Title: Denver Holiday
By: Tidia
Disclaimer: MOG created the universe and I play. The Magnificent Seven are owned by Trilogy and MGM.
Comments: Any references on the country of Bahrain are true. The information is from the State Department and Amnesty International. The Saint Regis is a hotel owned by Starwood, Inc. Although there is a Saint Regis in Colorado, I am actually using characteristics of the Loews Giorgio Hotel. The characters are fictional and the story is too. Thank you MOG for the betaing and being Madame Creator. In addition a thank you to Kim and Shay for their support during the writing process. The title comes from the movie Roman Holiday.


*******
The screams were coming from every direction. People were running. She saw the men who had been assigned to protect her. She could see flashes of clothing. Faces were a sudden blur. Everything was out of control. She heard another popping sound.

She put her hands up to cover her ears. She brushed against her mouth and noticed it was open. Was she screaming? Then she felt a force slamming into her side. She was falling, out of control. With a vibrating thud she landed on the pavement. She felt a stinging sensation radiating through her. She couldn't think. Her eyes drifted to the still standing decorations. She wanted to laugh at the flowers still perfectly arranged, out of place in the chaos of gunfire.

She had to get up, but something was smothering her, another body was draped across her. She turned to push him off and felt a wetness slip over her hand. She brought the hand in front of her and saw the blood. She clenched her hand, closed her eyes to the mayhem and began to scream. Its sound seemingly the only noise she could hear.

*******
Buck was appreciating the crisp, fall morning in Denver. Through the tinted windows of the conference room he could see the wind was blowing a little outside, bringing rosieness to the cheeks of even the palest woman. The team had gotten a note that they had a new assignment. JD was sitting next to him; pen posed ready to take notes. Chris, the Judge and some State Department guy were at the head of the table. Wilmington really wasn't paying attention. He was thinking about his date with a fine young filly that he had planned for that night. Then he heard what the Judge was saying and he just had to interrupt.

"Babysitting? Damn, Chris, I thought we were further up the totem pole than that." Buck guffawed, looking at the others to see what they thought. Ezra didn't look too happy. He raised his green eyes to a standing Larabee.

"May I inquire as to why we are being punished?" He drawled out.

The Judge glanced at Chris and with a grin announced to the men, "Agent Larabee volunteered Team Seven for this duty."

Buck scrutinized his teammates reaction. He glanced at JD, whose pen was skipping along the note pad. JD didn't care. He loved his job and like a puppy he would go along with everything. Ezra was shaking his head. Nathan and Josiah had crossed their arms over their chests and didn't look thrilled with the assignment. Nothing flickered over Tanner's face. He was probably doing some mind melding thing with Chris. "You did what?" Buck asked. He couldn't believe Chris volunteered them for a case, trouble found them- they didn't go looking for it. Especially when the State Department was involved.

Chris stared at him a bit. Buck wiggled his fingers in his leader's direction, as if to say 'your mojo doesn't work on me.' JD flicked him in the shoulder to stop, but Wilmington ignored him. The kid had to understand that sometimes you had to be a wise ass and lighten up the day.

"Not that I owe you all an explanation," Larabee commented. "Remember, on my desk it says Agent-in-Charge?" The team squirmed. "Reports have come in that the Emir may be involved in arms dealings."

Robert Stanley, the State Department representative took the lull in the conversation as an opportunity to show a slide of a tall, Middle Eastern man. "Gentlemen, Emir Hamad bin Isa Salman al Khalifa," he flicked another button and a closer picture of the man appeared.

"Whoa, whatcha say we call him Sonny for short." Buck said as he took out his Marvin the Martian pen and began to write some notes. The room laughed in agreement.

"Sonny is the Emir of the country of Bahrain." The next slide slipped in and showed the picture of the country. "It's a collection of islands in the Middle East. They were the first country to discover oil. However, in fifteen years the oil reserves will be depleted and so they are expanding in other industries. Tourism is one of them. That is why they are here to buy the Saint Regis." The next picture showed the famous, elegant, hotel in Denver's Cherry Hill district.

