The sky was watery blue in the early morning light. The warehouse near the waterfront appeared deserted; nobody seemed to be around at that time of the day. The sign declaring the corporation's name hung by one nail.

Quantum Inc.
Beware of the dog!

Blair stepped up next to Jim and looked through his binoculars, trying to detect any signs of movement within the warehouse. Jim observed the area with his senses up, his face sporting the usual blank, distracted expression that accompanied his intense concentration.

"You got anything?" Blair murmured.

Jim grimaced as if he'd smelled something particularly vile.

"Not even rats."

Blair gripped the binoculars tighter.

"Damn! Renfield is supposed to be here," Blair insisted, his frustration at their absent suspect obvious.

"I know." Jim looked down at his partner and nodded toward the building.

Blair shrugged. "We could take a peek -- but I'm coming with you!"

Jim grinned and sauntered across the street nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. Blair left the binoculars in the truck and followed him. He squatted down next to Jim and observed critically how the older man took longer than usual to pick the lock.

"You're slowing down, Jimbo."

"No, I'm not."

"I'm telling you, man. You're getting old."

Jim growled and rattled the doorknob. "We'll see how old I am when we get back home."

"Promises, promises!"

Finally, the lock gave in and they stepped into the warehouse. Blair pressed himself close to Jim and peered around him. Jim grinned. He always felt a foot taller when Blair instinctively sought the protection of his body. Blair's warmth distracted him immediately.

"Looks like he's gone for good. Seems like he cleared out with all the drug lab equipment," Blair said.

The wide room was empty except for scattered trash and a few wooden crates. Jim searched the dark corners with sharpened sight, but there was nothing to see. Dust danced in the pale light that streamed through the high windows. Blair started to wander across the empty space looking for clues. He snorted to himself. It wasn't as if Renfield were stupid enough to write down a forwarding address somewhere. A stack of boxes drew his attention. They appeared to be newer than the rest.

"Jim?"

The alarming quality to Blair's quiet word raised the hairs on the back of Jim's neck. Swiftly, he moved to his lover's side.

"Is this what it looks like?" Blair asked quietly.

Jim squinted at the black box with its blinking red numbers and lights. Seven, six, five...

He grabbed one of Blair's lapels and yelled:

"Run!"

The few yards to their truck seemed to take an eternity to cross. They jumped behind it, ducked and held their breath, bracing for the explosion. Jim pressed his hands protectively over his ears.

Moments passed. A bird sang cheerily but everything else remained quiet. Jim blinked. Blair dared to poke his head over the hood of the truck. He started to stand up as he spoke.

"Maybe it was a dud..."

The force from the blast knocked him off his feet before he could finish the sentence. The detonation caused their eardrums to feel as if they were being sucked out. The truck vibrated from impact as Jim curled himself in a writhing ball of agony. The noise was deafening. Debris hit the side of the truck in a violent staccato and a harsh chemical stench filled the air. Blair threw himself over Jim and clutched at the taller man.

The whine of countless alarm sirens cut short the eerie silence that followed the blast. The occasional clatter of small pieces of debris falling from the sky provided counterpoint. A cloud of dust hovered over the area. Jim coughed and sneezed until he had tears in his eyes.

Blair pulled himself to a sitting position against the truck and stretched his legs out. His ears were ringing. Bumping his head repeatedly against the passenger door, he let out a frustrated whine.

"Why me? Can you tell me that?" He shook his head. "I'm getting too old for this. One day this job is going to give me a heart attack."

Jim just looked up with a tell-me-about-it expression in his pain-filled eyes. His head throbbed in time with his overloaded senses. It would take hours to get it all back down to normal levels.

"You okay?" Blair scrutinized his sentinel carefully.

Jim sneezed violently. "Just overload."

"I hate Mondays," Blair concluded.

"This is Saturday."

"Whatever you say!" Blair waved his hand around in an all-encompassing gesture. "This feels like Monday."

"Your ears still hurting?" Jim asked, tenderly leaning over his lover.

They were snuggling lazily in bed, enjoying their day off. The bed was a mess -- leftovers from a late night snack balanced on the nightstand and a squeezed-out tube of lube on top of it. Jim kissed the ear he asked about and licked at its lobe like a kitten. Blair squirmed at the tickling sensation.

