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Grace Notes III: The Tax-Man Cometh
A Human Target fanfic
by rhymeswithhope
FBI Agent Emma Barnes slid the pizza into the middle of the conference room table and took a seat with a sigh.
“Rough day?” Winston looked up from his paperwork, which had piled up around him like snowdrifts.
“The usual.” Barnes pinched the bridge of her nose and rolled her shoulders to loosen them up. “Regardless of what Chance told you, I did not take the assignment in Oakland in order to ‘stalk’ him.”
Winston snorted and tapped at the calculator. “If Chance didn’t want to be stalked, you wouldn’t see him.” He tucked his pencil behind his ear and reached for the pizza.
“Oh, that’s a comforting thought.” She grabbed a slice and sank her teeth into the thick cheese with a little sigh of pleasure. “So, Winston, I’m curious about something.”
“Just one thing?”
“Well. One at the moment.”
“I reserve the right to plead the Fifth.”
She gave him her best ingratiating smile. “I was wondering, how did you get to be the den mother of this Boy Scout troop from Hell? I mean, you seem so responsible. So grown up. So . . .”
“So not suicidally deranged?” He rescued a stray pepperoni. “That is a long story. Too long for this evening. I’ve got taxes to do.”
“You pay taxes?”
“We are a legally incorporated entity of the State of California. That, and even Guerrero has no interest in going toe-to-toe with the IRS.” He squinted at a piece of paper, held it to the light, and squinted again. “This receipt has blood on it.”
“I hope your shots are up to date.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. “And what the hell is this? A receipt for a jackhammer rental? When did Chance need a jackhammer?”
The office door slammed shut, and Chance appeared. “The jackhammer? Oh, we were running a Noah’s Ark.”
“The Noah’s Ark doesn’t require use of a jackhammer.” When Chance reached for the pizza, Winston slammed his hand down on the box lid. “I told you, we cannot pad these expenses. Do you want to explain to some cranky, underpaid government accountant just why you thought it necessary to bring a jackhammer on a hostage rescue?”
“That does sound kind of odd, doesn’t it?” Chance gave Barnes a sidelong grin. “It was necessary, though. Diversion.”
“Bullshit.” Winston was erasing madly. “You just always wanted to try one.”
“Nah, that was Guerrero. I wanted the steam roller. He said it was ‘excessive.’”
“I’m shocked to hear that,” Barnes cut in. “I got the pizza. What was it you wanted?”
“Just pizza.” By that time, Chance had a slice in each hand, and was trying to corral a stray string of cheese with his tongue. “You wanna watch a movie?”
“I’ve got to get back to the office.”
“Too bad. Thanks for the pizza.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She nodded at Winston. “Thanks for talking. I liked your stories.”
“You told her stories? What stories?”
Winston and Barnes shared a smile.
“C’mon! I want to know what stories you told her. I hope they were good stories. They were good, right?”
Winston, still smiling, went back to his paperwork. Chance trailed Barnes to the door. “Why are you two smiling? What did he tell you?”
As Barnes let herself out of the office, she heard Winston yell, “Chance! Why in the name of all that’s holy do we have a receipt for a cotton candy machine and a camel?”
[end]