Ezra looked up. "So they can use the Saint Regis name in their country, and all the aplomb it brings."

Stanley nodded and continued with his next picture. "He is traveling with his daughter, Ameerah Kamilah . . ."

"Don't go adding all that bin, muff, huffy stuff. We get the picture." Buck interrupted, sitting up straighter in his seat as he noticed the beautiful woman.

JD leaned forward so he could see the slide better. "She makes me want to go visit."

Josiah chuckled from the end of the table. "I don't think you want to do that son. Amnesty International has written some reports on Bahrain's problems."

"What kind of problems?" JD had a curious mind and wanted to know.

"If I remember correctly. There have been numerous reports on abuses against women and children. It all stems from religious differences and the lack of a democratic environment. The monarchy is Sunni Moslem, while most of the population is Shiite Moslem. The government feels threatened since they feel the Iranians back the Shiite Moslems. Then Emir and his ministry started an overt campaign to stamp out people who want to bring the Bahrainian constitution back." Josiah continued, lost in the knowledge he was sharing with the group.

"Whoa Pard," Buck said. "Information overload." He was still catching up on his notes.

"He is correct though." Stanley interjected. "The State Department has been collecting information on protests and the ruling government's treatment of their prisoners. Gentlemen, from what I have read, you should all be thankful we have due process in this country."

The men talked among themselves. Nathan asked more questions of Josiah. Chris cleared his throat to get their attention.

"Josiah and Nathan are with me guarding the Emir."

Buck crossed his fingers hoping he was assigned to the girl.

"Ezra and Vin are with the Princess, and Buck and JD are going in as hotel staff."

Everyone was puzzled by their duties. This was not the usual pairings. Buck took a deep breath, and when he let it out, he also let out his thoughts. "KP duty? Aww, come on ol' Buddy!" Wilmington wanted to remind the leader of their twenty-year friendship.

Chris smiled. "We're outta here in fifteen minutes."

*******
Vin stayed in place watching the others exit the conference room. Chris was exchanging niceties with the Judge and State Department rep, a few handshakes later they left. Tanner cleared his throat as he confronted the leader.

"Chris what's up?"

"With?" Larabee asked distractedly as he signed some reports.

Vin expelled air through his nose in a snort. "My assignment. You have me guarding a princess." Years in special ops and then with the US Marshall's service and he ended up guarding a girl?

"You too?" Chris clicked the top of his green pen. Printed across the pen was 'Mutt's Bait and Tackle', reminding Vin of a long ago fishing trip. "Not that I need to explain my decisions to you, but Buck and girl -no go."

Vin nodded, that much made sense, but he still wanted to know the reason for the others. Larabee continued.

"Josiah has knowledge of Muslims, and I don't want to make any stupid mistakes. The State Department wants a medical assessment and so…"

"Nathan," Vin finished the sentence.

Chris nodded. "Ezra is into all that fancy, jet-set shit, and I need you to make sure he doesn't work any angles. Meet with your approval Agent Tanner?"

The sharpshooter chuckled. "Okay, Boss, but you owe me."

The leader smirked and left the room not acknowledging Vin's statement.

*******

Chris, Nathan, Josiah, Ezra and Vin went to a private airstrip to meet the Emir and his daughter, and to provide escort back to the hotel where they would be staying for a week. The plane touched down. The red and white Bahrainian flag was emblazoned on its hull. Within moments after it had completed its turn, a stairway was brought forward. A flash of yellow whisked by the hatch. When the form turned they could see it was a tall, thin woman. The princess dressed in a stylish mustard colored suit, with a silk scarf about her neck. The scarf rippled as it was caught up by the wind

"Oh yeah, you look like you are in for a hell of a time." Chris said as he playfully slapped Vin on the back.

