BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
Chapter Four
Never one to sit patiently in a queue when there was a more energetic alternative, Don Flack swerved through the rush-hour traffic, making excellent progress and feeling very smug about it. In his rear view mirror, he could still see the Avalanche and its driver, close behind him all the way like a gun dog at his heels. "Nice goin', Ross," he whistled. Adam's shoulders were hunched and his face was rigid with determination as he shadowed the detective's every move. Turning slightly in his seat, Flack lifted one hand from the steering wheel and offered him a merry wave. Adam muttered something in response but kept his own hands exactly where they were. Flack guessed that they were as good as welded in the 'nine and three' position right about now. For a quirky man, Adam was also, oddly, something of a stickler for the rules.
The riot at the precinct. That was when Flack had truly begun to question his assumptions about the comical-lab-tech-turned-CSI. Even now, almost a year later, he could still remember the disbelief - no, the shock - of seeing Adam Ross walk through the front door, having passed unscathed, by his own volition, through the angry hordes. For several weeks after, Flack's jaw had literally dropped whenever he thought about it. Twitchy or not, the guy had stones. And now he had the out-and-out respect of Detective Don Flack.
Which did not mean, of course, that a little bit of friendly teasing was off the table. Adam was just too easy. Taking advantage of him was an obligation, really. At least, that was how Danny always seemed to justify his humorous dealings with his hapless colleague.
And clearly, Mac himself was not above a sneaky move or two. Take this morning's crime scene. Don gave a wide grin of anticipation at the thought of Adam's face in about (he checked his watch) fifteen minutes, give or take a handy parking space.
-x0x-
Being inside the lobby of High Wire Inc. ("We're Out There") made Adam feel as though he were standing at the centre of an optical illusion. High above his head, a spiral balcony rose ever upwards, shrinking in upon itself with each new twist and turn until it spun right out of sight through a bright point of light that could almost be Heaven itself, it seemed so far away. Adam's head was spinning too by now and he dropped his gaze quickly, choosing instead to focus on the giant Christmas tree nearby. Some logistical elf must have snapped his fingers to make it appear, because there was no real way that it could ever have come through the same revolving door that had just sent Adam and Flack stumbling into the building. Dancing clockwork snowflakes hung from every bough and a golden angel waved a benevolent hand from the pinnacle, three storeys up. About their feet, a miniature army of toys marched back and forth on the polished floor, their movements preordained by their circuits and the clever minds of the overgrown children by whom - and for whom - they had been created.
"I like this place," Adam muttered, nudging a little red soldier aside with the toe of his sneaker. "Kind of feels like the inside of my head sometimes, you know?"
"Hold that thought," Flack told him with the same annoying smile that he had worn in the locker room back at the crime lab.
"Police?" said a clear voice. A sharp pair of heels stabbed their way across the lobby, bearing their owner with pride - an impressive-looking woman in a pale blue suit. Her angular glasses were equally sharp, which gave the impression of a narrowed pair of eyes and an icy glare. Adam fell back slightly. Flack was unperturbed.
"Mrs Everard." His confidence was enviable. "Thanks for meeting us."
"Anything to get this... unfortunate business over with as soon as possible."
How was it, Adam wondered, that some people felt no shame in reducing death to the level of an inconvenience?
"Did you know the victim well?" he asked pointedly.
"Not really." The Ice Queen shrugged her padded shoulders. "These young men - the engineers and scientists that work here - they all look alike to me." She fixed him with her disconcerting stare. Like you, it seemed to say. "'I use 'work' in the loosest sense of the word, you understand me?" she continued. One long heel swept back and a tiny mechanical reindeer went flying through the air. "Daydreams and foolishness."
Indignation on behalf of his kind bubbled up inside Adam but he held his tongue, trusting that Flack would take the lead. Withering scorn or a blistering comment - the man was a master of both.
As it turned out, Flack was also pretty good at using silence as a weapon. Ignoring Mrs Everard's opinion altogether, he folded his arms across his chest and waited. Her narrow eyes contracted even further and a deep line appeared between her eyebrows.
