Taxes 4 - Die Hard with Pirates

With Bill's purloined badge, they all made it downstairs, and a bloodied but unbowed Warren Sgot got far enough out to make several calls. The paramedics and police arrived at once, Jill Norton first on the scene and first into the building, after trading incredulous glances with her ex. Security, and then more police, watched the exits, but no one else left. Jack heard snatches of conversation...
--
"Damndest thing," Bill, to Will... "Couldn't go sideways, and that crawlspace was small, even going straight up. Felt like I was going to have another one of those panic attacks, even after I got out, but..."

"Dad, you said you were over those..."

"Well, I thought I was, but my point is that seeing that thug on the floor with a gun held on him - it just lifted, somehow. I need to keep that mental image..."
--
"Little Jimmy..." One of the Texas contingent...

"C'mon, Monty, it's Greg now. I'm gonna get no end of crap..."

"Whatever, Greggo. She got a sister?"
--
"Seems like a dream, but it wasn't, was it?" Gibson, to Liz. "I'm really...I was really..."

"It's real, Josh. You were a real pirate, back in the day. And you were again today, too."

"Well, shiver me timbers."
--
Sobbing...light, feminine. Jack's head turned, found Annie Mae. He walked to her.

"Annie?" And received a surprise.

"Nay, Captain Sparrow."

The captain came forth, just a bit, summoned by a pirateteartears. Anamaria stared up at him, sparkling beads on her cheeks.

"Ah, lass..." He swung an arm around her. "What could make my strong Ana cry so?"

"Jack..." and her damp face was transfixed with wonder. "Jack, I've kin now."

"Ana?"

"D'ye understand? Me father died when I was four, me mum died birthing me last sister, and all me sisters died babes or a-borning. D'ye remember?"

"I suppose...I suppose I knew that, but so few of us had kin that chose that life...I never marked it."

"But here, now - they live yet, Jack! I've a mother and father, and three sisters, and a husband, and two beautiful children...such gifts I've been given in this lifetime, Jack. Such treasure." She smiled softly through the tears. "'Tis an embarrassment of riches, truly. I love them all, but I don't think I appreciate them as I should. That...oh, that will change." Sookeooked up and dried her eyes. "But it's me that must change for the time being, as me - my sister's here. Helen! Hey, Helen, I'm over here! I'm okay!"

Jack turned, and the cup of cocoa from emergency services very nearly hit the floor. Approaching was a statuesque, athletic black woman with light tan braids to the middle of her back.

He knew her. Sparrow knew her better. And had seen much more of her.

//Honey!?//

Oh, this wasn't awkward at all.

He braced himself, as he had an idea that once Annie Mae knew he'd met her sister in a professional capacity, both selves would likely be united in doing him grievous bodily harm. Then the woman was reaching out...to shake his hand.

"Hi," she said slowly, "I'm Helen MartAnniAnnie Mae's sister. I_don't_think_we've_met."

"No..." Jack replied. "I'd remember, trust me." And he flashed her one of Sparrow's conspiratorial smiles. Looking away from Annie for an instant, Honey - Helen - winked. Then they shifted,movemoved away, and the sisters closed ranks. "...Tyler's coming, I was just a little closer..."

A moment later, he was face to face with Greg Norton.

Or, was he?

Greg walked away from the crowd, looking back at Jack, and Byrd followed. He must have marked Jack's inquisitive look, for he began, "You probably want to know who you're talking to, don't you?"

Jack shrugged.

"Well, when I figure it out, I'll let you know." He took a dereatreath. "God. I...this is just...so many things make *sense* now, Jack, I ..."

"I know. Been there, mate. Maybe I'm still there." Accents and personalities ran fluid.

Greg turned to him with that ironic quirk of a smile. "Y'know, I'll most likely hate y' again tomorrow anyhow. Except...I'm not entirely certain I ever did. I think, perhaps, I've mken ken for hatred what is instead a profound annoyance." He'd ended the sentence as James Norrington, and he seemed to notice. "I...we...gotta get a handle on this thing."

"It gets easier," Jack advised. "You'll work it out. Liz ..."

Entirely Norrington as he asked, eyes intense, "How long has Elizabeth been waiting for me?"

He answered as Sparrow. "Not long, mate. Few weeks, that's all."

