2. A New Force
Denver, 2006
We walk the narrow path,
beneath the smoking skies.
Sometimes you can barely tell the difference
between darkness and light.
Do we have faith, in what we believe?
The truest test is when we cannot, when we cannot see.
I hear the pounding feet in the streets below, and the,
And the women cry and the,
And the children know that there,
That there's something wrong,
And it's hard to believe that
Love will prevail.
Oh it won't rain all the time.
The sky won't fall forever.
And though the night seems long,
Your tears won't fall forever.
Oh, when I'm lonely, I lie awake at night and I wish you were here.
I miss you. Can you tell me is there something more to believe in?
Or is this all there is?
And the pounding feet, in the,
In the streets below, and the,
And the window breaks and,
And a woman falls, there's,
There's something wrong, it's,
It's so hard to believe that love will prevail.
Oh it won't rain all the time.
The sky won't fall forever.
And though the night seems long,
Your tears won't fall, your tears won't fall, your tears won't fall
Forever.
Last night I had a dream.
You came into my room, you took me into your arms.
Whispering and kissing me, and telling me to still believe.
The very emptiness of the burning seas against which we sail our darkest desires...
Until I felt safe and warm.
I fell asleep in your arms.
When I awoke I cried again for you were gone.
Oh, can you hear me?
It won't rain all the time.
The sky won't fall forever.
And though the night seems long,
Your tears won't fall forever.
It won't rain all the time
The sky won't fall forever.
And though the night seems long,
Your tears won't fall, your tears won't fall, your tears won't fall
Forever.
Jane Siberry, It Can't Rain All The Time, (Crow Soundtrack)
Chris Larabee glanced at the files strewn across his desk. Every one of them profiled a man considered a suitable recruit for his specialised team of agents, yet none of the photo's or words or lists of achievements had convinced him that any of them were right for the job. He was a man with a wealth of experience, joining the Army with his oldest friend Buck Wilmington where they had both entered into the Special Forces. They had joined the army for adventure and had certainly had their share of action, but had both discovered that, although they loved the nature of their work, they both wanted more than the disciplined lifestyle it required.
With the skills and training that had shaped them into fast thinking and acting men, they had joined the US Marshals office and fast become the best in their field. For years they enjoyed the fast paced lifestyle that their jobs afforded and eventually Chris accepted a position in Chicago to head up his own Special Operations Group, with Buck only too happy to serve under his friend. He had no ambitions to lead men, he simply loved the challenge and the excitement of it all.
Chris's wedding had been one of the happiest days of Buck's life, second only to the day he had become an
honorary uncle to a gorgeous boy named Adam. Life was fantastic, they continued at the top of their field and spent wonderful days watching Adam grow into a happy child.
Then it had all gone to hell. Chris's wife and child were killed in a devastating fire one weekend when they were out of town. They had stayed an extra night after transporting a prisoner interstate, to unwind and relax, only to receive the devastating news over a phone call in the early hours of the morning. Nothing had ever been close to the same since.
Chris had taken six weeks of annual leave owed to him and Buck had watched him slowly sink into a deep
depression over that time, despite his continual effort to help. When Chris had eventually returned to work, it was only to discover that he was in no state whatsoever to deal with the constant pressure and demands of his job. He'd left his position shortly after – and then he'd left everything, including Buck, who had tried with all his heart to bring his friend back from the grief that had consumed him. They had parted ways with short words left to settle over time.
Buck wasn't angry, only sad for his friend, devastated for his loss and for his own as well. He had loved Sarah and Adam like they were his own family, but there was nothing more that he could do for his friend. It was over a year later when he heard from him again.
Chris had been contacted by a former Army Captain, Wilson Benning, who was now heading up a new Denver Division of the ATF under the guidance of ATF Director, Orin Travis. The two were close friends. Benning had had a hard time tracking Larabee down and had eventually only discovered him when his name had cropped up in relation to a drunk and disorderly charge in Indiana.
Chris remembered the day Benning had shown up out of nowhere at the bar he had come to know as a second home. There had been no disapproval there, he was not a man to judge others, there was only a grim determination in his weathered face. He should have known then that his life was about to change – and it had, slowly.
