PART SIX

-Monday, Late afternoon-

Ray blurted out the first thing that came to his mind after Ezra finished talking. "Jesus, no wonder you guys have the track record you do – shit just falls into your lap." He caught an admonishing look from his boss and flashed back an apologetic wince.

The small conference room adjacent to Chris's office once again held twelve federal agents. This time it was for the debriefing of Ezra's meeting with the Vargas camp.

The southerner leaned back in his chair and responded to the comment. "I know I should try to claim some credit for this but…swear by lightning, it was nothin' more than a stroke of pure good fortune."

Josiah raised his brows. " 'Cept for the fella who died."

Seated at the head of the table, Chris addressed Ezra. "This is pretty convenient. You're sure this isn't any kind of game or set-up?"

"God's truth, Mr. Larabee—Vargas was shocked. I exaggerated no details. One of his men walked up to the table, whispered somethin' to him and the next thing I know he's lookin' none too happy and swearin' in Dutch. Then he asks if I happen to know any good, trustworthy hackers because his apparently died last night of an Ecstasy overdose.

"I'm sure he wasn't askin' me seriously but, truth to tell, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. So that's when I said, 'as a matter of fact, I do.'"

"Who you got in mind?" Vin asked.

"I've no idea," Ezra answered. "But I figured between our three agencies we should be able to come up with somebody who fits the bill."

Chris looked at Agent Desmon. "You guys have anyone?"

Tyler consulted with his men. "Robert Plares?"

Beside him, James Cheski shook his head. "He and his wife just had their first baby; he won't be back for at least two or three more weeks. What about that weird guy with the crew cut? Jay-somebody."

Ray looked puzzled. "Jason Barrington?"

"Yeah."

"No, he's locked into the Sundial Operation."

Buck tossed out a suggestion for ATF personnel. "There's that girl downstairs, Barbara."

"Barbara the Beast?" blurted Ezra. "As a hacker? Dear Lord, Buck, I'd rather try to pass off Mr. Rodgers with an Etch-a-Sketch."

"Mr. Rodgers is dead."

"My point exactly. We need someone good. This man was on Vargas's payroll. Not only was he in charge of Ian's off-shore bank accounts, but he handled things like electronic launderin' and, shall we say, 'discreet' wire transfers."

"How much time do we have?" asked Chris.

Tyler shook his head as he answered. "We're already under the gun. I got a call from the Coast Guard this morning—the Empress Phoenix hit the Texas coast today." He glanced at his watch. "Probably already docked. The Coasties said they might be able to hold them up in port with inspections. But even with that and whatever ground transport Vargas has arranged, that's still only an absolute max of about a day and a half."

JD whistled. "That's quick."

Rafael nodded. "It is how Vargas operates. He runs fast, with very small crews. It is what has made him so hard to catch. He's on his way out of town while we Federales are still trying to get search warrants signed."

"It was a good idea, Ezra," Nathan said, "but I don't see how we can pull it off in the amount of time we have."

Ezra stared at them. "I think ya'll are missin' the significance of this opportunity. Agent Desmon's team already has Mr. Simpson's ersatz bank account set up." He tapped the cell phone on the table in front of him. "I have the routing numbers. And most importantly, Ian's recently departed tweak-freak was one of the key parts of Arthur's plan to steal this deal money. Need I remind you-"

JD realized what Ezra was saying. "Electronic bank account transfer. Arthur is planning on stealing the money you're supposed to wire into Vargas's account, so he must have had the hack in on it too."

"Exactly."

The youth's eyes widened with understanding. "Getting somebody in there in place of him would be jackpot for the Fibbies!" He immediately bit his tongue at using the unkind slang in front of "mixed company" and corrected himself, "uh… FBI. I mean, you could get access to accounts, financial records—some great ammunition to go into court with." His words tumbled out. "Oh! And because the hack had access to Vargas's accounts that means Pentilide would need that same person to wire the money into his own account for the steal—you'd have stuff on him too."

Nathan shook his head. "We'd still have to find somebody, never mind ramp-up time."

Marco's quiet voice cut in to the conversation. "JD can do it."

" 'Scuse me?" Buck replied sharply.

"Me?"

"That might just be an idea," Chris said. He noticed the youth still had a surprised look on his face. "JD, the Bureau doesn't send you to those tech seminars just so you can skip work."

Buck interjected with a wave of his hands. "Whoa, whoa, now hold up a minute there, Chris. JD does behind the scenes. In the van, remember? We can just get somebody else."

