"Boss?" the voice was soft and uncertain. Zeller turned around in the chair, and saw Lucas standing in the doorway of the study, looking at him nervously.

Zeller's face was expressionless. "Yes Lucas?" he said coldly. "You have something you'd like to say?" He'd been expecting this, and was actually surprised it had taken Lucas as long as it did to come crawling to him.

Lucas came into the room, fiddling with his hands, his old familiar stutter back in his voice. "Um...boss.... Boss...um..I...I...just wanted to...um, say...." Lucas broke off, and Zeller was amused to see tears beginning to flow down the misshapen face.

"Go on," Zeller said, standing up and approaching the giant. "It's OK, I'm listening." He folded his arms, and smiled a little. Lucas was completely under his control again. Klaus was glad of that, he really didn't want to lose his best heavy to something as stupid as misguided loyalties. Now things would be fine; soon Sandburg would be dead, along with his partner, and everything would return to normal.

Lucas sighed, and began to speak again. "I...I'm sorry boss. I just...I don't know what...um... was wrong with me. I'm... not very smart, I guess. Please don't send me away!" Lucas looked right into Zeller's eyes with the last sentence, pleading.

The Ice Man reached out and patted the big man's shoulder. "That's good, I'm glad to hear that you have come to your senses." Zeller paused, then added "You're an important part of this team, Lucas, and I'd hate to lose you."

Lucas nodded and turned to go, and suddenly Zeller looked up at him, thinking. Perhaps one last test of loyalty.

"Lucas?" he asked. The big man paused in the doorway and turned to face Zeller. The Ice Man spoke, studying Lucas's face for a reaction. "You do know of course that I cannot let the young man live, don't you?" Klaus suspected there was a bond developing between hostage and henchman; he wanted to see how strong it was.

Lucas just stared at the floor. "Yes sir...um...I thought so...." He turned to head out the door again, then paused and asked "Will you kill the detective, too? Even if he does what you told him to do?"

"Yes, I will. I'm going to kill both of them." Zeller was watching Lucas like a hawk. "What do you have to say about that?"

Lucas stared at the floor for a long time, thinking. Then he turned to face Zeller again, with a slow, evil smile spreading across his face. "Good."

Zeller sighed, and smiled at the giant. "Excellent, that's the Lucas that I know." He stepped forward and patted the big man's shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

To Zeller's surprise, Lucas suddenly threw his arms around him. "Thanks, boss."

Zeller tolerated the giant's embrace for a moment, then shrugged him off. "All right, all right, that will do." He stepped back from the overly affectionate oaf and returned to his chair to monitor the radio linking him with his team, unaware that Lucas' infamously deft fingers had just been put to use again.

* * * * * * *

Jim made his way around the sensors and back to where Icart was standing, about to blow the door. Icart glanced up as the detective approached, pretending to fiddle with the two-way radio.

"It was the guard," Jim said. "I guess he wasn't dead after all. Skiff's just finishing him off now." He fiddled with the radio again, then huffed.

"What's up Jimmy-boy?" Icart asked. Problem with the radio?

Jim shrugged "Gerad just tried to tell me something, but I think there's something wrong with the antenna on this radio." He looked at Icart. Do you have another radio?" he asked.

Icart shook his head. "Nope, that's the only one, except for Gerad's."

Jim looked up at him with a smile. "Good!" Before the thug knew what was happening, Jim grabbed him by the collar and flung him forward. Icart fell and slid along for a few feet, as Jim turned and bolted for the stairwell. He turned just in time to see Icart pass through one of the infrared beams.

There was a wail of alarms, and heavy panels of bullet-proof plexi quickly shot down from the ceiling, trapping the German inside. Icart struggled to his feet, charged at the transparent barrier, and began pounding on it, yelling obscenities at Ellison.

Jim, safe on the other side, watched as yellow gas began pouring into the area containing Icart. The German turned and saw the gas, and turned back, making eye contact with Ellison just as the gas overtook him.

Jim walked right up to the glass, and shouted through it at the thug, who was slowly sinking to the ground.

