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Disclaimer: See front page.
"You look like hell. Weren't you able to get back to sleep?" Blair asked from his position at the stove as Jim came down the stairs buttoning a shirt.
"Good morning to you, too."
"Sorry. Morning, Jim," the grad student said, waiting expectantly.
Jim sat down at the table where Blair had already set his mug full of coffee and a glass of orange juice. "Yeah, I slept, but I think it was all dreams."
"More bad ones? I didn't hear you." Blair scooped eggs, sausages, and toast onto two plates, then carried them to the table.
Jim shrugged, picking up his fork and digging into his breakfast. "Something I could have done without, but not particularly bad."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Nothing really to talk about. It was just more stuff about the crash. Mainly Sarris and Crouse. How I tried to help them before they died."
"What did you do?"
Jim shrugged again. "There wasn't much I could do. Sarris was bleeding to death internally, and Crouse had a severe head injury. He lost consciousness before Ben died, then passed away about an hour after."
Blair took a sip of his orange juice, surprised by his partner's openness. "You seem unusually--I don't know--serene about it all?"
Jim looked up at him, nodding slightly. "Yeah, I guess. I feel--relieved somehow. Like after remembering what I did for Andersen, the rest didn't seem so--threatening I suppose."
"That's good, man. That probably means you're finally starting to deal with what happened. Maybe you're finally letting go of some of the guilt that wasn't yours to begin with."
The detective smiled, getting up from his chair. "Maybe. You finished?"
Blair nodded and Jim took their plates to the kitchen.
"You coming in this morning?" Ellison asked.
"Yeah."
May 20, ThursdayBlair sighed and glanced up at the clock. 7:12 AM. He shivered involuntarily, and not entirely from the early morning chill in the air. He'd been at his office for almost an hour already. Why? Because he'd finally found someone willing to proctor his last final later in the morning, but the tradeoff had been promising to finish grading her own finals. Blair had accepted the terms without hesitation. Cindy was half-way through grading already, and her tests were multiple choice and short answer questions. He'd figured he'd come in early to finish the grading and be done in time to spend the majority of the day with Jim. Blair shivered again. He hadn't counted on the deja vu he was feeling, however.
Tossing his pen down, Blair leaned back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. The last few days had been nerve-wracking. Despite the efforts of Major Crime, the FBI, Stoltz, and now the Military Police because Turnbow was officially AWOL, there had been no further sign of Turnbow or Widden. With each day Widden remained missing, the chances of finding him alive dwindled. Blair knew that fact alone was weighing heavily on Jim's mind. The only bright spot in all of this was that the nightmares seemed to have stopped, or at least weren't as traumatic as they had been. Whatever the reason, Jim was getting more sleep. Blair had the feeling his friend was going to need every ounce of that rest. Just as he had three days ago, the Guide had the distinct impression something bad was going to happen, and very soon. The shiver that overtook him rattled his teeth with its intensity. He frowned.
Even if they didn't have the coin situation to deal with, Blair knew that this day was going to be especially hard for both of them. Yet another reason he wanted--needed--to stick close to Jim. Today marked the day he had died at the hands of Alex Barnes, thief, terrorist, and rival sentinel.
Blair shook himself out of the unpleasant memory, and resolutely shoved it aside. Picking up his pen, he concentrated on grading. If he pushed, he could have the rest of the tests graded in under an hour, then he could get out of here.
He was just marking the score on the last test when he felt it. The Sentinel needed the Guide, now! Blair scribbled a note for Cindy, scooped up the pile of bluebooks and dumped them in his out box. Quickly stuffing a few items into his backpack, he grabbed his jacket and prepared to leave. The cord between them was practically humming in his head.
"Simon!" Blair exclaimed in surprise, brought up short by the captain's appearance in his doorway.
"Sandburg, what...? Don't look so frightened. Jim's fine."
"Then why are you here?"
"I came to pick you up. We've got a hostage situation. Jim's on his way there now."
"Alone?"
Banks scowled. "No. Why do you think I'm here? Now, let's go."
Blair didn't have to be told twice. He ushered the captain out of the office, and pulled the door shut behind them.
"So, what's the story?" the observer asked once they were in the car.
Simon sighed, looking worried. "The story is, Jim called me. Told me there's some kind of hostage situation at the North Cascade airstrip."
"Turnbow," Blair said with a nod.
"We don't know that yet, Sandburg."
"Come on, Simon. Who else could it be?"
"You don't really want me to answer that, do you?" Simon cast him a knowing look. "But, yeah, it's probably Turnbow."
"Did Jim say anything else? How'd he find out about it? Are the FBI and MPs converging there, too?"
The captain held up his hand to forestall the flow of words. "Jim said a man called him at the loft, said he had a valuable hostage, and if we wanted her to get out of this alive, Jim would come. Right now, just Major Crime is involved. Once we assess the situation, we'll call in the others."
"Not good, man. Not good."
"Why, other than the fact we have a hostage situation on our hands?"
"The guy just told Jim to come or else?"
Simon nodded.
"Doesn't that strike you as odd?"
Banks scowled. "Why should it?"
"Come on, Simon. Think about it. There was no stipulation to come alone? You know, 'Come alone, if I see your cop buddies or anyone else, I'll waste her.' kind of warnings?"
