Treading Softly
By Purple Lacey
Part Thirteen
Ezra sat stiffly in the chair behind the lovely hand carved walnut desk that served as the centerpiece of Roger Dawson's home office and stared at the telephone he had placed squarely on the center of the blotter.
He was out of aces and he knew it. The only thing left up his sleeve was a wild card, and he didn't know if he dared to play it. He didn't believe in gambling and this would be the biggest gamble of his life if he chose to bring this card into play. It could be the high card that let him rake in the most precious of pots, or it could leave him busted and broken, and on the road to his own particular kind of hell. There was no way to know which it would ultimately be.
What it really came down to was choices, he finally decided, or rather the lack of them. If he wanted his son back safe and unharmed this was his only chance therefore his only choice.
After Chris had returned the previous evening and Ezra had broken down once again, the broken father had found himself gently bullied and coerced into sitting down at the kitchen table and joining Larabee in the meal of leftovers that Nathan had been gracious enough to reheat for them. The food could have tasted like ashes or ambrosia but he would never know. He had been completely distanced from it. He had acted more by rote than from any conscious decision of his part. He had actually spent more time pushing the food around on his plate than he had eating it, but had managed to choke down enough to satisfy the large black man watching him from across the table with silent concern.
Nathan had tried to get him to lie down in one of the bedrooms after the meal, but Ezra had made it clear to the others that his compliancy only extended so far. Although he hadn't spoken of it, he had not been able to abide the thought of laying alone in the darkness with nothing but his thoughts; wondering where Alexander was and if he was alright while an endless reel of terrible possibilities played out in full Technicolor in his mind. He had known the nightmares would surely come the moment he slipped into sleep and he had dreaded the time with all that was in him. Sitting on the den sofa surrounded by the people that cared about him most had given him a measure of comfort and a sense of stability that he had desperately needed right then.
He had eventually succumbed to exhaustion sitting on the sofa between Vin and Buck as the group discussed options and avenues to explore, and the plan for running down the leads JD had managed to come up with. Buck had risen when Ezra's shoulders had slumped as sleep claimed him and carefully eased the agent down onto the sofa and slipped one of the couch's decorative pillows under his head while Vin raised his feet to lie on the sofa cushions. Josiah had pulled a warm, snuggly throw from the back of one of the chairs and spread it gently over the oblivious agent. By silent agreement, the rest of the team had moved into the living room to continue.
JD had kept busy through the long evening, and well into the night, sifting through the information he was able to glean from different law enforcement databases looking for the slightest glimmer of any leads and passing what he discovered on to the team. The young agent had been completely horrified to learn the number of black market baby rings that operated in the country. The older, more experienced agents had been only slightly less disturbed at his findings.
Although law enforcement knew they were there, they had the devil's own time getting enough evidence to take them down. The leaders of the rings were smart and well organized. They also seemed to be very mobile. If it started getting too hot for them in one area, or the police started getting too close, they simply pulled up stakes and moved the whole operation to another location. They also seemed to be exceptionally well versed in hiding the money trail that usually allowed the law to track less intelligent criminals. Going through report after report, JD had no trouble picking up on the frustration that spilled out of the usually prosaic paperwork filed by the various agents and detectives that had worked on the cases.
The young agent had spent most of the night tracing connections between the suspects of those faceless investigators and the men listed on the state records as being part of Free Enterprise Resources, the company that Margo McCain had called from her cell phone. After hours of intense work, he had finally pushed back his chair and run his hand through his hair as exhaustion finally overtook him. Although he as far from finding out exactly who had Alexander, he had made enough progress to feel able to catch a few hours of sleep before resuming his search.
He had waited for the last page of his informal report to finish printing out, placed them neatly in a pile by his computer, and then went in search of a place to sleep. He had to settle for the other couch in the den where Ezra was sleeping. The other rooms had already been claimed by the rest of his team while he was working when they had at last reluctantly acknowledged that there was nothing else they could do until morning. JD had stretched out on the sofa with a weary sigh and finally given in to sleep.
