Brackett's Game by MrsHamill -------- Back to Part 2 SVS2-15: Brackett's Game by MrsHamill, Part 3 -------- Even though Marty had been ready for it, she still found it rather distressing when Simon burst into the loft in full scream. "Okay, where is that son of a bitch?!" he yelled as soon as Jane opened the door. Marty continued screwing the false grill into the kitchen column as she replied. "You know where he is. Is Kirby on your tail?" Simon blinked. "Yeah..." he said slowly, his ire visibly reducing in the face of her calm. "She'll be here any minute." "Good. I need to be here for a wee bit longer then." She finished screwing in the second of four screws and held her hand out to Jane for the third. "That's where it was," Simon said, coming around the pillar to look up at her. "He took it with him?" "What do you think?" Jane asked, acerbically. She handed the next screw to Marty as the door burst open again. "Where's Ellison?" Kirby demanded, as she walked in flanked by her aide, the two U.S. Marshals, Brackett and half of Major Crime. A veritable parade of law enforcement. "He's gone," Marty repeated calmly, reaching for the last screw. "He got his marching orders and left half an hour ago." "Banks, he's your man, what do you have to say for him?" Kirby rounded on Simon angrily, looking for all the world like a Chihuahua attacking a pit bull. "I say he wanted to protect his partner, Kirby," Simon said, his voice soft and dangerous. "And he didn't trust anybody else here to do it!" "If he fucks up my investigation, Banks, it's not only pieces of his partner that will be missing. Do I make myself clear?" "Lady, I've had about as much of you as I can tolerate," Simon ground out. "I'll make you a deal. You stay out of our way, and we'll stay out of yours." He looked over at Brackett, who was carefully watching Marty climb down from her stepladder. "And if you're not going to use him, then leave him here too. Maybe we can actually get some work done." "In your dreams, Banks," she said, her voice acid. "You will keep me informed, do you hear me? I want to know what Ellison does. I want to know where he goes. And I want Gnosovelich!" Without waiting for a reply, she swept out of the loft, her entourage in tow. She left the detectives from Major Crime who had followed her -- Rafe, Megan, Joel and Brown -- and Marty and Jane. As soon as the door slammed behind her, Simon rounded on Marty. "All right, she saw you, and so did Brackett. What's the deal here?" Marty cocked her head to one side and listened carefully before replying. She felt Jane's soothing touch on her arm, grounding her, and absently she patted her cousin's hand. When she was certain there were no surprises anywhere, she turned to Banks and smiled. "Jamie and I have a plan. And it wasn't only Gnosovelich he got mail from, Cap'n. Jack Kelso sent something as well." Simon was nodding, and his face was thunderous. "Kirby's got a mole." It wasn't a question, she noticed. "Aye. But there's one thing that none of them expect, and that's me." She looked around at the gathered detectives. "I can track Jamie. We can find him, and Blair too. But we need to do it now, and we need to do it on the sly. Are y'all game?" She smiled at their eager faces. -------- Even though Jim had been expecting the knockout gas, it didn't lessen the effect. He woke groggy and with a pain in his head that felt like a hundred jackhammers all going at once. He pushed himself more-or-less upright and cradled his head in his hands for a few minutes, trying to do his deep breathing to gain control of his senses again. Over the stench of the gas, the scents of cedar and almond were almost overpowering to him, so he could tell that smell was still way too high. Once he got that adjusted downwards, the ache in his head began to recede. Keeping his eyes closed and his head in his hands, he carefully dialed up hearing. Wherever he was, it was a fairly large space, and it was above ground but not far above. Ground level or second floor. He heard heartbeats, but they were mostly distant and muffled, and there was some kind of white noise generator hooked into the HVAC unit that was hard for him to filter out -- even when he did, though, he still could not discern a heartbeat that was recognizably Blair's. He turned hearing back down to just above normal and cracked his eyes open. It was dim in the room but not pitch black. Rubbing his still throbbing head, he looked around. He was sitting on a cot which was covered with a coarse blanket. There was a commode and a sink next to the bed. Opposite them was the only door to the room. Ventilation was provided via a small grill set high in the wall over the door. Lighting appeared to come from inset strips along the baseboard behind the cot; the floor was plain asphalt tile. Oddly enough, the wall opposite his cot -- to the left of the door -- did not appear to be made of the same substance as the other three walls. Once he looked at it carefully, he realized it was a half-wall -- the upper portion was smooth, and on examination it looked reflective -- maybe one-way glass? It would seem to make sense -- but perhaps it didn't, since he would be able to see through it regardless, and he was certain that Gnosovelich knew of his abilities. He carefully pushed himself to his feet and tottered over to the sink. There was no hot water, but cool water felt fine on his face, and it didn't appear to be tainted with drugs. He used his t-shirt to wipe his hands and face and then turned to examine his prison more carefully. "Ah, you're awake," a disembodied voice said. He glanced up and quickly found the concealed speaker -- but where was the camera? Perhaps it was in the other room. Or perhaps that's where Gnosovelich was sitting, observing him. Jim sat back down on the cot and made himself as comfortable as he could. He carefully extended hearing to beyond that odd wall, and thought he might be picking up a heartbeat, but it was difficult to say. The soundproofing between was formidable. "What, no anger? No demands to see your partner?" The voice was cultured and smooth -- Gnosovelich's, he would bet. It reminded him of Brackett's voice, actually, and that man's inflection was always difficult to read. He kept calm and quiet and waited. "You're good, Ellison," the voice chuckled. "Very good. Well, then, let me play the role you seem to have chosen for me, and let you in on my nefarious plan. By now, you will have noticed the piece of the amulet you brought is gone. I'm having my experts look at it." There was a pause, and once again Jim cautiously reached out with his hearing -- ah. There. The voice was not in the next room, it was several doors down from his. Once he had locked onto the voice, he knew he could find it again -- Blair had called it 'tagging' and had trained him in it well. "As for your partner, well, as you can see, he's here." Light gradually grew in the next room, confirming Jim initial suspicion that the wall was one-way glass. The room was a mirror image of his own, and lying on the camp bed was Blair. Despite himself, Jim leapt to his feet and ran to the window/mirror and pounded on it. "Chief! Blair! Can you hear me?" "Well, that got a rise out of you anyway," Gnosovelich said. "Don't worry, your little friend can't hear you, just as you can't hear him. I know all about your abilities, Ellison, and I've countered every one of them." Jim ignored him and concentrated instead on Blair. He was asleep, whether normally or not Jim couldn't be sure yet. He was a mess; one eye was swollen shut and he was covered with bruises. His hair was filthy and his clothes were torn -- but he didn't look dangerously injured. Jim felt his hands -- pressed against the odd glass -- form into fists and heard himself snarl, as if from far away. "I assure you, he's perfectly fine," Gnosovelich said. "A little worse for wear maybe, but fine. And he'll stay fine -- as long as you cooperate with me." Although his first inclination was to spit out an expletive-laced denial, Jim held himself in and continued to refuse to speak. He instead concentrated on Blair, soaking up the first sight of his lover he'd had in a week. Piggy-backing his hearing on his sight, he realized he could hear Blair -- barely. His heart was beating strongly and that reassured Jim no end. With the lighting up in Blair's room, Jim could see the camera. It was situated so that both rooms were covered completely and high enough that it couldn't be reached. But every cell had a weakness, and he would find this one. Jim listened for and found Gnosovelich's voice in the other part of the building. He was clearly taken aback at Jim's behavior, and that pleased Jim. "I do have other ways of keeping you in line, Ellison," he said, but that warned Jim just enough to have his hearing wrenched down when the screeching feedback hit. Slamming his hands over his ears, Jim let himself sag to the floor and fold into a fetal position. Damn, even with his hearing turned down, that hurt. But he made sure to play up the effect much more than it was. Even after the noise mercifully stopped, he remained curled up on the floor -- and conveniently out of the view of the camera. But despite the renewed headache, he turned his hearing back up and listened for Gnosovelich's reaction. "Watch him carefully," the man was saying. "Sandburg's notes talked about some sort of zone out and I'm sure this caused one. Get me information on his recovery time. Damn, we should have had a camera in his room as well -- I can't see him. No matter. Keep an eye on him." Jim smiled and remained where he was. -------- "This is where he was told to be," Marty told Simon, "the pick-up point." They were in a convoy of three vehicles, Jane, Marty and Simon in the lead, followed by other members of Major Crime who were also acting as lookouts for the FBI. They parked near the blue and white truck and Marty took the lead. "You sure this is going to work, MacLachlan?" Simon growled, and Marty shot him a smile. "Easy enough for a bairn," she said. "It amazes me you canna smell it." She followed the nearly overpowering aroma of cedar and almond from Jim's truck off across the deserted parking lot of the out-of-business home improvement store. Jim had parked out in the far end, and the scent trail led her to the other side of the lot. "Here. He was picked up here." Simon tugged his pants' legs up and crouched, looking at the dirty tarmac. There were tracks in the old mud, and he pointed them out to Joel, who nodded. "Don't get any closer," Marty warned them. "Why not?" Joel asked, confused. "The clever lad. He'd put a gob of the paste on his shoe, and he must have found a way to kick the tires of the vehicle, for I can smell it -- heading that way." She indicated with a look, then trotted off, Jane at her side. "Aye, I can track it. Do you need more information on the tracks, or can we just continue?" Straightening, Simon brushed his hands together decisively. "No. Let's go." -------- After what he estimated to be about an hour, Jim let himself crawl -- as painfully seeming as possible -- to the commode, where he made retching noises. He flushed and then staggered to the sink where he ran water over his whole head, drank a bit, then pulled off his t-shirt to dry himself. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Blair was still asleep. He collapsed on the bed, grateful for the fact that his headache had eased and sent out his hearing for Gnosovelich again. Once he had tagged a sound, it was always easier to find it, and he caught the man in the middle of giving instructions to someone. "...that analysis again. I'm going to want blood samples too. We can always knock him out -- although we'll have to be quick. He recovered very fast from the first time." He was back in the room down the hall, which Jim inferred to be some sort of command center. He could hear the hum of computers behind the voice and got the impression of a large room. "Ah, you've recovered, I see," Gnosovelich said over the speaker. "Sorry to have to do that, but you did need an object lesson, apparently." "What do you want, Gnosovelich?" Jim asked, his voice flat and weary. He turned his head and watched