Time Circle

by Androgene

A pair of Sentinel and Guide travel back to present-day Cascade. Completed a few yrs back. Was formerly under Cyberoid13

3. Unravelling - Part 1

Name : Cyberoid13
Title : Time Circle - Unravelling
Category : Drama
Rating : PG-13

Author's comments: This is the sequel to 'Time Circle - Converging'. It's an AU sorta,
what might happen instead of 'Warriors'. The mentioned Washington license plate
could be somewhat inaccurate, since I don't live there. I just based it on Jim's license
plate.

Spoilers for lots of episodes: 'Warriors', 'Blind Man's Bluff', 'Flight', 'Inside Man',
'Love and Guns', 'Secret', 'Survivors', 'Private Eyes', 'Killers' and 'Sentinel Too' Pt
1. And maybe a few others I forgot to mention.

Rohypnol is the pharmaceutical name for the 'date rape' drug. It does exist, though not
in my country (thankfully). Just the description of what it can do to a person gives me
the chills. It's so hard to believe that some people could come up with such a drug with
no thoughts to the consequences or the harm it can do to innocent people (women and
men alike). Golden doesn't really exist, of course (thank God). So the effect of the new
strain of Golden (with Rohypnol) is what I think might happen by meshing the
properties of both drugs together.

The Temple of Warriors mentioned in the story does exist in northern Yucatan, as does
the idol of Chacmool and the sacrifice altar. The ruins, together with the nearby
Temple of Kukulkan were the religious sites of an unknown hybrid society of both
Maya and Toltec elements. And this hybrid society did use the Temple of Warriors for
human sacrifices. The perfect site for a bloody ceremony and still in the same sphere of
influence as the Sentinel lore.

World War Three and the Antichrist were part of Nostradamus's prophecies for the
new millennium . He predicted the coming of the war and the Third Antichrist. Who,
he didn't specify.

This second instalment took a long time for me to write. Mostly because I was busy
with my school projects and suffering from a huge writer's block. But it's completed
now (whew). If you find the ending somewhat abrupt and unfinished and there's a lot
of unanswered questions, it's because I intentionally left it that way. I planned to pick
it up in the third and final instalment of the trilogy.

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer apply (I'm getting pretty tired of writing them). Of
course all original characters belong to me (such as McKennitt, Ariel and so forth).

Note : * indicates thought
// indicates telepathic speech
{} indicates events Jim sees

_____________________________________________________________________

~ D E R A I L I N G ~


THE DREAM

Even before he opened his eyes, he knew he was dreaming. The surface beneath his
back was too hard, the air too damp. But when he opened his eyes and saw the blue-
tinged jungle, he realised he was having another one of his vision-dreams again.

He rose to his feet, absently glancing down at his attire. Black tee and pants, different
clothes from the first time he had this sort of dream. But the bluish-tinged jungle
remained the same, as well as the black panther that sat patiently on its hunches
staring at him with its golden eyes. He stared back at the feline, his heartbeat picking
up its rhythm. Somehow, he didn't think his Spirit Guide would pay him a visit just for
sake of it.

Purring softly, his Spirit Guide shook its massive head and padded away deeper into
the jungle, pausing once at the edge of the clearing to look back at him. He got the
hint and swiftly followed the black cat. He was forced to run after it, as his Spirit
Guide loped through the jungle at a ground-eating speed. He burst into another
clearing, stumbling to a halt in front of the temple he had seen only once before in his
dreams. His Spirit Guide took its place on the alter and began to transform, morphing
into a man.

He thought it would be an Indian Sentinel, like it was the last time. To his shock, his
Spirit Guide took on his shape, his face. He gaped at the mirror image standing on
the stone alter, dressed in jungle fatigues and war-paint, regarding him with the same
blue eyes but filled with ageless wisdom.

"Why am I here?" he asked when it was clear his Spirit Guide was not going to break
the silence.

"To be given a warning." He shivered. It was his voice that answered his question,
right down to the accent. But the reverberating, haunting bass was so typical of his
Spirit Guide. "Danger approaches, Sentinel."

"What danger? To whom? From where?"

"The paths of time are unravelling," his Spirit Guide continued, as though it didn't
hear his questions. It pointed upwards to the sky. When he looked in that direction, he
saw the sky rippling and shredding apart to reveal the same patch of stars again and
again. The unearthly phenomenon made his skin crawl.

"What do you mean?" He really hated it when his Spirit Guide started going all
mystical on him. He took a step closer to the alter, searching the serene expression of
his mirror image.

* * *

A crack of thunder echoed across the sky, startling him. He bolted straight up in bed,
mind still caught somewhere between dream state and awakening. Thunder rumbled
once more, bringing him back fully to the waking state. For a still moment, he scanned
the loft with his senses, making sure that he was fully awake. Rain pelted in earnest
outside, a beating staccato against the skylights and windows. Lightning occasionally
lit the dark interior of the loft. Beneath his bedroom, he could hear the steady, sleep-
slow heartbeat of his roommate and Guide. All was right with the world at this
moment. He slumped, wiping a hand across his sleep-gummed eyes as though to erase
the last traces of his dream.

His dream. His all-too real dream. The almost prophetic warning he was given. He
shivered, and not liking the sensation one bit. Although he hadn't understood whatever
his Spirit Guide was trying to tell him, the message sounded too dire and important for
him to dismiss. He would have to discuss this with his Guide first thing in the morning.
Hopefully, his Guide would be able to come up with some kind of explanation.

Lying back down, he stared up at the ceiling of the loft, convinced that he wouldn't get
back to sleep tonight. But he was wrong as minutes later, sleep crept up to him
unnoticed.

_____________________________________________________________________


DAY ONE

In the business district of Cascade, Washington, it was just another working day. The
weather was calm and almost balmy, despite the thunderstorm in the night. Many office
workers, making full use of their lunch hour, descended upon Bayside Park for a
chance to stretch their limbs and breathe the fresh air. Everything was calm and
peaceful. Just another ordinary day in the lives of the people of Cascade.

For most of them anyway.

A high-pitched squeal shattered their peaceful ordinary world, paralysing everyone in
that one moment of instinctual fear. Before their eyes, a white van careened around the
corner on two wheels, threatening to topple over to its side through sheer momentum.
With an effort, the van righted itself and zoomed down Bayside Road at breakneck
speed.

Heartbeats later, a blue Ford Expedition came skidding around the same street corner,
followed closely by a brown Buick. The Expedition arched wildly across the road,
fighting to stay off the sidewalks. Slightly behind it, the Buick swerved to avoid
colliding with the Expedition. The huge car spun briefly out of control, then lunged
right back into chase with a nerve-grating screech of tires. Right behind the Expedition
boring down the road with a single-mindedness typical of its driver.

Both vehicles had their police lights flashing, and sirens wailing like banshees,
proclaiming to one and all that the cops of Cascade was pursuing yet another criminal
in their rainy city.

"Get out of the way! Get out of the way!" Blair Sandburg yelled from his shotgun seat.
He frantically waved at the by-passers with one arm for emphasis while trying not to
lose his grip against the dashboard. It was all he could do not to tumble about in his
seat, despite having the seat-belt on.

Blair threw a glance in his partner's direction and swallowed. Jim Ellison was totally
focused on the white van he was chasing. Underneath the Jags baseball cap, his
expression was hard and his glare like searing blue laser. But what caused his gulp was
the fact that Jim was doing two things at once: chasing criminals at breakneck speed
and barking through the police radio.

"...suspects are armed and dangerous. Repeat: this is Detective James Ellison in pursuit
of a white goods van. License plate is - "

"Look out!" Blair yelped. Even as the Expedition swerved sharply to avoid hitting a
pedestrian walking her dog.

"- 325 SGT," Jim continued without missing a beat. "Request backup. Suspects are
armed and dangerous." He deftly hung the police radio back onto its hook without
taking his eyes off the fleeing white van. "You all right, Chief?"

"Yeah." Blair's stomach flopped crazily as Jim took another corner hard. *Then again,
maybe not.*

He had been riding with Jim for almost two years, and he had never once got used to
these wild car chases his partner seemed so inclined to do. Blair swallowed hard as the
Expedition shot past a traffic junction, nearly causing a major pileup with cars
travelling in both adjacent directions. Honks blaring and the shouts of angry drivers
barely reached his ears as the Expedition swiftly carried them away from the near
accident.

The brown Buick pulled up on his right, matching speed with the powerful SUV.
Behind the wheel sat J.E. McKennitt a.k.a Jamie Ellison to an exclusive few. Blair
glanced in her direction and back at Jim. What he saw convinced him that the crooks
had no chance in hell of getting away. McKennitt's intense expression of concentration
and Jim's clenched jaws were so similar in their determination to catch the criminals
that they could almost be siblings.

Almost. Try blood-related instead.

McKennitt's passenger Doctor Ariel G. Sutherland looked about as tense as he felt.
Blair could sympathise. Like him, she was also hanging on for dear life despite being
safely buckled down in her seat.

"Get down!" Jim's arm shot out to yank him down in his seat.

Blair obeyed instantly, his instincts conditioned from hearing that yell of warning too
many times before.

And just in time too.

The back of the van burst open, revealing two gunmen braced against the frame aiming
automatic rifles at the two vehicles. Jim hunched down behind his wheel as bullets
sprayed across the front of the pursuing cars. The onslaught forced both vehicles to
split apart to either side of the road.

"Shoot at me, why don't cha?" Jim growled, his resentment rising every second. "I just
got the truck back from the shop, goddamnit!"

Sticking his gun out of the window, Jim fired back. From the other side of the road, he
heard the answering bark of McKennitt's gun as well. In quick succession, they shot
the automatic rifle out of gunman's hands and dropped the other with a bullet through
his chest. Wisely, the first gunman yanked the van doors close against their gunfire.

Jim felt a rush of satisfaction. He wasn't sure who took out the gunman, but it didn't
matter. What really matter was catching the criminals.

Jim fired another time, this time aiming for one of the rear wheels. With his Sentinel
sight, he clearly saw the tire being punctured by the bullet. The van spun crazily out of
control, skidding and sliding across the road, before slamming into the side of a
building.

The Expedition and Buick pulled up to a less violent halt, cornering the van to cut off
all venues of escape. Both Sentinels were out of their vehicles in a heartbeat. Guns held
aloft, they advanced swiftly towards the van.