Ezra had awoken the next morning when the rising sun cast its warm beams on his face. He had blinked slowly for a moment in confusion as he mentally cast around for where he was and how he had come to be in this strange place. The familiar pain had flooded him as memory kicked in and he had swung his legs to the floor and sat up rubbing a hand over his chest as if he could rub away the ache that still resided there. Spying the sleeping Dunne on the couch across from him, Ezra had been careful to make no noise as he rose from his impromptu bed and stretched his stiff muscles.
He had caught sight of the stack of papers that JD had left beside his laptop in the living area as he made his way quietly to the bathroom to take care of nature's pressing call. Afterwards he had stopped beside the table where the results of JD's labors had been left and reached for the stack of papers, hoping against hope that his friend had managed to come up with something that might lead them closer to Alexander.
He had studied the printouts carefully. Memorizing the names and locations as he went was almost second nature to the experienced undercover agent. His trained eye had followed the connections JD had mapped out between the suspects easily, and he mentally made note of several things he would request the team's youngest agent to research more deeply. He had been halfway through the third page when the blood seemed to freeze in his veins and he felt his heart ice over with shock and fear.
No! It couldn't be, he had silently screamed as he stared at the name that had reached out from the page and slapped him in the face. Fate could not be that cruel!
The words had suddenly become hard to read when his hands began trembling as a flood of remembered fear and humiliation swept over him.
Martin Fellowes. In an instant, the grown agent’s thoughts were transported back in time to when he was a thirteen year old boy. A boy at the mercy of a sadistic animal that masqueraded as an upstanding citizen. A man that hid his sick and twisted soul behind an elegant, erudite façade. A man who could speak in a voice like warm honey even as he tortured and defiled, humiliated and dominated.
Ezra had been left in his care when Maude had gone out of town to conduct some business on behalf of Mr. Fellowes - or Uncle Martin as the man preferred to be called by the adolescent left under his guardianship. Ezra had spent the next fifteen years trying with everything in him to forget those weeks. He had not been successful. He remembered the three weeks he had spent in hell courtesy of Martin Fellowes with crystal clarity.
That Alexander might even now be in the hands of such a monster had made his blood run cold in fear for his innocent baby boy.
Ezra had slowly, painstakingly, restacked the pages of the report in a neat pile. He had straightened slowly and turned away to pace to the sliding glass doors that opened out onto the balcony that ran the length of the apartment. He walked across to the balustrade and grasped the top with a death-grip.
Not Alexander, he silently pleaded with every deity he knew. Please do not let such vileness touch my son!
He had survived his own time in Hades but did not think he was strong enough to endure knowing his only son was also a victim of the demon that presided there. He knew without a doubt that if Fellowes ever learned he had Ezra's son in his grasp the man would revel in torturing the child just to make Ezra suffer. The only salve he had to his panic was that Fellowes probably did not know that he held the child.
Martin held the reins of a wide and varied illegal empire but, like most emperors, he relied on his underlings to get things done; overseeing operations from his lofty perch without getting his hands soiled. He preferred to maintain his carefully constructed illusion of respectability. It was how he had managed to operate for so long without drawing the attention of the law enforcement community. It was most likely one of his under-bosses that was in charge of the actual running of the baby-ring.
Another stroke in his favor was that the baby smugglers had not known who Alexander belonged to before he was snatched. Nathan had received a phone call from Sergeant Aleman the night before to let him know the results of Janie Baldwin's interrogation. They had found out that Alexander had not been targeted beforehand. He had merely been the first child that Janie Baldwin, in her impersonation of Nora Clept, had been assigned to transport after being hired by the Giving Hearts Agency. She had no prior knowledge of who the child's father was.
Ezra did not know how long he had stood on the balcony and stared blindly out at the Houston skyline before Josiah came out to herd him toward the kitchen where he and Nathan had been busy making breakfast. Ezra had been too distracted by his thoughts to notice the concerned looks his teammates kept giving him as he absently forked up his breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast and chewed them slowly.
“How you doin' this morning, Ezra?” Buck had finally broken the silence that had descended over the breakfast table like a dark cloud.
Ezra had looked over at the man seated on his right side and had to mentally rein in his thoughts enough to respond, “I…I am coping, Mr. Wilmington.”
Buck smiled-the voltage of his smile nowhere near its usual brilliance-and patted his shoulder gently. “Just remember, we're all here for you, pard. Whatever you need, WHATEVER,” he stressed, “we're all here to see you get it. We'll get through this together.”