"Now that you bring it up, Jim didn't say. I just figured it was implied, but knew he'd call me regardless."
"Yeah, but he didn't tell you not to call Stoltz or the FBI task force, did he?"
The captain shook his head, his expression turning fearful.
Blair gazed at the large man knowingly. "Cold, Simon. This guy is one cold, cunning, cocky son of a bitch. He must be pretty confident he holds all the cards if he didn't warn Jim not to bring backup."
Simon ran a hand over his mouth. "I hope you're wrong, Blair. I sincerely hope you're wrong."
Blair nodded, pursing his lips as he turned his eyes to the front. A few minutes of silence passed. "What else?"
The captain glanced at his passenger. "What?"
"There's something else bothering you, besides this hostage situation we both know is a set up."
The big man looked like he was going to deny the charge, but relented after another glance at Blair. Sighing, he said, "I don't know, really. Jim sounded strange. Remote. Reminded me of what he was like when he came out of Vice."
"Remote? That doesn't sound good."
Simon nodded once. "I got the feeling he wasn't telling me everything."
Blair snorted. "Not like that hasn't happened before."
Banks gave the observer a fierce glare, but a moment later his expression softened. Blair smiled slightly. They both knew it was true.
Simon cleared his throat and changed the uncomfortable subject. "So, what had you in such a rush? You looked like you were in a hurry to get somewhere until you saw me."
Blair nodded. "We're doing it."
"Come again?"
"A few minutes before you showed up, I got this strong urge that I needed to get to Jim, that he needed--needs me. We're answering that urge."
"Damn, I don't know why I ask. Sandburg, are you telling me this is some kind of sentinel thing?"
"What? The situation? Hardly. The situation is something from Jim's military past and has little or nothing to do with him being a sentinel. But what I'm feeling is definitely a Sentinel-Guide thing." Blair paused, then rushed on. "We've always had a kind of bond, but ever since the Alex mess we've had this--connection. I know when he needs me. Sometimes it's just a faint tugging, other times it's an all out alarm. Right now it's virtually screaming 'the Sentinel needs his Guide'."
"And Jim knows this, too?" Simon asked skeptically.
Blair grinned. "Oh, Jim knows it. He even acknowledges it, but he won't think about it unless forced to. However, he no longer ignores it either."
The captain shook his head, and concentrated on driving. Several minutes passed. Finally, with a softly muttered oath, Simon reached for the mike and radioed dispatch.
Blair watched and listened silently as Simon ordered the dispatcher to contact Major Stoltz and their liaison with the FBI task force. When the captain put the mike back moments later, Blair met the big man's gaze and nodded slightly.
The rest of the journey was quiet, each man lost in his own musings. Each man worried about what his friend might be walking into, both convinced that whatever it was, it wasn't going to end easily or prettily. Blair sent up a silent prayer of thanks that in the last few days, Jim had achieved some small degree of peace and been able to sleep. That would mean his Sentinel would have a fighting chance against whatever was in store.
Fifteen minutes later, Simon pulled through the gates of North Cascade's abandoned airstrip. It was just a small collection of metal buildings and two landing strips. The place seemed deserted. The captain allowed the big sedan to creep along as they approached the hangar buildings. They rounded a curve and Blair's gasp echoed Simon's as the car stopped.
"Oh, shit," Simon murmured.
"My sentiments exactly," Blair said softly, staring out the windshield. About fifty yards away, a big, black helicopter sat placidly on the grassy wide-open airfield. Its sleek lines conveyed power and swiftness, and though there was no evidence of any armament, the observer had no doubt that the thing packed a lethal punch. Not taking his eyes off the machine, he followed Simon's example and eased himself out of the car. He joined the other man at the front of the vehicle, still staring.
"I guess any doubts about there being hostages just went out the window, huh?"
Simon only nodded, eyes never leaving the helicopter.
Suspended in the open crew door via a parachute harness and looking absolutely terrified was an eleven or twelve-year-old girl. She was gagged. Her ankles were tied or taped together, and her hands had been bound to the release rings on the harness. If she attempted to move her arms she'd take a fifteen-foot drop straight down.
Blair tore his eyes away from the frightening scene and scanned the area. "Where's Jim? I don't see the truck anywhere."
Simon glanced around, shaking his head. "I don't either. Damn. Where the hell could he be?"
Just then they heard tires crunch on the gravel and turned to see Jim's familiar blue and white Ford coming toward them. The truck pulled up beside them. Blair could see his partner staring at the captive girl, his jaw muscle clearly telegraphing his anger. Keeping his head down, Blair moved to the truck as Ellison cut the engine and stepped silently from the cab. The observer's mouth fell open when he got a good look at him. He was shocked and impressed at the same time, because he'd never expected to see this Jim Ellison in person.
Standing before him was a poster boy for the U.S. Army. The man was wearing a set of green Army fatigues, complete with rank and insignia. As Blair stared at his friend, Jim reached back into the truck and retrieved something. That something turned out to be a green beret that the former Ranger carefully situated on his head.
"Jim? What's this?" Blair waved his hand at his friend's attire.
By now Simon had joined them.
"It was part of the terms. Turnbow told me to come in uniform or not bother coming at all because he'd kill the little girl."
"Terms?" Simon questioned. "Just what else have you agreed to, Ellison?"
