shop. Through the glass he could see Granger chatting to the girl behind the counter, ordering his lunch to go. Stobbard sidled up to the SUV and dropped down onto one knee. He stretched out an arm under the SUV and his fingers searched for the box he knew was still attached next to the collector box of the exhaust system. He could feel the searing heat radiating off the hot metal and gingerly felt for the cold plastic of the box he knew would condemn him to at least 20 years in jail if Granger found it first...
"Saw ya followin' me about five blocks back, Stobbard. Whatchya think you're doin', buddy?"
Stobbard froze. That quiet, gravely voice was instantly recognisable. So was the soft click of an A1's hammer going back…
Colby stood over Stobbard, the A1 pointing straight at the back of Stobbard's head. "Hands. Slowly. Lemme see 'em both, my friend."
Stobbard raised his left hand slowly and extracted his right hand from underneath the SUV. In an instant, everything had changed. Everything…
Colby kept the gun on Stobbard with one hand, reached into his back pocket with the other and pulled out his cuffs. He snapped the bracelet onto one wrist and, pushing his A1 quickly into the back of his belt, snatched Stobbard's other hand back behind him, securing the cuffs with a fluid motion. He spun Stobbard around and faced him, a slow, lazy smile spreading over his lips. The smile didn't reach the hard, green eyes that bored into Stobbard…
"Guess there's no point in me pretending to be Jack Higgins any more then, huh?" Colby shoved Stobbard hard against the side of the SUV and patted him down quickly, looking for any concealed weapons. He pulled out a Browning 9mm from a holster slung under Stobbard's left armpit and tucked the gun next to his own A1. He pulled Stobbard towards him by the lapels on his jacket and slammed him back against the steel doorframe of the truck. Stobbard winced as he felt the metal jar against his spine, terrified that every jolt that the truck endured as Granger shoved him forcefully against the side would trigger the bomb. The bomb that he was now way too close to… Colby's expression hardened. Stobbard could see the restrained savagery in the man's cold, green eyes. An expression he'd seen in Duvall's eyes, too. Mercenary or Fed – these men were all the same underneath. Ruthless, emotionless killers. The only difference that Stobbard could see between Granger and Duvall was that Granger carried a badge… "So. Wanna try shooting for an explanation?"
Stobbard took a shaking breath. "There's a bomb under your car."
Colby's eyes widened. "What?"
Stobbard had made a decision. It was over. Everything was over. The only chance he had now was to switch sides and co-operate with Granger. It was his one and only shot at staying alive.
"A bomb. Ya know? Bang? Much excitement?" Stobbard spat out his response, disgusted at himself for being so weak, so stupid, so wrong about everything.
"You son of a BITCH!" Colby's face contorted into a vicious snarl and he snapped a savage kick at the side of Stobbard's knee. Stobbard yelped and dropped to the floor, pain shooting up his leg as his knee gave way. Colby pushed the kneeling man face forward into the rough asphalt of the sidewalk and pressed his foot into the back of Stobbard's neck. He pulled out his cell phone and hit a speed dial number.
"Don? Get a bomb squad to Fifth and Main right now."
"Col?"
"Just get the team here, Don. And make sure that the bomb squad are first on the scene, okay?"
"On their way, bud. You okay?"
Colby glanced down at the prostate man and snarled again. "Yeah. I'm okay…"
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Don watched the cuffed Englishman through the two-way mirror. Stobbard looked stunned, terrified. Don turned as the door into the observation room softly opened. Colby strolled in, a small smile flickering around his lips. "So the bomb squad's removed the bolt on extra I didn't ask the motor pool for, bud."
Don chuckled quietly at Granger's flippancy. "You okay?"
Colby nodded. "Yeah. Thanking my lucky stars that Stobbard's not exactly the Unibomber, but yeah, I'm good."
Don laid a friendly hand on Colby's shoulder, unable to mask the relief he felt. "You were lucky today, Col."
Colby grinned. "Guess so, man. One wire out, and I'd be spread all over the car lot of the hospital." He nodded towards the miserable looking man in the next room. "He said anything yet?"
"Nope. Says he'll only talk to you."
Colby snorted. "Right. How d'ya want me to play this, boss?"
Don studied Stobbard. "I dunno. Let's see what he puts out there first, huh?"
"Don, who knows he's here?"
"You, me, the bomb squad and the team. Why?"
Colby stared at Stobbard and Don waited. He knew that the younger man was doing what he did best – reading the situation, taking into account all the possible variables. Finally, a small frown creased Colby's brow and he spoke quietly. "Every move we've made has been countered, Don. That tells me one thing for sure."
