Chris Larabee leaned back in
his chair with a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the
ache caused from three hours of sitting hunched over a desk doing that most
hated of chores. Paperwork. But it had to be done if he wanted to go with
the rest of the boys to Hawaii. Hell, after all the effort they went to
convincing him to go in the first place, they were liable to shoot first and
ask questions later if he didn't show up.
He grinned as he remembered
the team's various antics. JD had started wearing a different Hawaiian shirt
to the office every day. Each one more hideous than the last. Buck had
extolled the virtues of, what else? the women, on an hourly basis. Nathan
and Josiah made continual remarks about the salubrious effect the sea air
had on one's mental and physical well being. And about how much this
particular crackerjack ATF team needed said relaxation after busting a
major arms dealer just a few weeks ago. An operation that had taken them the
better part of six months and had almost cost JD his life. Ezra had said
nothing, but mysterious gifts had begun appearing on his desk shortly after
the initial suggestion about what to do with the two weeks of vacation time
the team had coming. Gifts such as a bottle of expensive tanning oil and a
copy of Fodor's Guide to Hawaii lacked the southern agent's usual subtlety,
but they got the point across. Finally, when even Vin had gotten in on the
act, arriving at work one day with a brand new surfboard under his arm and
one of his gotcha right where I want ya smiles on his face, Chris had
known he was beat.
"It's probably too late to get a flight and all the
decent hotels will be booked," he'd grumbled. Couldn't make it too easy for
the boys or they might figure out that he'd had every intention of
capitulating from the get go.
"No need to worry, Mr. Larabee. Mother
always taught me it's best to be prepared for anything," Ezra drawled as he
produced a plane ticket from the pocket of his expensive silk suit. He had
his suits custom made at a place Chris could hardly pronounce the name of.
He thought it was French, but he wasn't sure. Not that Chris Larabee was
ever likely to step foot inside such an establishment. Even if he could
afford it!
Still smiling, the tall, blonde man gave one last rub to his
neck and got back to work.
It was late that afternoon before Chris
Larabee was able to hop in his black Dodge and head for home. He glanced at
his watch. Shit, he hadn't realized how late it was. He still had to
pack and he wanted to grab something to eat before they left. He hated
airplane food. Sometimes being the boss really sucked. The others had all
started their vacations yesterday. He'd had to spend nearly all day in a
deserted office filling out triplicates of everything! Vin had offered to
help, but Chris knew how much the former bounty hunter hated being cooped up
in an office. He pressed on the gas a little more. He couldn't wait to start
this vacation.
Three hours later
Chris was pacing the floor restlessly, wondering where the hell the rest of
his team was. They were supposed to have picked him up over an hour ago.
He'd tried calling each of their houses, but there was no answer at any of
them. Then he'd tried their cell phones, but had no luck there either. He
was debating his next course of action when the phone rang. He grabbed it.
They better have a damn good explanation!, he thought. Something a whole
lot better than "Ezra couldn't decide which clothes to pack" or "Buck
had met a pretty lady they couldn't tear him away from.". Their plane left in
less than an hour and it would take them almost that long to get to the
airport.
"Larabee here," he barked into the receiver. The others teased
him about the way he answered his phone, but it worked for him. Usually
scared away all but the most persistent telemarketers right off the
bat.
"Christopher. I'm so glad I caught you at home."
The voice
sent cold chills down Chris' spine. He knew that voice. But it was
impossible. Tom had been dead for ten years. Ten years ago today, as a
matter of fact.
"Who is this?" he demanded, trying to control his
increasing sense of dread. A voice from the grave. It was like one of those
stupid horror movies JD was always making them watch.
"I can't
believe you don't remember, Christopher. Or do you leave friends to die all
the time while you go save the rest of the world?" The voice had an ugly
edge to it. Teetering on the edge of madness. He felt sick just listening to
it.
Stay calm. Chris told himself firmly. One madman, and a dead one at
that, is enough in this conversation.
"Tom?" he asked, not knowing
what answer he hoped for.
"You do remember. Your other friends will be
so pleased. I thought they would enjoy being part of our touching reunion. I
do hope you can make it."