Vin slowly evaluated the woman. She looked like a good wind would send her spiraling off. It didn't help that she was teetered on spiky heels. She had dark long hair and an olive complexion. She smiled and shook hands with a gentleman who had approached her from the moveable stairway but the congenial expression was hidden momentarily as a wind caught her hair and sprayed it wildly around her. A quick gesture with her left hand brought it under control as the man led her aside. Their heads bent together as they spoke. His turban harshly contrasted with her unadorned head. She looked like one of those high maintenance women. She was right up Ezra's alley.

"Yes, gentlemen, Lady Luck has yet again blessed Ezra Standish." The undercover agent clasped his hands together, and rubbed them together as if looking forward to a good meal. Vin shook his head.

"Amen to that Brother." Josiah said, appreciating her exotic looks.

Vin gave a nod to Chris, who was watching the next passenger come down the aluminum steps. The Emir looked like his picture, except in person he exuded a sense of confidence and arrogance. His head was covered, but he wore a finely tailored business suit. His beard was neatly trimmed.

"Later," Vin said giving the others the two-finger salute. Ezra, after removing the imaginary lint from his suit sleeves, was making his way to the other limousine. Vin caught up to him in a few strides. Standish opened the door for the princess, who did not give them a second look.

She had large, black sunglasses on even though the sky had become overcast. What was she trying to hide? 'Whatever,' Vin thought. He had a job to do, which transcended any feelings he had toward the wealthy of the world who ignored others. Ezra ducked into the limo and Vin followed, making himself comfortable in the plush surroundings. He saw Standish flash his gold tooth at the princess. Tanner looked out the window, this sucked.

*******
Buck figured he and JD might as well make the most of it. The others had to be on their best behavior, Wilmington and Dunne, however, would have some freedom at the hotel. They entered the gold trimmed revolving doors. The doorman, wearing a long red jacket and top hat greeted them with a stately, "Sirs."

"Hiya," Buck replied, with a smile that curled the edge of his mustache.

They went through the opulent marble lobby. Fresh flowers in a large, Grecian style urn decked a large round table. Carefully placed throughout the foyer were comfortable couches in a paisley pattern that brought out the colors of the green, marble flooring.

JD seemed to be taken his lush surroundings in stride, probably from being brought up in a mansion in Boston. Wilmington found the one thing that made any place home, the face of a smiling woman. She was at the front desk, wearing a gray jacket and her nametag read Rebecca.

"Becky, who do we see about a job?" Buck ran his hand along the cool granite counter.

"The Concierge," she dropped her eyes demurely and gestured with a nod at the nearby alcove.

"Thanks darlin'." He winked at her. "We'll be working together real soon."

JD pulled at Buck's jacket, prompting him to move instead of gazing at Becky's eyes. "Come on lover boy. We have a job." Dunne shot squint-eyed glare at his partner, "Remember?"

"You don't have it Junior." Buck brought his fingers up as if to poke the young agent in the eyes ala Three Stooges. JD batted them away as Wilmington explained. "Only Larabee can do the stare."

They were laughing as they reached the alcove. No one was occupying the desk so JD rang the bell in a quick staccato rhythm. Buck saw his friend flinch as the tall, thin man clamped his hand over JD's.

"Stop," he said, as Dunne pulled his hand away. "Can I help you?" He looked down his long nose, with what had to be a fake British accent.

Wilmington stepped forward and continued the same rhythm on the counter with his hands to annoy the snobby concierge. "Some jobs have been arranged for us. I'm Buck and this here is JD." The ATF had arranged the jobs through a hotel staffing company and the general manager of the hotel. All JD and Buck had to do was report for duty.

"Gentlemen, the help does not come through the front door." The man gave them a quick glance and began writing in a book. "Perhaps you are familiar with the term 'service entrance?'"

"Sorry," the young agent mumbled and shifted anxiously from foot to foot.

The Concierge did not look up. "The Saint Regis has a reputation to protect."