"'Course. Figures. The day we got engaged. Shoulda figured I was outnumbered." His eyes left Jack's, staring into the distance. "I keep wandering off on these tangents...Momma always told me I had an old soul. She used to paint my face for the Day of the Dead, and when I'd go out and run around the carnivals, I'd feel this presence with me. Someone on the edge of my vision, out of the corner of my eye. Now I finally know. But it's so damn *strange.*"

"You'll get it," Jack repeated. "Just...a little advice. If anyone ever suggests past-life regression...don't."

"My old adversary," replied the Commodore. "You always told me more truth than ever I credited. I recall the day I realized that not only were you truly rooting for me the whole time, but why, exactly, that was." He looked to Will, talking quietly with his father, and occasionally looking in their direction. Jack followed his gaze. Will caught Jack's eye for just an instant, and a smile lit his face. It was breathtaking.

"Aye," Jack whispered.

Then Jill Norton crossed his line of sight, and the croggled look on Greg's face said he'd remembered who she used to be.

Oh, this definitely had possibilities. A grin stole across Jack's face, then abated as another officer walked Pintoli out behind her.

"Knew you wouldn't shoot," Greg remarked.

"No, you didn't..."

"I'm ex-Army from Texas and you're an accountant. Which of us do you think is quicker on the trigger?"

"Oh. Guess you did." Jack didn't mention that he'd been a pirate at the time - Sparrow likely was a quicker draw...with a flintlock pistol. Change of subject..."Greg, something's bugging me, big-time. They had a distraction going in - how were they going to get out? Rick left out the front door, but nobody's found Ragetti, and I've been watching. They had to have a way to get everyone out nce.nce..."

He glanced at the van. Dogs were circling, and the bomb squad had established a wide perimeter.

"Shit...they'd better clear out of there..."

He stood, began to walk to Jill, and the van's lights went on. It revved, reversed...the bomb squad scattered, and the van took off with a squeal. Down the road, dodging police cars, it wove erratically, careening dangerously close to a cliff...

And then off of it.

The explosion rattled windows and set off car alarms - at least twenty.

"Robbie! No!" Joey cried, collapsing in the arms of the officer that held him.

"Give it up, mate," Jack whispered in his ear, from right behind. "We both know there wasn't anyone in that van."

Pintoli straightened immediately, glaring back. "How'd you know?"

Jack didn't bother to answer, merely turning to Jill. "Tunnels," he said urgently. "It's the only option left. They've got to have tunnels out to a storm drain, a beach, something! You've got dogs..."

"They're bomb dogs, Jack. But I do have cadets. Yo, cadets!"

* * *

By the time the trainees found the tunnels, Robbie was long gone.

As soon as the van finished its wild ride, he tossed the remote control into his silver case, walked out of the twenty-foot pipe, and got into one of three boats. Considering his colleagues' tardiness to this point, he didn’t think the others would get any use.

Robbie gunned the motor. Their yacht was just offshore, and he'd wait the requisite time before leaving, but not a second longer. He looked up the cliff.

"I'll get you out, Joey. Somehow. Even if I have to track my sources down, the sneaky, scary bastards. I'll find them and I'll make them help me. I promise, mate. I promise."

* * *

Eventually the paramedics found Brown stable enough to move - Maroney was at the hospital long-since, in surgery to reattach his hand. The police finished their interviews, and all began to disperse.

Norton watched the process, as he stood by Swan's side, Liz with her arm reaching up and around his shoulder, her head on his chest.

"My love," the new-old half of him murmured, and thrilled to see Elizabeth shining in her eyes. Then the commodore yielded to the cowboy, as there was work to be done.

"Back in the building ...you said there was more going on here, sir. What'd you mean?"

"This attack. I read about this sort of thing in the Wall Street Journal - office takeovers, straight out of Die Hard, but on a smaller scale. Moscow, Munich, Rio de Janeiro. The reporter had plenty of theories, but I noticed some commonalities on my own. In one way or another, each company that was attacked competed with branches of several big companies, but..."

Greg felt Liz turn her head, look at her father. "Ross...?"

"Right. After each attack, there was a steady drain of talent from each company - fears for safety, unpleasant associations, it's not hard to see why...anyway. Mostly, the people went to one particular firm. Eden Corp. - Hernando Ross's baby. His divisions gorongronger, the smaller guys got weaker - he took over the German corporation last year."

"That's...//...diabolical...// the Commodore murmured, though not out loud this time.

"Yeah. But it's not happening here." Steel in Swan's voice, machete-sharp. "I know who I want to keep, and I'm going to offer them the moon if I have to."

