Author's Note: My writing time is dwindling, so I've been spending more time writing new stuff than editing. Hopefully you'll still enjoy the ride!
Chapter Four ~ One Time
Eliot relayed the details of that long night as a tactical debriefing. He shared none of his emotions, none of the color, and very little dialog. But looking around at the disbelieving expressions on their faces, he wondered if he'd let something slip.
"What?" he asked defensively.
"That's it?" Parker asked.
"Yeah, that's it," Eliot replied.
"You two just drove off into the sunset?" Parker whined.
"Well, yeah" Eliot said, "Right after the explosion…"
"Explosion?" Sopie exclaimed.
Eliot leaned back in his seat. "Yeah, we're finally driving away from the place and she hits the brakesand gives me this look. Then she pulls out the lipstick, gives it a twist, and bombs start going off. It was…" Eliot smiled, "amazing."
Hardison's jaw dropped open. "And you didn't sleep with her?" Eliot frowned at him. "Cuz I'm just saying she sounds like the perfect woman for you."
Eliot prepared to verbally skewer Hardison, but Nate interrupted, "So, she did come back for you."
"Yeah, I like to think so."
"You said you've run into her two times," Sophie prompted.
"Yeah, and you haven't explained the nickname yet," Parker added.
Nate interrupted again, "I'm sure Eliot is dying to share more with us, but we're going to be on the ground in 45 minutes and we need to decide how to proceed." He turned his attention to Eliot. "So her call… it was a code?"
Eliot nodded. "Yeah, after our second… uh…" Eliot had trouble finding an appropriate word, "… episode, she came up with this protocol…"
"Protocol?" Nate interrupted. "She used that word?"
Eliot nodded, "Yeah, I know, she was probably a spy… Anyway, we set up this protocol and did the transponders…"
"Transponders?" Hardison interrupted, emphasizing the 's'. "You've got one too?"
Eliot exhaled sharply and served up his best withering look, "Yeah."
"Good to know," Hardison smiled. "Good to know."
"Anyway," Eliot continued, "the first part of her message about needing a tow… she was telling me she needed a rescue. Me asking the location wasn't really code – it was the way we were going to communicate general location. And me asking about onStar was to figure out if it was safe to activate the transponder."
"And the detail on the car?" Nate asked.
Eliot shrugged. "Dunno. My guess is she's actually got a car parked at Michigan and Randolph with something valuable in it."
"But if it's really an STS, it really does have onStar and can easily be tracked," Hardison pointed out.
"My guess is that she's disabled it," Eliot said.
"Okay," Nate said, turning to Hardison, "Any luck in narrowing down Mickey?"
"Yeah, right," Hardison said, looking down at the computer on his lap and running his finger over the touch pad. "There's hundreds of thousands of Mickeys in the Chicagoland area. There's Mickey's Bar, Mickey's Barber Shop, Mickey's House of Chow, etcetera." He looked up. "The only Chicago Mickey in any of the government databases is Mickey Hart, an alderman, who knowing Illinois politics, is almost certainly dirty."
All eyes turned to Eliot. "Think that's a possibility?" Nate asked.
"I have no idea what she might be into," Eliot said. "I honestly don't know much about her."
Nate scrutinized him with his cool blue eyes. Finally Nate turned back to Hardison. "You never ran into or heard of a Mickey while working out of Chicago?"
"Nope, never."
They sat in silence for a few moments. Hardison broke it, "You want me to look into Mickey Hart?"
"No, let's wait and see if she's left us anything in the car," Nate replied. He leaned forward addressing Sophie, Parker, and Hardison. "Once we land, you three rent a car and go find that STS. Eliot and I will retrieve the girl. We'll meet back at Hardison's place."
Everybody nodded except Eliot. "It's too dangerous, Nate. I'll go after Loki alone."
Nate looked at him. "I'll drive, you do all the tough stuff." Eliot continued to frown. "You don't know what kind of condition she'll be in, Eliot. You may need an extra set of hands."