Ezra had swallowed against the lump in his throat, and nodded. Each of the others had been quick to assure Standish of their continued support. Unspoken between the group was the knowledge that the one thing he really needed was not in their power to provide, namely Alexander.
The six men had been determined to hover no matter what he did. He would have been annoyed at the best of times but right then he had been desperate for solitude so he could think things through, consider his options. It had been something of a relief when Chris had left for the Sheriff’s office with Josiah and Buck to try negotiate another chance at interrogating McCain, leaving Nathan on the phone to the local constabulary, Vin on the phone to the gentleman that owed him a favor and JD hard at work on his laptop once again. It had taken some verbal gymnastics to get his remaining teammates to leave him alone for any period of time, but eventually he had found himself alone in the den where he now sat staring at the telephone.
Ezra's face hardened as he steeled himself to face what he knew he must. There was simply no other way. Not allowing himself time to weaken, he lifted the phone receiver and dialed the phone number he had memorized so many years ago. He prayed that it was still in service. He didn't need to waste time tracing down another one right now. His knuckles were white from the tight grip he maintained on the receiver as he listened to the faint clicks of the phone switches connecting, and almost sighed in relief when he heard the ring tone.
"Speak," The disembodied voice spoke crisply.
The smooth, confident, I'm-completely-in-charge voice caused an involuntary shudder to creep up the spine of the agent listening to it as so many nightmarish memories were exhumed with only that one word.
"Good Morning, Uncle Martin," Ezra said, carefully masking all the emotions he felt behind his honeyed drawl.
The voice hesitated for a moment then replied with controlled civility, "It's been a long time, Ezra."
"Indeed," he agreed smoothly, being careful to let a hint of bravado be heard in his tone. He knew his role: the weak, frightened victim trying to gain respect by acting brave in front of his vanquisher. "Almost fifteen years. So how have you been?"
"After all that time with no contact from you, I find it hard to believe this is simply a social call," the voice replied in the velvet tones that Ezra remembered so well. Ezra had to pause a moment to gather salvia in a mouth suddenly gone dry as dust before he could continue.
"Always straight to the point, eh, Uncle Martin?" Ezra chuckled with patently pretended amusement. He knew how this game had to be played. His years of undercover work stood him in good stead now as he acted like he had never acted in his life.
"It does have the advantage of saving time," was the oh-so-cool reply. "Something I find I have all too little of these days...along with patience."
"Very well," Ezra pretended to sigh then said, "To business then. Are you aware that one of your minion's has absconded with the child of a Federal Agent?” He paused for a moment to let that sink in. “And that said agent is in hot pursuit of that child accompanied by his own private army of Federal agents whose only goal is to hunt down the child and bring the kidnappers to justice?"
Absolute silence reigned and Ezra could almost hear the gears turning in the man's head as he pondered Ezra's announcement.
“And you just decided to inform me of this supposed crime committed by one of my hypothetical colleagues from the goodness of your heart?” the sarcasm came through the phone line like a honey-covered rapier.
Ezra gave an amused chuckle before saying, “I am my mother's son, Martin. Have you ever known her to do anything without some profit to herself?”
“So exactly what profit will you derive from providing this information,” Martin asked coolly.
“Let's just say I am…repaying a favor,” Ezra answered. "Erasing a debt, if you will."
“To whom?” the voice insisted.
“To a very…sympathetic…Federal agent that allowed me to escape unscathed from an most unpleasant scene when a gentlemen I was trying to do business with found himself caught in a very tight Federal net that had been spread for him and his very violent associates.
When his fellow agent had his child stolen, this Samaritan called in the favor...and very kindly pointed out to me that the Statute of Limitations had not expired on that previous case. I, of course, immediately volunteered my assistance.” He voiced this last with in a lightly sarcastic tone.
“So you led him to my door?” The honey in the voice was stripped away this time to leave only the cold, hard steel.
“Martin, Martin, do you have so little faith in my intelligence?” Ezra scolded, careful to let a slight quiver be heard in his voice. “He has no idea…as yet…that you are involved. This agent asked me to use my contacts to uncover any information that could point them in the right direction.”
“And you immediately thought of me?”