Across the country task forces and specialist teams were being put together and given greater resources in
response to the growing numbers of members of biker gangs throughout the land, who's network of crime was reaching alarming proportions. Benning had convinced Travis that Larabee was the best man to head up his Special Division within the ATF based in Denver, to deal not only with this problem, but to work with other divisions on cases that crossed over into the ATF's domain in other areas.
There was a darker side to the city that few ever saw and those who did, chose to steer well clear. On the outer reaches of town sat an area that locales referred to as Purgatorio, where thieves and gangs and drug dealers ruled the streets and had grown in numbers until they had taken over what was in itself a seedy town with its own economy. It was Travis's intention to have a new team begin with an investigation into this area, working with the much respected head of the Denver DEA, Douglas Murphy, to do their best at cleaning it up and gathering information about the activities that went on there.
It had taken long days of hard convincing, with Benning never giving up on the man he had believed in since the day he had joined his team years before, but finally he and Travis together had hounded the soul weary man until he had agreed. Benning's word that Larabee was the man for the job was all the assurance Travis needed to commit to the recruitment effort. If Benning wanted him, he had good reason. He knew Chris's background, knew what held the man back – and he used it against him to get his way. He brought in Murphy from the DEA to tell the hardened leader about the chapter president of the outlaw motorcycle gang that was currently residing in a fortress-like headquarters a few hours out of the city.
Murphy pulled no punches when he told him of the many stories of the gang that called themselves the `Devil's Jokers'. Some were considered urban myths, but many were based on fact, involving hard crimes and acts of terrorism that the gang and its leader had committed all over the country. He showed photos of young women thought to have been kidnapped by the gang over the years, although no reports had ever been confirmed. Then he'd finished with the one story that he knew would hit home; the one story he knew for a fact was true, because he had been one of the first police officers to arrive at the scene of the crime nearly twenty two years before.
He spoke about how the Jokers' current Denver chapter president had gang raped and then murdered his own woman back in Texas years before, slitting her throat from ear to ear. Murphy told of how he had left the state himself not long after, but had taken with him the images of the woman with the slit throat; and the memory of an innocent little boy who'd seen his own mother killed, only five years old at the time.
Now two decades later, that outlaw's deeds had earned him the respect of the many men that joined the gang's ranks each year so that he was now voted a leader. Larabee's jaw had clenched at this news. With his son's death still all too fresh in his heart in was impossible to remain impassive. It was inconceivable that men like that were able to get away with their crimes. Still, it had been a long deliberation before he had finally accepted the terms of the position and agreed on a six week time period to put together his men.
Buck had been an easy choice and to his relief, his old friend had held no grudge against him when he had called him with the offer. He had picked up and moved to join him in Denver in less than a week and Chris had to admit, he was damn happy to see his old friend. Life would never be the same after his family's death, but it was marginally better than it had been in a long while.
Nathan Jackson and Josiah Sanchez were men they knew from their Army days. Benning had given Chris a list of potential recruits and he had looked each over with infinite care. He remembered both of the men well and knew they would be perfect for the team. They had both also been living in Denver and so knew the area well. They were specially trained in combat and both highly educated men. Nathan's medical training and Josiah's explosives expertise were also great skills and something he knew the team would benefit from.
Three men short, the fledgling team had worked together to find their remaining men. Ezra Standish might have seemed a strange choice to some, but Chris Larabee had known instantly that he was a man with rare skills. The FBI Agent was a former Intelligence Operative and had been working on becoming an associate of the Joker gang for six months and as such, would play a very important part in the team. He had a long list of achievements in his wake, with a reputation of digging up the dirt on even the most deeply burrowed criminals. It was what the files didn't say, however, that had earned Ezra a reputation as a man not to be trusted, even within his own team. There were whispers of him making deals that went beyond the limit of the law, but from what Chris could see, they were merely whispers.