Jim returned the cool brown gaze steadily. "Nothing yet, sir. He stipulated that I had to come wearing my BDUs, and forego the cap for the beret. No weapons allowed other than my fighting knife."
Simon did not look happy. "We're talking hostage exchange here, aren't we?"
"Yes, sir, I believe so."
"And you expect me to let you do it?"
"I doubt that we'll have a choice, sir. Look at where he's positioned himself. He's out in the open. No one can sneak up on him." Jim paused to let his eyesight zoom in on the ground around the helicopter. "He has land mines covering the perimeter all the way around the Black Hawk. There appears to be only one clear path, which leads straight to the crew door and the girl. There's another mine directly beneath her. And, that's not all. There's an electrical barrier surrounding the whole thing, probably rigged to set off the mines if it's breached."
"Damn," Simon swore softly.
"Jim, can you tell if Turnbow's in the chopper? Is the girl all right?" Blair asked.
The Sentinel turned his attention back to the helicopter, letting his sight and hearing expand. "Turnbow and another man are near the cockpit. The girl appears unhurt. Frightened and crying, but she's okay." He paused, turning up his hearing a little more. "I hear three other heartbeats--toward the back."
"More men with Turnbow?"
Jim shrugged, unsure. "They're not moving, and they seem close together."
Before anything else could be said, the three men turned at the approach of vehicles. Blair picked out the sedan associated with their local FBI guys, and Major Stoltz's rental. He wasn't too surprised to see Taggert, Rafe and Brown following the two SWAT trucks. Simon went to direct the sudden influx of traffic.
While the captain was busy, Blair looked up at his partner. He took in the granite jaw and icy-blue eyes. Nothing he hadn't seen before when they were after a bad guy, but somehow Jim seemed different. Colder, more remote. "Jim?" The detective turned his gaze down to Blair, and for a moment his expression softened. "We'll get her out of there safe, Jim."
Ellison smiled slightly, raising a hand to rest lightly on Blair's shoulder. "Yeah, Chief. We're going to get her out of there safe. And the others, too." The smile faded as he lowered his hand, returning his gaze to the chopper. Blair had no desire to get used to the impassive visage that was once again on display.
"So, what's BDU stand for?" Blair asked, trying to distract his partner from the grim path his thoughts seemed to be taking.
Jim glanced at him again. "Battle Dress Uniform."
"Oh. Makes sense." There was a moment of silence as Blair watched his partner watch the helicopter. "You're really going to do it, aren't you?"
Jim didn't answer.
"You already know he's going to demand you for the little girl, and you're going to do it. Jim, that's suicide!"
The larger man finally turned his attention back to his partner, his eyes showing a glimmer of the anguish he was feeling. "What else do you want me to do, Blair? If there's no other way to get her out of there, I'm going to take it. I couldn't live at her expense. She's just a little girl."
Blair swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. "I know, Jim."
Jim lifted a hand to Blair's shoulder again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Ellison turned his attention toward an approaching car bearing the markings of a Cascade police unit, just as a voice through a bullhorn declared, "This is the Cascade Police Department--" After an initial flinch at the unexpected noise, the Sentinel ignored what was being said, watching the new arrival instead. The unit had a passenger.
"Mother, you suppose?" Blair asked, watching as an older woman was helped from the vehicle.
"Elizabeth!" The woman screamed.
Blair felt his partner stiffen, and looked at him questioningly.
"Grandmother," Jim said distractedly, making a beeline for the distraught woman.
"Wha--?" Confused, Blair hurried after his partner.
"Joyce?"
The lady in question tore her eyes from the hostage girl and looked at Jim. Relief flooded her features.
"Captain Ellison! Oh, thank God!" the woman exclaimed, hugging herself as tears trickled from her eyes.
Jim gulped, continuing to gaze at her. "That's Elizabeth?"
Joyce nodded miserably. "S--someone took her from school yesterday. I thought--I thought...."
"Shh, shh," Jim murmured, gathering the distraught woman to him in a firm embrace. "It'll be all right, Joyce. We'll get her out of this unharmed. Shh."
"I'm sorry, Captain. It's just--Bob's gone, Lisa's gone, David's gone. My granddaughter is all I have left." Sobs pulled at the woman's composure, and Jim held her tighter.
"It'll be all right," Jim whispered, his own voice thick with emotion.
Blair met his partner's suspiciously bright gaze over Joyce's head, silently questioning. When she had calmed, Jim gently released her, turning toward one of the uniforms. He gave the man quiet instructions, then with one last encouraging pat for the woman, he moved to Blair's side.
"Jim, what's going on? Who is that?" Simon inquired, before the shorter man could open his mouth.
Jim's gaze never wavered from Blair's. "Her name is Joyce Crouse. She was the wife of my XO in Peru. That's her granddaughter up there."
Complete silence followed that statement.
"What's the rest of it, Jim?" Blair asked softly.
Jim swallowed. "Their daughter and her husband were killed in a car accident just a few months before Bob and I went to Peru. They had a four-month-old baby. Bob was going to retire after Peru and help his wife raise their granddaughter. Their son David was killed in Desert Storm." He paused, then added even more quietly. "In four years' time, Joyce suffered three painful losses. I'm not about to let her suffer another."