"Cascade PD!" One hand aiming his gun at the dazed driver, Jim yanked open the
door. "Get out with your hands in the air!"

By now, several patrol cars have joined them. Jim roughly hauled the driver out of the
van, giving him no opportunity to put up any resistance and unceremoniously dumped
him in the uniformed cops' hands.

"Cuff him and read him his rights!" He barked, holstering his gun.

Sandburg, deeming the situation safe, scurried quickly to his side. His dark blue eyes
were wide with concern. "You all right, Jim?"

"I'm fine." Jim's irritated tone belied his light touch on Blair's arm, an unconscious
gesture to assure himself that his Guide was unhurt. Then he saw the damage did to his
beloved truck. "Oh, man. My truck! I just got it back from the shop for only a month
and now I got to send it back again!"

Blair patted his back in commiseration. He felt pretty awful about the whole thing as
well. He had grown very fond of the Expedition too. But what can he say? Jim's
vehicle karma was BAD.

"Yours ain't the only vehicle due for the shop," McKennitt groused darkly. She and
Ariel joined them, the former holding the gunman's weapon. "My car needs a complete
makeover."

"And about time too," Ariel added, sounding absolutely unsympathetic. "I can't wait to
choose a much nicer colour than brown."

McKennitt scowled at her Guide. "What's wrong with brown? It blends."

"It's awful."

"It's my car."

"It's still an awful colour."

"Sounds like your apron, big guy." Blair muttered Sentinel-soft and ducked when Jim
swatted the back of his head.

"We'll discuss this later," McKennitt told Ariel firmly. She passed the automatic rifle
she was holding to Jim. "Look at this."

Jim instantly recognised the make of the automatic rifle. "It's military issued."

"Check the bullets."

Jim deftly removed the magazine clip and peered in. A chill ran down his spine.
"Armour-piercing bullets."

"This is beginning to sound very familiar," Blair commented darkly.

"We better check the van."

The moment he pulled open the panel door, Jim knew they had unwittingly took part in
something more than just a simple car chase. There were several wooden crates in the
van, long and rectangular. All of them were sealed. The air inside was thick with the
smells of gunpowder and blood. But beneath all those was the scent of something else.
Something that brought back dark memories. Jim immediately took a step back,
barring Blair's way with an outstretched arm.

"Jim, what is it?" Blair was concerned. Jim's very posture told him his Sentinel was in
full 'Blessed Protector' mode. He glanced over to McKennitt and was intrigued to see
a similar kind of response from her.

"Keep back, Blair. I don't want you this close to the van."

Blair obediently took a step back but persisted in asking, "You know what's in there?"
Jim almost never call him by his first name unless he was concerned about his safety.

"I have a good idea." Jim tugged on the pair of leather gloves he never failed to bring
with him to anywhere. "J.E., wear your gloves before you touch anything."

"Way ahead of you, Ellison." McKennitt clambered into the van. "This one?"

"Yeah." Jim grasped the other end of the chosen crate. "I need a crowbar."

"There's one in Jamie's car. I'll get it." Ariel volunteered.

Together, both Sentinels carried one of the crates out of the van. With the crowbar
Ariel brought him, Jim began forcing open the lid. They all watched tersely, the Guides
not knowing what was inside but sensing from their Sentinel's tension that the contents
were somehow dangerous.

Jim tossed the lid aside as McKennitt began scooping up handful after handful of
packing straw. Jim joined her and together they unburied their prize. He immediately
snatched his hands back as though they were burned.

"Jim?" Now Blair was alarmed. He had never seen his Sentinel react that way before.
He stepped forward, ignoring Jim's warnings to stay away from the van. Jim hastily
scrambled to his feet to block his view, but it was too late. Blair caught a glimpse of
yellow packages, and he turned completely ashen.

"Shit, Jim. That's...is that...Golden?" Blair turned his horrified gaze to his partner,
mutely pleading with him to correct his realisation.

But Jim's grim expression didn't change at all. With gentle hands, he led his Guide
away from the van. "I think so, Chief."

"You think so?!" Blair almost shrieked.

"There's something different about this one." Jim turned and clasped Blair firmly by his
arms, locking eyes with his freaked out Guide. "Sandburg, it's not going to hurt us
now. I won't let it hurt us. Do you hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you." Blair took a deep breath, rising one hand to rake through his hair.
To his dismay, his hand shook visibly. "Think I'll go sit in the truck."

"Okay, you do that." Jim squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before letting go.

"How is he?" Ariel asked worriedly, watching Blair returning silently to the van.

"Shaken. But nothing he can't bounce back from." Unwillingly, Jim directed his gaze
back down into the crate again.

"Nightmares have a way of returning, doesn't it?" McKennitt's voice was soft and
understanding.

Jim didn't answer. Instead, he braced himself with a deep breath and reached for one of
the plastic package. McKennitt's gloved hand shot out to forestall him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she warned.

"There's something else in there. Can't you smell it?"

"Yes, I can smell it." McKennitt said sarcastically. Ariel smacked her gently on the arm
in reproach. Sighing, she softened her tone. "Why don't you let us do the touching,
grandpa?"

Jim stepped back with a mental sigh of relief. Much as he hate to admit it, it really did
sound like a good idea. He watched as Ariel began emptying the crate of square plastic
packages of the yellow powder one after another. He counted up to three before
realising that McKennitt wasn't touching the stuff either. Absently, he filed away that
small bit of information.

Ariel removed ten packages of Golden and another layer of packing straw before
finding what both Sentinels' senses had clued them in. She hesitated, her expression
sad. "Jamie?"

Now it was McKennitt's turn to reach into the crate and pulled out a long carefully
wrapped object in plastic. Grim-faced, Jim too lifted a brand-new assault rifle identical
right down to the wrappings to the one in McKennitt's hands.

"Look like we've just struck double jackpot."

* * *

"We were heading for that new restaurant down at Chancier Road for lunch when the
call came over the radio." Jim was saying in the aftermath of the car chase. Now hours
later, they were in their superior's office, explaining how they managed to get involved
in some kind of criminal-based activity again. "We didn't know the van was carrying
drugs and firearms. It was a total fluke."

"Make that second total fluke," Captain Simon Banks injected drolly. "Or have you
forgotten about the last time you accidentally bust that gunrunner?"

Jim winced. How could he forget? It was the first time he ever received a mother's
frantic call in the middle of a gunfight. He counted himself extremely lucky not to have
Naomi skinned him alive for taking Blair into that situation.

"And just what is it with you two anyway?" Simon continued to rant. "You can't go
anywhere without running straight into trouble."

"What can we say, Simon?" Blair shrugged sheepishly. "It's just karma."

Simon almost rolled his eyes heavenward. Trust the kid to come up with the 'karma'
explanation, but hell, it made sense. His best detective team was also the most
troublesome one. One of these days, he swore they were going to drive him to an early
retirement...in the psyche ward.

His gaze raked over the other two occupants in his office, who so far hadn't said a
single word since they've entered. McKennitt was seated by the conference table, her
expression closed.

Doctor Ariel G. Sutherland stood near the windows, staring absently at the city spread
outside. He wasn't surprised to find her involved in this 'little' car chase. Ever since
she joined the police force, the new department psychologist had been spending a lot
of time in Major Crimes, particularly with McKennitt, instead of where she was
supposed to be working. His cop instincts told him there was definitely something
going on out there in his bullpen. He ran a discreet background check on Ariel, came
up with nada, quizzed his best team and concluded they knew something and was not
telling him. Throw in the fact that his two formerly-at-loggerhead detectives had so
quickly come to some kind of compromise only made him all the more curious.

Just take this afternoon, for example. Jim and Blair had actually gone out for lunch
with them. That really shocked him, despite the fact they never made it to the
restaurant. No one but no one could bury the hatchet and hit it off so fast with Jim
Ellison.

"And what have you got to say about the incident, McKennitt?" he asked bluntly.

McKennitt shrugged. "Ariel and I were in my car when we got the call too. The four of
us were nearby and responded. Caught up with the van at Bayside Road and took them
down minutes later. It'll all be in my report, sir."

Simon stared at her shrewdly for a moment. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Jim
and Blair exchanging glances. There was definitely a mystery here, but one that could
wait. Crime in Cascade, however, can't.

"I've just talked to Lieutenant Baron from Narcotics. Two weeks ago, Narc received a
tip off about a big drug exchange going down at Mackenzie Street this morning.
Lieutenant Baron was put in charge of the operation. According to him, the dealers
somehow caught wind of their presence and split the scene. His team managed to
apprehend everyone but four escaped."

"We caught two, and killed one." Jim counted. "So what happened to the fourth one?"

"Baron's men lost him in the sewers."

"Smart crook."

"Does Narcotics know they were dealing with Golden?" Blair asked quietly.

Simon shook his head. "They thought it was heroin. Hell, the additional shipment of
military firearms took them by surprise."

"Dealers don't usually do drugs and weapons, captain." McKennitt pointed out.
"Whoever it is, he must be new and...very bold."

"He is." Simon handed a thick stack of folders to Jim. "Here's all the files on this new
kid on the block. He's been around for a couple of months, but already he has
established himself as the most dangerous and powerful criminal around. You should
know him. He calls himself 'The Boss'."

Tense silence descended in his office like a smothering blanket. Blair unconsciously
edged closer to Jim, whose flexing jaws spoke volume. McKennitt was quivering from
tightly restrained hatred, and Ariel - pale but still calm - laid a soothing hand on her
shoulder. Not for the last time, Simon wondered just what kind of beef they had with
this Boss.

"Is there something you would like to tell me?" The very tone of Simon's voice clearly
stated it was not a request. His stead gaze travelled from Jim to McKennitt and back.
Surprisingly, McKennitt averted her gaze from his scrutiny.

"Look," he tried again, "I know there's more to it than what you put down in your
reports for the double-kidnapping. And I really appreciate it if someone could fill me
in."

They all remained silent.

"Fine, have it your way." Simon sighed in exasperation. "The mayor, therefore the
Chief and Commissioner are very concerned about this Boss guy. So I'm setting up a
task force to nail him. Jim, you'll be in charge. All your other cases will be reassigned.
I want your full attention on this case. Gather whatever people you need, all
department resources are at your disposal."

"Well, for starters, I would like to add J.E. and Doctor Sutherland to the task force."

