Cascade City/County Detention Center

Control Room/Command Central

10:48 hours

//Hey, Chica!//

Stacie Harrington's eyes narrowed at the words coming over her intercom. Putting as much calm into her voice as possible, she depressed the speaker key. "What, Martinez?"

//The Commander made it back yet? I'm getting really bored here and may just have to find some way to entertain myself.// Even as he spoke, Rikky was running his homemade knife along the jaw line of John Cartwright.

"He just came in. Sergeant Camryne is briefing him now." As she watched the monitor, Rikky switched his attentions over to Brodie Harris, and she could see a line of blood welling up behind the knife as he slowly dragged the blade across Harris' face.

//Ah, that's good, Chica! You tell him that I'm getting impatient and wish to speak to him now, or I'll slit one of these nice throats I have here.//

Stacie snapped off the intercom in disgust, just as someone touched her. Reacting on pure instinct, she lashed out, nearly taking out Blair who'd come up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She pulled her blow just in time to avoid hitting the man. "Sorry, Blair." Then she noticed his face and felt the anger rolling off him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Everything! Oh, shit, I'm not sure anymore!" He paced along the back wall of the control center, his anger and confusion evident to all who sat in the large room.

Taking a guess at what was bothering the detective, Stacie nodded to one of her fellow monitor technicians, one who had also been speaking with the inmates of Cellblock #4. "Tony, take over for me. I'll be right back." Grabbing up a portable radio from its charger base, she pulled on the upset man's arm until he stopped resisting and followed her.

Leading Blair from the room, she escorted him through the halls until they stepped outside the main entrance of the Detention Center into the chilly, drizzly spring morning. Stacie heard him take in a deep breath of the cool, moist air before he turned a remorseful, almost apologetic, face towards her. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to lose my cool back there."

Leaning up against the wall, one foot kicked up behind her to brace herself, Stacie smiled weakly at him. "Not a problem. I understand where the anger is coming from. If it's any consolation to you, I'm not too thrilled with the plan myself."

Blair snorted. "Really? I couldn't tell." Stacie glared at him, not appreciating the sarcasm in his tone; the expression on her face must have worked. "Sorry, putting my foot in my mouth again."

Letting out a sigh of disgust, she shook her head. "Oh, it's not you, Blair. Just my past coming back to haunt me."

"Why? What is it?" A look of concern fluttered over the detective's face as she tried to block out the memories flooding to the surface. "Stacie? Is this about Sec-Op Six?" Gods, Blair's voice was soft, pleading, almost wheedling as he quietly intruded in on her thoughts.

"Yeah." She dropped her eyes, not wanting him to see the pain that was floating too close to the surface for her own comfort.

"Can you tell me?"

"I've seen it in action. It was, to put it mildly, messy."

"Where?"

Stacie snorted in disdain, "Can't tell you. It's still under investigation, seven years after the fact, and the Corps still hasn't come to a conclusion."

"The Corps? You were a Marine?"

"Ages ago. Boggles the mind, doesn't it?"

Blair shook his head. "Not really. Jim's former Army. Rangers. I've been around him long enough to know a former military person when I see the way they carry themselves."

"Thanks. I think." She was about to ask him for more information on his partner when her radio squawked at her.

//Stacie? We need you in Control now. Lieutenant's about to go into operation.//

Lifting the radio to her mouth, she answered, "Copy, Tony. Don't let them in the back until I get there." Dropping the radio back to her side, she looked over at the detective. "So? You want to watch this go down in the Control Room? You'll have the best seats in the house, well, except for the Tac-Team."

She watched as his lithely built body shivered, either from the cool damp air or dread. She wasn't sure which. But his voice was strong as he nodded and answered her, "Yeah, I think I'd better."

"Let's go then."

Once again she led the way, making sure that the detective followed her, through the myriad of halls and into the Command Center, the true heart of the whole Detention Facility. She hated the plan, the SOP's that were the guidelines for such an event, but it was her job to make sure that the Tactical Teams were covered as best she could. Even if her gut was telling her that this wasn't the way, not the right way, to deal with the situation.

Cascade City/County Detention Center

Inside Cellblock 4

10:41 hours

His legs were starting to cramp, the knee that had been so viciously kicked out from under him throbbed in time with the beating of his heart, and his senses seemed intent on not listening to his mental commands. Jim Ellison tried, but couldn't tune out the sounds of the actions and words going on around him. He knelt on the hard concrete flooring, his hands secured in his own damn cuffs behind his head, his sentinel hearing kicking in and out.

//…Move it!//

//What the hell is going….//

Clang!

The soft touch of a hand on his shoulder brought him back from his auditory excursion.

"Ellison?"

"Jason."

The inmate looked back towards the table where Rikky Martinez and his group were quietly talking, then turned his gaze back to Jim. "Rikky said I could help you, if you need it." Jim watched as the man turned his attention back on the group of guards kneeling in a semi-circle, still keeping his voice low. "It's against regs, and I don't want to hear about it Harris, but I've squirreled away some aspirins if you need any, detective."

