by K Ryn
Jim shook his head. "His squad's gone. And we've had a visitor." Steering the younger man toward the entrance, the Sentinel did a quick check of the hallway again before pulling the door open.
Blair's face paled immediately when he saw he symbol and took a step backward. "God, Jim... I never heard anything... did he... I mean is Dutch...?"
"There's a cell phone on the floor in the hallway. Probably his. My guess is he heard something and went to check it out. He might have even thought it was me delivering lunch."
The Sentinel's jaw clenched and the muscles in his face rippled with the effort it took to control his anger. Not only had his Guide been in danger again, but now a fifth friend was missing.
The shrill ringing of Jim's cell phone startled them both. Eyes locked on his young partner's the Sentinel answered the call.
"Ellison."
"Count to four... we're keeping score... see who's knocking at the door..."
The voice had a distorted, mechanical quality to it. The Sentinel stood absolutely still, trying to concentrate on the sound and the words. Jim's focused, blank expression drew Blair to his side, one hand resting gently on the older man's arm.
"That seems to be the question," Jim said quietly.
"Answers were given, promises made... the vengeance of memory never fades..."
A pained expression flickered across Jim's face and he closed his eyes, his head bowing slightly. Blair's grip tightened, recognizing the signs of his Sentinel's distress, guessing from the cryptic way his partner had spoken that the voice on the other end belonged to the person behind the attacks -- and that Dutch Hansen had indeed become the latest victim.
"You're targeting my friends... Why? What do you want?"
"Hot as fire, cold as ice... now you have to pay the price..."
"You want me... name the time and place." Jim's eyes flashed and his voice was filled with barely controlled anger. Blair shivered at the force of the emotions, but the voice on the other end of the line never faltered.
"And now we're up to number five... surely he must be alive..."
"Where is he? Where's Dutch?"
"Find what you fear in the mirror... the past finds its way to correct the error...
"Damn you. Stop playing games. Tell me where he is!"
"Granting wishes... with the fishes..."
With that, the line went dead. Jim slowly lowered the phone and Blair reached out to take it from his partner's hand. With a concerned glance at his stunned Sentinel, Blair punched in Simon's number.
Ten minutes later they were in the truck, headed to the station. Jim took a corner without hardly braking and Blair gasped involuntarily as shifted in his seat. The vehicle slowed and the Sentinel's hand was on his shoulder immediately. His Guide looked up to see the apology in the older man's eyes.
"I'm okay, Jim," Blair murmured, patting his partner's hand in reassurance. "Just take it easy, okay?"
Jim nodded and returned his hand to the steering wheel, clenching his fingers around it in a white-knuckled grasp. The detective's face was a taut, unreadable mask, but his eyes mirrored anger, frustration and guilt.
"We'll find him, Big Guy. Simon put out an APB, right?"
"For all the good that will do us," Jim snarled, finally giving voice to his emotions.
Blair actually breathed a sigh of relief. Talking was good, snarling he'd take. It was much better than the brooding silence that his partner had maintained since he'd reported the phone conversation to Simon. Blair knew that Jim was blaming himself for what had happened to the older cop, but it wasn't his responsibility alone.
"Jim, I'm sorry. If I hadn't been so wrapped up in trying to figure out what those symbols meant..."
"You'd probably be missing, too." Jim glanced over at his young partner and shook his head. "You've already taken your lumps on this case, Chief. Don't beat yourself up over this. It wasn't your fault."
"I'll buy into that if you will," his Guide responded quietly.
The Sentinel stared out through the windshield for a few moments, then nodded, the tension in his body easing.
"So let's get back into the cop mindset here and start doing some detective work," Blair prompted. "He talked in rhymes, posing riddles. He must be assuming that you can figure them out. What was the last thing he said?"
"Granting wishes... with the fishes..." Jim repeated the words softly. Suddenly his eyes widened and he cranked the wheel viciously to the left.