Eliot studied Nate's face for a moment. "Any way I can talk you out of this?"
"No," Nate answered without hesitation.
"Then fine. Whatever."
=-=-=
It was close to midnight by the time they neared the waterfront in the rented van. Eliot typed the code into his phone, and within a few moments a GPS grid appeared with a flashing red dot. Relief fell on him like a rainforest shower. She was close. Or at least her body was close.
That thought brought an abrupt end to his rainforest shower.
"I didn't think you were much of a tech guy," Nate commented.
"I'm not. This was all her idea," he said, glancing at Nate. "I had Hardison move the app to the new phone for me."
"He never mentioned it to me," Nate said.
"Yeah, well, I used my special growl."
Nate smiled and Eliot returned his attention to the GPS. "Okay, turn right here and park next to that building. I'll take the rest on foot."
Eliot pulled on his black stocking cap as he waited for Nate to park. He set the phone on the dash in Nate's view, opened the door and had a foot on the asphalt when Nate stopped him.
"Hey! Take this!" Nate snapped, holding out his open palm.
"Yeah, right," Eliot said, plucking the communication device from Nate's hand. As he pushed it into his ear, he said, "Don't expect me to be real talkative."
"So what's new," Nate quipped. "Just let me know when you've got her and you're on your way out."
Eliot nodded curtly and slid out of the van. They hadn't seen any other vehicles or people yet, but he kept to the shadows just in case. He stopped at the corner of one warehouse and peeked around it at the building the GPS had indictated.
Without thinking, he relayed to Nate, "Got a late model GMC SUV parked in front, and a light on inside the building."
"That's good… I guess," Nate replied.
"Can't fit more than eight guys in that one vehicle," he said. He checked for cameras and took off in a full run. "No surveillance that I can see."
"Best to do a full perimeter check," Nate said.
"Yeah, I'm on it."
Eliot cautiously circled the building, looking for security systems, and signs of life. As he passed the front door, he noted the security card reader and number pad, and read the small sign, "O'Mara Enterprises."
"Mickey O'Mara?" Nate asked.
"Yeah, I've got a feeling," Eliot replied checking the window with the light. He couldn't see any people, but saw a couple of shadows. "At least two guys in front." He moved on to the side.
"You're being awfully talkative," Nate commented.
"Apparently it's habit, now, thank you, Nate," he growled.
Windows up high on the sides, big loading dock doors in back with the same kind of security as the front. He stopped at the corner to check the final side. No additional vehicles, nothing else of interest. He made a quick decision to try and break the code on the loading doors security pad. If the system did notify the bad guys that a door had been opened at least he'd have some time before they got to him.
He stood in front of the card reader. This was the worst part of the job – the tech stuff. He pulled one of Hardison's toys from his cargo pants pocket, and slid the card into the reader as Hardison had taught him. He pushed the button and watched as five digit numbers started flashing on the device.
It took less than 30 seconds; a beep sounded and Eliot heard the lock releasing. He reached down and lifted the door just high enough to allow him to roll under it. He disconnected the device, shoved it back in a pocket, and then rolled into the warehouse. Literally.
Once inside, he lay still, listening for people and letting his eyes adjust. He heard far off voices, but they didn't seem to be moving.
"She's right, we're not exactly dealing with Mensa…" he muttered.
"Yeah, well, speaking of Mensa, I've been thinking…" Nate said, "Since we don't know what the situation is here, it would probably be best if you could just get her out of there without anybody seeing you."
He doubted that was possible. "I understand," he whispered.
Eliot pushed up to his feet and started moving towards the front of the building. It was filled with crates. Eliot checked an open one as he passed. An old chair, an old clock, and a fancy lamp. Antiques maybe. Most importantly, he found a crowbar on the ground near the open crate. He picked it up and continued toward the voices.
He walked through the maze of crates, until he was close enough to hear what the men were saying. There were two distinct voices; one without an accent complaining about his wife and mother-in-law and the other with an Irish accent snapping "So, divorce her," every few seconds.