"Don't call me Jimmy-boy!" Then Jim whirled on his heel and bolted into the stairwell. He glanced at his watch. 4:00. One hour left! *Hang on partner, I'm coming!*

Jim had just reached the door leading outside, when the two way radio sputtered to life. He looked down at it in alarm, as Gerad's voice came through.

"Report, men. What's happening?" The voice was calm. Jim suspected the alarms weren't detectable from the van where Gerad was waiting.

"Ellison here. Everything's under control. We're about to blow the door now!" Jim said. He hoped the acting abilities that had helped him deal with the other three thugs would help again now.

Gerad was speaking again. "Excellent, detective. Zeller will be very pleased to hear you've cooperated."

Jim smiled, and began to relax. He stepped out the door and began slinking along the back of the building, intending to take Gerad out and get the radio away from him before he could call Zeller. He froze as Gerad's voice came through the unit again.

"Let me talk to Skiff for a second."

Jim was torn. What to do? *Think fast, Ellison!* he thought. He grabbed the antennae of the radio and began to bend and wrench it around as he replied to Gerad. "What, Gerad...can't...reception...breaking up!" He was behind the van now, and began creeping up along side of it.

Gerad winced and held his radio at arm's length, as the annoying sound of static obscured most of the detective's words. He began to fiddle with the knobs, when a sudden sound made him look up. It was the sound of police sirens! He watched in horror as a patrol car came screaming into the parking lot, in response to the alarms being tripped inside.

Gerad was about to start the van and make a break for it, when movement to his left caught his eye. He turned just as Jim's fist came through the open window and connected with his jaw.

Gerad reeled back form the force of Ellison's fist. He quickly grabbed his radio and tried to scramble out the passenger door as Jim yanked open the driver's side door and reached in for him. The detective managed to snag the Gerad's radio, and tried to yank it out of the thug's hands. But Gerad had too good a grip on the unit, and all Jim was able to do was break off half of the antenna before Gerad got it away form him. The dark haired man leapt out of the van, hit the pavement and bolted, speaking into the radio as he did.

"Zeller! Gerad to Zeller! Ellison's double crossed us!" he shouted, running for the Caddy. Jim was hot on his heels, followed by the two officers that had jumped out of the squad car.

"Stop! Police!" shouted one of the officers as they pursued the two men across the parking lot.

Jim pounced on Gerad before the weasely man made it to the car, and punched his lights out. The radio fell and was smashed to pieces on the pavement. Jim stared at the remains in horror; had Zeller heard?

Jim turned, pulling out his badge as the officers ran up to him with their guns drawn. He quickly explained the situation, then jumped into the van, started it, and gunned the engine, leaving the local force behind to secure Gerad and the building.

Jim sped down the street, wishing he had his flashing light to put in the window. He could remember what direction the van had turned into the parking lot, and two or three of the turns before that. He was trying to save time, before he had to start relying on his trail of antacids. As he made a left turn, he slowed, unable to remember anymore of the trip. He opened his senses of smell and sight to the max, scanning for one of his "antacid landmarks."

There was nothing for a few minutes, and Jim was just about to give up, when a scent reached his nostrils. He slowed the van even more on the nearly deserted road and slowly rotated his head. He scanned for the direction of the minty scent, and suddenly found it! Even in the darkness of the early morning, his Sentinel sight showed him the tiny round wafer sitting in the middle of the road.

Jim almost cheered, as he turned the wheel sharply, heading toward the antacid, then past it, senses already scanning for the next one. His loony idea was working, after all!

* * * * * * *

Blair struggled helplessly as huge arms grabbed him. Across the room, he saw Jim watching him in horror, a gun pressed to his temple by Zeller's blond henchman. The needle was coming closer, he had to get away! He lunged out at The Ice Man, who abruptly belted him across the face. Blair reeled, stunned. Zeller grabbed his arm again. The syringe... NO! Oh GOD! What was he doing?! No, please... NO! The sting of a needle.... NOOOO!!!!!