"Hey!" Blair bit back a groan as the abrupt movement sent a burning pain radiating outward from his cracked ribs.
"Sorry..." Jim mumbled, scrambling to pull out his light and plunk it on the dashboard. "Call Simon. Tell him to get some units down to the breakwater pier."
Blair fumbled in his backpack and then remembered that his own cell phone was dead -- he cringed at the memory of the tongue-lashing that Hansen had given him for that and made a silent vow to apologize to the older man as soon as they found him.
"Use mine," Jim said quietly and Blair accepted the telephone with a nod. Within moments he'd made the call and shut the phone down again.
"Today was supposed to be Dutch's day off," Jim explained as he shifted gears and increased their speed. "He was going to go fishing. He always heads down to the breakwater first. If our man knew that..."
"That's where he might have taken him," Blair finished the thought.
The next few minutes were spent in strained silence -- Jim putting the older truck through its paces as he charged through traffic, Blair gripping the shoulder harness and gritting his teeth against the pain in his side. The truck skidded sideways as Jim pulled it to a screeching stop at the upper level parking area ajacent to the waterfront.
"Stay here!" the detective yelled over his shoulder as he jumped out and charged across the lot.
He paused at the railing that overlooked a second parking lot. Hansen's squad car was parked near the entrance to the boat ramp and Jim could see the older cop slumped over the steering wheel.
"Is... that... him...?" asked Blair breathlessly, holding his side as he joined Jim at the railing.
"It's him," growled the Sentinel. "I'm going down there. Watch for the backup."
"But Jim..."
"Blair..." the exasperated Sentinel grabbed his Guide and shook him. "Please listen to me for once and stay put. You're too important to me to risk here."
"Okay... just be careful, man," Blair murmured, acquiescing to the older man's demands. "If you're right and this guy's really after you, you're going to be a sitting duck out there in the open."
Jim nodded and gave his partner a light pat on the arm. He jumped the rail and began a rapid descent down the boulder sloped hillside.
Blair gripped the railing with both hands, wishing there was some way that he could help, but he knew that his presence would only distract his partner. Right now, Jim needed to be a cop and that meant that Blair needed to be the observer and stay out of the action.
He saw Jim reach the pavement and start across to the car at the same time he heard the approaching sirens. He turned to look over his shoulder, ready to flag the arriving officers down when the world exploded. The ground under his feet trembled and he swore that he felt the push of the pressure wave as it crested past where he stood.
Horrified, he stared down at the burning remains of the squad, straining for any sign of his partner. Panic gave him the impetus to ignore the pain in his side and he launched himself over the rail, intending to follow the path that Jim had taken.
Less than half-way down, clouds of smoke billowed around him and he had to stop, shielding his tearing eyes.
"JIM!" The scream welled up from deep inside, tearing from his throat, pulling at the muscles surrounding already battered ribs. He didn't care. He opened his mouth to call out again, coughing violently as the smoke filled his lungs.
He stared into the shifting deadly fog, leaning heavily against the rocks. He sent a desperate prayer to whoever was watching over wayward Guides
and their overworked Sentinels for just one more miracle.
And he was rewarded with the sight of Jim Ellison, climbing slowly toward him. When the detective was within arm's reach, Blair pulled the older man down beside him. There was a bloody gash over his right eye, and Jim seemed dazed, but otherwise unhurt. Filled with sorrow that the explosion had taken the life of the older cop, Blair hugged his Sentinel to him, grateful that it hadn't taken his best friend as well.
Jim leaned back against one of the squad cars and touched the wound on his temple gingerly. Four of his friends assaulted and now, one dead. He watched grimly as the EMTs loaded a covered stretcher into the ambulance, battling against the confusion in his mind, trying to make sense of it all.
The ringing of his cell phone startled him and he fumbled with it for a moment before answering.
"Ellison."
"A fine dance, now nearly done... finished by the light of the next rising sun," chimed the distorted voice.
"You killed him," Jim said angrily. "You killed a harmless old man."
