"C'mon, c'mon, I've got a KNIFE! I'm going to KILL YOU! I'm going to stab you in the chest, rip out your heart, and then stand there to watch you DIE!! Don't let me do this to you! If you just stand there and do nothing, YOU'LL BE DEAD!!!" With a roar, Anderson lunged forward, slashing his arm down at Blair.

Blair had been staring at Anderson during the speech, and was startled as the big man charged at him. Now suddenly, it wasn't the gray-haired instructor who was about to stab him...it was Lash! It was Kincaid! It was.... Suddenly, instead of Anderson, Blair saw a combination of every killer he and Jim had encountered, charging right at him with a knife! He was going to die!

"AAAUUUUUUGH!"

Blair was startled at the echo of the cry that resonated in the large room. He was more surprised when he realized it had been him. Suddenly he looked around, and saw that he was standing at the opposite end of the room from Anderson, who was nodding at him and smiling. Blair didn't even remember moving!

Anderson was speaking again. "There, now you see?" He turned and spoke to the rest of the class, which was staring at Sandburg. "He listened to his instincts, instead of letting himself worry about what, specifically, he was going to do to protect himself..." He turned back to Blair "...and it kept you alive." He gestured at Blair, who crossed the room and came to stand before the instructor again.

Blair was confused. "You mean I did the right thing?" He looked uncertainly at Anderson, who nodded and patted him on the shoulder.

"You had an attacker coming at you, and you got the hell out of there! That's one of the first things to remember in a situation like that; if you're not within reach, the attacker usually can't hurt you." Anderson smiled proudly at him.

Blair didn't get it. "But...but all I did was run away. I thought self-defense was about standing up and protecting yourself, not bolting like a coward." Blair shifted from one foot to the other and glanced in embarrassment at the group.

Anderson rested his hand on Blair's shoulder and turned with him to face the people sitting on the floor. "Who here thinks what Sandburg just did was cowardly?" No one raised their hand. Jim was shaking his head at Blair, and followed with a thumbs-up.

"That's good," said the instructor. "Usually in a group like this there's at least one guy who thinks he's Hercules, and has to try and physically overpower an attacker." He turned to Sandburg.

"If the thought of running away from danger makes you feel cowardly, just remember; your pride will heal one helluva lot faster than a stab wound!" This got a wave of relieved laughter from everyone, even Blair; the demonstration had been quite graphic.

Jim laughed a little as well, glad to see the look of self-confidence that flashed over Blair's face as the instructor patted him on the back again, congratulating him. *I guess it's going to be all right after all.* he thought.

* * * * * * *

The rest of the three hour seminar went by quickly, consisting mostly of Anderson demonstrating moves to use if an attacker actually got hold of you. He showed the group various ways of deflecting blows, and also how to break an attacker's hold if he had you from behind. Then he had broken the class up in pairs, to let them practice their new skills.

Jim had guided Blair through the moves again and again, correcting and explaining when Sandburg's grip wasn't correct. But the kid never lost heart, never got discouraged with himself, he just kept at it until he got it right. It was a big improvement over his young partner's reluctant attitude of the night before, and Jim was proud of him. Especially when Blair was able to throw him to the floor a few times!

Later, after much-needed showers and a change of clothes, they decided to go out and grab some food. Blair had had his eye on a little restaurant on the corner a few blocks from the hotel, which he'd seen on their way to the museum. Afterwards, Jim planned to call Simon to tell him about Blair's success with the seminar, and Sandburg wanted to run to the library for a few hours, before it closed.

"Ohh, Chief. How do you do it?" Jim was groaning and rubbing his stomach as he and his partner walked down the street from the restaurant.

"Do what, Jim?" Blair looked up at him, putting on his backpack.

Jim grimaced down at him. "How do you go into any town, and manage to find the worst restaurant within a twenty-mile radius?" Another wave of stomach upset hit him, causing him to mutter "And how do you always convince me to eat there?" He still wasn't sure what exactly it was he and his partner had consumed at the little Pakistani eatery, but it sure wasn't something he'd try again!

Blair looked hurt. "What, you didn't like that? That was genuine Pakistani Shish Kabob!" He shook his head in disbelief at his partner's pained expression. "Man, do you know how hard it is to find good Kabob in this state?"

