Part 14. A Man's Vision
Vin knew he needed to find a place to sleep or he was going to fall down and was just about to make a move when Charlie found them.
"Well hey boys, guess this means my babysittin' job's over."
Vin had already noticed the approach of the massive man, whom he hadn't seen since the hospital. He wasn't easy to miss given the size of his frame, but the rest of the boys were surprised.
"Charlie! Where ya been? Ya took off without a word, we didn't even know you'd gone," Rizzo said, clanging his beer to his friend's bottle.
Charlie smiled, his assortment of heavy rings catching in the light as he saluted Vin with his beer and nodded to show his words were directed at him. "Had some Secret Sugar business." He looked closer at his face. "You look worse."
Vin smiled at the comment. "Thanks," he said, not knowing what he meant exactly by 'secret Sugar business.'
"Hell, when've ya ever seen Turner not beaten ta shit?" Bruce said, laughing.
"Aye, the lad's like ah fuckin' magnet fir a fist."
Vin changed the subject back. "What's that mean, 'Secret Sugar business?"
But Charlie didn't have much for him. "Just what I said, secret business, of Sugar's. Came to me out of the blue an' told me he wanted me to head out with him to come here. He didn't say why, but it wasn't long after you'd left that he came out with it..."
Vin frowned and then looked around at the men around him as they seemed to share a knowing look. "I miss
somethin' here?"
It was Cheese that enlightened him. "You sayin' ya never noticed the way he looks out for ya?"
Vin's face showed his confusion. He looked at them all, seeing they were serious. "Looks out fer me..? Sugar looks out fer no one," he denied. What the hell were they on about?
"Right," Bruce said sarcastically. "He always walks away from his job when he's payin' out on someone."
"He handed me over to Decker. It would have been better comin' from him."
Cheese shook his head. "Yeah but he stepped out, he's never done that before... an' hell, he's always checkin' up on ya. Every time ya fight he's practically in the ring next ta ya."
"That might be 'cause he's his fuckin' trainer," Bruce shot Cheese down.
Vin just shook his head, taking another drink. "Ya'll are nuts." But their words were bothering him. This was
something they had obviously discussed before. Had he missed something?
"Yep, that's why he made me haul my ass at top speed all the way here ta back ya up."
Vin turned his frown on the big man, giving his head a slight shake, showing he still didn't understand.
"He knew somethin' was up. I don't know exactly what's goin' on, or what happened that night, but he definitely knew somethin' was goin' down, cos he headed out on yer trail like a bat outta hell... draggin' me behind him."
"Ya think he knew Decker was gonna go after him?" Rizzo asked, his frown matching Vin's.
Charlie shrugged. "Told ya, I know jack about jack. I do know it's been too long 'tween beers." He held up his empty bottle. "My shout," he said and turned to head off, before stopping suddenly and turning back. "Oh yeah, and it might have somethin' ta do with the new team the cop's've put together to shut the chapter down up here."
Vin nearly choked on his beer.
"I thought they pulled back on that shit after that Fed bust went wrong," Rizzo thought out loud.
But Charlie just shrugged. He was the king of gossip, but he rarely had in-depth details, he just paid attention to the juicy bits. "I just know what I hear. There's a new team started up an' Billy's on a mission ta head 'em off 'fore they get started. Heard he's already planned somethin' big." He winked at them and grinned. "An' I heard they're ATF."
Vin watched the big man go, his throat suddenly dry as the men around him spoke words of surprise that a new team had been put together. Now their words were serious and hushed.
"They must be up to a hell of a lot more shit than we know about up here if they're gettin' this kinda heat," Bruce said.
"Aye, but Eddie ken's what they're up tae."
"Reckon he does," Vin added. "Sugar said he'd be here soon."
"Yeah," Bruce said, "he was makin' plans ta move out when we left."
"There's been talk about him comin' down on these guys for a while now," Rizzo said. "I reckon they've gotten too big for 'emselves. He's probably just usin' the funeral as an excuse to come here."
Vin listened to the talk, his brain in overdrive. The club knew about the team... how the hell could they know that unless someone had leaked it? He instantly thought of Levitz again, one man who had both the knowledge and the gripe with Larabee to have passed on the information. And why would Sugar ride out before even knowing about the trouble that had gone down at the club? He didn't buy any of the crap that he was looking out for him, the guys were obviously reading into something that wasn't there. He had to speak to Larabee, tonight.
"Where're ya'll bunkin' tonight?" he cut into the conversation, needing to get away.
"We're gonna camp out here, brought our gear with us," Bruce told him, nodding to his bike not far away, which had a bedroll tied to the handlebars. "There's a big porch 'round the back and an' empty shed. Reckon you'll find somethin' inside to steal for the night to keep warm if you take a look."
Vin nodded. "I'll check it out."
"I'll come with you," Rizzo offered, not liking what Charlie had told them. Vin had been through a lot in the last months and things just didn't add up. It was like someone had it in for him and he didn't think it stopped at Decker.
"Nah, I wanna speak with Sugar `fore he takes off, be back in a bit," he said lightly, then stopped as he half-turned to leave. "What's it mean, anyway... yer word fer the day?"
"Jesus don't encourage him," Bruce said with a grimace.
But Rizzo just grinned. "It means 'seemingly everywhere at once,'" he informed him. Truth be told he had started the dictionary thing with the noble intention of expanding his vocabulary, but had quickly become bored with it. Now he just kept going because he knew it pissed them off - and that alone would get him through to the end of the expanded pocket version he kept in his saddle bag.
Vin went around to the front of the building and checked the signal on his phone, not really expecting to find any service so not disappointed when there wasn't any.
"Upstairs," a voice said to him.
He looked up to see a man sitting on the ground, playing tug-of-war with a dirty mongrel of a dog, not more than a pup.
"What's that?" he asked him, not recognising him.
The man looked up briefly and pointed up at the building. "Upstairs... the only place your phone'll work."
Vin nodded his thanks and took a moment to look at the open front doors spilling light out into the crowd of men hanging around the steps. He knew what he might find within those doors, but calling Larabee with what he'd heard was important enough to take the chance.