JD shot a hard look at his friend. "Who, Buck? You? You had trouble with the voice mail system here." He glanced around at the rest of his team. "I had to set it up for him. He had like, ten messages of himself recording his own greeting."

Buck ignored the criticism. "Nate knows computers. You and him talk shop all the time. He-"

Nathan interrupted. "-ain't near as good as JD."

Irritated by Buck's mother hen tendencies and his seeming lack of faith in his abilities as an agent, JD retorted bluntly to his roommate's comments. "Thanks for the fuckin' vote of confidence, there, Buck."

"Gentlemen." Chris's icy tone secured everyone's attention. His men immediately knew what he was really saying. It was neither the time nor the place for bullshit squabbling. They could all but hear their leader's thoughts: We do not air our laundry in front of others.

"Thank you for your input," Chris said. "Agent Desmon and I will get back with you once we make a final decision." He looked at Ezra. "I assume Vargas is going to want to 'get a feel' for whoever you come up with?"

The undercover man nodded. "I told him I'd give him a call tonight after I coordinated things with the person I had in mind."

Raphael spoke up. "Then you can expect he'll want to meet for lunch tomorrow."

"Divine," Ezra drawled.

Vin looked to Chris. "I.A. lettin' you in on anything about Dumb and Dumber?"

The team leader ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. "That's a whole other can of something we could do without right now. Seems Detectives Dorison and Hilliard have disappeared."

A worried look passed over Ezra's face. "I'm sorry… Exactly what do you mean by disappeared?"

Chris understood that his agent interpreted "disappeared" for "dead" and clarified the Denver PD's Internal Affairs' assumption. "As in gone to ground. Apartments empty, bank accounts closed. As soon as this deal goes down it looks like they're ready to make for those Cayman Islands that Dorison mentioned to Ezra.

"There's no record of either of them ever applying for a passport but, considering they're cops it's a given they know somebody who could get them fake ones." He looked at Ezra. "Any idea how they figure into all this?"

"None. Arthur has been less than forthcoming. Supposedly, it's nothin' I'd even notice. I'm to conduct business as usual and go on my way."

Nathan leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "There's no physical cash to take, why does Arthur need them?"

Josiah glanced at his teammate. "Maybe he doesn't. Think about it, Ezra said Dorison told him that Arthur had been looking for a huge fish for awhile. But when ol' Arty got busted by Dumb and Dumber, I'll bet he cut them in on his idea so as to keep himself outta trouble. I doubt Vargas would take kindly to one of his top dogs getting arrested."

"Hell," Buck said. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's been slipping them a little cash in the meantime to keep 'em from stirring up trouble."

Vin nodded. "Ez is about to give Artie's boss a shitload of money and that little weasel is plannin' on funnelin' it to his own account. He can probably afford to part with some of it if it means he stays a free man. Them cops ain't gotta do nothin' but keep their mouths shut and disappear afterwards."

Chris caught Ezra's eye. "Just the same, talk to Arthur, see if you can make sure that," he paused before using his men's phrase, "Dumb and Dumber don't have any plans like yesterday morning."

"Oh, I'm sure after I tell Ian I have a replacement computer geek for him, I'll be hearin' from Arthur on the QT lookin' to borrow said hack."

Chris nodded. "All right, unless anybody has anything else…" The rest of the agents exchanged looks but seemed satisfied. "Agent Desmon, could I get a minute of your time?"

The others let Tyler and Chris lead the way from the room before attending to their own duties.

Josiah took his time leaving the conference room, curious to see the actions and emotional reactions of some of his teammates. He stood in the doorway, pretending to read a file as he watched JD head to his desk without acknowledging Buck. It didn't surprise the profiler when Buck followed on the boy's heels and pinned him down for what appeared to be a "brotherly" conversation. He watched the body language and could imagine the discussion.

JD dropped into his chair and slapped at his keyboard to wake up his computer. A pair of large hands settled on the edge of his desk as Buck leaned forward and whispered sharply.

"Damn it, kid, don't go gettin' all pissed off and pouty now."

A pair of hazel eyes flashed up at him. "Pouty?" JD answered in a low tone. "What is it with you? I ain't twelve, Buck. I'm just as much a member of this team as anybody else. I earned this spot! You don't pull that mother hen crap on anybody else. I don't see you telling everybody that Ezra isn't good enough to meet with Vargas."

Buck's expression changed instantly and his shoulders slumped. "You think…?" He exhaled heavily. "Aw hell, that's not what I meant at all. What I said in there… all I meant was…."

