This is my first attempt at a Flashpoint story set sometime in Season 2 (only because that is how far I have got with my boxed set). Donna is still with team awaiting Jules' return. It is a team action drama story with an iffy plot, a little h/c and hopefully a little humour; it has a definite bias towards Sam, Spike, Ed and Greg. (I have to confess to favouring the boys especially Sam! The girls only play minor roles! Jam if you squint.).

Disclaimer : please see profile. All locations, persons and organisations mentioned in this story are entirely fictitious and are made up for the purposes of this story. No relation to persons living or dead etc. etc. You get the idea.

Prologue

Spike and Wordy exchanged worried glances as they headed to the gym. Ed looked up, hiding a smile as they entered. Spike gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "What's got into the Sarge?" he asked as Greg's angry voice echoed through the building.

Ed allowed the corners of his mouth to curl up. "Veronica Pelham." Spike and Wordy faces showed enlightenment.

"Who's Veronica Pelham?" asked Donna as she entered heading straight towards the stepper.

"News reporter for Channel 24."

Donna froze, her face clouding over as she looked at the three men for confirmation. "That idiot of a woman who reported our positions on live television during the bank heist?" They all nodded. "I hope he gives her hell," she spat as she threw down a towel and a bottle of water. She stabbed at the stepper's screen with her finger. "Stupid bitch," she muttered under her breath. "Should have shot her!" The men all grinned. Their sentiments exactly.

Spike and Wordy headed for the weights as Lou joined them. He tipped his head in the direction of Greg's office and cast them a quizzical look.

"Veronica Pelham," they all said in unison.

Lou grimaced. "Should have shot her," he muttered making the others snigger. He was about to get on the bike when the Sarge entered looking like thunder. Lou decided against it and quickly diverted to the rowing machine. Greg threw his stuff down in a huff and mounted the bike and began pedalling giving them all the impression that he intended to beat the long-suffering machine into submission. The team wisely chose to remain silent. Lou clicked on the TV but refrained from turning up the sound.

Ed pumped the weights for a few minutes before glancing at the clock. He frowned. "Anyone seen Sam?"

Greg looked up. "Oh meant to tell you, he's going to be late." Ed arched an eyebrow questioningly. "He's on the … er … M.U.I."

Spike, Lou and Wordy immediately stopped what they were doing and slowly turned around to stare in utter amazement. Ed's face broke into a grin. "Oh, you're kidding?" Greg smirked. "You got Sam to go?" he asked incredulous. Greg's smirk got a little broader. Ed's eyes opened wide. "I can't believe you convinced him to do it."

Without stopping pedalling Greg jiggled his head from side to side. "Hey! The other teams were complaining that they'd done it for the past four years so it was our turn to send somebody and I'm guessing none of you wanted to volunteer ..." The four men looked like they'd rather eat dirt. Greg nodded and continued, "... so I had a little heart to heart with Sam. What can I say? I'm a good negotiator!"

Donna was listening carefully to the conversation. Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Er … what's an M.U.I?" The men all fell about laughing like a bunch of schoolboys.

Spike eventually put her out of her misery. He wiped the tears from his eyes. "It means Mission of the Utmost Importance ..." he spluttered as they all burst out laughing again.

Donna rolled her eyes as it was clear she wasn't going to get a coherent answer out of them. "Men!"

.

The work-out finished, Donna stalked out of the gym non the wiser as they had all flatly refused to tell her what on earth they were going on about. All she had to do was wait a couple of weeks and they would reveal all, they had promised as they continued to snigger and smirk. She paused with her hand on the door to the women's locker room as she contemplated asking Kira but decided it would have to wait as the others followed Greg out of the gym. They all froze as Sam came stalking down the corridor. Donna's jaw dropped. Rather than his usual cheeky grin his features were drawn into a scowl. Three distinct scratches stood out vivid red against his white cheek. He held his coat in one hand, the left sleeve of his shirt was bloody and looked like it had been shredded. His whole appearance was dishevelled. In fact, he looked like he been dragged through a hedge backwards.

