Boy, these things are flying off the shelf now! I even gave up a nice, long, leisurely nap to get this updated and posted before I went to work, all just for you guys!

 Like I said before, I've gotten to the part I like best now, and these last few chapters don't have much that I need to change, like the first chapters did.  See?  I did improve as I went along!  And as I promise, things are finally picking up! 

Lora—thanks so much for your review today (3/22)—it was a great birthday present!  I'm so glad you're enjoying this.  And don't worry—I'll get back to Buck shortly.  Promise!

Okay, I'll quit yammering and get on with the story.

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CHAPTER 19

           "Laslo," Bartinol motioned toward his gunman standing at the front door as he stepped further into the room, "go back out front and stand watch.  Make sure that we do not have any unwanted intruders."

           The henchmen nodded and headed back out the door, stepping over Buck's body without a second glance.  Vitalis jerked his head at one of his own guards toward the back door as he trained his gun on Ezra.  "Get out back and do the same thing."

           The second gunman pushed past his boss and jogged through the kitchen out the back, leaving two other gunmen in addition to Vitalis and the crime lords in the room—and still out-numbering the good guys by two to one.  Bartinol turned to Alex and motioned for his guard to release her arm.  She stepped back toward Ezra, her face devoid of all emotion except for contempt and her eyes hooded as she faced the man who had destroyed her life.  Bartinol allowed a faint smile to come to his lips as he recognized the expression that the girl wore—it was the same one that her father had worn when he faced him all those years ago.

           The girl certainly was her father's daughter.

           "Miss Sanders," he said pleasantly, "it has been a long time.  It is so good to see you alive and healthy.  I had begun to believe like the others that you had met an unfortunate demise."

           Alex shrugged as she looked up into his eyes, the hint of promise and determination shining in her own.  "Much to your disappointment, I'm sure," she answered.

           "On the contrary, my dear," he disagreed as he pulled his gloves off.  "I have nothing against you personally and do not wish to see any harm come to you."

           "Funny, that wasn't the impression I got six years ago in Vancouver," she observed wryly.

           "Yes, well, at that point it was in my own interest, but the following events made it no longer necessary.  I do not just murder at will, contrary to what you may think.  I find that it brings so many more problems than it solves in the long run.  Therefore, I use it only as a last resort and purely for business reasons only.  Murder to satisfy some petty need for revenge or other some such foolish reason is uncouth at best and simply unprofessional," Bartinol explained casually as he sat down on the arm of the recliner. 

"So it's a 'nothing personal; this is just business' sort of thing?" Ezra asked derisively.  "And I can assume the deaths of the young lady's parents fell into that category as well?"

"But of course," Bartinol shrugged.  "Personally, I had great admiration for the man.  He was quite an excellent agent, and I wholly enjoyed our little game of wits.  However, he insisted on repeatedly interfering with my affairs, something that I could not allow to continue.  And I did offer other options and warnings, but he chose the noble route," he shook his head.  "He should have understood that chivalry was antiquated, nobility passé, and both severely over-rated.  Had he heeded my numerous warnings and left well enough alone, he would still be alive and well today.  But he insisted on pursuing the matter, and I'm afraid, suffered the consequences."

Ezra raised an eyebrow.  "I suppose since you risked coming here instead of absconding from the city as quickly as possible, you have decided that the demise of the young lady is a crucial necessity?"

Bartinol rested his hands on his crossed knee and shook his head.  "Actually, Mr. Standish, that is not true.  I am here only for the disks that her father compiled.  In fact, had she simply given me the disks six years ago, this whole situation could have been avoided entirely. I do not enjoy killing women and children and have no wish to eradicate such a young and promising life.  Having that said, however," he went on, a dangerous light coming to his eyes as he focused on the girl, "Understand that I will not hesitate to use such practices should they become necessitated."

Alex returned his gaze unflinchingly, her features cold and composed.  "Oh, I understand completely."

"While this entire conversation is fascinating, can we get on to the topic at hand?  We are running on a tight schedule, if you remember."  Randolph glanced at his watch impatiently and grimaced.  "I would prefer to be well on my way out of the state before Larabee calls to check in here and realizes what has happened."  He turned to his men.  "Search the house.  Find the ledgers."

The gunmen nodded and quickly began ransacking the house.  Tony held Ezra in place by training his gun on the man while Alex dropped to her knees beside Buck.  Ezra watched in apprehension as she carefully laid the man completely down onto the floor and checked his pulse and breathing rate.  She looked up with a swift nod and a small smile and Ezra sighed in relief at her assurance that for now, Buck was doing alright.  Alex placed a throw pillow from the couch under his head and used the linen doily from under the telephone to gently but firmly press against the gash on the man's forehead in an effort to stop the bleeding.  A few minutes later, the searchers returned with empty hands and shakes of their heads indicating they had found nothing.  Randolph sighed and turned to Ezra.  "Where are they?"