Buck was getting frustrated. He quickly replied. "Like we said, sorry."

The Concierge heard the curt tone in the other man's voice and gave Buck a watery smile. "In keeping up with the decorum which is expected of the Saint Regis staff-you'll have to get rid of that mustache." He made no motions with his hands; instead he brought his beady eyes down on them. "And you'll have to cut that hair."

"What?!" They both yelled. The few guests in the lobby, looked over at the commotion.

"Lower your voices," He said in an angry hiss, while still keeping a smile on his face for the guests. "I suggest you heed my advice. Hotel managers come and go. But the concierge stays, and that is what my name plate says." His hands lovingly caressed the nameplate, which read Parker Robert, Concierge.

"Do you know Chris Larabee," Buck said when he heard mention of the signage. "Never mind he wouldn't know a prr…" Wilmington was about to share some of his thoughts about the jerk, when JD stopped him.

"Buck!"

Robert went back to work writing in his book and gave them directions. "Go through those doors and Jacob will get you a uniform."

Both Buck and JD backed away from the desk, not wanting to turn their back on the enemy. Once they were a safe distance they made their way to the back of the hotel. "The mustache and the hair stay." Wilmington mumbled. "He just declared war, JD."
*******

"Josiah, if you can't get a grip then I'll have you switch places with Vin." Chris repeated his threat through his mike. The day had started off shitty and now Josiah was making it worse. Chris had not expected Amnesty International to begin protesting in front of the hotel. Luckily, Denver PD was kind enough to offer assistance and was successful at keeping the angry crowds at bay. Now, his problem was Josiah. Maybe this whole assignment had been a mistake.

"Hear that, Josiah." Nathan said through his microphone. "You know how Vin wants out of his detail."

From Chris's vantage point, one of the higher slopes of the course, he could see the large agent had clasped his hands in prayer. "I can't tell you how hard this is," Sanchez confessed. "It transcends religion." He took a deep breath. "I can do it."

The men all turned as they heard a golfer yell, "Fore."

"He has a terrible swing. You know I could go and give him a few pointers."

"No!" Chris was tired. The usually well-focussed agent had only one thought--golf. Sanchez had even gone so far as to pester the team leader to be near the green. Larabee had enough. He walked down to the agent from his watch point. "Go stand over there." He pointed to the place he just vacated. "Make sure everything is clear."

The large agent stalked away, mumbling into his head set. "Over there away from the green, the well-trimmed area of the gods."

"Yes, Josiah." Chris gritted out; making sure the man knew how perturbed his leader was.

"Okay," he continued his mumbling. "A little heaven on earth for myself. I don't get to play. It is always, 'Josiah, do this profile of an arson?' Never, 'Josiah, want to play a quick nine hole?' "

Chris looked up to the clear blue sky. He wasn't a praying man, but he could only hope the Emir did not plan to play golf everyday. If this continued then Larabee would not hesitate to pull Tanner in and send Sanchez with the princess. If Chris screwed up with the Emir then the whole team would get their heads cut off along side him. They were a team, and would go down together.

Chris waved at Nathan to show he had switched places. Jackson had reported their charge was in good health. He was only fifty and seemed to be very robust. His father just passed away at the age of seventy-six, so it seemed as if the Emir too would have a long life.

The man seemed nice enough. However, it was hard to think of him as nice when you knew he had people tortured by taking cables and beating their soles of their feet. That didn't concern Larabee as much as the possible illegal arms dealings. At least he was in a position to do something about that.

He saw Josiah looking intently at the northwest corner of the golf course and taking a few steps forward. Chris and Nathan saw it too. It was a flash of light coming off the muzzle of a high-powered rifle.

"Get down!" Chris yelled out, running forward as did Nathan. One of the Emir's guards tackled the Bahrainian leader. The shot rang out, landing with a thud in the green near the hole.

