Alias Mars

By Michael Weyer

Part seven: Spy Daddy Meets P.I. Daddy

In his long career, Jack Bristow had met quite a few hard-headed individuals. It came with government work, after all. You couldn't spend your life in intelligence and not meet people more wrapped up with rules and regulations and their own sense of importance so they failed to see reality.

But Jack was hard pressed to remember the last person he'd met who was as completely wrong for his position as Don Lamb.

"I am asking again," he said in the tone that had cowered many a superior. "Where is my daughter?"

Lamb lounged in his seat with that cocky smirk in place. "And I'm telling you again. I turned her over to the feds so take it up with them."

"You couldn't have just turned them over without some sort of paperwork," Jack snapped. "There are procedures involved."

"Yeah, well, Don isn't too big on procedures," Keith observed from his spot in the other chair facing the desk. "He prefers to handle things in the FEMA fashion."

Jack nodded in understanding before turning his attention back to Lamb. "Mr. Lamb..."

"Sheriff Lamb."

"MR. Lamb," Jack went on. "I am asking you now, as an agent of the United States Government, to tell me any and all information you have about the man who took our daughters and where we might find him."

Lamb snorted. "That supposed to scare me? You don't intimidate me, pal."

"Then clearly, you're an even bigger imbecile than I already knew you were."

Lamb put his hands behind his head and leaned back on the swivel chair. "You know, I've pretty much lost my patience for this."

"For the first time," Jack calmly stated. "You've said something intelligent."

Keith barely registered what happened next. The desk was suddenly kicked back, sending the chair with Lamb against the wall. He bounced off, a look of surprise on his face and Jack was on his feet and rounding the desk. He grabbed Lamb and slammed his head down hard on the desk, pinning it down.

Jack's face was calm and collected but his voice rained icicles as he spoke. "Now then, you miserable little pissant shit," he bit out. "I was asking before as a government agent. Now, I am asking as a concerned parent. A parent who has enough connections, clout and blackmail material to be able to kill you right here and now and walk out of this station with no one able to touch me."

He pressed harder on Lamb's neck, causing the man to sputter. Keith was torn between interfering or just sitting back and enjoying the very appealing show. Lamb was feebly trying to push Jack off but would have had better luck throwing off an anvil. "What did he offer?" Jack hissed. "How much did he offer to get you to let them go so fast?"

"You can't…" Lamb gasped. "You can't do…"

Jack looked up to Keith. "Would you put a hand over his mouth?"

"Got one better." Keith reached into his pocket and pulled out a small roll of duct tape. Most people would have asked why he carried a roll of duct tape in his jacket pocket but Jack just accepted it with a nod. Keith tore off a piece and stuck it over Lamb's mouth, pressing down to make sure it was on tight.

Nodding a quick thanks, Jack held one of Lamb's hands behind his back, took a finger and bent it back sharply. Lamb gasped loud in pain. "I will ask just one more time," Jack said, his voice still calm. "And if you don't tell me the truth, I will break fingers. Are we clearly understood?"

Lamb feebly nodded, tears starting to appear in his eyes. Keith reached over and yanked the tape off hard, causing the sheriff to gasp in pain. He took a deep breath before rattling out words. "He…he told me…a special ten grand bonus…if I just…let them go. I could…use the money…for the campaign…"

"Did he give any indication where they were going?" Jack pressed. "Anything at all?" He twisted the finger a bit to urge Lamb on.

Gasping in pain, Lamb quickly spoke up. "He had someone with him…told him to get the van around…something about….the hotel…"

Nodding, Jack let go and shoved Lamb on the desk. The man rubbed his injured finger and groaned in pain. "I'm…I'm gonna see you in jail so fast…"

"No, you're going to let us go," Jack stated. "Because I have you on tape admitting you took a bribe from a man you weren't even sure worked for the FBI. A man who is actually a wanted terrorist, which means I can have you up on charges that will ensure a very long stay in a jail a far ways away from any country club."

Keith couldn't help but feel an immense satisfaction at the look of fear on Lamb's face. Nodding at him, Jack backed to the door. "I'd keep quiet about this for the time being, Mr. Lamb. Otherwise, I may return and this time…I'll be angry."

"That," Keith said as he caught up to Jack on the outside stairs. "Was the coolest thing I have seen in years."

"I'm happy you enjoyed it," Jack snapped as he headed away. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Mars, I have work to do."

"We have work to do," Keith said as he caught up and caught the man's arm.

Jack stared at the hand as if it was covered in bug juice before brushing it away. "Mr. Mars, I'm afraid this goes beyond you."

"My daughter is missing too," Keith said as he stepped forward. "So I'm in this. One way or another, I'm in this. Is that clear?"

Jack met his gaze, seeing Keith not flinching at all, seeing the hard-headedness in his own tone and did his best to hide a smile of respect. "Fine." He turned and headed to his car. "We've got a lot of ground to cover and not much time to do it."

Keith nodded and fell in behind him. "Wanna take my car?"

"I'd prefer something less conspicuous," Jack said as he led the way to a small dark sedan parked nearby. The two got in and drove off.

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"Okay," Marshall said over the phone. "Okay, we're double-checking all hotels in the area for recent arrivals and trying to pull phone records."

"Would they really take them to a hotel in town?" Keith asked as Jack drove the car down the streets of Neptune. "I would have thought they'd get them as far away as they could."

"It's possible Sark believes taking something more open than we expect will allow him to slip by us,' Jack intoned.

"Hide in plain sight," Keith mused. "Could work."

"It often does," Jack confirmed as he kept the car going. "Any luck yet?"

"Ah, not so far but we're narrowing it down," Marshall replied. "We're pretty sure it's one of five in the area."