"NO!!!" Blair gasped as he woke up. He looked around quickly, seeing Lucas sitting beside him on the bed.

"You OK?" Lucas asked, quickly concealing his right hand behind his back as the young man looked around. "Bad dream?"

Sandburg nodded, trembling. The flashback had been so... so *vivd*! He rubbed the spot on his arm where Zeller had injected him with the poison. It still seemed to sting a little. Must be his imagination; dreams didn't cause physical pain! The young anthropologist was sweating buckets, as the trembling slowly faded. He'd had another very bad attack a few minutes after Lucas had left the room, and apparently had lost consciousness. He smiled a little at Luacs' concerned look, and spoke as the giant smiled serenely down at him.

"Hey, I was starting to think something had happened to you." Blair gritted his teeth as he felt another small surge of pain in his chest. He was worried; the pain was changing, it seemed to be striking directly at his heart. He was also burning up with fever.

Blair glanced at his watch, and groaned. 4:10. According to what Jim had explained to him, he had fifty minutes left in which to use the antidote. After 5AM it would be too late. *C'mon Jim, you're cutting this one a little close!* he thought, closing his eyes in exhaustion. A moment later he felt a big hand on his forehead, and he opened his eyes to see Lucas gazing down at him.

"You've got a bad fever," Lucas said. He quickly pressed an ice pack to the young man's head with his left hand, while deftly slipping his hidden right hand into his pocket.

"Yeah, I know. My time's running out," Blair replied sadly, looking up helplessly at the big man. *Well, I didn't want to ever cause Jim trouble again," he thought. *I suppose dying is one way to take care of that!* He hadn't noticed the discreet actions of Lucas' right hand. He reached up and took the ice pack from the giant's hand and held it to one of the many sore spots on his face.

"Thanks for the ice," he said, with a smile. Then his face fell as he added softly, "Not that my face is going to matter much in about an hour, if Jim doesn't pull this thing off." Resigned, Sandburg dropped back against the pillows with a sigh.

Lucas shook his head. "No... it's all right. You're going to be fine."

Blair looked up at him, doubting the certainty of that statement. Lucas just smiled.

* * * * * * *

Zeller hovered over the radio in his study, trying to fine tune it as he heard Gerad's voice. His right hand man had sounded very excited about something, but the words were indistinguishable. Zeller was about to respond when he heard something through the static; the unmistakable sounds of police sirens. He listened in disbelief as he heard the sounds of the sirens get very close and stop. Next he heard the sound of running feet, and then a strange voice...

"Stop! Police!"

Zeller stared at the radio, as it went dead. Then he slowly stood up, realizing what had happened. Ellison had double crossed them, it was the only explanation. His own team was far too careful for the police to have been alerted.

Trembling with rage, Zeller crossed the room and got Jim's gun from the top drawer in his desk. He smiled and he ran his hands over the barrel. It seemed an especially poetic way to kill the young anthropologist, with his partner's own gun. Zeller glanced at the clock on the wall, which read 4:15.

"Oh well," he muttered softly. "Looks like Mr. Sandburg is going to be spared another three hours of pain." He smiled as he strode out the door and headed for Lucas' room.

* * * * * * *

"What are you talking about, Lucas?" Blair asked feebly, weak with fever. He looked uncertainly up at the giant, who continued to grin down at him. Before Lucas could answer, his head snapped around at a voice from downstairs.

"Lucas!"

It was Zeller! Lucas jumped to his feet. Had Zeller discovered what his "loyal henchman" had done?

"Lucas, it's time! Will you please bring our young guest downstairs?" Zeller's voice was deceptively cheerful.

"Time for what?" Blair asked nervously, as the giant turned to him. He was startled as Lucas suddenly scooped him up in his huge arms. "Hey, what are you...?"

"Shhh!" Lucas hissed at him, striding out the door. "Zeller's going to kill you!"

Blair's fever-bright eyes widened. Misunderstanding, he tried to struggle out of the giant's grip, as Lucas continued.