Chris and Nathan fired back. No one was on the golf course today except for the Emir and his party. Josiah had run after the shooter. He was gone for five minutes over the green dune. Larabee and Jackson checked on the Emir and his group and then headed out toward the same direction as Sanchez. They were halfway there when they saw the larger agent jogging back over the hill.

He was out of breath and panting by the time he reached his companions. Before the leader had a chance to ask Josiah bent down to relieve a cramp and commented breathlessly. "He got away."

"Damn!" Chris roughly holstered his Glock. The agents started to walk slowly back to the Emir, they knew Chris was upset at the loss of the sniper. Finally he gritted out, "Any ideas?"

"Lot of people are upset with the Emir." Josiah said, the slow pace of the walk had allowed him to recuperate from the run. "This guy had someone waiting and they were out of here."

"Little cocky of them to try here." Nathan replied, gesturing to the golf course which did not allow much cover to a gunman.

"Great cocky shits," Chris sighed. "Let's get him out of here." He gestured to the Emir and his friends who were walking around slightly disoriented and dazed at the attack. Nathan and Chris began to corral the men back to the golf carts. Once everyone was in, Larabee noticed one of his agents was missing.

He spotted Sanchez crouched down on the green hard at work at one particular spot. "Josiah, what the hell are you doing?" Chris harshly whispered to the agent as he came up behind him, ready to drag his ass back to headquarters.

"Tuffing up the green. Do you know how much it costs to repair a green?" Josiah replied as he stood up and examined his work.

The seething leader shook his head. The area was going to be torn up by forensics in moments. They wouldn't care how much it cost to replace a green. What was it with Josiah and golf? Chris was thankful he wouldn't have to find out. The Emir had decided he had enough golfing on this particular trip.

*******

Ezra and Vin met at the Saint Regis Hotel. They were to escort Her Highness to a local women's shelter where she was slated to give a speech about the conditions in her country and take a tour of the facility. She was running late this morning. Standish understood, a woman of that quality would take care in her appearance.

Vin, however, didn't. He glared at the door. Ezra believed his companion's poor mood was a combination of the assignment and the suit Agent Tanner was wearing. A plain, baggy fitting, blue ensemble, which the sharpshooter looked very uncomfortable in as he pulled the collar of his shirt again for the tenth time in a half an hour.

Finally she exited her hotel room. The extra time had been well spent. The under cover agent took in the sight of the princess dressed in a moss green, tailored, business suit. Her hair was pulled up and soft tendrils surrounded her face. Black, possibly Versace, sunglasses were perched over her nose. Vin took the lead out of the hotel. His eyes darting back and forth in careful scrutiny. Ezra flanked one side of the princess while her personal bodyguard, Abdullah was on her right.

Uneventfully, they stepped into the awaiting limousine. The three of them were relaxing in the rear of the limousine, while Kamilah's personal bodyguard was in the front seat with the driver. Ezra leaned back in the gray leather interior. He studied the princess. She had neatly typed index cards that she shuffled in a nervous manner. She was aloof. She hadn't paid any attention to her security team. But, Ezra understood royalty. Hadn't he gone to school with the son of the Earl of Highmore? You just needed the right approach.

"Your Highness, I meant to say earlier you have a lovely name." Standish had folded his manicured hands in a relaxed manner.

"Hmmm," the princess replied distractedly. Her brows were stitched together in concentration. She had finally removed the black sunglasses showing her deep brown eyes and soft brows.

"Kamilah, 'perfect one', fits you." Ezra leaned toward the Princess and waved his hand as if he was shocked at his forwardness. The movement caught the princess's attention. " I apologize for my boldness." He looked at her intently with his green eyes.

She smiled slightly, her brow relaxed. "You know Arabic?" She had a slightly accented voice. The princess stilled the cards, gripping them in her right hand.

"I traveled extensively in my youth, and was fortunate enough to have visited the Arab states." Mother had dragged him everywhere. It seemed there were few countries on and around the European continent that Ezra had not visited as a teenager. Pages had to be added to his passport due to the numerous stamps.

