"Blair Sandburg you are sentenced to twenty years," the judge stated in his heavily accented English. He repeated the sentence in Spanish for the rest of the court's benefit.

"But I didn't do anything!" Blair shouted. "I'm innocent!!"

"Guard, take him away," the judge ordered without bothering to even acknowledge the anthropologist's words. "Clear the court."

Blair was physically removed from the court by the burley guard. Though Blair scoffed at the word 'court'; the analogy in itself was totally corrupt because it had in no way, shape or form been a court. It had been a room with a man who had said he was a judge, there had been no jury and he hadn't had legal representation. He hadn't been allowed a phone call or access to a lawyer. Nothing. It had all happened frighteningly fast.

Blair was lead along unaware of his surroundings. He wasn't even sure where he was. He was oblivious to everything other than the words 'twenty years'. How could he be sentenced to twenty years in prison when he hadn't done anything wrong?

It was all a terrible mistake which was now turning into a horrible nightmare.

And he wasn't sure when he was going to wake up.

Was it only yesterday when he had been a free man? When his life had been normal and he had been simply Blair Sandburg, anthropologist, grad student and part time Police observer. Oh God!! What was Jim going to say when he found out? It didn't bear thinking about.

Next thing Blair was aware of was that he was in the back of a van and they were moving. He didn't know where they were going but then the rational part of his mind realised it had to be to prison. He'd been sentenced. He still couldn't comprehend the horror of his situation. He realised he was still wearing the clothes he'd had on yesterday when he had been arrested and he suddenly felt sully and dirty. A guard was sat next to him and he realised with disdain that he didn't look any cleaner than he did. Blair moved a little to get more comfortable on the hard bench of the van's seat but the distinctive rattle of chains distracted him. His hands were manacled together but at least his legs were still free. The guard was staring into space, uncaring about Blair's situation. He did the job he was paid for and nothing else. The interior of the van was dark, only a small windows with bars in each side affording in any light. The windows had all too evident bars in them.

I guess I had better get used to that Blair thought wryly. How had it gotten to this? It was wild.

Two days ago he was still in Cascade. He had been in his office at Rainier University when a professor had entered to ask him if he could fly as soon as he possible could to El Valparaiso, a small South American country, where the university currently had a dig in operation. One of the students had been taken ill and had been flown back to Cascade. The professor wondered if Blair could take her place for two weeks. Only two weeks. Blair had jumped at the opportunity as any anthropologist would. But in hindsight Blair could only think if he had said no then he wouldn't be in this predicament.

He had flown to El Valparaiso with no problems. The first night he had spent in a hotel and was planning to travel to the dig site the following day. It had been that night at the hotel when his world had fallen apart.

Whilst he had been having dinner alone the Police had entered the hotel's dining room and headed straight for Blair. They had told him he was suspected of possessing and trafficking drugs. Blair almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but they had seemed deadly serious. Blair thought it was a misunderstanding and he could easily sort the problem out. The Police officers had insisted on searching his room. Blair had nothing to hide so he had consented to the search and accompanied them and watched as they went through his belongings.

Then one of the Police officers had stopped and pulled out a bag of white powder from between some of his clothing. The man said something in Spanish to the other officer and they had both glanced at the grad student. Blair looked at each of them in turn in a state of utter shock.

"I've never seen that before," Blair told them.

"They all say that señor," the one who had found the drugs stated. "Blair Sandburg you are under arrest for the possession of drugs. I must warn you señor that it is a very serious offence in this country. We do not tolerate drug possession or drug smuggling."

"Drug smuggling!! Are you nuts! I don't do drugs, I barely even tolerate aspirin let alone anything stronger."

"The drugs are in your room," the first policeman said as if that statement automatically qualified his guilt.

The second officer moved forward and secured handcuffs on Blair's wrists behind his back.

"There's been a terrible mistake," Blair said trying to think what to do. "I need to make a phone call."

Blair knew he had to phone Jim; he would sort this mess out.

"This is not America, Señor Sandburg. You don't get a phone call in El Valparaiso."

"But I need to tell my friends I need help."

"That is up for the judge to decide. Please come quietly and no troubles," the man's English deteriorating slightly.

And that was that. Blair found himself in a cell in a small police station overnight. The cell was small, smelly and damp. Blair couldn't sleep for worry. He couldn't help but think of Jim thousands of miles away in Cascade. How would he find out about his arrest? What would he say about it? He would be missed at the dig but they were in the middle of nowhere. When he didn't arrive would they raise the alarm? Blair knew the dig's leader Professor Smithson would have a satellite phone for emergencies and be able to call the US. He just wondered if they would.

Next morning he had been taken to the court, such as it was. Tried and convicted.

Now as the van trundled along to its final destination, all Blair could do was hope that Jim quickly found out he was in trouble. Because if there was ever a time he needed a speedy helping hand from the Sentinel, it was now.

CALAVERAS PRISON, OUTSKIRTS OF SAN MERCED, EL VALPARAISO

Calaveras Prison in El Valparaiso sat on the outskirts of the small town of San Merced. It was an old prison, built over fifty years previously. It was old and it was basic. It was known locally as "La cárcel del infierno" – the prison from hell.

The prison van went through the gate of the prison and Blair felt his heart sink. This was it the reality of his situation. Blair was bundled out of the van and he glanced round at his new home. The van had stopped in a yard surrounded on all side by white staccato walls. Insurmountable walls. Blair had never felt so trapped, so hemmed in. Blair was the only prisoner and he was taken into a building. He was processed, told to shower and put on his prison clothing, a simple grey tunic and trousers, all the time watched by a guard. Privacy now a thing of the past. A doctor checked him over briefly and then he was taken through to an inner room where he couldn't help but focus on the sounds of the clicking keys and rattling of doors, as they were opened and closed behind him and his guard.

"Wait here," the guard ordered and Blair waited outside a door as the guard went inside.

Blair's mind wandered to thoughts of Jim and if he had gone through the same apprehension and fear when he had gone undercover at Starkville Prison. He must have as only a fool wouldn't feel fear when surrounded by prisoners. At least Jim had known he could get out at any time, the grad student didn't know when, or if, his nightmare would ever end.

"Come this way Señor Sandburg," the guard said and Blair moved forward.

The anthropologist was taken into an office and made to stand by a desk. A man was sat behind the desk looking down at a report in front of him. He was in his late forties with black hair that was starting to grey at the temples. He was wearing an expensive brown suit that looked decidedly out of place in the prison.

The man didn't look up and continued to read as he started to speak in English.

"Welcome Blair Sandburg to Calaveras Prison. I am Warden Calvino Arroyo. But you will address me as Mr Arroyo or sir at all times. Do you understand?" and he glanced up from his report.

"Yes..." Blair replied and the warden's eyes rose. "Sir."

"Very good," the warden continued. "You have been sentenced to twenty years for drug possession. It says you are implicated as also being a probable drug smuggler. Your sentence would be greatly reduced if you gave up the name of your contacts."

"I have no idea where they got the idea that I was smuggling drugs from. I didn't even know the drugs were in my room."

"They do not materialise by themselves," the warden added.

"They must have been planted."

"Why? By whom?"

"I don't know. I don't know anyone here."

"You have only been in our country a couple of days. It seems you are lying."

"No, no I'm not!" Blair replied entreatingly. "Mr Arroyo I need to contact my friends in America, tell them what's happened. I haven't been given a phone call or access to a lawyer."

"This is not America Señor Sandburg."

"So, I've been told," Blair replied wryly. "I can't prove my innocence from in here, I need help to do that....sir," Blair added hastily.

"I'll see what I can do," the warden continued.

"Thank you," Blair breathed, thinking that perhaps he had started the first step in finally getting help out of this mess.

"Garcia take prisoner Sandburg to the cells."

Blair's stomach lurched at the reality of his situation. When was he going to wake up from this insanity?

Blair was lead through the prison in a daze. Blair had only ever seen the inside of institutions like this when he had gone undercover at Connover to trap a serial murderer and later to back Jim up when he went undercover at the prison. His ideas of a prison were based on his experiences at Starkville and that this prison would be similar, but this place: This place was hell. It felt different, as it felt starker and also filled him with fear. The prison was everything he expected from a country like El Vaparaiso. It was basic in the extreme. He could hear the shouts of men in the distance, tortured souls in this hellhole. He walked beside Garcia, half still in a daze and half taking in his surroundings.

"Here we are Sandburg," the guard said stopping in front of a door, the interior of the cell visible beyond it.

Blair could see through the grid-like metal door into a large dark, dingy cell that could hold at least twenty other prisoners, and now me Blair thought defeatedly on the verge of panic. He took a deep breath to steady himself, he couldn't lose it now. He couldn't show any form of weakness in the prison, there was always a hierarchy in these places. The strong always trying to dominate the weak. He had to show a strong tough exterior at all times, no matter if he was churning up inside.

"You're free to move around during the day but at night you must report here or if there is a lock down," the guard stated. "Comprende?" and Blair nodded in astonishment.

Blair stumbled inside and turned round looking round at his surroundings. The cell had staccato walls on three side, the wall opposite had a small opening at the top with vertical bars, so at least some air got into the dark room despite it being warm air from the country's oppressive day time heat. The guard walked away and Blair was left alone. He could hear the sound of the prisoners in the distance. He looked round the cell, it was basic, some blankets on the floor but no beds.

"Hola, eres nuevo," a man said in Spanish from the outside the cell. "La bienvenida a la cárcel del infinerno. Lo que en la?"

"I wish I knew," Blair replied, as he had some knowledge of Spanish.

"I'm Cesaro Covas," the man said switching to English. "I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but this hellhole is no pleasure."

"Blair Sandburg. You speak English very well," he replied looking at the man. He had a mop of untidy grey hair, with a wrinkled face with two dark brown eyes and a toothless grin.

"Si, you're an Americano," and Blair nodded.

"I was in the country on an expedition and wham next thing I know I'm in this place. They found drugs in my hotel room but I have no idea how they got there."

"You're innocent?"

"Hey isn't everyone who ends up in prison," Blair fired back not a little sarcastically.

"Not all of us."

"You're guilty of your crime."

"Yeah I killed two people"

"Oh god!" Blair uttered and took a step back.

"Don't worry you're not in any danger. That was forty years ago. I killed my wife and her lover. Dirty bitch," he said and the memories of his wife in bed with his best friend still elicited anger even four decades later.

"You've been in this place all that time?" Blair asked.

The man nodded and Blair thought he could see a hint of madness there. Though the man looked harmless enough.

"How long did they give you?" Cesaro asked.

"Twenty years."

"Is that all!? You'll still be out before me," he replied with dark humour. "They mean me to die in this place. You don't get paroled from Calaveras Prison when they give you a life sentence. The only way you get of this place is if you manage to complete your sentence or you escape."

"I have to get word to my friends back home, they'll sort it out. I have to contact my friend Jim."

"There's no way to get messages out, I've tried. The guards are very good at intercepting messages and the only phone is in the warden's office. Too many locked doors between here and there amigo. Your friends back in America will help you huh?"

"Yes," Blair replied.

"Then my advice to you is to sit tight and wait for your friends to help you, and maybe they'll be able sort it out for you."

Blair sincerely hoped the old man was right. The anthropologist wondered how long it would be before he was missed.

"What about you? You have friends that can help you?"

"No friends anymore," Cesaro said and not a little sadly. "At first I had family and friends come visit me, give me moral support, but as the years went on, the visits got less and less. Most of my family is long dead now. Or the ones that aren't I'm dead to them anyway. I'm 77 boy and lost my idealism a long time ago. I don't regret killing my wife, she deserved it; but I do regret wasting my life in this place. You lose your dignity and pride in a place like this, where everything is done for you. It claims your soul over the years, gets under your skin and you become one with the place," his eyes boring into Blair's as he spoke. Those eyes scared Blair a little and he could see the insanity warring with reason. "Let me give you a piece of advice. A warning you could say. You seem a nice boy. Some of the prisoners aren't very nice, so you keep a low profile, you hear. Your pale skin and blue eyes, and not least your hair, makes you stand out. Don't get into any trouble or fights. The guards are as corrupt as the prisoners at times. Come I'll introduce you to some of the good ones. They're all guilty as sin, but underneath are a pretty decent lot."

Blair was introduced to a wide range of felons who only spoke Spanish, but he could understand them enough. Cesaro took the grad student under his wing and told him the people to avoid and the day to day machinations of the prison's workings. To Blair it was a whole new education, one he never thought he would ever discover, nor ever wanted to.

"This isn't like US prisons I imagine." Cesaro stated. "Most of the time we are left with nothing to do in here, to think about our old lives I think. What we lost and what we left behind. Only I've been here so long I can't remember what my old life was like anymore," and he laughed bitterly at his own joke.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Blair said genuinely.

"Being sorry doesn't help in here. You can be sorry about a lot of things: Your crime, your life, but it won't reduce your sentence or get you out earlier. There is no leniency in my country's legal system."

"You speak English very well," Blair commented.

"I was a teacher before I came here."

"Did you teach English?" Blair asked.

"Yes and history. What about you Blair. What do you do?"

"I'm an anthropologist and I teach too. I'm a grad student working on my doctorate. Well I was," Blair added bitterly.

"I doubt they'd let you study in here. There are very few books. The system doesn't care whether their felons are educated or not. When I first came here, I tried to teach some of the inmates how to read and write. Most are illiterate. But I stopped in the end."

"Why?"

"Some were keen and I know I helped a number of people. I think it was apathy in the end. Most people who end up at this prison get long sentences. A lot never leave this place and they lost interest. In time so did I. Looking back I wish I had've continued but after a few years this place got to me too. I became as apathetic as the rest of the poor dregs of humanity in here."

The prison was sounding more and more depressing by the second. Tears sprang to Blair's eyes at the aloneness and desolation he was feeling. How was he going to survive the night let alone a day, a week, a month or God forbid years in this place? No! He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Jim would get him out. Jim and Simon. He would be missed and they would investigate and discover why there were drugs in his room and who put them there. Then he would be exonerated and he could go home and continue with his life.

He would be free then.

He just had to be patient and remain strong until then.

Strong like his friendship with his Sentinel.

He could be strong like steel, like a mighty ship that sailed over the vastest of oceans, that could withstanding powerful storms and huge pounding waves.

But then his analogy turned dark like his situation. The Titanic was supposed to have been the strongest ship ever built and unsinkable and look what happened to her. Definitely time to think of something else the anthropologist groaned.

Think positive thoughts he told himself. He could endure and wait for Jim. When Jim came everything would be okay then. Blair was determined to remain positive and optimistic, whatever this place could throw at him. He kept thinking of Jim coming to his rescue. The detective had saved his life before at his darkest of hours and he knew he would again. The sounds of a distant scuffle assaulted his ears and the shouts of men in a rage followed by the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Blair closed his eyes. He didn't like this place, it was barbaric and alien. He felt claustrophobic and hemmed in. Keeping his eyes closed he willed himself to remain calm.

