Title: Hard Time
By Suisan "Sue" R
October 2000
Category: Story/Drama/Action
Rating: PG-17, for "adult" language and some situations, which may cause certain stomachs to churn.
Warning: Original Characters, both male and female, appear throughout this story, one of which will make appearances in later, yet to be written stories. If OC's are not your cup of tea, avoid this story. If you don't like the idea of seeing what COULD go down inside a detention facility/prison -- avoid this story. However, if you like OC's, watch "OZ" and like it… Please read this story. G
Synopsis: What should have been a simple "jail house" interview with a possible informant goes horribly wrong. Does Detective Blair Sandburg have what it takes to handle the situation?
Hard Time
Cascade City/County Detention Center
Control Room/Command Central
09:21 hours
"Sandburg! What the hell happened here?!?" Captain Simon Banks stormed into the room, his voice announcing his presence to all that were gathered there.
Simon flinched as Detective Blair Sandburg's head snapped around searching for the owner of the voice, his hand drifting toward his holster and closing on air. Recognition flickered over the young man's face, and Simon breathed a sigh of relief when Sandburg's hand moved away from the empty holster on his hip.
"Captain. It's not good, Sir. We still don't have everything squared away, but the staff here says they have one cellblock no longer under their control and several officers are unaccounted for."
Banks knew what the kid wasn't saying. There was a good chance that the missing officers were being held hostage. Simon chewed on his unlit cigar as he looked around the command center of the Cascade County City Detention Center. Several of the facility's staff were either climbing into riot gear, monitoring camera relays, or looking for something to do. And more were pouring in the front doors every minute. It took him a little bit to realize it, but someone was missing...
"Sandburg, where is your partner?"
The young man didn't answer, just shook his head and quietly pointed to the main viewing monitor, which had just switched over to show the uncontrolled cellblock. Simon followed that haunted blue gaze, and felt the chunk of icy dread grow from a small cube to an iceberg in his stomach.
The inmates of the cellblock had somehow managed to overpower the guards, corralling them into the center of the 'day' area. Four guards were in uniform. However, it was the fifth man, in plain clothes, which drew his attention. Kneeling on the floor, hands behind his head, Detective Lieutenant James Ellison looked like he wanted to rip someone apart.
Pulling the youngest member of his command to his side, Simon quietly questioned him. "Blair? How in the hell did this happen? It was supposed to be a routine visit. How did Jim end up in there, in the middle of this? Did he zone out or something?"
"I don't know, Simon. We had just finished up the interview with Kilarney and for some reason, Jim decided to accompany him back to the cellblock. I came in here to wait for him and, well, it all broke loose." Blair shook his head, his eyes glued to the screen that showed his partner. "Too fast. It went down too fast, I couldn't get to him in time..."
The despair in Sandburg's voice caused the normally hard, tough as nails Captain to reach out a supportive hand to his man. "Sandburg... Blair, there was nothing you could've done to prevent this. It was just bad timing." Pulling the smaller man close, Simon dropped his own voice down to a mere whisper. "Besides, I'm willing to bet that Jim's just glad that you weren't with him. You get into enough scrapes as it is."
Commander Rick Johansen stepped into the command center, having been called from a meeting with the Commissioner, just in time to see his old beat partner give the smaller man with him a reassuring clasp on the shoulder. 'Simon Banks giving comfort? Never thought I'd live to see this day.' Rick shook his head as he recalled seeing the younger man arrive with Detective Ellison earlier to interview an inmate over some information he reportedly had for them.
Knowing the situation had to be bad, he needed to gather more information on it before making any decision. Bypassing the men and women that were suiting up in the Center's riot gear, Rick walked up behind his best monitor technician. "Stacie, what have you got for me?" Stacie Harrington turned away from the monitors and looked up him.
"Not much yet, sir. I just pulled the tapes and started going over them." She must have seen something in his eyes, for her next words were clearly meant to reassure him. "I'll find out what happened, you can bet your paycheck on it, sir."