"No Chief, I don't. But if that was good Kabob, I don't ever want to try a bad one!" His stomach did another flip-flop. "Ohh, man...let's just go back to the hotel, OK?" All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep off the Kabob From Hell.

"Well, you can go back if you want, man." Blair stopped and turned to face his partner. "But I really need to run to the library and take some notes." He studied Jim's face. "You gonna make it?"

Jim gave his friend a reassuring, if not nauseated half-smile. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Just need to lie down for a little while." *What I need is an exorcist, to get this evil thing out of me!* He turned and started toward the hotel, calling back to Sandburg over his shoulder.

"Good luck Chief! Try and keep it down when you come in tonight, OK? I don't want a repeat of what happened at the loft last night!" With that, he turned the corner and vanished from sight.

Blair shook his head, chuckling to himself. He turned in the opposite direction and headed for the library, resisting the urge to run back to the hotel with his buddy. He wasn't really worried about Jim, but he felt a little guilty about the restaurant. He'd never admit it to his gruff partner, but sometimes he purposely looked for weird places for them to eat, just to see Jim's reaction.

*You're a mean kid, Sandburg!* He thought to himself. Then he grinned evilly, and continued toward the library, not noticing the sleek black car that had pulled away from the curb to follow Jim.

* * * * * * *

Ellison walked through the front doors of the hotel, still grimacing from his dinner. He looked around for Ed, but didn't see him anywhere. *Probably gone home for the evening*, he thought. Odd, though, that a hotel like this wouldn't have an evening doorman as well. *Maybe he's in the john,* Jim thought.

Ellison's stomach complained again. Jim crossed the lobby to the front desk, and asked the young woman working there for some antacid. She smiled, and told him reluctantly that she didn't have any, but suggested he try the gift shop. Jim gave her a gracious smile, and crossed the lobby to follow her advice.

Ten minutes later, bottle in hand, he returned and headed toward the elevator. He turned to thank the young woman for her advice, but she wasn't there. Instead, there was now a weasely, black-haired fellow minding the desk. There was still no sign of the doorman.

Jim walked up to the new desk clerk, looking around. "Where did the young lady go, that was here before?"

"She went home for the evening, not feeling well." The clerk smiled, and Jim felt his skin crawl a bit. The guy had the most unnerving smile Jim had ever seen. So...evil-looking.

*This is one man I'd be nervous to turn my back on.* Jim thought. *How on Earth did he get a job with customer service, with a smile like that?*

Jim managed a feeble smile in return, as he moved toward the elevator, saying "Well, if you see her, tell her the guy with the upset stomach said thank you!" He turned, and was about to step into the elevator, when something else crossed his mind.

"Oh, where's your doorman?" Jim inquired, pointing at the spot at the front door that Ed had occupied since Jim and Blair's arrival.

The man behind the desk shrugged coolly. "He doesn't work Saturday nights." He fixed Jim with an intense stare that reminded him of a snake ready to strike.

Jim nodded, as he stepped into the elevator. "Thanks," he said to the spooky desk clerk, as the doors closed. *What was HIS problem?* Jim wondered as the elevator started up. He shook a few of the minty antacid tablets out, and chewed them up, hoping to get some relief from the Pakistani torture inside his gut.

As he stepped out of the elevator and turned down the hall, his cell phone beeped. *Who could that be?* Jim flipped the phone open and held it to his ear, as he unlocked the door to the room. "Ellison."

"Jim!" It was Simon's voice, sounding distraught.

"Hey, Simon, I was just going to call you...." Then the captain's tone registered in his brain. "Simon, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Bad news, Jim...." He heard the captain take a deep breath before continuing. "We just got word that Klaus Zeller has escaped."

"What?" Jim's eyes widened... "When?" He entered the room, closing the door behind him and flipping on the lights.

"This afternoon," Simon said. "Reports say a couple of his henchmen busted him out. Actually blew one of the prison walls off!"

Jim sighed, then asked, "Do they know where he is?" He was checking his gun now, and sticking it back into the holster.

"Not a clue," replied the captain. "But Jim, I'd be willing to bet he's got a grudge against you. I think the two of you should come back to Cascade right now!"

Jim was uncertain. "I don't know Simon. Don't you think it would be harder for him to find us here, than in Cascade? I mean, he knows to look for us there, he even knows where we live!" Zeller had tracked down Amber at the loft, when Jim and Blair had been protecting her. Jim had no doubt that would be the first place The Ice Man would go looking for them.