"That we've got a leak."
"Right. Now Stobbard could be very useful and I wanna keep him breathing for as long as possible. I'm thinkin' maybe it would be a good idea to keep his incarceration as quiet as possible?" Colby turned to Don, waiting for approval from his boss.
Don nodded curtly. "Agreed. Suggestions?"
"Get him the hell outta here and somewhere quiet. Somewhere we can control without worrying someone might say the wrong thing to the wrong person."
"Do it." Don stood up and locked his gaze into Colby's eyes. "Do anything you have to, Col. Whatever it takes."
"Anything?"
"Anything." Don patted Colby's shoulder gently and smiled. "And bud? Check under your car a bit more regularly, okay? I don't wanna lose you." He walked quietly out of the observation room, leaving the younger man alone. Colby smiled quietly to himself. After years of wondering if Don would ever trust him again after the Chinese affair, after years of feeling that he had to prove himself to Don every time the elevator doors opened up on a new day at the Bullpen, he finally knew for sure. Don did trust him. Completely...
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Doug Cross kicked the door of the remote house open and pushed it to one side with his shoulder as it rebounded back on him. He called back over his shoulder. "Clear, boss."
The team moved him, shoving a staggering Stobbard in front of them. Micky Cox quickly peeled off to the left, checking the other rooms of the house. Once he'd swept the ground floor, he trotted up the rickety stairs to the next level. Colby kept one hand pressed into the middle of Stobbard's back and gave him another shove. "In. Move." Stobbard staggered again. It was hard to keep your balance with your hands cuffed behind your back and Granger's powerful arm pushing you forward with every step.
Danny Smith brought up the rear. He turned, cast an expert eye around the outside of the house and shut the door. The farmhouse was in a remote part of the foothills that surrounded the metropolis of LA – only an hour's drive from the city, but isolated and long-since abandoned. It smelled of dust, mildew and decay. Paint peeled off the woodwork in sheets and a scattering of newspaper pages fluttered across the bare floors. Pieces of broken furniture littered the rooms and the stale stench of a long-dead racoon gave the air a musty, dense texture.
"All clear upstairs." Micky trotted down the creaking stairs. "Mind you, I wouldn't trust some of them floorboards if I was you. And seriously, do not try using the upstairs bathroom!"
Colby chuckled. "Copy that, Mick. Set up, bud."
"On it." Micky deftly caught one of the big black holdalls Doug tossed towards him and headed into the main living space.
"Doug, wanna do a sweep of the area for me?"
Doug nodded curtly at Colby and headed out through the back door, the nose of his M4 Carbine almost seeming to sniff the air in front of him.
"Danny, give me a hand with our guest, would ya?" Colby grabbed Stobbard roughly by the arm and spun him to the right.
Danny Smith gave Stobbard a nasty grin. "With pleasure, boss." He waved a dramatic arm towards the living area. "After you, Mister Stobbard."
Colby gave Stobbard another hard shove and the Englishman stumbled into the room and fell to his knees. He looked up at Granger bearing down on him, an M4 cradled in his arms. That vicious little smile of his taunted Stobbard, but there was no humour at all in Granger's piercing green eyes. A flicker of defiance surfaced briefly in Stobbard's fuddled brain. "What the hell is this? This isn't due process! I have rights!"
"Due process?" Colby snorted a sharp laugh. "Dude, we're way past due process." He glanced up at Danny. "Keep this fucker in stress position. He'll probably whine like a baby. If it gets too bad, gag him. There's bound to be an old rag around here somewhere you can use."
"I saw a pair of used underpants on the floor upstairs. Shake the maggots off and they'd be ideal for a gag, boss." Micky Cox grinned nastily at Stobbard.
Colby let out a short laugh. "Perfect. Mick, let me know as soon as you're set up. Perhaps our friend here will be ready to talk to us by then."
Danny aimed a casual kick at Stobbard's ribcage. "He looks pretty ready now, boss."
"Yeah, well, I'm not. I haven't had a damn thing to eat since yesterday apart from a few grapes. I'm gonna put some coffee on and break out the Burritos." Colby smirked at Stobbard. "Can I get you anything, Stobbard? A spine, maybe?" He laughed again and turned away.
"Granger!" Stobbard gasped for air. The kick from Danny had winded him, but it had also made him angry. "You can't do this, you son of a bitch!"