Simon blinked. *Did he just call his ex-rival J.E.?* He directed his thoughtful gaze to
the women in his office. *Interesting how quickly he ropes the both of them in. But
still...*

"Can the both of you work together without going for each other's throat?" he asked
bluntly.

McKennitt nodded. "I can."

"Our relationship is improving," Jim said.

"And you, Doctor Sutherland? Jim, she's not a profiler if that's why you asked for
her."

"I have the necessary knowledge," Ariel spoke up. "I can help."

"What kind of knowledge?"

Ariel shifted her weight from one foot to another and fibbed. "I was trained to be a
profiler before I decided on a career change. That should save you the trouble of
asking the FBI for one."

Simon studied her a moment longer, then eyed Jim questioningly. His detective only
returned his scrutiny with that bland expression of his. Sighing, he gave in. "All right.
But I'll need you to do a prisoner transfer with Rafe tomorrow morning, McKennitt.
Brown called in sick this morning."

"Who's the prisoner?"

"Fillmore. You and Rafe will be escorting to him to the airport with two San Francisco
detectives. They're bringing him back to stand trial." Simon leaned back in his chair,
thinking. "What are the chances of the Boss attempting to spring him tomorrow?"

"It's a possibility," Jim admitted. "If the Boss is attempting to widen his horizon, he's
going to need every man he can get. And what better way to instil loyalty than to be
there for them?"

"He's got a point," McKennitt agreed.

"All right. I'm going to tighten security for the transfer tomorrow. Rafe will ride
shotgun with Fillmore, as per SOP. You'll be his backup."

"Can I go along as well?" Ariel blurted out without thinking. Only when she felt
McKennitt's shoulder tensed beneath her hand did she realise what she said.

Simon stared at her incredulously. "Do you want to explain to me why you should go
along, Doctor?"

Ariel gulped, quailing a little under his stern gaze. "No, sir. It's just a crazy idea."

"I'm really glad you realised it." Simon smiled brightly at her. "So, Jim, where are you
going to start?"

"Well, going through these files, for one thing. Get a feel of how the Boss works. Also,
I'd like to search the van when forensics are through with it and interrogate the perps.
And Simon, we need to send the Golden down to the labs for analysis. I don't think it
was the same Golden we encountered the last time."

"Explain."

"It's different somehow. I don't know how to put it."

"All right. I'll put a priority on it. Now go get to work and let me have my office
back."

"Yes, sir."

Simon watched as the four trooped out of his office. Ariel soon left, probably heading
for her own desk somewhere else in the building. The other three milled around in the
bullpen, gathering necessary material before heading for the operations room.

He shook his head. He hadn't missed the little non-verbal by play in his office. The four
of them were keeping some kind of secret that involved this Boss guy. Normally,
Simon would let them be, willing to let them decide whether to tell him or not. But
now the situation was different. McKennitt and Sutherland were too emotionally
involved, and Jim and Blair weren't helping them to keep their objective. He's going to
have to keep a very close eye on this case. The Boss was a dangerous opponent. He
didn't need the issue complicated by some personal vendetta.

* * *

"That was a careless move in there, Ariel." McKennitt scolded her Guide in the relative
safety of the operations room. "What were you trying to do? The captain's already
suspecting something's up. You want to give him some more ammo to work with?"

"I'm sorry. I totally forgot I'm not your partner in this time frame." Ariel shrugged in
embarrassment. "What can I say? Old habits die hard."

"Why don't you just tell Simon?" Blair asked. "Aren't you tired of tiptoeing around
him in the bullpen? I know I am, watching the two of you."

"I don't think it's that simple, Chief." Jim said, pouring coffee for all of them.

"It's not," McKennitt replied morosely. "We already broke a cardinal rule when we
told you the truth." She sat down at the conference table, running a hand through her
thick black hair. "My job was supposed to be simple. Keep an eye on you until my dad
is born, and do not interfere no matter what."

"But you interfered," Blair pointed out.

"That's because Boss was still alive and I had to do something to stop him."

"So are all these supposed to happen?" Jim asked. "All these run-ins with the Boss?"

"You know I can't answer that," McKennitt replied.

"It would be nice." She scowled at him. "J.E., the Boss's dangerous. You saw how
easily he almost got us that night at the water treatment plant. He's up to something,
and we need every bit of information we can get to nail him."

"All right, all right." McKennitt caved in irritably. "It's all recorded history."

//Jamie!// Ariel was shocked.

Jim studied McKennitt steadily, sensing Ariel's agitation to her reply. "You sure?"

//Not now, pagan.// McKennitt thought back. Without missing a beat, she answered,
"Yes, I'm sure." Her gaze never wavered under Jim's probing scrutiny. Two could
play these games.

"Um, I really hate to interrupt." Blair gulped when two pairs of steely eyes swung his
direction. "But we do have a criminal to catch."

Jim locked gazes with McKennitt one last time. Slowly, in unspoken agreement, they
both backed down. Reaching for the stack of the folders, Jim began distributing them.
"Here you go."

Blair stared glumly at his exceptionally thick file. "This is a really thick file, Jim."

"So it is."

"I don't suppose I could —"

"No, Chief. You're my partner, remember?"

"I'm supposed to be observing you, not doing police work."

Jim pushed a steaming mug of coffee over to the younger man. "Then you'll need
this."

* * *

Caleb dreaded returning to the Boss's estate. But he had no choice. It was his duty to
report to the Boss about the botched transaction. Taking several deep breaths to calm
himself, Caleb nervously smoothed down the front of his dirty suit and made his way
reluctantly to the study. The Boss was there, deep in discussion with a dark-haired,
suavely dressed man in his thirties. Caleb thought the man looked vaguely familiar.
Both of them stopped in mid-discussion when he entered : the Boss with a slight frown
of displeasure, the man curious.

"What is it, Caleb?" The Boss asked irritably.

"Um..." Caleb's eyes drifted uncertainly at the man seated in one of the leather
armchairs.

The Boss sighed. "If you would excuse me, Vincent?"

Beckoning Caleb to follow, the Boss led the way into the anteroom of the study,
carefully shutting the partition doors behind him.

"Now speak."

Among all his subordinates, the handsome young man was the promising. He had
personally took Caleb off the street, groomed and taught him the ways of running a
syndicate. Smart, capable and utterly loyal to him (he enforced the loyalty with several
hypnosis sessions), Caleb was now his right-hand man, replacing Marisa after she got
herself arrested.

Caleb took another deep breath to steady his frazzled nerves. "We got a problem,
Boss."

"What kind of problem?"

Caleb swallowed hard. "Um, the police busted the Mackenzie transaction this
morning."

The Boss didn't react. "How much did we lose?"

"Everything, Boss. All...ten millions' worth of Golden and firearms. The van almost
got away, but they were stopped."

"And people?"

"Everyone, except me."

The Boss's expression was veiled as always. "How did you manage to escape the
police's clutches?"

Caleb didn't dare meet his eyes. "I used the sewers, Boss. It took me almost three
hours to make sure I shook them off."

"The Moroccos will not be pleased with this failed transaction, Caleb. I am not
pleased. How did the cops find out about the transaction?"

"The leak wasn't from our side, Boss." Caleb was quick to assure him. "I don't know
about the Moroccos, though."

"It has to come from somewhere." The Boss's eyes narrowed. Caleb found himself
unable to turn away from that hypnotic gaze. "Was it you?"

"No!" Caleb denied vehemently. "Boss, I swear to you, I'd never betray you."

The Boss held his gaze for a long moment, effortlessly raking through Caleb's mind.
As usual, when he did that, the young man blanched and turned a sickly green.

"Boss," he protested hoarsely, "please. Stop it. Please."

The Boss cruelly flexed his mental claws one last time to hear Caleb cry out in pain
before letting the man go. "Find the leak and seal it."

"Yes, Boss."

"And I want the shipment retrieved."

"The shipment is held in the police maximum-security lock-up."

The Boss poured himself a shot of whisky from a crystal carafe. "Even maximum-
security facilities can be broken in, Caleb. I want the shipment back."

"Yes, Boss. Is there anything else?"

"Who were the cops that stopped the van's getaway?"

"Detectives Ellison and McKennitt, sir."

Sounds of glass shattering. Caleb jumped, eyes widening when he saw the Boss's fist
drenched in whisky and blood. Crystal shards and whisky covered the expensive carpet
at his feet. "Boss!"

"Leave me," the Boss ordered. "Have the maid come clean up the mess."

Caleb immediately turned tail and fled the study, oblivious to the man who watched
him with unconcealed interest.

In the anteroom, the Boss watched in morbid fascination as the cuts on his palm begin
to heal on its own. With a handkerchief, the Boss wiped his hand clean and returned to
the study.

"Is everything all right?" the man inquired politely

The Boss smiled. "Everything's just fine, Vincent. Now where were we?"

"The negotiations with the Yakuza."

"Ah, yes. I think Dominic Lazar should head the negotiations. After all, they would not
trust a newcomer like me. What do you say?"

Vincent smiled thoughtfully. "I think my father would like that."

The Boss beamed.

If things goes well, he planned to be the head of the mob alliance in six months' time.
In another year or so, he should have consolidated his position well enough to start
taking control of the Northwest region. And from there, the rest of America.

Life can be so good.

* * *

Blair rubbed his tired eyes. "How long have we been here?"

"It's almost seven," Ariel replied. She scribbled something onto her notepad and tossed
aside her pen. "We've been here since two o'clock and two pots of coffee."

"And what did we find out so far?"

Jim began to tick off the list on his fingers. "The Boss is methodical, meticulous,
diabolical, bold, very creative, way too secretive, always one step ahead of others -
which can be explained by his knowledge of the future, cooks up elaborate schemes to
get what he wants, is in the process of controlling the criminal elements in the
Northwest region, have ties probably all the way up in the government...I need more
fingers."

"We don't know who are his people, where he's based or what he's going to do next."
McKennitt raised his arms for a back-breaking stretch and slumped in her chair. "Any
clues, anybody?"

Ariel sighed. "I wish. My profile of him is as accurate as ever. He's unpredictable. But
I do have a guess."

Jim poured himself a new mug of coffee. "Let's hear it."

"I think he'll take this botched transaction very personally. Especially if he realised we
were involved."

"So what are you saying?" Blair questioned.

"He'll retaliate. We can expect a very personal attack very soon. As to what he'll do, I
honestly don't know."