"No, it's OK! I know a safe place we can hide!" Lucas paused at the top of the stairs, trying to pinpoint his boss' location. Blair stopped struggling and wrapped his arms around the giant's neck as Lucas moved quickly down the stairs and into a room at the end of the hall.

Blair looked around, recognizing the room as the same one where Zeller had been speaking to Jim. Where he'd been injected with the poison. Lucas gently set him down on the chaise lounge, and Blair laid back, his energy fading quickly. He limply lifted his wrist to look at his watch, and saw that it was 4:25. He closed his eyes, hoping that Lucas had another trick up his sleeve, a plan to get the antidote, or Jim wouldn't have to bother getting back in time!

Lucas was over by the fireplace. He reached up and pulled down sharply on one of the light fixtures mounted on the wall, as he'd seen Icart do once or twice. The fixture rotated downward with a *click*, and the sound of machinery filled the small room. Lucas stepped back and watched in delight as the entire fireplace receded.

Blair was staring from his position on the chaise lounge. Lucas came over and picked him up again, then crossed back to the secret passage and ducked inside. He took a few steps sideways, around the fireplace, and then moved forward into a small secret room. He had to kick a path through the piles of magazines, blueprints, and other various garbage as he crossed the small room.

He carefully put Blair down on a small sofa, and then turned and pulled the lever in the wall, listening as the fireplace slid back out into place. As darkness fell back over the room, Lucas reached out, flipped a switch, and smiled as a few small electric bulbs in the ceiling buzzed to life. He turned and looked around, nodding in satisfaction. Sandburg would be safe here, for awhile. He looked over at Blair, who was staring at him in amazement.

"What is this, the Adams Family house?" Sandburg asked, shivering. The room was chilly. "How did you know about this place, Lucas?" Blair started to stand up, but he was too weak.

Lucas stepped forward and caught his arm, and gently eased him back down on the sofa. He knelt in front of the anthropologist and explained. "Zeller doesn't know about this room. It's Skiff's. He designed it as part of a personal escape plan. He's the same guy who designed the passage through the stairway."

*Passage through the stairway?* Blair thought.

Lucas reached behind Blair and retrieved a blanket from the back of the sofa. He wrapped it around the shivering young man's shoulders as he continued. "I walked into the parlor as he was coming out of here, once. He made me promise not to tell Zeller about it. Skiff figured he could lay low in here, if the police ever found this place."

Lucas looked around distastefully at Skiff's clutter of wires, cables, and other odds and ends that he used in his work. "He also used it as a sort of a workroom, I think. I'm afraid he's not very tidy," he said to Blair, with a shrug.

Even in his fevered state, Blair's head had perked up at the word "police". He looked up at Lucas. "Hey! Lucas, can you get me to a phone?" He struggled up, and Lucas took hold of his arm, keeping him in a sitting position.

"You keep still, " the giant ordered. "You're not in any shape to try and move around yet!"

Blair recoiled a little at the command. *Yet? What does he mean, YET? Like I'll be in better shape in... how many minutes?* Blair glanced at his watch, and gasped in horror.

"Oh God!... 4:45!" he whispered. Blair's eyes were desperate as he looked up at the giant "Oh man...Lucas...I'm really getting short on time here! What am I going to do?"

Blair paused, then continued quietly, "Do you think..." he trailed off and looked at the ground, not quite sure how to ask Lucas his next question.

"Is there...is there...any way that you could get the antidote away from Zeller?" He sighed. He didn't know why he had asked; he knew it was hopeless. He was sure Lucas wouldn't go that far for him, not with the threat of being sent back to that hell-hole hospital over his head.

Lucas smiled, and promptly produced an empty syringe from his pocket. "I...um... already did."

Blair stared, unbelieving. "What?"

Lucas shrugged. "When you were unconscious before, when you had the bad dream, I injected you with the antidote." He smiled broadly. "Surprise!"

Blair gaped at him, trying to find his voice. "Why?" he whispered.

Lucas sighed, then shyly turned his gaze away from Sandburg, big hands fidgetting with the empty syringe. After a minute, he finally began to speak, and Blair had to strain to hear the soft, uncertain voice.