Clearly his appearance surprised the others too as they all ground to a halt and stared in shock at the young blonde. Greg was the first to recover his voice. "Sam? What happened? Are you okay..." The words died on his lips as the young man faced them down.

He held up a finger, his eyes flashing danger. "Not … one … word," he hissed as he breezed past them into the men's changing room.

For a moment there was complete silence. Team One looked at the door of the men's room and then all turned to face Greg. He shrugged, his face a picture of utter confusion. "Don't look at me. I have no idea!"

Wordy frowned. "Were those leaves in his hair?"

"Maybe they were fig-leaves," Ed dead-panned as they all fell about laughing once more.

Donna rolled her eyes. Men!

An alarm sounded through the building. "Hot Call. Team One."

.

The two SUVs and the command vehicle accelerated down the street heading towards the waterfront. Kira's voice fed them information through their headsets. "Initial reports suggest that a group of armed men have taken over the harbour management authority's administration building. They ordered personnel from the first and second floors to leave and have taken hostages on the fourth floor."

"What about the third floor?" asked Ed.

"It's currently unoccupied as it's being renovated."

"Do we know how many gunmen or hostages?"

"That's a negative." They could hear the apology in her voice. "Initial reports are still coming in. People were panicked. They just headed for the doors. We are still trying to piece events together."

"This could have something to do with the recent protests," suggested Wordy.

Riding shotgun with the Sarge, Sam could see him nod. "That's certainly possible. Kira you said multiple gunmen?"

"Yes, they think at least four. Central says you should liaise with Inspector Becker when you arrive. There is a sizeable protest group at the entrance to the port lands. Uniforms are on site but expect some trouble."

Greg nodded. "Copy that. ETA five minutes."

The city now behind them, the cars sped down the rough tarmac road surrounded on either side by short scrubby grass. To their left, the water was being whipped up by a cold northerly wind sending foaming white ridges to crash relentlessly against the breakwater. They approached a sign that indicated they were entering the port lands. Two groups of cold looking protesters hunched in heavy coats stood sullenly on either side of the road waving banners with demands for justice and a stop to lay-offs. A dozen or more uniformed officers made sure they could cause no trouble. The cars crawled past without incident leaving a sea of heads to follow their progress.

"Okay, that's the building coming up on our left," Greg said as Sam peered out of the wind-shield. Set on a promontory, the four storey plain concrete building looked like it had been built in the seventies. It was a featureless grey cube that sat forlornly in a flat, featureless landscape. It was fronted by a large, open expanse of concrete that was partly car-parking and partly redundant space. A metal chain-link fence protected unauthorized personnel from entering the end of the promontory. A series of low-slung Portakabins sat parallel to the water's edge on the right opposite the building. Several squad cars were parked in a semi-circle near the closest of the cabins. Sam could see the yachts and motorboats in the marina bobbing up and down in their slips in the distance. The only other edifice of any note was an old rusted crane that had once served to load and unload cargo from the vessels in the days when the harbour had been a bustling cargo port. Today it had been fenced off and painted a deep grey. It was hung with a red and white banner that stated boldly: 'Harbour Management Authority. Working for You.'

Greg glanced at Sam. "You sure, you're okay Sam?"

"Fine," Sam answered curtly, a deep blush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as he tugged at his sleeve that covered his hastily bandaged arm. Greg would have liked to ask him how he got the multitude of tiny scratches but they were approaching their destination.

As they rolled in through the gate, a stocky man in a long beige raincoat stood up from behind the squad cars and waved urgently to them encouraging them to complete the circle of cars. Sam felt like they were some kind of wagon-train forming a defensive circle. As soon as they pulled to a stop they all hopped out. The man in the beige raincoat headed straight for them. "Parker!" He greeted the Sarge clearly recognizing him.

"Becker, what have we got?"

Becker, a stout man in his early forties with deep-set eyes and a hooked nose rubbed at his bristly chin as though still trying to get his head around what had just happened. "According to witnesses, just over forty minutes ago, a number of armed men ... could be four or five … entered the building via the main entrance." He pointed to a set of featureless glass doors in the centre of the building. "They cleared everyone from the first and second floors. Then they went straight up to the fourth floor and barricaded the doors. One of the witnesses said that at least two of the men were carrying large hold-alls. Looked heavy. They were all wearing hats and hoodies. They didn't say anything to anybody other than to get out."