What few knew about Ezra P. Standish, was that he was a rich man in his own right and a shrewd businessman by nature. His mother owned several restaurants and hotels throughout the country, having little to do with their operations, but overseeing their growth and profit with an eagle eye, often from her homes abroad. No one that worked for them had any idea that the rich man that sometimes came to dine or visit, was in fact the owner's son. Mr `Stetson' was merely a rich entrepreneur to be treated very, very respectably. His mother understood little about him, he felt, but she knew his identity must be kept hidden in his line of work.
Two months prior to taking the position with the new ATF team, Ezra had gone undercover as the co-manager of one of the largest entertainment venues in the city. The upmarket, multistory complex had everything from a wine bar to a nightclub with a VIP room on the upper level. The massive complex was a playground for drugs and money to change hands and Ezra Standish was watching it all happen, grounding himself deeper and deeper in an attempt to understand how the whole trade worked, from the ground up. With his keen mind for business, he had fast become an asset to the owner and fellow manager, an older man by the name of Mitri Vlahov. Mitri had contacted the FBI himself many months prior to Ezra joining him, wanting to put an end to the club's use of his facility as it's distribution point. He had welcomed the undercover agent and done his best to ingrain him in the business and had been pleasantly surprised when Ezra had actually had some brilliant ideas to improve his profits and efficiency, which he had gladly supplied.
One might wonder why a man of Standish's means would bother keeping a regular day job, but the truth was, he was damn good at what he did and it was more important to him than anything else in his life. It gave him purpose where nothing else had… and then there was the fact that he had a personal debt to settle with the Jokers, one that he would see through to the very end, whatever way it went…
When Chris had discovered that the FBI were debating whether to pull Standish out for another case requiring more resources, he had moved in. Meetings with the Southerner had revealed he had not known there was talk of ending his operation and he was most willing to continue with his current assignment, however he could make that happen. The case had become the ATF's and Standish a part of Team Seven within two weeks.
Truth be known, Ezra had liked the four men he had met right off the bat, although they had no clue of that. His face betrayed nothing of his thoughts. He was not hostile, he was merely aloof, yet it was plain to see that within his intelligent green eyes lay a cunning mind. He'd worked hard to integrate himself with Vlahov and was grateful to Larabee for the opportunity to continue on his quest. He also thought that these men didn't look like they would allow procedures and red tape to get in the way of seeing justice done and that was something he valued dearly.
Next had come JD Dunne, communications expert and computer analyst with the ATF. JD had been recruited by the government right out of college for his highly accelerated skills in computing and electronics. The only problem they did not foresee was Dunne's love for action. Working in a closed lab surrounded by four walls was not what the young agent had in mind at all. He wanted to be out in the field, yet was constantly turned down in his applications to transfer departments… Until Chris Larabee got hold of his records. The kid was brilliant, naïve but brilliant and he had asked him to meet with him and his team. Dunne was out of his league with the calibre of experience in the room when he met the rest of the team, but he had his own area of expertise that the team lacked. They all liked the kid and after a few hours of watching him drive Buck crazy, Chris knew he would fit right in.
That brought him to the present, with a search for a final member of the team. They had all agreed that a man with sharpshooter skills was needed to fulfill the final position. Larabee knew that every man staring back at him from his desk was qualified to do the job, yet he was a perfectionist. He wanted more than just qualified. This team was going to require dedication and talent and it was going to demand a commitment beyond the normal standard. His gut instinct was telling him the man he needed was not in those files.
His six weeks were nearly up and already they had made headway in their research into the local outlaw gang, but he would rather wait longer than bring aboard the wrong person.
They had met with one former police marksman, but had quickly dismissed him from consideration. The man had been so by the book as to be scary. It was as if he was born and raised in the police force and had studied his manual back to front. He was not a man that thought outside the box and Chris would settle for nothing less.
As he shoved the stack of files to the side of his desk, he hoped it would not be long before the right person
presented himself. Tonight he and Buck would be paying Ezra's club a visit, otherwise known as `DV8 City'. Ezra had gotten Nathan a job managing the VIP bar a few days before and they were going to look around and get a feel for the place. Nathan had worked in many bars when he had studied at college and was very much at ease running one, although he had never worked in one of that magnitude before and not one that was known to be a virtual highway of drug trading.