Ezra leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.  "I'm sorry, but the objects in question are in the hands of the proper authorities," he stated mildly.

Randolph shook his head.  "And I don't believe you.  Agent Thomas says they are here in this house." He narrowed his eyes.  "I want them now."

Ezra shrugged.  "You have been misinformed, sir.  They are not here."

Randolph gave him a piercing stare before stepping back with a shrug and nodding at Tony.  "If it must be done this way," he sighed long-sufferingly while raising his eyes to the ceiling with a shake of his head.

Vitalis walked up to Ezra and promptly buried his iron-like fist in the middle of the agent's stomach.  Ezra's breath whooshed from his lungs and he fell to his hands and knees, one arm clutching his midriff while he gasped for air.  Tony reached down and grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling his head up to face the crime lord.  "Really, Agent Standish," Randolph shook his head, "this is the hard way.  Simply give me what I want, and this can all end here."

Ezra bent his head back as far as he could, trying to relieve the pain of having his hair tore from his head by the roots and still trying to get air into his sluggish lungs, but he managed to give the man a proxy of his trademark smile.  "I'm afraid I cannot do that."

Randolph frowned and glanced at Tony, who took his cue and viciously backhanded the barrel of his pistol across the southerner's face.  Ezra saw it coming out of the corner of his eye and twisted to avoid serious damage, but still received a wicked cut along his left cheek and he fell across the slumped form of Buck on the floor beside him.  Dazed, Ezra pushed himself up on his hands, straddling the body of his friend as he tried to regain his wits.  He fingered the cut gingerly and looked at his fingers, frowning at the blood staining their tips and dripping onto the t-shirt of the man below him.  He stared at the growing bloodstain below him, trying to remember what happened.  Randolph and Bartinol escaped….were here…wanted to know where the evidence was….Buck, hurt—his eyes widened at the last thought and he quickly turned his head to see the bloodied features of his unconscious friend.  It took a moment before he registered the slight rise and fall of the t-shirted chest below him, but when he did, he closed his eyes in relief. 

 Vitalis, however, gave him no room for more thought before grabbing his hair once again and jerking him to his feet while twisting his left arm behind him in an agonizing lock.  Ezra's eyes widened at the pain, recognizing that the man held his bad arm in his grip even as he felt the tendons slip in his shoulder.  He grimaced and shifted, trying to ease the pressure on the appendage before the shoulder popped out of socket.  Vitalis pressed the barrel of his gun against his right ear and leaned in close.  "The man asked you a simple question.  Answer him," he ordered.

Ezra gritted his teeth but refused to back down.  "Go to h**l," he hissed.

Tony growled in anger and pulled the agent around, violently propelling him into the wall then reaching up to slam his head face first against the wood paneling twice more before kneeing him in the kidneys.  Ezra sank to the floor with a groan.

Randolph tsked as he squatted down beside the man.  "This is but a mere glimpse of what Tony is capable of, Mr. Standish, and I can assure you, he can prolong your agony for hours, but as fascinating as that prospect is, I'm afraid I'm running short on time.  I must insist on knowing where those documents are located."

Ezra pushed himself up into a sitting position and gently tested his sore nose, deciding that it wasn't broken.  He then looked up at the man, a brazen smile on his bloody lips, and shrugged.  "I'm sorry, but I cannot recollect the whereabouts of said documents."

Randolph's eyes narrowed as he stood to his feet.  "Then you need something to jog your memory.  What do you suggest, Tony?" he asked mildly.

Tony grinned wickedly and cocked his pistol.  "How about a bullet to the knees?" he offered, aiming his gun at Ezra's legs.

"An excellent idea."  All humor left Randolph's face. "Tell me where the disks are, Agent Standish."

The fear of being crippled flashed through Ezra, but he pushed it deep down, refusing to allow his enemy to see it.  He glanced over at Alex and saw her pale slightly, dread written clearly in her features.  His gaze roamed back to the penitent features of Thomas, who refused to meet his eyes.  Finally, he looked over at the still form of his comrade in arms, and made his decision.   He knew that if he were to turn the evidence over to them, Randolph would not hesitate to kill them all immediately. He also knew that the others would soon realize something was wrong and would be on their way. 

For all their sakes, he had to stall for more time, no matter what the cost to himself.

Ezra licked his lips before meeting his enemy's piercing gaze with an indifferent one of his own. "Do what you must, then.  I'm afraid I simply cannot oblige you, sir."

           Randolph stood back and slipped his hands into his pockets as he intently studied the defiant features of the agent for a moment before looking back up to meet the questioning look in his henchman's eyes.  "So be it," he said and nodded to Tony.

           Tony grinned and squeezed the trigger.