"Uh-huh," Keith drawled. "Is this 'pretty sure' like 'we're pretty sure there's weapons of mass destruction' pretty sure?"

"There were, actually," Jack matter-of-factly stated. "But we managed to remove them. Unfortunately, our Commander-in-Chief never got the memo on that before publicly announcing they had them."

Keith stared at him. "Are you shitting me?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Do I strike you as the type of man who shits people?"

"Actually, yes, you do."

Jack glanced away. "Well, again, I don't suppose you have any ideas?"

Keith smiled as he reached into his pocket. "Now this is where we small-town guys have the advantage." He pulled out the cell phone and flipped it open. "You can have all the billion-dollar super-spy satellites you want…but that don't mean squat compared to connections." He dialed a number and listened in. "Maggie? It's Keith. Hey, how's the kid? Good, good. Listen, I could use a favor…"

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The Lexington wasn't one of the biggest or most stylish hotels in Neptune but it was popular due to its close location to the beach. Fifteen stories of art-deco walls with balconies, a large pool area and then the beach itself. Jack observed it through a pair of binoculars as he spoke. "Are you certain?"

"Maggie did some checking with some of the hotel people she knows," Keith said. "A guy matching this Sark's description checked in a few days ago with a couple of big helpers."

"And just how does this 'Maggie' know it's them?" Jack asked with obvious disbelief.

"She sent a couple of girls over to the room."

Jack paused and then turned to face Keith. "She runs a prostitution ring?"

"Now, now, escort service is the proper title," Keith chided. "It's a clean one, which is why it's still in business." As Jack kept staring at him, Keith held up his hands in defense. "Hey, if anyone knows the guys who are dirty, it's hookers."

Jack shook his head. "Sark will undoubtedly have a guard watching for anyone suspicious. And he'll regard most everyone with suspicion. It'd be almost impossible to get a strike team in close."

"Well, we could try some undercover work," Keith said. "Maybe you and I can rent a room together? Pose as a couple?"

Jack was silent for a full ten seconds. "If the comms line was on when you suggested that, you realize I'd have to kill you."

Keith shrugged and rubbed his chin. "Well, we could always go to Plan B."

"I wholeheartedly suggest that."

"I may not have been with the CIA but I know that distractions go a long way toward making a secret entry work." Keith smirked. "And I know just the guy to see about a big distraction."

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"So let me get this straight," Weevil said as he paced before Keith. "You want us to do you a solid?"

Most people would have shown some disdain at the run-down pool bar Weevil and his motorcycle gang hung out at. Jack, however, had been to places that made this look like the Ritz so he simply leaned on a pool table and let Keith do the talking.

"How about repaying Veronica for all the times she's helped you out?" Keith intoned as he stared the biker down.

Weevil shrugged as he moved to the table, lining up a shot. "That was a while ago and we pretty balanced the sheet already."

Keith moved in, his face serious. "She's in trouble, Eli. Major trouble. I need your help to get to her."

Weevil seemed torn for a moment and then shook his head. "I don't know…ain't like me to be the model citizen, you know?"

"I can make it worth your while," Jack stated.

Weevil looked up at him with a suspicious gaze. "What do you mean, white-collar?"

Jack calmly walked forward. "You want money, I can pay you."

Weevil snorted and spread his arms. "We look like we work for a living, holmes?"

"First, don't call me Holmes," Jack snapped. "Second, I am willing to give you more money that you'd make legally. Enough to get you out of any personal jams. And third, if you cooperate, I will not be tempted to use my agency's resources to make the lives of each and every person in this bar very, very difficult."

There was a chill in the air as Jack finished speaking and everyone realized he was deadly serious. Weevil paused, tapping a finger on his pool cue and then nodded. "Well, there is something you can do for me."

"What's that?" Jack asked.

A little smirk came to Weevil's lips. "You can pay a visit to a little rich whitie who's got my grandma's house under his thumb. Break the thumb off it…and you've got yourself your own little motor-club."

Keith looked to Jack. "If he's talking about who I think he's talking about, then we've got some bigger complications coming our way."

"I don't mind complications," Jack calmly stated as he pulled out a phone.

"Who you calling?" Keith asked.

Jack couldn't resist a small smile. "Well, this is an advantage we have over small-town guys. We have people to delegate tasks to."

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"Dude, if I wanted to see something white walk so much, I'd go see 'March of the Penguins,'" Logan Echolls said from his spot on the couch. Duncan Kane glared at him from his spot walking in the living room of his apartment.

"I'm worried about Veronica," Duncan snapped to his friend. "She's never so long without at least calling me."

"Hmmm...can't live without hearing your gal's call? Dr. Phil could have a blast with that," Logan said as he continued to play his video game.

"Aren't you worried about her?" Duncan asked.

Logan acted like he was thinking about it. "Hmmm...not really, no. Funny, once a girl dumps you and her father tells you he'll kill you if you come near her again, she sort of falls out of your list of priorities."

Duncan snorted. "I can't believe you're that cold to her."

"Cold, my friend, is a great survival tool, especially these days," Logan intoned. "I am the Arctic now…feel my chill."

Before Duncan could fire back, there was a knock at the door. Duncan sighed and rose to his feet to open it. "Yeah?"

Standing on the other side was a handsome man of about thirty who gazed at Duncan, then at Logan, with cool eyes. "I need to talk to Logan Echolls." Duncan backed up to let him in and motioned to the couch.

Logan glanced at the man and then returned to the game. "Sorry, wrong place for the gay booty call. Try Mr. Magruder in 4C."

"Mr. Echolls, my name is Michael Vaughn," the man stated. "And I need your help to save someone very close to me."

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Thanks to all the great comments, I hope to continue to please you all. Up next: The boyfriends meet while we catch up to the girls.