Blair nodded, answering his partner's silent plea for support, for understanding. He did understand, and he would support Jim's decision, but he didn't have to like it.
Simon swore, garnering the two men's attention. He glared at Ellison, and it was obvious he knew what his detective was thinking. "Dammit, Jim...." The protest died in his throat. Instead he jerked his head toward the SWAT command center. "Turnbow wants to talk to you."
Jim nodded, and headed for the SWAT truck. Before Blair could follow, Simon put a staying hand on his arm. He looked up into the captain's worried face. "He's going through with it, isn't he? He's planning to give himself to Turnbow, to free the girl."
Blair nodded. "Yes, Captain. It's the only thing he can do." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly, and hurried to catch up with his partner.
"Dammit, Sandburg. There's no way of telling if Turnbow will let the girl go once Jim's in his clutches," Simon said in his ear, matching his stride.
"Don't you think I know that?" Blair snapped. Quickly calming himself, he continued more quietly, "Jim is pretty sure he'll let Elizabeth go. He has to do this."
Simon sighed heavily, but said no more. They reached Jim's side just as the detective picked up the handset.
"Ellison."
"Hello, Captain. I see the uniform still fits after ten-plus years."
"Cut to the chase, Turnbow."
"Patience, Captain." The disembodied voice paused. "I suppose you're wondering why I didn't warn you to leave your cop friends behind."
"The thought had crossed my mind."
"Two reasons. One, I knew you wouldn't, or at least you'd tell your police captain regardless of what I said. Two, I want your friends to hear what I have to say, before I take you in exchange for the girl."
Jim's jaw twitched. "We're listening."
"Listen up folks!" Turnbow said. "Your decorated police officer is a traitor! A traitor to his country, a traitor to his oath, a traitor to his team. That man you see before you, proudly wearing the symbol of the Green Berets, is a traitor! More than ten years ago, he led a team on an anti-insurgency mission into Peru. His team died! You know how? He killed them, that's how. You want to know why? Because he was working for a corrupt Colonel who was running drugs out of South America! The mission was bogus, a ploy to kill off any suspicious parties. I know what the official report says. The helicopter crashed, killing seven men. Ask yourselves, why did Ellison survive? Because he knew it was going to crash. He knew, and was prepared, that's why!"
"No," Jim breathed.
Blair was instantly beside him, his hand on his partner's elbow. "Jim, you know it's not true. Everybody here knows it's not true. Remember your dreams, man. You remember what happened. Hold on to that. You know the truth, not Turnbow."
Jim nodded slightly, but he looked shaken.
"Jim, stay with me, man. It's not true. You know it's not true. The chopper was shot down. You had no way of knowing. Remember, Oliver tried having you killed two years ago, because you figured out what he was doing in South America." Blair argued until he felt Jim straighten, and knew his friend was starting to believe him. The knot of tension in Blair's stomach eased.
"Here's the deal, Ellison. You and that long-haired friend of yours can come get the girl. You will get aboard and release the girl, lowering her to your partner, who will take her back to her anxious grandma. After that, we'll take a little ride. Just like old times, huh, Captain?" Turnbow laughed. "Oh, and in case anyone has any bright ideas of staging a rescue of the girl, nix them. The ground is booby-trapped. There's only one way in or out and we have that covered. And Ellison, if you slip, or your friend drops the girl, they'll both meet their maker in very messy pieces. Understood?"
"What guarantee do we have that you won't just shoot them once you have me?"
"There is no guarantee, other than my word. You do everything like you're supposed to, and they'll be unharmed. I want you Ellison, I don't care about anybody else. Oh, for added incentive and insurance that your SWAT friends don't try to shoot us down, you'll be interested to know that I have three other hostages in here. I believe you'll recognize the name of one of them. Widden."
Simon cursed.
"Well, I guess we know for sure that Widden's still alive," Blair said softly.
"When can we get the girl?"
"Jim!" Simon exclaimed.
"I'll give you ten minutes to prepare. Oh, and Captain, prepare for recon."
"Acknowledged." Jim set the mike down, his shoulders slumping.
"Ellison," Simon growled.
Jim turned to face his superior. "What do you want me to do, sir? I'm not willing to risk that little girl's life or the other hostages. Turnbow has already proven he has no qualms about murdering."
"And you're just going to deliver yourself into his hands?"
"What choice do we have? Say the SWAT team was able to take out Turnbow; his partner would kill the girl before Turnbow hit the ground. If, by chance, both men were taken out, there's still the matter of the electrified field to deal with, plus any other little surprises he could have set up."
"All right, we'll do it your way." With a resigned sigh, Simon motioned them to leave.
"Come on, Chief. We've got less than eight minutes left," Jim said, heading for his truck.
"What'd he mean by recon?" Blair asked, hurrying to keep up with his partner.
"That was his way of telling me we were going on a mission."
Blair was confused by this remark, but he didn't press for a clearer answer. Instead, he watched as Jim opened the passenger side door of the truck and pulled out a small metal case. When it was opened, it revealed what Blair recognized as camouflage sticks, otherwise known as grease paint. Jim selected one of the colored sticks, picked up the pocket mirror that was also in the case and immediately began striping his face. Blair watched in fascination as the transformation was made. Jim quickly finished, put away the items, and shut the case. This done, he exchanged the beret for the more appropriate camouflage hat.