"But this is personal vendetta," McKennitt spoke up. "What about his business?
What's his weak spots?"

"We have the firearms and Golden to work with," Jim pointed out. "The firearms are
military-issued, which won't make it hard to trace. And the ingredients to make
Golden are very rare and hard to get."

"If we can track down the source and the buyer, we nail him." Blair finished for him.

Blair suddenly recalled something Jim said to him. "Jim, back at the van, what do you
mean when you told me you thought it wasn't like Golden?"

"It seemed different."

Blair leaned forward, curiosity and excitement lighting up his dark blue eyes. "How
different? Was it the smell? Or what?"

Jim gestured vaguely with his hands, struggling to describe what he sensed. "It's...it's
subtle. It's still Golden, but different. Like...like J.E."

McKennitt cocked an eyebrow.

"Just bear with me, all right. Everybody has their own individual scent. But blood-
related people's scents are similar. Like you and Naomi, Simon and his son, me and
J.E.."

"Wow," Blair muttered in awe. "You can actually tell blood relations by scent alone?"

Jim squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, somewhat embarrassed by his partner's sheer
admiration. "It's hard, and not unless I know what to smell for."

"I know that, but still...wow."

"So what you're saying is the drug is a different...," Ariel groped for the right word,
"strain?"

"Yeah."

"This is all very interesting," McKennitt interjected impatiently. "But can we focus
here? The Boss needs a place to manufacture this new brand of Golden. We got to find
it."

"It's most likely have to be some kind of chemical laboratory somewhere, isolated
enough not to draw attention and high-tech enough to manufacture the drug." Jim was
thoughtful. "We need to search the databases for all abandoned chemical plants or labs
in Cascade. We also need to talk to all our sources, find out what they know."

"That's a lot of work," Blair commented. "I don't know about you guys, but I think
it's best we start this fresh in the morning."

Ariel smiled tiredly. "Best suggestion I've heard so far. Dinner first, then home?"

"Sounds great." Jim began to tidy up the folders spread all over the table. McKennitt
pitched in, removing the mugs and coffee pot. "Chinese? My treat."

* * *

Jim was worried about his roommate. Ever since they discovered the resurfacing of
Golden, Blair had been subdued, quiet. He had no doubt that old nightmares were
making their presence felt again.

So he monitored his Guide carefully throughout the day. In Simon's office, during their
painstaking search through the cases and during dinner as well. Blair showed no sign of
discarding his brooding state, except that one time discussing his senses in the
Operations room. That made Jim nervous. Blair doesn't brood; Jim does. When they
finally got home, and Blair took a beer from the fridge and went out to the balcony, he
decided to do something about it.

"You all right, Chief?" he asked, joining Blair on the balcony.

"Not really." Blair took a swing of his beer as Jim waited patiently. "I thought we were
through with Golden. That we don't have to do this again. Once was bad enough
already. I can still remember the Fire People, Jim."

His Sentinel blanched.

"And that's all I could remember. Everything else was so hazy. I couldn't remember
that I was taking pot shots in the department garage with your backup piece. That I
almost set the whole place on fire. That I was aiming your gun at you. Man, I'm
surprised the brass didn't revoke my credentials after that incident."

"Who told you?" Jim asked in a hushed whisper.

"Simon did. I begged him to tell me," Blair added quickly, forestalling the anger he
could sense rising in Jim. "When I came round in the hospital and saw you looking like
hell warmed over, guarding my bedside, I knew I had to find out what happened. You
refused to say anything, so I had to ask him. He almost threw me out of his office, but
I had my ways. So don't you go giving him a piece of your mind."

Jim smiled wryly. "I won't, Chief. After all, he pulled strings to keep you in the
department."

It was Blair's turn to be surprised. "He did, huh? Guess I owe him one."

"We both do, shorty."

They fell silent again, enjoying their beer and the quiet night. Then Blair spoke again.

"Jim, we can't let Golden and military firearms hit the streets again. We have to stop
the Boss."

"We will." To Jim, it was a statement of fact.

"But I'm afraid to go up against him. Do you still remember what he did to you that
night at the water treatment plant?" Blair shuddered. "He made you lose control of
your senses, just by talking to you. I had to threaten to take my own life just to stop
him. God, I so do not want to do that again."

"But you beat him at his own game. Even though you were scared like hell and he's
got this talent for shamanism."

"Shamanism?" Blair was startled. "He's a Shaman, like Ariel?"

Jim stared at him. "You didn't know?"

"No, I don't. How did you know?"

"When the Chopec took me in, I lived with the shaman of the tribe. Their styles'
different, but I can identify a shaman when I see one."

"Oh boy," Blair muttered. "Now I'm terrified. We're probably dealing with evil
shamans. I'm an anthropologist, I study tribal cultures, and shamans - good and evil -
featured a prominent spot in their beliefs. Evil shamans are like the devil-worshippers
with real power, big guy."

Jim didn't know what to say. He was too busy trying to digest this newest bit of
information.

"You don't think Ariel knew about the Boss being a shaman, do you?" Blair asked
abruptly.

They stared at each other, seeing the questions and certainties in each other's eyes.

"I think," Jim replied slowly, "we need to have a long talk with them first thing in the
morning."

"Oh, definitely."

* * *

Somewhere else in Cascade, McKennitt has barely stepped over the threshold of the
apartment she shared with Ariel when her Guide pounced on her.

"Why did you tell them it was recorded history when it's so obviously not?" she
demanded.

"They didn't have to know." McKennitt headed for her bedroom. "I get the bathroom
first."

She trailed after her. "Jamie -"

"Ariel, it's for their own good." McKennitt closed the bathroom door in her face.

Ariel scowled at the varnished bathroom door, arms crossed and one foot tapping
impatiently on the floor. She could hear the sounds of the shower running.

//A closed door and running shower ain't going to stop this conversation, Jamie.//

//Never even cross my mind, pagan. It was the right thing to do.//

//You mean lying to someone who's trying not to get on your nerves?//

McKennitt yanked open the door, wrapped in a towel sarong-style, catching Ariel off-
guard. Hair plastered down wetly, the Eurasian Sentinel nailed her Guide with a
glower. Ariel bit her lip, sensing somehow she had pushed too far.

"Ariel, before you time-travelled, did you undergo that required six-month training?"

"No. I had to do something fast to save your life from that bomb, remember?"

McKennitt's glower turned exasperated. "We're dealing with time-travel. Spending six
months in training won't stop you from still saving me in the nick of time."

"Your point being?"

"My point being there are rules when it comes to time-travel. That's why I was
required to undergo the training session, so they can pound those rules into my head. I,
we, broke one of the rules when we told them our identities. I did it knowingly because
I couldn't find any other way to save you and Professor Sandburg. You, because you
were delirious and didn't know about the rules. We can't compound that mistake by
telling them bits and pieces of the future. It'll change everything."

Ariel looked at her sombrely. "Everything's already changing, Jamie. Or haven't you
notice it?"

"I have. I've even seen it in my dreams. That's why I've to lie to them to protect the
future, friends or no friends. Both of them see too much. Do you understand?"

Ariel sighed. "When you put it like that, how can I say I don't?"

McKennitt smiled. "Good. Now can I have my bath in peace?"

"Just save me some hot water."

_____________________________________________________________________


INTERLUDE

Alien land, alien sky.

So different from the forested world he knew so intimately. Here, even at night, there
was light. A different kind of light that set the sky aglow and drowned out the
glittering stars. And the air smelled so bad, so...impure. A smell that constantly
reminded him why he and his fellow tribesmen braved the horrors of the vast salty
waters to travel to this alien land.

Incacha shivered, unused to the cold. He longed to see the sun, feel the humid air of
the rain forest on his skin, but his home was far, far away.

He was the Shaman of his tribe, the wisest of them. Most importantly, he was the only
one of the small band of hand-chosen warriors who knew anything about their
destination. Enqueri had told him much about this cold sunless land. Yet, for all his
mental preparation, it did nothing to cushion the shock.

Turning away from the grimy window, Incacha returned to the small campfire,
welcoming the heat. The other Chopec warriors, save one, had already bedded down
for the night. He nodded a goodnight to the one standing watch before lying down on
the cold hard floor. The thin layer of cloth did nothing to prevent the chill from seeping
into his bones.

Closing his eyes, Incacha fell asleep immediately and began to dream...

* * *

He was back in the jungle again. Wearing the same black clothes. Standing in front of
the stone temple and his Spirit Guide pacing agitatedly on the stone alter.

His Spirit Guide. The black panther stopped its restless pacing, facing him with its
bright yellow eyes. It roared once.

"What?" He asked. "What are you trying to tell me?"

The black panther merely shook its head, then morphed into the shape of a man. He
gaped at the image, recognising the war-painted face.

"Incacha?"

His Spirit Guide showed no signs of recognition at that name. "Why do you not
protect your tribe?"

"I don't understand. Am I not protecting my tribe everyday?"

His Spirit Guide pointed to the sky again. He didn't have to look to know the strange
phenomenon was still in play. "Danger approaches, Sentinel."

Look like they were back to square one. "What danger? To whom? From where?"

"The paths of time are unravelling."

"I don't understand. You got to tell me more than that." He didn't really expect his
Spirit Guide to, though. The cat was notorious for keeping certain information to
itself.

To his surprise, his Spirit Guide told him something new. "Only you and your unborn
child can right the wrong again."

"What?" He was confused. His Spirit Guide began to morph again. "Wait! I don't
understand!"

With a roar, his Spirit Guide leapt off the alter and vanished into thin air.

* * *

Jim jerked awake, drenched in sweat despite the night chill. Too uneasy to get back to
sleep, he slid out of bed. Pulling on a robe, he padded quietly down the stairs to the
kitchen for a drink of water. He needed it, while he sort out his dreams.

_____________________________________________________________________


DAY TWO

As always, it took a hot shower and freshly brewed coffee before Blair finally
overcame the shock of waking up in the morning. The moment he was alert, Blair
noticed the fine lines of exhaustion lining his roommate's face, and the troubled look in
those glacial-blue eyes. Alarm bells sounded in his mind. There was only one reason for
his partner to look slightly worse for wear in the morning.

"Sleepless night?" he asked, timing his question to catch Jim trying to hide a yawn.

"So-so," Jim hedged.

"Bad dreams?" Blair guessed.

