Rope Enough

by Brandgwen

Disclaimer: Profiler is the property of NBC and Sander/Moses. The Magnificent Seven is the property of Watson/Densham and CBS. The ATF universe belongs to Mog. I'm not making any money, I'm not worth suing.

Author's Note: This is an ATF/Profiler cross-over, inspired by the challenge put forward by Michelle Naylor. Background is gleaned from a number of ATF fics, in particular "How DID He Get That Car?", by Mog and "Your True Family", by Ruby. Thanks to to everyone who helped me with the background information.

I Know That Guy

The database information took a good two minutes to spill out across the computer screen. Listed were all inmates condemned to death in the US in the last fifty years. JD tapped on a few keys, narrowing down the list such that only those who already executed remained. Better. Finally, he selected white males who had been hanged. Fifteen, most of them early in the time frame.

The names listed then had to be cross-referenced with police records. This was not an easy task; the executions had been conducted in five different states. The initial arrest reports were filed according to the place of arrest and the legal files were all sealed for confidentiality. Tired, but persistent, JD hacked his way through each barrier.

This would be so much easier if I knew what I was looking for.

Bit by bit, JD built up information stores on each of the criminals. He found physical descriptions and mug shots, as well as details of their immediate family and known associates. He followed the paper trail each had left, from their various arrests right through to their autopsy and burial. Tales of men doing terrible things and being punished for them in terrible ways. A lot for a kid to deal with in one night but JD persevered.

It was hours before JD reached the last name. Alexander Sutter, born 1938, died 1975, in Montana. Exhausted, he read the arrest report and the physical description - 6'1", medium build, brown hair, etc... JD chuckled, give him a moustache and a sneaky grin and I know that guy. Casually, as he called up the prison files, he wondered what Buck was up to. No good, no doubt.

Finally, the postmortem report downloaded onto the screen. What he read made JD's stomach turn. The body displayed bruising around the neck and wrists. The eyes were red and bulging and the lips blue. The man had bitten right through his tongue. The cause of death was asphyxiation. The drop had been insufficient to break the man's neck. He had strangled to death and it had taken ten minutes.

Grace carefully closed the abdominal incision, using temporary sutures. She would finish the job, properly, once she had completed the postmortem. Apart from what had been superficially evident, nothing had been amiss, so far. The victim had actually been quite fit. All she had left to do was examine the internal structures of the neck.

The line left by the rope extended from under the chin, just above the adam's apple, to just below the hair line; consistent with a hanging. The hyoid bone, which formed the adam's apple, was fractured and the cartilage of the trachea crushed. The oesophagus and blood vessels also showed signs of severe bruising. All to be expected. Finally, Grace looked at the spine. Working her way up from the fourth vertebra, she searched for any signs of trauma, finding none, until she reached the second vertebra.

"Well, what do we have here? Well, well, son-of-a-bitch."

Malone, Grant and Waters sat in their borrowed office, eating Chinese take-away. Once Standish had been released, the ATF agents had gone off in their own little huddle, seeking instruction from their leader. The FBIs had left them to it.

"So you don't think he's our guy, huh?" Malone didn't sound too disappointed.

Sam finished her mouthful of noodles, before she answered. "I don't know. He fits the serial killer profile. A lot of people do, of course, but Standish has a very serious persecution complex. Even when Josiah questioned him, his answers were defensive."

"But...?" Bailey prodded.

"But these murders aren't his style. If Ezra were the killer, I would expect to see blood. It would be about the release of anger. He would never execute a helpless man; where's the rush? Besides which, loner though he is, he's desperate to gain acceptance from the team. He would see his actions as counter-productive and he would try to hide them."

"You know what?" John didn't bother finishing his mouthful, "I'm not sure I even buy this bribery thing."

"Really?" Malone had not realised John even knew about that.

"Yeah, I mean, when I was talking to him today, he kinda seemed to have a sore spot when it came to that. I was really having a go at him, but he never even bothered to defend himself, until I accused him of getting some agents killed."

"I think most people would react to that, John."

"Sure, but most people would have objected before it came to that. The man is the most cold-blooded individual I've ever met, but he couldn't let that one slide."

"I agree with John," Sam was surprised anyone would ever suspect the ATF agent of such a thing, "he defines himself according to his work. For Standish to take bribes, he would have to abandon all sense of self-worth. He's not that far gone."

Malone nodded. "You know, when Larabee and I were interviewing him, I kind of got that impression, too. Back when he was in the FBI, I worked with him once or twice. He was very good, but had a well-earned reputation as a maverick. I always figured he was just another rookie with a death-wish. Today, though, he really seemed to be playing it straight."

"I've got a feeling that has a lot to do with Larabee. Standish really seems to respect his command."

"Of course, if he weren't on the take, how'd he get the car?" Malone chuckled, remembering the first time the agent turned up to work in the Jag. Most people would have looked smug. Standish had looked embarrassed.

"What car?"

"The man drives a luxury car and wears Armani suits, all on an ATF pay-packet."

"That's how I know he wasn't on the take," John scoffed.

"Why's that?"

"Way too slippery. If he were into bribery, he be wearing no-brand jeans and driving a ten year old Toyota."

"Still, how does a man on a federal agent's salary get a Jag?"

"His mother."

None of the FBI agents had heard the young ATF approach the doorway, but there Tanner stood, a half smile on his face.

"How long have you been standing there?" Malone enquired, calmly.

"Pretty much the whole time."

John chuckled. "Want some Chinese?"

"Sure, thanks."

Van took a seat on the desk, next to John.

"So, Tanner, what's this about the car?"

"Don't tell him I told you this, but his mother bought it for him."

"His mother?"

"Well, actually, step-father number seven-or-eight. He owns a dealership. They nabbed Ezra's old car and sold it out from under him, so he had to take the Jag."

"He could'a' sold it and bought a less expensive one," Malone suggested, not sure how you could make a person who was given that kind of gift into a victim.

Tanner chuckled. "Have you seen the car? I'm not sure I would'a' sold it."

John grinned, then asked, "if you're not supposed to tell anybody, why tell us?"

"Its better than letting you think he's crooked, no matter what Ezra says."

JD wandered, bleary eyed, into the office. "Do I smell food?"

Sam chuckled and handed a small carton of chow mien to the young agent.

"Thanks, Dr Waters. Hey, Vin, where'd everyone go?"

"Josiah took Ezra home. He's got a long day, tomorrow, following up that Booker lead. Chris is picking Buck up from the hotel and they're gonna check on Nate."

"Kinda late to be going to the uni, don't ya think?"

"It's the only time they can go and not get noticed."

"Find anything, Kid?" Malone had been monitoring JD's progress through the police files.

"Maybe. I mean, there's a lotta stuff out there, but I don't know if its the right stuff."

They all nodded and returned their attention to the food. It was obvious that they were still pretty close to square one - something the ATF agents had always known, but which the FBI agents had hoped was not the case. They had wasted valuable time on Standish.

The hurried clacking of shoes on the linoleum could be heard long before Grace appeared.

"I've found something."