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[personal profile] azombiewrites
Title: Two Losers in a Honey Bee
Written For: [ profile] mag7_fic ficathon
Requested by: [ profile] jennytork and her prompt was: ‘something where each has to use some of the other's skills to succeed or survive’
Rating: PG
Category: ATF
Main Characters: Ezra and Vin
Disclaimers: The guys are owned by CBS, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment Group, and The Mirisch Corp.
Summary: When on a job, Ezra recognizes a familiar face, putting the entire operation in jeopardy
Spoilers: None
Status: Complete
Total Word Count: 7,272

Part One

8:45am... two losers in a Datsun Honey Bee...

They sat in the dirty, dark grey 1966 2-door Nissan Sunny, better known to the average American as the Datsun Honey Bee, parked on the corner of Peter Street and 12th avenue in Downtown Denver. The old car sat behind a new deep red Ford Excursion, making the Honey Bee look like a wreck driven by a person down on their luck.

Vin Tanner sat in the Honey Bee’s driver’s seat; body cramped but relaxed with his knees on either side of the steering wheel and hands in his lap. Ezra Standish, his body, tired and tense with embarrassment, sat low in the passenger seat, his arms crossed over his chest.

Vin wore a baseball cap, jeans, a blue t-shirt and a brown buckskin jacket while Ezra wore black trousers, black leather jacket, white shirt, and a tie that screamed birthday present. Earlier Vin had asked Ezra if he were on his way to a funeral. Both men wore sunglasses, hiding eyes that watched a two-storey building a block further down on Peter Street.

Ezra, after only managing to get two hours of sleep during the night, closed his eyes and his chin fell toward his chest.

“You awake?” said Vin.

Ezra snapped his head back against the seat and opened his eyes, lifting the eyelids wide; he was beyond tired. He covered his mouth when he felt it stretch open with a yawn and he couldn’t help but notice Vin glancing at him.

Before Vin could bring up the subject of why Ezra hadn’t slept well the night before, Ezra said, “Why this car? Why couldn’t you have signed out a decent car for us? Didn’t have to be anything extraordinary, just something that didn’t look like it was driven by Columbo.”

“Nothing wrong with the car, Ezra. It’s a classic.”

“A classic piece of debris is what it is. And it stands out in a crowd.”

“What stands out is your tie.”

“People are staring at the car.” Ezra nodded toward the sidewalk, where a man who looked as though he hadn’t yet reached puberty, was staring at the car as he walked past. A frown marred the young man’s features; no doubt, he was wondering what sort of person drove such an old car. Ezra was grateful that he wasn’t sitting in the driver’s seat.

“They’re staring at your tie,” said Vin. “Why would you wear something like that, on a job like this anyway?”

“If I had known we were going to use a car like this, I would have dressed more appropriately. I would have--”

Ezra cursed Vin Tanner and hunched even further down into the passenger seat when he noticed the two young women heading toward him, their eyes glued to his features – perhaps they were going to ask for his number. However, the last thing he needed right now was a distraction, and the way they were dressed ... they would distract him; he was a man after all. He enjoyed looking at scantily clad women just as much as the next man did.

Ezra quickly tried to roll up the window; the knob came off in his hand and he fell forward, smacking his cheek against the edge of the door’s window frame. His face went red. He’d never felt more embarrassed in his life – well, except maybe the time his Aunt Irma had caught him with his underwear down around his ankles; damn woman had a way of walking into a bathroom without knocking and Ezra was sure she had kept a lock off the door just for that reason.

“Nice one, Ezra,” said Vin.

Ezra bolted upright, gave the two women his best smile, the one that showed his gold tooth, and said, “Good morning.”

The skinny blonde, wearing a denim skirt so short, that if she bent over you would see everything, made an L shape out of her hand and slapped it against her forehead. Her friend, a brunette with very short hair and wearing nothing but white shorts and a bikini top, laughed at him, then whispered something to her friend causing the blonde to burst into giggles. After giving him the finger, they moved on. Ezra sighed and sunk even further into the seat, he’s knees banging painfully against the dashboard. He didn’t usually get that sort of reaction from a woman. It had to be the car.

“You’re a real ladies man, Ezra.” Vin was laughing.

10:15am... and boredom sets in...

Ezra Standish was more than tired, he was also bored, so bored that he considered playing Twenty Questions with the man sitting next to him. Considered it for fourteen seconds, and then let out a deep sigh through gritted teeth, creating an unnatural sound. He shifted in his seat, his butt screaming for a position that would allow the blood to flow, and the numbness it felt to flee. He was sure there was a broken spring in the seat. He couldn’t remember a time when he was this bored. He shifted again, expecting his partner to say something, but as usual, Vin’s body language spoke of a calmness that almost made Ezra jealous.

