The man known as Miles Walker stood at the back of the trailer, clipboard in hand, as the last of the crates were lifted to the ground. His cool green eyes scanned the hangar for the hundredth time that night, cataloguing sights and sounds and faces to be recalled later. He pointedly tried to ignore what was going on in the office, silently praying that what he knew was about to happen didn't occur. He was sickened by the thoughts of the small part that he played in it and the fact that he could do nothing to stop it, but sternly reminded himself it was not his actions that led to this—it was Banning's and he was not responsible in any way. Of course, that wouldn't stop this night from haunting his dreams.
He sighed inwardly. There were aspects of this job that truly weighed a man down.
Outwardly, he remained cool and detached, looking slightly bored and focused on his current assignment instead of the closed office door. He knew that Tony answered to someone else, and assumed that was who he was waiting for. He had hoped for a look at this person, but had been inside the trailer when they arrived. When the shot echoed across the hangar floor, he shut his eyes momentarily, a grim look stealing across his face, but he quickly smoothed it away and ordered the men back to work.
A few minutes later, he was slightly startled to hear his name called out, and looked up in surprise. "Yes, Mr. Vita—" His words died in his throat as he recognized the figures coming toward him. The blood drained from his face and his heart froze as he found himself staring into the startled, wide blue eyes of Paul Randolph. He muttered a quick curse.
His cover had just been blown to smithereens!
His mind was flying, trying desperately to find a way out of his current predicament with his hide intact. "Why, Mr. Randolph. Fancy meeting you here," he drawled. He dropped the clipboard to the ground and held his arms slightly away from his side, a sardonic smile curling on his lips.
"Standish!" Randolph exclaimed hoarsely in shock. Travis had introduced him to his new team back in August at the initiation ceremony held to officially swear in the newest members of the Denver law enforcement community, and he instantly recognized the man before him. He whirled around and grabbed Tony's shirtfront. "You idiot!" he yelled. "That is no small time hood! That is Ezra Standish! He's one of Travis's men, you fool!"
Tony stumbled back out of his boss's grasp in surprise. "W-hat?" he stammered.
Randolph rubbed his forehead distractedly; then turned back to his lieutenant. "He's a fed! He's a ***d**n fed! And you let him waltz right in here! You said you had it covered!" he shouted.
"I did!" Tony shouted back. "He checked out, I swear he did! Carnelli vouched for him!"
"Well, somebody messed up, because there he is!" Randolph paced back and forth for a few moments before finally getting control of himself. He stalked up to Ezra. "How much do you know?" he demanded.
Ezra stared back at him passively and shrugged. "I know many things. I attended some of the finest schools in Europe during my youth and have a MBA from Harvard. What do you want to know?" he asked mildly.
Randolph's hand whipped up with lightening speed and he slapped Ezra hard across the mouth with enough force to nearly knock him off of his feet. "I'm asking about my business," he growled.
Ezra reached up and tentatively dabbed at the corner of his mouth, frowning at the blood that marred his finger tips. He gazed dispassionately at the man in front of him. "What does it matter? You are going to kill me anyway," he returned; then winced. 'That's it, Ezra. Antagonize the man who holds your life in his hands,' He cursed himself silently.
Randolph turned back to Tony. "Send some men out to look around. Make sure that no one else is here." he ordered. He turned back to the men standing in a loose circle around them, their guns drawn and pointed at the undercover agent. He motioned to the two nearest the agent. "Bring him into the office," he commanded as he stalked into the room himself, not looking back to see if he had been obeyed.
One of the big thugs grabbed Ezra's arm in a bruising grip and half-dragged him into the office, Ezra's protests echoing loudly across the space behind them. As they entered the office, he jerked his arm away. "Unhand me, you ignoramus!" He growled, straightening his jacket in annoyance. He saw the body of Banning lying in a pool of blood and grimaced slightly before pulling his gaze up to glare icily at Randolph. "You, Sir, are surrounded by barbarians."
Randolph's eyes narrowed but he ignored the comment and instead glared at the thug behind the agent. "Search him," he barked. The man handed his rifle to the other guard behind him, then slammed Ezra against the wall hard enough to cause his head to bounce off the drywall and used his foot to force him to spread his legs out and lean against the wall on his hands.
He proceeded to pat him down, pulling a pistol from his shoulder holster and a Sig from the small of his back. He also found the small gun in the ankle holster, much to Ezra's disgust. He laid the firearms on the desk, then jerked Ezra's jacket off before he shoved the man into the empty chair brutally, almost tipping him onto the floor. "Was that necessary?" Ezra snapped as he barely regained his balance and rubbed his arms gingerly while glaring up at the man.