Jim started to say no, then changed his mind. In a way, it was like having bad dreams.
"Comes with the job."

"Sorry, Jim."

Jim blinked, the apology catching him completely off guard. "Sorry for what?"

"For eating that pizza. I don't know why I did that. I mean, it's the pie of death and I
usually avoid eating it. But that night, I don't know why I ate it. Then again, even if
I'm a pizza lover, I should be suspicious of the delivery. I mean, the Chief of Police
wasn't the kind of person to treat an entire unit to a stackful of pizzas. That would be
like showing favouritism, man. I can't believe —"

"Chief," Jim interrupted, "you don't have to apologise for that."

Blair stared at him, mouth still open as his sentence died halfway.

"You couldn't have known the pizza was laced with Golden. Neither could you have
known the whole delivery was a trap. You were as much as a victim as I was to that
drug. So stop beating yourself up over it."

"Okay," Blair replied slowly.

"Besides, what does Golden have to do with me not sleeping well last night?"

"Well, I figured the resurfacing of Golden had something to do with your bad dreams
last night."

"No, it doesn't."

"It doesn't, huh?"

Jim nodded, chewing a mouthful of bread. He watched as Blair pondered over this new
revelation. The kid was so transparent. He could practically see every thought made
itself known on his face, and pinpointed the exact moment Blair decided to ask him:
"So what did you dream?"

Jim chuckled inwardly. Then he sobered, trying to find a way to describe his dreams
without Blair going all 'Freud' on him.

"I can't remember much of it," he began. "But I think it has something to do with
time."

"Oh, man. What else can you remember?"

Jim shrugged, not meeting his roommate's eyes. "That's about it."

Blair stared steadily at his partner. After nearly two years of bunking with the man, he
had learnt to read the minute expressions in that granite face. "What else, Jim?"

Jim sighed, seeing no way out of this fix. "I saw the panther in my dreams again."

"Really?" Blair started to bounce excitedly in his chair. "Was it in the jungle? Did you
see any stone temple, or was it the altar? What did the cat say? Was the vision some
kind —"

Jim held up his hands to forestall the bombardment. "Whoa, slow down, Chief. One
question at a time, okay?"

"Jim, I'm dying of suspense here."

"It was in the jungle," Jim began.

It was probably the only way to shut him up and it worked. Blair fell silent, leaning
forward eagerly to catch every word he said. His dark blue eyes sparkled with that
intent excited light Jim had come to associate with the scientist in him.

"I was running after the panther. It was leading me to somewhere, a stone altar, I
think."

"And?" Blair prompted.

"And when I reached the altar, the panther began to —"

The shrill sound of the phone ringing interrupted Jim's sentence. Blair groaned, just
knowing Jim would take this opportunity to change the subject. He scowled at his
partner reaching for the cordless phone with an apologetic look.

"Ellison." Blair watched as Jim broke out into a wide grin. "Hi, Sneaks!"

Blair groaned again, dropping his head onto the tabletop. Jim reached over and patted
his head comfortingly, even as he listened to what Sneaks was telling him.

"I'll be there in twenty." Jim disconnected the line and regarded his partner with an
amused eye. "Feel up to a little meeting, Chief?"

Blair lifted his head inches off the tabletop and eyed him suspiciously. "Whose sneakers
this time?"

"Well, since I don't wear sneakers..." Jim's voice trailed off suggestively.

Blair glowered at him. "You owe me, big guy."

"I'll get you a new pair."

"Which I probably wouldn't get to wear it."

Jim chuckled, raising from the dining table. "You wanna wrap your bagel in something,
so you can eat it along the way?"

"Nah, I'm about to finish." Blair hastily wolfed down the last bits of his bagel. "What
about you?"

"I'll get a doughnut at the diner."

"Doughnut? Jim, how could you eat doughnuts for breakfast?"

Jim shrugged on his navy-blue jacket. "Why not?"

Blair shook his head. "It's amazing how you could eat all that junk and still remain
healthy."

Jim laughed, pulling open the door. "Let's go, Chief."

"Just let me get an extra pair of shoes first."

"Don't forget to bring your keys."

"Yeah, yeah. I got it."

* * *

Sneaks was already waiting for them as they stepped into the diner. The informer with
the taste for sneakers grinned broadly, waving to them. Jim couldn't help but grin back
at the irrepressibly happy informer.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Sneaks greeted. "How are you, Ellison?"

"Just fine and dandy." Jim took the seat next to him. He gestured to Blair. "You met
him the last time."

Sneaks smiled at the wary Blair. "Wonderful sneakers, man. Feel like I'm walking on
air."

"Glad you enjoyed them," Blair replied without much enthusiasm. He took a
surreptitious look at Sneaks' feet. "So where's my sneakers?"

"Oh, here and there, you know..." Sneaks said vaguely. Then he brightened, hastily
turning his attention to Jim. "Guess what news I got for you."

"What news?" Jim played along, even though he was aware of Blair's killer glower
aimed at Sneaks.

Sneaks leaned towards him and said in an exaggerated whisper, "Golden."

"Golden, huh?" Jim kept the smile on his face. Sneaks always react better to a positive
reaction. "Thought we wiped the stuff off the streets the last time."

"But it's back," Sneaks laughed, smacking Jim on the back. "Guess your hunch really
paid off, Ellison."

*Hunch?* Blair looked quizzically at Jim. Jim couldn't have told Sneaks about the new
batch of Golden; he was stuck to his Sentinel like glue these few days. So when did
Jim send out the request?

"Spill the news, Sneaks. Don't keep us in suspense," Jim cajoled.

Sneaks got a sudden speculative look on his face. Blatantly, he ducked a look at both
their feet and let out a whistle. When he looked up again, there was a covet gleam in
his eyes. Blair could almost see him drooling. "Those are great sneakers."

"Like them, huh?" Jim smirked. "Latest from Nike."

"For them, I would tell you everything I know."

*Know you would,* Jim thought as he grinned at his informer. Sneaks leaned forward.
This time, both detective and observe also leaned forward.

"Okay, this is what I know. A few months back, this guy came out from nowhere and
assumed control of the street gangs. And I mean from nowhere. No one had ever heard
of him. He just popped up like jack-in-the-box and asserted his authority."

Jim and Blair exchanged a glance. They knew who he was talking about.

"Next thing you know, he's making deals with big drug dealers and mobs, and had his
hands in everything. There's nothing he won't touch. Word as it he's negotiating a
kind of criminal alliance with all the mobs across the world."

They exchanged an alarmed look. A crime alliance was Bad News.

"Any idea who's helping him with this alliance thing?" Jim asked, all serious now.

"Not really. But I hear things, you know. Rumours. Some said it was the Yakuza,
some said it was the Lazar family, I dunno."

Jim mentally filed away that small tidbit of information. Be it the Yakuza or Lazar, it
was still bad news. "And Golden?"

"He started manufacturing the yellow stuff about a month back," Sneaks informed
them. "Was going to sell the first batch to the Moroccos when the cops busted it."

"Did you hear anything about this new Golden?" Blair asked. "You know, how it was
different from the previous source?"

"Nope, nothing like that."

"What about locations? Any idea where it was manufactured?" Jim added.

Sneaks frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I'm not sure if this might be it, but word on the
streets has it that the stuff was manufactured in a hidden lab out in the forests."

"The forests?" Blair repeated.

"Yep, you got that right." Sneaks grinned at him. "So did I earn my keep or what?"

Jim pulled out his wallet. Once again, he lets Sneaks grab a couple of bills from his
wallet and indicated to Blair to take off his sneakers. His partner was way ahead of
him, handing his pair over to the ecstatic Sneaks, who immediately put them on and
trotted jauntily out of the diner with a cheerful goodbye.

"So was his information any help?" Blair couldn't help but ask sarcastically as he
pulled out a pair of boots from his backpack.

"Some," Jim shrugged. He chewed on a mouthful of doughnut. "The crime alliance's
something new. Got to tell Simon about it. Probably the FBI too. If the criminals are
forming some kind of alliance, we're in deep shit."

"What did Sneaks mean about your hunch?"

"Well, after that last brush with Golden, I got Sneaks to keep his eyes and ears out for
designer drugs on the street. Figured it wouldn't be the last time such things cross our
paths."

"With our kind of luck?" Blair pointed out wryly. "Glad to see your hunch paid off in
spades."

"I'll be happier if it didn't."

* * *

McKennitt was not having a good morning.

Ever since they reached the prison to escort Fillmore to the airport, the perp had been
smirking non-stop. It was that kind of smirk that practically screamed 'I know
something that you don't.' It got on her nerves and all she wanted to do is wrap her
fingers around the smug bastard's skinny neck. If they were in the primitive age, she
reflected sourly, she would've done it a long time ago.

Rafe was keeping his calm. Among all the detectives in Major Crimes, he was the most
mild-tempered. Perhaps that's why Simon chose him to be handcuffed to Fillmore on
the way to the airport. But mild-tempered or not, the young detective could feel
McKennitt's displeasure simmering. She was too quiet as she drove his sedan to the
airport, trailed by the two visiting detectives from SFPD in their rental. Occasionally,
she glanced into rear view mirror, checking on their prisoner. When that happened,
Fillmore simply smirked at her. Rafe soon found himself praying that Fillmore would
stop taunting her. Everyone knows her fuse was as short as Simon's pet pit bull a.k.a.
Jim Ellison.

McKennitt breathed a quiet sigh of relief when they reached the airport without
incident. But she was by no means relaxed. She got a bad feeling about this extradition,
aggravated by Fillmore's constant smirking. Tense and edgy, she kept Fillmore
between Rafe and her as they made their way to the departure hall, letting the visiting
detectives to bring up the rear.

All around her, she could see the added security stationed at the airport. There were
several airport security officers unobtrusively keeping their eyes on them. And she
spotted several plains-clothes detectives positioned throughout the lobby.

"Looks like the captain really went all out for this extradition," Rafe commented softly.
"Are we expecting trouble?"

"Just keep your eyes sharp," McKennitt advised.

Fillmore smirked. She was really beginning to get tired of that expression. "All the
King's horses and all the King's men," he sang, "couldn't stop the Boss from getting
his way."

Rafe grimaced.

Casually, McKennitt placed her hand on the place between his neck and his shoulder
and applied pressure. Fillmore squeaked in pain, shrinking away from her touch. She
didn't let go, simply smiled pleasantly at him.