Behind his Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses, Ezra’s eyes rolled to the left to look at Vin. “Aren’t you bored?”


“What about your butt?”

“My butt isn’t bored.”

Ezra sighed in an attempt to irritate his friend; he needed to amuse himself before he died of said boredom. “I’m not use to this you know, it’s--”

“I know, you’ve told me nineteen times already.”

“--not part of my job description to sit in a car, if you can call this a car, and watch a building for--” he looked down at his watch. “Nearly two hours.”

Vin looked at Ezra, then returned to staring out through the cracked windshield of the Nissan Datsun and said, “What are you trying to say, Ezra ... again?”

Somewhere further down the street, a voice screamed, telling someone to learn how to drive. A horn blared which resulted in more yelling. Another blare of the horn and the driver moved on with her life.

“I’m bored.” Ezra removed his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes with the fingers of his right hand.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Ezra licked his bottom lip, replaced his sunglasses over his tired eyes and like Vin, returned to watching the building further down the street.

“Hey! Asshole!”

Vin looked to his left toward a red SUV that had stopped beside the Datsun, its engine still running. A man with a receding hairline and wire rimmed reading glasses was leaning over into the passenger seat.

“Are you parked, leaving, or do you plan to just sit there all day?”

“I plan on sitting here all day.” Vin answered with a smile.

“Asshole!” Wheels spun and screamed before the man released the clutch and pressed down on the accelerator.

Vin watched him drive off, then glanced at Ezra before returning his gaze back to the building, and said, “Did you get his number?”

“Why would I get his number?”

“He called me an asshole ... twice.”


“And nothing.”

“I feel like Starsky and Hutch,” said Ezra after a few minutes of silence. “I’m Hutch, the good-looking one with the nice car and you’re Starsky, the one with the hair, tight trousers, and a very nasty car.”

Vin looked over at Ezra. “Hutch had the nasty car and the tight trousers. Starsky had the nice car, leather jacket and jeans that weren’t very tight.”

“He did?”

“Yeah he did.”

“Then I must be wrong, considering I’m the one with the nice car, leather jacket and loose fitting trousers.”

“My jeans aren’t tight,” said Vin, his gaze returning once again to the building. He perked up when he noticed a man stop in the doorway, hesitate as though he wasn’t sure of what he was doing, and then moved on but it wasn’t the person they were waiting for. “Not like ... the way Chris wears his jeans.”

Ezra sighed and shifted his butt for the thirteenth time in four minutes. “I’m sure when Chris Larabee wears a suit, his balls scream in relief.”

11:22am... boredom interrupted...

“Are you a published writer?” asked Vin.


“Have you published a book this year?”


“Are you Barbra Cartland?”

Ezra frowned at Vin. “What?”

“Are you Barbra Cartland?” Vin repeated.

“No, I’m not Barbra Cartland.” Ezra screwed up his face, shifted in his seat so he could get a better look at the strange man who sat in the driver’s seat. “Who is Barbra Cartland anyway?”

“She writes romance novels,” said Vin. “Nettie reads them.”


“Yeah, really. Actually, I think I remember Nettie telling me that she died years ago. Barbra Cartland that is, so no, you can’t be Barbra Cartland.”

Ezra turned back to the front. He couldn’t believe he’d resorted to the game of Twenty Questions to pass the time. Vin's informant had told them Harold Cummings would arrive at ten thirty am on the dot; he hadn’t, and now Ezra was beginning to think they were wasting their time. If they had to wait any longer, he would surely die of boredom. “He’s late. He should have been here nearly an hour ago.”

“My informant said Cummings will be here.”

“If I sit here much longer, my ass is going to fall off, unless I die of boredom first,” said Ezra. “You sure your informant was telling the truth. A man can say a lot of things when a fifty dollar bill is waved under his nose.”

“I trust him.”

Ezra nodded and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an old man with a walking cane on the sidewalk watching him. Ezra did his best to ignore the man but then the man stepped slowly up to the car and leaned over, his forearms resting on the car door.

“You guys cops?”

“Yes.” Ezra still refused to look directly at him, but he was able to tell that the man was harmless; this man looked like he’d just had his ninetieth birthday, his skin wrinkled, his hair gone, and his muscles were sagging toward the ground. Ezra didn’t think the man was capable of taking a decent crap; which meant he also wouldn’t be able to overwhelm two young, physically fit ATF Agents.

“You’ve been here a while now,” he said, “Don’t you think you should move your car somewhere else. That’s what they do in the books and the movies. They move their car every half hour or so.”