           Ezra looked straight into the gunman's eyes and braced himself for the impact and pain—but neither came.  Instead, He watched in horror as the man turned and aimed at Alex and Buck just as he pulled the trigger.  "No!"  Ezra yelled even as the bullet exploded from the chamber.

           Alex's eyes widened as she watched the gun barrel swing from Ezra to her a second before the shot sounded.  She gasped and ducked over Buck's head, cringing as she felt splinters rain down on her back from the hole in the paneling a scant two inches above where her head had been.  She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and let out a shuddering breath before glancing up into Ezra's fearful gaze and smiling weakly in reassurance.  He slumped back against the wall in relief.

           "Tell me where the evidence is, or the next bullet will be significantly lower," Randolph demanded harshly. 

           Ezra glanced back at Alex and Buck and sighed.  "The closet floor in the bathroom has a panel that comes up.  Mr. Larabee keeps a strongbox in the space underneath.  He put the ledgers and the disks in there."

           Bartinol jerked his head back toward the hallway and his lackey immediately backtracked toward the appointed room.  He returned a few minutes later with the strongbox in hand, which he set onto the coffee table.  Tony shot the lock off the box and pushed the lid open to glance inside.  "They're here, Boss," he grinned, reaching in for the top book, which he quickly handed to Randolph. 

           Randolph quickly flipped through the ledgers before closing them with a snap.  He handed them back to his gunman to be slipped into a messenger bag and turned to Ezra with a smile.  "Thank you for your cooperation, Agent."

           Ezra met his snide smirk with a contemptuous look of his own.  "I assure you, it was no pleasure at all."

           Bartinol stood up from his seat as he flipped through the disks, nodding as he recognized the handwriting on the floppy versions and taking note of the compact disk versions.  He tapped them back into order and looked at Randolph.  "I want to check these."

           "We don't have time!"  Randolph started to protest, but quickly quieted under the decidedly cold look he received from the crime lord.

           "We will make time," Bartinol said evenly.  He turned to Ezra.  "Where is Larabee's computer?"

           "The dining room," Ezra answered in a monotone as he gingerly dabbed at the slowly congealing cut on his cheek with his handkerchief.

           Bartinol nodded and headed toward the room with a determined stride, and Randolph let out a quiet curse before jerking his head toward the room and following the other man.  Tony waved the gun, indicating that Ezra and Alex were to get to their feet before herding them after the others.  The last gunman paused beside the fallen ladies' man and nudged him with his boot.  When Buck didn't respond, the man nodded and followed the others, leaving the agent on the floor.

* * * * * * *

           Chris and Vin rode in silence as they cruised down the small highway in the gathering light of dawn.  After Stone had reported where the dirt road led, he and Vin had quickly left the mansion operation under Kelly's expert hands and had taken off down the road, hoping to pick up a trail.  Mud on the pavement at the end of the track indicated which direction the other vehicle had gone and they had quickly picked up the pursuit, keeping an eye out for any turn-offs while monitoring the investigation over the radio.  They had been driving for twenty minutes before Vin spoke up.  "Pull off here," he directed suddenly from his seat on the passenger side of the Ram.

            Chris braked and whipped the large black truck off the small highway into the rutted parking lot of the small abandoned store, causing Vin to grab the door handle to keep from sliding across the seat onto his boss.  "Smooth, Larabee," he muttered with a quick, annoyed glance at his leader as he pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool air before the truck had completely come to a rest, pulling his gun from his shoulder hostler as he went. 

Chris's one-fingered gesture was his only reply as he slammed the pick-up into park and followed the lanky Texan out, ignoring the yellowish mud that covered the vehicle as he pulled his own gun to give his friend cover.  A quick search proved the area to be empty.  Vin walked up to the store front and nodded at the broken lock before squatting down and looking at something on the pavement.  He reached down and fingered a dark stain, bringing the black substance up to his nose before wiping his hands off on his jeans.  "Oil.  Fresh," he commented quietly, looking up at the blond.

           Chris nodded in acknowledgement as he slowly pushed the door open to the building, cautiously peering into the gloomy interior before making his way inside.  He took note of the disturbance in the dust-covered floor that was evident in the wane light filtering in through the filthy plate-glass window in the front of the room.  Vin followed him inside and made a quick search of the room.  "They were here," he noted.

           "Yep," Chris answered, taking another look around before they stepped back outside.

           Vin holstered his gun before giving his leader a pointed look.  "I'd say they have no more than a twenty minute lead on us."

           Chris ran a hand down his face.  "Yeah, but where did they go from here?" he wondered out loud.

           Vin glanced back down at the oil stain, a shrewd glint entering his eye as he contemplated it.  He crossed back and forth in the front of the building before nodding once to himself.  He looked back up at Chris, an uneasy look on his face.  "I think they met someone."

           "Thomas?"  Chris asked.