"What?" JD seemed to be waiting for the reasoning behind Buck's apparent lack of faith.

"I meant I don't want to see you meeting with Vargas. You read through those files Chris gave us. Hell, even Josiah said the man fits the technical profile of a psychopath." Buck shifted closer, lowering his voice even more as the two agents continued their attempt at a private conversation while in the middle of the Team Seven bullpen. "Now, I'd fight anybody who said you didn't earn your spot on this team; I'd even fight you if there was something that might take you off it. But…" He frowned, dropping his gaze.

"Look, Ezra has a helluva lot more u.c. hours than any of us. Shoot, the man is probably gonna talk the Devil himself into escorting him up to the Pearly Gates. But don't tell me you ain't seen that even he's seemed a little cattywampus since this whole case started?"

JD glanced over to where the southerner stood in conversation with Vin and nodded.

"Look, kid, I'm sorry I shot my mouth off in front of all them, but it don't change how I feel. I know you'd be the best man for this job, but it don't mean I have to like it. Now, are we good?" He grinned and held his fist out, waiting for JD to bump his knuckles.

The younger agent's mouth was tight and Buck couldn't tell if it was tension or simply JD biting back a retort. JD sighed and shook his head and Buck was about to add a second layer to his apology when a smile forced its way through his friend's terse expression and the kid raised his fist to comply.

Josiah's attention was divided between watching Buck rectify things with JD, and Vin subtly corner Ezra.

"Hey Ez… so you reckon Vargas is gonna be okay with you bringin' JD to the party? I mean, folks in his line of work don't usually trust real easy."

"I believe he'll go for it. When you're about to have 2,000 automatic weapons dropped on your doorstep and the man who is goin' to buy them from you offers you a suggestion, it's not considered too imprudent to throw caution to the wind just once."

Vin nodded and phrased his next question purposefully. "And you think he felt you out okay?"

Ezra reflexively winced. "Please don't say it like that."

The Texan now knew the assumption he'd made after hearing Rafael's comment at the Saloon was correct. "But he trusts ya?"

"Yes. Or so say my instincts."

"Well, I trust those." Vin studied his friend. "You look a might tired. We keep you out drinkin' too late last night?"

Ezra suddenly seemed to realize what Vin was really trying to find out. He was touched that someone may have noticed the underlying current of uneasiness that had been plaguing him. However, it unnerved him as well. Had he become that transparent? In his line of work he knew that could be fatal.

His meeting with Vargas that afternoon had left him feeling like a rookie. The man made his skin crawl. Nothing he could pinpoint, nothing specific, just little things. Holding a handshake a bit too long. Gazing and smiling coolly like a reptile.

During lunch a few drops of Ian's Bloody Mary fell onto a stainless steel serving tray and, for a brief second, memories of autopsy photos flashed into Ezra's mind. A body lying on a metal examining table, electrical burns visible on the sections of skin that hadn't been expertly peeled off. He had forced himself to smile and focus back on their lunchtime conversation. Now he hoped Vargas had not picked up on his unease.

"I'm fine." He knew his response to Vin sounded hollow.

The Texan nodded and, as he had the previous night, offered a comforting presence. "Travers is waitin' in the wings, if ya need him."

Ezra shook his head. "Josiah's interpretation of Vargas was accurate. If I bring in someone whom he perceives as a show of force, he's goin' to take it as a threat or a challenge. We need to keep him thinkin' he's in control."

"Shoot, pard, you can do that," Vin said with a smile. "You always got Chris thinkin' you're gonna do what he says." He lightly slapped his friend on the arm and drifted back to his desk.

Ezra couldn't prevent the grin that cropped up. He watched Vin for a moment before heading to JD's work station.

Josiah finally pushed away from the conference room doorway and figured he'd grab a late lunch. He hadn't been able to hear the conversations of his friends but their body language told him all he needed to know. There was balance. That's all that mattered.

…

-Monday, evening-

Two light raps on the doorframe of Chris's office caused the team leader to look up from his computer monitor. Ezra stood in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his dress pants and his shoulders hunched in an introverted way. Chris wasn't surprised to see the southerner still in the office after standard working hours. He was usually late to arrive in the morning but he just as frequently stayed past anyone else.

The undercover agent truly enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere that settled on the Federal Building when its occupants consisted mostly of cleaning crews and security people. Tonight, however, the look on Ezra's face indicated there was something specific on his mind.