“We know what we’re doing, thank you.”

“Your mark will make you if you stay here.”

“We’re not watching ... we’re waiting. There’s a difference.” Ezra could hear Vin laughing next to him.

“What if he see--”

Ezra snapped his head to the right and said in a steady calm voice, “If you don’t go away ... I will take out my gun and shoot you.”

The old man snorted, coughed and then spat out a mouthful of phlegm. “Just trying to help is all.”

“See that old lady down there?” Ezra pointed to an elderly woman on the sidewalk. “She looks like she needs help crossing the road. Be a good boy scout and go and help her before I shoot you!”

The man cursed at Ezra before pushing himself off the door and walking away.

“Can this day get any worse?” Ezra muttered to himself.

It did when Vin continued, “Are you Jackie Collins?”

“Yes.” Ezra lied. Anything to end the stupid game he regretted starting. “Maybe we should go see your informant again, knock him about a bit, break a finger or two, get him to talk some more.”

“You’re just pissed off because it was your fifty dollars.”

“I don’t like wasting money, especially my money.”

“Heads up.” Vin leaned forward in his seat and pointed toward the building.

Ezra also leaned forward – his hands resting on the dashboard – to get a better look at the man standing in front of the building a block down further down the street. Harold Cummings was five foot ten and at least a hundred and ninety pounds. He wore pants that could have been black or brown – it was hard to tell from a distance, the material covered in so much dirt – a short sleeved white shirt stained with sweat and long hair tied back with a blue ribbon. After quickly glancing to his left, and then right, Cummings entered the building.

“That’s him?” said Ezra. “Not what I expected.”

Vin ignored the remark. “You ready?”

“As always.”

“In and out,” said Vin as he turned to look at Ezra. The sudden change in Ezra’s body language surprised him. “What’s wrong?”

Ezra pointed, just as Vin had done moments earlier, toward a second man who had stopped in front of the building Cummings had just entered. The man was looking at the open doorway, as if he were trying to decide if he should go into the building or not. “I know him.”

“Coincidence,” said Vin.

“You know we don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Who is he?”

“Donald Jackman,” answered Ezra.

“How do you know him?” Vin looked at Ezra and saw a grimace cross Ezra’s face. He also noticed that Ezra had begun to rub his hands along the top of his thighs – not a good sign.

“Two years ago, I met Donald Jackman during an undercover operation while I was still with the FBI. Jackman worked for the main target of the operation.”

“Would he remember you?”

Ezra stopped breathing when Donald Jackman entered the building.

“Ezra? Would he remember you?”

“Yes. It hadn’t been a successful,” Ezra licked his bottom lip before continuing, “yes, he would remember me.”

“Breath, Ezra.”

Ezra’s hands began to shake as he took in a deep breath, giving Vin the impression that something bad had happened during the undercover operation Ezra had mentioned.

“You okay?”

Ezra slowed his breathing, getting it under control. His fingers gripped the side of his seat to control the tremors, “Yeah, just threw me for a minute. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. He should still be in jail.”

“Was it bad?”

It took him a moment, but Ezra turned his head to look at Vin. “Yes.”

Vin narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. As well as the change in Ezra’s breathing, and the tremors that ran through his hands, the color had also drained out of Ezra’s features.

“We can’t leave it,” Vin hated himself for saying it. “We might not get another chance at Cummings.”

“I know.”

“We’ve been looking for him for almost two weeks. If he gets away, he’ll go to ground.”

“I know.”

“We need Cummings to tell us where Pierce is, without Pierce, we won’t be able to get you into Smith’s organization.”

“I know!” snapped Ezra.

Vin looked forward again, thinking about a way around it. After a few seconds he said, “I’ll go.”

“What?” Ezra was still looking at him.

“I’ll go in.”

“You don’t--”

“How hard can it be to get him to talk?”

“What about Jackman?”

“He doesn’t know me.”

Ezra turned away; he felt like a coward. “Vin--”

“You can’t go in, Ezra. If Jackman sees you, he’ll react. That will scare--”

“Okay,” said Ezra. “Okay.”

Vin removed his cell from his coat pocket, dialled a number and waited for the person on the other end to pick up.

“Who are you calling?” asked Ezra.

Vin ignored Ezra as he continued to keep his eyes on the building. Just when he thought the person wasn’t going to answer, someone picked up and a voice said, “Larabee!”

“You’re in a good mood.”

“You guys are late. You should have been back here thirty minutes ago.”

“And you called us because you were worried?” Vin smiled.

“I didn’t ... what’s going on, Vin?”