"Kind of. If I ever get my hands on Renfield, he's going to be very sorry. What kind of goodbye gift is that anyway? First he cooks up this mean designer drug and then leaves bombs all over the city like old girlfriends."

"Renfield's already left town. According to my source, it's destination unknown."

"Yeah, he's probably so far into the woods now, he's with the seven dwarfs."

Blair absently ran his fingers through his own chest hair. It drove Jim nuts, the sound of the crisp hair sliding against the soft skin. He wanted to rub his dick through it but didn't quite know how to bring it up. He couldn't really explain to Blair how much his body hair turned him on. It was a sensory feast, all that fine hair tugging at his skin. The arrow of it that ran down Blair's belly to join the pubic hair was a tantalizing sight, the skin down there softer, more vulnerable. And the sweet masculine smell intensified by the warmth of the bed was intoxicating.

Determined, he wiggled himself on top of Blair, who was surprised, but pleased, by the heavy weight. Jim barely tried to hold himself up. He wanted to touch as much of Blair as possible with his own body.

"What are you up to?" Blair giggled.

Jim ground his erection into Blair.

"You have to ask?" Jim asked hoarsely.

Blair's sudden flush and moan encouraged Jim to rub himself against his lover. Blair gasped from the erotic sensation and from the familiar crush of Jim's greater weight. Jim slid up and down for a while, getting so turned on that he thought he would come from the friction alone. His skin tingled all over as Blair made small sexy noises. It became more and more difficult to stay enough in control to hold himself up. Jim thought about simply crushing Blair under him and coming in a blaze of glory.

The phone rang loudly.

Jim sighed and hid his face in Blair's curls. With an angry growl he grasped blindly for the phone. Blair froze under him, waiting for his lover's next move. There was an unbearable heat between them that needed relief. Listening for a few seconds, Jim tried to regain his composure before he replied. All his blood had pooled somewhere else.

"Okay, Simon. See you in a few," Jim rasped out.

Blair groaned. This job could kill a love life!

Blair pushed his curls behind his ears and stared out the window of the passenger seat of Jim's truck. Interrupted sex always made him cranky and moody.

"This Renfield case has made me think. That explosion was, like, so stupid! Danger has been following us around like some bad karma. This isn't normal!"

Jim raised an eyebrow. Where was this coming from?

"That's an exaggeration, Chief. Besides, you're always telling me normal is relative."

"Exaggeration?" Blair huffed. "We are at ground zero of every catastrophe that happens in the Pacific Northwest, man. We must be reaping some majorly bad karma here. The gods do not love us."

Jim gave him an affectionate grin. "How can anybody not love you?"

"C'mon, Romeo, you're my boyfriend, you're biased! I'm thinking one day our luck is going to run out. And bam!" He smacked his hands together. "Next thing we know, we'll be sitting on cloud nine playing harps."

"You sure you'll go to heaven?" Jim teased, "Juliet?"

"Fuck Juliet. Just because I have long hair doesn't mean I'm the girl in this relationship!" Blair sounded offended.

Jim laughed out loud. Blair always looked so cute when he got flustered like this.

"We are going to be more careful," Blair said as if he'd decided for both of them.

"Sure, Chief! I'm always careful." Jim agreed, humoring his lover.

"Right."

Jim hit the brakes and growled when he saw the number of police cars at the crime scene. Their free day was gone for sure.

"Hey, simmer down!" Blair laughed.

"You're not the one whose day off was canceled," Jim complained as he opened the car door.

Blair slipped out the truck, leaving the interrupted lovemaking unmentioned.

"As if that would make a difference? Where you go, I go."

"More like, where you come, I come," Jim murmured with a gleam in his eyes.

There was a tone in Jim's voice Blair had learned to recognize since they had become lovers. Jim could say something absolutely harmless, yet Blair always knew exactly what was going on in Jim's mind. The implied suggestions always triggered Blair's libido. He threw a heated glance in Jim's direction and made sure to walk in front of Jim so that Jim would get a good look at his ass.

The crime scene was, once again, in the warehouse district close to the waterfront. They were close enough to the docks that the smell of salt water was strong. Seagulls sailed lazily overhead.