What Chris had learned so far, was that not all of the men in this club wore `colours', meaning the trademark leather vests and denim with various patches of their club presented for identification. In the modern world, most outlaw gangs had come very far. It was thought that for every one member that wore the colours of the gang, there were at least ten associates working for the club that worked in all facets of everyday life and the business world. They had contacts in important places, informants that would do their bidding and pass on as much information as they could. The club financed the educations of students of law, medicine, and in other useful occupations that could benefit their organization.
One major downside to being part of the organization was that leaving was not easy and if you should act outside the interests of the club, punishment was usually swift and harsh. Of course, much of the information that the feds had handed over was based on estimations and a little too much guess work for Chris's liking. He would have liked to have a lot more to work on, but he figured that was why he had been brought in, to find out more. At this point, he would assume nothing, but all the same, he would be proceeding with extreme caution. He was a man that always put his team first, and he never asked them to do anything that he
himself would not. That is why he chose his men so carefully, for having said that, there were certain things he would expect from them, and certain things that many men would not do.
So far he had found that The Devil's Jokers were a club that seemed typical of the modern world. They were a well organised and well oiled institution, with documented laws which governed the actions of all members and associate members. There was a hierarchy within the ranks that saw that no man acted outside the interests of the club. Beatings and murders were not uncommon within their own circle and everybody had their job to do. They had been under observation for many years, with their movements being well tracked, yet this information was still limited, for the everyday workings of the club were closed to all outside forces.
Chris was lost in his thoughts, contemplating the files on his desk, when there was a knock at his door and he looked up to see Benning and Murphy waiting to enter, umbrella's still wet in their hands. He stood to greet them.
"Chris," Benning said.
"Will, what brings you up here?" He asked of the man who had become a good friend over the years. He nodded to the other man he had only known for a few months, but had found he liked. "Doug."
Wilson held out a folder in his hand. "Thought you might want to take a look at this."
They moved in and took seats at the desk as Chris opened the manila folder.
"Still raining much?" he asked as he looked at the dossier inside. He wasn't one for idle chatter, he simply hadn't had a chance to get outside for hours and was curious as to whether it was letting up.
"Hasn't stopped. Looks like its gonna get worse," Benning answered as Chris studied the file in silence.
The minutes stretched out before the new ATF Captain gave a low, soft whistle. "This guys' here, now?" he asked, glancing up to see a slightly smug smile on Benning's face, but Murphy shook his head.
"He's on a weeks leave, he'll be here next week."
He looked at the DEA leader as Benning cut in. "This is a highly classified exchange, only Murphy knew until today, when he told me – and now you."
Chris frowned a little as he read the information. "Former Marine… Sniper… Special Operations, NTF…" he looked up again, "he was undercover for a whole year?"
Murphy nodded. "Down in Texas and Mexico. They pumped up the task force along the border with the rise in methamphetamines and weapons coming in. Tanner volunteered to go in and infiltrate the group, which so
happened to be a chapter of the Jokers."
Chris's face was a little troubled by that. One didn't just go in and 'infiltrate' a club like that, he would have had to have contacts already. That alone, told him something about the man - not much, but enough to know that he'd kept company with bikers long before he'd become one undercover.
Benning took up the story. "According to Jake Walters, head of the NTF in Texas, they pulled him out when an operation went wrong. It was mostly Tanner's deal and when a local DEA rookie jumped the gun and blew the whole thing, some of the outlaws got nailed, more than a few got killed." He shook his head, the situation had been a mess.
"So Tanner got the blame from the outlaws and he got punished, severely. He spent two weeks in the hospital and his Captain decided he'd done enough." He gave a grim smile. "Only thing is, that punishment he took served as a right of passage. It meant his probation period was over and he'd be moving up in the ranks, but he couldn't convince Lomely of that. When he saw that Tanner had recovered enough to travel, he organised his transfer here for three months as a departmental exchange to get him away from the heat."