In an instant, Colby turned and grabbed Stobbard's jacket. He hauled him halfway to his feet, holding his entire bodyweight with one hand. Stobbard could see the massive muscles flexing in Granger's left arm and the finger of his right hand curled around the trigger of the M4. Colby dragged the man's body up until Stobbard's face was an inch from his own. As Stobbard stared into the vivid green eyes he could see the murderous fury caged behind them, straining to get out and unleash a world of hurt on his helpless victim. Colby's face contorted into a snarl of rage. "Right now, I can do whatever the HELL I like to you, buddy!" He shook Stobbard like a rag doll. "Out here? There isn't any due process. There isn't any rights. There isn't anybody to stop me from tearing your fucking head off your shoulders, you maggot!"
"Col…" Danny's voice was tinged with concern.
"Boss, ease up, mate." Micky immediately picked up on Danny's edgy voice. They both knew how volatile the big American could be, and just how short Colby's temper was.
Colby stared blankly at the trembling Stobbard for a few seconds and then let go of the man's jacket. Stobbard dropped back to the floor, yelping as the pain from his bruised knee reminded him of the vicious kick he'd received earlier from Granger. He glanced back up at his tormentor. Granger still had that dangerous look in his eyes.
Colby sniffed sharply. "You done setting up, Mick?"
"Couple'a minutes, boss." Micky spoke carefully and quietly.
"Good. You boys want some Java?" Without waiting for a reply, Colby turned abruptly and walked out of the room.
Micky glanced at Danny. This was their cue to start the psyche-out session…
Danny puffed out his cheeks. "Phew! Never seen the boss that pissed, have you, Mick?"
"Nah. I mean, I've seen him go off at a suspect before, but that was in that Taliban safe house in Pakistan, remember?"
Danny let out a low whistle. "Fuck, yeah. That got messy."
"Real messy. He's got a right old temper, our boss." Micky turned away to hide the smirk that flickered across his face.
Danny squatted in front of the trembling Stobbard and leaned in close, his voice low. "Ya know, there's things he can do to you that won't even leave a mark, mate. And what with you trying to blow him up? Fuck me, Stobbard, he takes that kinda thing really personal, know what I mean?" Danny grinned. "But seein' as you're gonna co-operate like a good little boy, you ain't got anythin' to worry about, now have ya?" Danny patted Stobbard's cheek hard twice, the pats more like slaps. "Besides. You got me and Mick to look after ya." Mick turned briefly and gave Stobbard a cheeky little wave. Danny chuckled. "But here's the thing, mateyboy." Danny's smile evaporated and a dark, vicious look clouded his face. "Seeing as we know for a fact that you've sold guns to people who've tried their damnedest to kill our mates in the Regiment, you're gonna have to work fuckin' hard not to piss us off too, savvy?" He stood up and stretched lazily.
Stobbard slumped. The enormity of his situation washed over him. If this was the lesser of two evils, he could only begin to imagine what Greensfeld would have done with him. Co-operate. Answer every question. Don't antagonise them…
He turned sharply as he heard Granger walk back into the room. Before he could open his mouth, a bucket full of freezing cold, stinking brown water hit him full in the face. The force of the mass of dirty water hitting him knocked him backwards and he lay in a puddle of filthy sludge, gasping at the shock of the blow and the freezing temperature of the water that soaked his clothes, chilling him to the bone. Colby stood in front of him, the last few droplets of water trickling around the rim of the bucket and onto the floor. Colby stared at the soaked man, snorted with disgust and turned away again. "Coffee's ready, boys."
Danny looked at the gasping Stobbard, not an ounce of pity in his eyes. Micky stood up and stretched. "All ready this end. He secure?"
"He ain't going anywhere." Danny smirked at Stobbard and then glanced at his watch. "Four o'clock. Afternoon tea, dear boy!"
Micky grinned broadly. "Oh, I say! Top hole, old chap! D'ya think there's crumpets?" The two ex soldiers laughed heartily and Micky turned to Stobbard one last time. "Don't try buggering off, will you? I mean, by all means, try if you want, but just remember who's in the next room just itchin' for a chance to start tearing off body parts, okay?" He jerked a thumb towards the open door.
The two men exited the room, leaving a shaking, frightened Stobbard laying on the floor…
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Don flipped his phone open. "Eppes…"
"Don, it's me. We're at the safe house. All good."
Don waved towards Nikki, who trotted over. "Get me that Forensics report, Nikki." He turned his attention back to the phone conversation with Colby. "Col, I think I know who the leak is, bud."
"Who?"
"Chapman."
"That slimy little son of a b…"
"Col, listen. I don't think he's intentionally passing on intel to Greensfeld. I don't think he actually realises that the guy's dirty. But I've got no proof. Nothing. Is there anything Stobbard can give us?"
"We're letting him sweat for a half hour, Don. I'll start workin' on him in a bit."
"Make it sooner rather than later, Col. Ian's still wide open."