He took a breath and headed up the front steps, stepping past the men and into the double doors, finding himself immediately consumed by the floodlit entrance and finding that there were more people inside than out, or so it seemed. The place was packed with men and women alike. None of the women wanted to be outside on such a miserable night. Nobody seemed to notice him as he slipped amongst them. Most of them were weaving on their feet, laughing crazily or lounged around chilling out on various pieces of furniture. He eyed a massive staircase and decided to follow it up, stepping over bodies both prone and still moving. Half way up to the first floor, using the wrought iron railing to ease the pressure on his knee, he came across a man with his pants down, rolling about with a naked, loudly groaning woman. He had to use the railing to climb over the two of them to get past.
As he manoeuvred himself around them he felt a hand grab his leg and looked down at two glazed eyes that peered at him through dark frames of blurred make-up.
"Wanna join in?" she asked with a rapt smile, her lipstick long disappeared.
"Not tonight you don't," her lover growled, turning her face back toward him, obviously fed up with her insatiable appetite.
Vin kept on up the stairs. He pulled his phone out and saw that it still had no signal and decided to head higher, determined now to contact Larabee before he got some sleep. No time like the present, with everyone as preoccupied as they were.
He headed up to the third floor, the highest level, hoping higher ground might give him some reception to at least send a text message to his new Captain, and found himself wondering against his will just where inside the massive house he might find Billy…
Reaching the top of the stairs he stopped for a moment, winded and pressing a hand to his side to hold the
increasing pain at bay, eyeing the closed doors that lined the hallway and hearing murmurs and voices from all directions. The place was a warren of doors and corridors. Looking at his phone again he saw it now had one flickering bar of reception and cursed, eyeing a large balcony at the end of the hallway with big French doors leading outside. Cautiously he crept up the hall and then tried the door, finding it open and stepping out silently into the moist air, careful on the slick tiles as he headed for the railing. From here he could see the entire expanse of the property below, with all of its scatterings of activity. Turning back to the doors as he reached the rail, he saw dark shadows looming on either side of the opening and suddenly knew it had been a mistake to come out there.
Too late he realised that he was not alone.
Before he could move, a low voice drifted to him from the darkness on his left.
"Well you're a long way from home."
His heart missed a beat as he watched the sultry figure move out into the light, her lips a knowing curl of liquid red and her wide eyes soaking him in. His eyes ran the length of her lean, toned figure, clad only in a tight, silky black concoction of lace that barely covered her skin. Jesus, she was in the sexiest lingerie he had yet to see, and he'd seen his fair share.
"Well now," he said, still rocking on his feet but his voice deadly even, "I thought I was home, this bein' the house of a brother an' all."
Suzy smiled, pushing her leg off the wall behind her and stepping forward. "I don't know that the invitation extends to his private floor."
She took a step closer, still smiling at him, but for the first time Vin noticed a warning in her eyes and watched as her blue gaze darted to the shadow that remained by the other door.
"Mi casa's everyone's casa, darlin', you know how it works… right Turner?" said a dry, deep voice from the shadows.
Vin felt the ground roll beneath him, totally unprepared for the moment now at hand. After all of his planning, his daydreaming, his scheming, it had come before him with no warning. Thoughts of sleep fled and adrenaline surged through his veins in the wake of the voice he had not heard in twenty-two long years, now seemingly passed in the blink of a hurried eye.
"You can go now," Billy directed Suzy and held her look until she turned and left, eyes lingering one last moment on Vin's form before re-entering the house through the doors.
Billy's eyes moved back to the man standing before him.
"You lost?" his voice grated quietly, not menacing, merely unnerving in its dispassion.
Vin tried with everything he had to control his breathing, but twenty-two years was a damn long time to plan a
moment, and it was suddenly crashing forward to catch him up, pummelling him with an intensity that rendered him incapable of thought, let alone speech. He wanted to laugh, cry, scream, lunge out and strangle the sonofabitch standing before him all at once, all the while his eyes were frantically drawing in the sight of him. He didn't know where the voice came from, was not aware he had spoken until the words had fallen away between them.
"Not any more."
If the Club President was curious about Vin's reply, his face did not reflect his thoughts. His long-tanned, weathered features remained impassive, calm and completely unreadable, made all the more sharp by the pull of his long, straight, almost black hair into a tight band at the back of his neck. He had a look about him that clearly told the world not to bother him unless it was a life and death situation – and even then, you were taking a risk. Still, they stared at each other in the silence, both measuring, weighing, whilst the sounds of the men below rose up from the ground along with the cinders of the fires to dissipate softly into the night sky.
Snatches of laughter, the sounds of the bikes racing around the other side of the building, the cheering men watching the fight below, were all dulled murmurings that were beyond the edge of the sharp reality that Vin Tanner now faced. For countless seconds the newly recruited ATF agent stood motionless, the air seeming so still that he thought perhaps time had frozen around him as the shock of coming face to face with his father took hold. He felt more alive than he could remember feeling in a long, long time and yet unable to move a step. Somehow, he was drawing air, as thick and as charged as it was all around him, it was still somehow getting into his lungs. There was no effort on his part to do this, for he had forgotten the simple necessities of life, such as breathing, in the face of the magnitude of the moment. His world was becoming a blurred kaleidoscope, with his father at the centre before him, in perfect focus, yet not real to his unblinking eye.
How long he stood there he could not be sure, though later he thought that Billy would not have endured a man staring at him blankly, as he imagined he had been, for long. After countless seconds, his blood began a desperate charge back into his pale cheeks, flushing them with a steady stream of inevitable anger as if responding to some unconscious war cry that was emitted from his awakened soul. Heat scoured through his chilled veins until suddenly his heart was hammering out a beat so fast that it began to overpower him, his senses returning with a violent awakening.