Clasping the brunette on the shoulder, Rick nodded. "I trust you, Stacie." Taking his first good look at the monitor, he asked, "Who are the men in there with the inmates?"
She returned her attention to the large, central monitor and pointed out the men as she named them for her commander. "Harris, Blevins, Cartwright and Deans from our staff. Detective Ellison from Major Crimes." Glancing over her shoulder towards the only non-staff members in the room, she continued. "Sergeant Camryne called Captain Banks as soon as I had ID'd Ellison."
"I'm glad that he did. Do your best, Stacie." With a final encouraging smile, he left the technician to her work and approached his old patrol partner. "Simon? Sorry that this happened and that your man got caught up in it somehow."
Simon curtly nodded. "Nothing we could've done to prevent it, Rick. What's your operational stance on something like this?"
Sparing a glance for the young man whose partner was in the middle of the situation, he said, "We cannot negotiate. I'm sorry, Simon. The men in that particular cellblock are some of the worst this city has to offer. I cannot allow even the slightest chance that they might escape."
A chill encompassed Blair's heart and turned to solid steel bands, sending a vicious shiver down his spine. "Commander? What are you saying? You're going to leave my partner in there? That Jim's as good as dead?" He silently pleaded with the Jail Commander to retract his previous statement.
An almost electrical current ran through Blair as the commander's brown eyes met his. "No. I'm not saying that, Detective. We'll do our best to get your partner, and my men, out of there in one piece." Rick Johansen looked up as one of his men cleared his throat. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I have a group to brief and get ready."
Blair found an empty chair near the control panels and monitor screens and collapsed into it. His eyes locked once again on the image of his friend, kneeling on the hard floor of Cellblock 4. The thoughts in his mind had slowed to a crawl and he heard his inner voice whisper, 'Whatever it takes, I'll get you out of this. Whatever it takes.'
He watched Stacie Harrington as she again rewound the tape she was going over and noticed that she sent a concerned glance his way. His fists were tightly clenched where they rested on the control panel, and he had the feeling that his body language one of near despair. His attention was riveted on the screens in front of him when he felt a gentle squeeze on his hand. He looked up at her, meeting her hazel gaze and wondering what she was trying to do. Her voice was soft as she tried to reassure him. "We'll get him out, you just have to trust us."
Not trusting his voice at the moment, Blair could only nod in gratitude. He knew his smile was weak as he watched her let go of his hands and return to studying the tape of the events that had led up to his Sentinel being where he was. Locking his gaze once again on Jim's image, he willed the man to hear his mental voice. 'Be careful, man. Don't piss them off any more than you have to.'
Cascade City/County Detention Center
Jail Hallway
09:02 hours
Detective James Ellison shook his head as he walked down the long hallway with Jason Kilarney and their escort, Guard David Jacen. "Jason, you know that I have to have more than that for me to even begin to think about approaching the PA on your behalf."
The middle-aged man in the bright orange jumpsuit walked alongside Jim and just two steps ahead of the guard. "Oh, come on, Ellison! I've played you straight! You'll see! My info is pure!" Jim allowed the doubt he felt show in his face and Kilarney sighed in defeat, then shrugged. "Look, Detective, all I'm asking for is some consideration when I go before the judge next week at my sentencing."
Stopping at the door of the cellblock that Kilarney now called home, Jim nodded. "We'll see. If your information pans out, I'll see what I can do. Now, let's go grab that letter for your attorney so that I can get out of here and see just how accurate you've been." He motioned for the guard to open the sturdy steel door that was clearly marked with a bright white, and rather large, number 4.
Watching as the guard pulled an electronic key card from his shirt pocket, sliding it through the card reader, Jim tried not to flinch at the noise of the solenoid lock disengaging. Jacen pushed open the door and gestured to Jim as he advised, "Straight ahead to the next gate, Detective. I've already radioed to Harris that you're coming in with Kilarney here." Ellison nodded his thanks and let Kilarney precede him into the secure area.