Simon was persistent. "No Jim, I really think the two of you should get into a safehouse! We've already tried to call Amber, and the Dean says she's studying in Europe for three months."

Jim heard the rustling of papers, before Simon continued, "Another thing, Jim. We have evidence now that Zeller doesn't always work alone, as we thought before. It seems he has his own little gang of groupies helping him with his operations!"

"Well, Simon, if you really think....." Suddenly Jim broke off, as the odd events of that day began to quickly and frighteningly add up. Sandburg's encounter with the intruder, the mysterious disappearance of the hotel staff....

*Oh, God...Blair!* Jim's heart began to race as he remembered the sinister-looking chap working at the desk downstairs.

"Jim?...JIM!?" Simon's anxious voice was coming through the phone, laced with concern. "Jim, what's going on?"

"Captain, I think it may be too late, he may have found us already! I've gotta go after Sandburg!" Jim had his gun in his hand now, as he quickly told his captain about the incidents.

The captain whistled, and Jim heard a muffled curse, before Simon continued, "OK, I want you to get Sandburg and go straight to the police station. It's probably the safest place to be, until we can get there!" Jim could hear Simon dialing the extra phone in his office, probably calling the feds. "I just want the two of you to lay low, understood? Don't try to do anything!"

Jim agreed, and hung up the phone as he cocked his weapon. He looked around, trying to decide the best way to sneak out of the hotel without the guy at the front desk seeing him. He had to get to his partner before Zeller did! Jim went to the window and looked out, relieved to see the fire escape. He went and re-locked the door, then carefully climbed out onto the metal fire escape, and began to make his way down.

Jim jumped from the bottom of the escape, landing easily on his feet, and headed in the direction of the library. He was keeping his senses wide open, watchful for Zeller or his henchmen, as he hurried down the street. He was praying to every deity he could think of that Zeller had tried to come after him first, and not Sandburg. Hopefully his young friend would be relatively safe in a public place like a library.

Jim glanced at his watch. 7:45. He quickened his pace, The library closed at eight, and then his partner would be out on the street, and an easy target. He was a comforted a little by the fact that Blair knew some self defense moves now, but....

Jim stopped dead in his tracks. He smelled something...familiar. He turned slowly, trying to track the elusive aroma, then started back the way he had come as it grew stronger. Mint, with a faint chemical tinge to it. It was Zeller's nicotine gum! Jim quickened his pace, following the scent. It was same scent he'd used to track down Zeller at the airport, when he'd abducted Amber.

Jim stopped at the door of a cafe. The scent was stronger inside. He stepped inside, still following his nose, and walked through the nearly deserted cafe to the back. He followed the smell of the gum around a corner, pulling out his gun. He was close!

He came up to a door, and paused, listening. He couldn't hear anything inside, but the mint smell was definitely coming from behind the door. Jim raised his gun, and quickly shoved the door open, stepping back as he did.

The room was a small storage closet, mostly empty, with one tiny window up high on the rear wall. The smell of the nicotine gum was stronger than ever. Puzzled, Jim stepped inside, gun still raised, trying to pinpoint the source of the smell. A tiny box on the floor caught his eye, and he knelt to pick it up. The smell was coming from the box. *What the hell...?*

Jim opened the box carefully, listening for any sort of sound that would indicate a bomb. The box opened without incident, and Jim reached in and pulled out two objects. One was a piece of the nicotine gum, still in its wrapper. The other was a folded piece of paper. Jim opened it and read the writing on it.

SWEET DREAMS, DETECTIVE.

The door to the closet was slammed shut, and bolted from the outside. Jim lunged to his feet and drew back, intending to kick the door down, when something crashed through the tiny window behind him. He ducked instinctively as something shattered on the floor, then felt his head begin to swim as a sweet, chemical odor reached his nostrils. He looked down at the spinning floor and saw the shattered remains of a small glass bottle, surrounded by a puddle of....

*Chloroform...* Jim thought, as the room went dark and he collapsed to the floor.

* * * * * * *

Blair Sandburg barged through the hotel's front doors, still fuming. He'd found all the information he was looking for, and had tried to enter his notes into his laptop, only to discover that it was not in his backpack! He had taken everything out of the pack, twice, searching in vain for his precious computer. No sign of it.