Now his hands itched for action, for retribution. Billy looked like he was going to speak and Vin's mind raced with the possibilities of what his words might be. For another frightening moment, he had the urge to step forward and take a swing at him, one crushing blow, for his mother, the one instinct that seemed constant within his turbulent heart. He went so far as to envision the feel of the impact slamming into his tight fist, the noise of the thud sounding true as his knuckles rammed into the tissue and meat of the face now only a short step beyond his reach… He knew, if he did that, that he would not be able to stop there, that one punch would never suffice. Still, his fury was not easily swallowed; it sat high in his chest, mounting with each second that passed, causing his jaw to clench tight and his eyes to remain hard and fierce in the light from the doorway. His fists were clenched with holstered rage and he suddenly prayed that whatever the man had to say, it was not the wrong thing, for both of their sakes.
He almost wished now for the numbness to return, so strong were the feelings that were running through him. The silence stretched and still Vin stood, his body pent up with energy, forcing his mind to reel through his whirling emotions, finally transforming them into coherent thoughts.
Billy had changed, was his first realisation. He'd aged, although he had never considered that consequence of the passage of time before. In his mind, he had carried an image that was now clashing with the picture before him. His father had always been big, but in a child's view he had seemed so much the bigger. Huge, black boots with gleaming buckles, massive legs that could kick out as fast as lightening across seemingly unreachable distances to catch you out. He remembered his fists to be like mighty clubs, that struck out with unchecked force, before any words were ever spoken in anger or there was any hint that the blow was about to come, or what might have caused it.
His keen blue gaze took in every detail, bridging the gap of two decades past, while the dark eyes before him blinked back with unassuming calm. The hair and beard were the same and from his rolled up sleeves, he could see the tattoos that ran the course of his body from neck to foot. His arms were still well muscled and his clothes sat tight across his built chest, but were not so dirty and unkempt now. Billy had bettered himself, it would seem, or had upped his living standards at least. He was cleaner, more sharply dressed, but to Vin's widening eyes, he was still lower class scum, merely playing the role that he had always aspired to, letting nothing and no-one get in his way. He had fought his way into a position of coveted power and of subsequent respectability to those who answered to him, on both sides of the law. At what cost, Vin well knew.
Was it worth the people he had crushed and murdered along the way? He saw nothing in the cool black gaze to indicate that a conscience was plaguing him, but there was something different about him, or simply the aging perhaps, of the sharp and menacing face. Whatever it was, the fire that had always seemed to burn so fierce from the dark eyes now seemed a little duller, flatter, a little less intimidating to him. Whether it was merely the observation of a grown man, more than able to defend himself and now not so easily frightened, or whether there was something to it and it actually reflected the price that Billy had paid for keeping his place at the top for so long, he didn't know, but it could not be easy to stay the head of his club all these years, always watching your back for the rise of a new challenger coming to throw you from your keep. Suffice to say he appeared… somehow more mortal, as vulnerable as the next man, not the figure of unstoppable force that he had long remembered him to be. Indeed, his mind had embellished the facts over the years, working on the memory of a scared and desperate child, and now he finally saw the truth: Billy the Blade was as capable of dying as the next man. He was no myth or embodiment of a scary childhood story, he was flesh and bone – and with that truth, he felt his lungs open along with his eyes and a deep length of air seeped into his aching chest.
He released the breath slowly, calmly letting go the fears and the images of a boy's mind, letting his doubts and the darkness that came with them rise into the air and drift up with the glowing sparks of the fires. And finally, when he could exhale no more, he began to take a new breath, as slow as his last was spent – and with the drawing of fresh air into his chest he knew that a new time had come. The next breath that he drew was that of a man, awakening himself into a new beginning.
..
Inside the glass doors leading to the balcony, looking out at the two men eyeing each other darkly, another set of eyes was observing all. On the wide, strong forehead that peered out unseen, there was a deep frown that matched the grim line of displeasure on his rough lips. He was too late. He had not meant for them to meet like this, not yet. With a sigh he placed a hand to the door, it could not be helped now, he would just have to play his part, as he always did, and stop the kid from making a huge mistake. The time would come when these two would face each other. when all that had been kept buried for lifetimes of pain would be brought to light, but that time was not now.
..
Ezra settled onto his polished, tan leather couch, not bothering to remove his shoes. He was tired, too tired to bother with even the smallest task of making himself comfortable. His shoulder pained him at every movement; all in all, it had been a bad week. He didn't know if it was seconds, or minutes later, when the buzzing of his intercom came to him like a distant dream. He had been waiting a long time to get the device changed, for the noise it emitted was like a screech that got beneath his skin every time he heard it, not that he heard it all that often. A meaningful curse parted his lips even as the harsh noise continued to grate his nerves. Someone was hell bent on him opening the door, if their persistence was any indication.
With a sigh of self-pity he put his polished shoes to the gleaming marble tiles and got up, holding his injured arm close as he pushed to his legs and shuffled his way to the intercom panel, leaning wearily on the wall as he pressed the button to answer.
"I must insist you remove your digit of devilry from the call button at once, lest I come down and appease my ears by rendering the offending appendage permanently inoperable."
Used to the churlish tone that he unfailingly received from the southern man that lived in the top story apartment, the night clerk ignored the threat to his finger. "Mr Standish, Sir, a package just arrived for you. Would you like me to bring it up now?"
Ezra recognised the voice and sighed. "I would be much obliged, Mr Shore."
He checked his watch, it was near nine o'clock, a strange time of night to be receiving packages he thought, as he went to pour himself a drink.
..
Billy peered at Vin through the silence, intrigued at what he was seeing. He had sensed the fury emanating from the younger man, curiously wondering if violence was going to result. For almost a minute he had stood and watched the man visibly check his anger and had seen the moment when a deep breath had brought an almost deadly calm to the lean frame. The transformation was fascinating to a man who considered he had the ability to pry inside a person's mind until he thought he knew how it worked. He could not begin to know what had spawned that anger, but he would find out. Whatever had caused it had brought the glint of death and retribution to the clear and focused eyes that had taken a furious effort of will to check.