It was Rafe's turn to smirk.

Soon it was time to board the plane. With obvious relief, Rafe relinquished Fillmore
over to the SFPD detectives. The younger of the pair handcuffed himself to the perp
while his partner thanked them for their help.

"Well, that's the last of him we'll see in a long while." Rafe said when the extradition
trio disappeared from view.

"I can't believe it went so smoothly," McKennitt muttered.

Rafe looked at her. "You were expecting trouble, weren't you?"

"Damn right I was." McKennitt shook her head, ponytail swinging lightly. "It shouldn't
have gone this smoothly."

"Don't look a horse gift in the mouth, J.E. That's what H always tells me."

They turned away and walked back through the departure hall for the parking lots.
McKennitt was still unconvinced and she scanned the departure hall with her senses,
probing for would-be disturbance. Then she heard it: a security guard's whispered
alarm at the departure gate, and then louder, a shout.

"He's got a gun!" The explosion of a machine gun drowned out the guard's shout of
warning.

"Jesus!" Rafe swore, seeing the berserking passenger opening fire at everyone around
him with a vengeance.

"Get down!" McKennitt yanked the young detective down behind a row of plastic
chairs, just as the spray of bullets swung in their direction.

Rafe was horrified to see several innocent passer-bys dropping to the floor, bleeding.
"He's crazy!"

McKennitt knelt up, raising her gun above the edge of the plastic chairs. The moment
she got a clear shot, she didn't hesitate. Gunfire died abruptly as the berserker
crumpled to the ground.

Warily, they approached the felled gunman, flashing their badges at the agitated
guards. Rafe knelt down and felt his neck. He looked up at McKennitt with something
close to awe. There was only one other person he knew who could make a shot like
that.

"He's dead."

"I know." McKennitt scanned the place littered with the wounded and dead. "Help
these people, Rafe. I'm going to check on our friends from San Francisco."

McKennitt didn't wait for a reply and took off in the direction of the departure lounge.
She had been keeping track of the extradition trio with her hearing even before the
massacre, so she knew where they would be. She had also heard what sounded like a
scuffle, almost drowned out by the gunfire.

Heart pounding, McKennitt skidded to a halt when she saw the limp bodies on the
ground. Two of them were the visiting detectives, the third an airport security guard.
The security guard was stirring feebly.

McKennitt hurried forward to help, even as she probed her surroundings for the
missing fugitive. "Cascade PD. Are you all right?"

"Yeah," gasped the security guard. "Just a hell of a headache."

McKennitt checked on the visiting detectives. One of them was dead, the second
bleeding profusely from his side. Kneeling down, she tried to staunch the bleeding with
her suit jacket.

"The airport medics will be here very soon," the security guard staggered over to her.

"Fillmore," the wounded detective croaked. "He...he..."

"I know." She had seen the broken end of his handcuffs dangling from his wrist. "Can
you take over?"

"What do I do?" the guard asked.

"Press this against the wound to slow down the bleeding," McKennitt instructed.
"Keep the pressure until the medics arrive."

Raising to her feet, McKennitt stretched out her senses. Smell of gunpowder, blood
and fear. People moaning in pain and distress. The sound of feet running down the
stairs, metal clicking on metal.

*There!*

McKennitt took off in the direction of the fire escape. Bursting through the steel door,
she peered over the railing and saw two men running. She gave chase, taking two steps
at a time.

Down, down, they went. They were headed straight for the basement parking.
Charging through the door, McKennitt saw the fugitive and his accomplice split up and
fled in different directions. She didn't have to choose; she went right after Fillmore.
She raced after the fleeing fugitive, nimbly negotiating her way through and on top of
the rows of parked cars.

"Freeze!" she yelled. Then she waited for a beat and opened fire.

Fillmore went sprawling onto the ground. Curling on the ground, he clutched at his
wounded thigh in agony. McKennitt advanced towards him, gun trailing steadily on the
fugitive.

"You hit me!"

"Shouldn't have ran," McKennitt told him bluntly. "Now lay down on your stomach
and spread out your limbs."

Something pricked her in the neck. Flinching, McKennitt reached out and felt her skin.
Her hand came away with a tranquilliser dart.

"Goddamn it." Whirling around, she pointed her gun at the shooter approaching her
with a tranquilliser gun in hand. Already, her sight was beginning to blur. "Put down
your weapon."

Caleb smiled contemptuously. "Give it a rest, detective. You're not going anywhere."

McKennitt wavered, gun falling to the ground with a clatter. Her arm was so heavy
and nerveless. She staggered away from them, digging her fingernails into her palms,
trying desperately to keep awake. But even all her Sentinel techniques of using pain to
counter the drowsiness failed.

//Ariel...//

* * *

Simon looked up from his perusal of the crime scene, as the Expedition pulled into an
empty lot in the basement parking. Surprisingly, only Blair aligned from the truck and
hurried over to him, ducking beneath the yellow police line.

"Where's Jim?"

"He's taking a look at the departure hall first," replied Blair breathlessly. "Said he
could smell the blood and gunpowder even from outside. There he is."

Simon turned to see Jim stepping out of the elevator and striding rapidly towards them.
Even from a distance, he could see the Sentinel's jaws grinding overtime. Behind him,
trailed Rafe, clothes stained with blood and still somewhat shell-shocked.

"What is he doing here?" Simon muttered, seeing his young detective approaching.
"He should be at home, anywhere but here."

"It's a blood bath up there, Simon." Jim said without preamble, his voice coloured with
restrained rage and sorrow. "Sixteen dead, and thirty wounded. The only good thing is
the berserker's dead."

"It was a massacre, pure and simple." Rafe's voice was still very shaky.

Simon looked hard at his youngest detective. It was plain to everyone that Rafe was
still in a turmoil about the bloody event. "I thought I told you to go home."

"McKennitt's missing, sir. I can't..." Rafe's voice trailed off, gaze travelling to a point
behind his captain. His stricken expression twisted even more.

When they turned to see what he was looking at, they saw Ariel racing towards them.
Her blue eyes were wild and there was a look bordering on sheer panic on her face.
Simon quickly moved to intercept her, thinking she was going to tear into Rafe -
something the badly shaken detective did not need. But he was wrong. She made a
beeline straight for Jim.

"Jim!" The words tumbled out of her in a rush. "You got to help Jamie! She's in
trouble! The Boss took her! You got to help her!"

"Calm down, Ariel." He soothed, placing his hands on her forearms. "I know she's in
trouble. We'll find her. And calm down. You're not doing her any good falling to
pieces."

Ariel shut her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. "I'm calm, I'm calm," she muttered it
over and over like a mantra.

Jim hugged her, trying to transfer comfort and some of his confidence to the terrified
Guide. She burrowed her face into his chest, grateful for his support. "We'll find her,"
he murmured softly. "I won't rest until I find her."

Ariel nodded against his jacket. "Thank you," she whispered too soft for anyone but
him to hear.

Above her head, Jim noticed Rafe's anguish and guilt. Effortlessly, he caught Blair's
eyes. Realising what his partner wanted him to do, Blair gently took the young
detective aside. He may not qualify as a psychologist, but he knew how to soothe a
tortured soul in his own way.

"Good job, Jim." Simon said once they were out of earshot. "Letting Blair handle
Rafe."

Ariel raised her head, chagrin clear on her face. "Rafe! I forgotten all about him. God,
he must be blaming himself for Jamie's disappearance right now and I dashing into here
like a madwoman didn't help anything. I better go over to the poor man."

"No," Jim replied. "If you go over now, he's going to bury himself deeper in his guilt.
He knows how close you are to McKennitt. Let Blair talk to him."

Ariel looked at him oddly. "Are you sure you aren't a psychologist, Jim?"

The Sentinel merely smiled at her. "I've been in his shoes before." Turning to Simon,
who watched their by-play speculatively, he asked, "what happened here, sir?"

"Right now, we're calling it a kidnapping. From what we can put together, an
accomplice attacked the SFPD detectives, killed one and seriously wounded the other
before freeing Fillmore." Simon passed two evidence bags over to Jim. "That's
McKennitt's gun. The other is a tranquilliser dart."

"So one of them managed to get the jump on her, tranquillised her with this and
whisked her away." Jim opened the evidence bag containing the dart and sniffed.
"Smells like the dart Cromwell's men got me with."

Simon stared at him, surprised to see him displaying his Sentinel abilities so openly in
front of another person. What made him even more intrigued was that Ariel was not
asking him about the apparent feat.

Jim handed the evidences back to Simon and proceeded to the crime scene, the captain
and Ariel two steps behind him.

"What about the carnage in the departure hall?" the detective asked. "Any idea who's
the killer?"

"We won't be able to identify him until later today. I've told forensics and the coroner
to put a rush on things." Simon shook his head, appalled at the state of things. "I know
Cascade's a dangerous place, but this..."

"It's worse because it had never happened here before." Jim finally stopped walking
and knelt down. "Just keep Sandburg away from there. He doesn't have to see the
place."

"Hell, I wish I don't have to see the place." Simon watched as Jim rubbed a dark spot
on the cement. "What did you find?"

"Blood. Fresh."

"She was hurt?" Ariel interjected anxiously.

"It's not hers." Jim stood up and searched for one of the forensic people. "Hey, Bob,
can you take a sample of this?"

"No problem."

"You know, Simon, I've this feeling that both incidents are connected."

Simon stared at him. "What? Are you trying to tell me that whoever's behind this
engineered a massacre upstairs to distract the security, so Fillmore can escape and
kidnap one of my detectives at the same time?"

"Yes, sir."

"Jim, who would be insane or cruel enough to kill tens of people for a distraction?"

"The Boss," Ariel replied softly.

"You absolutely sure it was him?"

Jim's glacial-blue eyes were flat with anger. "Like you said, who would be cruel and
insane enough?"

* * *

McKennitt shook off the residue effects of the tranquilliser and carefully rolled to her
side. The floor beneath her cheek was hard metal. A quick internal check revealed that
she had no other injuries, save for the swollen part on her neck where the dart had hit
her. The good thing was she still had her clothes, minus the duster. The bad thing she
was missing her backup piece and switchblade.

There was no doubt that she was imprisoned, and she knew very well who was behind
it. The only problem was she had no idea where she was held.