            "Could be."

           Chris sighed and holstered his own gun as he glanced down the road, an edgy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.  "Wonder why they headed this way," he commented suddenly.  "This road leads away from DIA and Jefferson County both, and it's headed out into the mountains.  The interchange with I-70 was five miles back and the next is not for another ten miles.  If they plan on getting out of the state in a hurry, they'd have to take the interstate."

           Vin studied the west-bound road until it disappeared around a bend, his uneasiness quickly growing.  "You said the next exit is ten miles ahead of us.  Which one is that?" he asked suddenly.

           "Chester Junction.  It's two exits away from the one to the—S**t!" Chris exclaimed as he picked up on the tracker's line of thought.  "You don't think—"

           "It's a long shot, but then again," Vin shrugged, "I'd rest a lot easier if'n we were to head on out there, though."

           Chris nodded.  "I think you're right."  They turned back to the truck as one and quickly climbed in.  "Call Buck again," he ordered as they peeled out of the lot with a squeal of tires.  "Let him know what could be headed his way."

           He glanced over at his passenger to find him one step ahead, the phone already glued to his ear.  Vin met his gaze with a tense one of his own a few seconds later as he slowly lowered the earpiece.  "No answer."

           "D**n-it!" Chris cursed, hitting the wheel with a resounding smack.  He grabbed for the radio.  "JD!  We've picked up their trail and think they're headed for the ranch.  Get everyone out there now!"

           He slammed the gas pedal all the way the floorboard as the powerful truck roared out of another turn on two wheels.  They sat in taut silence as the scenery rushed by in a blur, both willing the vehicle to go faster, praying for a miracle even as dread of what awaited them filled their hearts.

* * * * * * *

           They all gathered loosely around the table as Bartinol settled in at the desk in the corner and waited patiently for the computer to boot up before inserting the first disk.  After he viewed each disk, he physically destroyed it.  Finally he finished and swiveled the chair around from the pile of plastic to face Ezra.  "Is that all of it?" he asked.

           Ezra fixed him with a laconic stare and nodded.  "Yes."

           Bartinol studied the cool expression for a moment, searching for a sign of deceit before standing from the chair.  "I suppose I must take your word for that," he mused as he pulled on the patent leather gloves and stepped away from the computer.  He suddenly pulled a small silver pistol out of his pocket and emptied the clip in the CPU.  Sparks flew across the room and smoke wafted on the air in the silence that followed the shots as everyone stared at the mangled machine.  Bartinol pocketed the gun and gave Standish a half smirk.  "Do forgive that.  I did need to make sure that a copy did not reside on the hard drive, after all."

           Ezra glanced back over at the smoldering remains and the scorch marks blackening the desk top and the wall behind it and shook his head ruefully. 

           Chris was going to love that.

           Bartinol stopped in the doorway and turned to Randolph.  "I suggest we vacate these premises post haste," he said, all humor gone from his features.

           "But what about Standish and the girl?" Vitalis asked.

           Bartinol shrugged.  "What you do with them is your concern.  I have what I wanted and wash my hands of the whole affair."

           Tony looked at his boss.  "Mr. Randolph?"

           Paul Randolph glanced at his watch with a frown before looking up to meet Ezra's piercing green eyes.  His own blue gaze narrowed in maliciousness before he turned back to his henchman.  "Kill them," he commanded.

           "W-wait a minute there!" Eddie protested.  He pushed forward and grabbed Bartinol by the arm, but dropped his hold when the older man turned a decidedly cold stare on him.  "You said that you would leave Alex alone if you got the disks!" he insisted.

           Bartinol straightened the sleeve of the cashmere coat and glanced over at the girl in question before turning back to the man before him.  "And I have.  However, I have no control over the actions and decisions of Mr. Randolph.  As I stated, I'm no longer involved." He stepped out of the room.

           Eddie turned his gaze on Randolph, but found no give in the older man.  Randolph nodded at his men.  "Do it, then set the place afire as you leave."  He smiled at Ezra.  "We want to leave Larabee a clear message as to what happens when he begins nosing in other people's business.  Fitting, don't you think, Mr. Standish?"

           "B*****d!" Ezra growled angrily at the other man, understanding the man's hidden meaning and realizing what such as scene would do to his commander. 

Randolph only laughed as he pulled on his gloves and adjusted the collar of his coat.  "May you burn in h**l, Mr. Standish," he cheerily called over his shoulder as he left the room.

           Tony grinned as he checked the load in his pistol and nodded at his man before taking careful aim right between Ezra's eyes, his man doing likewise to the girl.  "Say goodbye, Agent," he chuckled as he slowly squeezed the trigger.

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Don't ya just love these kinds of cliff hangers? **grins cheekily**

I'd love to hear from ya, so please review—they make my day and ensure more timely updates!