"Wow," Blair said simply, when Jim turned to face him.
A small wry smile answered him. "Come on. Time to get this show on the road."
Blair nodded, beginning to turn away. Jim stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm, and he gazed up into the familiar blue eyes.
"I haven't forgotten what today is, Chief. This isn't how I'd intended to commemorate it."
Blair swallowed. If Jim hadn't forgotten, he had, at least temporarily. The reminder of the anniversary of his death stunned him for a moment. "I--uh--know. I hadn't quite envisioned something like this either." Stepping closer to his friend, Blair gripped the other man's shoulders. "I came back for you, Jim Ellison; you'd sure as hell better come back for me. Your Shaman demands it. The Guide needs his Sentinel as much as the Sentinel needs his Guide." The younger man moved back, continuing to hold Jim's gaze.
Jim stared at him for a long moment. Finally, he gave a slow nod. "I'll do my best, Chief. If it's within my power at all, I will return."
"That's all I'm asking. Now, come on, before Turnbow starts to get antsy." Knowing how uncomfortable Jim could get with these emotional moments, Blair forced a smile and turned to head back toward the SWAT crew.
Not another word was said on the subject as both men set their minds to the task ahead. They returned to the command center, where Jim picked up the handset again.
"We're ready."
"Very good, Captain, and within your time limit, too." Turnbow sounded pleased. "Here's your instructions. There is a three-foot-wide path leading directly to the girl. The path itself is clear, but on either side of it are land mines. You are to walk single file, three feet apart, until you reach the orange marker. There you will stop for ten seconds, then come ahead until you reach the helicopter. If you attempt to stray from the path or walk closer together than three feet, the girl and your friend will be shot. Are we clear?"
"Understood and acknowledged," Jim said calmly, though his eyes glittered with anger.
"Come ahead."
Jim set the handset down. Glancing at Blair, he turned and walked out into the open. Blair came up beside him as he stopped to survey the area one final time. The Guide saw his Sentinel tilt his head just slightly. "What is it, Jim?"
"They've begun pre-ignition on the engines."
"Oh, man."
Jim nodded slightly and began walking. Taking a deep, calming breath, Blair fell into step behind him. He felt uncomfortably exposed, knowing there were undoubtedly guns trained on them. They were probably thirty feet from the chopper when Jim stopped beside the orange marker. They waited silently for several seconds, then Jim spoke quietly, "He's turned off the electrical field."
They waited the full ten seconds before beginning to move forward again. When they were a few feet beyond the invisible barrier, Jim said, "It's back on."
"Shit," Blair whispered. "You think he's planning a doublecross?"
Jim shook his head once. "Probably just a precaution. Remember that, when you're walking back out."
Blair nodded, though Jim couldn't see him. As they got closer, he could see the tears on the girl's cheeks, and his jaw clenched in imitation of his partner. Blair understood her fear. He'd been in her position. But she was just a little girl. She shouldn't have to deal with this kind of trauma--no one should. Blair found himself almost seeing red, because he was so angry this was happening, and if he was angry, what must Jim be feeling?
"Easy, Chief. You can't afford to lose your cool now."
"I know, Jim. It just makes me so mad."
Jim nodded once.
Just before they reached the helicopter, Blair whispered, "Jim, if they're planning on starting this thing, don't forget to dial your hearing down. It's probably going to be loud."
Again Jim nodded, coming to a stop in front of the crew door. Blair looked up to find two M-16s leveled at them.
"Get aboard, Captain."
With practiced ease, Jim climbed into the chopper, raising his hands in surrender once inside. "Sergeant Turnbow, I presume?" He addressed the stockier, fairer of the two armed men.
Turnbow sketched a mocking salute. "Sir, yes, sir." He grinned a shark's grin, then motioned to the man beside him. Silently, the man searched Ellison, finding only the knife fastened to his boot. Turnbow accepted the weapon, examined it a moment, then handed it back to Jim.
"You'll need this, I think," the sergeant said. "Now, I'm giving you exactly five minutes to get the girl down and your friend there another five to get her clear of here. During that time, my gun will be aimed at your friend, and Mike's here will be on you. Understood?"
Jim nodded.
"Clock's ticking. Oh, and remember the land mines." Turnbow moved back.
Jim turned to survey the girl's situation. She was obviously frightened, but she was no longer crying, though tears still wet her cheeks.
"Chief, move over here, closer to the door. The mine is directly beneath her feet."
"I see it."
"Good. Put a foot on either side and plant 'em. Don't move until you have her over your shoulder then step straight back, turn and carry her out of here."
"Don't worry, man. I won't move." Blair watched nervously as Jim moved swiftly to the girl, wrapping a gentle hand around one of her legs.
"Elizabeth," Jim said quietly. "It's going to be all right. Just hold on a little bit longer and we'll have you out of here. Okay?"
Elizabeth gave a shaky nod, tears welling in her eyes again.
"Okay, now, I'm going to wrap my arm around your waist so I can hold on to you while I cut you down. Ready?"
Again, she nodded, drawing in a ragged breath as Jim's strong arm wrapped around her. He reached up and quickly sliced through the webbing suspending her. Putting the knife in his teeth, Jim used both hands to lower her to the deck, and then into Blair's waiting hands. As gently as possible the anthropologist draped her over his shoulder without her feet ever touching the ground.