"Kilarney…" Brodie Harris started to protest, just as Jim tried to shift his weight again and had to bite back a pain filled groan. "Thanks. Can you get to them without too much trouble?"

He hated this. He'd been taught better -- never to show weakness, never show pain, but the years of being partnered with Sandburg and being a Sentinel had opened him up to a new world. Waiting until the informant left to go over to talk with Martinez, then enter his bunk area, Jim leaned closer to Harris. Keeping his voice low, he asked, "Harris? What is Commander Johansen likely to do in this situation?"

Brodie Harris shook his head. "I'm not real sure. Probably evacuate as many of the surrounding cellblocks as possible, then leave it up to the tactical team to see what they can do."

Eric Blevins, the youngest of the guards that had been on duty in Cellblock 4, moaned. "Oh, crap. We're dead."

The iceberg of dread that had been building in Jim's stomach lurched upwards. Looking at the redhead's face, seeing the certainty there, he asked, "What do you mean?"

Grass green orbs stared back at Jim from a rapidly paling face. His voice was shaky and Jim could hear fear in the three words that the guard spoke. "Sec-Op Six."

"Eric, you don't know that for fact," Brodie hissed at his fellow guard.

"I know Lt. James, Harris. He was always bragging about how he'd handle the order. He wants a chance to put it into action."

Keeping track of the quiet conversation between the two guards, Jim looked back over his shoulder to see Kilarney approaching. "Cool it, guys."

Jason had returned and was holding out his hand with two red and yellow gelcaps in it, gesturing helplessly. "Sorry, Ellison, but Rikky didn't want to let you loose." Jim nodded and allowed his jailhouse informant to drop the capsules into his mouth. He tried to dry swallow the pills, but he realized that Jason was also holding a small paper cup of tepid tap water steady so that Jim could chase the medication down with a sip. Jim swallowed the water and medication gratefully and nodded in thanks. Then the inmate squatted down beside him as if to talk with Jim, but Jason's eyes were on Harris. "Brodie, I don't think that Rikky is the one behind all this…"

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out. He's smart, but not that bright," the guard agreed.

Jason offered up his information. It wasn't much, but Jim was happy that at least he might have something to work with. "They clamed up when I approached them about the Tylenol, but I overheard a little bit. Not enough to make a difference, and I don't speak Spanish…"

Brodie's face lit up just a tad. "What did you hear?" Jason relayed the words in halting, broken Spanish. Jim's mind was working furiously on the translation and he noticed how Harris' expression changed. The sentinel couldn't blame him, if he had the gist of the translation correct.

"They're expecting Lt. James to pull something soon." Jim translated, and was rewarded with a look of shock on the guard's face. "My Spanish is a bit rusty…"

Harris shook his head. "No, you're right, Detective."

"What can you tell me about these inmates, Harris? What are we looking at here?" Jim needed to learn all he could, about his captors and the other inmates, to begin to plan a course of action.

"Jason, you might want to leave…"

"I already know about the charges against Rikky, Harris. But you're right, I'll leave you five to your chat." Jason Kilarney stood up, stretching his back, then returned to his previous position against the wall by his cell.

"Ellison," Brodie began in a soft voice. "Every single inmate in this cellblock is in here because they are either 'problem children' or because they've been charged with murder in some capacity."

"Kilarney?" Jim looked over at the jailhouse informant, already knowing that it was true.

"Yeah. Rikky's probably the worst, though. He's got no less than six charges he's facing."

"And the others?"

"Them too, but Guerruro? The short little bastard? He's the one to keep your eyes on. Hot tempered." Brodie cut off his explanation as Jim heard someone getting up from the table behind him

"YO! Harris! Shut your mouth!" Martinez. Damn.

Silence reigned in the cellblock once again and Jim sent his hearing out, trying to keep track of the rapid-fire conversation going on at the table behind him, as well as listening to the other sounds in the detention center. It was hard, the noises reminding him too much of the days that he'd spent undercover in Starksville. The only real difference this time was that the inmates here knew who, and what, he was. Sagging back to rest on his heels, he tried to focus on the one bright hope that he had left: Sandburg was safe on the other side of the walls. Then pain lanced through his lower back, as someone kicked him right over the kidneys, and he dropped to the floor. Twisting so that he wouldn't kiss the pavement, he saw the shortest of the captors standing over him. It was Guerruro, the one Harris had warned him about.

"Rikky didn't say you could relax, Ellison." The smile that crossed the inmate's face was one of pleasure as he reached down to haul him back onto his knees. "Don't move."

Staring daggers at the retreating back of the short, pock-faced man, Jim tried to block the pain flaring up his back. "Sonuvabitch." Pushing past the ringing in his ears, Jim barely heard the lock on the gate disengage just as the lock on the main door let go. Then he heard another sound coming from somewhere behind him, but just as he figured out where it was, it was too late.

Before he could call out a warning, he was blinded and deafened by no less than three rapid, yet small, explosions.