"Nothing misses... not death's kisses."
"I've had enough of this," Jim barked. "You say it's nearly over, then it's time to meet face to face."
"Count with me, it's time to review, go back -- one, two. Back with me to a time long ago, where time stood so. Where partners closer than wives, were abandoned and lost their lives."
"Just tell me where," Jim demanded, his mind racing to try to decipher the riddle.
"We'll talk again, Jim-bo," the distortion clearing just before the line went dead.
Jim stood motionless in shock for a long moment, the sound of the voice echoing in his memory -- seeing a face that should be long dead. Suddenly the words of the riddle rippled through his mind again.
"... time to review, go back one, two... Review what? The attacks? Simon was the first, Cassie the second, Jorgenson the third, Blair the fourth and now Hansen the fifth," he thought quickly. "... go back with me... does he mean to go back and threaten one of them again? One, two... that would be Cassie," he realized.
He scanned the area again and caught sight of the young woman, talking to one of Taggert's officers, a man he recognized. He started to breath a sigh of relief and then froze, realizing that he had misinterpreted the riddle.
"Count backward by two."
Jim stiffened, his eyes searching through the crowd for Blair. He caught sight of his captain, stalking angrily between the clustered cops and emergency personnel that had responded to the fire, but he didn't see his partner. Jim had lost track of the younger man when he'd gone off to find one of the EMTs, grumbling that "It's a good thing you have a thick skull, Ellison. Sentinels must be genetically predisposed toward making their Guides crazy. You won't go see them, I'll bring them to you."
"Simon!" he yelled. "Where's Sandburg?"
"I saw him heading for your truck," Simon called back. "Looked like he was feeling a little wobbly."
Jim spun and stared in the direction of his parked vehicle. He focused his vision and caught sight of something hanging from the rear-view mirror. He bolted toward the truck, leaving Simon to stare after him in confusion.
Skidding to a stop, Jim was already sure what he would find. There was no sign of Blair, but the passenger door was wide open and a crumpled styrofoam cup lay on the ground. Slowly, his mind gripped with fear and anger, Jim reached forward and took Blair's reading glasses from the mirror. He spun, earching the area, but even his enhanced hearing and vision brought him no trace of his friend.
Blair awoke in absolute darkness. Groggily blinking his eyes, he experienced a momentary fear that he was blind. Panicked, he tried to raise his head, aware of a coldness under his right cheek, but found his body oddly unresponsive. He tried taking a deep breath and moaned as a shaft of pain shot burned through him. Ironically, the agony seemed to clear his head and he had a flash of memory that made him freeze.
"The truck... the man at the truck..." His spinning thoughts connected the driver of the car that had hit him two days earlier, with the face of the man who had pulled open the door of Jim's truck. He vaguely remembered being led away to another car, and nothing after that. "Drugged... somehow..." He struggled to remember how that might have happened. He'd had a cup of coffee in his hands... and he'd started feeling woozy... the cup... where had that come from? Another flash of memory matched the helpful face of one of the EMTs at the scene with the face of the man at the truck.
A wave of terror swept through him. Whoever the man was, he was behind the attacks. Propelled by his fear, Blair struggled to sit up, realizing abruptly that his wrists were bound with something cold and unyielding. Ignoring the pain in his side, he tried again, intent on getting himself moving and away from wherever he was.
An explosion of agony in his left side flattened him, leaving him doubled up and straining for breath.
"You're not going anywhere, kid," snarled a voice out of the darkness.
"Who... who are you?" Blair managed to ask as he worked to get some control over his reeling mind. He gasped in pain again as he felt a hand clench in his hair, jerking his head backward.
"Your death song," whispered the harsh voice.
Blair gritted his teeth, staring wide-eyed into the darkness, feeling the man's breath on his face. "Come to finish the job you started with the car?" he found himself asking.
He flinched, startled, as his question elicited a barking laugh from his captor. Then he flinched again as the man tightened his hold and jerked backward, nearly lifting him from the floor.