Carefully, he backed away from the aircraft, and looked up at Jim. The knife was now in the possession of Turnbow. Jim gave him a slightly wistful smile. "Go on, Chief. Get her out of here. Don't forget to stop at the marker."
Blair nodded once, fighting the sudden constriction in his throat. He spoke for Jim's ears alone. "Don't forget your promise, Ellison. You'd better come back--alive." He saw Jim swallow and nod almost infinitesimally.
"Go on, you don't have much time."
Blair turned and walked as quickly as his burden would allow, back the way they had come. He was only about fifteen feet from the chopper when he heard the engines fire up. He instinctively ducked and picked up his pace. Blair reached the marker and counted ten seconds, all the while listening to the helicopter warm up. He knew it was probably close to take off rpm. He walked forward, and felt a slight tingle run up his leg. Oh, shit!
The concussion of the land mines sent him sprawling. Fortunately he managed to avoid crushing Elizabeth. Dirt and gravel rained down on them, and Blair covered the girl and his head until the pelting stopped. Blair rolled over to see the chopper already well into the air. "Jim," he moaned sadly. He raised his arm and waved it back and forth, signaling Jim that they were unhurt, knowing his Sentinel would be watching if at all possible.
Silently, Blair watched as the helicopter gained altitude and became a smaller and smaller speck in the morning sky. When he could no longer see it, he flopped onto his back with another anguished moan.
Feet were quickly approaching. Lots of them.
"Sandburg! You okay?" Simon demanded.
Wiping a hand over his eyes, Blair pushed himself up onto an elbow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." He looked at Elizabeth. She was curled into a ball, shaking, her eyes tightly closed. Blair scooted closer.
"Everything's okay, Elizabeth. You're safe now. Let's get you untied and out of that harness," the Guide crooned, laying a gentle hand on her arm. Slowly, she opened her eyes, meeting Blair's gaze. He gave her an encouraging smile, beginning to work on the ropes binding her hands to the harness. Other hands were already working on cutting the tape from her ankles.
Once free, the little girl surged forward and latched her arms around Blair's neck, beginning to sob uncontrollably. He held her tightly, all the while murmuring reassurances into her ear. Eventually he managed to regain his feet, urging her up as well. Blair didn't have the heart to break her hold on his neck, so he lifted the girl and carried her toward the vehicles and her anxiously waiting grandmother.
"Elizabeth," Blair said softly. "Your grandmother's here. She's waiting for you."
The girl had quieted somewhat. Now she raised her head and looked into Blair's blue eyes, then around to her grandmother. Smiling, he set her on her feet, and she ran into her grandmother's arms. Blair watched their reunion with a sad smile, heedless of the tears pricking his eyes again.
He was just turning away, when a small, quiet voice stopped him. "Wait, please?"
Turning back, he saw Elizabeth looking at him. "Thank you. I--I'm sorry they--took your friend."
A tear did spill then, but he ignored it, giving her a sincere smile. "You're welcome, Elizabeth. He wanted you to be safe. Don't worry about Jim. We'll get him back."
She offered her own tremulous smile, then went back into her grandmother's arms. Blair watched for a moment, then turned his eyes to the sky, gazing in the direction the helicopter had taken. He felt Simon and the other detectives come up behind him.
"Major Stoltz already has men working on it. The chopper headed south, then cut back north, northeast. They tracked it for a bit, but it dropped below radar. Helicopters have been scrambled. They'll find it."
Blair looked up at the captain. "They're not planning on shooting it down, are they?"
"With four hostages on board, no. They've got strict orders not to fire or return fire, just to keep the chopper in sight once they find it."
"Yeah, assuming they find it. If it stays below radar, they could change course any number of times," Blair said bitterly, returning his gaze to the sky. Finally, sighing heavily, Blair turned around and faced Jim's friends--his friends. "So, what now?"
"Now, we wait. And while we're waiting, the FBI wants your statement."
Blair nodded. He looked up again when Simon laid a hand on his shoulder.
"What you did for the girl--that was good work, Blair."
One corner of Blair's mouth quirked into a smile, but he only shrugged.
Jim followed his partner's progress across the grassy field. He winced when the turbines first turned over, but remembering Sandburg's admonishments, he quickly downed the dial. He watched as Blair ducked when the engines started.
The helicopter was already fifty feet in the air when he saw and heard the explosions. "No!" he yelled as Blair was thrown forward. He shot an icy glare at Turnbow before fastening his gaze on his friend. "You said you'd let them go unharmed! Why didn't you turn off the electrical field?" Jim demanded. He didn't allow the relief to show on his face when Blair rolled over and waved.
"Insurance, Captain. I needed a diversion to give us time to get out of range. Don't worry. The land mines were special numbers I built just for this mission. More noise and smoke than any real explosives, but if you happened to stand on one, well, the results would be just as messy." Turnbow grinned.
Jim clenched his jaw on a retort. He continued to watch his friend, now far below and far away, letting his eyesight expand to its limits, until even he could no longer see the curly-haired man. Closing his eyes for a moment to center himself, he turned around. "So, what happens now?"