Blair sleep while paying attention to the background noises. "So you can speak," Gnosovelich said, his voice light. "You gave me a phony, Ellison. Either you tell me where the original is or you're going to have to live with that screech for a very long time." Jim sighed. "That was the one we were given," he said. "We made three copies. You've got all three copies, now you have the original. I pulled it out of --" "The phony air-intake duct, yes, yes, I know," Gnosovelich said, his voice becoming impatient, "which was a remarkable place to hide it, by the way. But that doesn't change matters -- my experts say it's still a fake." "Then maybe you need better experts!" Jim snapped. "Or maybe we weren't given the original. Blair seemed to think it was the original, and I had no reason to doubt him." Come on, come on, Jim thought to himself. Take the bait. There was silence over the speaker and in the command room for quite some time. A very slight movement caught Jim's eye, and he sharpened his focus on Blair. Yes... Blair's eyes were open, very slightly, and Jim's hearing caught his heartbeat accelerating. He was waking up. But could he see Jim? Hoping the answer to that was yes, Jim pushed himself upright and once again sat on the edge of the cot. He ran his hands over his still-damp hair and massaged his temples as though his head still hurt him. Yes, Blair could see him -- Jim watched as his eyes widened briefly then sagged shut again. He didn't move on the cot, but one hand, which had been dangling off the edge all along, closed into the classic "OK" sign. "Perhaps I should ask Mr. Sandburg then," Gnosovelich mused, and Jim's head snapped up. He allowed his rage to bleed through as he snarled, "Touch him again and I'll find a way to feed you your own balls, Gnosovelich." Laughter answered his words. "You are in no position to make threats, Ellison," Gnosovelich said. "I will do as I like. However, I prefer to get results by the simplest method possible. Mr. Sandburg. Are you awake?" Blair shifted on the cot, grimaced and moaned. "Chief! Can you hear me?" Jim was already pressed up against the glass without even realizing he had moved. The moan had issued from the speaker, which meant that Gnosovelich had a way to connect their rooms via his sound system. Slowly, painfully, Blair shifted and propped himself up. Jim didn't like how he was holding one arm tightly against his side. "Jim?" he whispered. His left hand, however, was held in that "OK" symbol, so Jim hoped that most of his disability was feigned. "Chief. Are you all right? C'mon, tough guy, talk to me." Jim swept over Blair with his senses -- to the best of his ability -- and found no overt injury besides a lot of bruising. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Blair muttered. "Think I might have some cracked ribs, but I'm okay." Jim could tell he was lying -- and the hand sign told him so too. Bruises, aches and pains -- and one hell of a colorful shiner -- but nothing broken or cracked. Jim looked directly into the camera. "You're a dead man, Gnosovelich," he snarled. "I am?" the disembodied voice sounded highly amused, but Jim could hear his heart rate pick up slightly. "Just wanted you to know. God, Blair, it's good to see you." Jim was plastered against the glass, watching his lover move carefully. "I was beginning to give up hope there, man," Blair replied, but his eyes said, What's your plan? "You know how slow on the uptake I am, Chief," Jim replied, not having to hide his relief. "Simon and Marty had to kick me around a bit, but I finally got with the game." Blair's eyes widened when Jim said 'Marty,' but he merely nodded. "Yeah, Marty makes up for what Simon lacks," Blair said. "Is Janey okay?" "Yeah, she's handling it fine. Ol' grossbuckets here, though, is giving me the run-around." Jim saw Blair's mouth twitch and his eyes began to dance. Yeah, he got it. "I hate to break up this tender scene, gentlemen," Gnosovelich said, "but I need some answers." Jim rolled his eyes. "I told you, Gnosovelich, it's the original. You've got all three copies and now the original." "Shit, Jim, tell me you didn't bring the ring and necklace with you," Blair said, his voice angry but his eyes merry. "The hell I didn't," Jim replied. "They got all the copies, and he was threatening to carve pieces off of you if he didn't get the original. What would you have done?" "The fact of the matter is," Gnosovelich interrupted, "that the piece you brought is also a fake, Ellison. Now Mr. Sandburg will tell me where the original is." Blair looked at Jim, then up at the camera. "Huh? You've got all four, right? The three copies and the original. That's all we had, man." Give the man an award, Jim thought, his performance almost fools me. "I find that hard to believe, Mr. Sandburg." Was that testiness creeping into Gnosovelich's voice? "Believe what you want, and it's Dr. Sandburg," Blair retorted. "Tobias gave me the piece over a year ago. We had three copies made by three different artisans. And if this big lunk hadn't removed the original from its hiding place, you would never have found it." Blair stood, slowly, and painfully walked over to the glass across from Jim. "I can't believe you did that, you idiot," he finished softly, resting one hand on the glass opposite Jim's. "Refusing wasn't an option, Chief," Jim replied softly. His fingers ached to reach through the glass. "My expert avers--" "Then your expert is wrong," Blair interrupted Gnosovelich tartly. "I'm an anthropologist with an archeological background. I can't be fooled by a replica. That was the original." Blair never took his eyes from Jim's, conveying without words how he felt. "Carbon dating --" "Carbon dating on a piece of solid gold will not work," Blair said. He sighed and half turned towards the camera behind him. "You need to test the gold for impurities and for trace element composition. It's Peruvian, dating back pre-European. Check the levels of iridium and manganese. Sheesh, I have to do everything..." Jim managed to keep his face straight, but it was a near thing. Blair, facing away from