"What the fuck are you talking about? This
doesn't sound like the Tom Bradshaw I knew." The feeling of dread had become
overwhelming.
"Oh, but I'm not that same person anymore. Time and being
left to die alone in some godforsaken corner of the world by your trusted
friend and captain does change a man." The voice was no longer teetering, it
had definitely fallen into the abyss of insanity.
"What do you want?"
It took every ounce of control Chris possessed to keep his voice
calm.
"I want you to join me at the little reunion I have planned. No
need to bring anything, old chum. I've got everything we need right
here."
Chris wanted to reach through the phone and rip Tom's throat out.
If indeed, it was Tom. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but
there was only one way to find
out.
Five minutes later, Chris was
back in his truck and on his way to a remote spot outside of Denver. There
was an old estate there that had been on the market for years. It was too
far outside the city limits to attract vagrants and the like, so it just sat
there and slowly fell to pieces as nature reclaimed it. Very few people even
remembered it was there anymore. The perfect place to conduct the sort of
reunion Tom had in mind., Chris thought grimly.
Fuck! Chris pounded
on the steering wheel in frustration. Tom Bradshaw had been his top
demolitions man back when he was in the SEAL's. He'd also been one of Chris'
closest friends. Always laughing and ready for a good time. He'd reminded
Chris a lot of Buck. Losing him on that screwed up mission had hurt Chris
badly. Forced to choose between saving Tom or saving the lives of his entire
squad, he'd done what he thought was right. Only, how could anyone know what
was right in a situation like that? He'd wound up resigning his commission,
angry with the stupid organization that had forced him into making a choice
like that.
"Captain. Chris man, don't leave me. Please don't leave me!"
Tom's screams had echoed in his mind for years afterwards. If Tom had
somehow managed to survive, what the hell had he been doing all these years?
Chris couldn't blame Tom for hating his guts, but the Tom he knew would
never have involved innocent men in whatever it was he had
planned.
At the thought of his team in the hands of some madman bent on
revenge, Chris clenched his hands so hard on the steering wheel he could
hear tendons popping. He felt sick with guilt. It was an all too familiar
feeling. Tom. Sarah and Adam. Now Vin and the rest. He'd failed them all.
But it was never Chris who paid the ultimate price. God, he would die a
thousand deaths if it would save just one of them. It was too late for Tom,
Sarah and Adam but he'd be damned if he was going to lose anyone
else!
Chris approached the desolate
looking house warily. There were no lights visible from the front. He
checked that the safety was off on his gun before making his way around to
the back. There was a faint light coming from one of the rooms upstairs. He
took a deep breath and entered the house, making his way up the dark
staircase as quietly as he could. He paused for a moment outside the door
that had a faint light seeping out from underneath. He wasn't certain which
approach to take. He felt faintly ridiculous at the thought of knocking, but
he didn't want to go barging in without knowing the situation, either. He
settled on a compromise. Opening the door quietly, he stepped inside, gun at
the ready, and took a quick look around the room. It was much worse than
he'd imagined.
Two cages hung suspended from the
ceiling. In the cage to his left sat Vin Tanner. In the cage to his right
were the remaining members of his team. They were all wired to explosives.
And in the middle of the room sat the demolition man himself, also wired.
Chris just knew he wasn't going to like this reunion.
"So kind of you
to join us, Christopher. Or should I say Captain?"
"What kind of game are
you playing here, Tom?" It was all Chris could do to keep from killing his
former friend with his bare hands. It was indeed Tom Bradshaw, his former
lieutenant, sitting there. Or what was left of him. Chris couldn't believe
anyone could have survived the explosion that he thought had killed Tom.
"Pretty aren't I? All thanks to you, my friend. I was lucky the enemy
didn't have my knack with explosives. Your friends won't be so
lucky."
Chris glanced at Vin and then at the others. "You fellas
wired?"
"Yep." Vin's reply was succint, as usual.
"I am afraid
that your insane former lieutenant is correct in his estimation. Our luck
will not extend as far as his." Ezra looked thoughtfully in the direction of
his captor. "Although I am not so certain he was lucky. Death might well
be preferable."
Buck snorted in agreement.
"I take it you know the
story?" Chris questioned casually. He'd never told anyone, not even Vin,
exactly why he'd left the navy.