"Where are the witnesses now?"

Becker pointed to one of the Portakabins. "It's a temporary office while the building is being renovated. I've got them all in there with two uni's. We've got the perimeter secure. I've got men with the protesters and EMS are on stand-by." Greg turned to Wordy and Lou indicating they should go help verify statements. Both men nodded and trotted off.

"Do we know how many hostages?" Becker shook his head. Greg sighed. "Okay we need eyes and ears."

Ed scanned the building and grimaced. "No way we can get close enough without them seeing us."

Sam pointed to the old crane. "That should give us enough elevation to get eyes on the fourth floor." Greg looked up at the old structure and turned to the young man. He bit his lip hesitating for a moment considering the distances but then nodded. Sam would be a better choice over the longer distance.

"Okay, Sam. You're Sierra one." He rubbed his cold hands as Sam headed to the back of the truck to pull out his gear. "Ed, Donna, you're with me. Becker, those protesters at the gate, can you get your men to question them. See if any of them are aware of what's going on? I'd like to know if the two are linked." Becker nodded and hurried to his car. Greg headed to the command truck with Ed and Donna in tow. All three were glad to be inside. The grey skies and lack of sun had already lowered the temperature and the sharp northerly wind made it feel ten degrees colder. Greg knew that Sam had had cold weather training in the special forces but he felt a twinge of regret for leaving the poor kid out in the cold even if Sam had volunteered.

Spike looked up from the computer as they entered. "Okay, I've got the floor plans of the building and an office directory. There are twelve allocated office spaces on that floor and a large conference room. It's right above the main entrance. And before you ask, no there are no surveillance cameras other than one that monitors the front door. Live feed only."

"Great! So we've no images of our guys?" Spike shook his head. Ed grimaced.

"Boss?" Wordy ushered in a young woman in a smart blue suit. "This is Melanie Adams. She's in charge of reception." He smiled encouragingly at her. "Tell them what you told me." The young fair-haired woman smiled nervously, tucking a long strand of blond hair behind her ear.

"The board of directors have their weekly meeting this afternoon so the President and CEO, and his three executive staff are not in the building. The only people on the fourth floor are Jean Watson who's in charge of Communications and Public affairs, William Greaves who's Head of HR, Ben Hopkins who's General Manager for the Marina, Sandy Graham who's General Manager of the Marine Terminals, and James Mills who's the Assistant Financial Director." As she spoke Spike marked off the names on the list he had printed.

Greg nodded. "So only five people? You're sure?"

Melanie nodded. "They have to badge in so I know who's in the building. All the others are accounted for. I made sure." Greg smiled at her. Clearly she took her job seriously.

"That's great Melanie. Did you see the men who entered?"

Melanie nodded, her hand going once more for the errant strand of hair. "There were … five of them ..." she stammered.

"Five? You're sure?"

She nodded again. "There was the leader, the one who shouted at everyone to get out. Then the two who waved their guns around, getting everyone to leave and then the two with the bags who headed straight for the stairs."

"Can you describe them?"

Melanie hesitated and fiddled with the strand of hair. "Er … no! Not really! It happened so quickly. They were all wearing dark clothing. They had hats and sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up … and they wore those plastic glasses. Er, you know like when you do home improvements?"

Ed dug a hand into a pocket and pulled out a pair of eye protectors with a sturdy grey frame. "Like these?"

Melanie smiled a little. "Yes … but that's all I can tell you. I'm sorry. It all happened so quickly. They just rushed in brandishing their guns and shouted at everyone to get out. We just ran for the doors." Greg thanked her and Wordy escorted her out.

Greg ran his hand down the back of his head. "Okay, let's see if we can establish contact and find out what these guys want."

At that precise moment Kira's voice crackled in their ears. "Sarge, call for you."

"Who is it?"

"Says he's the guy in charge. He calls himself Captain Ahab!"