the camera, had no such constraints, though, and his brilliant grin broke through briefly, before he winced in pain and touched the huge bruise on the side of his face. Wincing himself, Jim had to stop his hand from reaching out to touch. Blair picked up on the aborted movement and murmured, "It's okay, man. You should see the other guys." Smiling with his eyes, Jim pressed his hand on the glass, wishing he could hold and kiss and comfort. Blair smiled back, then cocked his head slightly towards the speaker, which had been silent since the last thing Blair said. Jim let his hearing dial up in search of that tagged voice and found Gnosovelich haranguing someone in the command center. He was completely occupied, so Jim turned his attention back to Blair and nodded fractionally. "Can you hear me, Jim?" Blair whispered, his mouth moving in an exaggerated fashion. "Blink if you can hear me." Jim concentrated and realized he could indeed hear Blair, though his voice was muffled. He tipped his head to one side and blinked slowly. Blair smiled. -------- "Is this the spot, Cap?" Rafe hunkered down by Simon on the construction mound overlooking the technology corridor. It was an older building, now isolated by construction all around it, that was their focus. "Yeah, the trail leads here, according to MacLachlan," Simon said quietly. "This is also one of the spots that Brackett identified as Gnosovelich's working labs. I've got Joel checking out ownership right now, and Megan is with Jane and Marty getting a closer 'listen'. We need positive proof that Ellison and Sandburg are in there." The building was low and sprawling, with a large, empty parking lot to the south and east of it. There were three vehicles pulled up to the loading dock, and one of them, Marty told Simon, was the car they had been trailing. Joel and Brown joined Simon and Rafe. Joel looked pleased. "It's supposed to be completely empty, Simon," he said. "Belongs to a failed industrial and medical research company that went belly up last year. They're still in bankruptcy, according to Ruth over in records, and the building is in dispute. No one should be there." "Better and better," Simon murmured, then tensed as he saw the three women working their way back through the maze of construction equipment. "Here they come." All three of them were grinning, and Marty was positively triumphant. "It's a ringer. They're both there. And from what I heard, Gnosovelich is there too. We've got them." "How many men do you figure, MacLachlan?" Simon asked her. Marty frowned and thought hard before answering. "At least a dozen," she said. "Maybe a bit more. I smelled C4 as well." "Damn." Simon thought hard, while looking down at the innocuous-looking building. "Okay, we need reinforcements. We know that Kirby's got a mole in her office so we can't trust her..." "We can trust her, Cap'n," Marty interrupted. "Jamie and I were agreed on that one. She's clean." "Hmm." Simon examined and discarded dozens of options running through his brain before finally making a decision. "Okay. Let's get back to the office. Rafe, you and Brown are here. Do not give yourselves away. Call if there's any change." "Yessir," they simultaneously replied. -------- The camera covered very nearly every inch of both rooms, but there was one very big blind spot; behind the half-wall under the glass. Jim pulled his cot over to the glass -- smiling when Blair did the same -- and they sat, hands pressed against opposite sides of the glass. Blair kept up a constant low murmur, doing his best to ground his Sentinel, and Jim simply bathed in the stimulus while he worked on his shoe. Before he left, he and Marty had taken an old pair of Jim's Nikes and embedded a long, slender pick in one side. It meant that the shoe was very uncomfortable for Jim to wear, but it was also nearly impossible to find on a cursory search. Trusting Brackett's assertion that Gnosovelich used hired muscle, Jim counted on any search of his person to be completely cursory, and it was. Under cover of the wall, with Blair sitting so that he partially obscured Jim from the camera, Jim worked the pick free and put his shoe back on. Blair saw what he was doing and smiled, then glanced at Jim's door. The rooms had not been designed as cells; the doors probably had locked from the inside, but Gnosovelich had the handles switched. The keyhole was plain as day and twice as real -- and, given a chance, Jim could pick it. It was the chance that he needed. Gnosovelich's voice had faded for a while as he moved into other parts of the building. Jim was fairly certain now that the building was a sprawling, one-story affair, and that Gnosovelich was only using about half of it. He'd been able to pick up other voices -- a good dozen at least -- and had smelled various explosives and gunpowder denoting firearms. The place was heavily defended then. He knew that Marty and the troops had to be massing and had probably already found the hideout. Jim was proud of the way he'd managed to get some of the almond-cedar paste from his shoe on to the wheel of the van that picked him up and was fairly certain that Marty wouldn't have had any trouble tailing the scent. If only he could speak to Blair without an audience... "All right, gentlemen," Gnosovelich's voice returned to the speaker. "I'm having my expert run the tests you suggest, Mr. -- I mean, Dr. -- Sandburg. We'll have confirmation in about two hours. I want you to know, Ellison," he continued, "that if the amulet you've brought me is not the true piece, I will begin carving small pieces out of your partner until I do have the real one." "You can't get blood from a stone, Gnosovelich," Jim growled. "If what you took from me is phony, then we never had the real piece in the first place. You've got what we had, if it's not what you want, well, life sucks." "It's not as easy as that, Ellison," Gnosovelich said. "There's always the last piece to consider. And for me to retrieve that, I'm sure I'll need someone of your special talents." "I have no idea where the other pieces are," Jim said angrily, privately noting