Pretty Pictures (ATF)

by Brandgwen

Disclaimer: The guys belong to Mirisch, etc., the universe belongs to Mog, "Addicted to Bass" belongs to Daemion/Abrahams (copyright 1998 Prozaac Recordings) and "Last Ditch Cabaret" belongs to Mark Seymour (copyright 1997 Mushroom Records). Ezra's past is the sum of previous fanfics, but the rest comes purely from my head, so don't hold me to any facts. I'm not making money, I'm not worth suing.
Author's Note: This fanfic is the first in the Deep Cover series.

Jennings

Eric Jennings, the subject of the next photograph, was the company's senior accountant. He was young for his position, at thirty-two, and appeared even younger. He was an arrogant son-of-a-bitch who had long since gained a reputation for being both clever and morally bankrupt. He had done a good job laundering the proceeds from the arms sales. As far as the ATF could prove, he was squeaky clean.

Jennings was a pain in the arse. So full of his own self-importance was he, that, more than once, he demanded the head of security, himself, act as his bodyguard. Conners did not argue; indulgence was a small price to pay for such a brilliant mind. Ezra wanted to argue, but Jennings was a target, so getting to know him was Ezra's job.

Jennings seemed to take to this Mitchell person. Being a confirmed coward, Eric admired the awe Mitchell's occupation inspired. He felt empowered just being around Alex and flattered himself that they were actually friends. Ezra understood this and allowed the accountant to follow him around. Eventually, he even grew accustomed to the whining little man.

Ezra had been working the case for three months before he got his first of many invitations to one of Jennings' infamous parties. Jennings was young, had too much money and no class. He had long since realised that money bought power, friends and a few other perks, which nerdy Eric had never experienced before. As far as Ezra could gather, there were two reasons for attending one of Jennings parties. The first was that you wished to do business in a social setting. The second was you wanted to get very high and pick up one of the many women who seemed to congregate there.

Jennings house was enormous and situated in one of the most exclusive neighbourhoods in Denver. By the time Ezra turned up, the whole living room smelt as if talcum powder and dozens of used needles rested in the many ashtrays around the room. At least they won't die of nicotine poisoning, Ezra thought, making his was past the drooling, giggling crowd, stepping over Jennings, himself. Out in the rear courtyard, most of the business people stood, sipping martinis and talking in hushed tones. Ezra noted a few familiar faces, including Conners speaking to a young woman Ezra recognised as his fourth target, Cassandra Jameson. Ezra snorted, as he realised Conners was actually drunk and trying to peer down the shorter woman's dress. She had her arms folded across her chest and was trying to ignore her married boss's indiscretion.

Conners spotted Ezra and called him over. "Mitchell! Mitchell, my man, come meet our most enchanting Miss Jameson!"

Ezra smiled and approached the couple. "Mr Conners, I didn't expect to see you here, tonight."

"I never miss an opportunity to socialise with my employees," Conners leered at Jameson, again, and Ezra could see her discomfort with this display heighten. "Anyway, Mitchell, I just wanted to introduce you to our lovely Miss Jameson. She takes care of all our major legal matters."

Ezra extended his hand to the woman, with his most endearing smile. "A pleasure."

Jameson shook it, politely, but there was no return smile. She seemed distracted by the whispers circulating around her, knowing full well they involved her relationship with her boss. Her older, married boss, who just refused to leave her alone.

Ezra chatted for a while, actually having quite a good time. Conners was many things, but never dull. Eventually, Standish excused himself. He almost felt guilty, leaving the lawyer alone, but Standish was here to work. He walked back toward the house, but, before reaching the living room, made a detour up the stairs. On the second floor were Jennings' bedroom and study. Both doors were closed and locked, but Standish made short work of this. Within minutes, he was seconded behind closed doors, going through Jennings' files.

Jennings, being the paranoid type, kept paper copies of most of his files. The files included neither names nor account numbers, so Jennings believed them secure. What he forgot was that fact that bank statements could be subpoenaed and dates and amounts cross-referenced. While Standish suspected many of the cash sinks were Swiss bank accounts and thus untraceable, all they needed to show was that Jennings had managed some of the accounts they already knew were dirty.

Standish thumbed through the files, looking for dates that correlated with known arms deals. He then looked for anything dealing in large amounts of money. All in all, he stole from the office about a three-inch stack of paper. Walking through the livingroom, no one noticed him leave. He went to his own office, faxed the information to a secure line held by Chris Larabee, then returned back to Jennings' house. By this time, the host had retired to his luxurious bedroom, with one of his less discerning female guests. Thanks to this distraction, Ezra even managed to re-file the pages, without detection. Mission accomplished, Alex Mitchell returned to the party.