Simon stood like a tower amidst a group of busy forensic people crouching close to the ground. Uniformed cops milled around, digging through litter and empty crates. Yellow tape outlined the whole area. When Blair spotted the row of body bags behind the SWAT van, he automatically drew nearer to Jim. The older man was alert and scanning the surroundings with a disgusted expression. His senses had already picked up the source of all this drama.

"Jim?" Simon greeted his detective. The Captain's face was etched deep with fatigue. "Sorry to wake you." He regarded Blair with an apologetic expression. "But this is one enormous mess. I want you to take this case. Forget Renfield, he's probably gone anyway."

"Where are they?" Jim asked bluntly.

Simon waved in the direction of a warehouse and led the way. Blair followed, curious about why they were here. Simon's face looked drained, which was always a bad sign.

"The private security guard found two men on his rounds. Both had been shot in the head. He called the cops. When they got here, they followed their noses and found the rest."

Boxes and crates filled the old brick warehouse. In a far corner stood a huge red cargo container that police had secured. Several of the forensic people in white overalls and masks were busily dusting it for fingerprints. Simon stepped forward, but hesitated and threw a concerned glance back at Blair.

"Chief, why don't you wait outside?" Jim asked.

Blair wanted to protest but decided against it and stepped back. The smell was quite strong even before Simon pulled open the cargo container. Jim clasped his hand over his nose and reeled back. The smell of feces and unwashed bodies was nearly overwhelming. Simon aimed his flashlight beam into the darkness and in the light of the small beam, corpses became visible. They had sunk against each other and were thrown together like rag dolls. The container was full of them, as if they had all stood squeezed in there and hadn't had enough room to fall.

"How many?" Jim gasped.

"We're not sure yet. Maybe twenty. They all look Asian. The ventilation holes were blocked, taped over, probably on purpose. It wouldn't have taken long for them to suffocate. Nobody could hear them outside the container. They were being illegally shipped into the country, probably yesterday morning. The two dead men outside are Asian too."

Simon closed the door again, his face ashen. He had seen it several times today, but it never got easier.

"Did the two escape?" Jim asked.

"Not likely. We think they were part of the smuggling operation. They were most likely here to take care of the transportation from here to their transition camp. A large truck is standing on the parking lot, maybe theirs. There's also a green car there, the same type used by Chris Ng's men. Can you detect anything?" Simon asked hopefully.

Jim gulped. The sweet, sickening stench of the bodies was overwhelming. Blair came forward, avoiding looking inside the container. He held his hand at the small of Jim's back and tried to stand firm despite the fact that he was in danger of losing his breakfast. He hadn't seen anything, but his imagination was working overtime from the smell alone.

Jim shook his head. "There's too much, Simon. I'm having trouble sorting it all out. Maybe... maybe I can get something off the two men."

Jim squatted over the two dead men. They were expensively dressed, bold tattoos visible beneath their shirts. Jim opened his senses but nothing obvious came forward. He fingered the front of their bodies where the first bullets had entered. His sense of touch informed him, even through the rubber glove, that the fabric was burned as if they had been shot at close range. Jim sniffed carefully at his fingertips. Blair stood over him and watched.

"Getting anything?"

"Don't know. The smell of the powder is kind of different. Maybe I'm imagining things."

"Looks like an execution," Simon guessed.

"Yeah. Shot first in the chest and then in the head to make sure. And no one bothered to disguise it either."

"They wanted to make a statement and give out a warning to all who might interfere."

Jim stood up and gazed around. On the perimeter of the crime scene, a small crowd of spectators had gathered. Jim zoomed in on a group of darkly-dressed Asian men who appeared to have taken an interest in the police investigation. A press truck pulled onto the street just beyond the yellow tape and the men left, moving hastily towards a set of dark cars. Jim waited patiently to get a glimpse of one of the license plates, memorizing the letters and numbers as the vehicles pulled away.

"C'mon, Chief. We need to get a few answers."

Jim wiped his hands on his pants. He had a grim, determined expression in his face and it was clear to Blair that Jim's excitement was gone. He walked behind his lover to the waiting truck.

Heavy rain fell that afternoon and the sky was dark gray. Blair had his hands pushed into his pockets and was following Jim's long stride down the park lane. The seaside park was deserted; the lawn had turned to mud and the pavement hosted a small river. It fitted both their moods.