Jim knew it was unusual for anyone, much less a detective of his reputation, to actually set foot inside the cellblocks of the Detention Center, but it apparently happened often enough that it didn't raise too many security concerns. Passing the guard, just a few steps behind Kilarney, Jim waited until David had pulled the door shut and he heard the lock re-engage before following the orange suited inmate deeper into the facility.
The guard at the next gate smiled in greeting as Jim and Kilarney approached while looking down to punch the release code into a keypad embedded in his desk. "Jason, your roomie is throwing a fit -- something about a photo he's missing?"
Kilarney let out a small groan. "Oh, man! That ass! How many times do I have to tell that Neanderthal that he mailed it out?"
This guard, who must be the "Harris" that Jacen had mentioned, let out a chuckle as he did a perfunctory pat down of the inmate. "Probably a few more times before he gets it through that thick skull of his. You're clear. Go on back."
Jim watched the by-play between the guard and his informant with amusement. He had never had the opportunity to work in the detention facility, but he figured that in spite of the rules and regulations to the contrary, some relationships had to develop between the guards and inmates. As he walked past Harris' post, he noted another inmate readying a mop bucket for cleaning detail and realized that he'd have to dial his senses back. The cellblock was, for the most part, spotless, but the smells of so many bodies cramped together, along with the strong odor of disinfectant in a space with very little ventilation, was already threatening to over power his sensitive nose.
Jim followed Jason Kilarney to his cell, and stepped inside as the inmate walked over to his rack where a letter was lying on the neatly made bed. The informant picked up the legal sized envelope and turned to hand it over, just as a shock wave of sound drove Jim and the inmate to their knees. 'An explosion? What the hell?' Years of Army training helped Jim identify the noise, just as his eyes started to water profusely and his sinuses started to burn.
Richard "Rikky" Martinez had seen the tall detective walk into the cellblock with Kilarney and recognized the man for who he was. A feral grin crossed his face as he 'accidentally' mixed his mop water with two fluids that should never be mixed -- ammonia and bleach with very little water. Pushing the bucket towards the door to the cellblock's office, he pulled his shirt up over his mouth and nose as a cloud of fumes roiled upwards. Ducking back into the supply closet, he grabbed up the bottle of kerosene that his buddies had managed to sneak in past security, and pulled a lighter out of his pocket. Then, lighting the wick, he tossed the 'cocktail' into the center of the day area.
Within moments, his cohorts had overpowered the three guards on duty inside the cellblock while he took care of Harris as the guard stumbled out of the office, eyes tearing. Handing off the disabled guard to one of his men, Rikky stepped towards the cell that Kilarney called home. Inside he found his fellow inmate and Detective Ellison, stumbling to their feet, trying to recover from the fireball, their eyes streaming tears due to the fumes from the potentially lethal mix of ammonia and bleach.
"On your feet, Pig." The voice penetrated the ringing in Jim's ears, just as someone hauled him to his feet, then pushed him out of the cell. Jim's sinuses were on fire and his eyes were tearing so badly that he didn't see the low bench in front of him until he fell over it. His martial arts training, both in the Army and with the police force, enabled him to take the fall without too much pain and he managed to roll back up onto his feet.
"Hey! Rik! Who have you got there?" His hearing was acting up, the words echoed strangely in his head.
"Oh, man! It's Ellison! We're outta here!"
Now Jim knew he was in trouble. That last line sounded like it had been spoken under water.
Jason Kilarney staggered after Martinez and Ellison, wondering what the hell was up, and the shouts of the other inmates sickened him. He shook his head as he quietly spoke up, "No, he's signed our death warrants."
With a savage kick to the back of Ellison's knee, Martinez dropped the Detective back to the floor. "Hands behind your head, and cross your ankles. You know the routine, don't you, Pig?" Jason shivered as he took in the unholy smile gracing the Latino's face.