But he couldn't stop a single tear escaping from behind his closed lids and sliding haphazardly down his face. He wiped at it annoyed with himself for its escape. No tears he told himself, he had to remain strong.

La cárcel del infinerno (the prison from hell) – would not claim his soul.

Next morning after a surreal night (the sounds of prisoners, the unfamiliar smells and strangeness of it all and after breakfast, or what passed for it in the prison) Blair was taken back to the warden's office. Arroyo was behind his desk reading some paperwork when Blair was escorted in by one of the guards. Garcia left the anthropologist alone with the warden and went back outside the office, closing the door behind him. There was a perceptible quiet in the office as Blair stood before the warden's desk. He didn't look up for several moments.

"Are you settling in Sandburg to the prison environment?"

"Yes, sir," he replied, wondering why the warden wanted to see him.

"Yesterday I asked you to give me the names of your suppliers. I have reviewed your file and you are an educated man. I would hate to see you spend twenty years of your life in this place. Twenty of some of the best years of your life. You will be forty-eight when you leave this facility."

Blair's mind was hanging on to the fact that he wouldn't be spending the next two decades banged up once Jim and Simon knew he was in trouble. Justice would prevail and his innocence would be upheld.

"Mr Arroyo, yesterday I told you I didn't have a supplier, I still don't."

"Pity," the warden replied sadly. "Sandburg I can make your life in my prison either easier or harder for you. Take your pick."

Now Blair was on alert as he wondered why this man was so desperate to learn the names of his 'non-existent' drugs contacts. He remained silent instead.

"Pity," Arroyo said sadly. "Guard!!" he shouted and the door opened. "Take Sandburg back."

"Si, patron," the guard announced and he ushered Blair out.

Warden Arroyo watched the closed door after the guard and the Americano prisoner had left, and his eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips in thought. He would learn the names of the Americano's drugs supplier, no matter what lengths he had to go to get them.

Cesaro watched for Blair as he was escorted back. He was concerned over why the warden wanted to see him so soon after his arrival. He saw Blair talking to the young kid, Raul who was only nineteen, and was a good kid. He'd gotten caught shoplifting, his five year sentence harsh. But El Valparaiso's justice system was not squeamish about handing out tough sentences.

Since Blair's appearance Cesaro had felt nothing but sadness. In the young Americano he could see himself, or what he had been the first few years of his incarceration before the apathy and the despondency had settled in. Blair was educated and intelligent. He didn't belong in this place. Cesaro looked round at the inmates and sadly realised that so many of the prisoners didn't in fact deserve to be where they were. Okay some did, but ones like Raul who's crime had been his first offence, should have been given a warning or just a few months in prison at the most.

Cesaro sighed. No chance of ever being released he had been told at his trial, he would die in prison. The years in the prison had desensitised him to actually being there and he had gone round in an almost numb daze. But Blair's youth and vitality had reminded him of what he had once been, not this husk, this shell he had now become. Now Cesaro felt nothing but sadness and emptiness as he realised he was an empty void inside.

Blair felt like having a shower all the time. The prison made him feel forever dirty and unclean.

Blair surveyed the immediate area of the shower block and all was quiet, he didn't have Jim's hearing but he couldn't detect anyone. Stripping off quickly Blair ran under the hot jet of water. He luxuriated for a few seconds, forgetting where he was for a few moments. Letting the water wash away everything he had been through. Reality soon bit as he thought that he had lingered too long in the luxury of feeling clean when he only ever felt unclean and dirty in this place. He heard movement behind him and four men came into the room. They moved quickly over to him. He hesitated a moment, the spray hitting his back and cascading over his shoulders and down the front of his chest.

The men were easily as tall as Jim and they surrounded him on all sides. One of them turned off the shower. Water continued to drip off Blair's body and run away.

They didn't speak but just gazed at him longingly. Blair felt the vestiges of fear claw at his stomach. He didn't know what to do. One of the men behind his left shoulder raked his hand through his wet hair. Blair shivered with fright and also from cold as the hot water had turned cold on his wet skin. Water still dripped from both his hair and his body.

The one in front of him was staring into his blue eyes, his brown eyes showing the lust he wasn't bothering to hide. His pupils looked larger than they should be and Blair wondered if he was strung out on something.

"Fresh meat," one of them said in Spanish.

"...blue eyes," he heard another say.

Oh God Blair thought.

He could hear a waterfall of sound in his ears, a rush of fear coursing through him and he thought his legs might buckle from the dread and loathing he was feeling. One hand touched his shoulder, then down his back roving enticingly lower. Another hand touched his chest, fingers raking though his chest hair. Blair shuddered as the hands roved lower and he wondered with disgust when they would touch his most private of areas.

Blair's mind was racing. Should he fight back and risk their anger or lie back and think of England, submit submissively to them and get the inevitable over with. If he managed to escape now he wouldn't be able to avoid their advances for the next twenty years. Blair felt a strange sort of resignation surge inside of him. He knew he had to fight them but he wasn't sure he had the strength to.

A noise beyond the shower room caught the four men's attention and they stopped wondering if a guard was patrolling. Some guards turned a blind eye but some reported things like beatings and rape.

The anthropologist recovered first and slipped between two of the distracted men and ran. He ran to the changing room where Raul waited with his clothes.

"Blair this way!"

Blair didn't hesitate and followed the younger man. Out of sight of the showers the student dried himself quickly and dressed as his friend kept a look out for the men or a guard.

"Thanks Raul," Blair said after he was dressed and towelling his hair.

"You're welcome Blair. They're mean hombres. They try it on with all the new prisoners."

"Did they...did they try anything with you?" and Raul nodded. "Did they...hurt you?"

Raul shook his head. "No, Cesaro saved me and now I saved you."

"Yes, you did," Blair replied and smiled his gratitude but making a mental note to be even more vigilant in the face of one SOB of a warden, corrupt guards and rapist prisoners. God what a place Blair thought with revulsion.

The next couple of days Blair spent trying to acclimatise to losing his freedom. He was horrified at how quickly he was adjusting to an institutionalised way of life. The days were the same and routine soon became ingrained into all the prisoners. The anthropologist in him was still evident and he found himself surreptitiously watching the inmates and how they interacted with their fellows. He found because of his white appearance he stuck out and he tried to keep a low profile as much as possible and stay in the background. He talked to Cesaro and Raul, plus a few others. Cesaro had a sharp mind and wit and the grad student soon became good friends with the older man. He had a wide range of knowledge on a lot of things and the grad student had found a kindred academic spirit. Blair found Raul a smart kid who had had a tough start and without realising it he automatically started to teach him English and Raul taught him more Spanish. It helped pass the long days and longer nights.

Overall Blair found prison depressing. It took away your dignity and self respect. He'd only been in the place two days and the grad student felt a soul sucking depression descending over him. He wasn't sure how he would endure a long period of incarceration – like twenty years. Every time he felt a dark lassitude creeping over him he thought of Jim and knew his friend would fight for him. He had to keep reminding himself, no matter how hard that was, to keep a positive bearing and optimism going. A sort of mantra to himself. Blair sighed sadly. It was just getting harder to keep positive thoughts when everything around you was discouraging and demoralising.

There wasn't a repeat of the attack in the shower. The men soon moved on to pick on other victims. Blair was sorry for them but at the same time he was also glad it wasn't him who was in their sights.

"Raul have you seen Cesaro?" Blair asked as he entered a large room where a number of the prisoners hung out during the day.

"He went back towards the cells a while ago," he replied in Spanish and the nineteen year old shrugged "He didn't say why."

Blair walked back to the cell he shared with Cesaro and twenty other prisoners. It was unusual for any of them to go back to the cells during the day, as they spent enough of their time there at night to even contemplate spending a minute longer there during the day.

"Cesaro!"

Blair stopped at the open cell door, his eyes unable to comprehend the horror they were witnessing inside.

"Help me!" Blair finally screamed after a few moments as his brain kicked back into gear. He rushed into the cell. He moved to the far wall where Cesaro was hanging from the bars. Lengths of ripped shirt had been woven together into a rope and was tied tightly round his throat. Cesaro's legs were hanging in mid-air and he wasn't moving. A bucket was overturned nearby. There were no signs of a struggle, it was obvious that Cesaro had deliberately hung himself.

Desperately Blair took his friend's weight to force pressure off his neck. But in taking his friend's legs he couldn't reach up for enough to remove the ligature himself.

"Help!!" he screamed again. "It's alright Cesaro, I've got you!"

A guard finally appeared followed by a second one. One guard took Cesaro's legs from the grad student and then pushed him out of the way. Then between them the guards released the hanging man and then lay him on the floor.

"Está muerto," one of the guards said in Spanish without checking.

"No, he's not dead!!" Blair screamed and bent down to check his friend. He checked for a pulse, there wasn't one and he could plainly see his windpipe was crushed.

Why would his friend do this? It didn't make sense.

Blair looked at the unfeeling guards. They didn't care about Cesaro, he was just another prisoner to them with no value. Damn it they were still human beings whether they were guilty or not. Blair felt anger rising up in him - at them, at the prison, at life, at Jim for not coming for him and sorting this chaos out. How had he gotten into this mess anyway? It was stupid. He didn't belong here! He wanted his life back! His mind was in turmoil, flitting from one thought to another instantly bombarding his fragile mind from all directions at once. Blair felt the stirrings of a headache. Then the frenzied thoughts coalesced into one another. The grad student's vision started to go hazy and the next thing he knew the floor was coming up to meet him and then there were no more thoughts and a blessed silence.

The two guards watched the unconscious prisoner for a few moments. Then one of them went to report the hanging and collapse of a second prisoner.

Blair awoke slowly. Unsure where he was. His brain was actually hurting that much he knew. He had to stop studying so hard. Maybe he and Jim could get away for a weekend. Go fishing or catch a Jags game. Anything to relax. Then Blair remembered in a rush he wasn't in Cascade anymore.

He was in prison!!

"Good, you're awake," a male voice said in English. "Hello Blair, I'm Doctor Yniguez. I saw you when you first came here."

"I remember," Blair said his blue eyes glancing round the room.

"You're in the prison hospital. You collapsed. Do you remember?"

"Yes...Cesaro...he was...." and Blair swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

"He's dead," the doctor replied but with compassion in his voice.

Doctor Yniguez was a doctor who took the Hippocratic Oath sacredly. Part of the reason he worked at the prison was after his cousin had been sent to one a few years back where he had been treated badly. Doctor Yniguez knew the men inside the prison's walls were paying their dues to society, but they were more than just a name or a number they were still human beings and should be treated as such.

"How long have I been here?"

"A couple of hours. I'm going to keep you overnight. You've had a nasty shock and it can take the body a while to adapt to a change in situation." The kind way to say that his patient had been a free man one day and banged up the next. "You look dehydrated. Are you drinking and eating? The food will be different to what you were used to in America."

"I've not exactly had much appetite," Blair countered thinking back to what had already happened to him at the prison, the almost rape as well as Cesaro's death.

"That's understandable," the doctor replied compassionately.

The grad student felt exhausted, both physically and mentally drained. Being sent to this hellhole had been bad enough but to see a good man like Cesaro dead in front of him, hanging from his neck, was just too much to take. Even now he couldn't believe what his eyes had seen. He couldn't get the image of his friend's body suspended from his neck by the rope. His arms hanging limply at his side, his head tilted to one side at an odd angle. Blair thought that image would fill his mind every time he tried to sleep for the rest of his life.

"You'll feel better tomorrow," the doctor added brightly.

Would he? The anthropologist doubted very much that he would. What was there to feel better about? Blair thought darkly but remained silent, he knew the doctor was only doing his job.

"Drink this," the doctor said and handed Blair a glass of water and two tablets. Blair eyed the tablets suspiciously. "Just paracetamol," he replied with an encouraging smile.

Blair downed the tablets and then lay back. He tuned the doctor out as he thought about how his world had come crashing down and he didn't know how to get it back again. His arrest and imprisonment had taken its toll. The two days and nights he had been at the prison and he had hardly eaten or slept. The prison was hardly ever quiet with all those prisoners and not least sharing a cell with so many other people. He couldn't help but wonder who would try to rape him next. It was hard to sleep whilst keeping one eye open. Sleeping on a hard uncomfortable floor wasn't easy, when he longed to sleep safe and comfortable in his own bed back at the loft.

The loft seemed a million miles away at that moment. It might as well be on the moon he mused darkly.

His eyes closed involuntarily, as the doctor worked round him, and he slept. The quietness of the hospital and the doctor's quiet caring attitude helped make Blair relax and his exhaustion caught up to him.

Later the doctor watched his patient sleep as he made his notes. He had seen a lot of prisoners come and go. He'd worked at the prison for five years. He glanced over at the sleeping American. He had reviewed his file and found it hard to believe he was a 'drug smuggler'. But it wouldn't be the first time he had gotten it wrong and been fooled by a prisoner. He never got involved with the prisoners other than when they came to his area and he looked after their physical welfare and that was it. He tried to treat them with dignity and kindness when they were in his area. But there was something vulnerable about this man: He was personable and likeable. It said on his file that he was a student and maybe he had needed the money. Drugs were certainly an easy way to make money. Don't break your rule and get involved with this one he firmly told himself as he closed the prisoner's file resolutely.

He had another duty to perform as he checked that his patient was still asleep. The doctor went to examine the body of Cesaro Covas. It was obviously suicide but the warden needed confirmation – for the record. There was never any recourse in El Valparaiso. The country was a backwater in that respect. When a prisoner died the doctor at the prison at the time did an examination and made a report. The family were informed, they claimed the body and that was the end of that.

Later the doctor had finished his report for the warden, putting 'suicide' as the cause of death. There were no other marks on the body other than bruising around the neck and the windpipe had been crushed. Cesaro Covas wasn't the first, and probably not the last, to kill themselves in this prison.

It was getting late as the doctor checked on his patient. He was awake but looking no better.

"Are you hungry Blair?"

Blair shook his head and looked away; even talking took more energy than he had. The doctor noticed the seeds of depression taking root.

"You'll feel better tomorrow," the doctor stated.

"You've told me that already," Blair countered. "I didn't believe you before either."

The doctor smiled. "It's okay Blair."

The doctor moved from the room and returned a short while later with a syringe.

"What's that for?" Blair asked defensively.

"Just a sedative to help you sleep."

"I don't need it," Blair countered. "I've just been asleep and I didn't have any trouble getting to sleep."

"I can see the dark circles under your eyes. I can see you've hardly eaten or drunk anything since you've been here, plus you've had a shock today. Tomorrow you will feel much better and a good night's sleep will help you."

Blair found he couldn't care what the doctor did. He didn't object as the doctor stuck the needle in his arm and the contents of the syringe disappeared. It didn't take long and Blair could already feel the effects. A few moments later and his eyes drooped and he fell into a welcome drug induced sleep.