"Why can't we meet this guy at a diner? Somewhere dry and warm?" Blair half-whined. "I mean, I've accepted that we won't be having sex anytime soon, but I could use at least some oral satisfaction. It's so cold, I can't feel my dick anymore, man."

His wet curls stuck to his skull and his jeans were soaked up to his thighs. Jim, unsettled by the weather, didn't answer. He walked even faster to the Mr. Tube Steak cart that stood in the rain. Two figures were huddled beneath roof of the cart.

"Hey, Ellison!" one of the men croaked in greeting.

He was an ugly man with a face marred by too much alcohol. He smelled like a goat stable even to an unenhanced sense of smell. Blair kept his distance.

"Barney? You got something for me?"

The man waved his napkin in front of Jim's face like a white flag.

"Not so fast, okay! First, we talk about payday."

"C'mon man, you got something to say, say it!" Blair told him bluntly.

Jim glanced over at Blair, who just shrugged. Barney was Jim's snitch, but he'd had just about enough of the rain and cold. He wanted back in his bed. And he wanted a back rub from his boyfriend.

"Hey, Sandburg. I remember when you were still a nice, friendly kid. Ellison totally ruined you. You picked up all his bad habits."

Jim snorted and John, the Mr. Tube Steak vendor, solemnly handed him a hot dog. Jim bit into it with relish. He finished it up so fast Blair thought he might take a bite out of Barney next.

The scraggy man shuffled around a bit.

"Chris Ng was running this business. Brought a load of people in every now and then. Spread them around, took care of everything. Papers, jobs, the girls."

"Who wants his turf now?" Jim said around a mouthful.

John, with a new hot dog in his hand, looked at Blair questioningly. Blair shook his head. He wasn't that hungry. He had yet to forget the awful sweet smell of decaying bodies.

"Tim Lung. He's new. He wanted to make Chris Ng's life miserable. With the container full of stiffs, Ng has lost face with the big bosses in Taiwan or wherever the hell they hide now the communists have Hong Kong back. Ng won't take it. One of them has to go."

Jim nodded and threw his paper napkin into the trash can. He reached inside his wallet and handed Barney a few bills.

"Don't waste it on the horses."

"You're not my mom, Ellison."

"We should go pay a little visit to Chris Ng," Jim suggested as they headed back to the truck.

"Simon said the two dead men are from Ng's gang?"

"Probably."

"I thought he was into smuggling drugs, not people."

"Well," Jim shrugged. "You know these mobster types. Finger in everything."

"So, tea time at the Scarlet Dragon again?" Blair said, remembering their last visit to the fancy restaurant in Chinatown that Chris Ng kept as a cover for his real business.

"Yup," Jim agreed.

"And this Tim... what's his name?"

"Like Barney said, he's new. An ambitious guy who wants to take over Chris Ng's throne in Chinatown. They have all gambling clubs, girls and drugs."

"Just like Ng."

"Yup. And Cascade isn't big enough for both of them."

They had reached the truck, and Blair opened the door. Jim's nostrils flared. Blair's wet hair and clothes filled the cab of the truck with a weird smell. Jim wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

"I can't imagine what it might have been like, inside there... with no air. They just wanted a better life." Blair shivered in his passenger seat. "All that just to make Chris Ng look bad."

"These Triad mobsters fight dirty, all about power and honor and losing face. Those people would have been like slaves, Chief, working for Ng forever to pay off their passage. The women turned into hookers, the men doing work no one else wanted to do. It would have been worse than at home." Jim glanced at Blair. "People will always think there is a better life somewhere waiting for them and men like Chris Ng exploit them, taking their life savings and selling them into slavery."

Blair nodded and groaned when they turned into Chinatown. He was still wet and it was going to be a long day. He reminded himself that the people in the container would have preferred their day to be as long.

"We've got to get these assholes, Jim."

Blocks away, the busy Chinatown street was full of pedestrians despite the bad weather. The Scarlet Dragon wasn't open yet, but two men, obviously guards, stood in front and watched the street.

Suddenly, shots burst from a passing car. Jerking around, the two guards drew their guns, but not fast enough to take their killers with them. The bullets hit them squarely in their chests. Screams echoed through the small street as everyone ran for cover. Before the guards' bodies had even hit the ground, three dark sedans with black windows stopped in front of the restaurant.