Lying still, she let her senses explore the place for her. Her sensitive skin told her that
wherever she was, it was cool but not cold. But the air was very still. Her nose stung
from the sterile antiseptic smell lingering in the air. Other than herself, there was no
other scents in the air.

*They must've cleaned the place thoroughly.*

She could hear nothing outside the place she was locked in, except the soft distant
murmur of machinery at work. Finally, she opened her eyes and was surprised to find
herself in total darkness.

*What the —*

McKennitt sat up, unfolding her limbs. She grunted in pain as her head bumped against
the top and knocked her toes against the side. Stretching out her arms, she cautiously
felt the walls enclosed all around her. Her throat began to constrict as the realisation
dawned rapidly upon her.

A black box.

She was locked in a goddamned black box.

Inhaling a deep breath to steady her nerves, McKennitt immediately concentrated on
finding a way out of the black box. There was no way she's going to be imprisoned in
one of these contraptions.

Light suddenly streamed through the rows of tiny air-holes near the top of the black
box. McKennitt gasped in pain, covering her sensitive eyes from the sudden brilliance.
It was a while before her eyes could adjust to the light.

There was a tap on the roof of the black box.

"Hello, Jamie." A genteel voice spoke from outside, muffled somewhat by the black
box.

She froze, recognising that voice. "Hell of a way to free your man, Dylan." She
managed to say calmly. "Letting a berserker loose in the airport, I mean."

"It sure got your attention, didn't it? And I bet your grandfather's as well."

"There're less costly ways of getting our attention, you know." She said
conversationally, still cautiously feeling the edges of the black box for the opening.

"You can stop searching for the way out, Jamie. There isn't any." *Damn him, he
must've read my mind.*

"Very useful skill to have," the Boss laughed, proving beyond doubt that he could read
her mind.

"What did you do? Bolt me inside this black box?" Sarcasm dripped from McKennitt's
words.

"Something like that."

"What do you want?"

"Payback. Vengeance is a better word though. You cost me several millions when you
busted that shipment yesterday. It doesn't make me happy."

"It makes me happy," she retorted. "So is this your idea of punishment? I must say I'm
disappointed. I expect more from you."

"Don't be impatient," she could hear the smirk in his voice. "The best has yet to
come."

McKennitt bit her lips, not liking the sound of that. She did not say anything as she
listened to the departing footsteps of the Boss. Once she was sure he was gone, she
began to seek the opening of the black box. This time, more urgently.

Whatever the Boss had in mind for her, she's sure as hell didn't want to stay around
for it.

* * *

It was hours later when Blair reached Simon's office. Jim and Ariel were already there,
apparently in the middle of some discussion. They looked up when he entered.

"Rafe's going to be all right," he replied in answer to their unspoken concern.
"Brown's with him right now. The last I saw before I left Rafe's place was Brown
actually cooking lunch for him. He may have to visit the department psychologist a few
times, but he's going to be fine."

Simon was relieved. "That's good news."

"I'll set up an appointment for him," Ariel stated.

"Anything so far?" Blair perched himself on the edge of the conference table beside
Jim, ignoring Simon's disapproving frown.

"The analysis on the Golden just came back from the lab." Jim handed a folder over to
his partner. "It's a different strain of the drug, all right."

Blair flipped open the folder. "How different?"

"All the ingredients used to make Golden were same," Simon said, "but there was one
additional item. Rohypnol."

"The date rape drug?"

Simon leaned back in his chair, clamping a cigar between his teeth. "The lab thinks that
when used together with Golden, there's a very short and almost mild withdrawal
period."

"Which means the user would recover more quickly," Ariel elaborated, "and able to
easily hide the fact he's abusing drug. This way, you've a long-time user who's able to
earn money and still support his habit. Something about the Golden negates
Rohypnol's withdrawal effect to almost zero."

"The user-friendly drug," Simon stated sourly.

"On the other hand, the user would've to lock himself alone in a room when taking the
Golden." Jim continued. "Rohypnol intensifies the effect of alcohol and other drugs,
but at the same time causes temporary amnesia and loss of motor skills. The user
would basically become very dependent and vulnerable to all kinds of attacks. So when
the user's feeling the effects of Golden more intensively, he's also open to all kinds of
advances."

"But it's a price they're willing to pay for that brief period of 'ecstasy'," Ariel
commented sarcastically.

"And the Boss is peddling this on the streets?" Blair was appalled and more than a little
frightened.

"He's selling it cheap and promoting the drug like a damned businessman," Simon
growled.

"Jim, if this shit hits the university — "

"I know, Chief. We'll stop it somehow." Jim squeezed his partner's shoulder
reassuringly.

Blair centred himself with an effort. They're going to stop the Boss; Jim will stop the
Boss. He knew his Sentinel would not let this drug hit the streets if he has anything to
say about it. He took up another folder.

"What about the massacre and McKennitt's disappearance?"

"We finally got a positive ID on the shooter. His name is Thomas Dwight," Jim
replied. "Works as at the Cascade National Bank. His wife reported him missing three
days ago."

"Three days ago?" Ariel interrupted. "That means he's been planning this for quite
some time already."

Blair understood instantly what was going through her mind. "So there's no way it
could be a retaliation for yesterday's bust."

"He must've been planning to free Fillmore all this while," Ariel chewed her lips
thoughtfully.

"But how did he know McKennitt was replacing Brown?"

"Maybe he didn't, Chief." said Jim. "Maybe he just saw the opportunity and grab it.
For all we know, he could've killed her already for the bust yesterday."

Ariel shook her head. "That's not his style. The Boss's idea of punishment tends to be
rather elaborate."

"Hold it." They all started in surprise and stared at the scowling Simon seated behind
his desk. He had been so quiet that they nearly forgot he was there. "Who is this 'he'
we're talking about?"

"The Boss, who else?" Blair answered, surprised.

"Why are you so convinced that it was him who kidnapped McKennitt? After all,
whoever freed Fillmore could be working for someone else."

"No, I don't think so," Jim replied. "This feels like his style."

"Jim, you've only one run-in with the Boss. What made you so certain it was him?"
Jim only looked at the captain, the rather bleak look in his eyes startling the big burly
captain. "All right. I'll take your word for it."

"Thank you, sir. So what we have now is a massacre which turned out to be a
distraction, McKennitt kidnapped and Fillmore free, and an enemy who manufactures
Golden."

"Golden is rare, right?" Ariel spoke up. "He'll needs a pretty high-tech kind of place to
manufacture it."

"I had a meeting with one of my informers this morning," Jim added. "He told me that
there were rumours of the Boss having his drug lab based in the wild."

"But that would make it nearly impossible to find," Simon pointed out. "Not to say a
very inconvenient place for a manufacturing lab."

"Inconvenient, yes. But still feasible," Jim countered. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"When I was stranded in Peru, I helped the Chopec to destroy a drug lab near their
borders. The drug lords were making cocaine, not Golden. But believe me, with the
kind of set-up they possessed, they wouldn't have any problem manufacturing
Golden."

"So our best bet would be to find the most suitable locations in the forests. Near the
city but not so near that anyone could find it." Simon got up from his chair, went to the
door and called for Taggart.

"Yes, sir?" The portly captain entered the office.

"Taggart, I've a task for you." Quickly, he outlined what he wanted the ex-Bomb
Squad captain to do. "Get Brown and Rafe. I know one's sick and the other's probably
still shaken, but I need all the manpower I can get."

"No problem, Simon. They'll understand."

"Thanks, Joel." Blair said.

"Hey, we look after our own," Joel replied. He directed a reassuring smile at Ariel.
"Don't worry, Doctor. We'll get her back."

Ariel was utterly grateful. And her expression showed it, even though she said nothing.

Simon's phone rang. Snatching it up, the captain listened to it. After a while, he hung
up. "Narcotics just received an anonymous tip about another Golden exchange going
down at the docks in four hours. Lieutenant Baron's requesting Major Crimes'
presence, since the case belonged to us."

"So what are we waiting for?" Blair questioned eagerly.

"What about Jamie?" Ariel burst out. "We're not going to just leave her like that, are
we?"

Simon's glare softened when he beheld the fretting woman. "No, we're not, Doctor. If
this bust goes successfully, hopefully we'll be able to dig up more information about
the whereabouts of the drug lab, therefore her location as well."

* * *

Jim threw his third curious glance in Blair's direction. For the last four hours, the
younger man had been more or less preoccupied. It didn't take a genius to see that he
was turning a puzzle over in his mind. Jim didn't get a chance to ask him, as he was
busy co-ordinating the bust. But now, as they travelled to the docks in the Expedition,
he decided it was high time.

"What's eating you, Chief?"

"Huh?" Blair looked away from the window distractedly.

"You look as though something's bothering you," Jim explained. "Care to tell me
about it?"

"Well, it's a highly debatable question." Blair fell silent, clearly trying to come to a
decision. Finally, he twisted around in his seat to face Ariel sitting quietly in the back
seat. "Ariel, correct me if I'm wrong, but a Sentinel and Guide are bonded, right?"

"Whoa. What are you getting at, Chief?"

"I'll explain later, Jim." Blair chastised patiently. "Now I need to hear her opinion."

"You're right," Ariel said simply.

"So if one's in trouble, the other will know at once, right?"

"Yeah."

"Sandburg, what are you trying to say?" Jim was getting uneasy. His Guide was
touching on a subject that he himself had pondered and came up with an answer he
didn't want anyone to know, not even Blair.

Blair, oblivious to Jim's discomfort, pressed on eagerly. "I know this is going to sound
crazy, but what if, what if both could use this bond to locate the other? Is that
possible?"

"I know what you're getting at, and you're right. I could've easily track Jamie down
by our bond, instead of doing it the hard way. But I can't reach her." Ariel gestured,
trying to describe the sensation she was feeling. "She's all cut off from me. Vague and
formless. It's as though someone had pulled a veil over her presence in my mind. I can
barely sense her, much less talk to her."

"And the Boss did this?"

Ariel stared at him open-mouthed.

"He's a shaman, right? Like you?"

"H-how?" she stammered.

"Jim recognises a shaman when he sees one. He did spend all that time with the
Shaman of the Chopec tribe in Peru."

Ariel looked at Blair, then at Jim, and back at the observer. "Jamie was right," she said
finally. "The both of you see too much."

"Why are you so concerned about what we know?" Jim asked. "I know J.E. was lying
to me when she told me all these shit happening are recorded events."