The doctor left Blair in the prison hospital before he went home for the night. His patient was sleeping peacefully. It took some prisoners longer than others to become accustomed to the regime of prison life. As long as he ate and drank the next day he would be fine.

The prison employed a male nurse to watch over any patients who were in the hospital overnight. He could call the doctor if there were any complications with any patients, but that was rare. Though often the doctor stayed overnight himself if he thought it warranted it. If a patient was very sick he would be taken to a normal hospital, under guard of course. The prison hospital was pretty well equipped but not for the most serious of injuries that prisoners could inflict, and often did, on other prisoners. Sadly the doctor realised he had seen it all.

Blair was roughly shaken awake. It was still dark, the room enshrouded in lurid shadows. He wasn't sure where he was and was disorientated from the effects of the sedative still coursing round his bloodstream.

"Despertar (wake up)!!" a male voice demanded and followed up with a not so gentle slap on the face.

"What!" Blair responded confused and only coming half awake.

"Who is your supplier?" the guard Garcia asked.

"What?" was all Blair could manage.

The guards words hadn't sunk in, the doctor's sedative was too strong and the grad student was floating, hardly aware of his surroundings. His eyes closed again but the guard's rough hand was slapping his cheek again.

"Your drugs supplier. Tell me now!!!"

"I," Blair replied, not even sure of the question being asked and his voice was slurred and still drowsy.

The hand was back even stronger and this slap left a red mark on the young man's cheek. It didn't make any difference to Blair, he didn't fight the sedative's effects, and drifted back towards unconsciousness.

"The warden really wants to know who the supplier is," the second guard, Ramirez said to Garcia. "He'll reward us if we can give him the name."

"I know, but he's not being very co-operative is he," Garcia said with disgust.

"The doctor must have given him something."

Garcia turned to the nurse and asked him what the doctor gave the prisoner.

"Just a sedative," the male nurse replied.

"A trip to solitary might loosen his tongue," Ramirez said.

Garcia smiled and nodded his head. They proceeded to remove Blair from the bed.

"You can't take the patient..." the nurse started to protest and took a step forward to stop the two guards.

"He's a prisoner!" Garcia cut him off tersely with an even stronger look and the nurse stopped in his tracks. "This is the warden's business, you'll do well to remember that. The warden needs information from this man and we intend to get it from him. Comprende?"

The nurse nodded and stood back as they dragged the unconscious man out. The doctor wouldn't be very happy in the morning but he could handle the fallout from the doctor. The fallout from the warden he couldn't handle nor from the guards. They could make a person's life very difficult – whether you were a prisoner or not – and the nurse needed this job. He had a family to support.

Blair woke slowly, his thoughts slow and muffled from the sedative that was starting to wear off. He realised, as came to consciousness, that he was cold, his cheek was stinging and he wasn't very comfortable. He sat up slowly and realised he was lying on the floor and it was dark and quiet. He sat up slowly, his mouth was dry but he was still disorientated and still not sure where he was. He felt dirt under his fingers as he leant on them from his sat up position. That was strange. The last thing he remembered he was in the prison hospital.

He blinked his eyes a few times to clear the last remaining traces of the sedative and looked round. He definitely wasn't in the prison's hospital anymore. He was in a small room, only eight foot by eight foot. It was predominantly dark but there was a small amount of light coming in through a small window high up on the twelve foot high outer wall. Blair reasoned it was dawn. There was no other light available.

Blair had the horrible feeling that he was in solitary. Why he didn't know, he hadn't done anything wrong. Blair got up gingerly as his brain fought for equilibrium. He stood up and then he walked round the small cell, touching the rough wall for support. The only entrance and exit was a metal door that was very locked.

Blair took a deep breath as the walls started to close in on him. The whole situation was a nightmare and it was getting worse by the day. His false imprisonment, conditions at the prison and Cesaro's death were hard enough to deal with. Now he was isolated in a damp, cold and dark place. He was never going to get out. No one knew where he was. Blair felt the vestiges of despair winning over his resolve to stay positive and upbeat.

Blair stood, his forehead resting on the cold stone wall, as he tried desperately to hang on to hope and his sanity. He couldn't take any more. He always thought he was a strong person but this; this was beyond what a person should have to cope with. He was a grad student, part time Police observer and training assistant and not Steve McQueen in "The Great Escape".

Blair wanted to scream. But he didn't have the energy. No one would hear him anyway or even care if they did.

Blair wasn't sure how long he was in solitary. He didn't really care but he thought it was three days. The guard didn't speak to him but every now and again a hatch would open in the door and a tray would appear with water and food on (though food was a loose description of the tray's contents). Blair drank the water, he was thirsty more than hungry, though he ate some of the tray's contents. Partly because he knew he had to keep his strength up, even though he was despondent there was still part of his mind that frantically latched on to the lingering hope that Jim would help him; there was also nothing else to do but wait and hope.

The nights were cold and the days warm in the tiny cell. The sunrises and sunsets were amazing. He watched through the tiny window as the tiny bit of sky he could see changed colour. He watched fascinated at the beauty he could see next to the dark ugliness that surrounded him in the tiny cell.

The door opened but Blair didn't notice at first, he was too absorbed in his own mind's thoughts. Thinking about anything, his childhood, people he had met, his free spirited mom, the university, Jim, the Police and his friends there, the people he and Jim had helped, bringing justice to those that didn't have a voice anymore; anything to stop from losing his mind.

"Sandburg," the warden said. Blair turned his face on hearing his name called. "Are you ready to tell me now?"

"Tell you what man?" Blair asked.

"The name of your supplier of course!" the warden snapped impatiently.

Blair closed his eyes and sighed, he had to suppress a giggle, if he laughed it would turn to hysteria. Blair sighed again, the guy was like a dog with a bone.

"No supplier. No drugs. Innocent...."

The warden's face flashed his anger at the prisoner. After Garcia told him the prisoner was in solitary the warden was sure this little enforced stint would loosen his tongue.

It was vital he found out the little bastard's supplier, his very survival depended on it. The kid was still holding out on him: The little bastard. He was either very loyal to his supplier or he was more scared of him than he was of him.

The warden's hands clenched into fists as he tried to contain his fury. Garcia stood at his side ready to do whatever the warden asked of him.

The warden regarded the man sitting on the floor and he wondered what to do with him. Keep him there for a bit longer hoping it finally loosened his tongue or try it from a different tack?

One thing Calvino Arroyo knew was that he had to know the name of that supplier. His very life depended on it. Warden Arroyo had been supplying drugs to the prison for years. All prisons wherever they were had drug problems which was widely known. Arroyo instead of stamping it out, he had encourage it and nurtured it until it had become a profit making sideline for him. How did the state think he could manage on a warden's salary?

Although Arroyo didn't indulge in drugs himself he had an expensive gambling habit and equally expensive mistresses. His last supplier had had the affront to get himself killed by San Merced's local cops, leaving him with no access to the large quantity of drugs he needed to keep the prison populace content. It was a well known fact that prisoners did drugs, they needed it to get through the long days of incarceration and for a large majority of the prisoners their very long sentences.

Maybe Sandburg thought he would get shut out of the deal if he divulged his contact on the outside. Perhaps that would be his next angle, making sure that Sandburg was taken care of as well. Arroyo wasn't a greedy man he just wanted his share.

He glanced down at the prisoner. This wasn't working and the prisoner looked dreadful. He needed to be cleaned up and looked after.

"Garcia take the prisoner make sure he is cleaned up and given some decent food."

"Señor?"

"You heard me. Look after him," the warden's eyes flashed a warning as they bore into his bought and paid for lackey.

"Si, patron," the guard obediently replied.

Garcia walked over to the prisoner and lifted him up by the arms. Blair didn't protest as he was taken out of the tiny cell.

Blair was once again taken to the hospital where Garcia told the doctor that the warden commanded that the prisoner be cared for. The warden hadn't said that Garcia personally had to pander to the prisoner, let someone else do it. The doctor was apologetic and told Blair that he had no control over him being taken from the hospital two days ago. Blair's condition was no worse than it had been, and he had started to get used to the prison food; though Garcia brought some appetising food to the hospital courtesy of the warden's request. Blair's appetite had returned a little after the initial shock of his incarceration had worn off and Cesaro's suicide; he was eating enough to sustain him. Despite his harsh treatment he clung desperately onto the thread, even in his darkest depths of despair, that Jim would help him.

Doctor Yniguez told Blair that the warden was a formidable man, he ruled the prison with an iron fist and not to get on his bad side. But the anthropologist new it was too late for that, the head of the prison wanted information from him that he could never give him. He'd already had a taste of the warden's stubbornness when he didn't give him what he wanted. Blair didn't think he would be serving the twenty years of his sentence; he had the bad feeling that he would be leaving the prison much sooner than that and he wouldn't be alive at that time.

Blair sat on a bench in the main room where the prisoners hung around during the day, his back against the cool wall. He watched the other prisoners and noticed that drugs were being bought and sold to the prisoners from the guards. He knew that being imprisoned for some prisoners was particularly hard to bear and some could only get through the monotony by turning to other means. And that meant doing drugs.

Blair could almost feel tempted to do drugs himself if it helped him to forget even for a little while his surroundings, but he knew he could never or would never do drugs under any circumstances. It was only a temporary release as the real world would soon come crashing round for you to deal with. You could never forget for every minute or every hour of every day. The prisoners were deluding themselves that it was making their lives in prison easier; it was making it harder as they became dependent on the drugs. Making their relatives provide and smuggle greater and greater amounts of money inside for them to actually pay for them. Now Blair new the warden was involved in the drug scene, and some if not all of his guards. But the biggest factor in Blair's decision not to do drugs was Jim. He didn't want his friend to ever be disappointed in him and he would be devastated if he discovered a connection to him and drugs, both on a Police level and on a personal one. Blair never wanted that.

Blair was stopped in his thoughts by Raul who came over to him and sat beside him on the bench a smile on his face.

"I'm glad you're okay Blair."

"Thanks Raul," the grad student replied wearily. Then Raul handed Blair a slip of paper. "What's this?"

"From Cesaro before he died, he asked me to give it to you."

Blair accepted the small piece of paper with a nod. Raul didn't speak but stayed where he was as the anthropologist looked round the room at the other prisoners who were talking amongst themselves. His gazed moved back to the young man beside him. Cesaro had taken the nineteen year old under his wing and he would be taking the old man's death hard.

"You okay Raul?"

The young man nodded but didn't speak and his eyes were shiny with tears. He wouldn't cry, for crying in a place like Calaveras Prison showed weakness and you could never show your vulnerable side in a place like this.

Blair opened the crumpled piece of paper. Paper was obviously in very short supply.

Blair

I'm sorry to abandon you in this place, even though we have not known each other long. I see in you what I was before I came to the prison, vibrant and full of life and energy, before this place sucked the life out of me. I believe I have done my sentence and paid for my crime, now I want to be free. My advice to you Blair is keep fighting, do everything you can to get out before the fire dies in you too and you spend the best part of your life dead inside in this hell. You told me of your friend Jim in America, I know he will help you. Don't lose hope and you will be set free. Look out for Raul, he's a good kid.

Goodbye my young friend.

Ir en el amor de Dios.

Cesaro.

When Blair had finished reading the letter he looked at the last line again and translated it into English - "Go in God's love". There was no love from God in this place, more like the devil's caress in abundance.

"He liked you," Raul said in a quiet voice.

"I liked him too," Blair replied.

Blair had to blink away his own tears at the sadness he felt at the loss of such a gentle soul, who no longer wanted to just exist in the harsh environs of the La cárcel del infinerno.

Blair closed his eyes and tried to focus. He just hoped that he was strong enough to keep fighting.

MAJOR CRIMES, CASCADE, WASHINGTON

Detective James Ellison faced a difficult choice....

Should he have one or two buttermilk doughnuts? It was a well known fact that cops needed their doughnuts to help them think and catch criminals. That was before the detective had come to know a certain anthropologist who leaned towards the healthy spectrum of the food chain.

A devious smile split the detective's face as he thought that his friend was away and he could get away with it. What the grad student didn't know couldn't hurt him. It was decided then, two doughnuts it was.

Jim was wondering if his shadow was having a good time. He was in his element in the field, getting his hands dirty as it were. When he got back he wouldn't stop talking about his field trip for days. The peace and quiet at the loft would be lost but his roommate was the heart and soul of the loft, and the Sentinel knew that he wouldn't mind one bit when his energetic friend returned.

Jim absently wondered what his partner was doing now. He'd been gone a week already and the detective knew that he wouldn't have any contact with him whilst he was gone. The dig was in the middle of nowhere and there was hardly a phone within any sort of walking distance. He also knew that cellphones wouldn't have a signal. The Sentinel had spoken to his friend at the airport when he had landed in El Valparaiso and Blair had sounded excited at being there, and promised to phone him as soon as he could.

Jim stretched his taught back muscles, as he mused that the grad student would be back in a week. Then his silence would be shattered, the loft would be a mess and things would be back to normal.

The corner of Jim's mouth moved up into a mirthless smile as he got back to his paperwork. Another reason to have a literate grad student around, the paperwork was backing up in his absence. Jim got back to his work, wanting to catch up with his cases, so that when his missing shadow did return they could spend time together over a cold beer and catch up.

A few hours later and Jim was just thinking about stopping for lunch when his phone rang.

"Detective Ellison."

"Ah detective, this is Professor Jeremy Smithson of Rainier University."

"Yes Professor how are things going on the dig?" Jim remembered Blair mentioning the name of the expedition's leader.

"Going very well," the professor replied but then his tone became serious. "Detective, I've been trying to contact you for the past week. The satellite phone hasn't been working properly. Blair left me your contact number when he agreed to come on the dig. I was wondering why Blair didn't come as arranged."

"What do you mean, he left a week ago!" alarm bells were immediately going off. "I spoke to him at the airport when he landed at San Merced," Jim didn't like this.

"You mean he arrived here a week ago?"

"Yes, as arranged."

"But he never arrived at the dig site. I thought he'd been unable to get away after all and with communication being so bad, this is the first chance I've had to check up on him. That's not like Blair."

"No it isn't," the detective agreed. "Thank you Professor Smithson for calling me. I'll look into it."

"Can you let me know, if the phone works, that Blair is okay."

"I will sir, thank you."

Jim put the phone down, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Blair was the reliable type, there was no way he would let the professor of the dig group down. Something had happened to him the day he had arrived in El Valparaiso and Jim was going to find out what, even if he had to go down there himself.

The thing worrying the detective the most was that Blair had already been gone a week and anything could have happened to him during those seven days. The detective's mind was conjuring up all sorts of thoughts. Maybe he'd been robbed and was laying in a hospital bed in San Merced unable to get a message out or even worse he could be...stop it! Jim told himself. There's no point wondering what happened he had to find out the facts. Bad news had a way of finding you Jim thought as he decided on his first course of action.