Three men from each car jumped out and opened fire at the restaurant with machine guns. The bullets tore the front apart, reducing it to kindling. The red dragons and lamps that decorated the facade burst into thousands of pieces. Window glass shattered and fell inside the restaurant. The gunmen kept firing even after it was obvious no one and nothing could possibly still be alive.

The leader barked an order and a man with a bazooka stepped forward and fired toward the restaurant. The projectile hit inside the restaurant and the resultant explosion consumed what was left of the structure. Fire leapt from every opening in the front of the building.

Jim stepped on the accelerator, throwing Blair against the door, when he heard the shooting start.

"Jim?! What the hell?"

"Gunfire."

Jim turned left into the street and spotted the fire and smoke.

"Oh, shit! At Chris Ng's restaurant!"

The sound of sirens was coming closer. The Triad group leader barked at his men and waved them back to the cars. One man after another drew back. Two secured the area. They jumped back into their cars with military discipline. With solid thuds, the car doors closed and the group took off, running red lights in blatant disregard for other traffic. Cars behind them crashed into each other, effectively blocking the street. Jim's truck was nearly sideswiped by one out-of-control vehicle before he came to a screeching halt behind a pair of collided cars. Jim pounded his steering wheel in frustration. They were trapped.

"Shit! Shit!"

Jim looked around frantically. There was no way he could squeeze the truck through the chaos and wreckage surrounding them. A city bus stopped at the street corner. It took Jim two seconds to form a plan. He jumped from the truck and ran towards the bus.

"Oh, boy!" Blair realized his partner's intentions and hopped out behind him.

Jim pounded on the door of the bus and held his shield up. The driver opened the door. The bus was almost empty.

"Police! I need to confiscate the bus!" Jim roared.

The few passengers left hurriedly. The driver left his seat like it was on fire. Jim threw himself in the driver's seat and glanced at the controls. Satisfied with what he saw, he stepped on the gas pedal. The bus lurched forward and Jim steered the wheel to navigate the bus into the middle of the street.

"Jim! Jim! Hold it!" Blair shouted.

Blair ran after the bus as fast as he could. No way was he going to be left behind. The back door was still open and Blair reached for it with his last ounce of strength and speed. The bus slowed a bit when Jim searched for a way to follow the black cars through the traffic. Blair took his chance. With a crazy leap, he threw himself inside the bus, landing on all fours.

"Hey, glad you came!" Jim shouted with a wolfish grin. "Last stop in Hell!"

Blair made a face at Jim and tried to get up -- which wasn't easy considering Jim's crazed driving. The bus swayed like a drunk and Blair had trouble keeping himself from rolling across the floor. Slowly he worked himself forward to where Jim was, clinging to the rails like a lifeline.

"They're heading toward the bridge!" Jim noted. "We need a way to block them."

"I'll call Simon!" Blair shouted, lying half on a seat.

Jim nodded over his shoulder and swerved to avoid hitting a small car.

"Oh, shit!" Jim stepped on the brake.

The bus swerved dangerously to the left side of the road. The driver honked angrily at them.

"Get off the road, jackass!" He snarled. "Idiot!"

Jim remained in the middle of the road, sure he was plainly visible to anyone.

"Had no idea you could drive a bus."

"It's a lot like a tank."

"A tank!? That explains everything!" Blair muttered.

The men inside the dark cars had spotted the bus. They attempted to escape but the traffic was thick and the bus was closing in. Jim saw the leader closing his cell phone with a satisfied smile. The sedans stopped for a moment and then separated into three directions.

"Damn it!" Jim swore. "Just when I had them almost cornered! They're getting away!"

Blair frantically dialed the phone again, calling for backup. Jim hunched over the wheel concentrating on the waving sedans. He wanted the leader of the pack. His eyes zeroed on the car heading to left. With a mad grin, he followed. Blair had managed to come up behind Jim and was holding on to the back of the driver's seat.

Police sirens wailed in the distance. Jim's expression was grim as he closed in on the lead sedan. Just as he was about to reach it, another sedan pulled up beside them.

Jim's head jerked around. A black window went down and a gun pointed at the bus tires. Blair was torn between watching and finding somewhere to hide.