Which brought Greg to something he'd been avoiding, something he could not put off any longer. He felt Norrington's quiet support - the man knew duty, he *was* duty, which suggested something of Greg...but all that navel-gazing had to be later. God knew, he might have plenty of time.

"Liz," Greg said, ezinezing her shoulder, "Can you take Monty and J.B. back to my place? This is a pretty big deal, security-wise, and I think I'm gonna be here awhile."

She wasn't fooled, putting a hand on his face and turning it to hers. "Greg, don't you dare."

"Liz, I just...I..."

"Fine, but we're not going anywhere. I'm going to be over with your brothers - we'll go together."

She disengaged, turned to leave, and fixed her father with a glare.

"Don't you dare either, Dad."

Then she was gone, and it was time to step up.

"Sir, I think that I ought to offer my resignation."

* * *

None of them were quite resigned to going back to Will's apartment. All the three were energized, fingertips tingling, eyes too wide. Especially Jack. They went instead for an early dinner. As they walked into the restaurant, Bill said, slowly, "I know you, you know?"

A breath of hope... Will seemed to catch it as he watched his father closely.

"You were in one of my classes! You were one of the brightest undergrads I ever taught." A considering look. "Even if you were drunk or high half the time."

"I resemble that remark." Not Bootstrap after all, but *that* professor... "My god, you're right. About me being there - " he added, but saw Bill smile, if still consideringly.

//...Damn. How could I forget...Professor Smith. I had the most insane crush on him...//

An answering chord from the pirate within. Mad desire mellowing into friendship, as the other man willed it so. He remembered.

"And unless I'm wrong, Gibson was one of my grad students at the time. I don't know if you'd know this, but I was in on some of the better gags you all pulled - mostly behind the scenes, though."

"Ships passing in the night, I guess."

Well. This was working out much better than the last time he'd reunited with Bill in his capacity as Will's father.

He was still locking the bedroom door tonight.

Then Jack caught movement out of the corner of his eye. "Hold on," he murmurand and walked back to the car.

A black, tan-masked muzzle tapped on the glass. Jack opened the door and cracked the window.

"Sorry."

"Squeak!"

* * *

"This shouldn't have happened, sir," Greg continued. "It was on my watch. I can have the letter on your desk by-"

"Oh, cut it out," Swan replied, and Greg blinked. "If I wanted your resignation, I'd've asked for it by now. Conspiracies aside, if this mess is anyone's fault beyond the crooks involved, it's mine. I've been playing things too close to the vest again, and I think maybe it's finally bit me on the ass."

Greg waited, saying nothing, and getting the distinct impression he wasn't at all going to like what came next.

"They had an inside man, Greg. I'm certain of it."

"Do you know who?"

"I have one or two ideas. Nothing confirmed. But I'll wager anything you could name," just the barest hint of Weatherby, there, "that it's the same man who's been siphoning away a good bit of the money we should have been paying in taxes for the last few years."

Greg whipped his head around to stare at his boss. Oddly enough, it was the Commodore who felt more betrayed, though he stayed out of it for now.

"Someone came directly to me several months ago," Warren continued, "with hints. Suspicions. Enough to make me look into things just a bit, and come up with suspicions of my own. But it was all incredibly subtle and peiousious. I had no proof, and I needed the absolute best person for the job. So I tipped off the IRS with enough information to ensure they'd do an audit, and then I pulled all the strings I had to make sure we got Jack Byrd. Sneakiest auditor I'd ever heard of...but I *had* heard of him. Once that process started, you had limited access to our financial records, which was the only place there was even a hint of malfeasance, 'till now. All the government protocols slid into place, and I couldn't admit a thing to anyone, not even L"
"

"Since, if you admitted you knew and didn't tell anyone, you might be found partially liable. Or even complicit," Greg finished for him. "Because there's no way now to prove how much you knew or how long you knew it. And now, there's no way to tell about me, either."

"So you see now why I didn't want to involve you if I didn't have to. You're good, Greg, when I'm not tying your hands, but as far as financial investigations go, and following the money, Jack Byrd is the best there is. It had to be him, him and his team. You're a bright man, but our embezzler's smart, too. I needed someone..."

"...savvy?" Greg sighed. "'Sometimes, piracy can be the right course,'" he quoted. "Guess y' can take your own advice."

"Guess so." He looked at Greg, intensity in those patrician features. "You know that if I'd put it together...if I'd had the slightest idea that someone might get hurt..."

Sometimes, duty meant trust. Together, they chose to believe. "I know, sir."

* * *