Jim rummaged in his desk for a copy of Blair's plans for his journey to El Valparaiso. Firstly Jim phoned the airport and confirmed that the flight landed as planned. Jim definitely knew that Blair had arrived in the country safely and had definitely phoned him from the airport. He hadn't detected any coercion in his voice, so he deduced that everything was fine as far as then. Something had happened after that.

Jim then phoned the hotel he knew Blair had stayed at for the first night before going to the dig site the following day.

"I'm calling from America," Jim told the receptionist at the hotel. "My friend stayed at your hotel a week ago. His name's Blair Sandburg. I'm trying to trace him."

"Si, I remember Señor Sandburg. I'm sorry to tell you that he was arrested."

"Arrested!! Arrested for what?"

"Drugs sir. The Police found drugs in his room."

Jim was stunned and he couldn't speak. It couldn't be. Blair didn't do drugs, he was always trying to get him to take all that natural stuff. He knew it was a terrible mistake. A mistake he would soon rectify.

"What...what happened to him?" Jim's detective guise was slipping back into place, as he processed the initial news.

"He was sent to prison sir, here in San Merced. It was the talk of the hotel..." the receptionist reported. I bet it was Jim thought angrily. "He was sentenced to twenty years."

God!!! This was turning into a total nightmare. Jim knew he only had once recourse, he had to go down there to sort this mess out.

"What's your name miss?"

"Maria del Fuentes."

"Thank you Miss del Fuentes for your time."

"You're welcome sir. I'm sorry about your friend."

"Thank you," Jim's voice remained calmed but inside he was a roiling cauldron of emotions.

Blair had been gone a week and had more than likely been in a hellhole of an El Vaparaisan prison for the best part of that week.

And Jim hadn't known.

God he hadn't known his friend was suffering down there.

Jim glanced up and saw that Simon was still in his office. Quickly he got up and moved to inform his captain of what he had just found out. The captain had a soft spot for the kid and he knew he would help him. Jim wasn't sure what exactly he was going to do just yet but he would do something to sort this mess out and get Blair out of prison.

Jim had booked the first available flight for him and Simon from Cascade to San Merced in El Vaparaiso, but it hadn't been until the following day. It had felt a long flight as his thoughts were solely on his friend. His companion was also quiet but there was a determined resolve in his eyes, as strong as his own to find the truth and clear Blair. Simon Banks had been immediate in his decision as soon as Jim had told him of Blair's predicament. He wouldn't stay behind in Cascade and wanted to help. Simon was worried for Jim as much as Blair. The detective could be volatile at times and although a good cop, he could be determined especially where the kid was concerned.

SAN MERCED, EL VALPARAISO

Their first reaction when the plane had landed was to go the prison but it was nearly early evening and visiting times would be during the day. So Jim and Simon went to the hotel instead where Blair had stayed to talk to any witnesses they could find who knew about the situation. Though they didn't have jurisdiction the hotel's managers gave them permission to speak to their employees. At first the staff were reluctant to talk to them, even though they told them that they were Police officers and friends of Blair's and wanted to help him. They had a natural distrust of law enforcement, even that from another country. El Valparaiso's laws were very strict where punishment for even minor wrongdoings was severe and harsh.

It was late when Jim and Simon had finished speaking to everyone that was at the hotel at that time, other staff would be on duty the following morning so they called it a night. They went to their respective rooms, after a meal in the dining room that neither felt like eating. Jim had a long hot shower to try to relax and then lay in bed, but sleep was a long time coming. He kept wondering how Blair was. Was he safe? What the prison was like. The underlying thought that kept cropping up in his mind was how this nightmare had happened in the first place. Slowly they had begun to piece together an outline of what happened when Blair had been arrested.

The detective reviewed what he knew so far in his mind. He knew that drugs had been found in Blair's room hidden in a drawer. The detective knew unquestioningly that the drugs weren't Blair's and as they had been found between his clothes, he had deduced with revulsion, that someone had put them there after Blair had checked in. But why? Who had the opportunity and why? Blair was only staying in the hotel one night before going to the dig site the following day. Who knew Blair's itinerary? He did and so did Rainier University? Was it someone on the dig? Blair had been working with him for three years and had helped him take down a number of suspects, a number of which were still lounging in gaol if that was the case and it was someone he had put away. But why would someone go after Blair and not him? And why in a foreign country and not back in Cascade? There were elements of this that didn't make sense. Hell none of it did!

Jim closed his eyes, his mind churning over numerous different explanations but not coming up with anything positive. Eventually he fell into an exhausted sleep.

Next morning Jim was awake early. He didn't feel refreshed from the sleep he'd had. He felt a certain degree of hopefulness in the fact that he would see Sandburg that day and make sure with his own eyes that Blair was okay.

Jim and Simon ate breakfast in a companionable silence as solemness inhabited both their thoughts. Jim wanted to speak to the rest of the hotel's staff, speak to the arresting officers and also see Blair at the prison. A lot for one day but it was necessary to get as much done as quickly as possible, so they could get Blair out of prison that much sooner.

After breakfast Jim and Simon split up to speak to the rest of the hotel staff as quickly as they could. Jim tracked down the maid that had been on duty the day Blair was arrested. He found her in the corridor of rooms she took care of during her duties, one of them being the room Blair had stayed in. Rosita Zapata was a young, small woman with long black hair plaited on top of her head and intelligent dark brown eyes.

"Ms Zapata my name is James Ellison, I'm a detective with the Cascade Police in America. I'd like to ask you a few questions about an American called Blair Sandburg, he stayed in this hotel about a week ago. I believe you were the maid who cleaned his room."

"I don't know anything. I'm sorry about your friend, señor," and she turned to walk away.

Jim knew she was lying her heartbeat had changed dramatically as soon as he had mentioned his friend.

"Ms Zapata, Rosita, my friend is in prison. I know he's innocent and I need to help him. Please," he implored.

Rosita looked up at Jim's earnest face, his honest blue eyes bore into her and she knew she had to tell him. She looked round them, her eyes darting to see if anyone was around and whether they could be overheard.

"Whatever you tell me I will keep in the strictest confidence."

"I could lose my job...." she said fear in her voice. "I need this job, my family depends on me..."

"I understand that but Rosita, Blair is my family I need to help him."

She nodded making a decision. "The day Señor Sandburg was arrested, I had cleaned his room earlier that morning. A woman asked me to let her into his room when he was out."

"Did you?" Jim enquired and Rosita nodded. Jim was hopeful this could be the break he was looking for. "Did you know this woman?"

"No, but she was American. She said she was Señor Sandburg's girlfriend and that she wanted to surprise him. She sounded so nice, I let her into his room. It's against hotel policy. If they find out they will fire me, especially as the Police were involved."

"They won't find out, I promise," Jim replied. "This woman did she give you a name?"

"No."

"Can you describe her?"

"She was tall, about five foot seven or eight, elegant, she had red hair and was wearing sunglasses. She was very sincere, smiling and talked about surprising her boyfriend in his room and I didn't think it would do any harm. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Thank you for telling me this."

Rosita nodded, feeling better that she had finally told someone what had happened. She had been carrying it around with her since that day and she couldn't go to the Police as the hotel might find out. It was eating at her and she was glad she was finally able to release it.

"I hope it helps," she added genuinely.

"It will," Jim replied.

An American woman was alone in Blair's room. She must have planted the drugs. Jim felt he had taken a step closer to figuring out this mystery. She must have followed Blair from Cascade and set him up to take the fall for drugs possession. Maybe she had been on Blair's flight. It was worth checking out if any American women had been on that flight.

The burning question was why?

Jim informed his captain what he had found out from the maid. Then they went to the local Police station to speak to the arresting officers. They were helpful and gave Jim and Simon what information they needed. They told them that they had received an anonymous tip from a woman implicating that an American drug smuggler at the hotel had drugs in his room. They followed up on the tip and that was exactly what they found. Jim asked if the informant was American. They checked the file but there was no mention of that. Though Jim knew she could have disguised her voice with a local accent. They also got them a list of all passengers on Blair's flight.

Then Jim and Simon went to the prison. As they drove up in their rental car they were both made completely speechless by the austere look of the staccato building. The walls were high surrounding the main prison building and barbed wire protruded from the ten feet high white staccato covered wall that encompassed the site. Blair was in there somewhere. The detective and captain didn't say anything as they drove up and parked in the visitors' car park. They got out and walked to a locked gate in a huge entryway. They were stopped by a guard with a holstered side arm at the entryway. They asked to see Blair but were asked for their visitation passes. They told the guard they had only gotten into town the day before and didn't know they needed one. Simon showed the guard his captain's badge but that held little sway. After much discourse back and forward in the guard's halting English, they were taken to the warden's office.

Warden Arroyo was not pleased to see the two American's but his facade was calm as they were showed into his office.

"I'm Captain Simon Banks of the Cascade Police Department in Washington and this is my colleague Detective James Ellison."

The two Police officers shook hands with the warden and took seats opposite his desk.

"I'm Warden Calvino Arroyo. My guard said you were asking about a prisoner here."

"Yes, Blair Sandburg, he was recently brought to this prison convicted of drugs possession."

"Oh yes, the Americano," the warden oozed.

"He's one of my men," Simon stated.

"He's a policeman too, I thought he was a scientist or something," the warden replied, a little perturbed that he had been a little rough with the prisoner who could be a cop, in his desire to get the information he needed from him. He needed to handle the situation more carefully.

"He's an anthropologist but he's also a consultant to the department," Jim replied "And he's my partner."

"I see," Arroyo added thoughtfully.

"We were hoping to visit Blair to see that he's okay," Simon said calmly. "We didn't realise we would need visitors' passes. We only arrived in your country yesterday and we were eager to see our friend, plus we don't speak Spanish." Jim added.

"Blair's no criminal and a place like this in a foreign country would be hard for any foreign national to cope with. We're concerned about him."

The warden smiled edgily. "Of course I understand, but I can't let you see him now."

"Why not?" Jim asked his tone a little defensive.

"We've come a long way to see our friend," Simon added, trying to keep the warden on side.

"There are procedures to be followed. I can't make an exception to you when there are other visitors who want access to the prisoners. You must make an official request in writing for visitation rights."

"But warden..." Simon began.

But Arroyo held up a hand to forestall the captain.

"No exceptions I'm sorry. I have some forms here in my desk, fill them out and I will personally see what I can do to expedite the procedure."

"Thank you we appreciate that," Simon said quickly before Jim could say anything. He could see his detective's jaw was set stubbornly and he knew he was starting to get agitated and angry.

"No trouble at all," Arroyo replied a little too unctuously for Jim to stomach.

The warden fished in his draw and found the appropriate forms.

"It's written in English as well as Spanish," he added giving the forms to the captain.

"Most helpful," Simon replied, the hint of a bemused smile on his lips.

Simon and Jim filled in the form. Jim knew the warden was lying, there was something going on but he didn't know what. Jim wondered what the warden was up to and if it had any connection to his friend.

Finally the paperwork was done.

"I'll see this gets fast tracked," the warden said as he saw the two men to the door. He beckoned to a guard to see them to the gates.

The warden took the sheet of paper and gave it to the prison's administration clerk.

"Block any future visitor applications for Mr Sandburg, he'll be in solitary until further notice."

"Yes, s-sir," the female clerk stammered clearly afraid of the imposing warden.

Jim and Simon left the prison and sat in their rental car for a few minutes not speaking, just staring at the austere building.

"You okay Jim?" Simon finally asked.

"Not really Simon," Jim replied and turned to look at his boss. "The warden was lying, something is going on. I think Sandburg's in real trouble."

"Well there's not much we can do until we speak to Blair."

"I know," the Sentinel replied despondently.

"There's one thing we can do," Simon stated emphatically. "Is keep digging into this and clear Blair and get him out that damned place."

"I'm down with that," Jim said and Simon smiled despite the gravity of the situation, as Jim had said something Sandburg would say.

"Hold on kid," Jim whispered as he started the rental car and pulled away.

Blair didn't see the guards coming. He was sat on the grass with Raul in the prison yard as other prisoners played impromptu football nearby, kicking the ball between them. He had been teaching Raul how to read. Blair had been shocked at how many of the prison populace could neither read nor write. One minute he was immersed in his teaching of Raul and the next thing two burly guards hauled him away.

"What have I done?" Blair asked as the rest of the prisoners watched in mute silence. They had learnt not to take on the guards, they had batons which they weren't shy to use.

But the guards just continued to drag him away.

"Blair!!" Raul called standing up.

"It's okay Raul," the grad student called over his shoulder. "It'll be alright," he said for the teenager's benefit.

Raul watched helplessly as the guards took Blair into the prison building without a word.

Blair looked at the surly prison guards, as they pulled him along effortlessly, his feet barely touching the floor. After a few minutes Blair realised where they were going.

"No, hey man chill. I haven't done anything wrong," and he tried to pull himself out of their grip and repeated the sentence in Spanish.

But the guards just held onto him even harder, their hands bruising his arms with their vice-like grips. They continued to remain silent as they did their warden's bidding. Finally they stopped at a metal door; one of them unlocked it and pushed the prisoner unceremoniously inside. Blair stumbled to his knees and looked round from his position, as the door clanged shut and the key turned in the lock.

Blair looked around the solitary confinement cell. Looks like he was destined to be the 'Cooler King' after all he thought ironically.

"Welcome back!" he said morosely as he glanced round the austere room, wondering what the hell he had done to warrant being taken to solitary 'again'.

Blair walked over to the wall opposite the high window. He saw a patch of azure blue sky, the only colour he could see in the dark and dismal cell. He leant back against the wall and then sank down to the floor and drew his knees up to his chest.

Prison was royally sucking and was definitely living up to previous expectations. Despair clawed desperately at his resolve.

"I don't think I can hang on much longer Jim," he uttered desperately. "It's too hard. This place is too hard..." and Blair couldn't speak anymore as despair crept over his mind.

He rocked slowly back and forth as he gave in to the hopelessness and anguish that he had tried to keep locked away from the positive thoughts of Jim coming to save him had so far managed to instil in his resolve. Now he felt them crumbling around him as he sat in the cold and dark cell, no sound permeating the brick walls. He felt totally lost and he didn't think he had the strength to rise above it anymore.

The silence was deafening as he closed his eyes and let the tears fall unbidden and unchecked.

The warden appeared outside solitary and looked at his two guards Garcia and Ramirez with his face a mask of control.

"Sandburg is in solitary as you requested patron," Garcia said.

The warden pursed his lips slightly in thought. A guard opened the door and the warden stepped inside. Blair looked up when he heard the door unlock.

"Señor Sandburg, it is good to see you."

"Why am I here? I haven't done anything wrong."