He had read the battle easily, seeming all the more vivid through the mottled patches of black and blue that marred the handsome face before him like a gathering storm. A smile worked its way onto his shadowed lips as Billy took a step forward into the light and openly observed the younger man. He knew that anger, and knew it well – for many a long year he had ridden with hatred in his own heart, aimed at nothing, and at everything, all at once. Over the years the anger had subsided, was more controllable, but with it had come the need for self preservation like never before. He had thought the streets were tough for the first half of his life, but they were nothing compared to the life he had led since.
His fight to the top had been violent and purposeful, but no less urgent once he got there. There was no reward of peace, rather a heightened level of existence, where power and command was yours, but could be taken from you in the blink of an eye if you were not careful. Complacency was his biggest enemy now and the constant strain of watching his back had gotten to him, although he was yet to acknowledge it. He did not
trust even his oldest followers, save maybe Jake. But now, having reached the top, he knew he could not go back, the fall would be too great.
He had stepped out on the balcony to get a breath of air, to get away from the men all vying for his attention, some more vocally than others. It was a drawback of having the amount of power that he had, everyone was always wanting a piece of it. He'd spotted Suzy slinking around the hallway and had dragged her out with him, thinking to find some mindless relief through her numerous talents, most of which he prided himself on having brought out in her himself, but had been interrupted before he could even adjust to the light.
Now the source of that interruption was still staring at him, having uttered no words of apology, nor regret. The younger man was too caught up in his own fireball of emotion to be aware of any danger that his actions might have brought upon himself. Billy had the strangest feeling that he was looking upon something familiar. The eyes, that were even then glittering at him darkly, were no strangers to anger, he knew instinctively. They were also no strangers to charm, he would bet. This was a man that would know how to get what he wanted. Furthermore, this was a man he could use on his side...
Whatever Billy was going to say was lost as the French doors swung open to reveal Sugar, stepping out towards them, the light of the hallway framing his massive figure. Both men blinked at the intrusion, both welcome and unwanted on Vin's part and looked to Sugar questioningly.
"Jake's looking for you, the next fight's on, he said you wanted to see this one," Sugar informed Billy, appearing to have no idea of the tension he had just cut in on so casually. He turned to Vin, raising a brow, "See ya found yer way 'round easy 'nough." He nodded to Billy, keeping his eyes on Vin.
Vin stared at Sugar, the tension of the moment dissipating with his arrival, and found that he still could not find speech through the hard knot in his throat. He swallowed, his Adams apple moving in the shadow of his unshaven jaw and glanced again at Billy, only to find the older man had never taken his eyes from him and was still staring intently back. There was one difference in his expression however, for now there was a grim smile on his face, as if he had worked something out.
"Yeah, took a wrong turn somewhere," he said distractedly to Sugar, his response rough. He half nodded to the phone still clutched in his hand, all the while his eyes staying on Billys'. "I was try'in'a get reception."
Sugar shifted his eyes from Vin to Billy. "No point, it'll just cut out 'round here. You can climb onto the roof an' it still wont work. Tried it the other day."
A short silence fell, Billy adding tension by still not speaking.
"There's more than one landline inside," Sugar went on, trying to fill the silence.
Vin finally picked up on Sugar's hurried tone and dragged his eyes away from Billy to spare him a curious look. He was speaking faster than he had ever heard him, and making idle chatter? Sure he was somewhere he probably shouldn't be, on Billy's private floor, but it was not a crucifying offence. Sugar seemed…almost anxious, if he could believe the big man had it in him to be so. It was as if he knew how significant this moment was, but that was impossible. He was the only man there who knew the weight of this meeting.
"Like I said, Mi casa's everyone's casa, make yourself at home. Better still, come join me for a drink in my office. You can use the phone in there. Sugar knows where it is."
With those words Billy nodded and left the small balcony, exiting through the door and heading off, leaving Vin to ponder the smile that had left on the man's face. He could not fathom that smile.
Sugar waited a moment, watching Vin's eyes follow Billy down the hall, before giving him a stern look. "Like hell you will. What the hell are ya doin', comin' up here?!" He whispered harshly. "There's a bed roll in the back of the truck if yer lookin' fer somewhere ta sleep."
Vin scowled at Sugar, not feeling he needed to justify every move he made to the man as he moved to follow after Billy, only to find himself stopped by a hard shoulder to his own. He grunted with the sudden pain, resisting the urge to put a hand to his blackened side and turning his head with a frown to see Sugar's jaw working, like he wanted to say something but could not find the words.
"Somethin' on yer mind?" he asked the big man, his tone dark in reaction to the sudden painful jolt. Sugar was not one to dally with words, his job was purely physical.
Sugar noticed none of this, his only priority to get his message heard. He stared out at the dark sky beyond Vin for a long moment, his body language warning the former DEA agent that this wasn't going to be a polite chat. The Enforcer was simply staring ahead as if trying to formulate the right words.
'If yer checkin' the weather, I kin already tell ya it's gonna rain," Vin said. It was a sure bet, given that it had rained every damn day of his visit to the state. He was trying to provoke a confrontation, but he'd been right when he'd noticed Sugar was in no mood for games.
"Just shut the fuck up and listen!" he hissed, his anger coursing into his voice even though his body language had not changed. Vin heard an urgency in his tone that told him whatever was on his mind was important to him, and he had to admit he was curious to know what had Sugar so riled and so he waited, enduring the wrath aimed his way in silence. "You don't know what the fuck your getting yourself into."
Still Vin said nothing, knowing they were talking about Billy.
"He's not looking for friends and allies, he's looking for someone to take the fall. The cop's'll want a scapegoat over the ATF guy you took out and if Billy get's his way that'll be someone from Texas. He's bringing down some key men and there's gonna be fallout. I think he's setting you up to take it."
Vin thought about that. Why would Billy want to set him up? More than that, why was Sugar trying so hard to save what he thought was a doomed man?
"Who says I'm tryin'a be his friend? And why the fuck would you give a damn?" he said, scowling.
Sugar stepped closer to him then and Vin could see there was a battle going on in the dark blue eyes, one that he apparently tempered because his next words went in a different direction.