"Hold on!" Jim yelled to Blair before turning to face the sedan. "C'mon, let's see what you're made of, pal!"

Jim steered the bus to the left to bump into the sedan but it was too late. The bullets had already done the damage. With a crack, the bus's left front tire burst and Jim lost control. Helplessly, the lumbering bus skittered across the street and directly into a bus stop. The metal and glass shredded with an awful sound. Jim was thrown out of the driver's seat. Blair curled on the floor, seemingly none the worse for wear.

"Simon is going to love this," Blair declared ominously.

Jim threw Blair a disgusted glance as if Blair headed the plot to remove all fun from his job. He studied the mess. It wasn't that bad: there were no casualties.

Simon was fuming. Blair watched from Jim's desk in the bullpen while the captain chewed Jim out in his office. Finally Simon opened the door.

"Rhonda, get the Chinese embassy again. They need to send someone who can identify all these people," he barked.

Jim slouched out, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked a bit defeated. Simon went back into his office but not before he threw a warning glance at Blair. The younger man slumped a bit in his chair, attempting to become invisible.

"How bad is it?" Blair whispered.

"Simon ripped me a new one but that's all."

"So we don't have to give out parking tickets for the rest of our lives?" Blair chuckled.

"Worse!" Jim muttered gravely.

"What? Department of Sanitation escort duty? Permanent night-shift at the morgue?"

"Simon thinks you should drive from now on."

Blair laughed out loud and several heads turned in their direction.

"Well, he is the captain."

Jim growled and smacked him. Blair fended him off easily and giggled. Jim had to grin.

"You really had me going there for a moment. Okay, so don't keep me in suspense. What's it going to be?" Blair asked.

Jim gave him a sly smile. Blair knew that expression. It always made him want to run for cover.

The floor vibrated as the airplane engine started. Jim pretended to be unconcerned but the noise of the huge airport was wearing down his control over the dials. For hours they had been strolling between the cargo loading docks, watching the airplanes being loaded and unloaded, following the cargo trucks to storage, pestering the ground personnel with questions about suspicious freight. It was the middle of the night but the place was lit so well it could have been noon. The Cascade Airport never slept.

"We're never going to find anything, man. I'm sure they already removed all the evidence," Blair griped hopelessly. "And I doubt Ng is hiding out here. After they blew out his restaurant, he's probably on his way to whatever Chinese rock he crawled out from under right now."

Jim wasn't having it. "I called Barney. He's heard that Ng's plane is going out of here tonight. Nobody knows where Tim Lung is, but I bet he'll show up soon to give Chris Ng his final farewell."

"Maybe in the old part of the airport. There are still some hangars in use."

Jim shoved Blair forward impatiently.

"Giddyup, Toto!"

"Woof."

Few workers were in evidence as they walked through the old hangars. The asphalt was broken and the buildings needed more than just a fresh coat of paint. The place looked like a graveyard for airplanes. Suddenly Jim stopped and cocked his head. Blair laid a hand on his arm.

"Over here, Chief."

They slipped inside a dark building. Creeping along the walls, they approached the back door to the main hall. Blair could hear the Asian voices through the corrugated iron walls. In front of them stood a half-open door. Through it, Blair could see a cargo plane and a group of people sitting on the floor next to it. Three men seemed to be guarding them with drawn guns.

"What now?" Blair whispered urgently.

"We wait."

Blair rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable.

One of the guards' cell phones beeped and he answered the call speaking Cantonese.

"Damn it. I can't understand a word," Jim growled.

Blair sighed.

"Watch the body language," he suggested.

"No need to read any body language, Sandburg, they're leaving."

Blair scrambled up to peek over Jim's shoulder. Jim observed them intently. The group of prisoners was ushered onto the plane. They were men and women, all of whom appeared to be Chinese. One of the guards opened the hangar doors while the others climbed into the cockpit. The engines revved up and Jim ran, unseen, close to the plane with Blair on his heels. The back door of the cargo plane was still open, and they climbed in.

The prisoners were held in a small storage compartment. Jim could hear their low, nervous murmurs. There were a lot of boxes stenciled with Handle With Care. Jim crouched behind them, dragging Blair down with him. The plane rolled out to the airfield. Blair looked around and saw a stack of parachute packs. He grabbed one and started to fasten it on his back. The prospect of being high over the ground wasn't something he was looking forward to.