"Smart... a little slow... but smart... just like Ellison," the voice sneered. Blair felt himself shoved forward to land heavily on his side.
"That's what this is about," he whispered, his mind racing. "It is Jim you're after..."
Horror filled him -- five of Jim's friends targeted... one of them killed and now he'd been taken hostage. It was a vicious game directed at his partner. But why? Who was this man?
"That's right. And you're going to help bring him here."
The words had barely registered before Blair felt a tug at his wrists -- a pull that became a stronger force, drawing his arms upward. He tried to shift his weight against it, but felt himself being janked upright. He fought to jerk free, but the handcuffs locked around his wrists bit painfully into the skin and he had no leverage with his feet barely touching the ground.
"I don't know... who you are... or why you're doing this... but you're making a mistake... if you think he's going to risk his life for me..." Blair managed to gasp.
A stinging slap struck him on the left side of the face, whipping his head to the right.
"Don't even try to play that game with me," snarled the voice. "I know Ellison. He's got a code of loyalty toward his partners. He'll come."
"Partner?" Blair almost managed a laugh. "I'm not his partner... I'm not even a cop... I'm just an anthropologist... from the university..."
Another slap stung his face and knocked his head sideways again. Struggling for breath he ran his tongue along his lip gingerly, tasting the blood that was welling there.
"You've made a mistake man... you've taken the wrong hostage," Blair knew that he was pushing the man in a desperate direction that could cost him his life, but he also knew that he had to do what he could to protect his partner. The idea that he would be used to force Jim here, into this madman's hands was something he couldn't live with and it was something that he knew the detective would very easily agree to.
"I guess we'll find out."
Blair was grabbed by his jacket and spun forcefully to the left. His feet scrabbled on the floor as he tried to stop the rotation, but he felt a hard blow to his right leg as something struck just above his knee. He cried out in pain and instinctively jerked his knee upward, which increased his spin. He closed his eyes trying to fight off the dizziness as the dark room whirled around him. He was abruptly pulled to a stop and had just enough time to draw a ragged breath before he was spun in the opposite direction. Again
he tried to stop the spin, and once more his efforts were rewarded with a painful blow to his legs. Around and around, back and forth his captor spun him, until finally he let Blair's own momentum carry him to a slightly swinging stop. His mind and body reeling with giddiness, he hung there, fighting to regain some sense of control over his senses. After what seemed like an eternity, his mind began to convince his body that the motion had stopped. He managed to raise his head slightly, staring into the darkness for his tormentor. A brilliant flash of light seared his eyes, blinding him. He winced away in response, crying out when he was struck alongside the head. The force of the blow sent him spinning and his body shuddered in shock. There was a brief moment of blackness and then, as the light flared again, there was another blow.
The pattern continued and Blair's mind and body reeled under the onslaught. Time ceased to have any meaning between the agonizing flare of the light and the brutal blows that fell everywhere without warning.
And then a blow connected with his already fractured ribs. He screamed and tasted blood in his mouth. Panic filled him and he tried to strike out with his legs, hoping desperately to keep the man out of reach.
He screamed again as the light flashed and a blow struck his left knee, numbing it. Another clout, this one to his head, dazed him, sapping him of strength and the ability to fight back. The blackness swirled around him, and he felt his mind fleeing into it until finally he felt nothing else. The last thing he heard was a gleeful roar of laughter that froze his very soul.
Simon entered his office and closed the door quietly. Behind his desk, Jim sat with a cloth pressed to his head, staring out through the blinds.
"You should be down at the hospital having that checked out," said Simon, breaking the silence.
"It'll be all right," Jim turned to focus his attention on his worried captain. "Any news?"
"The APB's turned up nothing. They even swept the loft and Sandburg's normal haunts down at the University. Unfortunately Cascade's a big city. We're going to need something more to go on."
Simon watched Jim cautiously, but nothing flickered in his set face.