He had left the library, cussing at himself. He was sure he'd packed it last night! Why would he forget it, when he knew he was going to be doing so much research on the trip? The only thing he could figure, as he neared the hotel, was that he'd somehow left it in the hotel room.

*Sandburg, if you had half a brain, it would be lonely!* he thought angrily to himself.

Blair crossed the hotel lobby to the elevator, digging out his room key. He glanced around the lobby in surprise. There wasn't a staff member in sight! No one behind the desk, even the doorman was not in his usual position at the door. There was a small line of patrons waiting at the front desk for assistance. Blair shrugged, too concerned about his computer to give it much thought, and stepped into the elevator.

Blair unlocked the door to the hotel room as quietly as he could, in case Jim was asleep. He hovered in the tiny alcove just inside the door, letting his eyes adjust a little. The room was pitch dark. He still couldn't figure out where the doorman or front desk person had disappeared to. Bathroom break? Into the bar for a beer? Strange.

Blair chuckled softly, as he took off his backpack. He hoped the two employees wouldn't lose their jobs, just because they had to run to the john!

He came further into the room and tossed his notes and backpack onto the bed. Then he reached back, closed the door, and began to feel his way around the room. He wanted to keep the lights off as long as possible to avoid disturbing Jim; his partner could be extremely unpleasant when woken from a sound sleep.

Blair turned, and accidentally slammed his knee into the table beside the bed, cussing softly. Deciding that the thud and his expletive would wake Jim anyway, Sandburg fumbled for the light switch, connected, and flipped it on.

Nothing happened, the room was still in darkness. A power failure? No, the lights from the hallway were still seeping under the door. Blair flipped the switch up and down a few more times...then froze at the realization. No one watching the door, lights not working...!

Sandburg whirled and ran to the door, grabbing the knob. He had the door halfway open when strong arms grabbed him from behind and yanked him back into the darkness. He tried to cry out, but a huge hand clamped a soft cloth over his mouth and nose as the door was slammed shut.

*Chloroform!* Blair instantly sealed his airways shut, refusing to breathe. He pulled at the massive arm that was coiled around his waist, and kicked his legs against the wall in front of him, trying to throw his attacker off balance. But the moves he'd learned in the seminar couldn't help him; it was too cramped in the alcove to get away!

Blair kicked and struggled as he was lifted clear off the ground, still holding his breath. Then the world spun, there was a rush of air, and his head was slammed into the wall with terrible force. A white flash behind his eyes and an intense pain on the left side of his face were the last things Blair remembered as unconsciousness claimed him.

* * * * * * *

Jim awoke with an intense headache, and found himself laying on something soft. He carefully looked around, trying to remember what had happened, taking in his surroundings. He was in a beautifully decorated room, all done in rich, deep reds, plums and golds. A small crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling right above him, and as he sat up, he saw a grand fireplace in the left wall. He was laying on a chaise lounge.

He looked across the room, which was still spinning slightly, and saw a gigantic mahogany door in the far wall. He tried to get to his feet, planning to see if it was locked, but he was too dizzy. What the hell had happened?

It began to come back to him as he continued to inspect the room. He'd been tracking Zeller, by following the scent of his gum...when.... *Oh, Jim.... How could you be so STUPID!*

A quick search told him what he already suspected; he still had his wallet and shield, but his gun was gone, as well as his cell phone. He laid back on the chaise lounge with a sigh, disgusted with himself.

Suddenly, he heard a sound, and bolted up just in time to see Zeller stepping through the door. Jim got shakily to his feet, intending to rush at him, but quickly aborted the idea as Zeller was followed into the room by three men, two of whom were training guns on the detective.

"The Ice Man" smiled at him as he crossed to lean on the mantle over the fireplace. "How are you feeling, Detective?"

The two goons with guns came over to stand behind Jim, keeping their weapons trained on him. Jim recognized one of them as the sinister, black-haired guy from the hotel. The blond one he'd never seen before. Jim glanced briefly at them, then turned his attention to Zeller.

"Where am I?" He didn't really expect Zeller to tell him, but he had to start somewhere.

"You're in one of my little hideaways," replied Zeller. He gestured around the lush parlor as he continued. "You see, even though you think I am nothing but a bloodthirsty murderer and a sadist, I do have good taste."

As if on cue, the two thugs behind Jim burst into laughter. For the first time, Jim glanced at the third henchman, who hadn't laughed, and felt his breath catch in his throat.