Chris thought that over. Just when Tanner was about to make real progress, Lomely had taken him out of the game. Fair enough that his agent had been severely beaten, but taking him out altogether ensured that the punishment had effectively been without payoff.
"I don't know Lomely all that well, he's a hard guy to get to know," Benning went on, seeing the questions in
Larabee's eyes. "Bassett's his first name. He said Tanner wasn't too happy about it." He shook his head at that, "actually, not happy was an understatement, but he told him straight that it was either that or he find a new job. He says he likes the kid and that he's a damn good agent, but if he'd stayed where he was without a breather, he wasn't going to live to see thirty and he didn't want to be responsible for that."
Chris considered Wilson's words while he read the information before him silently, trying to draw his own picture of what had happened. Something struck him as odd, there was something the files did not say, he was sure of it. Maybe a three month hiatus was necessary for Tanner to recover, but Lomely should have realised he couldn't just pull his agent out cold from deep undercover, not when he had just truly been accepted by the club, something near on impossible to achieve. Then there was Tanner himself. Looking at his record, he could see that there, too, were words unspoken.
"This guys at the top of his field," he thought aloud, "one of the best snipers in the country, he could be earning top dollar in his trade for any number of organisations… and he pursues a career in the Narcotics Task Force – volunteers to live with outlaws at the base level. Why?"
Murphy shook his head. "He's been approached, many times. Hell even the CIA were after him. He's perfect for them. No family, a lone wolf, trained killer, brilliant at gathering intelligence in the field… There's many groups that would love to get this guy under their wing, but he's had one singular goal since he left the marines and he's been a damn good operative within the NTF. According to my sources, he grew up with biker gangs in Texas and he detests them. If he wasn't bringing them down legally, he'd do it anyway. Any skills he's acquired he keeps for the sole purpose of bringing these guys down – and he's real patient at it; sets them up slowly and watches them fall, with them having no idea how they were brought down."
"So it's a calling?" Chris said with a raised brow.
"Well this is all we know at the moment and it's enough to warrant a good look," Murphy said.
"His fighting skills are how he infiltrated them in the first place as a probate," Benning continued the tale. "Some guys he hung out with training are in the club, including his trainer. They think he's a rising kickboxer, obviously they have no idea what his real occupation is."
"Who nominated him to be a member?" Chris asked, knowing that to join the gang he would have needed someone to vouch for him.
"Here's a fine example of how these bastards operate," Murphy said, with disdain now clear on his face. "This trainer guy nominated him. Tanner used to train with him at a youth club up until he left for the marines. When he returned and joined the NTF, he went back to the same club. The trainers name is Ray Hopkins, who just so happens to be the Joker's National Enforcer."
Chris's brow puckered slightly. He was fast getting up to speed on the terminology of the club, but it was a hell of a lot more involved than he had ever assumed. It would take more than the two months he'd had to understand the whole picture. Tanner was a valuable asset, if they could get him, but he had a lot of questions.
"That's like the internal police, right?"
Benning nodded. "He answers directly to the national president. He acts as a bodyguard and gives out punishment for club violations."
"Locate former members, retrieve colours, remove the club's tattoo, that sort of thing?" Chris asked with a smile. He was quoting a book he'd read, he had no idea how much of it was true.
Murphy returned the smile but his voice was stern. "Some of the stories are exaggerated to hell and back, but not all of it is fiction."
Chris nodded, respecting the mans experience, as Benning continued.
"And he's the one that put Tanner in the hospital – although it's understood that it was nothing personal, he was just doing his job," Murphy finished.
Chris shook his head. "So... Tanner gets in, does his probation time…" he flicked back to a page he had seen earlier, "...which I guess explains these arrest sheets..." He looked one over closely before looking up with a raised brow.
"He served six months?" That went beyond commitment. Now more than ever, Lomely taking him off the case did not add up.