"We go for a little ride. In the meantime, get over there with the others." Turnbow motioned with his weapon.
Jim turned, looking at the three other hostages for the first time. They were all seated together on the deck, one wrist of each man chained to a jump chord anchor. Jim moved to sit down next to them. There was an empty set of chain cuffs, one end already attached to an anchor, beside him.
"Cuff yourself, Captain. I'm sure you know how they work."
Silently, the detective obeyed.
"You know, I'm surprised," Turnbow commented.
Jim looked at the sergeant impassively. "About?"
"You haven't asked me why?"
Ellison's lips quirked into a wry smile. "I figured your little speech earlier pretty much answered that question. You think I was part of Oliver's operation; that I knew the mission was false; that the chopper was going to be sabotaged. You blame me for your father's death."
"You're damn right I do!"
Jim continued to look at his captor calmly. "Well, you know what, Sergeant? I blame myself for their deaths. I suspected Oliver was up to something. I should have known the mission was a set up. But I didn't. If I had, I might've been able to prevent it somehow."
Turnbow seemed thrown by this response, but then he sneered. "Nice try, Captain, but save it for someone who cares."
Jim shrugged. "The only thing I don't understand is why you killed four innocent men, and kidnapped three others."
The sergeant grinned, but there was no warmth behind it. "To get your attention."
"You killed four men just to get my attention?" Ellison knew he shouldn't be surprised, but having it confirmed knotted his stomach.
"It worked, though not in the way I anticipated." At Jim's silently inquiring look, Turnbow continued. "I expected you to contact your Army buddies to 'take care of the problem'. I didn't expect you to sit and wait for the next one."
"I didn't have anything to go on. All I had was a coin belonging to someone in Seventh Group."
"Huh. Still trying to convince me you had nothing to do with Oliver's operation?"
Jim shook his head slightly. "No. What good would it do?"
Turnbow snorted in disgust. "You're right, it wouldn't do any good. I must admit, you figured it out a little sooner than I anticipated. I was surprised to see the surveillance around Widden's house. How'd you figure it out?"
"I had help. You left plenty of clues once we knew where to look. MOS, physical description, similar ages. The varied and professional means you used to kill told me it had to be someone with a military background and probably someone with assassin training. My partner figured out how you had gotten the coins belonging to my men, and the timing of their deliveries told me it had to be someone with pretty good knowledge of my last mission. Eventually the trail led to you."
"Impressive. I guess that's why they call you a detective."
Jim grimaced, but otherwise ignored the remark. "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"What are they here for?" Jim indicated his fellow prisoners. "You wanted me, you have me."
The sergeant smiled broadly. "Oh, they're part of your punishment." Turnbow started to turn away, then stopped and looked back at him. "Did you ever wonder how I chose them?"
"Actually, yeah."
"I'll tell you. They all accepted missions from Oliver. Some even worked for him. And they all knew my dad."
Jim struggled to hide his surprise, but some of the emotion must have been visible, because Turnbow grinned malevolently. Without another word the sergeant turned and went to the cockpit.
Sighing, Jim leaned back against the wall of the helicopter. He lifted his cuffed wrist, examining it briefly, then let it drop to the deck.
"Welcome to our nightmare, Captain."
Jim looked at the man sitting next to him, then let his gaze slide to the others. They were grim-faced but non-hostile. He returned his eyes to the man who had spoken. He recognized him from a picture he'd seen. "Mitchell Widden, isn't it?"
"That's me. This here's Matt Carson, and Rick Dunning. We were all with Seventh Group."
Ellison smiled tightly. "Nice to meet you. Sorry it had to be like this. You guys okay?"
"Yeah, we're fine. Nothin' but a few bruises," Widden said. "If it's any consolation, Captain, we don't blame you for any of this. This guy is demented."
Jim eyed the three men a little incredulously. "Seems to me you have every right to blame me."
"Yeah, well, from the sounds of it, Turnbow's after anyone ever connected with that weasel Oliver. You were just unlucky enough to be in charge of the operation that got his old man killed."
Jim grimaced. "Yeah."
Widden surprised Jim by reaching over and patting his shoulder. Jim couldn't help smiling slightly in appreciation of the gesture. "What were your specialties?"
"I was an Intelligence Officer," Widden answered.
"Warrant Officer," Carson said.
"Ops," Dunning added.
Jim nodded, having expected their answers. "Still holding to the pattern," he murmured.
A few minutes of silence ensued, each man contemplating the chances of a short future.
"Man, this guy is nuts!" Dunning finally broke the silenece.
"Yeah, but he seems to hold all the cards," Carson said.
"When did Turnbow grab you?" Jim asked. "The Seattle police discovered Widden's disappearance three days ago."
"Carson and me were picked up four days ago, I think. Widden came later. Turnbow snatched the girl yesterday afternoon."
"How long had you been here, before I showed up?"
"He and his buddy gassed us or something early this morning. It was still dark when we came to, chained in here. Yesterday he gave us the uniforms and ordered us to put them on."
Jim took in what the men were wearing, consciously realizing for the first time that they were dressed in BDUs. "Do you know how long you flew before landing at that airstrip?"
The three men shook their heads. "We were already airborne when I woke up. That was around O-five-hundred. We landed about thirty minutes later," Carson said.