He was repulsive!

Jim stared, without meaning to. The man lurking near the door was a living nightmare. He stood about seven feet tall, and would weigh in at no less than 300 pounds. But the most noticeable thing about him was his face...if you could call it a face. Jim suddenly realized that he had to be looking at the "homeless dude" who had broken into the vehicle this morning. He shivered.

*No wonder Blair was so shaken up!* he thought.

The thought of his partner filled Jim with sudden dread. Where was Blair? Had Zeller and his men already done away with him? The thought filled Jim with a sense of helpless anger. He was supposed to get Blair, and escort the two of them to safety. Instead he'd gone off on a foolish crusade to track down Zeller, and had walked right into a trap. Now God only knew what would happen to his partner.

But maybe Klaus only wanted Jim. After all, the detective reasoned, he hadn't seen any sign of the young anthropologist. He hoped this grudge of Zeller's would be limited to the man who put him in jail, and not include his friend.

Zeller was speaking again, pulling Jim out of his ponderings. "You know, detective. I had lots of time to think while I was languishing in that prison cell you sent me to." Zeller folded his hands behind his back and began to walk slowly around the room.

"I couldn't figure out how you managed to track me down at the airport. It defied all explanation, and greatly impressed me, I must admit." He reached into his pocket, produced a piece of his nicotine gum, and folded it into his mouth.

Jim didn't say a word. He had a feeling as to where Klaus was headed with this little story, and he didn't like it.

If Zeller noticed Jim's unease, he didn't reveal it. He continued his little promenade around the room, as he spoke. "So I had my men do a little checking up on you and your partner, who by the way, is a brilliant writer." Zeller walked over to the giant at the door, and took something from his huge hands. Jim started slightly when Zeller turned back to him, holding Blair's laptop in his hands.

"Lucas here was kind enough to borrow Mr. Sandburg's computer," Zeller continued, approaching Jim. "The notes for his thesis provided some very interesting reading!" A wicked gleam had appeared in the killer's eyes, as he watched for a reaction from Ellison.

Jim gazed calmly at Klaus Zeller, showing no emotion.

Zeller continued, "You see, detective. I know more about you than you realize." He stopped, as if trying to find the right words, smiling a bit. Then he strode right up to Jim and hissed in his ear, "I know what you are...Sentinel!"

Jim inadvertently snapped his head around to stare at Zeller, who simply smiled that annoying satisfied smile of his and turned to cross the floor again.

"I know, Mr. Sandburg never mentions you by name in his files, but it was not difficult to figure out who this mysterious 'subject' was; you're the only he spends enough time with to be a reasonable candidate!'" Zeller handed the computer back to the beast by the door, who tucked it into his jacket.

Zeller turned to face Jim once again. "So tell me, Detective Ellison.... What is it like to see before others see, and sense what others can't?" Zeller's grin widened at the look of growing anger on Ellison's rugged face.

"All right, Zeller, what do you want?" Jim all but spat the words out at the other man, who had taken something from his pocket, and was now thoughtfully holding a small vial of pinkish-colored liquid in his hand.

"What do I want?" Klaus looked absently at the rosy liquid in the vial, tipping it this way and that, watching the bubbles floating about. "I want what I have coming to me." He abruptly stopped the motion of the vial to glare at Jim with icy eyes. "I want what you *owe* me."

Jim laughed. He couldn't help it, Zeller just seemed to take himself way too seriously. "OK, I'll bite," he chuckled, spreading his hands wide. "What do I owe you?"

Klaus Zeller had produced a syringe now, and was loading it with the fluid in the vial. "You remember the airport, of course?" He jerked the needle out of the vial sharply, and stalked toward Jim again, his voice low and deadly.

"That money was mine! I killed for it!" His eyes glazed over a little as he studied the syringe in his hand, while continuing to speak to Jim. "Do you have any idea what losing that amount of money can do to a person? How it can change a person's life?"

"Well, yeah. For one thing it put you in jail." Jim folded his arms across his chest, waiting to see Zeller's reaction to the taunt.

Zeller just smiled. "Do you have any idea what this is?" He held up the syringe.

"No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me," Jim muttered, his jaw clenching. He was getting tired of this! Klaus came to stand a few inches from Ellison. Close enough to grab, if it weren't for the two goons standing at Jim's shoulder with guns.