"A few months into his probation, they had him deliver drugs to a regular buyer," Murphy explained. "He went in with about five other guys. Unfortunately, the case crossed into an FBI set-up." He shook his head in disgust. The lack of communication between departments across the country was a long standing problem. That was why this new ATF team was so important, to work as a bridging team. "It took a while to sort out the mess when he got busted along with everyone else at the scene. Three bikers died, one fed wound up brain damaged from a ricocheted bullet to the back of the skull. The club made Tanner take the rap, that's the way it goes when you're a probate. Luckily it wasn't that big a bust, they managed to make his sentence look legit when they had it reduced down to two years. He spent six inside gathering information on the network they've got going on in there. It's like whole chapters of their own in the prisons around the country. He used his time so well he practically wrote a manual on how they operate inside. It'll take years to clean out the system he blueprinted for us. They're doing it slow, but it'll happen."
"They looked after him inside," Benning told him. "He got it pretty easy compared to what most have to do to prove themselves. His fighting's what got him in so well, that and Hopkin's word. They don't know about his talent for shooting or I'm sure they'd use it to their advantage. One of the other bikers was painted a traitor, but he was already dead so it didn't affect him."
Larabee was starting to get a feeling in his stomach. This guy sounded too good to be true, but he couldn't ignore that there was something the files were not telling them. He continued to read the information on the NTF agent.
"There's no photo here."
"We don't have one. We're still waiting for some transfer work to come through, but there's no photo's on file."
Chris nodded absently and continued reading. "State orphanage… what happened to his parents?"
"According to the records they were killed in a car accident. He was bumped through homes and foster care for years, finally signing up as soon as he was of age."
"Already with a strong foot in the door of the club."
Murphy exchanged a look with Benning. They heard the question in Larabee's voice. Murphy took up the challenge. "I don't know this kid, but his record speaks for itself. Take a good look in there," he pointed to the folder. "Through him, we've learned more about this club than we've ever known, and we've put away more of these guys in the last year than the entire Fed operation has done nationwide in it's history. He's working for the right side. The Commissioner didn't pin a medal on him for nothing."
Finally, Chris looked up, he'd just seen the information detailing the award Tanner had received for the information he had gathered whilst in prison. "If this guy's as good as he seems, then why would Lomely be willing to give him up?"
"We don't know that he will," Benning said with a shrug. "I know he wants Tanner out of Texas for a while, but I think he'd be sorry to lose him... and Tanner knows nothing about this. There's no guarantee he'll want to leave the NTF either, but the way Lomely puts it, he won't be letting him back undercover for a while if he goes back. He knows he can still make a big difference helping infiltrate them down there, but he thinks he got in too deep and he's not willing to risk him, or any of his boys, like that again. Saying that, he says he understands getting Tanner out is complicated." This last he said with a rueful smile - complicated was an understatement.
"This is only meant as a temporary transfer for three months to exchange skills and information about state
operations, then he's meant to go back. It's his hometown down there, even though he didn't live there for a long time. He might be a tough recruit," Murphy added with a shrug of his shoulders.
Chris missed the look that Benning and Murphy exchanged whilst he was looking down at Tanner's file. If he'd seen it, he would have seen the calculating gleam in their eyes. They knew Lomely was making a mistake pulling Tanner out, and they also knew that if anyone had the balls to let Tanner dig deeper, it was the new Captain sitting in front of them. His unorthodox way was exactly why he was such a successful leader.
Benning smiled, pressing further. "He's the best, Chris. You want the best, he's it. I'll help you get him if you decide you want him on your team."
Chris looked back at him with a serious expression, then looked from one man to the other, knowing they were pushing for him to take Tanner on. "I'd be a fool to overlook what he's achieved so far," he raised a hand to stop them agreeing with him, "but before you two start patting yourselves on the back, I need to see that he can move beyond this case when we're done with it. He's been in deep with these guys a long, long time. The biker's aren't all this team is about," he reminded them.
"But they are a priority," Benning reminded him.
"He's also got a long success sheet before he took on the Jokers," Murphy said.
Chris nodded, his lip curling slightly. These two were practically transparent in their attempt to sway him, but he trusted them both and he respected their experience. "I'd like to see where his mind is at," he told them, looking at Benning as he finally nodded. "Guess I'd better meet this Vin Tanner."
Benning smiled, glancing at Murphy. "I'll set it up."