"Señor Sandburg I have a proposition for you. I'm not a greedy man. If you tell me the name of your supplier, I will cut you in on the deal. You could leave this prison, when you have completed your sentence of course, a very wealthy man."

"Mr Arroyo, warden, sir for the last time I do not nor have I ever had a drugs supplier. I have never done drugs or smuggled drugs or have any idea even how to go about supplying drugs. I'm innocent and will prove my innocence."

"Good luck with that," the guard Garcia uttered facetiously.

The warden's face became a mask of loathing and rage.

"Show Señor Sandburg what happens when a lowly prisoner defies his warden."

Next to the warden Garcia smiled evilly and took a step forward. Blair looked at the guard and licked his dry lips. He couldn't hide the terror he felt as he saw the guard advancing menacingly towards him. The warden stepped through the door into the corridor outside the cell but didn't walk away. He stayed to watch and listen to his idea of discipline being metered out.

The warden listened intently as the first sound of a fist hitting flesh assaulted his ears and the prisoner's gasp of pain. He smiled slightly and listened more intently as he got off on witnessing another's pain. He moved the door open a bit more, so he could see more clearly and watched intently as his two lackeys worked the American over.

The warden was so beyond just wanting the information he craved from the prisoner. He was bubbling with rage that the insignificant American would defy him. Didn't he know he was the ruler here? He was the law and the authority at the prison. When he said jump you jumped. Now he would meter out his brand of justice. The justice system handed over the dregs of humanity to him, the majority of them illiterate and unintelligent. When they had completed their sentences and they were released he had made men out of them by then. Seldom did many return to these hallowed walls, they were too scared to reoffend and be returned to the prison from hell. He knew what the inmates called his prison and he was proud of the name.

Now that he had finished with the niceties of asking the prisoner the name of his drug supplier and the fact that his Americano friends were closing in, he didn't have time to be patient. Not that he was scared of them. They had no jurisdiction in his country nor in his gaol, in his fiefdom, here he was ruler. And he decreed that if Blair Sandburg would not tell him what he needed to know – he would never tell anyone else either.

Blair watched with fear as first Garcia and then the other guard Ramirez advanced on him. He knew what they intended as he could see the bloodlust in their eyes. There was an intense look on their faces and he knew they had to sate it. He scrambled to his right to the farthest corner, but the staccato behind him soon stopped him going any further.

Why did they hate him so much? He thought as the first blow impacted with his face, the back of his head impacting with the wall. That was enough to cause him to see stars as a second blow forced his head back the other way. Blair tried to make himself as small as possible but their feet started raining blows on him. He lost count of the number of them. He was just aware of a constant wave of agony that was now assaulting his entire body.

"Enough!" he vaguely heard a shout behind them by the door. Through swollen eyes Blair saw the warden standing there passively, only stopping them when he thought they were going too far.

"I still...don't....know," Blair said, his voice barely audible.

Blair waited for the blackness that was waiting at the periphery of his vision to claim him. He welcomed unconsciousness, because he wouldn't know where he was and there would be the absence of pain, not just the physical pain of the beating he had just received; but the defeat of the spirit he knew he was experiencing and didn't care to stop.

This won't do the warden thought as he scowled down at the prisoner as he slumped forward unconscious. He still defies me even now.

"This won't do at all'" he whispered aloud as he turned and left the guards stood above the supine broken figure.

The warden turned abruptly and walked away.

CASA CHULA HOTEL, SAN MERCED

Jim checked his watch again, he and Simon were sat in one of the hotel's lounges going over what they knew so far. It was getting late and he hadn't heard anything from the prison. The warden had said he would fast track their visitation request. He checked his cellphone but he hadn't missed a call as he knew he hadn't. Jim dialled the prison.

After speaking to a number of people in his halting Spanish, he eventually spoke to a woman who he could converse with in English.

"Your request for visitation has been denied," she told him in a uncaring, monotone voice.

"What!" Jim explained. "That's impossible. I spoke to the warden earlier and he said he would put through our requests personally."

"It says on the file that all visitation to Señor Sandburg has been suspended until further notice."

"Why?"

"The prisoner is in solitary."

Jim was speechless. Just what was going on at that prison? He looked over at Simon whose forehead was creased as he heard his detective's side of the conversation.

"When did this happen?"

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that information."

Jim had a gnawing feeling in his gut, this was getting worse by the hour. Had Blair been in solitary all along and the warden was stringing them along.

"Thank you," Jim managed to utter and disconnected the call.

"What's going on Jim?" Simon asked immediately.

"Someone at the prison said that Blair's in solitary and we can't visit him."

"This doesn't make sense," the captain replied.

"I don't like this Simon."

"Me neither," the captain replied, also very afraid for the Police observer in that terrible place. The two men's eyes locked for a few seconds, the silent looks infusing without words what the other was thinking. "We need to get someone on side who's above the warden."

"The American Consulate." Jim stated and Simon nodded.

"Let's go."

The two men quickly left the hotel and made their way to the American Consulate: They knew they could get help there, as they would know the ins and outs of the city better than they did. Time was of the essence as both men knew they had to get Blair out of that prison as quickly as they could.

At the consulate Simon and Jim spoke to a middle-aged Texan called Roger Myatt. They found him sympathetic and accommodating. He listened to their story without forming a judgement and then made a series of calls.

Within the hour a document arrived at the consulate from the city's governor giving the two American policemen access to the prison and the governor's permission to visit their friend the following day.

Jim held the piece of paper reverently. With this there was no way they could be denied access to Blair whether he was in solitary or not.

It was now late afternoon and Jim wanted to go straight to the prison but they knew the permission had been given as a favour to Roger Myatt. Reluctantly the two men went back to the hotel to wait until the following morning when they could finally get in to see their friend.

CALAVERAS PRISON

Jim and Simon were at the prison bright and early. They were automatically refused permission until Jim showed them the piece of paper. The guard on the gate wasn't very happy but he showed them inside to a room that was used for visitors, then he went to get their friend they hoped. Instead the guard went straight to the warden. The warden took one look at the words on the paper and swore profusely. The Americans were smart and dogged he had to concede. He dismissed the guard and told them he would take care of the matter personally.

Warden Arroyo went straight to his two bought and paid for guards and told them to get the prisoner from solitary and take him to the prison hospital. The warden was already there when Blair was brought in. He was half walking, half dragged by the two guards flanking him either side. They pushed him onto a bed and Doctor Yniguez was beside his patient in seconds.

"What happened to him?" he was angry. He could see the bruises and cuts on the American's face were hours old.

"He was beaten up by a prisoner," the warden replied.

The doctor looked round and saw the smug faces of the two guards and he knew his patient had been beaten up but it wasn't by any prisoners. He hated this prison. He hated that the guards were often more violent and vicious than the prisoners were. Sometimes he thought the wrong people were paying for their crimes.

Blair moaned as the doctor removed his shirt. The doctor grimaced at the bruised skin he saw on his body.

The warden caught the doctor's arm in a vice-like grip. "He was beaten up by a prisoner!!" the warden repeated. "Give him a sedative make sure he doesn't talk to his friends."

The doctor's dark brown eyes locked with the warden's for a moment. He couldn't help but fear the man, there was something cold and calculating about those eyes. The man ruled the prison with an iron hand and he knew that if he went against him he would be the one lying there having been beaten up. No one could take on the warden and hope to come out the other side unscathed.

The American's friends were here and the doctor nodded silently and proceeded to prepare an injection. Only when Blair was sedated was the warden satisfied and told Garcia to get the two Americans.

Doctor Yniguez was still cleaning up Blair's numerous cuts and bruises when Jim and Simon were brought in. He'd given Blair a thorough examination and could find no broken bones. He just hoped there were no internal injuries, there was no way the warden would allow any outside examination of the prisoner.

Jim gasped when he saw Blair's face.

"How the hell did this happen?!" Jim said angrily as he moved to Blair's bedside and looked down at his friend's battered and bruised face. "I thought Blair was in solitary."

"Oh no, Señor Ellison. That was an administrative error on the part of our clerk. I'm sorry about that," the warden replied in an unctuous manner. Jim didn't have to use his Sentinel abilities to know the man was lying. "He was unfortunately attacked by another prisoner. The doctor says your friend will make a full recovery."

Jim glanced over at the doctor who was busy with his medical supplies but he could tell the doctor was feeling uncomfortable. Instinctively Jim knew the doctor knew more than he was letting on. He filed that away for possible use later.

"Hey Chief, can you hear me?" Jim asked as he tenderly put his palm on Blair's battered cheek. The Sentinel took stock of the condition of his friend's face. Both his eyes were a dark shade of purple and swollen, his bottom lip was cut and both his cheeks were purple and bruised. He looked like he had gone five rounds with his late boxer friend Sweet Roy Williams.

There was no response.

"I'm Doctor Yniquez, I had to sedate him," the doctor explained but stopped when he caught the warden looking at him. Jim couldn't help but catch the look that passed between the two men. "He'll sleep now."

Blair moaned then and moved his head a fraction. The warden looked at the prisoner with hooded eyes.

"Hey there buddy, can you hear me?" Jim asked, hoping that Blair would open his eyes and he would be able to gaze into those smoky-blue irises.

But Blair didn't respond though his eyes moved slightly under his closed lids. Somewhere in that sedated condition the anthropologist acknowledged the sound of a friendly voice and he tried to latch on to it, but the power of the soporific was too strong and he couldn't fight it. There was pain too and he couldn't stand the pain anymore. Blair gave in and let the sedative sweep him away.

Jim glanced lovingly down at his friend, the anger and rage he felt at finding him in this condition simmering inside of him. He had to stay calm, keep the anger inside, but intending whole heartedly to use it in his aim to see his friend freed.

They stayed with Blair for a little while longer but there was no response. Shortly after his captain put a gentle hand on his detective's shoulder. Jim knew Simon wanted to leave. Part of Jim wanted to stay and guard his friend but the other half knew he had to leave so he could find the evidence to clear him. Then they could all go home.

Jim nodded and put his hand on his friend's head feeling the soft curly hair under his Sentinel sensitive fingers. The Sentinel didn't speak he just looked at the doctor and nodded his head a fraction and then walked from the room. He didn't speak or even look over in the direction of the warden. If he saw a smug look on that man's face, he knew he would be liable to lose the modicum of control he was trying to exercise.

Simon and Jim didn't speak until they had left the prison and were sat in the hire car. The detective let out a breath he had been holding.

"Simon..."

"I know Jim," the black captain was trying to come to terms with the brutality he had witnessed on the gentle anthropologist. "I know."

They sat there for a few minutes gathering themselves. Then the Sentinel cast out his hearing focusing on the one part of the prison, now they had seen Blair, he knew where he was. He was rewarded when he heard the warden's voice. He was back in the hospital with the doctor.

"You did well doctor."

"Warden Arroyo...."

"Yes doctor!!!" Arroyo's voice was loud and hard.

Blair started to moan from his supine position. He was fighting the sedation. His mind had registered that he had heard Jim's voice and was trying to latch onto it.

"He's fighting the sedation," the doctor explained.

"Good. I need to know the name of his supplier. Perhaps in this condition he'll finally be able to tell me."

"You've hurt him enough."

"Silence doctor," and Jim could hear plainly as the warden slapped the doctor hard over the face.

Jim was wondering about the warden's words. He wanted the name of Blair's supplier and his friend had been convicted of drugs possession. The warden obviously, but wrongly, connected Blair with drugs.

"Sandburg!! Sandburg listen to me," and Jim could hear as Blair moaned. The warden must have grabbed him and the movement was causing him pain. The detective gripped the steering wheel tightly, feeling impotent as he couldn't help him. Simon watched but without saying anything as he knew his detective was using his Sentinel abilities. "I need to know who your supplier is."

"No, don't hurt him," the doctor pleaded.

"The bastard!" Jim swore as he realised that Arroyo was going to hit Blair to get the information out of him.

"Jim?" Simon asked concerned at Jim's anger.

"Okay doctor you get me the information if you're so worried about his health. Find out what I need to know and I'll leave him alone. But be warned I'm running out of patience. Either he tells me what I want to know or else!"

Jim heard a door slamming and then there was silence in the hospital room.

The detective turned to his captain and relayed to him what he had overheard.

"So that's his angle. He wanted information that Blair can't possible give him," Simon stated deep in thought. "We know it's all connected to that American woman who set Blair up."

Jim nodded "I'm thinking that the doctor is sympathetic to Blair's condition. We've got to talk to him."

"I don't know if he'll be any help Jim. He looked pretty scared," the head of Major Crimes replied.

"I know Simon but we've got to do something fast. If we don't get him out of that place soon that prison will kill him before we can."

Simon didn't have a reply to that but instead glanced sadly at the prison as his friend started the rental car and they drove silently away from the prison for the second time.

Jim dropped Simon off at the American Consulate to get a copy of the names of all the American women that had visited the country in the last month. Whilst Simon was doing that Jim went back to the prison to wait for the doctor. He couldn't speak to him at the prison as he was sure the doctor wouldn't be forthcoming, but away from there he might open up and the detective might finally find out what was going on behind those imposing walls to his friend.

Jim waited and watched the prison from a vantage point nearby. He could see the prison's gate with his Sentinel vision without being spotted himself. As he waited Simon phoned and told him he had a list of nearly five thousand American women who had visited and departed El Vaparaiso in the past two month. Seemingly the country was on the tourist map after all, but there were less than fifty who listed San Merced as one of their destinations. Of course plans could change and the woman they were looking for would not announce her intentions to anyone who might check. None of the American women listed their home in Cascade or even Washington state itself. She had covered her tracks but the common denominator was there somewhere they just had to find it. Simon planned to e-mail the extensive list to Rafe and Henri Brown back in Cascade to see if they could dig anything up their end. They had more resources to hand than the captain and detective did in the South American country.

Jim was disappointed by the large list, he was hoping fewer American women wanted to visit such a backwater as this country. It must have something to offer but he wasn't sure what.

Simon decided to go back to the hotel to rest as Jim kept his vigil at the prison.

Finally just after 6pm the prison's gate opened and the doctor emerged. He walked to a dark coloured saloon car, got in and drove away from the prison. Jim followed at a discreet distance in his hire car. There wasn't much traffic on the road but with the Sentinel's vision honed in on the car, he could follow it a long ways back without the doctor detecting he was being followed. The detective followed him until he stopped in a residential part of San Merced and went over to a small house. Jim followed and caught up with the doctor at his front door.

"Doctor Yniguez," Jim said behind the man who turned and was immediately on edge on hearing the American accent. "I'm Detective James Ellison; I was at the prison earlier visiting Blair Sandburg."

"Detective Ellison, of course," the doctor replied his heartbeat going down noticeably. He didn't fear the detective and Jim knew the man was good, if not frightened by the warden. "Did you follow me from the prison?"

"Yes, I need to talk to you about my friend."

The doctor glanced behind Jim up and down the street, the edge of fear evident in the medic again.