Eliot slid around a crate and saw that the men were in an office-like area that was separated from the rest of the warehouse with a partial wall and a big glass window. He also saw a dark shape on the ground to his left. He moved closer for a better look. It was definitely a person slumped against the base of a large steel support column.
"Think I found her!" he whispered.
"Really?" Nate exclaimed. "Is she okay?"
Eliot darted from shadow to shadow until he was at her side. Her head was hanging down over her chest. Her hands were restrained behind her back, which even if it was handcuffs wouldn't be a problem. But the impossibly thick chain threaded under her arms and padlocked around her waist… that could be a problem.
She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, no shoes or socks. And she was shivering.
"Is she okay?" Nate repeated.
"Well, she's not dead."
He put a hand on her shoulder and whispered her name. There was no response. He set the crowbar down and gently lifted her head. There was duct tape across her mouth and her eyes were closed. To his surprise, there were no marks on her face.
He patted her cheek gently and spoke her name again. Still nothing. He put his fingers on her throat and checked her pulse. It was dangerously slow.
Eliot tried to remove the duct tape gently, but it was impossible. He whispered an apology, "Sorry 'bout this…" and jerked the duct tape off. Her body jerked and her eyes opened suddenly. "Loki!" he whispered. Her eyes rolled towards his face, but her eyelids fluttered and closed and her body went limp again. Her lips were dry and cracked and small dots of blood started to appear.
"Loki… you gotta wake up…!"
Eliot was interrupted by an angry Irish accent, "Oy! What do you think you're doing?"
He grabbed the crowbar with his left hand and stood up. He faced two men. Both men were tall and foreboding, with short military-style hair cuts and both pointing Desert Eagle automatics at him. They were obviously professionals, and Eliot was half surprised they hadn't already shot him. He walked quickly toward them, hiding the crowbar behind him.
"I've got just one question for you…"
"Stop right there!" the one without the accent snarled. He waved his gun menacingly.
Eliot stopped a few feet short of them. "Which one of you has the key?"
The two men stared at him and then Irish laughed. "You've got more balls than brains, boyo!"
"That hurts, coming from a guy like you," Eliot said and then exploded into action. He swung the crowbar up, knocking Irish's arm skyward just as he pulled the trigger. On his downward swing, Eliot slammed the crowbar into the American's skull. The American dropped to his knees while Irish brought his gun back down towards Eliot's head.
"Eliot?" Nate whispered anxiously.
"Little busy," Eliot said, wrapping his right hand around Irish's gun and then throwing his most powerful side kick into his ribs. Irish flew backwards while Eliot held on to the gun. Irish hit the window office hard enough to send a spider web of cracks through it.
Eliot looked down at the American. He was still on his knees, blood starting to flow through his short hair and down the side of his face. He struggled, trying to bring the gun to aim on Eliot. Eliot used his left foot to knock the man's hand away.
Back to Irish who was approaching him again. Eliot dropped the clip from the gun and threw the weapon at Irish. Irish caught it with his face and staggered backwards.
The American was trying to bring his gun up again and Eliot slammed the crowbar into his wrist. The man cried out and finally dropped the gun.
Eliot let Irish move back within range and then drove him down to the ground with an explosive ax kick. The American reached for his gun with his uninjured hand; Eliot kicked him in the face and the man went backwards.
Eliot looked at Irish who was trying to come to his feet. "The key!" Eliot growled.
"Piss off!" Irish said, wobbling up to his normal height.
Eliot slid behind Irish and delivered a sharp kick to the back of his knee, sending him back down to the ground. Eliot dropped the crowbar. He grabbed Irish's chin with one hand and pulled, and put his other hand on the back of Irish's head and pushed. Violently. There was nothing left of the man except for the crackle of vertebrae and one last exhalation.
Before Irish's body hit the floor, Eliot was on top of the American, straddling him. He grabbed the man's shirt and lifted him up far enough to deliver a vicious punch to his face.