Tanner rolled his eyes in disgust at the undercover agent and took to gazing out the darkly tinted windows. Ezra blinked twice in quick succession. Obviously, Vin had assumed that only Buck knew how to flirt with a woman. Wilmington flirted with any woman. Standish was more discriminating and refined in his choices.

"I was allowed to see some of Europe," she replied, pushing a tendril of hair away from her cheek seductively, "but this is my first trip to the United States."

"We're here," Vin interrupted rudely as the car pulled up in front of the shelter.

Ezra exited from the right, and gentlemanly offered his hand to assist Kamilah in alighting from the vehicle. She gripped it unhesitatingly. Ezra smiled, knowing he had taken the right approach with this particular

A welcoming party was waiting for the group, and the princess was quickly escorted to the stage to give her speech. Abdullah situated himself near the stage while Vin and Ezra mingled along the fringe of the seated crowd of one hundred women.

Standish listened to the speech to glean more information so he could engage Her Highness in further conversation. She started off looking out to the crowd, and then shifted her brown eyes down momentarily.

"In the past five years the number of working women in Bahrain has increased 40%. We are making headway with the assistance of my father, the Emir. I come to you as a representative of The Child and Mother Welfare Association. We are trying to show my countrymen that Bahrain still has a problem of tolerating violence against women."

She spoke for ten minutes ending with a message of hope for the future of Bahrain and explaining she intended to learn from this particular shelter in Denver. Upon completion she received a warm round of applause.

The head of the shelter took the princess on an hour tour of the facility. During the tour Kamilah shook hands and spoke to the many residents of the shelter. Some looked at her defiantly. They had been through too much to care about some obscure royal girl from another country. Others tried to adjust their appearance, tuck a stray hair and neaten their clothes before shaking hands with a princess. Kamilah treated them all with respect and warmth, taking the term 'noblesse oblige' to the proper level.

Once her engagement was over the princess appeared to be more relaxed in the limousine. She looked out the window taking in the storefronts on Denver's Main Street as they drove by. "Starbucks," she said out loud.

Ezra crooked up his eyebrow in amusement. "Yes a coffee haven, Your Highness, although a touch on the commercial side."

"Oh," she looked down, and Standish saw the bottom lip jutting out. She was pouting.

Ezra recognized it as a ploy. She wanted to go to Starbucks. He gave in. "But, if you wish we can stop and find something for your fancy."

"Yes!" She practically bounced from her seat.

Vin proved to be a dampening agent however. "Ezra, I don't think that's such a good idea." He accentuated each word to tell Standish he was against the decision.

"You wouldn't." He knocked on the divider between the front and back seat and motioned for the driver to halt by holding up his hand. Standish opened the door as he glanced at his partner; "Do you want anything?"

"Other than to shoot you dead now? No," Vin smiled to the Princess and gave her a nod.

Ezra smirked back at the sharpshooter's barb.

It was lunchtime, but the line was insignificant. Ezra quickly made it back to the awaiting car with two grande lattes. Vin opened the car door from the inside and stepped out. His blue eyes glared at the undercover agent.

"Stop trying to burn your thoughts into my head, Agent Tanner."

Vin deftly removed one of the steaming coffees from Ezra's laden hands and brought the plastic cover to his lips. He took a large gulp of the scalding liquid and licked his lips.

"Should have made it stronger." Vin commented handing the coffee back to Standish. The undercover agent grimaced at the gesture.

"Keep it," the disgusted agent said to the sharpshooter. Ezra quickly got into the limousine, handing the white and green cup to Kamilah.

"Thank you, Agent Standish." She wrapped two hands around the latte.

Vin gave him a Cheshire cat grin as he took another sip from the stolen coffee. It didn't make a difference. She knew Ezra's name.

*******
JD reached over and hit the horn of Buck's Chevy. A shrill beeping echoed in the confines of the truck. The young agent had been waiting fifteen minutes for his housemate who had stayed in the apartment to pick up the ringing phone.