The guard just shrugged as he began slicing up the seams with a knife in search of wires before dropping the remains into the dark puddle on the floor. Ezra shook his head as he watched yet another fine article of clothing come to an untimely end. 'The things I sacrifice in the line of duty,' he thought in disgust. The thug pulled the agent's head forward and felt along the collar of his shirt, then ripped said shirt open to the waist. "Hey!" Ezra yelped in protest as buttons flew in all directions. "This is a $100 Moschino shirt you're abusing!"
The man ignored him and reached down to pull the undershirt up to make sure that no wires were missed. Ezra jerked the shirt down out of his grasp. "I'd thank you to TAKE YOUR HANDS OFF of my person!" he snapped indignantly.
"He's clean, sir," the guard stood back and addressed his employer respectfully, taking his gun from the man beside him and aiming it point blank at the back of his captive's head.
Ezra glowered at him as he straightened the collar of his shirt and rebuttoned the remaining buttons on the front, very aware of the gun barrel inches from the side of his head, but paying it little attention, focusing instead on his surroundings. He knew they wouldn't find any surveillance equipment on him, just as he knew they wouldn't find anyone outside. He was on his own in this one. 'As always,' he thought wryly.
'Now that's not being fair,' another voice in his head argued back, sounding suspiciously like Josiah. 'Chris has had someone on watch whenever he could. The change in plans tonight didn't give him enough time to set something up.'
Ezra was forced to concede that point, but then another voice spoke up. 'Yes, but if he truly valued your personal well-being, he would have found a way. You are just an expendable commodity,'—this voice sounded very much like his mother.
He snorted to himself. 'Oh, wonderful. My cover has been compromised, I'm literally up to my neck in s**t, for lack of a better term at this moment, and about to be liquidated, and here I sit having a mental argument with Josiah and Maude in my head, like the proverbial angel and devil shown in animated television.' An absurd picture of Josiah in a white robe with a harp and a glowing halo about his head, and his mother dressed in a skintight red leather jumpsuit with a long forked tail and holding a long red pitchfork flashed across his mind, and he rolled his eyes at himself. 'Well, that certainly proves it. My teammates have driven me completely and unutterably insane!'
His attention was drawn back to his current predicament when Tony entered the room. "There is no one there, sir," he reported submissively before taking a place beside the open door.
Randolph ran a hand down his face before turning back to Ezra. "Now, what do we do with you?" he asked as he finally calmed himself down and leaned back on the desk with crossed arms.
"Let me go?" Ezra suggested hopefully.
Randolph shook his head. "No, I'm afraid that wouldn't be prudent. You know too much. I can't have you reporting back to Travis, now can I?"
Ezra smiled up at him pleasantly, his gold tooth catching the fluorescent light above. "Ah, but what if I pledged to keep all knowledge of your more nefarious activities to myself?"
Randolph laughed. "Promise not to tell? And what would that cost me?"
Ezra cocked his head and tapped his lips with his forefinger, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Oh, no more than twenty thousand, deposited in my personal Swiss bank account. And maybe a new mode of transportation. The mileage on my jag is becoming rather high." He smiled up at the man brightly.
Randolph raised an eyebrow then chuckled again. "I had heard the rumor that you could be bought. Though I believe the amount I heard you took in Atlanta was thirty grand."
"A discount, I assure you." Ezra remained nonchalant outwardly, but inside he flinched at the implication. Would he ever be able to escape his past? he wondered a bit morosely.
The crime lord slipped his hands into his front pockets and eyed him thoughtfully. "Being a close, personal friend of the assistant director of the ATF does have its advantages. I know he has a special interest in your team, had Larabee in mind when he hatched his plan. I also know that he was very concerned when Larabee wanted to add you to the team, especially when he saw your records and heard about the rather nasty business in Atlanta. One can't help but wondering if there were any truth to the stories, even if no substantial evidence was ever found. After all, all legends are started with some grain of truth, aren't they?"
Ezra only shrugged. "I suppose so," he replied.
Randolph continued to regard him with some amusement. "The stories about you say that you are a maverick, that you hold allegiance to no one, that you are an arrogant, pompous, insubordinate b*****d who would sell out his own mother if the price was right. I have to admit, it does make me wonder what Larabee ever saw in you."