"For years now I just did whatever Zeller told me to do. I was just his big, dumb strong man. Nothing but a pair of hands and some muscle to him." Lucas was scowling now, as he remembered the things he'd done to win The Ice Man's favor. He took a deep breath, and continued. "I did the things that Zeller told me to do. Bad things. Things that hurt people." The big face turned, mismatched eyes met Blair's.

"But when he was hitting you, while you were unconscious, it just... I couldn't...." Lucas broke off, as if searching for the right words.

Blair was just gazing up at him, eyes wide. "Go on... talk to me, Lucas," he urged softly.

Lucas slipped the empty syringe back into his pocket, and came to sit on the sofa beside Blair. "I don't really know what happened," said the giant. "But something snapped, I guess. I just knew that I couldn't work for a man who would do something like that..." he turned and met Blair's eyes, continuing "To someone like you." Embarrassed, the big man lowered his head and stared at the floor.

"Like me?" Sandburg asked, laying his hand on the giant's arm.

The giant didn't respond for a moment. Then he slowly lifted his head and studied Blair.

"You're a nice person, Mr. Sandburg," he said. "I mean, you cared about my feelings before, when you called me...you know." The giant seemed to look inward for a moment, before adding "Nobody besides Mom and Dad ever cared about me, except to use me to do dirty work for them." He shrugged. "You just made me realize that I've been wasting my life here, with these people." He sighed, and smiled gently. "I can do better."

Blair was smiling as he tried to understand what Lucas was telling him. But something strange was happening to him. The pain of the toxin was almost gone, but suddenly he felt dizzy and weak. He could barely keep his eyes open. "Lu... Lucas?" he said feebly. "Lucas, I feel funny." Blair studied his arm nervously, looking at the spot where he'd been injected with the antidote. "Are you sure that antidote works?"

"Huh? Oh, don't worry, that's normal," Lucas replied with a dismissive wave. "I remember when Zeller tested the stuff on me, the antidote just wiped me out." He grinned at Blair's look of horror.

Sandburg gasped. "Zeller tested this on you?" His hatred toward The Ice Man increased.Lucas nodded. "He said he picked me because I was so strong, he figured the toxin wouldn't affect me as strongly as it would the other guys. He said the antidote is as powerful as the toxin, in the way it affects your body." He leaned forward and studied Blair's eyes, then nodded.

"Yeah, it's definitely beginning to work. You'll probably pass out for a little while, as the antidote goes through your system. Don't be afraid, it's normal." Lucas stood up and moved Blair around so the young man could lay down on the sofa. He covered Blair with the blanket as he continued.

"You said you wanted to use the phone before. Is there someone you want me to call for you?" Lucas tucked the blanket around Blair, as the young man's eyes fluttered closed.

"Mmm... yeah," Blair murmured, barely conscious. He felt strange, but good. There was a pleasant warmth, almost a tingling spreading through his body. He sighed sleepily before continuing.

"I want you to call... Simon Banks... and also... the Seattle police... and tell them where I am. And tell them... where to find Jim... too." Blair gave Simon's number in Cascade, then his cell phone number, before losing consciousness.

Lucas reached down to lay a hand on Blair's forehead. The fever was almost gone, indicating that the young man was out of danger. Lucas sighed, relieved. He really hadn't been sure of what he was doing when he gave Blair the injection, but it looked like he'd done it right.

Quietly, Lucas crossed to the exit and pulled the lever to open the passageway, cursing softly as his foot got tangled in one of Skiff's electrical cords on the floor. The passage opened with a whoosh, and Lucas peered out, looking and listening for Zeller. No sign of him. Then, with a final glance back at the prone form on the sofa, Lucas exited, sealing the secret room behind him.

* * * * * * *

Jim slammed on the brakes, sending the van skidding, hearing a sharp thud from the direction of the driver's seat as something heavy slid onto the floor. Jim put the van in reverse; he'd caught a glimpse of one of his antacids at the last intersection. He corrected his course, then floored the accelerator again, watching for the next tablet.