Chris leaned away from his keyboard. "What's up?"

Not moving from his spot, Ezra replied, "In regards to the debriefing this afternoon, I was hopin' to give my two-cents, so to speak."

Chris reclined in his high-backed leather chair and, with a motion of his hand, directed Ezra toward one of the other office chairs. "What's on your mind?"

The southerner sat and folded his legs, resting his right ankle across his left knee. He spent a few seconds adjusting the cuffs of his white shirt and picking away unseen lint. Chris noticed the hesitation maneuvers and waited.

Finally Ezra spoke, albeit hesitantly. "I am… in a bit of a dilemma." He kept his focus downward, working at the sharp crease in the right thigh of his black dress pants. "Ian Vargas is a smart… sick son of a bitch." His eyes finally rose to meet Chris's gaze. "And I believe it would be easier to manipulate him if he were… not wholly focused on his game."

Chris raised an eyebrow as he interpreted the statement. "Distracted?"

"Yes." Ezra paused before he continued, as if he was trying to find the right words. "It has always been well-rumored that Vargas has, what may be described as an… interest in…younger men. Which leads me to my double-edged sword."

As he spoke, his fingertips never stopped working at the pant leg crease of his thin wool trousers. "JD is quite capable of handlin' this assignment. He is highly intelligent and exceptionally talented in his field… He fits the role perfectly." He ran the tip of his tongue quickly along his lower lip. "However, he is also a very good lookin' young man, and… because of this I am hesitant to recommend him." The southerner's mouth curved with a wry twist. "I am concerned our boy fits the role too perfectly." Ezra paused, looking for guidance.

"You haven't talked to him?" It was more of a statement than a question.

A small dry laugh escaped Ezra's lips. "Besides the fact that I didn't believe it was my place… I wasn't sure how to broach the subject without usin' the term 'jail bait.'" He pushed a quick hand through his hair as Chris replied.

"What is it you're always saying he's got?"

They answered at the same time, each with a grin. "Youthful exuberance."

Chris continued. "I think because of that we all have a tendency to forget his background. JD was how many years a Boston street cop? And he ranked in the top for testing, marksmanship and physical courses for both BPD and ATF."

"Don't misunderstand me," the southerner inserted quickly. "It's not his abilities I'm concerned about."

"I know what you're getting at, Ez. He's not a rookie. I trust you both. Tyler's okay with him going in." Chris fixed his agent with a steady gaze. "If you think JD can handle it, it should be his decision."

Ezra couldn't help but smile. "That's not what Buck would say."

Chris returned the grin. "Yeah, well, just think of that as motivation to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"Oh, thank you," drawled the southerner. Rising from his chair, he seemed to bear less weight on his shoulders than he had when he entered the team leader's office.

"You still have to contact Vargas tonight, right? I'll call over to the CDC now and talk to him."

Ezra knew Chris meant the youngest member of their team, but he flashed a wily smile, nonetheless. "Which? Buck or JD?"

The expression was shot right back at him. "Sorry, Standish, if anything goes south, you're on your own with Buck."

A soft dramatic sigh accompanied a dejected shaking of the head. "Thrown to the wolves again."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Chris said with a grin. "Josiah's always said he thought you were raised by 'em."

Ezra raised his brows. "I'll be sure to tell my mother of his assumptions."

"You can probably get a lunch out of him if you tell him you won't."

Ezra smiled before nodding a "thank you" for the advice. He paused in the doorway and it was obvious to Chris that his agent dwelled on something more.

"What?" he prompted.

When Ezra finally glanced up, his eyes conveyed a deep mix of emotions. Chris knew he was witnessing a rare, unguarded moment. Ezra spoke softly, if not a shade tentatively, but his answer was succinct.

"I hate this."

Chris knew what the southerner meant. Ezra felt like he would be using JD. Once upon a time in Ezra's history, he wouldn't have given a whit about such things. If you worked law enforcement, you dealt with a lot of shit and if you couldn't handle it, you had no business doing the job. However, Maude Standish's boy had changed quite a lot since moving to Denver.

The team he worked with had become his family. They'd put their trust in him time and time again, and slowly, Ezra had learned to let down his carefully constructed wall and trust them as well. Unconditional friendship was not something he had often experienced while growing up, nor come across much in his professional career. Until Denver. And now he was burdened with the feeling that he would be using one of his friends; it did not sit well with him.

Chris met Ezra's eyes. "We'll be there."

The southerner seemed grateful for all that was meant in that three word statement and nodded before leaving.