"Why haven't you tried calling again?" Chris's rather limited patience was being stretched to the limit. Not being able to do something – anything – was bad enough. But not even knowing what was going on was rapidly pushing him over the edge.

"Our best negotiator is tied up on another situation – some kind of domestic deal. I've been told to back off until we get –"

Chris turned his head. "Josiah, get your ass over here!" He looked back at Morton. "You know Sanchez. He's one of the best profilers you'll ever meet. Let him make the call. No way can your guy be any better."

Morton hesitated for only a moment before handing the phone over. "I don't need to tell you the drill. And for the record, I will catch a dozen kinds of hell if I can't tell the bosses I reminded you that your man is not the only person in there."

Chris glared at the implication, but Josiah shrugged it off. Ezra might be their priority, but every member of the team knew how to do his job, without prejudice. He took the phone and signalled he was ready for the call to be put through. It rang close to twenty times before he heard a gruff "What?" at the other end.

"My name is Josiah Sanchez, and I am hoping –"

"You can call me John. And I don't care what you want, here's what we do. Clear passage. Bus outta here. We have a driver, so don't think you can rig that on us. Plane at the airport, enough fuel for at least 6 hours. And you might as well sweeten the pot. A million bucks."

"Do you need a pilot?"

"What?"

"Will you need a pilot?"

John hesitated. "You're saying we can get all of that?"

"No. But it would be nice to know if one of you has those qualifications. Help us to figure out what is going on. Unless of course you'd like to tell us and make all of this end well."

The thief laughed. "An honest cop! Who would have guessed? We'll get back to you. Call in 15 minutes."

"Wait. Damn – he hung up."

"First impressions?"

Josiah reviewed the conversation before answering. "This isn't his first rodeo, he's too calm about it. Only thing that threw him off was saying he could have what he wanted. But there was something in his tone. A bit of hesitation. Not at all sure what it means at this point."

Morton studied him. "So, what does any of that do for us?"

"So far, not much. But at least we're talking."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

The wastebasket was full of phones and wallets. Surprisingly, no one else was armed, but there were a couple of pocket knives tossed in. Ezra was glad he'd been able to get his ID shoved under a desk, so at least that much of his identity was hidden. His wallet contained nothing that would show him to be an agent. They were thorough enough checking him to make him was glad he didn't have the derringer with him. That could not have been explained away as easily. Besides, it was bad enough to lose one gun. Losing two was unimaginable.

He'd been able to focus enough on the phone call to figure out something wasn't right. The demands made no sense to him. Maybe it was the pounding headache he was developing, made worse by the incessant drilling from the back room, but he was damned if he could sort this all out.

"Listen up ladies and gentlemen. We're going to have a little lottery here. Everybody is going to get a number, and that is going to help me figure out what do to next." John tossed the papers he'd been writing on earlier into a bag. "Pass it around and take one."

The bag passed quietly from hand to hand. Most gave in to basic human curiosity and looked to see what they had drawn. A few didn't seem to care.

"Everybody with a number higher than 9, you'll be moving to the back room. Getting too crowded up here." That move wasn't surprising. It would be harder to launch a rescue attempt if the hostages were divided. Ezra glanced as his paper and sighed to himself with relief. Nine. That was cutting it close. He needed to be out front. The 8 who had the higher numbers stood and made their way back, looking over their shoulders at the rest, no doubt wondering if they would ever see them again. "The rest of you sit tight. We'll be starting the fun soon."

Ezra looked around at the remaining group. He was certain he knew the answer, but asked quietly "Who has number one?"

He wasn't the least bit surprised by the nervous woman who nodded slightly at him. She looked frightened by the admission. "I don't suppose that means I'm going to be the first they release – does it?"

If it would have served any purpose, he would have lied to her in a heartbeat. "No. I am afraid that is unlikely Miss…?"

"Eddington. Sylvia."

He placed his paper on the ground and slid it toward her as unobtrusively as possible. His eyes directed her to do the same. When she hesitated, he whispered. "Trust me." She moved to slide hers when a heavy foot came down to block the transaction.

"Now, now. We put rules out there for a reason. You trying to move yourself up in the rankings friend?"

"I am not your friend." Ezra answered coldly.

John picked up the papers. "So you want to go from nine to one. You really do think you're something special, don't you?" In the hope of being able to get a better read on his subject, Ezra decided his best option was to piss the man off. It was, after all, a skill at which he excelled. When he failed to respond, he was dragged to his feet and shoved against a desk. He felt a stab of pain as his knee made contact with the corner drawers. "Asked you a question!" Remaining silent resulted in being grabbed by the collar and thrown against a wall. The action served only to further irate his knee, and Ezra decided any further defiance would only result in more pain, with no beneficial insights. Accepting the fact that keeping his wits about him was essential, he broke his silence.

"What possible difference does it make what my motivations were?"

John stared for several seconds. "More to you than you're letting on, isn't there? You're not a cop. Least you don't dress like one. No cop can wear thousand-dollar suits and $400 shoes. You on our side of the law?"

"Hardly." Truth be told, the suit had been only about $750, but he saw no benefit in offering the correction.

"Well, you're right. Motive doesn't much matter to me. You just made the worst deal of your life."