“Actually, you were the last person I would have considered if not for the glimpse of a report this agent left out while he answered a phone call. I have always been good at reading upside down,” the last said with patently false modesty. “I immediately recognized your name and a few of your associates from the long list of names that they are working their way through. I believed you would appreciate a bit of advance intelligence, as it were, and perhaps some advise.” Ezra concluded in a tone of pretend innocence, “Was I wrong?”
”So you are playing both ends against the middle, Ezra? You pay off your favor to this Fed…”
“And claim one from yourself,” Ezra said with satisfaction. “I do love a double play, don't you?”
“You are, indeed, your mother's son,” a dry chuckle was heard from the voice.
“Why thank you, Martin. It's so nice to be appreciated.”
“You mentioned advice?”
“Yes,” Ezra had to draw deeply from his reserves to hold back the emotions that flooded him before he could bring himself to say what he knew had to come next. “I realize you might think the best way to make this particular problem disappear is to make the child disappear. I believe it would be in you best interests if you reconsider before taking such drastic action.”
“And exactly why would that be?”
“Because I know the men you will be dealing with. They are not your average federal agents. They are the top in their field because they are utterly relentless,” Ezra drew heavily from the deep well of acting talent he possessed and instilled all the certainty he possibly could into his voice as he spoke. “The loss of this particular child has drawn their attention away from their regular duties and has focused it solely on the child's recovery.
They are extremely determined, completely resolute, and highly motivated. If the child is found in less than pristine condition I am very much afraid you will soon find yourself and your organization to be the sole target of their energies and that merciless resolve.”
Although he continued to play his roll flawlessly, silently Ezra was vowing to himself to kill Martin Fellowes with his bare hands if anything happened to Alexander.
“You may consider yourself lucky that your interests do not include the sale of illegal arms,” Ezra continued, “Or you might have already had the displeasure of making their acquaintance. I can assure you that had that been the case you would now be receiving this phone call as a guest of the federal government.”
“Melodrama isn't usually your style, Ezra,” was the skeptical reply.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “But it is not melodrama I speak, merely the simple truth. You may also take it as gospel that everyone in the law enforcement community is eager to lend whatever assistance they are able to provide to affect the child's reunion with his family,” Ezra had to swallow hard before he could go on, "Or to avenge him should the child not survive the ordeal. They all seem to be taking it rather...personally."
"You are assuming they could make a connection between me and this supposed kidnapping."
Ezra allowed his voice to sharpen with seriousness as he answered, "You have successfully evaded the attention of the authorities for thirty years, have you not? And yet they already have your name on a list of suspects after only one day, Martin. One. Day. It is only a matter of time before you fall under their scrutiny. I can assure you that no matter how well you have hidden your less legitimate enterprises, they will find them and drag them into the light for examination for they are a most efficient, and determined, lot.”
Ezra could almost hear the man weighing his words.
“You need not take my word for it,” Ezra told him. “I am sure you have your own information sources within the local constabulary. You can, no doubt, verify all I have expounded on with said sources.”
That was a calculated risk. Ezra knew that Fellowes had not lasted as long as he had without having a few cops on his payroll. It was one of those unpleasant facts of life that all the decent, hardworking officers and agents had to live with: they could be sold out by their own. A criminal empire the size of Martin's had the money and power to buy quite a few dirty cops.
Ezra was aware that most of the local police knew of the kidnapping of a Fed's child by this time. What he didn't know was how many of them would be aware of his real name. Ever mindful of their undercover operative’s safety, his teammates had been careful to withhold his given name in their communications when making contact with the locals while in route to Houston. That left only those on scene at the motel and McCain’s house that he had to be concerned with.
He mentally tried to come up with a list of the officers he had come in direct contact with since arriving in Houston, knowing each man in the count increased the odds of Martin finding out he was the agent and Alexander was his son. He did not like the number he eventually came up with but knew the subject was academic at this point. His course had been set when he lifted the receiver of the telephone. He would follow it through. He had no other choice if he wanted to see his son alive.
“Oh I believe you, Ezra. You know better than to lie to me, don't you?” The evil assurance in the man's cultured voice caused a shiver to trace the length of his spine.