"It's my job to protect as well as punish," he said simply, his voice unusually raw. "I don't give a damn about Billy and his men here, but my boys from home are my blood. Eddie's been planning on taking down Billy for a while now, but he never thought things would heat up this quick. That shooting the other night escalated things, so now he's got a major war on his hands that he wasn't ready for. This place is gonna go to hell and I ain't gonna let you go down with it."
Vin's surprise was impossible to mask, but before he could speak, Sugar was talking again.
"You see the posts at the gate to the drive?"
Vin turned and looked out at the posts in the distance, difficult to make out against the dark night. They were painted a threatening black to match the wrought iron gate that marked the entrance to the drive.
"Look closer. What do you see on top?"
Vin's eyes narrowed slightly, it was a fair distance. One of the posts appeared to have something resting on top. A ball, or… hair perhaps… He swallowed involuntarily.
"Whoever that was, it ain't my style. That's just a taste of what he's capable of… And it ain't always men that piss him off…" There was a reminiscent quality to his tone that made Vin turn to study his face for the truth. "I've seen him rape a woman and then cut her up for nothing more than looking his way…" He looked right at Vin then and they simply stared at each other for a long moment.
He knew…Vin could see it in his eyes, but that was impossible… wasn't it? And if he knew about his mother, what else did he know about him? He swallowed the sudden hard lump in his throat and when he spoke his voice was beyond rough.
"What are you tellin' me this for?" he asked carefully, feeling a multitude of emotions push at his chest. Anger, as always, the prominent one.
"Because I look out for my men… ambition is one thing, but you're looking in the wrong place if you think siding with Billy will get you what you want. All he'll get you is dead."
Vin raised his brows, there was a lot more that Sugar wasn't saying. "Tell ya what, ya tell me the truth, right now, an' I'll listen to yer advice… otherwise, I don't give a damn what yer lookin' out for, I'm not doin' anythin' wrong."
Sugar frowned at the challenge, studying Vin's face and seeing the attitude there, attitude that he knew was going to get him killed if he didn't do something to stop him, but the truth… that was something he was not prepared to face.
"You know what? You want to join him for a drink I can't stop you." Vin watched him step aside so that he could pass. "Just watch your back," he added, looking intently at him to make sure he took that last in.
Vin paused, knowing they weren't the words Sugar had really wanted to say, but left him alone all the same. He had more important things to worry about than what was on the Enforcer's mind. Maybe the man had looked out for him over the years and helped him become the fighter he was today, but he had no feelings toward him that could be called friendship. He couldn't afford to make friends in his line of work. Still, the knowing look shared by the guys downstairs came back to him and he found himself frowning. How had
Sugar known where to find him? The man seemed to turn up everywhere lately... One might even say he was ubiquitous...
He didn't need to turn back to know Sugar was still standing on the balcony and cursed his failed attempt to get a message to Larabee. He'd have to find a way to get through to him tomorrow. He needed to know that the club was aware of the team. Charlie had said they wanted to 'head them off before they got started', which could only mean they already had something planned to hit them with.
He made his way back down the stairs, stepping once more over the couple that were still sprawled, but apparently now sated, on the way down. His mind was strangely calm, although he was replaying the scene with his father over and over, analysing it from every possible angle. And still, that smile bothered him…
He had no idea where the man's office was and Sugar wasn't about to help him find it. There was obviously no love lost between the two of them but he knew nothing of the history between them.
"I see you've found your way back to the real party."
He turned to smile at the woman who's image still haunted him from the night at the bar.
..
Ezra eyed the package the uniformed man handed him, appearing to contain paperwork inside. It had an inner-city post code on the front, and yet had been dropped at the door of the building late at night. Instead of referring to its delivery, however, he spoke of a matter of greater importance to him.
"Any estimation on when my intercom will be receiving a much overdue service?" he asked in his usual world-weary tone.
The night clerk only smiled, having heard the question repeatedly for several weeks. "Sorry, Mr Standish, I haven't been told anything yet, but I'm sure it's being arranged."
Ezra moved back, indicating he was going to close the door. "Entire countries have been rebuilt in faster time, wouldn't it seem, Mr Shore?"
Walter Shore laughed as he backed away from Ezra Standish's door. He knew, the day the eccentric man stopped complaining, he would really be in trouble. "Good night, Sir."
Ezra nodded absently as he closed the door, taking his package inside and heading back to the couch. Sitting back, he opened the large envelope and found another envelope within. Tearing the seal he peered inside, seeing several large sheets inside and slid them out onto the spotless glass of the low marble coffee table before him. It took a second for the impact to register.
"Oh my God…"
..
Chris rolled over and peeled one gritty eye open toward the light of his alarm clock: 9.15pm. He'd gone to bed incredibly early with a self-satisfied smile, knowing tonight was the night he was going to catch up on much needed sleep, but now that plan was shattering before his sleep-dulled gaze. With a growl, he heard again the hammering at the front door that had woken him up and threw the covers back, grabbing his gun and flicking on lights as he walked through his apartment, his naked skin feeling the coolness of the air after the warmth of his sheets.
As he turned on the front light he suddenly heard the flight of heavy steps down the hallway and lunged for the door, peering out into the carpeted aisle in time to see a man rounding the corner and heading for the stairs. He thought to give chase and then saw his neighbour's door open down the hall, the old retired Mr Jacobs looking back at him silently for a moment, a bat in his hand for protection. His heavily aged face was impassive, as if there was nothing amiss in seeing his neighbour standing naked in his doorway with a gun in his hand. Chris nodded to him and the old man stepped back, once more bolting his door without a word.
He'd never spoken to the man before, for he was more mysterious and protective of his privacy than anyone he had ever met, save maybe Vin Tanner, but he knew the old man knew everything that went on in the building, for his gaze was sharp and all-knowing.
The danger now passed he looked around and noticed an orange envelope on his doorstep down by his feet.
Checking the hall again he bent and picked it up before moving back inside and bolting his own door. He headed to his bedroom and grabbed a pair of sweat pants off the floor before going to the kitchen table, his office at home, and sitting down. He ran a hand through his tousled hair before opening the taped edge of the envelope and pulled out the paperwork within.