"Follow me," she said at last, smoothing over her defeat with the coldest of smiles.
They kept pace with her brisk strides all the way to the glass-fronted elevator that had just dropped down to the lobby from the dizzying heights above.
"In there?" Adam's voice was wary.
"We have stairs - but the seventeenth floor is a long way up. I'm sorry; do you have some kind of phobia?" the Ice Queen challenged him.
"Um - no." And he didn't; not really, but something about this place - no, this whole day - was starting to make him feel quite strange. I'm tired, he said to himself. That's all.
Shifting the weight of his kit, which was cutting his palm in half by now, he shoved his free hand into his pocket. The glass doors closed in front of him, almost chopping off his nose. Adam swallowed and stared at his feet as he tried to concentrate on something a little more cheerful.
Michelle. Even when she wasn't there, the image of her warm face could fill him with such delight...
Adam's fingers found the ring and clenched around it tightly.
Would she accept his proposal? Could he picture his life without her, now that she was such a vital part of it? The risk was enormous - but the stubborn side of Adam knew that he was going to take the chance. What kind of coward would he be if he couldn't even bring himself to ask her? "Mrs Ross," he murmured, ever so quietly, out of Flack's ear-shot - or so he thought.
"Say what?" The detective turned to stare at him.
Adam jumped... and the ring fell out of his hand, twisting right there in his pocket until somehow - by chance or ill-natured design - it found its way onto his finger.
And there it stuck fast.
"You okay?" Flack persisted. He frowned. "You're not gonna be sick, are you?"
Mrs Everard let out a snort of disgust at the very suggestion.
"No! of course not," Adam gasped, feeling so far beyond 'strange' by now that he was almost floating. "Look, we're here!" The elevator shuddered to a halt and the doors re-opened. He leapt out and feigned politeness, waiting for Flack and the Ice Queen to pass him by. Then he tagged along at their heels, pulling hard at the ring until his little finger ached and beads of sweat began to pop out all over his brow.
Impossible, he thought. If the ring slipped on then, by rights, it should slip off just as easily. How could it be stuck? He tugged even harder, grunting with the strain.
Flack threw him a curious look and then ducked beneath the black-and-yellow tape that marked the entrance to their crime scene. Holding the centre of the tape at shoulder height, he waited for Adam to follow. The smile was back upon his face but Adam was far too flustered to wonder why.
He ducked... and straightened... and paused in dismay. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" he groaned.
"There it is," Flack muttered.
The room was a large white lab, its edges well-ordered and lined with steel benches full of expensive equipment. There, however, all perfection ended. In the centre was a broken body, stained with blood and, spiralling outwards around it, what could only be described as an explosion of shattered technology; circuit boards and wires, pipes and switches... This was going to be the rest of Adam's day; no doubt about it.
"What happened?" he said to the officer who had been first on the scene, and who hovered nearby.
"Ask these clowns," the officer sighed, pointing to a sullen-looking pair lurking in the corner. "According to them, the whole thing was self-defence. Miles - that's the victim, Miles Cantrell - he went kinda crazy."
"Destroyed our whole project," one of the young men put in. His tone was belligerent and his dark eyes burned with anger. "That's a whole year's work down the can."
"Finn," the other man warned him, laying a bruised hand on his arm. "He's lying right there, okay? Show some respect."
His friend shrugged off the warning hand and fell into a brooding silence.
As Flack stepped over to question them further and the Ice Queen vanished as smoothly as she had appeared, Adam set down his kit and approached the edge of the technological 'blast zone'. "What about the victim?" he asked. Two dead bodies in one day - fantastic. At least Old Abe had looked peaceful in death. Poor Miles Cantrell had a look of terror on his face that spoke of a violent end.
"Best clear a path, quick smart. The ME's on his way."
Very helpful. Adam shook his head and crouched down, snapping on his gloves and trying to ignore the ring that was still lodged firmly on his finger. A bar of soap should solve that little problem later. Right now, he needed to work. The challenge was huge - but it was also quite appealing. Joke or not, his boss knew that Adam could do this all by himself, and that was a mark of respect which made him feel warm inside. He smiled as he picked up the first piece of debris, turning the circuit board round in his hands in order to study it.