the words 'last piece.' Gnosovelich definitely had two of them, then. "Ah, but I do know where the last piece is, or rather, where it was." The disembodied voice was smug. "And you will find it for me, Ellison. If only to keep your lover -- pardon me! -- your partner whole." Suddenly the lights went out completely. Jim heard Blair's exclamation but he kept quiet. "Time for rest, gentlemen. You'll probably need it." Though he missed not being able to see his lover, Jim knew how much he could do under the cover of darkness and immediately went to it. -------- "What is the meaning of this, Banks?" Kirby hissed. Simon smiled. Assistant Director Kirby had still been at work, of course, in her nearly deserted offices downtown. The marshals and Brackett and her whole team were almost the only ones in the place, and since Major Crime was nominally working with the FBI, it was easy for Simon to get in. Once in, he'd gotten Megan to follow Kirby into the ladies room, then waited for Marty's signal before marching in himself. He left Joel outside to keep anyone else from entering. "Kirby, you have a mole," he said without preamble, taking great pleasure in watching her face go from shock to anger. "We've done your work and found Gnosovelich, but we need extra firepower to take him. I'm sure he's counting on the leak in your offices to give him enough advance notice of any move you make to avoid you." "That's impossible." "No, I'm afraid it's not," Marty said. Kirby looked at her oddly -- it was the first time she had spoken in Kirby's presence, and Simon realized she was just now picking up the fact that Marty wasn't one of Banks's people. "A.D. Kirby, I'd like you to meet Inspector Martise MacLachlan, from across the pond. Marty's got some inside information which contradicts you," Simon said, smiling. "How do you know?" Kirby asked, her eyes narrowing at Marty. "That's privileged," Marty prevaricated, "need to know, I'm afraid. We don't know who it is, but Gnosovelich has someone in your office bought and paid for." "And you say you've found his hideout?" Kirby asked Simon, still wary. "We've got him nailed, yes," Simon averred. "In an abandoned office building out on the techway. I've got two men out there now, keeping an eye on him." "What's he got with him?" "At least a dozen men, plus explosives, plus enough firepower to light up the city, I'm sure," Simon replied. "And he has my men. Ellison and Sandburg." Kirby was obviously struggling with herself, wanting desperately to be in on the take and yet reluctant to give Simon's people their due. "What do you want from me, then?" she finally asked. "You found him, you take him." She pointed to Marty. "Interpol wants him as badly as we do, I'm sure." Not correcting her misconception, Marty replied tartly, "Aye, we want him -- behind bars! Your bars or ours, doesna' matter tae us. Now, d'you want in on this or no?" Pacing restlessly within the confines of the small room, Kirby gnawed on her fingernail. "And we don't know who on my team we can trust. Damn. How much manpower can you give me, Banks?" Simon smiled and winked at Marty. "I can get my team of four, plus Marty here, plus half a SWAT team. But I don't know if he's bought off anyone else, so I have to be careful too." "We can trust the marshals, they were assigned," Kirby mused. "And I can think of four people that I trust absolutely -- not on my present team." She stopped pacing and looked closely at Simon. "It's dark now. Can you get us infrared gear and vests?" "I can do that." "Okay. I'm in. I'll release my team for the night, keep that scum Brackett and the marshals, and the four I trust. We can meet--" she looked at her watch, "--in an hour?" "That's good," Simon said. "Let me give you the location." -------- The lock on the door was pitifully easy to force; it hadn't been designed to withhold a concentrated attempt. Once the door was unlocked, Jim carefully moved back to his cot and secreted the long, slender pick in the blanket before lying back. His hearing opened up again, seeking for the tagged voices. He found Blair first, of course. He was still murmuring under his breath, running through a litany of why sitting in the pitch dark sucked, especially when he had no one warm to hold on to -- and maybe do nasty things to. Jim smiled and put his hands behind his head. He found Gnosovelich next. It took him a moment to realize that the man was on the phone to someone, but when he did, the conversation began making sense. "Why would she do that? You don't suspect... Very well. No, not until tomorrow. I still have things to do here. Yes, you've been helpful, tovarisch." The mole, then, in Kirby's office. Jim frowned in thought, wondering what it might mean. Jim followed Gnosovelich around the building by his voice, trying to form a mental map of the place. There was no sense in trying to escape until he knew exactly where everything was -- and from the sounds of it, there were guards everywhere. He needed to get armed, and he needed to get to Blair. Not necessarily in that order. Quite a long time later -- at least an hour, maybe more -- Jim heard Gnosovelich re-enter the command room, having a discussion with someone else. Ah. They were finished with the analysis of the amulet and weren't happy. Wasn't that just too bad. The lights came up and Jim winced in the sudden brightness. He sat up and saw that Blair was in lotus on his cot, trying to meditate. They smiled at each other as Gnosovelich's voice came out of the speaker. "Well, gentlemen, I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but it's now over. I want the real piece, Ellison." "I told you, that's the one we were given," Jim said. He glanced at his door and back at Blair, who nodded infinitesimally. "Why do I have problems believing you, Detective?" Gnosovelich's voice was thoughtful and hard all at once, and Jim dialed his hearing right down to zero. Even so, the screech hit his nerve endings and hit Blair's too, judging by how Blair slammed his hands over his ears and yelled. Jim copied him and then let his eyes roll up into his head and fell off