"You and me both, dear sir," Ezra agreed as he sat back in the chair and crossed his ankles, folding his hands over his stomach. He presented the man before him with one of his infuriatingly insolent smiles. "I suppose it just gives ample evidence that Larabee is a bigger fool than he appears." His smile widened. "So, do we have a deal?"
Randolph burst out laughing. "You really are a pretentious son of a b***h aren't you?" He pulled a white silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the corner of his eye, then held it at his lips as he regarded the agent before him intently. "I think not," he said slowly, putting the handkerchief away and pushing himself up from the desk to walk around Ezra's chair. "There is something about you that worries me."
He stopped directly in front of the smaller man, the mirth dropping from his eyes to be replaced by a glint that was decidedly chilling. "You are not who you seem to be, Mr. Standish, and I am not willing to chance betrayal. I would prefer to behead the snake and make sure that it cannot come back to bite me when my back is turned. I have too much at stake." He turned to his lieutenant. "This is your mess, Tony, and you will clean it up. Take care of Mr. 'Walker' and dispose of the bodies somewhere out of the way. Preferably somewhere that will not get back to me." He favored the man with a piercing stare, a frown of disproval marring his stately features.
Tony averted his gaze. "Yes sir, I won't let you down again."
"See that you don't. I will not tolerate mistakes, Tony. You have been warned." Randolph glanced at his watch. "I must be getting home. I'll take the ledgers with me. Come to the house when you are finished here," he commanded.
"Yes, sir." Tony motioned for the two guards to pick up the late accountant's body while he grabbed Standish's arm and pulled him to his feet, pressing his gun to his ribs. "Let's go for a ride, shall we?" He began dragging the agent toward the door, pausing as the two thugs manhandled the body through the opening.
Ezra glanced down at the gun digging into his ribs and licked his lips, his mouth dry. "I'd rather not," he drawled, frantically trying to think of a method of escape as he scanned the room once again, vainly looking for anything that he could use.
Randolph turned to pick up the forgotten briefcase from the desk and froze with his hand in midair when he noticed it was gone. "Tony? What happened to the ledgers?" he asked sharply.
Tony turned back in confusion, slightly averting the gun from Ezra's side as he did so. "What?"
Suddenly, the room was rocked by a loud explosion just outside the door. A few ceiling tiles fell with a crash, and a shelf toppled over, sending it contents to the floor as smoke billowed into the room. Randolph ducked down beside the desk in surprise, while Tony and Ezra both stumbled backwards from the doorway. "What the—" Tony coughed.
Ezra didn't have time to wonder what had happened—he just sent a quick prayer of thanks skyward and took full advantage of it. In the instant after the explosion, he was jerking his arm out of the larger man's grip while spinning him into the wall with the other arm. Tony slammed face first into the hard surface with a surprised grunt. Ezra pressed his advantage and whirled into a roundhouse kick to the head that his old sensei would have been proud of.
The thug collapsed to the floor in a heap.
Ezra quickly pulled the gun out of his grasp and slipped out the door. Randolph looked up in time to see him disappear into the smoky exterior and stumbled to the opening, his eyes watering and his chest heaving. "He's getting away!" he screamed at the scattered men outside.
Chaos reined in the hangar as men scrambled to contain the blaze. After pitching her homemade bomb at the office door, Ally had taken off back across the catwalk in the direction that she had come. One man noticed movement above him and shouted a startled" hey you!" before letting loose with a spray of bullets from his assault rifle. The girl jerked as bullets pinged around her and without second thought, vaulted over the side. She dropped two stories to land in a graceful tuck and roll in the aisle below. She was instantly on her feet, running flat out and weaving around the various crates standing in her path. Several men took off in chase, firing wildly at her.
Ezra didn't notice any of this, as the hangar was still smoky and he was too intent on his own survival. He eased his way down an aisle, listening careful for sounds of pursuit. He peaked around the corner, then quietly slipped up behind the man standing with his back to him and slammed his gun butt onto the man's head.
The man slid bonelessly to the floor.
Ezra dropped to one knee, holding his confiscated gun up while he rifled through the man's pockets with his other hand in search of more ammunition. He heard a noise behind him and spun around to find another thug grinning down on him with a large semi-automatic pointed at his head. Ezra stood up slowly and lifted his arms into the air, holding the pistol upside down in his hand in a non-threatening position. "I don't suppose we could negotiate this?" he asked hopefully.