Curious.
Setting it down again carefully, he selected a strip of wire instead and examined that too, followed by a second circuit board. Then he gazed out across the whole scene, deep in thought. Moments later, he shook his head. "Um - Flack?" he ventured.
The detective paused mid-sentence. "Now?"
"Yes, now." When he wanted to, Adam knew how to be firm. Flack caught his tone and hurried over.
"What's the matter?"
"This whole crime scene - something's wrong."
Flack crouched down beside him and continued in a whisper.
"What do you mean?"
Picking up the nearest piece of debris, Adam showed it to his colleague. "See this? It's pristine, okay? Like it's never been used. So's this wire - and this pipe here. Now, take a look at the whole set-up. Doesn't it seem - well, staged to you?"
"So - what?" Flack's face was eager as he worked through the logic of Adam's discovery. "These are all just spare parts? Scattered after the fact?"
Adam nodded. "What's the betting their precious invention is hidden safely in a cupboard somewhere?"
Flack rose to his feet and turned to glare at the two men behind him. "Is he right?"
Finn looked shifty. His friend, meanwhile, had seen which way the wind was blowing. Darting sideways, he broke through the tape and disappeared. With a jolt of understanding, Finn picked up his heels and sped after him.
"Hey!" Flack yelled. Both he and the officer took off in pursuit.
Should I follow them? Adam wondered. Curiosity won the day and he hurried to the doorway, peering out into the open corridor, with its staggering view of the lobby far below.
Heading one way, the officer chased Finn round the balcony. A reckless dive brought his prey to the floor, out of sight and hopefully under control.
Flack was not so lucky.
Racing in the opposite direction, his long legs soon closed the gap - but just as he reached out to grab the fleeing scientist, the young man stopped dead in his tracks and pushed - sending Flack spinning over the rail. Then he fled.
Adam gave a wordless cry of fright.
Fighting with the tape, he darted from the room. "Please," he begged, finding his voice. "Please hold on!" He could see Flack's bone-white fingers clutching the rail, and slipping... slipping... Just in time, he reached the spot and grabbed at the man with his own shaking hands. Glove circled wrist, and he held on for dear life, pulled over by Flack's weight until his own feet rose from the floor. He tried not to look at the distant lobby, or the tiny dot that was the angel on the Christmas tree. Instead, he focussed on Flack's face. Never before had he seen such horror in a person's eyes. Flack knew. He knew he was going to die. Adam's strength, such as it was, could never hold him.
"Please don't... give up!" Adam wished that he had thought to remove his gloves. The latex mashed against his sweaty palms and he could feel Flack sliding from his grip, inch by terrifying inch.
"Not your fault," the detective gasped.
"Yes, it is!" The words were wrenched from his throat as he pulled even harder. "Oh, God... I can't... I wish... I could!"
And that was when it happened.
Pain - the sharpest pain that he had ever felt - sliced through his finger and he screamed. As it died away, a stinging heat spread out across his whole hand, up his arm and through his body. Adam closed his eyes and fought against it, refusing to let his grip loosen - yet, all of a sudden, both hands were empty. His eyes flew open. "Flack!" he screamed; far too afraid to look over the rail and watch the tumbling body of the man whose life he had failed to save...
"I'm here," said a weary voice.
Ice-water ran down his spine. Adam froze.
"Wh-what?"
"I'm here, Ross. Dammit, you're stronger than you look!"
Out of nowhere, there were people all around them; hands reaching out, voices offering sympathy - and congratulations. Adam's head spun. Dazed and shaking, he stared at Flack in bewilderment. The detective sat back against the balcony, breathing hard. "Thank you," he murmured faintly. "God... thank you."
"Oh," Adam said in a whisper. "Okay..."
What on earth had just happened?
-x0x-
A/N: An early update, as requested! Merry Christmas! More soon...