the cot -- just under the half-glass wall. He kept his hands over his ears but carefully dialed up just slightly, until he was certain that the ringing he heard was actually in his head and not in the room. "...DOING?! Are you nuts! He could zone... he could go deaf with that kind of abuse!" He heard Blair in full bellow and smiled gently, yeah, it was the Sandburg effect, all right, that protective streak a mile wide coming out at the oddest of times. Very, very carefully, Jim dialed his hearing up further, tuned out Blair's ranting and listened to Gnosovelich give orders that made his teeth clench. He was sending some of his hired goons to come beat the shit out of Blair -- again -- and Jim had to be very careful to keep up his pretense of helplessness. He continued to listen while boots stamped down the corridor outside his room -- three men, then -- and stopped in front of Blair's. Coiling his body, he waited. The door to Blair's room was unlocked, and he heard Blair scramble to stand and heard his protests. One was still in the corridor -- good. He waited until he was positive the other two were in Blair's room before exploding into action. He had the door open and was out in the corridor before the third man knew what was happening. One swift spin kick -- connecting to a hard jaw -- and that one bounced off the opposite wall and was out for the count. Not pausing for the guy's weapon, Jim slammed the door open, knocking one of the men in Blair's room forward. Blair, who had been backing up and away from the other man, suddenly bent and lunged forward, butting his head into the second man's stomach. Jim grabbed the one he had pushed the door into by the collar and spun him around. The guy pulled up his fist but Jim's was faster. Stunned by the left hook, he was shoved head first into the glass wall, bounced, then slammed into the wall near the door. Jim turned fast, but Blair had his man in hand. The head-butt must have stunned the goon, because he was still bent over. Jim watched Blair slam a fast uppercut into the guy's jaw, then knock his head down into the washbasin by using both hands on the back of the guy's neck. They grinned at each other for a split second, then grabbed the guns their assailants had been carrying and dashed out of the room. They tossed the guy in the corridor into Blair's room, slammed and locked the door. Although Jim could hear the alarm being given, he paused for a moment, grabbed a surprised Blair and pulled him up tight against his body before kissing him hard and deep. "God, I missed you, babe," he murmured, relishing the feel of his lover in his arms. Blair grinned at him. "Same here, man," he said, running his hand down Jim's face. "And I miss the cold pack too... damn, my knuckles hurt!" "Let's get out of here, Rambo," Jim laughed, and led him in the direction opposite the running feet. -------- Simon did a quick count in his head: five detectives from Major Crime (counting himself); five FBI agents; two Federal Marshals; seven officers from the SWAT unit (who had been on weekend duty); one Scottish Inspector with one police observer; and a trussed up Federal prison inmate. Well, it wasn't bad for about an hour's notice. The SWAT van had enough vests and infrared gear to go around, so they suited up silently before approaching the dark building. Their plan was simple; block all exits, and on signal, enter together and create as much havoc as possible. There were three entrances. Simon and Kirby took the loading dock, since that had obviously been the most used. Joel took the main entrance, setting a charge on the door to blow it out -- the explosion would be the signal to go. Kirby's 'trusted people,' along with Rafe and Brown, took the third, a small service entrance that had been easily forced. There were four guards stationed around the building, and they were easily taken out by Marty and Simon. Shortly, they waited on the loading dock for the signal to begin going in. Marty, pressed up against Simon, stiffened suddenly, and Simon turned to look at her. "Ellison's escaped!" she hissed in Simon's ear, a grin on her face a mile wide. "There's a fair ruckus going on now -- the lad's got exquisite timing." Simon thumbed on his walkie-talkie. "Taggert, Brown, do you copy?" he murmured. At their affirmative, he said, "Ellison's gotten out and is creating a distraction. Notify your people." Kirby was staring at Marty, and Simon suddenly coughed. "She's got good hearing," he said, ignoring Marty's silent laughter. Luckily, before Kirby could say anything, they heard a muffled boom from the other side of the building. Leaping up, Simon led his portion of the team into the building, kicking down the door and instantly firing upon three guards in what must have been the shipping and receiving area. In the distance, they could hear shouts and shots fired, and Simon said a quick prayer that his friends were okay before leading the way deeper into the building. -------- Jim had a pretty good feel for the place from his mental map. He pulled Blair along with him and they almost immediately doubled back, down a different corridor, heading for the command room. Suddenly, a huge boom rocked the place, and both men pushed themselves up against the corridor wall, holding their weapons ready. "What was that?" Blair hissed, and Jim held his hand up as he listened. After a moment, he smiled down at Blair and squeezed his hand. "The cavalry is here," he whispered. "Come on, I think the command room is down this way." At the next cross corridor, Jim and Blair inched up and Jim listened hard. He leaned down to whisper in Blair's ear. "Two guards, twitchy, right in front of the door. Gnosovelich is inside. I don't know if there's another exit but I don't think so." Then he kissed the ear he whispered into, and Blair smacked his chest, grinning. "Let's go with plan A then," Blair murmured. "Back me up?" He shoved his weapon into the waistband of his pants. "I hate this," Jim whispered, but Blair only kissed him briefly, laughing silently. Backing up, Blair got a running start then skidded around the corner. He 