"Clearly you don't know me. You are presuming a great deal with that statement."

The crook looked Ezra over thoughtfully. "Seems a shame we're at cross purposes here. I have the feeling you and I might well become friends. Under other circumstance of course."

Ezra snorted softly. "I am far more circumspect in selecting those to whom I would ascribe that description. I can assure you, you would not make the list."

"Not good enough for you?"

"Not even close." His honesty got him another hard slap to the face, opening the cut again. He managed to keep upright, but the spinning in his head worsened instantly. One of these days Standish, you are going to learn to keep your mouth shut. The words were only in his head, but he was eerily certain it was Chris's voice he was hearing.

John shoved him back to the floor. "Sit tight. You'll find out your lottery prize soon enough."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

JD looked up from the laptop when a large shadow cast over it. He reached up and took the offered soft drink. "I can't get a decent shot of these guys on any of the street cameras Buck, and they haven't been able to get me a feed from the bank video yet."

"Stop beating yourself up kid. Wouldn't have helped anybody if you'd been in there with him."

The young agent didn't see it that way. "You don't know that. Two of us in there might have been able to stop this."

"Or might have got both of you and some of the others in there killed."

That thought didn't appease him. "If I hadn't blown it, Ezra wouldn't have been in there when this started."

"And we wouldn't have known about it, and for all we know, this could have gone down a lot worse. You know our boy is in there keeping everyone cool and together."

"More likely putting himself in the middle of things." He rubbed at his eyes, tired from staring at the screen for so long. "What would help is if I could get anything to let us figure out who these guys are. At least then we might have a fighting chance."

"Well, Nathan is looking for cases with similar MO's and Chris is looking into what we can do about the demands. So how can I help you?"

JD shook his head dismissively. "You can't. Nobody can. There's nothing to work with."

"We are not about to let you give up on yourself that easy kid. So I'll ask again, how can I help?"

This time JD smiled tentatively. "By telling me this is all gonna work out ok?"

It took more effort than it should for Buck to put on his broad grin. "Of course it is. Always does, doesn't it?" Seeing the phony confidence wasn't convincing either of them, Buck tried again. "Look JD, no question about it, Ezra can find his way into more kinds of trouble that anyone else I've ever met. But he also has a God-given gift for getting himself out of it. He's like the cat with nine lives."

"Problem with that is I'm pretty sure he long since passed that number."

"Buck, JD. Over here." Chris's call had them both moving quickly.

"What happened?"

Chris was looking toward Nathan, waving him as well. Josiah was close enough to hear, even though he was staying put by the phone, ready to make contact again. Vin had to settle for communicating by headset, having taken up a position on a nearby roof top, ready to take a shot if needed, and praying he wouldn't have to.

"Nothing happened inside – yet. Travis pulled all the strings he can, and is still working on it, but you know giving in on the demands isn't likely to happen."

Not the news they were hoping for, but not even remotely unexpected. "So we just sit out here and hope for the best?"

Chris shook his head. "I take it you haven't found any footage?" The dejected look answered the question. "Relax JD – you can't find what isn't there."

Nathan news was every bit as unsettling. "There is one group I found. They're credited with three bank jobs over the last few years. Stall tactics while clearing out the vault and safety deposit boxes. Hit at midday, locking things up like this job. No concerns about the number hostages." His hesitation told the others there was more. After a moment, he confirmed the fears. "Killed a guard at the first, three hostages at the second and one more on the last job. Different circumstances for each, but every job has had a kill."

"Son of a bitch." Buck didn't like the way the odds had shifted.

Vin had been listening to the conversation. "Haven't we got anything on who they are?"

"Not enough. It's at least a partially different crew each time. First robbery had 4, next 3 and then 4 again. And two of those 4 ended up dead at scene."

That bit of news was the first encouraging thing Chris had heard since this started. "That must have given the cops something to go on."

Nathan shook his head. "Not really. Local hoods. Nothing to indicate they were part of a bigger gang, or even that they knew each other."

"Recruited for the job then. Shit, no help."

Josiah wasn't so sure and was about to say so when the phone rang. He grabbed for is quickly. "Sanchez."

"Have you got what we asked for?"

"Things are being arranged. As I'm sure you can imagine, these matters take time."

"You wouldn't be trying to stall while planning some kind of rescue now, would you Josiah?"

The price on being tripped up was too high, and Josiah using every trick he knew to try to maintain some control of the situation. "We are doing everything we can to get you what you –"

"Now, that is disappointing. I thought we had agreed to be honest with each other. Here, let me start by sharing a bit of information. The hostages have been split into groups, so if you are thinking of a strike force, it won't work. Not a chance in hell you can get to them all in time. Or any of them."

That wasn't surprising. Nathan had shown him the summary on the other robberies, and that move had been part of all of them. "I'm doing what I can. It takes time."

"You figure out who we are?" John teased at him.

"Not precisely. We do know this isn't your first job."

"Very good."

"If any of those people get hurt, I can promise you it will be your last."

John wasn't as amused by the turn.

"Thirty minutes. If you need more time after that, it will come at a cost. A high cost. And in case you don't think I'm serious…" the sound of a gunshot was the last thing he heard before the phone went dead.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

tbc