The woman in Chris' office recognized Buck Wilmington by the lazy way he walked, thumb hooked in his belt. His face had changed over the years and not for the worse. Gone was the smooth skin and rounded cheeks of the twenty three year old she had last seen, his face now all hard planes with a strong, firm jaw. He was even more handsome, sexier now, with a mustache and a few days' growth of beard on his guileless face. His thick hair was still a deep, rich brown, worn shorter now but still in need of a cut. Only his eyes were the same after all the years - dark blue and deeply haunted.
The other men who made up Denver's Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives Team Seven all looked toward Buck when he finally came into the room and sat down, their eyes questioning. He was suddenly different to them and their concern and confusion showed. The DEA agent knew that the ATF Special agent had recognized her and the shock of it had changed his demeanor, from the man his teammates knew and were comfortable with, to a somber stranger they didn't quite know how to handle. Wilmington's outgoing personality, always a major player in any venue, was now subdued and the room was suspiciously quiet. No slams, no filthy jokes or roughhousing, standard operating procedure in most Team Seven meetings - even with a female present.
Chris Larabee stood at the head of the table, his mouth a grim line. The dynamics of his team had suddenly changed and he didn't have a clue as to why, nor had he any idea why the sight of Buck had left the DEA agent's face pale and her hands trembling. Larabee quickly offered her a chair and she sat and began to go through her files keeping her eyes glued to the pages all the while.
Why hadn't she bothered to get information on the other five men who made up Team Seven? She had only requested jackets on the team leader and the licensed pilot, Josiah Sanchez. Of course she would have recognized Buck's name immediately and would have been more prepared - if one could really be prepared for meeting a former husband for the first time in over twenty years. Deciding to not beat herself up on the fact she would simply gather her wits about her and conduct her meeting. The sooner the op was done, the sooner she could be on her way back to Miami.
"Gentlemen." Chris' voice was like a shot through the silence of the room and even the SAC was a little startled, "This is Special Agent in Charge Carolyn Sims."
The woman, dressed in black slacks, a white blouse and black suit jacket, complete with regulation bad ass aviator shades in the breast pocket, nodded to most of the group but avoided looking directly at Buck and suddenly he couldn't take his eyes off of her. He realized by her demeanor that she hadn't known that he would be there either and if the pain of her memories equaled his all he wanted to do was to hold her close and protect her from the past. But Buck had blown his chance to protect and comfort her when she had needed him the most and he doubted very much that she would even let him get close enough to talk to her let alone to take her in his arms. Besides, what would he say? What could he ever say to make it right?
Sims was her maiden name and he was surprised that she still used it. After he left Florida he hadn't heard whether she had married her partner or not. The fear of his wife marrying his best friend and the pain it might cause him put his morbid curiosity in check and he had, instead, put as many guilty miles and years between them as he could. In fact, he'd never heard another word about her but his cowardice had worked to a fault. It had kept him totally in the dark about her job as a Special Agent out of the Miami office of the DEA and about her trip to Colorado.
Buck continued to listen, barely, as Chris went on. "We've been asked by DEA to facilitate in the hijacking, as it were, of a jet purported to be loaded with hundreds of kilos of Mexican heroin," he said and promptly turned the meeting over to SAC Sims.
"That's right, gentlemen, but this plane is not just filled with heroin. It's loaded to the flight attendant call lights with pure unadulterated Black Tar heroin, otherwise known as Pigment, Piedra Negro, Chiva, nut job, capital B, Black Clown and, my personal favorite, Cheesums. As you probably already know, Mexican drug smugglers are peddling this form of ultra-potent shit for as little as a dime a G-pack and it's so pure that it kills unsuspecting users so fast that the needle's usually still stuck in their arms when we find 'em."
Agent Sims stopped to take a breath and a sip of coffee before she continued.
"The target aircraft, a Learjet 60, is a two pilot, ten-passenger business class jet with a range of 2,409 nautical miles. The interior has been gutted to make room for as much product as possible and this pig is so weighted down that it can only make it to Colorado before having to refule." She quickly looked over her audience to see if she'd lost anyone and found that all but one person's eyes were either on her or perusing the files she'd handed out. Under the circumstance it was understandable. "They'll need to refuel in some small out of the way airstrip close to an aviation fuel supply. It's usually a cash deal but, in this instance, we know the seller wants product instead."
Again she stopped to let the pertinent details sink in.
"When the jet lands and is refueled, the cartel's courier will hand over the agreed upon amount of product and, when and if, the transaction's completed to his satisfaction, he'll then give the pilots the final destination. They'll fly him on to an airstrip we're pretty sure is in the Florida swamps where they'll unload the shipment, the courier will pick up his payment and return to Mexico. In a few weeks they'll do it all over again but with different routes and destinations. To even put a dent in this operation, we need to waylay this jet here in Colorado, find out the exact location of the final drop and get the bird back in the air ASAP to make the final rendezvous where my guys will make the bust. That's where you come in agent Sanchez."
"Josiah, please," the big man insisted with a smile then added reading through the jet specifications, "I've always wanted to fly one of these babies."
"In addition to myself, I'll need one other agent on board the jet. I'll leave that assignment up to Agent Larabee and, as soon as our CI within the cartel relays more information, I'll let you know the specifics on the landing strip and the ETA."
Carrie Sims finished up with a sideways glance at Buck, who looked longing at the door, and ended the briefing.