The third guard clambered into the plane and they immediately took off. Blair looked expectantly at Jim, not sure what he was up to. The older man held his gun ready in his hand in case they were discovered. But the guard went to join his pals in the cockpit. The draft from the open door was freezing cold.

"This sucks! Why don't they close the door?" Blair whispered, shivering.

Jim studied the boxes, trying to figure out what was in them.

"In case they have to dump their load before landing," he answered absently.

Blair gulped and inched closer to Jim.

"Do you have a plan?" He asked.

"I want to know where they are operating from. I bet wherever this plane is going, Chris Ng is there, hiding."

"What if they're heading to Canada?"

Jim gave him an exasperated glance. The plane hit an air pocket and lunged dangerously. Boxes fell to the floor. Another bump set a whole row of boxes crashing into Jim, knocking him over as his gun hit the metal floor with a loud clang. The door of the cockpit opened and Blair heard someone swear. The man immediately raised his gun when he spotted Blair cowering behind the fallen boxes.

"Hands up!" he yelled.

"Okay, okay!" Blair tried to calm the man. "Tom told me you were headed to Canada and I thought I could catch a lift, man."

He stood up and smiled inanely. The man was puzzled for a moment.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Jim searched desperately for his gun, but it was out of reach. The man aimed his gun at Blair. Blair stared wide-eyed at the black muzzle. Jim had to stop this. Now.

Jim sprang toward the gunman, who was precariously close to the open door. Exactly at that moment, the plane lunged again and he missed the man, catching only his jacket. Jim fell, dragging the man away from Blair. The man tried to hit Jim with the gun but lost his balance. Jim scrambled desperately for anything to hold on to as he tumbled across the floor towards the open cargo door. In terrible slow motion, Blair saw that they wouldn't make it.

"Jim!"

Then they were gone, sucked out through the door. Blair plunged after them without thinking.

The rushing air hit him in the face. His eyes burned and he could barely see. Trying not to tumble, he found a balance. He didn't want to look down so instead he tried to focus on his lover. There, Jim was under him, plunging towards the ground.

"Jim! Jim!" He screamed at top of his lungs.

Jim was falling but he'd spread-eagled to slow his fall. Blair was scared out of his mind. He was sure he had only one opportunity to catch his lover in mid-air. He sucked his breath in, the fear like pain in his body, and dipped. He angled his body and pressed his arms and legs together. His descent sped up and quickly, he was closing in to Jim. With absolute panic, he realized that he would pass over him at this speed. With a cry of sheer desperation he tried to change his angle again and slow down.

"Oh, my god! Please, please, please, please, please..."

He spread his arms towards Jim, determined to grip at anything. He was able to catch the back of Jim's jacket but the speed difference between the two men was too great. He felt his fingers slipping from the smooth garment. Clawing like mad he sobbed. This was the ultimate horror. He would lose Jim, forced to watch him fall.

They descended for several seconds. Blair wouldn't let go, but neither could he get a better hold on Jim. Then Jim's arm reached back gripping Blair's arm. Jim turned himself around and managed to wrap himself around Blair. Holding on for dear life, Jim opened the parachute.

Blair cried and pressed himself against Jim. He couldn't believe their luck. Jim wasn't relieved yet. They had opened the parachute almost too late and their combined weight meant they were falling too fast.

Jim peered down at the hard ground of the bare winter fields. The moment before they hit the ground, he let go of Blair and pushed him away. Both men fell hard. Blair cried out. Jim scrambled up, scared that Blair had landed badly.

"Chief! Blair!" He shouted. "You okay, buddy?"

Blair moaned and rolled around on the ground.

"Easy, easy! Hold still!" Jim ordered gently.

Desperately, he freed Blair from the billowing parachute and tried to find out where Blair was injured. But the younger man just sobbed squirming and held his leg.

"My ankle hurts. I think something broke. Shit!"

"Hold still, Chief, and let me look at it."

Jim opened the shoe with great care and ran his fingers over the foot and joint. He couldn't feel any broken bones. He sighed, relieved.

"I think you only sprained it."

Blair sighed, and looked back toward the horizon where the airplane was disappearing. Jim stood up. The perps had escaped.

For now.