Photo's emerged from the package and with instant recognition, Chris let them fall to the wooden surface with a small sound of shock, as if the touch of them had seared his skin. It took a long moment before his hand went out and touched them again, scattering them apart so that he could see them all at once, cocking his head as he began to take in their meaning. This was wrong, they were wrong, they could not be real...
But slowly his stomach began to clench in fear. And if they are?
No. He had to get to the bottom of them, and fast. If he believed these photos spoke the truth, then he would have to question everything he believed to be right, including himself. The phone rang then, its electronic sound shrill in the quiet space and slowly he moved to answer it, his mind still focused on the images scattered on his table, instinctively knowing that the call was no coincidence.
"Larabee."
"Mr Larabee, my apology for the late disturbance."
"Ezra, what's up?"
"I have just received a package at my apartment that I thought you should see, before anyone else does."
Chris closed his eyes and leant on the kitchen wall, one hand gripping the phone tightly and the other raking through his hair as he breathed. What the hell was going on… and who else had received a similar package tonight?
"I'll be right over."
..
Looking at Suzie, Vin saw that she had still not bothered to dress herself and wished then he'd just headed back outside without interruption. He wanted to think, but more than that, he realised, he wanted to sleep. The sight of her face still bothered him, bringing an onslaught of feelings with its presence. Still, this was someone as close to Billy as you could get, she would be a handy source of information. He tilted his head back, taking in the site of her.
"An' I see ya still ain't found yer clothes… A mite cold ta be walkin' 'round in the raw, don't ya think?" He gave her a conspiratorial wink and leaned in close, whispering in her ear, his voice all the more rough in it's lowered tone. "There's some real unsavoury fella's round these parts."
Suzy's brow arched. "You don't say…" she breathed. "Well in that case, maybe you should lend a lady your jacket to keep her warm..."
Vin's smile held. She knew he wouldn't part with his jacket. A biker's jacket was something sacred. He reached over and picked up a discarded, flimsy lace top he had spotted hanging over the arm of a couch. "Reckon this'll do fer a start. Got more material than that… handkerchief ya got on there."
She did not move to take the garment and after a moment he smiled again and flicked it back where he'd found it, giving a slight shrug as he made to walk off.
"Thought you might be interested in a real bed tonight…"
That stopped him. He looked back over his shoulder, a brow raised and slowly turned back, his eyes hard. His voice, as always, was slow in its response, each word accounted for as it was delivered. "Well now, I reckon I've already stepped on Billie's turf enough fer one night."
A red tinge flew to her cheeks. "I'm no man's ' turf'," she spat, turning on her heels and stalking off.
Vin shook his head after her. 'Hellcat' was the word that came to mind.
..
Back in his office, Billy stared thoughtfully at the image of Vin walking out the front door into the night. He'd been right, the man had definite charm when he wanted to use it. It didn't take much to get a rise out of Suzy, but it took a lot to catch her interest these days, and he could clearly see, by her body language alone as he looked at the black and white security monitors lined before him, that that's exactly what he'd done. His curiosity for this man was growing by the minute. Most men would have jumped at the chance of a drink in the president's office, but not this one. Either that, or more likely Sugar-Ray had warned him away. With a smile born of new-found enthusiasm, he got up to find Jake. Turner could definitely prove useful. He saw potential in the intelligent features he'd had such an uninhibited view of upstairs. It was his eyes that had told him that, rather than the few words they had exchanged. The situation with Bale and the
shipment he needed to move required something other than brute strength to get the job done. He could send Jake to personally see to it, but he was beginning to think that after all these years it was time that Jake started stepping out from the hands-on work he'd always carried out. Also, Sugar's obvious protection of the kid amused him. It would be interesting to see his reaction to him bringing his boy in to do a job for him. That alone was incentive enough.
He was going to find out everything there was to know about Vin Turner.
..
Night Moves
Ezra tucked the images back inside the envelope they had arrived in and left them on the bar where he'd been sitting, contemplating them for long, quiet minutes, before the buzzer from hell announced Larabee's arrival. He didn't want to take a chance on anyone but his boss seeing the photos just yet. A quick glance at the wall monitor and he allowed Chris to step into the grand entrance of his apartment, reading the tension in the solemn face even as he glanced at the orange envelope his captain carried in one tense fist, his first question preceded by a raised brow.
"Am I to assume you are also the recipient of ill tidings?"
"No assuming about it," Chris said, making his way inside and hearing Ezra close the door behind him, "If you have the same information I do, it's a hell of a lot worse than ill tidings."
Ezra overtook him and steered him back toward the bar, waiting for Chris to seat himself on one of the high stools, realising he wasn't going to when the lean man moved toward the wide window, looking out over the dark city skyline, the envelope still held tight in his hand as if he could strangle it into submission.
"I didn't want to say too much on the phone," Chris said to the cold glass. He was having a sense of de ja vu, the view from Tanner's hospital window had been of a less affluent side of town, but the shadowed squares of concrete interspersed with slashes of light had been similar. A city was a city, building blocks of man that spread across the land until one had to gaze far and hard to catch a glimpse of the beauty that had once stood in their place.
Chris had never found beauty in cities and structures, but turning then to glance around the open space of the room, he considered that Ezra was a man who did. The place was elegantly furnished, and yet cold and sterile, hardly more than an impersonal hotel room, albeit a damn expensive one. It was as if the southerner had yet to unpack, or was only planning a temporary stay until he found another place.
He moved back to the bar and took the drink he was offered without having had to ask and glanced at the expensive label on the bottle being returned to the mirrored shelf. He'd give that much to Ezra, he had a nicely stocked bar. Ezra handed over his own package and remained standing as Chris finally seated himself at the high marble-topped bar, his hand lingering a moment on the envelope as he took a drink of the smooth whiskey, as if still debating handing it over. Then with no further hesitation, he put down his glass, wordlessly slid his own package to Ezra and opened the envelope he'd received in exchange, all without making eye contact.