"We know his side of it." Josiah was a
calm steady presence. He and Nathan were always ports of calm in the often
stormy waters of the ATF.
"That's all they need to know, Christopher.
They will get to witness a rather modified version of events in just a few
moments." Tom's voice contained a note of glee that caused Chris to tighten
his fingers around his gun.
"I'm here now, Tom. You can let the rest
of them go." There was no way in hell Tom was going to let them go and Chris
knew it. But he still had to try.
"Nice try, but I need them. They
each have a starring role in our upcoming drama. Besides, it cost me a small
fortune to hire enough men to get them here. Although I can easily afford it
nowadays. Drugs are such a precious commodity. And so easy to come by in
that wonderful place you left me to die in."
Chris couldn't stand
much more of this. Hearing the bitterness and the tinge of madness in a
voice that used to belong to someone he cared about was taking its toll on
his emotions. And the sight of his team in those cages was driving him to
the brink of insanity.
"Enough chitchat. Just tell me what you want,"
Chris growled the words.
"It's simple enough. You get to make another
choice. Your best friend . . . " He gestured in Vin's direction, ". . . r the rest of
your squad." He pointed in the direction of the others.
"I have Mr.
Tanner wired to one set of explosives and the rest wired to a different set.
I will activate the timers for these momentarily. I have given you just
enough time to deactivate one set of the explosives and get the hell out of
Dodge before the whole place blows. You get to choose which set. And just
in case you're thinking of trying any heroics, I am wired so that if I'm
killed, we all go meet our maker. Any questions?"
"Damn you." Chris
didn't think he'd ever hated anyone as much as he hated his former friend.
Even the people who had killed his wife and child hadn't elicited this
whirling maelstrom of fury.
"You already did that, Christopher. Now who
will it be? Will you sacrafice all for one this time? Or will it be the
usual one for all?"
Chris closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to see his
friends' faces. This was all because of him. Why couldn't he have the
choice, just once, to sacrafice himself? Why did it always have to be other
people? People he loved. He couldn't do it. How the fuck could he make a
choice like this? Maybe he should let them all die. No. Every fiber of his
being rebelled at that thought. No way would he let this insane bastard win
that easily.
"Hey there, cowboy," Vin's soft voice called out. Chris
glanced over at his friend. The best friend he'd ever had. "You know I ain't
afraid to die. Hell, I'm just livin' on borrowed time as it is. I should've
been deader that a doornail any number of times."
"Hey!" JD objected
from the other cage. "I almost died just a few weeks ago. Don't go thinking
you have a monopoly on it or anything."
"The kid's right, pard. I'm
afraid you're gonna have to get in line for that. Just like the rest of us."
Buck flashed a quick grin in the direction of the ex-bounty
hunter.
"You do what needs to be done, Chris. There ain't no right or
wrong here. Remember that." Nathan's voice was soothing as always. Well,
except for the occasional disagreements with Ezra. Then his voice tended to
get a bit frayed around the edges.
Chris couldn't do it. If he chose
Vin, every time they looked at each other they'd be reminded of what it had
cost them. If he chose the others, he'd be condemning the best friend he'd
ever had, the person closest to him in the world, to death. He didn't want
to imagine a life without the long haired, blue eyed agent in it. Or a
skinny dark haired kid with a penchant for video games. Or an ex-FBI agent
with a taste for the finer things in life and a heart of gold. Or his oldest
friend, whose laughing carefree persona hid a rock steady soul. Or any of
the rest, either. They'd become so ingrained in his life that they'd
gradually become his life, replacing the family he no longer
had.
"Choose, Christopher." Tom's insane voice cut through him like a
knife.
Chris glanced again at Vin, who gave him a small smile. The one
reserved especially for him.
He glanced in the direction of the
others. JD met his eyes bravely, as Buck gave a nod to his oldest friend.
Ezra offered him his special salute and flashed a quick grin, showing off
that gold tooth. Nathan and Josiah merely smiled gently at him. They trusted
him to do the right thing. They Lall trusted him.
Chris took a deep
breath and stepped forward, a look of grim resolve on his face. He knew what
he had to do.
The End