Vin glanced across at Ezra. The undercover agent was watching the building, he seemed to be in control of his emotions, but Vin could see the slight tremor that continued to run through Ezra’s limbs. He wasn’t sure, if Jackman was still the cause, or if Ezra was angry because he had called Chris.

“I need you to run a check on a Donald Jackman,” said Vin. He noticed Ezra glance at him then look away. “You should be able to get the information from the FBI in Atlanta. Jackman was part of a case Ezra--”

“What’s going on, Vin?” asked Chris.

“--worked on two years ago.” He looked at Ezra who was nodding.


“Nothing’s wrong, Chris,” said Vin. “Our guy just showed up, but so did this Jackman guy. He knows Ezra, so I’m going in--”

Chris interrupted again. “Vin, you can’t go in there.”

“We need to find Pierce. Ezra can’t go in, this guy will recognize him. There’s no choice, Chris. I’m going to have to go in and talk to Cummings.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. What could go wrong?”

Vin could almost feel Ezra’s eyes rolling in their sockets.

“I don’t know,” said Chris. “It can’t be a coincidence that this guy has showed up.”

“Look, Jackman doesn’t know me. I’ll get a location for Pierce and then I’m out of there,” said Vin. “What I want you to do, is see if there are any outstanding warrants on Donald Jackman, maybe find out why he’s here, half a block away from Ezra. Also, I want you to send someone over here to back Ezra up.”

Ezra snapped his head to the side, the anger clearly written on his face, “I don’t need backup.”

“Buck’s on his way,” said Chris. “You need anything else?”


“Then go do it ... and Vin, be careful.”

“Do you doubt me?”

“Put Ezra on the phone.”

Vin handed the cell to Ezra. He shrugged, “Chris wants to talk to you.”

Ezra took the cell and watched as Vin opened the door and got out of the car. “Be careful, Vin.”

Vin smiled at his friend, said always, and then walked away.

Ezra shifted himself over into the driver’s seat, the cell phone still in his left hand. The sound of Chris yelling through the phone reminded him that his boss wanted to talk to him. Ezra took a deep breath before putting the cell phone to his ear. “Chris, I’m sorry. I didn’t know--”

“Not your fault, Ezra.”

“I know, but--” Ezra stopped talking when Vin stopped outside the building. He noticed his friend’s hesitation before walking through the open doorway. Ezra couldn’t blame him.



“You need to do Vin’s job while he’s in there talking to Cummings.”

“Excuse me?”

“You need to do Vin’s job, you need to back him up ... just in case this Jackman guy isn’t a coincidence.”

“I heard you the first time, Chris,” said Ezra. He took his sunglasses off and rubbed his eyes. “Have I been asleep for the last three months, possibly in a coma and have found myself in a dream. Perhaps woke up on April 1st, because this day is becoming a nightmare--”

“Ezra, it will take Buck at least fifteen minutes to get there. You need to cover Vin until Buck gets there, you understand me.”

Ezra sighed and Chris took it the wrong way. “Ezra, listen to me. You’re a good shot, almost as good as Vin, you can do this.”

“Of course I can do it, anything to get out of this damn car.”

“Do you know where to go?”

“Yes, I was at the meeting.”

“Then go.”

Ezra looked at the cell phone. Chris had hung up on him. His boss always knew how to make a person feel better. Ezra’s hands no longer shook; it was a good thing because he wouldn’t be able to shoot straight if his hands continued to shake.

He snapped the cell closed, put it in his jacket pocket and opened the door. He stepped out, closed the door and walked around to the trunk of the car. He stood there, feeling the heat of the sun on his back through the leather jacket. Ezra could feel his heart rate quicken, the muscle felt like it was banging against his ribs trying to escape. He could do this. Nothing to it. He opened the trunk and looked down at the H-S Precision Case that held Vin’s M40A1 Sniper Rifle. Ezra wondered for a moment how Vin would feel about someone else handling his gun.

Ezra told himself to shut up, grabbed the case, and slammed the trunk closed. He checked the traffic before crossing the street and headed toward the building opposite the one Vin had entered. He ducked down a side alley; he couldn’t take the chance of entering through the front. It was possible that Jackman might see him. Ezra shuddered at the thought. When he entered the building through the side door, the smell of urine assaulted him, causing him to gag on the smell and his eyes to water.

He wiped his eyes and headed toward the elevator, only to see an ‘out of order’ sign taped to its doors. Ezra cursed his luck – the day really was turning into a nightmare – and began to make his way up the stairs to the roof.

Ezra decided that when this was over, he was going to kick someone’s ass.

Part One | Part Two

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