Only the sound of the large clock above the bar marked the passage of the long seconds that each man used to view the images before them. It took only a glance to see that they had indeed received the same information, yet neither hurried to vocalise the fact. Finally, it was a harsh curse from Larabee's lips that put an end to all doubt. His fear was now founded and there was now no turning back. He threw back the rest of his drink in one shot and pushed the glass away from him.
"There is the possibility that these are fraudulent," Ezra suggested.
"Yep," Chris said, even as he shook his head. Discovering the truth was his first and foremost goal, but either way, these photo's were going to mar the career of someone he had known for a very long time. There was no telling whose hands they were leaking to as they sat here, delaying. And with that thought, he got to his feet. "We need to get to the bottom of this, and we need to do it now."
He tucked the images away beyond his sight and rubbed the back of his neck wearily, looking at Ezra with intent. The southerner did not expect him to offer any more than that and was surprised by the raw quality of his voice as he spoke, as if he felt guilty for even giving voice to his doubts.
"My first reaction was that they're forged…" again he shook his head, as if wanting to deny his thoughts, "but the different clothing in each shot, the number of locations and times indicated… I'm not so sure, now that I've seen more."
Ezra was more objective, although he had to admit, he hadn't known the guy as long as Chris had. He did not call him a friend, let alone a close one. "No man could deny the conclusion posed from these scenarios, the detail is too explicit to ignore. The visual impression left will be enough to bring his career to an early demise, should this reach the wrong hands." He paused briefly, lowering his tone. "There is, however, no way to be certain of the truth unless we pursue it."
Chris looked at Ezra, his eyes shining, reflecting the rows of bottles stacked on the shelf before him. "I owe him that much."
"So you intend to confront him with these?"
Chris nodded, now sure that was just what he would do. "How did you receive your package? Do you have any idea where it came from?"
"It was postmarked through the city post and yet found on the step of the building not long ago... I have no idea why anyone would send these to me," he admitted.
"I didn't see the guy that dropped them at my door, but it worries me that he came to my apartment." He looked at Ezra point blank. "I'm pulling you out of the club."
Ezra's eyes betrayed his silence, protest blaring from their bright depths. He had long learned not to show his desires openly for other's to deny him, however such was his passion for this case, he unwillingly let slip.
"Right now," Chris continued, before they could discuss it, "we need to deal with this, anything else is not a priority tonight."
Ezra paused a moment and then nodded, leaving Chris at the bar while he returned to find his shoes and coat, but also needing to get a hold of himself. There was no way in hell he was going to give up on his case, not without sure proof that Vlahov or anyone else was onto him, but for now at least, he would follow Larabee's lead.
..
A short while later, Chris stopped the car, taking his keys from the ignition and leaning back in his seat as the
automatic light flooded the driveway of the outer suburb residence. The clock on the dashboard blinked midnight, yet he was in no hurry to get on with his task now that the moment had arrived.
"I assume you plan on doing this tonight?"
Chris scowled at Ezra in the passenger seat beside him, who was none too impressed with his procrastination. He really couldn't blame the man. In fact, he was not totally sure why he'd brought him out here when he could just as easily have let him sleep in peace, but he had received the same package for a reason, there was no denying that.
"Come on."
They walked to the door in silence, not sure what response their tidings were going to bring and both wishing they were not the ones to have to bear them. Whilst Ezra had seen enough corruption and double crossing for a lifetime during his intelligence operative years, he was not so familiar with handling situations on such a personal level. Chris's silence was nothing new to him, but it had been deafening on the drive over, the car weighted with much troubled thought, and he had good reason for his worry. This could affect them all, regardless of the truth in the matter. Their team could be turned right around, should their founder be named unfit to serve the people. Ezra certainly did not envy Chris his personal relationship with the owner of the house they were about to enter.
It took three rings of the doorbell for the front light to come on and finally they realised somebody was looking out at them from the peep-hole of the door. A gruff voice called out.
"Larabee, you better have a damn good reason for getting me up this time of night."
Chris did not grin at the sound of the familiar voice. "I wish I didn't," was all he said in return, shoving his hands down into the pockets of his jacket as the wind kicked up and delivered a light spray of rain under the porch where they stood. A moment later they heard a chain move and several locks being turned, before the door opened and they came face to face with the man they had been looking at in photographs all night. It was a shock to them both, seeing him in the flesh with the images so fresh in their minds.
Wilson Benning stared at Chris's grave expression and held a breath. There were only a few rare occasions that he had seen an expression like that on the man's face, and it had never been good news. Something serious had happened to put that look there, something he knew he wasn't going to want to hear. He eyed the envelope in his hand.
"I take it you're not selling insurance."
Chris managed to give him a lift of his lip, but nothing more and after a brief moment, Benning stepped back and bid them to enter out of the rain, determined to get on with whatever it was that had brought the two agents to his door in the middle of the night.
"Well, whatever it is, you'd best come inside and get on with it."
They followed him inside and he led them to a dining table, motioning that they should sit down. He did not offer any refreshment, still not sure how long they intended to stay, or the nature of their visit. He watched as they both sat down, Larabee placing his package carefully in front of him, handling it as if it were a bomb about to explode if mishandled. After a long pause it became clear that Chris was not in a hurry to speak and Benning gave him a sympathetic smile as he stood and went to a low bench by the window. He took a cigar from a wooden box there and offered them both one, shrugging slightly when they declined. He went through the procedure of trimming and lighting the end before taking a seat, puffing to get the tobacco burning and then blowing out a low stream as he sat back. Finally, he looked Chris in the eye.
"Whatever it is son, it's not going to get any easier the longer you sit here chewing it over. Out with it."
That was his way, always straight to the point and in return Chris wordlessly pushed the envelope towards his old friend, his respected former captain and mentor for many a long year. This was the man that had brought him back from the brink of despair, had given him back hope this last year when all seemed so pointless… and this is how he was going to repay him.