The man's evil smile grew wider and he shook his head no as he raised the gun to point it directly between Ezra's eyes. Ezra's breath caught in his throat as he stared down the black barrel of the gun before looking into his soon-to-be assassin's gleaming eyes. The man slowly began to pull back the trigger—then inexplicably stopped suddenly before his eyes widened in confusion and rolled up in the back of his head. He dropped to the floor with a thud.
Standing over him was the girl, breathing hard, a large pipe in her hand. She looked up at Ezra. "Come on! This way!" she motioned for him to follow her then took off back the way she had come, dropping the pipe as she went.
Ezra stared at her in shock for a moment, trying to figure out just where the h**l she had come from, but nearby shouts broke him from his reverie. He stepped over the fallen man with barely a glance at the hulk and sprinted down the aisle behind her.
His first priority was to get out of the building alive—he could figure out that mystery later.
They crept away from the loading dock, sticking to the shadows as they eased silently through the aisles, like ghosts. They came to a wide open area and paused a moment to catch their breath and clear the smoke from their lungs. The exit beckoned them enticingly from across the expanse, but little cover lay between them and it. The girl looked up at Ezra and raised an eyebrow—he responded with a slight shrug. She took a deep breath and started across, Ezra hot on her heels. Unfortunately, one of the gunmen turned at the same moment and spotted them. "There they are!" he yelled as he opened up his weapon.
Ezra and the girl dove in opposite directions, and he hit the ground in a roll, coming to his feet in one quick movement and sliding behind a crate. He fired a couple of shots back towards the gunman, while trying to see where the girl had gotten to, but was distracted by another storm of bullets ricocheting around him. He cringed down beside the crate as large splinters and chunks of wood rained down on him. He quickly jumped up and fired a few more rounds before sliding back down in his position. He checked the rounds left in his gun and grimaced as he found three bullets in the clip. "Frying pan into the fire," he muttered to himself as he peaked around the corner of the box. Seeing an opening, he jumped to his feet and sprinted across to the next crate a few yards away, diving down behind it just as a hail of bullets filled the air space he had occupied seconds before.
Tony stumbled out of the office with his boss on his heels. "What the h**l happened out here?" he yelled as he rubbed his head gingerly.
"Some kid threw a firebomb from the catwalk, sir!" the gunman who had raised the alarm answered smartly.
"A kid? Where the h**l did a kid come from?" Tony asked in disbelief, his hand dropping to his side.
Randolph grabbed his arm and spun him around to face him. "You said the place was clear! First Banning, then Standish, and now this?! You are becoming frighteningly slipshod, Vitalis!" he growled menacingly.
"I'll take care of it!" Tony snapped back, jerking his arm out of the other man's hold.
A shout directed their attention to where Ezra and the girl had been spotted. He watched as his men fired continuously at the area, and stalked in that direction to take command.
Ezra crouched down in his hiding spot, running through his limited options mentally. A strange smell penetrated his thoughts, and he sniffed the air suspiciously, a feeling of dread creeping up his spine at the alarmingly familiar scent. He looked up at the wall behind him and his heart plummeted into his stomach as he realized what the pipes running the length of the surface carried. A slight hissing sound and the strong odor indicated that said pipes were leaking. "Oh l**d," he breathed as he scrambled away from them as quickly as possible.
As Tony reached his men, another shout of "There he goes!" directed his attention to the far wall, even as the gunmen again began spraying the area with bullets. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the gas lines and meter. "Stop!" he screamed, but he was too late.
A large explosion ripped through the building as the bullets tore into the pipes, igniting the natural gas inside.
A wall of heat knocked Tony and his men to the floor as flames began racing across the floor. Tony sat up groggily, surrounded by groaning and scorched men. He stumbled to his feet as the fire quickly grew in intensity and smoke filled the building. Though the protective measures put in place on the gas line kicked in instantly, cutting off the gas feed, the fire had already taken hold of the old, brittle wooden framing of the building and the debris lying on the floor and stacked along the walls, the flames consuming anything in their path. He glanced toward the crates that had just been unloaded that evening, and fear froze his veins as he saw the flames surrounding them, slowly advancing toward them. He turned and raced back to his boss, shouting at his men to get out. Randolph climbed to his feet as Tony reached him. "Where is he?" he shouted furiously. "Get Standish!"
"We don't have time for that!" Tony shouted back. "The fire is headed toward the shipment! There's gunpowder and explosives in those crates! We have to get out of here before this whole place is blown to bits!"