For one moment, the old fear threatened to overwhelm him at the unsubtle reminder of the agony he had suffered at this man's cruel hands and the unholy, perverted delight Martin had taken in torturing a thirteen year old boy simply because he could. Ruthlessly Ezra warded the fear off, using the thought of his imperiled son like a sword to beat it back.
“Indeed,” the agent answered and he made no attempt to hide the shakiness of his voice, knowing Martin would interpret it to mean Ezra was still too frightened of him after all these years to try anything.
Anyone else would have listened to the chuckle that came across the phone line and heard only light amusement, but Ezra could hear the evil pleasure the demon in a designer suit took in the thought of the younger man being cowed and subjugated by him. Ezra had to grit his teeth and the hand not holding the phone clenched until the knuckles stood out in white relief. His intense hatred for this man burned through him like a flashfire, tempering his resolve like carbon and forge would temper steel. Once Alexander was safely back in his arms, Ezra decided, a few old scores would have to be settled, and hopefully a few ghosts laid to rest. But that could wait. Alexander could not.
Knowing his target would see any continued attempts at persuasion as a challenge to his authority and not wanting to seem too anxious, Ezra wisely kept silent as the man pondered. Although each second seemed like an eternity to the anxious father, less than a minute actually passed before the crime lord appeared to come to a decision.
”Since I have no knowledge of this child of whom you speak,” the smooth voice finally said, still careful to deny any culpability, “I can not help you directly. I can have some on my people look into it for you though. I have several rather talented investigators on retainer. Perhaps they can find something to assist in the search for this missing infant. Give me a number where you can be reached if they are able to…turn up anything.”
Ezra relayed the number of the cell phone he kept for his undercover work, knowing the number was only traceable back to one of his criminal personas.
“Someone will be in touch,” Martin said crisply.
“As you wish,” Ezra said meekly, still trying to convey the picture of a cowering, completely dominated man to Fellowes.
The decisive click signaled the end of the call.
Ezra placed the phone receiver gently back into its cradle, showing what he thought was considerable restraint when what he really wanted to do was rip the phone from the desk and throw it against the far wall. He leapt from the chair to begin pacing, his agitated steps making no sound on the thick, well-padded carpet. He had just paced to the end of the room and made a swift turn when he jerked to a stop at finding crystal blue eyes watching him with open speculation.
“Got something you’d like to share, Ez?” the blond sharpshooter and ex-bounty hunter asked quietly.
Silently Ezra swore at himself. He had been so intent on his phone call that he had not been paying sufficient attention to his surroundings. He had absolutely no idea how long Vin had been standing at the door, or how much he might have overheard.
Ezra had not wanted to involve his friends in this business, not because he didn’t trust them but because he knew there were a thousand ways this could go wrong. As much as he wanted his son back, he didn’t want his friends hurt, possibly even killed. Alexander was his son, so the risk should be his alone. He had already made the decision not to tell the six men of his plans before he had ever picked up the phone. Now that decision was about to come under fire, he was sure of it.
The two stared at each other for a moment before Ezra cleared his throat a little and replied, “I’m afraid not, Mr. Tanner. I hope you have better news. Was your associate able to ferret out any information at all?”
Vin continued to stare at the undercover agent and Ezra began to get uncomfortable. Eventually Vin broke the silence.
“You’re a real good undercover agent, you know that, Ez?” Unfathomable blue eyes never blinked as Vin addressed him, “The best I’ve ever seen. I’ve watched you slip in and out of trouble and make it look easier than spit. Watched you blend into a place until you almost faded from sight. Seen you lose yourself in a crowd; disappear in a deserted street. You’re real good at hiding. But you know something? I’m better at tracking than you are at hiding. There ain’t no place you can go in this city that I can’t find you.”
Ezra sighed in resignation at the unsubtle threat and gave in without a fight, knowing the longhaired agent watching him so closely was fully capable of carrying it out. While one part of him railed at the ruination of his plan to skip out and deal with Martin Fellowes on his own, another part cried out in relief at not having to face this monster from his past alone. Vin read the capitulation in the emerald eyes and a tiny smile broke out in approval of the man’s decision.
Ezra gestured toward the overstuffed sectional couch that took up a corner of the office and said quietly, “Why don’t we get comfortable, Mr. Tanner. This could take awhile.”