"Don't worry I was careful, no one saw me follow you. If you're scared imagine how Blair's feeling."

The doctor's dark eyes moved back to stare into Jim's light blue orbs and he made his decision.

"Come in," he said knowing he was going to regret this decision but knowing he had no other recourse. He had done nothing at that damned place for too long, and now it was time to start making amends for the silence he had maintained.

For the next hour the detective and doctor discussed Blair, the warden, the prison and what went on there.

"Will you help us?" Jim asked the medic.

Doctor Yniguez looked at the detective and then round his home. He had lived alone since his wife had left him for a younger man. But he was risking more than his home, he was risking his life.

"The warden rules that place like a fiefdom. He's a dictator and a ruthless man."

"I understand that but all I'm asking you to do is keep an eye on Sandburg, make sure he's okay."

"I know it won't be easy but I need to know he's safe whilst my colleague and I find the evidence to prove his innocence."

"I'll do my best," the doctor replied. "I like the young man."

"He has a way with people," the Sentinel replied.

"So I noticed," the doctor replied and Jim couldn't help but smile.

"I'll give you my cellphone number; call me if you have any news on Blair."

The doctor told the detective that he would.

Jim went back to the hotel then as he was totally exhausted and he could do no more. He and Simon had dinner at the hotel and then retired to the hotel's lounge. Jim reviewed the list of women's names that the captain had procured, who had acquired visas to visit the country. None of the names stood out, whoever Sandburg's adversary was she wasn't making it easy.

Next morning Jim and Simon went to San Merced's Police Headquarters and spoke to a detective about the case. They hoped a local police officer's resources could help them locate the American woman. The detective listened to their evidence concerning the American woman at the hotel, but he took one look at the lengthy list of names on the Visa list. He made no attempt to even start investigation. He did procure a list of passengers from Blair's flight for the Cascade policemen. His desk was piled high with files and it was obvious he already had a large case load. The Cascade detectives knew it was too much trouble for such a small Police force to bother with, especially when it concerned a foreigner already tried and convicted of a crime. It seemed that once you were convicted in El Valparaiso a conviction being overturned was very rare, probably as rare as a sighting of a Sasquatch or yeti. It didn't take long for both men to realise they would not get any local help. They were on their own.

Jim was getting increasingly frustrated. Sandburg had been in prison for twelve days and the only time he'd managed to see him in all that time and Blair was drugged and unconscious. The Sentinel couldn't get the thought of Blair's battered face out of his mind. Jim was trying to remain objective, leaving his emotions at the door as he had told Blair constantly to do when shadowing him on his police work; but it was getting increasingly harder to do when they were assaulted by unsurmountable, solid brick walls at every turn.

CALAVERAS PRISON

From the hospital Blair was released back into the prison populace and not solitary as he half expected. He had woken up in the prison hospital that morning aware of the doctor beside his bed taking his pulse. The anthropologist was still a little groggy at first as the soporific effect of the sedative was still in his system. He felt sore as he tried to move in the bed and winced as he remembered the beating the guards had given him. The guards were more barbaric than the prisoners he thought sadly.

Then he remembered something from the previous night. He was sure he had heard Jim's voice. He had tried to reach him but he couldn't, as something had barred his way. He thought he had been dreaming and pushed the thought of Jim aside. It hurt too much to think of Jim or Simon, or his life back home.

This was his life now. For however long he managed to survive, not he realised with sadness from the other prisoners, but from the men who were supposed to look after and guard the prisoners as they served their sentences.

Raul was glad to see Blair, but horrified at the state of his face. Some of the other men Blair knew as well and before long he had a class of eager students who he continued to tutor in reading and writing. Such a basic skill he took for granted. He thought of Cesaro who had tried to teach a past generation of prisoners. Blair wondered what caused the apathy in the late teacher. The prison had thrown its worst at Blair and though he felt he would not get out of the prison alive, that the warden would most likely kill him before too long. He realised that he hadn't lost any of his enthusiasm or exuberance for teaching, though his body was weary and hurting, his mind was still alive and bustling. Cesaro had been institutionalised for forty years, the thought of twenty years was abhorrent to the anthropologist. Blair absently wondered if he would be so enthusiastic as he was now in as little as a year's time.

The teacher smiled at his impromptu students who were all eagerly watching him and Blair began to teach them.

OUTSIDE CALAVERAS PRISON

Simon and Jim sat outside the prison in their rental car. All avenues of investigation in the country were dead ends. They could do nothing now and that was what was weighing them down. Their only hope was to go back home and pick up the investigation from there. Neither could voice the realisation that they would have to leave Blair alone in a foreign prison to accomplish that.

Jim was deep in thought as Simon sadly glanced at the foreboding prison's walls.

"We have to speak about what we're both thinking," Simon finally voice.

Jim was silent, his face a stony mask.

"Jim."

"I can't leave him Simon."

"I know," the captain replied his voice surprisingly tender for such a big man. "I can't either. But we're not helping him sat here with no clue as to what he's doing in there. We've got to find the evidence to clear him and we can't do that sat on our butts in the middle of nowhere!" his voice was raised now as he vented his own frustrations.

Jim had removed his detective's badge from his pocket and was fingering the embossed indentations of his gold shield. He thought about what the badge had meant to him when he had first received it. What being a member of the Cascade Police Department meant to him; but none of that meant anything when his innocent friend, his partner, his guide, was languishing in a hellhole of a prison.

Jim looked at the prison, then at his captain and finally back to the badge in his hand.

Suddenly everything became crystal clear and he knew exactly what he had to do.

"I'm going to break him out, sir."

"What!!!" Simon exploded beside him. "Are you crazy Jim?! You can't do that, you're a cop. You're supposed to uphold the law not break it."

"Blair is dying in that place, we can't wait for the evidence to be revealed. You saw him in the prison hospital, the injuries that place has already inflicted on him."

"I know Jim, it hurt me to see the kid like that too. But I can't believe you'd even consider it. Jim, you're putting me in a precarious position here by even mentioning what you're planning to me."

"I know sir, I understand you have to do what your conscience dictates; and I don't expect you to help me. I know you're my superior officer but you're also my friend and you're Blair's friend. I've thought of everything else I can possibly think of. There's no extradition between Valparaiso and the US. If I can get him out of the country he'll be free. I can then prove his innocence when he's safe. I've made my mind up Simon, I'm not leaving Valparaiso without Sandburg."

"I understand why you want to get Sandburg out but if you're caught Jim you'll end up in prison right alongside Sandburg. Your Police career will be over," the captain pointed out.

"At least I could protect him then," looking at his friend with mock humour, though his expression remained grim.

"Jim you're his friend not his keeper," but the captain knew how much the young grad student meant to his detective.

"Simon, the kid's too naïve to be in a place like that. He thinks he knows people, he's probably using his anthropologist training in there, watching the prisoners and thinking he can handle himself. He's been to the four corners of the world and experienced a lot of different cultures and people, but he's only really seen the good side of people. Hell even shadowing me he's only been exposed to a fraction of what people are capable of. You know that prison's different, inmates are different, but a South American prison. God, Simon I'm so scared as to what they'll do to him in there."

"I know Jim," Simon conceded, he too felt scared for the young exuberant man, who was always so full of life and enthusiasm. He'd looked so young and vulnerable sedated in the hospital bed.

"Simon we've tried every legitimate avenue. A place like this has its own rules; officials bought and paid for. We'll never get Blair out if we go through channels. I know now I have to resort to other means and the only other means I can think of is a prison break. I know it's insane and drastic but I have the terrible feeling that Sandburg's running out of time."

"Is Sandburg worth your career and possibly your freedom?" Simon asked and continued before Jim could answer. "You could lose everything."

Jim nodded solemnly. "I've thought about this sir and you know he's worth risking anything for. He's taken more crap from me than most people could ever stand and instead of walking away he's stood his ground. I don't deserve a friend like him Simon. I can't always be easy to live with or be around sometimes, especially when my Sentinel senses are acting up. But Blair just takes it all in his stride and comes back for more. I owe him more than I can ever repay. You remember with the Switchman case I was really losing my mind and he...." Jim thought he was going to lose control of his emotions then as he remembered what he had been thinking and feeling when his Sentinel abilities had come back on line with a vengeance. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Blair saved my sanity. I don't think I would have been able to function much longer if he hadn't come on the scene. What's a bit of risk when his freedom, no when his very life is involved."

Simon thought about Jim's words for a few minutes and there was a palpable silence in the car. Finally the captain pulled out his own gold shield. He'd been so proud not only when he'd received his gold shield but also when he had been made captain. The captain warred with the very notion that Jim was proposing. It went against everything he believed in. If he helped his friend he could be jeopardising everything he had spent years working for. But the kid was special, when he wasn't being annoying that is. If something happened to him and he did nothing to prevent it.....

"Okay Jim," he said as his long fingers grasped the badge tightly in his hand. "Say we do this, how are we going to pull it off? There are armed guards at the prison and there's just the two of us. And if we do, by some small miracle pull it off, how the hell are we going to get out of the country? We can hardly board a commercial airliner and the last time I looked we don't have wings!"

"One problem at a time sir," Jim replied with a touch of sarcasm. "I've been thinking about that. Someone I know when I was a Ranger, we crossed paths several times before and after the service. He'll help us."

"Are you sure? What we're proposing to do is not exactly legal. That's a lot to ask of anyone. Plus Jim one extra man isn't going to make a difference."

"This man will. He's a pilot. I need to make a phone call," Jim added with a smile as he started the car.

A weight had suddenly left Jim's shoulders and he knew he was making the right decision, whatever the outcome. He wasn't so sure about involving Simon but it would be easier with the two of them. He also knew he would feel guilty if they got caught; but Simon was dependable and he needed help if the plan had any hope of succeeding.

Now all they had to do was plan the perfect prison break.

SAN MERCED

Jim made his phone call.

"I'd like to speak to Matthew Mackay please."

"I'll get him for you," the female English accented voice said and Jim plainly heard Matt's name being called in the back ground and then a distinctly male English voice answered.

"Matt Mackay."

"Hi, Matt it's Jim Ellison."

"James! How wonderful to hear from you. It's been too long my friend."

"I know Matt. How are you and the wife and kids?"

"All doing well, thriving in the Florida sunshine. You sound distant James. Are you okay?"

"I am but a very good friend of mine isn't."

"Is that why you're phoning? Can I help?"

"I really could do with your help Matt," but then the Sentinel paused for a moment. "I know you're a family man now."

"Is it dangerous?"

"No, I don't think so, but it could be. I need help to get my friend out of prison."

"Oh!" came the astonished reply. That was one thing he never thought Jim Ellison would ever be asking of him.

And then Jim outlined the reasons behind the plan.

Matt listened intently to Jim's words, not passing any judgement, but weighing up the connotations. He had a wife now and three daughters. He was a different man to the one that had known the military man that James Ellison had been over 10 years previously. The memories flooded the British man's mind. Memories never forgotten but pushed back from everyday life until they came back unbidden by a memory, a sight or a smell.

Matt had been an RAF Sea Harrier pilot who had been shot down during a mission. Matt knew a US coverts ops unit were in the area and the British being allies of the American had been drafted in to help. The mission had been compromised and they were instead running from an evil warlord's militia. A warlord who ruled his African country with unyielding pain and suffering to his people. He had been ordered along with a second Sea Harrier pilot to lay down cover fire as the US troops escaped. During the engagement the starboard wing of Matt's plane had taken a hit. Matt ejected just as the plane exploded round him. A piece of shrapnel had torn through his left leg nearly severing it. Matt barely remembered landing, only aware of a gentle American accent telling him he would be okay. That American stayed with him as they were left trying to outrun the warlord's militia before they could be airlifted to safety. The American's medical training had saved his life but not his leg that had been unsaveable. But the American's medical care had allowed him to live and return to England to his wife Francine. When he had healed he had learned to walk again with an artificial leg. During his convalescent he had learned the name of the American who had saved his life. He had not forgotten Jim Ellison's care and dogged determination to see that he lived.

Later Matt had emigrated to American with Francine and had opened a successful air business in Florida. Also during his convalescence he had contacted Jim to offer his humble thank you, not that Jim had accepted it more than he had simply been doing his job. But since that fateful mission Jim and Matt had stayed in touch and now the former RAF pilot vowed he would repay the American back one day.

Now as Matthew Mackay listened to what his friend told him of his friend, he knew there was only one answer he could give.

"I can be there in two days," he replied without hesitation.

"Are you sure Matt? There's no pressure." Jim wanted to make sure his friend had every opportunity to say no.

"Your friend is important to you. You gave me back my life James, my three daughters would not be here if not for you. I'm doing this not just out of obligation but also because I know you, you would not go to these lengths if you did not believe it the only way."

"Thanks Matt. Whatever the cost just let me know. I'll phone you later with more details."

"Don't worry about the cost. I'll prepare things my end. Don't worry James we'll get your friend out."

"This will make us more than even Matt. I know the risk you're taking by crossing the line."

"James," Matt said his tone level but firm. "We can never be even. You gave me my life, nothing I can ever do will ever repay that."

"You'll be helping me save Blair's life, that's more valuable to me than I can possibly tell you. But Matt if it does go south I'll tell them I hired you and you had no idea what I was doing. As far as you know we just hired you to fly a plane. I'll make sure you don't take the flak for my decisions. Speak to you soon Matt."

"Okay, bye James."

And the detective disconnected the call. Matt was a good man. The Sentinel knew he was playing with fire and he was risking two good friends' freedom.

But he knew resolutely it was the only way.

He took a deep breath as he walked back to the rental car and got back behind the wheel. He looked at his captain and told him his friend was on his way. They had two days to prepare.

The two men were silent as they drove to a local library and used a computer to surf the internet for information on the prison. They got detailed maps of the local area to plan their getaway and find a landing strip for Matt's plane. Then they drove to the prison to watch the changeover of guards and how busy or quiet the immediate area was at night. They soon began to form a pattern of the life of the prison. It was late by the time they got back to the hotel. They had another full day the following day and Jim planned to see Blair. He had another visiting permit from the governor and he planned to see Blair and apprise him of the situation. He also wanted to see the doctor and gauge whether they could count on his help. So much to do and only two more days to do it in. There was no way Jim was going to leave Sandburg in that hellhole any longer than was necessary. If Matt could arrive in Valparaiso in two days then that was when the prison break would take place.

CALAVERAS PRISON

The next day and the doctor phoned Jim and told the detective that the warden had a meeting in the city that afternoon. Jim knew then that it would be the perfect opportunity to see his friend. It was early afternoon and Jim and Simon had sat outside the prison waiting for the warden to leave. As soon as his car disappeared out of sight Jim went inside.

Simon sat in the rental car watching the outside of the prison as Jim ventured inside. The entire time he was inside he watched and learned. Every possible iota of information on how the prison ticked he mentally noted.