"I know. Sorry to pull Doug off that but…"
"It's okay. Dee's covering Ian's back."
Nikki trotted back to the desk with a file in her hand. Don took it from her and flipped it open. "Okay, we've got something here that might help. The C4 used in that bomb that was meant to kill you came from Eastern Europe."
"Bud, nearly all C4 comes from Eastern Europe. There and Israel. How's that helping?"
"This one has a chemical signature that's unique to one specific manufacturer. This particular stuff comes from a factory in Albania, close to the Kosovo border. This guy's been arming terrorist organisations from Northern Ireland through to Afghanistan and East Timor and all points west for the last twenty years. His main agent is, guess who?"
"Stobbard."
"Got it in one. Interpol have been watching him for years, but they've had problems dealing with the Albanian security services. But they do know that the manufacturer has recently signed a major deal with an unknown government agency for a huge quantity of the stuff. Trouble is, we don't know who, we don't know where it's gonna be delivered and we don't know why."
"I'm guessing that's part of our major arms deal Stobbard was putting together. So we can be pretty sure that the C4's heading stateside."
"Yeah, you're right. But now that Stobbard is in your tender care, Col, that deal could fall through."
"Nah, man. It's too big for Greensfeld to just walk away. He'll regroup, believe me. Look, give me a few hours and I'll see what I can get from Stobbard. I reckon he's just about ready to co-operate anyway."
Don flinched at the snarl in Colby's voice. "Colby, I know I said whatever it takes, but remember that we need evidence. Evidence we can use in a court of law, okay?"
"Don, do you honestly think this is ever gonna get anywhere near a courthouse?" Before Don could reply, Colby's voice took on a reassuring tone. "Look, don't worry, I'll go by the book."
"Make sure you do, Col." Don's fingers tensed around the phone and he dropped his voice. "But if you have to throw the book out, don't leave any marks, okay?"
There was a moment's pause before Colby replied. When he did, the one word was cold, hard and made Don's stomach knot. "Understood..."
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Doug Cross walked into the dilapidated kitchen and sat down on a creaking chair. "All quiet on the western front, boss." He gratefully accepted the mug of coffee Danny passed him and took a mouthful. Doug glanced around the three men, sensing an air of tension in the room. "What'd I miss?"
Colby snapped the phone shut. "Nothin', bud." He stood up, ignoring the untouched Burrito and coffee in front of him on the stained table. There was a look of cold determination in his eyes. "Time to chat to our gunrunner friend, I think." He walked out of the kitchen without another word to his friends.
Micky glanced at Danny, who motioned to his eyes and then pointed at the direction Colby had gone, a deadly serious look on his face. Micky nodded wordlessly and followed Colby into the living room.
Doug turned to Danny, a questioning expression on his face. Danny merely shrugged. "Col's pissed."
"Shit."
"Yeah. Shit for Stobbard, mate."
"Just get ready to move, Doug. You know how fast Granger is when he gets like this…"
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Stobbard couldn't stop shaking. The freezing water Granger had thrown over him soaked his clothes and they clung to his skin, stinking of sewerage. This wasn't what he'd expected. He'd expected a nice, warm, dry interrogation room in the FBI's building. He'd expected a coffee and a chat. Not this…
Colby walked into the room and grabbed a cracked and broken chair. He slammed it down to the side of Stobbard and grabbed the soaked and shaking man by the collar. With a grunt, he lifted the man up with one arm and dumped him roughly onto the chair. Colby grabbed another chair and slammed it down in front of the disorientated Stobbard and sat down, his eyes never leaving the man. "We rolling?"
"Wired for sound, Col. All ready to go."
A slow smile spread across Colby's lips. "Good. You'll know when to hit pause, okay, Mick?"
Micky answered hesitantly. "Um, yeah. I'll know."
"After all, we don't want anything on tape that might indicate Stobbard's in any kind of distress, now do we?"
"Nope. Absolutely not, boss."
Stobbard glanced nervously over Colby's shoulder at Micky Cox, who just shook his head and pressed the record button on the digital recorder.
"Focus on me, Stobbard. Time for a chat, buddy. You comfy?"
"What?"
"Are you comfy? Not in any pain or anything?"
"Um…no."
"Good answer. Now. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?"
Stobbard swallowed nervously, the stench of the foetid water in his nostrils, his entire world filled with the vicious smile and cold, hard green eyes of Colby Granger. He knew now why Greenfeld was so afraid of this man. Why he wanted him dead so badly. Granger wasn't just a mercenary with a badge. He was a Federal mercenary with a firm belief in justice.
Justice at any cost…
TBC…