They were due to be at work at the hotel soon for the late afternoon shift. JD had shoved the garment bag containing his gray uniform in the area behind the seat. He checked to make sure it was where he placed it, when he turned back he could see Buck running through the entryway of their building.

"JD, I swear you need Garanimals." He said as he stepped into the truck and tossed his garment bag in the back. "You have my jacket."

Dunne shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, they look the same." Buck started up the engine. "Who was it on the phone?"

Wilmington didn't comment at first, but the young agent recognized the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "He wears a toupee."

"Who?" Dunne answered, puzzled at first. Buck's smile grew wide, and JD figured it out. "No," The damn concierge, JD smiled. The young agent didn't like people who made you feel like you were nothing. Dunne always found he had to prove himself due to his baby-face looks, and insensitive losers like the concierge got to him. "How did you find out?"

Buck screwed up his face and smirked. "I am a decorated ATF agent, JD. I investigated."

"No, really," Dunne chuckled, poking fun at his roommate.

The congenial agent sighed and gave away his source of information. "I know a girl who works for the Hair Club for Men."

Dunne reached out and tugged on a lock of Wilmington's dark hair.

"Get out, JD!" Buck slapped the young man's hand away. "This is natural."

Dunne thought about the hair that he found every morning in the shower drain. "Yeah, a rug wouldn't shed as much as you do."

"Is that a receding hairline JD?" Buck countered back.

"Ha, Ha," Dunne gave a forced laugh, and brushed the hair off his forehead. Was he losing his hair? Maybe he shouldn't wear the newsboy cap so much. He looked around realizing they were not on East Mississippi. "Where are we going? This isn't the way to the hotel."

"A little detour." He stopped a stop sign before continuing on. "Cheri, my little Hair
Club spy, is gonna slip me some pictures of Parker Robert without hair."

JD smiled, payback was a bitch. Through the windshield he saw the clock of city hall looming between the other buildings. "Gonna be late."

"Don't worry about it." Buck affectionately punched JD's shoulder. "Everything will still be there."

Buck was referring to the equipment the Secret Service had installed in the hotel rooms of the Bahrainian dignitaries. They had all sorts of listening devices, some had been found, others had not. There were also video cameras set up. Computers in a closet in the basement of the hotel recorded everything. JD and Buck just had to make sure that everything was operating properly on a daily basis. The old owners of the hotel had given permission for the bugs. The Secret Service had told the Bahrainian officials the videos were necessary for security, and although they were not happy, they seemed to have accepted the intrusion.
.
Every night a transcript was typed with the latest conversations. So far there were no leads on armament deals, but they could always hope for a slip.

JD liked the little toys they had at their disposal. Hopefully the ATF would get more clout and some of these gadgets would land on his desk. A guy could dream.

Cheri met them downstairs at her office building with a manila envelope. Once she secured a promise of a date from Buck she handed over the incriminating photos.

They walked through the service entrance of the hotel fifteen minutes after their shift had started. Since seeing the pictures they couldn't wipe the smiles off their faces.

"Gentlemen, I hope this is not going to be a pattern." The Concierge came out from a lurking corner, hoping to scare the two men.

JD almost laughed out loud when he heard the word, 'pattern.' Automatically his mind thought of male pattern baldness. He bit his lip so he wouldn't go into hysterics.

"Roberts, don't go tearing up the rug." Buck said and then bent over laughing.

"Excuse me?" Parker said as he watched the men practically fall on each other in mirth.

JD was taking in big breaths of air to bring himself under control. "Won't happen again, sir." Dunne finally managed to say.

Roberts gave them a skeptical look and went back to the lobby of the hotel. Once he was out of hearing range, JD asked his question. "What are we gonna do with this stuff?"

Buck had the envelope covered by the garment bag, which contained his uniform. Slyly he replied. "When the time is right, we'll strike."

*******

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