Glancing over at the source of the thud, he was relieved to see Gerad's gun lying on the floor. The thug must've lost it in his haste to get out of the van. Jim grinned in relief. He felt a lot more confident knowing he wasn't going to storm Zeller's hideout unarmed.

A slight change in the darkness off to the left caught his Sentinel sight. He glanced nervously out the window; the sky was just barely brightening in the east. He looked at his watch again and cursed...4:50!

Jim figured he had to be almost there. He knew it had been at least 45 minutes since he'd left the scene of the attempted heist. Another antacid in the road ahead of him caught his eye, and as the van flew forward, he caught sight of a huge old house ahead on the right. There were no other houses within his sight.

*That's got to be it!* Jim thought, swinging the van into the driveway. He jumped out, pulling out Gerad's gun, and carefully climbed the steps of the front porch. He had his senses scanning for any sound from within. He suspected that there would be only three people in the house. Sandburg, of course, plus Zeller and the giant, Lucas. *Unless there are more members of Zeller's team that I'm not aware of!* he thought.

Silently, he made his way through the front door, after listening for any signs of life. He stepped through into the front room and looked around in confusion. The place was deserted! There was no sign of anyone having occupied this house in a long, long time. It certainly wasn't the sight of the luxurious hideout he'd been in earlier. Jim's heart sank as he made the horrible deduction. *I've got the wrong house.* He was just turning to leave, when....

*ACHOO!!...ACHOO!!* Jim reeled back as he was suddenly seized by a horrible sneezing fit. *ACHOO!* He held his hand over his nose, trying desperately to block out the assault of the...dust....! *Wait a second!*

Jim quickly examined the floor by the door, remembering the terrible sneezing fit he'd suffered earlier as he'd left Zeller's hideout. He was scanning the layer of dust on the floor for...*YES!*

Footprints! Lots of them. It looked like this place wasn't deserted after all! Jim quickly located his own set of prints, easily recognizing the familiar pattern of his police boots. He followed his prints as they led backwards from the door, and up the stairs.

Stairs! Jim remembered going up a flight of carpeted stairs before. He placed his foot on the first step, and smiled as he recognized the same texture of carpet as before. He ran up the flight and was about to turn to explore the second floor of the house, when he stopped. He looked back down the flight, and counted 25 steps. He knew he'd only come up ten earlier, he'd counted!

Jim came back down to the landing again and looked up at the stairs. He focused his Sentinel sight on the bottom steps, and then moved his eyes up, noting that worn appearance of the carpet due to many feet passing over it. Then, about three-quarters of the way up, he noticed something strange. The steps at the top of the flight were barely worn at all! What the....

Jim closed his eyes and brought back his memories of the blindfolded journey he'd been led on. Through a dark corridor, possibly underground. Then...those funny machine-like sounds, a thump, a rush of air. Up ten steps, a pause...then down six!

His head snapped up as an idea formed. He counted six steps up, and paused, focusing his sight on the step he was standing on. He knelt, and held his sensitive fingers near the step, feeling a peculiar draft that seemed to come out of the stairs themselves. He moved sideways on the step, fingers still tracking the strange air current. There was a space behind this stairway, it was the only explanation.

He looked up. There had to be a hidden release, or something. But where? His legs were starting to hurt from kneeling, so Jim stood, grabbing the banister to help himself up. He felt something give under his thumb, and an instant later he heard a rumbling. Jim jumped back in alarm, pointing his gun as a section of the stairway dropped down inside itself. He ran to the opening and peered down inside, counting the ten steps that led down into a passageway.

Jim turned and stared at the banister. It was decorated with little wooden carved roses. He inspected the area he'd grabbed, and saw that one of the roses was worn smoother than the rest. From being pressed repeatedly, he mused. He'd just happened to hit the release when he grabbed the banister.

Jim shook his head, silently giving a prayer of the thanks to the Great God of Stupid Blind Luck as he ran down the ten steps. "Fate protects fools, little children and Blair Sandburg!" he muttered, as he looked again at his watch. 4:55. *This is going to be VERY close!*

* * * * * * *