Randolph looked back toward the crates and cursed in fear. He and Tony began running for the only clear exit across the building, their men stumbling after them and the fire closing in from all sides.
The ball of heat knocked into Ezra even as he dove across a pile of old pipes and boards, and he literally flew across the heap and slammed into the wall beyond. He lay on his stomach on the floor in a daze for a few moments, the breath knocked out of him. He felt hands turning him onto his side, and he looked up into the clear and watering blue eyes of the girl. "Get up! We have to get out of here now!" she wheezed as she helped him to his feet and pulled him further into the hangar and away from where the others had ran.
He balked, pulling in the opposite direction. "The exit's this way!" he shouted over the roar of the flames.
"It's blocked by the fire!" she yelled back. "There's another way out this way! Trust me!"
Ezra looked into her eyes for a moment and was drawn by the intensity he saw there. He then glanced back at the fire and saw the crates of ammunition in its path and quickly scrambled after her. He followed her through the shadows, even as the fire grew behind them. Just when he was about to protest again, He saw it—an old window about twenty feet in front of them. The glass had long been broken out and the opening boarded over, but he could see that some of the boards had been recently pried loose. He raced up to it and quickly knocked the remaining covering to the ground outside before boosting himself into the opening and dropping to the ground below.
He immediately turned back around to help the girl through—but she wasn't there. He stuck his head back in the window to spot her on her knees beside an old cart several feet away, trying to reach something underneath. "Come on!" he shouted.
"Just a minute!" she poked her tongue out the side of her mouth as she continued to grope underneath the cart. She hadn't thought she had pushed them so far back!
"We don't have a minute! When the fire reaches those crates this whole place is going to blow!" Ezra yelled back furiously.
Just as he was preparing to re-enter the building after her, she pulled a black backpack and a battered briefcase out and leaped to her feet. He stood back as she tossed them both out the window and scrambled after them. She scooped them up and raced toward a small opening in the fence across the muddy parking lot, Ezra hot on her heels. She slid through the hole; then held the fencing back as Ezra slipped through after her, and together they ran for the next building beyond. Just as they turned the corner, a huge explosion rocked the ground and they stumbled a bit from the concussion but quickly regained their footing and continued to flee from the bedlam behind them.
She led him through the darkened streets, following a twisting, convoluted path through the seeder parts of the city in their bid for escape. As they ran, the heavens opened, and the clouds that had been threatening all day again unleashed their bounty in the form of a steady, cold rain that quickly had them both drenched. Ezra had no idea where they were, and followed blindly without thought, trusting her to get them to safety.
Finally, they reached an old storm culvert in the suburbs of the city and stopped to get their breath. Ezra bent over, his hands on his knees as he gasped for air, his breath crystallizing into white puffs in the cold surroundings, while the girl leaned back against the wall and wiped a long, wet strand of hair from her face.
After a few moments, she peaked out into the night, making sure they hadn't been followed, before turning back to him. The steady staccato of the rain on the pavement outside drummed quietly in the background, adding a slightly ethereal feel to the night. She looked him up and down for a moment before finally stopping at his eyes. He stood up slowly as she stared intently into the glittering emerald depths and he had the distinct, eerie, and entirely uncomfortable feeling that she was looking into his very soul.
He also took his first good look at her as they stood there studying each other in the faint glow from the street light above. She was a little taller than average, probably about five foot seven or eight, and was thin to the point of malnutrition. Her hair, plaited into a loose braid, was straight and long, ending at the small of her back, and though it was dark now with rain, he figured it to be a warm shade of brown. Her eyes were a pale blue and sparked with intelligence and confidence. Her jeans and T-shirt were faded but clean, and the jean jacket was obviously well-worn and a little large for her while her scruffy tennis shoes had clearly seen better days.
It was quite obvious that she was a street kid, but there was something about her, some spark of life that spoke of an inner strength that set her apart from the rest. Though obviously wary of him, she didn't try to cover her caution with false bravado. As she stood in front of him, she seemed to hold herself with a quiet confidence, as though she knew her strengths, her weaknesses, and her limitations, and was at peace with that knowledge. She projected a sense of awareness of what was going on around her, and a touch of true courage. He saw no fear in her steady gaze. Her eyes were clear, bright and intense, with no evidence of drugs or alcohol abuse.
She obviously kept herself clean within and without.
She finally broke her gaze and nodded to herself, as if she had made a decision, and took a step forward. She held her hand out to him and smiled at him warmly. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Alex."