"I'm through playing with you!" Eliot snapped. "Give me the key!"
The man turned his broken face towards him. "I don't have it!" the man yelled, pointing in the general direction of his fallen comrade. "Padraig has it!"
Eliot shoved the man back into the floor and returned to Irish. He rolled the big man over and started searching his pockets. He was pleased to find not just one but two keys.
Eliot stood and slipped the keys into his pocket. He watched the American for a moment as he pulled himself along on the floor, moving toward the gun. "You're persistent, I'll give you that," Eliot said as he approached him. "Here, let me help."
In a smooth series of movements, Eliot crouched down, grabbed the gun, put it in the man's hand, and then put the barrel under the man's chin. Eliot held the man's hand on the gun and moved his own finger to the trigger.
The man narrowed his eyes at Eliot and Eliot pulled the trigger. He turned his head away from the explosion of bone, blood, and tissue.
"Hey!" Loki protested quietly. Eliot looked at her and found that she was on the edge of the splatter zone.
"Oh, sorry, darlin'!" he said moving to her side. She rolled her head weakly, trying to wipe her face on her t-shirt.
"Here, let me," he said, running his hands gently over her face. She tried to look at him through heavy lids. "Did they drug you?" he asked.
Her head bobbed. "Sedatives… Apparently I'm hard to handle…"
Eliot laughed, "That's an understatement."
He pulled the keys from his pocket and made quick work of the padlock, chains, and handcuffs. He pulled her into his arms.
"Ow," she said, and leaned into him heavily.
"Sorry," he said again. He stood and started walking toward the front door. "Nate, we're coming out the front."
"On my way," Nate replied.
Eliot kicked the bar on the front door not caring if it set off alarms. Which it didn't. At least not any audible alarms.
"I'm cold," she mumbled against his chest.
"We've got a blanket in the van," he said.
"I hate being cold," she whined.
He smiled down at her. "I know you do."
Nate brought the van to a stop in front of them, and then scrambled across the interior to open the sliding door. Eliot climbed carefully into the van, sat down, and arranged her in his lap.
"Blanket?" he asked.
"Got it," Nate replied, closing the door. He reached back to the third seat and grabbed the blanket. He opened it and draped over Loki, then took a moment to look at her. "Is she okay?"
Loki got heavier in his arms. He looked down at her. She looked much different than the last time he'd seen her. Her hair fell just past her shoulders and was a rich auburn color. Her face was pale and gaunt, causing her freckles to look darker than he remembered. But there were no bruises and no swelling. Her eyes, when they were open, looked much darker. She was leaner – more muscle and less curves. He wasn't sure he liked it… any of it.
"They drugged her… I'm worried…" he said, looking up at Nate. "Maybe I should take her to the hospital."
"Uh… well…" Nate stammered.
Loki dug her fingers into his shirt. "No hospital," she whispered. He looked down at her. "I'm okay."
"Yeah, you look okay," Eliot said.
She struggled to open her eyes. "Well, if you would have gotten here faster…"
"Well, if you would have called me sooner," Eliot countered.
Nate smiled. "I think she's gonna pull through." He climbed back into the driver's seat and put the van in drive.
She looked at his face, struggling to keep her eyes open. She gasped suddenly and her face contorted.
"What? What is it?" he asked anxiously, thinking she was in pain.
"What happened to your hair?" she exclaimed weakly.
He smiled as she reached up for his stocking cap. She got a weak hold on it and tugged. He grabbed her hand and returned it to his chest, then pulled off his cap.
She blinked heavily, still fighting the sedation. "Oh, Eliot, honey," she whispered. "Didn't anybody tell you? Grunge is dead."
=-=-=
One time, I wanna be the hero, baby
One time, I wanna be who you adore
One time, will you look at me again
Like I'm more than just a friend
This time
One Time by Sister Hazel
Author's note: While I have relaxed my editing, that particular thing there at the end that you might be thinking is a slip, isn't. It's a reveal.