'eeep'ed as though just seeing the guards, twisted around and raced back. Instead of haring down the hall, however, he pushed himself flat against the wall with Jim, waiting. The hired muscle fell for it, chasing after Blair and encountering one pissed off Sentinel and his equally pissed off Guide. One went flying after Jim tripped him, and the other got kicked in the gut for his trouble. Jim had a short but furious battle with the second man, which ended when he used the man's own momentum against him and slammed him into the wall, face first. "Ouch, that's gotta hurt," he heard Blair murmur, and when he looked around, it was to see him leaning against the wall, one foot on his own, unconscious, opponent. "Smart ass," Jim muttered with a grin, then they hurried around the corner. There were sounds of fighting coming closer, and Jim wanted in that command center in a big way. He stopped at the door and extended his hearing, but Gnosovelich apparently had turned on some sort of white noise generator in the room since he was getting practically nothing. He could discern at least one heartbeat, but that was it. He shook his head and frowned at Blair, who frowned back. "Dial down hearing," Blair muttered, "all the way. I'll go low and you go high." "You sure?" Jim mouthed, but Blair nodded emphatically and indicated the entrance. He quickly crossed to the other side of the door and drew his weapon with a grimace while Jim got a hold of his dials and turned them down. Then Blair caught Jim's eye, counted down from three, Jim kicked open the door, and they both dived in. It was dim; the room was lit only by the monitors of several computers and TV screens. Both men scanned the room as quickly as possible while heading for cover, which was sparse. An airhorn suddenly sounded, and both Jim and Blair winced, trying to cover their ears while still looking for Gnosovelich. "Well, damn; it looks like Brackett's data were incomplete," Jim heard and he whirled. Gnosovelich wasn't tall, he was actually only an inch or so taller than Blair. He had dark hair and a fair complexion, and he was carrying a large handgun, which was pointed at Blair, who, it turned out, was crouched right in front of him. "Stand up slowly, Mr. Sandburg, and lower your weapon. You too, Detective." Blair did as he was told, but as he rose, he said, "It's doctor, man, when are you gonna get it right?" Jim slowly dialed up his hearing again as he, too, rose slowly. "It's over, Gnosovelich," he said. "That noise you hear is about half of Cascade's finest heading this way. I'd take the high road if I were you." "Ah, I don't think so, Ellison," Gnosovelich replied. "Every rat has a bolt hole, and I have mine. You two are about to become acquainted with it. Let's go." "No." Blair stood still, his back to Gnosovelich, but his voice was firm as he looked significantly at Jim. "We're not going." "Oh, yes you are," Gnosovelich said. "I need him, and to control him, I need you. I only need you alive, you know. Missing pieces don't count." "I'm not going," Blair repeated. Jim could tell Blair was up to something, so he kept his gun up and pointed at Gnosovelich. One clear shot, that's all he needed... "We're wasting time. I can always shoot out your kneecap and have your loverboy carry you. Would you prefer that?" Gnosovelich was clearly losing patience with Blair's intractability. He shifted his weapon to one hand and pointed it down to Blair's left leg, cocking it. Blair inhaled sharply and tensed up. "No!" he said sharply, a note of panic in his voice. "No, don't do that... all right, I'll..." He turned slightly as he spoke, and suddenly the leg which had been a target swept up, kicking Gnosovelich's hand. The gun went off; the bullet ricocheted harmlessly off the floor; Blair dropped; and Jim fired. Gnosovelich's shot missed. Jim's didn't. Jim leapt across the intervening space and kicked the gun away from the body on the floor. "Goddammit, Chief," he hissed, pulling Blair up with one hand while the other kept his gun trained on Gnosovelich, "Don't do that to me! Are you all right?" "Fine, I'm fine, quit that," Blair said, pushing Jim's roaming hands away from his body. "Fuck. Did you kill him?" "Yes, I killed him!" Jim replied sharply. "He was going to kill you!" "No, he was going to shoot my kneecap out, but let's not split hairs," Blair said, his voice wry. "Well, it was probably for the best. We couldn't count on him not to spill about you." Jim turned incredulous eyes on Blair. "When did you become so damn bloodthirsty?" he asked, wrapping one arm around Blair's middle. "About the time I started realizing what I had to do to protect you," Blair replied acerbically, "as your partner. Don't worry, I'll have a panic attack later, when we're home and safe." "Well, it's nice to know some things don't change," Jim muttered as the door flew open to show Simon's and Kirby's astonished faces. -------- Mop up was relatively easy. Most of the hired muscle were dead, the rest in custody. Kirby had some pointed questions for Marty; how she could track Jim through Cascade and how she knew that Jim was loose inside the building. It drove her crazy that Marty wouldn't spill, but only cited 'need to know' and 'state secrets'. "We need a few things over you Yanks, you know," Marty told her mysteriously. Jim almost lost it when he heard that. Blair was checked out by the EMTs and pronounced fine -- bruised and battered, and a bit dehydrated, but cleared to go home. He was also overjoyed to see Marty, and immediately rushed out with her to get Jane from the car where she had waited out the attack with Brackett. Kirby was satisfied with Gnosovelich's body; and furthermore, was pleased to discover a cell phone in the man's possession. In the memory of the phone was the home phone number of her aide, which made her eyes light with unholy glee. After participating in a thorough search of the building and finding what he needed to find, Jim finally made his way out of the building to the far end of the parking lot, where he heard Blair talking with Jane and Marty. Blair's tone sounded