"By the time we came around, the girl was already suspended. Shortly after that he called you, and here you are," Widden added.
Jim nodded, expelling a deep breath. "So, there's no way of knowing how long the chopper might've been in the air. Any luck with the cuffs?"
"No, not a weak link in the lot. The bastard was even smart enough to get slipless locks. There's no getting out of these babies without a pick," Widden answered.
Again, Jim nodded, accepting this assessment. "Did Turnbow tell you how he slipped surveillance?"
"It was disgustingly simple, and I'm ashamed to say I used to work Special Ops," Mitchell said. "There was a new moon four nights ago. My house backs another yard. What light gets back there comes from a street light, which was burned out. He just snuck through the back yard and in the back door into the garage. I was asleep in my bed. The next thing I knew, I was waking up bound and gagged in the back of a van."
"Don't feel too bad. Turnbow's had some Special Ops training, too," Jim said. While Widden had described his capture, Jim had been surreptitiously working at a seam on his right boot. He paused often to scan the cockpit for any indication of Turnbow's imminent return.
Having noticed Jim's activities, Widden watched in silence, periodically glancing at the cockpit himself.
Seeing his interest, Jim said, "I have a pick sewn in under a false seam. I'd forgotten it was there until I put these on this morning. It'll take me a while to work it loose, though."
"Gotcha. We'll keep an eye out."
"Captain, look over there," Carson called, pointing to the tail section of the helicopter.
Jim looked and saw ten parachute packs stowed behind cargo netting. "Huh. I didn't notice those before. Wherever Turnbow heisted this chopper from, it was obviously mission ready."
"It looks like there are rappelling ropes, too," Carson added.
"Good. Look around for anything else we might be able to use." Jim kept working at the stitching, feeling it give little by little. The leather was stiff from years of disuse, making the task more difficult than it normally would've been.
Ellison estimated they'd been airborne for about thirty minutes when they felt the chopper start to climb and pick up speed.
"I wonder what he's doin' now?" Dunning asked.
Jim shrugged, continuing to work on the stitching. The others made no reply.
Fifteen minutes later Jim had the pick free and quickly began to work on his shackle. A moment later it unlocked with a soft click. Jim left the cuff in place around his wrist, and handed the instrument to Widden. "Unlock them, but don't remove them yet." The others nodded their understanding.
Carson had just passed the pick to Dunning, when Jim hissed a warning. The former Operations officer palmed the pick as Turnbow rejoined their little group.
"How's it going, men? Comfortable?" Turnbow looked over the captives, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. "We're almost to our destination."
"And that would be?" Jim asked.
The sergeant chuckled. "Oh, somewhere around Mount Baker National Forest." He laughed again, then moved to a compartment just behind the cockpit. He pulled out a military issue backpack. Turnbow knelt and began checking the contents.
The captives were silent as they watched Turnbow.
Turnbow looked over his shoulder at them, another grin spreading across his face, then he stood, strapping on the backpack. He looked to his pilot, who nodded. Turning back to the captives, Turnbow said, "Well, we've reached five thousand feet. That should put us squarely back on their radar." He dug into his shirt pocket, and held up a tiny key. "So you can't say I didn't give you a fighting chance." Almost negligently he tossed it to Ellison.
Jim snatched the key out of mid-air, staring at Turnbow. "What makes you think we can't land this bird?"
Turnbow grinned malevolently. "This does." He removed the pistol from the holster at his hip, raised it menacingly in Ellison's direction, then calmly swung around and shot the pilot. The man jerked once, then slumped against the side of the chopper.
"Holy shit!"
"Turnbow!" Jim bellowed, lunging for the killer.
The sergeant looked momentarily stunned by Jim's freedom, but recovered quickly. He had his pistol raised and leveled at Ellison before the detective could take advantage of the situation. Jim stopped short, seething at his missed opportunity.
"Well, it seems you haven't lost your skills, Ellison. Unfortunately, it's not going to do you any good. You have approximately ninety seconds to try and rescue yourselves before this bird cracks up. Use them wisely." Turnbow gave them a mocking salute, and stepped backwards out the door. "See you in another life!"
Jim surged forward, but knew it was too late. He watched for precious seconds until Turnbow's hidden chute deployed. Fixing the drift direction in his mind, Jim rushed to the cockpit. Widden and the others were already breaking out the other parachutes. Jim checked for the pilot's pulse as he climbed over the console into the other seat. "He's still alive! Get your parachutes on, then one of you pull him out of here! I'll hold it as long as I can! Turnbow was drifting due south!"
"We're not leaving you here!" Widden hollered.
"Never mind that! Just do it!" Jim ordered, turning his full attention to keeping the helicopter in the air as long as possible. Not again, not again, not again. Time was running out. The unconscious man was heavy on the controls, and Jim had to struggle against the dead weight. All he could do was keep the ship on a straight course. Unfortunately, that course was heading them right for the side of a mountain. Specters of his past threatened to overwhelm the present, but he shoved them away, concentrating desperately on the here and now. Just when he felt the inner demons winning, he heard Blair's quiet, soothing voice in his mind, reminding him that what happened in Peru was unavoidable, uncontrollable. That imagined voice steadied him, squelching the demons of the past, lending him some much needed strength. Jim understood and believed then that, no matter the outcome, Blair would be there for him.