He was taken to a room and told to wait. The room was depressing, there was a wooden bench against one wall and not much else. A short while later the door opened by a guard and Blair entered the room, obviously unaware that he had a visitor. He looked dejected and was looking at the floor. The guard pushed him into the room and then stood by the door. Blair just stood there looking lost and alone.

"Hey Chief," Jim said and two blue eyes immediately snapped up.

"Jim," he whispered and the Sentinel smiled broadly.

Blair crossed the room in six hurried strides and was hugged eagerly by his friend. When the guard didn't object to their embrace Jim let it continue, putting as much feeling into it as he could. So Blair knew that he wasn't alone anymore.

His ribs were still sore from the guards' beating but Blair forgot the pain. Jim was here he was finally here. Finally Blair pulled away and Jim could see the tears in his eyes but he didn't speak, he was obviously emotionally overwhelmed to see his friend.

"You going to ask me if I'm guilty?" Blair asked finally in a quiet voice, his eyes looking away at the wall behind the Sentinel.

"Don't have to Chief, I know you didn't, couldn't, wouldn't willingly possess or supply drugs. I know you."

"Oh God Jim!" and Blair's resolve crumbled and the tears in his eyes spilled down his cheeks.

"It's okay," Jim said quietly. "Come sit down."

Jim gently guided his friend to the bench and they sat down. Jim kept his arm comfortingly round his friend's shoulder, staying close so he could tell him his plan without tipping off the guard.

Jim quickly surveyed his friend. Blair's face was a mass of bruising and he could see the fear in his smoky blue eyes, from the abject horror he had already been through. Blair's head tilted forward and his chin came into contact with his chest. Jim could see the dark circles under his eyes, those eyes had lost their sparkle and wonder. His hair was dirty, lanky and greasy. His clothing was rumpled and obscene prison attire. That was the first thing Blair was going to lose when he was out of the prison that damned depressing grey uniform.

"It's been a nightmare Jim right from the moment I was arrested. I had no phone call, no lawyer, nothing man. I was arrested and tried without even understanding half of what was going on and then I was banged up. Twenty years in this hellhole and I did nothing wrong."

"I know Chief. Someone set you up."

"Who would do that?" Blair asked wondering who could hate him so much that they wanted to see him rot in a place like this.

"That doesn't matter for the moment," Jim stated and then hazard a look at the door but the guard was smoking a cigarette and looking up and down the corridor outside, obviously not paying any attention to the two Americans. "You're going to be paroled junior," he whispered looking deeply into Blair's eyes so there would be no misunderstanding.

"What do you mean?" Blair asked.

"Listen to me Blair," Jim said squeezing Blair's shoulder firmly. "We're busting you out of here."

"Are you crazy!!" Blair responded. "You can't do that, you're a cop."

"Blair, listen to me. We'll clear your name back home. We are getting you out of here."

"We?"

"Simon and me."

"Simon's involved too. I don't believe it. Jim it's too risky. You and Simon can't risk your careers on me. This is too big man. I can't ask you to risk everything..."

"Blair, shut up for once," the Sentinel gently instilled and the grad student stopped talking.

"You haven't asked but it's what Simon and I are going to do regardless, whether you want us to or not. Tomorrow you need to be in the hospital overnight. I don't care if you have to fake an illness or what, just be there. Simon and I will come for you."

"You don't do anything by halves," Blair responded.

He couldn't believe what Jim was saying, part of him was horrified that the risk his two friends were planning on taking, but at the same time part of him was relieved. He was going to leave this terrible place once and for all.

"I'll be a wanted felon," Blair admitted not relishing that thought.

"Only in El Valparaiso, there's no extradition. I will clear your name but when we're back home. When you're safely back in Cascade. You don't belong here and I'm not leaving you here a minute longer than I have to. Okay?"

Blair nodded not trusting his voice. He felt the tears welling up again, but this time they were tears of hope.

"Now listen to me Sandburg. You've got to keep away from the warden."

"Tell me about it, he keeps asking me to tell him the names of some drugs contact."

"I heard him speaking to you in the hospital."

"Were you there?" Blair asked incredulous.

"Yes, they'd given you a sedative."

"I thought I could hear your voice but I couldn't reach it."

Blair looked at the guard and thought of surviving another day and a half in this place, but that was decidedly better than the prospect of 20 years. But he felt weary to the bone, even that short a time felt insurmountable in this awful place.

"I can see you're tired Chief, but you've got to stay strong and endure for just a little bit longer."

Blair turned his eyes to look at his friend's clear ice blue eyes.

"I'll try," the grad student replied.

"No Chief, you promise me!" and Jim's tone was adamant and immovable.

Blair was shocked on hearing his friend's obdurate tone and indicating that he wouldn't brook anything less.

"I promise," Blair replied.

"Good," Jim said his tone more amiable again as he smiled a half smile. "You do get yourself into some scrapes Chief."

"Tell me about it," he replied smiling at his friend's tongue in cheek droll humour.

They talked for ten more minutes before the guard ordered that it was time for the detective to leave.

Jim gave Blair a final hug and no more words were spoken as Blair moved to the door. He turned and raised his hand in goodbye to his friend, but Jim could see the hope in his eyes. The dejected haunting look had gone and had started to be replaced by the Blair he knew again.

Jim left the prison with determination and anticipation as plans continued to be made and put into place.

The time left before the prison break was hard for Blair. He tried to continue to act normally and keep a low profile. He felt constantly on edge as the day to day life at the prison continued around him. He continued to teach the other prisoners who wanted to learn. He felt a certain amount of guilt as he watched them that his friends were getting him out. He wished he could release them all but knew that it wasn't feasible. The majority of the people at the prison were guilty, even Raul, as sweet as the kid was, had committed a crime. It was the country's justice system that was to blame with its harsh sentences.

When Jim had first told him his plan he was horrified that Jim, a law enforcement officer, would even contemplate busting him out. It went against everything he believed in and to drag Simon into it as well, it was wrong somehow and they would be breaking the very laws they held sacred. One thing he did know was that he would never be able to repay either of them. But he had thought about Jim's reasonings and knew he couldn't prove his innocence in the prison and the warden was gunning for him. The thought of being a wanted fugitive in any country, even a small country like this small South American one didn't appeal to him. But the consequences weren't worth contemplating either. He wanted to live.

Blair was innocent and didn't deserve to be incarcerated in a place like this. The evidence had been planted in his room; he hadn't been given even basic legal rights. All Blair had done was cause someone to hate him so much that they had set him up to take a fall in a foreign country. He had no idea who it could possibly be. But he didn't have the energy to think about who they were just yet. He had to get out of the prison and the country first. Blair hated Jim and Simon risking themselves for him but he knew he would do the same in a heartbeat to get either of his friends out of a similar jam. Friends did that for each other. Both Jim and Simon were two of the finest friends a man could have. Especially Jim and the academic in Blair couldn't help but wonder if it was the Sentinel in Jim that was trying to protect him. The Sentinel protected the tribe and Blair was part of his tribe. Was there some primal instinct that was causing the Sentinel to act? But the anthropologist dismissed the thought again; he didn't have the energy to think about anything at the moment other than getting out.

There was still a day and a half before Jim's rescue attempt. Blair knew he had to remain vigilant.

He wasn't free yet.

The observer in Blair watched the prison moving in continual motion around him. He watched as a prisoner was beaten up by another prisoner, he watched as a guard used more force on a disruptive prisoner than was necessary, he watched as drugs were bought and sold by the prisoners from the guards, he watched as he saw inmates high on the drugs. He watched but didn't act.

It was well known in the prison that the warden was the lynchpin in the prison's drugs problem. He was the one behind the constant supply of hard drugs in the prison. No wonder he wanted his nonexistent drugs supplier. There were a lot of prisoners and judging by the amount of drugs he'd seen changing hands, he would need a large quantity of drugs available.

The days went by and Blair felt guilty as he taught his students for the last time. He daren't say anything to even Raul as he went through the motions. He couldn't help but wonder what futures they had in the prison and once they were released. They were fighters that much was evident. He didn't harbour any illusions that he would be able to help them once he was back in the States. He'd never be able to return to El Valparaiso ever. Blair's resolve held firm not to give any hint to Raul. He only had to think what Jim and Simon were risking and he remained close lipped. 'Loose lips sink ships' he told himself as he willed himself to remain acting normally.

Blair was working on a way to get into the hospital that night as per Jim's plan. He'd contemplated bumping into a Neanderthal prisoner who would probably retaliate with his fist; it was an option though a painful one. He thought about feigning an illness, but that was the oldest trick in the book. He thought his best option was to fall over in front of one of the guards and fake a twisted ankle or something.

But before he could implement one of his options, a guard told him that he had to report to the hospital. Blair couldn't believe his luck.

Doctor Yniguez was waiting for him when the guard took him into the hospital wing. The doctor immediately started fussing around Blair, ordering him to sit down and checking his bruises, pulse and temperature.

"You have a temperature," the doctor stated for the benefit of the guard. "You have not recovered sufficiently from the beating you received a few days ago. You will have to stay here over night. You can leave him here guard."

The guard nodded and left. Then the doctor turned to his patient.

"Your friend Jim Ellison contacted me. He told me about the early release he has planned for you," and the doctor smiled. "I agreed to help him."

"Why?" Blair asked.

"I have my reasons. There are too many innocent people in this place. The country's corrupt legal state needs overhauling. I wish I could help more, but I am only one man."

"One man can make a difference," Blair offered. "There have been many inspiring men and women in the past who have helped their countries. Look at Ghandi."

"Maybe," the doctor replied and regarded the young man.

He had told himself he would not get involved with this young American, but here he was helping him to escape from the prison where he worked. But he knew he could do no more when Blair's battered form had been brought to him. The warden and the guards were worse than the majority of the prisoners with their viciousness and corruptness. Then the doctor had known the American had to get out or he would die at the establishment's hands. He had been tempted to help him escape himself but the risk was too high. He had thought about contacting the authorities for an appeal on his case, but appeals were seldom heard or convictions overturned. El Valparaiso was akin to a communist state at times and its people treated no better than the convicts in the prison.

Then when Blair's friend had spoken to him at his home he knew then that he would help no matter what the American asked of him and no matter what the risk to himself. The doctor knew it was the right thing to do as he had sat back and watched for too long the injustices he had been privy to at the prison. He had patched up one too many prisoners whose injuries had not been caused by his fellow inmates. Enough was enough, it was time to take a stand and who knew the American might be right. Maybe one man could make a difference and a glimmer of hope erupted inside of him as he thought of that notion; when normally there was nothing despondency and despair at his country's harshness, that maybe, just maybe he was that man.

Now the die was cast as he settled his patient into a bed, and the doctor knew there was no going back.

DOWNTOWN SAN MERCED

Jim and Simon had checked out of the hotel and then they had made the final preparations to their plan. They had spent the last two days working literally day and night to get the plan perfect. Now it was nearly time. They sat in their rental car in silence, patiently waiting for the allotted time to begin their 'mission'. They were both keyed up and also constantly going over the plan in their heads.

It was late after 11pm when they drove silently to the prison. They parked a good distance away from it and Jim kicked his Sentinel vision into play. He checked over the exterior of the prison and noted that all looked normal. Both men had changed into all black clothing. Without hesitation they both took out their detectives' shields and put them away reverently into their luggage. Neither man was a cop that night; that night they were ultimately Blair Sandburg's friends. They were ready.

They monitored the prison as they waited patiently until nearly 3am. Then they drove the car closer to the prison and parked in a silent alley. All was quiet and the car would not be noticed amongst the houses and alleyways that surrounded the prison. On foot the two men crept stealthily up to the prison to a gate at the back where supplies were brought in. Jim checked his watch. It was exactly 3am. He heard the lock snick silently and the door opened a crack. Jim nodded to Simon and the two men slipped inside. The doctor was there in the semi-gloom, a set of keys in his hand. The door revealed a short corridor with doors off on either side. Jim had seen the blueprints of the prison, acquired by the doctor, and had memorised the interior layout exactly. This was the kitchen area and the hospital was further in the complex.

Jim and Simon followed the doctor as they moved towards the hospital. The doctor had turned out to be the perfect ally and the prison break would have been a lot harder to plan without his help. Armed guards patrolled the prison at night but only in this part of the prison once an hour on the quarter to the hour. They had 45 minutes before the kitchens or the hospital was checked again.

Jim opened the door to the hospital and stopped in his tracks with Simon a step behind him. The doctor had left Blair fully clothed and ready to depart the minute his friends got there. To the two policemen's horror Blair was sat on a hospital bed with a guard training a gun on him.

"Come in," the guard said in Spanish to the Sentinel "and bring your friend with you." Simon was directly behind Jim but the doctor was out of sight and he pressed himself into the corridor wall. "I cut my hand but when I got here instead of finding the prisoner in bed, I find him well and dressed, and now his friends are also here."

Blair looked at the guard's gun pointed at him, then he glanced at Jim and saw the escape plan shredding into tatters before his eyes. He knew he shouldn't have agreed to it. Blair glanced back at the guard contemplating making a bid for the gun. He was too concerned for what his friends would lose if they were caught.

"I smell smoke," Jim suddenly said and immediately wondered if the doctor had started a diversionary fire. The wheels were whirling in the ex-Ranger's mind, taking in options in the tense situation before him. He was twelve feet away from Blair and the guard. Too far to reach his friend if the guard discharged his weapon.

"I don't smell anything," the guard replied in English and then looked at the doctor's phone to call for assistance.

Jim saw the look, but he couldn't let the guard summon anyone. Then suddenly there was definitely the aroma of smoke in the room. It was detectable to anyone even without Sentinel senses.

"I smell smoke too," Simon stated looking directly at the guard.

The guard wasn't so sure anymore and he felt afraid with three men to take into custody and now the prospect of the prison being on fire.

The distinct smell of acrid smoke was now permeating the room and the guard was distracted. Blair reached for the gun and moved it upwards with both hands, as he did this Jim closed the distance between them in moments. The ex-Ranger's fist connected with the guard's chin and he went down. The anthropologist had the guard's gun in his hand but looked like he didn't want to keep it. Jim relieved his friend of the weapon.

"I'm glad to see you man," Blair said to his Sentinel.

Simon opened the door and looked down the corridor and saw the doctor moving quickly back their way. The doctor moved into the room and was glad to see that the situation had been contained.

"I heard the guard's voice, so I set a small fire," the doctor explained. "Unfortunately it didn't stay small for long. It won't be long before the place is crawling with firefighters."

"It should help our escape," Jim said matter of factly and then turned back to his friend. "You up to leaving this joint?"

"Try and stop me," Blair responded.

The four men went to the door and out into the corridor. The smoke was starting to get visibly thicker and it wouldn't be long before it was discovered. They made it to the corridor near the kitchen when the fire alarms sounded. Jim heard a guard approaching and they moved into a store room to let him pass.