serious, so he listened in as he jogged to them. "Jane, are you nuts? The guy's a psychopath!" Blair was saying, and Marty was agreeing with him. "Look, I'd say I'm a pretty good judge of character, and he's not," Jane replied heatedly. "I've just spent the last hour with him, and he's a very interesting person." "Well, so was Jeffrey Dahmer, I'm sure!" Blair replied, just as heatedly. Jim stopped dead, not at all willing to get involved in this discussion. If Jane found Brackett to be a 'very interesting person'... Instead, Jim walked over to the vehicle where he could see Brackett sitting in the backseat. The man was manacled to a ring imbedded in the floor of the car, but still managed to look at ease. "Well, Jimbo. Fancy meeting you here." "Oh, put a sock in it, Brackett," Jim replied wearily. "What did you do to Janey?" "Nothing, I swear," Brackett replied, grinning. "We just -- talked." "Uh-huh." "Is Gnosovelich dead?" Brackett suddenly asked, leaning forward. There was gleam in his eye. "Yeah." "You killed him, didn't you," Brackett said, his mouth a grim line. "Yeah," Jim repeated, looking curiously at the man. "Goddammit, Ellison, I didn't want to owe you," Brackett muttered, slumping against his seat. Ah, Jim thought. Not about to pass up this opportunity, no matter how undeserved, Jim merely smiled. "Well, I guess it's too late for that, Brackett. But at least you'll get your reduced sentence now. Maybe only twenty years instead of thirty-five." "Less than that, Detective, less than that," Brackett replied, the sour look still on his face. From behind him, Jim heard the Federal Marshals approaching, and he gladly stood away from the vehicle to let them take back custody of their prisoner. As one slid into the back with Brackett, the other sat in front and started the car. Before the doors closed, however, Brackett waved. "See you soon, Jimbo," he said, his eyes very cold and very hard. -------- "So, the piece you took to him was a fake," Simon said. They had all proceeded to the loft finally, in the hopes of maybe getting some sleep before daybreak. Blair was very distressed at the magnitude of the disaster. After a much-needed shower, he clung to Jim's side like a leech. Not that Jim was complaining. "Yeah, we had four copies made," Jim confirmed. "I got all four copies back too. They're going to be hidden again." "So where's the original?" Simon demanded, scratching his head. Jim glanced at Marty, who smirked. "State secret, sir," he replied, and both Marty and Blair burst out laughing. "Whatever," Simon replied, rolling his eyes. Megan spoke up. "Marty, Jane, come home with me. I've got a queen size sofa bed that's not too bad, and it beats the futon and a camp cot." "That'd be lovely, Meg, thank you," Marty replied, after confirming it with Jane. "But we'll come back early in the morn for breakfast with these two lads," she added, giving Blair a hug. "Sure," Jim said, "we can meet for brunch at noon, at the diner around the corner. Deal?" "Noon isn't early," Jane said with a frown. "Yeah, I know," Jim replied with a badly suppressed smirk. "You just want us out of here," Simon groused. Realizing that was the case, they all agreed with good grace and stood to leave. Jim closed the door on the last of them and turned back to Blair, who was once again surveying the devastation. "Jim, I don't believe this," he said sadly. "I know, Chief," Jim replied, embracing him from behind. "We'll fix it. It's just stuff, right? As long as we're alive, that's the important thing." "I know, I know," Blair sighed. He twisted in Jim's arms and rested his good cheek against Jim's shoulder. "Is this the part where we go upstairs and have life-affirming sex?" he asked, a yawn half-way through ruining his attempt at a sexy tone. Jim laughed. "Yeah, sure. If you think you can stay awake for it. Come on." He locked up and did a fast tour of the apartment while Blair was in the bathroom, then took his own turn before heading up to their bed. He shucked down to boxers and sat on the edge of the bed, watching Blair strip and climb into bed. Then he reached over for his discarded pants and pulled a clunky, cloth wrapped bundle out of one pocket. "What's that?" Blair yawned. "Our copies," Jim replied, spilling the bright gold on the bed. Blair sorted the pieces fondly, then froze. "Ah, Jim?" "Yeah, babe?" Jim replied, leaning over to nuzzle at Blair's neck. "There's -- there's one extra piece here." Blair's finger indicated a half-moon shaped chunk, and Jim chuckled. "Yeah, you noticed that, huh?" Blair whapped him with the back of his hand, then said "Ow!" when he felt the bruised knuckles complain. "Gnosovelich had two of the pieces. Kirby's got one of them and will return it to the Cascade Museum. But this one, I figure, is from the collector in New York -- or, maybe yet another one. Either way, it's ours now, and I've got the perfect place -- and person -- for it." Blair looked at him with big eyes. "She's absolutely going to kill you, you know," he said, a grin fighting to come through. "Yeah, I know," Jim said, smugly. Then he wrapped the pieces up again and set them aside. "We could just smuggle it into her luggage and send her an email..." he suggested, and Blair laughed, collapsing back on the pillows. "It belongs to Sentinels to guard, don't you think?" Jim asked Blair seriously, as Blair snuggled down into the sheets. "Yeah, I guess it does at that," Blair replied sleepily. "C'mere." Jim crawled under the sheets and pressed himself up to his lover. He leaned down and kissed Blair gently, ghosting little kisses all over his face, paying close attention to the bruises. He came back to Blair's mouth again, kissing deeply, then noticed how slack those beautiful lips were. Pulling back, he looked down and realized his love was asleep. A soft snore confirmed it. Chuckling, Jim turned out the light and pulled Blair to himself gently, wrapping him in strong arms, and succumbing to sleep himself.

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SVS2-16: Gift Exchange by Corbeau
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