"We have to," replied Ariel. "Our survival's at stake every moment we spent in the
past. Please don't ask me anymore, okay?"

Jim noticed her elevated responses, indicating stress, and decided to let go. For the
moment, anyway. He wasn't done with the questioning, not by a long shot.

* * *

For the hundredth time, McKennitt tried to shift her position to relieve her cramped
back. Muttering a curse when her head bumped the side of the black box. It was
getting very uncomfortable in the black box. Outside they had shut off the light again,
leaving her in total darkness.

McKennitt drew in another deep breath, fighting to keep the panic from welling up. It
was so dark in here, so dark and so suffocating. She was starting to see things;
frightening things in her own mind. Biting her lips, she dug her nails into her palms; the
brief spasm of pain clearing her mind somewhat. But she knew it wouldn't work
forever, as the agony of being cramped up in the black box grew greater.

//Ariel,// she called out, seeking for her Guide's reassuring mental presence.

* * *

Ariel stiffened when she heard the faint call in her mind. //Jamie?//

In the rear view mirror, she could see Jim's gaze falling on her sharply. But she was
too busy trying to make contact with her missing Sentinel to care about that.

//Jamie? Where are you? Can you hear me?// she asked anxiously. //Jamie!//

* * *

McKennitt slumped, giving up. All the mental seeking was only giving her a headache.

Ariel was still there, but she was a veiled and muffled presence. Someone was blocking
their bond as much as he could, and he was succeeding.

She closed her eyes and prayed. *Come get me, pagan. This time, I need the rescuing.*

* * *

"You look a little distracted," Jim told Ariel.

"I felt Jamie calling out for me," she explained fretfully. "But I still can't reach her."
She suddenly banged her fists against the back of Jim's seat, startling the detective. "I
hate this!"

"Don't take it out on the truck," Blair said, trying for levity. "It hadn't done anything
to you to deserve this."

"Neither had Jamie done anything to deserve being put through hell," Ariel retorted
sharply.

"Sorry," Blair apologised. Then he became stern, deciding if being a friend wouldn't
work, perhaps being a grandfather would. "But you're not helping matters by freaking
out. You know that, young lady."

"My head knows that," Ariel replied gloomily. "But tell it to my heart!"

* * *

Fillmore's leg was bandaged and he had changed into a new suit before he felt like
himself again. But it was hours before he worked up the courage to go see the Boss.
His blunders weighed heavily on his mind. He knew that he was partially to be blamed
for the prisoners' escape and the Boss's failure to eliminate that detective Ellison. He
was determined to make up for those mistakes and regain the Boss's favours.

"Enter, Fillmore."

Somewhat warily, Fillmore entered the Boss's office. Unlike the study in his mansion,
the Boss's office in the drug lab was sparse and unadorned. The Boss himself was
seated in his chair, twirling a pen about his fingers, studying his laptop.

"What is it, Fillmore?"

Fillmore cleared his throat nervously. "I just want to say thank you, Boss. For getting
me out. I never doubted you."

The Boss's gaze never moved from the screen of his laptop. "You're loyal to me.
Loyalty's a valuable commodity these days. How's your leg?"

"It's just a graze. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm glad. Because I've a task for you."

Fillmore brightened. Maybe this was the chance the Boss was giving him to make up
for his blunders.

"Go back to Cascade. I need you to keep an eye on a certain group of people. You
can't miss them." The Boss scribbled something on a slip of paper and gave it to him.
"Here's the address. Report in personally to me every six hours. Is that clear,
Fillmore?"

"Yes, Boss."

"Now leave me."

Fillmore wisely left the Boss's office without further question. Privately, he was kinda
crestfallen. It was clear that the Boss still blame him for his blunders. This lowly
assignment was proof of that. Fillmore grimaced at the slip of paper he held, then
tucked it away.

There has got to be some way to regain the Boss's favour.

* * *

Jim's Expedition was parked behind a container box a discreet distance away from the
targeted warehouse. From here, the detective would have a clear view of anyone
entering the warehouse. From the back seat, Ariel handed out the kevlar vests they
brought with them.

Blair squirmed in his seat, struggling to fit into his. "I really hate this," he groused
under his breath.

"It may just save your life, Chief." Jim said absently, easily strapped on his while
observing the dock from his vantage point.

"What did you see?" the observer asked softly.

"Nothing yet." Jim put on his combination headset. "Simon, you read?"

"Loud and clear, Jim. Anything?"

"Negative."

They waited in silence. SWAT personnel and Narcotic cops were hidden throughout
the dock. All of them waiting for the exchange to take place. There was no sign of the
drug dealers anywhere.

Four o'clock came and went.

Blair was beginning to get fidgety in his seat. All these waiting was getting to him.
Behind him, Ariel drummed her fingers on the back of Jim's seat in an unconscious
nervous rhythm until the detective could not take it anymore. He twisted around in his
seat, pinning the department psychologist with an annoyed look.

"Do you mind?"

Ariel was bewildered. "What?"

Jim indicated her fingers with his gaze. "That drumming. It's getting on my nerves."

Abashed, Ariel folded her hands in her lap. "Sorry."

Jim turned back around, just in time to see a black sedan with tinted windows cruised
into the dock. It was soon followed by a white van, similar to the white van he had
chased yesterday. He tensed, straightening in his seat.

"Is it them?" Blair asked, noticing his alert poise.

"We'll know in a minute," Jim muttered. He watched intently as the two vehicles rolled
into the warehouse, the huge doors sliding shut behind them. The detective reached for
his Jags cap, tugging it over his head. "I'm going in for a closer look."

"Be careful, okay?" Blair warned. "No telling what kind of guards they have."

"I'll be fine." Jim slid out of his Expedition, pausing to shake a warning finger at the
passengers within. "Stay put, the both of you. I don't want to see even your shadows
near there. Clear?"

"As crystal," replied Blair glumly.

They watched in silence as Jim stealthily made his way over to the warehouse. For a
long moment, he hunched beneath an open window. Then he vanished around the side.

Now it was Blair's turn to drum his fingers on the dashboard, nervously gnawing his
lower lip. There was a bad feeling in his gut about this drug deal, a really bad feeling.
He glanced sidelong at Ariel. A similar anxious expression was mirrored on her face.
Then she noticed his glance.

"Worried?" she asked with a faint smile.

"Anxious," Blair turned to look out of the window. "I really hate this."

"Me too."

"I'm his Guide. He needs me to cover his back. That's what we do."

"I know."

They exchanged another look. Then in unison, they reached a decision and quietly
stepped out of the Expedition. Quickly, they scurried for the closest cover and peered
over the edge at the warehouse.

"Jim's going to kill me," Blair muttered.

"If it's any comfort, Jamie'll kill me too when she finds out."

"I guess that's what Sentinels are for," he joked.

"I don't know. Could be an Ellison quirk."

Inside the warehouse, Jim couldn't help but sigh in exasperation when he overheard
the conversation. He knew his Guide all too well; Blair almost never listen to him.

Bringing his mind back on the task at hand, the detective peered over a pile of sacks
containing coffee beans. A group of well-dressed men had alighted from both vehicles
and were standing around in a circle. There were clearly two leaders, both Jim
identified by their confident stance. From where he was, he had a good view of the
drug exchange about to take place. Jim crouched quietly, watching patiently for the
moment to signal the cops to bust the exchange.

A henchman nodded to his leader. As though taking that as a signal, the leader reached
into his breast pocket and took out...a dog whistle?

The realisation hit Jim a split second too late. Clamping his hands over his ears, Jim
recoiled as the very high-pitched sound pierced his head like a skewer. The dog whistle
played hell with his hearing and equilibrium. All sense of balance fled him; Jim tumbled
from his hiding place, hitting the ground curled in a foetal position, hands
unsuccessfully trying to block out the torturous sound.

The leader, still blowing the dog whistle, motioned to his henchmen. Several of them
ran forward quickly. One of them hit Jim over the head, sending him into
unconsciousness. The leader stopped blowing his dog whistle, watching silently as they
gathered and carried the unconscious detective over to the white van.

Still eerily silent, the men quickly went to their vehicles. One of them paused to
activate a bomb, placing it carefully in the centre of the warehouse, before climbing
into the sedan. Immediately, the sedan spun round and sped after the fleeing van,
heading straight for the opening warehouse doors.

"Look out!" Blair yelled, tackling Ariel to safety as the two vehicles sped past them by
bare inches. At once, he leapt back onto his feet and sprinted after the disappearing
vehicles.

"JIM!" He didn't know how he knew, but his partner was in one of the two escaping
vehicles and in deep trouble. "JJIIMM!"

The explosion flung him a far distance away, throwing him hard against a parked
loader. It practically deafened him and lit up the overcast sky, spewing debris
everywhere. He laid where he fell, totally disoriented, as he stared up at the sky.

"Gramps! Gramps!" Ariel practically flung herself at him, eyes wide with horror. "Oh
my God, are you all right?"

Blair sat up slowly with her gentle help. "I'm fine," he winced, feeling as though his
head had swelled. "Ooh, my head."

"You hit it when you slammed against that loader." Ariel carefully felt the bump on the
back of his head.

Blair sat quietly, feeling a tingle as Ariel let her healing influence flow. In a moment, he
felt as good as new.

"Blair!" Simon came running up to them, a worried look on his face. "You all right,
kid?"

"I'm fine, Simon." Blair brushed off the captain's concern, his mind returning to his
one worry. "But Jim."

Simon was sorrowful. "I'm sorry, kid. There's no way he could've survive that blast."

"He wasn't in there."

"What?"

"The drug dealers." Blair tugged urgently at the captain's sleeve, trying to pull him to
the Expedition. "They took him. I don't know how, but he was with them. Come on,
Simon. We got to get him back."

Simon dug his heels in. "Sandburg, they're long gone by now."

"Simon —"

"I've an APB out for them. We'll find him."

"Simon —"

"Don't go chasing after them half-cocked, Sandburg. It's not going to do him any
good."

"Remember who you're dealing with, Blair." Ariel said softly.

He blanched.

Simon stared intently at Ariel, then at Blair. Finally he stuck his cigar between his lips
and put his fists on his hips.

"All right, I've had enough. One of you better tell me WHAT IN THE NAME OF
GOD IS GOING ON AROUND HERE?!"

_____________________________________________________________________

Go to Part Two