"Guard's early," Simon whispered.

"Leave him to me," the doctor said and turned to Blair.

"You can't stay here," Blair said. "They'll know you helped us."

"I'll be okay," the doctor assured him. "Good luck Blair. Send me an anonymous postcard or something when you get home so I know you're safe."

"I will. Thank you doctor, for everything."

Without preamble the doctor left the room and Jim could hear him talking to the guard. He was telling him that he believed there was a fire and that he had been to the kitchen for coffee. He had to evacuate his patient. They started to go away from them, so Jim, Simon and Blair left to go back towards the exit that would lead to outside.

Jim heard the doctor shout 'No' and a shot rang out.

"What was that?" Blair asked.

Jim knew that the guard had somehow caught on to the doctor's complicity in what was going on at the prison and they had fought for the guard's gun. Jim had plainly heard the doctor's gasp of pain but he also knew they couldn't help him.

"We've got to keep going," Jim emphasised by grabbing Blair's arm and propelling him along to the door and freedom.

Jim could now hear more sounds as the prison erupted. The prisoners had caught scent of the smoke and they were now in consternation and fear of being burned alive in their cells. The three men retraced the two policemen's entry into the prison and they were soon out beyond the last locked door, courtesy of the doctor's keys, and out into the dark night.

They moved silently and quickly to the alley where they had left the rental car. Jim's Sentinel gift was on high alert as he listened, looked and smelled their environment. But other than the odd cat or rat, there was no one on the streets anywhere near the prison. That wouldn't last for long and already Jim could hear the first sounds of a siren approaching the prison. Jim and Simon got into the front of the car as Blair got into the back and lay down on the back seat, a blanket hiding him in the car's dark interior.

Jim started the car and drove slowly away, so as not to attract attention. He glanced back and saw smoke and flames lighting up the night sky. The doctor had done a good job 'torching' the prison. It would be some time before Blair was missed. The detective felt some guilt for the doctor after everything he had done for them. He hoped he wasn't hurt badly and he would be alright. Any mission was dangerous and there could be casualties on both sides. His only goal that night had been to free Blair. You had to focus on your mission no matter what the cost, whether it was personal or otherwise. Blair was free, now for the second part of their plan, which hinged solely on the British pilot Matt Mackay.

ABANDONED AIR STRIP 35 MILES NORTH OF SAN MERCED

"Well Jim?" Simon Banks asked as he glanced up into the night sky, though he knew he had no hope of seeing anything.

Jim was craning his Sentinel hearing to their limit for any signs of the British pilot's plane. They were five minutes late getting to the abandoned air strip they'd found on the map and checked out. It was perfect for their mission. It was remote, though very rough, but it was long enough and the previous day they'd removed weeds and various plants, making sure it was useable. There were numerous potholes and stones so it might be a bit rough but it was, in their opinion, landable on.

There was nothing but silence and ever present darkness.

"He'll be here," Jim said looking round them into the darkness. They were all looking up into the black dome above them, into a clear velvet black sky that was full of stars. In the distance to the west and east there was nothing but mountains, to their south lay San Merced. The city's lights weren't visible. There was nothing but the three of them for miles in any direction, other than the occasional nocturnal creature.

"You okay Chief?" the Sentinel asked.

Blair nodded knowing his friend could see him in the darkness. "I will be when we get out of here. Um, Jim about your pilot friend," Blair stated a little apprehensive about being caught and hauled back to that hellhole and getting more years added onto his sentence.

"He'll be here."

The three men stood in the darkness, each second ticking by and seeming an eternity. Blair's thoughts were in turmoil. He hadn't dared hope to actually get out of the prison and here they were stood in the darkness. He could almost feel that he had been missed at the prison and they were already hot on their heels. He should never have agreed to let Jim and Simon break him loose.

"I'm sorry Jim..." Blair said his voice hitching "for getting in this mess."

Jim was silent but Blair wasn't offended as he knew his friend was using his abilities and concentrating solely on them.

"It's not your fault," Simon said as the Sentinel's hearing craned for the sound of the elusive engine, he so desperately needed to hear.

He knew Matt would be flying low below radar, as this flight was distinctly unofficial. There would be no trace of the flight being anywhere near San Merced. Matt had plotted his route carefully flying into El Valparaiso airspace for the least amount of time feasible.

"Don't zone man," Blair said when Jim remained still and quiet.

"I hear something," Jim whispered.

God let it be the plane the anthropologist thought.

"He's coming," the Sentinel said and he and Simon immediately moved and lit the beacons they had placed down each side of the makeshift runway.

Immediately a long avenue of light could be seen from the night sky. A few minutes went by and Simon and Blair could now hear the approaching plane's engines. They could see the faint blinking lights of the plane's exterior strobe lights on the wings' tips.

"How do you expect your friend to land on that?" Blair enquired.

The landing strip was hardly landable during the day let alone in the darkness. There was no moon and no other discernible light other than the roaring torches lining each side of the runway. But there was a very good reason why Jim had immediately thought of his old friend when he had thought of his crazy rescue attempt. Matt had a secret that Jim had guessed years ago, through his own experiences.

"Matt's got the best eyesight of any man I've ever met next to mine," the Sentinel stated, letting the inclination of that statement hang.

"Are you saying that Matt's a Sentinel?" Blair asked immediately, his mind still sharp and his academic curiosity instantly piqued.

"No, but I think he's got one enhanced sense – his eyesight. He'll be able to land."

The three friends listened and waited as the plane's engines droned louder and closer. Suddenly they heard a squeal of wheels and they knew the plane had touched down. They heard it taxiing down the rough runway and the engines revved a few times and then went to an idling sound nearby.

"Stay close Blair, Simon," Jim commanded as they used flashlights to find the plane which was barely silhouetted by the beacons. Jim didn't want either of his friends injured by the jet's engines.

The Learjet 60's door opened and a distinctly British accent shouted to them.

"Over here chaps."

The three Americans were soon onboard the plane. Blair didn't get chance to speak to his rescuer as he was already back in the cockpit and preparing the plane for take-off.

"We're aboard!" Jim shouted to the pilot.

Matt immediately gunned the engines and the plane taxied down the runway.

"Strap in!" he commanded not waiting for them to be ready for take-off.

The three men were soon strapped in and ready to leave the country. Then suddenly they were hurtling forward at a steadily increasing speed. Blair looked out of the window as the jet picked up speed, as the blazing beacons whizzing past. The plane was buffeted and jolted by debris on the strip of land that could be loosely called a runway.

It had been abandoned for a reason Jim couldn't help but think as the plane bumped and lurched along.

"Don't crash," Blair was muttering over and over again, a sort of mantra willing to plane to take off. He was holding onto each side of his seat, his knuckles white.

Simon was sat calmly, an unlit cigar firmly embedded between his lips. His teeth making indentation makes on the cigar's shaft but outwardly he remained calm and dignified as the captain he was.

Then suddenly they were airborne and the jet began to climb.

Tears welled in Blair's eyes.

He was free!!

After ten minutes Matt called from the cockpit that they could undo their seatbelts. He told them that they would have to make one brief stop to refuel but then their next stop would be Cascade.

Blair's heart leapt with relief he was going home.

CALAVERAS PRISON, SAN MERCED

The fire was under control. It had taken two hours to contain. A guard had been found dead and burnt beyond recognition in a corridor by the hospital. At first they thought it was the doctor but one of the guards, Ramirez, was missing. There had been damage but thanks to the swift intervention of the Fire Service the whole prison hadn't been lost. The warden had been called at the fire's height and he had attended his prison.

The prison was a mess. The guards were just now managing to restore order. The prisoners had been rioting for hours, the smell of smoke instilling fear in them. And like anything that was caged they had reacted.

When order had been restored, a head count had been taken and it was discovered that regrettably one prisoner was missing. To the warden's infuriation and eternal displeasure it was discovered it was the American. He'd been in the hospital at the time which had been destroyed by the fire. One body had been found in the hospital and it was first thought it was either the doctor or the prisoner, but it was found to be that of a guard. The doctor was also missing. Some blood had been found in a smoke stained corridor but so far there was no sign of either man.

The warden was beginning to think that the doctor had been hoodwinked by the Americano anthropologist and he'd helped him to escape. And what better way than during a fire. The angry warden wouldn't put it past them to have set the fire.

The warden stalked the smoke stained corridor to his office. He was seething with anger but he was also scared. He knew it was all over. His reputation as warden was shot, the government did not look favourably on a prison that had had a fire, a riot and an escaped prisoner all in the same night. The blame would stop with him.

Sandburg, before his escape, had not told him the name of his drugs contacts, if he was out of a job there was no way he could pay back his gambling debts. His mistresses were high maintenance and expensive to keep. The warden knew he had to make plans. He had to leave, escape this life, go somewhere no one knew him, take a fake name and start a new life.

He opened the door to his office and went inside. You could smell the smoke even in there, it was everywhere. The warden stopped in his tracks as behind his desk sat a smiling Doctor Yniguez.

"Come in warden and shut the door. We have lots to talk about," the doctor said calmly.

"You fancy my job huh doctor? You're welcome to it."

"If I did, I couldn't do any worse a job. You treat these people like animals. Worse than animals. They're human beings. You've brutalised and terrorised this prison for long enough."

"Just discovered your backbone huh doctor," the warden uttered with a totally condescending tone of voice. "It's too late anyway."

"Thirty years ago I took the Hippocratic Oath to preserve life. I've always tried to do just that, until I realised that I had been turning a blind eye to your perverted way of running this prison. No more Warden Arroyo. You see a young American man came to this prison, an intelligent and innocent man who was full of life and had his whole life in front of him. His suffering at your command gave me strength, when I though there was none, to say 'no more'. I thought you and this god damn place had leached all myself worth and moral principles out of me."

"He was sentenced according to our laws."

"Our inflexible and unjust laws," the doctor countered.

"You helped him escape didn't you?"

The doctor smiled and nodded his head.

"Damn you to hell doctor, you've ruined everything, ruined me and everything I've worked for."

"You ruined it by your own hands warden."

"I'm not going to let you get away with it. I'm going to kill you for that," he hissed taking a step closer to his desk and the medical man sat behind it.

The doctor held up his blood soaked left hand, that he had been cradling against a wound in his side unseen beneath his jacket.

"Seems one of your guards got there ahead of you."

A shot suddenly boomed in the warden's office and the two men stared at each other for a few long seconds. Then the warden sank to his knees. He glanced down at the glowing spread of red on his chest. Warden Arroyo's horror glazed eyes looked back over at the doctor, who produced a gun that had been hidden under the desk.

"I found this in your desk drawer," the doctor said as he threw the gun onto the desk.

Unable to speak the warden sank to the floor already dead; his eyes open and unfocused showing the stunned shock of his sudden demise.

The doctor thought of the young man who had come into his life and had given him courage.

"Told you not to get involved with that prisoner," he reprimanded himself, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. He felt alive, the most alive he'd felt for years; though the life was steadily slipping out of the doctor's body. He smiled as he had never felt so alive. He knew he had been right to help the American. He had always been a good judge of character. It was a shame he couldn't help any more of the prisoners. At least his cousin's wrongful death in prison all those years ago had been avenged and repaid by the rescue of one prisoner in their country's corrupt justice system. That made the doctor die with contentment as his heart stopped beating and he welcomed death's embrace.

A short time later a guard checked on the warden's office and found the two dead men. He was horrified. It had been a strange night at the prison. He backed out of the room to raise the alarm.

RESCUE FLIGHT

"How you feeling Chief?" the detective asked his partner.

"Better," Blair admonished with a contented sigh.

Jim raised an eyebrow at that. "I want to check you over."

"Stop fussing," Blair responded.

"I was a medic Chief you know that."

"I know but it's nothing that can't wait until we're home."

"Chief you look beaten, dehydrated, half starved and goodness knows what else."

"Yeah, well they were the longest two weeks of my life man."

"The kid will be okay Jim after some decent meals and some rest," Simon added seeing his staunch detective fussing over their friend.

"I want to thank you both for coming to the rescue like that. I hope it doesn't cause you any problems. I can't say I'm not grateful, and there's a selfish part that is beyond grateful that you did, but the other part is concerned about your careers. Cops don't bust people out of prison. I never thought I'd live to see Jim Ellison and Simon Banks staging a prison break," Blair half teased, trying to lift the tension he was feeling for their actions.

"Once in a lifetime hopefully," Simon added, still not believing he'd actually done it. But looking at Blair's battered face, Jim had called it right, under the circumstances the kid wouldn't have survived much longer in that prison.

"We weren't cops in Valparaiso we were two concerned friends," Jim added. "This isn't over you know Chief. An American woman set you up for that fall and we've got to find out who she is and why she did it."

"Do you think she'll try again? Try to get me convicted in an American court this time?" Blair enquired a little apprehensively.

"I don't know," Jim replied thoughtfully.

"We'll stop her," Simon added and Blair nodded.

He couldn't think of anyone who felt such animosity for him as to want him convicted of a crime.

Jim had moved to the back of the plane and came back with some bottled water and his and Simon's luggage. He handed the water to Blair and told him to drink. Blair did suddenly feel very tired and every bit the blooded and battered anthropologist he was. He watched through bleary eyes as his friends removed their gold shields and reclaimed them. Blair knew exactly what it had cost both men that night to rescue him.

"Why don't you rest Blair, we'll be home in a few hours," Jim said.

Blair nodded and settled down across two seats of the plane, his smaller frame easily curling up on the seats. Jim found a blanket and covered his friend. It wasn't long before Blair was asleep.

As their friend slept Jim and Simon quietly talked.

Jim's pale blue eyes bore into his captain's eyes. "How can someone as laid back and unassuming as Sandburg have such a formidable enemy that she wanted him banged up in a foreign country on drugs possession. She knew that Blair would get a lengthy sentence in that country."

"She'd obviously been watching him and knew he would be going to that country on that dig," Simon said.

"Don't forget Blair was a last minute replacement on that dig."

"Yeah, she only had a short window of opportunity to execute her plan."

"That's what frightens me the most Simon, she did it easily, so effortlessly and none of us even saw it coming."

"There's something else worrying you isn't there Jim?" Simon added.

Jim glanced over to where Blair was soundly sleeping. His bruised face a clear beacon to the ordeal he'd been through. "She's still out there and I know she's going to strike again."

"Then we'll just have to watch the kid and make sure we catch her when she does," Simon added.

Jim nodded but he had a very bad feeling about this. They'd rescued him from one hell, but the Sentinel had the feeling that a whole new hell was about to be unleashed. He didn't know what or how he knew he just did. This wasn't over yet.

He shivered though the interior of the jet was a pleasant warm temperature. His gaze moved out of the small window. It would soon be dawn and he could just see the first slivers of light encroaching on the horizon, the dawn of a new day.

The Sentinel continued to feel uneasy as the jet continued through the night, on its steady journey to Cascade and home.

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