Jason watched as Detective Ellison merely nodded, his jaw muscles twitching and visibly turning to hard granite as he complied with the inmate's order. The four guards on the floor near Ellison looked to be in pretty much the same mood as the Detective. And it was painfully obvious to him that they suffering from the effects of the chemical cloud still lingering near the ceiling, just as he and the inmates not involved in this, what ever this was, were suffering. Glancing up through tear-laden eyes, Jason noticed the fog like cloud was hardly moving. Someone in the facility's main control room must have turned off the ventilation system, thus limiting the fumes to the cellblock and not allowing them to escape into the rest of the jail.
Jason flinched as Rikky walked up to him, but otherwise held his ground. He'd been in Cellblock #4 for just over three months now, whereas Rikky had only been there a week. But, unlike the others in the block, he knew the real reason that Rikky Martinez was in jail, knowledge that he'd gained while working as a trustee in the booking area, knowledge that made him sick. He just didn't think it was time to reveal that information to the other inmates, not yet.
"What did you say, Kilarney?" Rikky was trying to intimidate him. He was attempting to make his voice and tone as threatening as possible, and Jason had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the implied threat.
Looking into his dark eyes, Jason kept his voice nice and even as he replied, "You heard me, Rik. I don't know what game you're playing here, or what you hope to gain, but you're likely to get all of us seriously hurt. Maybe even killed."
"Bullshit! Sure, if we only had the four guards here, I could see that. But we've got ourselves one of Cascade's finest! Mr. Police Officer of the Fucking Year!"
"That won't matter to anyone, Rik," a new voice growled, and the Latino turned to face the speaker. Ellison.
Jim held tight rein on his temper, taking only shallow breaths in an effort to negate the effects of the toxic fumes on his lungs. The pain from his knee, the one that the Latino had kicked out from under him, was excruciating and the damn dials weren't much help. He'd barely managed to keep track of the conversations going on around him and when he heard the inmate who had kicked him make the statement about having 'one of Cascade's finest'; Jim lost control of his tongue. "That won't matter to anyone, Rik." Good thing he'd heard Jason Kilarney call the inmate by name. It got the man's attention.
Martinez spun and Jim couldn't move fast enough to avoid getting knocked across the mouth with a wild fist, sending him to the floor. The Hispanic inmate loomed over him, hands clenched in rage as he snarled, "And what makes you so damn sure about that, Pig?"
One of the guards, Harris, was helping Jim back to his knees as he took the time to answer the inmate's question for Jim. "He's right, Rikky. It's policy. The Commander won't go against policy for anyone. Not the Chief of Police, not even the Mayor herself."
"Fuck you, Harris! You're full of shit! You don't know what you're saying!" In his rage, Rikky swung on the officer.
Not thinking, Jim brought his own hand up to block the blow, capturing the fist and nearly crushing it as he spoke quietly. "What if he does?"
Their gazes locked and Jim could actually 'feel' the rage pouring from Martinez through the connection of their hands. Then the inmate was leaning over Jim, his voice full of hate. "Are you ready to die, Ellison? 'Cause I promise you, that is what will happen if I don't get what I want."
Knowing that he wasn't in any shape to take on the inmate or any of his cohorts, Jim let go of the fist and shook his head. "No, I'm not ready to die, but if it keeps scum like you off the streets of my city..."
He allowed the unfinished sentence to hang in the still air. There were twenty men assigned to Cellblock 4. Apparently only five of them were behind the insane plan, yet Jim could sense what they all knew. All would pay the price if Rikky lost control of the situation, or his temper, and actually killed one of the officers. He watched as the majority of inmates slowly made their way back to their cells, pulling the doors secure, effectively locking themselves down. Only Kilarney remained in the open bay area, but even he separated himself from the hostile group, taking a seat against the wall near his cell.
To Jim the message was clear enough: we're not involved -- we won't help, but we won't interfere either. He had to school his expression not to show his satisfaction at the actions of the inmates. He and the guards were in trouble, that was clear enough, but at least it wasn't against an entire cellblock population. Just six men, but he was hurt and so were the guards. Glancing towards the main door of the cellblock, Jim allowed himself to think about Blair. 'Thank God Sandburg decided to stay up in the control room.'