Benning eyed the envelope a moment looking from it, to Chris, to Ezra, before taking a long puff of his cigar and resting it in an ash tray on the table. He dragged the envelope toward himself and looked again at Chris one more time before he proceeded to look inside, but Chris only shook his head slightly, not knowing what to say. In just one more moment, he would have his answer, Benning's face would be all the truth he would need.
The silence stretched as Benning lifted the envelope, opening the resealed end and taking the sheets of
photographs from inside. He placed them on the table and studied the first image, taking the longest time to stare at the picture before him. Finally he pushed it aside and looked at the next, then did the same to look at the next image, quickly seeing the pattern before rapidly splaying them out before him in a fan of images, all of which told the same story.
"Dear God…"
And with those two words, Chris thought he had his answer. Whilst Wilson Benning was deeply alarmed at what he saw, he considered that it was more the horror of a man that had been caught out, not of a man shocked with the images he was seeing, or outraged at what they implied. In complete and total disappointment he let his head fall forward a moment, his eyes closing against the sight of the man only a foot away from him – too close to the reach of his fist for comfort.
"Honey, is everything alright down there? Who was at the door?"
Wilson eyed the foot of the stairs in alarm, but there was no sign of his wife.
"It's ok, sweetheart, it's just Larabee. Got a case to discuss."
"Again? Hello Chris!"
"Hello Dawn, sorry to disturb you like this." Chris felt guilt tear at his stomach. What was this going to do to Wilson's wife and family?
"Just don't whisk my husband away til all hours like you did the last time you turned up in the middle of the night! He needs his sleep you know, he's not getting any younger!"
Under any other circumstance, Chris would have smiled at that - but not that night. They waited until they heard an upstairs door close before taking up the conversation.
"These photo's are not new to you."
Benning looked up, but not first at Ezra, who had voiced the question. His eyes were imploring Chris's bent head to rise. He sighed and met Ezra's questioning gaze.
"No. But not in the way you're both thinking."
Chris looked up at that, curious what he could mean, and Benning took the opportunity to look him dead in the eye.
"They're forged."
Chris stared at him, daring him to give him a good enough reason to believe him, because he wanted to.
"God, I need a drink." Benning said, but did not move. He ran a hand through his hair before he began. "This type of thing has happened twice before. It's a sign that we've gotten too close for their liking," he smiled at the irony of it, "so that is one good thing, meaning we are definitely making progress, but it's also going to mark the end of my game."
"So these pictures are forged?" Chris prompted, pointing to the evidence before them. He pulled one apart from the others, a clear shot of Benning handing over a package to a biker. It was one of many shots of their superior in suspicious situations with shady characters. There was even a shot of him at what looked to be an illegal fight, sitting next to a notorious criminal, who had since gone to prison. Several showed him either handing over, or receiving, money or dark packages and there was one in particular, that his wife would definitely not like.
"These pictures are most definitely forged," Benning said with conviction, "and an expert analyst will say the same. But it won't matter, not once they reach the wrong hands. My name is going to be mud before the day is out. I won't be able to show my face anywhere for a long while without suspicion dogging me." He got up then, going for a drink anyway.
Chris watched his back as he headed to the bar and the first stirring of hope was ignited. "You're saying that you were never involved in any wrong doing, that somebody is setting you up?"
Benning laughed, a hollow, empty laugh. "Don't get that hopeful tone in your voice, Larabee, this is definitely as bad as you think it is, for my career anyway, not to mention for your team. We've just started to make progress and now we're going to be the villains here, not them. Once they leak these images to the press, not only am I out of a job, the agency is going to be so busy doing damage control it's going to give those outlaw sons of bitches another chance to step up their game again while the eye is off them." He swore as he poured a glass of brandy. "This couldn't have come at a worse time, with the funeral only days away this is the last thing we needed."
Chris looked at Ezra, who was looking at the photos, as if trying to see something he had missed.
"You say this has happened before?"
"Twice. Down in California. George MacLennan of the DEA was getting close to cracking the amphetamine ring the local bikers had going when he got a similar package sent to him, via the evening news. The case was put on the back burner, his career was over and on top of it all, his wife left him, took their three kids and headed out of town the next day. Then there was Frank Izzano, he didn't get the same deal but it was much, much worse in the end. Photos of him with prostitutes and one of him allegedly taking a bribe. He managed to prove his innocence in the end, but it was never enough to reinstate him, or get his family and friends back." He paused for effect, looking Chris again in the eye. "They found him hanging in his own bathroom a year later."
Chris held Benning's look, trying to pry into the depths of his eyes to find the truth as the man smiled ruefully back at him. What was starting tonight was just the tip of the iceberg.
Benning lifted a finger off his glass and pointed it at Chris. "You don't even know what to believe, and you've known me for years. You've seen the type of man I am, the one that you thought you knew, and you thought you knew what I was and wasn't capable of, until now."
Chris's face flushed a little, but he was not able to refute the words.
"Son, a man'd have to be a complete fool not to doubt his own mother, not given the type of visual evidence you have there before you. My point is, if you have doubts, the public won't. This is going to be easy to understand to them, a black and white case. A cop going bad is something they have come to expect, and accept easily. And if they doubt one, they will doubt more than one. It's only a matter of time before they question how valid our quest is to stop the bikers. We might just find a lack of funding come next budget. In fact, if I'm right, before then. This might not be the only hand they have ready to play. I told you in the beginning these weren't backstreet thugs we were dealing with. This is organised crime, to a high degree."
Chris reached out and took the cigar that was burning in the ashtray, taking a long draw as he leant forward and then breathing it out slowly as he leant back. He wanted to believe Benning was telling the truth, he needed to believe it if he wanted to believe everything the man had taught him about honour and justice were still valid, but despite everything, there was doubt. The power of the images he had seen was strong in his mind and looking at Ezra, he read the same indecision in his eyes, subtle though it was.
Benning had made an excellent case of defence, had given the bikers motive and established precedent, and yet Chris's eyes were denying the reaction he wanted. It was sitting on the fence, pending an analysis of the photographs and the lack of conclusion was bothering him.
The phone rang into the silence and they all exchanged a silent, intense look. It was going to be a long night, and this was just the beginning.