Chapter 4

Hawkes pulled photos of the killer into software to clean them up. Stella walked up behind him, watching the screen.

"Danny looks like he's holding up," Stella said.

"I guess. Hard to tell in these. The teenager took good shots of the gunman though."

Hawkes pulled the cleaned up photos into face recognition software and started it searching. He turned to another computer and began closing other photos.

"What are those?" Stella asked.

Hawkes smiled. "Ana sent them by accident. Just a bunch of high schools kids."

"Stop." Stella said, grabbing his arm. "Open the last one."

Hawkes pulled up the last picture. Stella pointed at the dark haired and dark skinned teenager among the other Caucasian teenagers.

"Is that Ana?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"I've seen her somewhere. Run her photo too."

"You think she's involved?"

"I don't know, but I know I've seen her someplace, and seeing how we have the Secret Service involved, I'm going to bet she's the key to all of this. They protect children to the age of sixteen."

"But only president's and vice-president's children."

"There's always an exception." She pulled her cell phone out of the holster clipped to her jeans when it started ringing. She glanced at the screen before answering, "Hey Mac."

"Come to my office."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. Cusack is bringing someone to my office."

"Be right there."

Stella hung up. "Let me know what you find." She stopped at the door. "Hey Sheldon."

He looked at her.

"Thanks for coming back from vacation."

He smiled. "They need all the help they can get, right?"

She tapped her phone against the door frame, smiling. "Yeah. Thank you." Stella hurried out of the lab.

Cusack and a dignified man entered Mac's office. The man was dressed in an expensive suit of wool and silk, and his shoes shined like mirrors. He had black hair and dark skin.

Agent Cusack introduced the man as, "Ambassador Nasili of Tonga. He owns 14283 Rhianna Drive."

"I am told that there is a gunman holding a hostage in my home," Ambassador Nasili said.

Mac hesitated. Stella looked from Mac to Cusack.

"You're monitoring my calls?" Mac asked Cusack.

"We're the Secret Service. We don't monitor calls."

"But the CIA does, don't they?"

"We have the authority to pull whatever resources we deem necessary in certain situations, such as this."

Mac resisted going off on the man about invasion of privacy, his lack of a court order – still – and that he was only hindering them getting anyone out alive by withholding information. Instead he asked, "Do either of you know what this man wants?"

"He's after a royal heirloom," Ambassador Nasili replied. "He believes it belongs to him and has attempted to steal it before."

"The King of Tonga sent a royal heirloom to America? Why?"

"He felt it was safer for it to be kept out of the country."

"In a panic room?"

"Yes."

Mac's anger flared. "A teenage girl and my CSI are in that panic room. Are you telling me this teenager is protecting an heirloom that could be replaced?"

The Ambassador didn't answer.

"Is this heirloom worth lives?"

"Yes," the Ambassador answered matter-of-factly.

Mac shook his head.

"It is not your country that this child protects, it is ours," Ambassador Nasili reproved, "and I did not come here to argue politics with you. I am told you are in contact with the terrorist. I wish you to contact him again. Tell him that his Royal Highness King Tuku'aho is willing to offer anything he desires for the safe release of his hostages."

"Did he take anything your King offered the last time he did this?"

Neither answered him.

"Did or didn't he?"

"We are willing to pay for the release of your investigator and officers, Detective Taylor. Please, call him," Ambassador Nasili urged.

They would pay to get everyone out of there? There was probably a price for this generosity but he was more concerned about the two policemen, Danny and Lindsay, and the teenager caught in the middle of politics. Mac tapped the speaker button on his phone and dialed Danny's cell phone.

Danny didn't move when his phone started playing a tune. The gunman walked over to him.

"Answer it."

Danny just looked at him. The gunman aimed his gun at Danny's head.

"Answer it."

Danny pulled his phone from the holster and held it out to the gunman. "It's for you."

The gunman smiled. "Put it on speaker."

Danny flicked it open and put it on speaker.

"Yes?" the gunman asked.

"Where's Danny?" Mac asked.

"I'm here," Danny answered.

"I have Ambassador Nasili here. He would like to negotiate—"

The gunman laughed. "Really? Is he there to offer me anything I want for the release of the hostages?"

"I am," the Ambassador said.

"Sorry, Danny's boss, but there is nothing that man could offer that I want. He knows damned well what I want. And this time, Nasili, your King is going to have to negotiate with the Americans since they want their officers alive."

"I can give you anything you want. Anything. What you are trying to take, you will never get," the Ambassador told him.

"There isn't anything on this planet you could offer me in her place!"

Danny looked up at the gunman, catching the dropped word. The gunman held Danny's eyes for a moment, and then walked back to the window. The man could see the street almost a quarter mile from the house. It was lined with police cars and a couple ambulances and fire trucks on the street. They were all keeping their distance just like he ordered.

"Surely there is something we can offer," Nasili said.

The gunman didn't answer.

"I think he's done talking," Danny said. "Mac?"

"Hang in there, okay, Danny? You'll be seeing Montana soon."

Danny's breath caught and he almost smiled. "I will, huh?"

"Yep. Still a pretty wild state."

"Thanks, Mac. I needed to hear that."

"Let us know if he changes his mind on the Ambassador's offer."

"You'll be the first I call." Danny hung up the phone, putting it back in the holster.

"You want to visit Montana?" the gunman asked.

"Yeah. I want to see Montana again." Danny smiled at the secret the word held.

"Too remote for me."

The gunman had lied. He never shot Lindsay and she was somewhere safe. That lifted some weight off his mind.

Lindsay opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling. She blinked, swallowed, and remembered where she was and why her head hurt so much.

"I don't know. She's still out," she heard Ana said.

"Ana?" Lindsay said.

"Lindsay?" Ana called.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Who are you? Stella. She answered the phone number you called before. Are you okay?"

"I… I really don't know. Did you send the photographs?"

"Yeah. She said they had some software look at them, but couldn't find out who he was."

"Great," Lindsay said.

She rolled over on her side, pushing the blanket covering her off. She grabbed the edge of the counter and pulled herself onto her feet. She moved around to a stool and sat down on it, laying her head on the counter.

"You're really white, Lindsay."

"Blood loss," Lindsay.

"Blood loss? What does that…" To the phone Ana said. "Oh. Stella says you should probably sit down and not try to move much. She said there might be head trauma."

"She's probably right."

Lindsay looked toward the phone signal corner. Ana had changed into jeans and a T-shirt since Lindsay passed out.

"Don't use up the battery, hon. We may still need it."

"She told me to hang up, Stella. We'll call back soon. Bye." Ana hung up and walked over to Lindsay. "Do you want some water?"

"No. I want my gun back."

"Maybe later."

"Ana…" Lindsay sighed. Her head hurt too much for her to press the issue. "So they didn't get anything on the photos?"

Ana shook her head. "No."

Lindsay lifted her head. An idea was forming. "Ana… Did that man touch you or something you brought in here?"

Ana started to shake her head, but stopped abruptly. She ran into one of the rooms and returned with a metal case.

"He had this when they caught him. They got it away from him before…" She sat it down on the counter, staring at it.

Lindsay reached out, rubbing the girl's arm. "Okay. Did I still have a jar of black dust and a brush when I fell in here?"

Ana shook her head.

Lindsay looked at the case, thinking. "Do you have any paint brushes or something like that in here? And I'm going to need clear tape, some sturdy white paper, and a pair of scissors."

"Be right back," Ana told her as she hurried off on a scavenger hunt.

Lindsay got up and started through the kitchen cupboards. She pulled out a can of instant hot cocoa mix. She opened the container, pinched some of it, and let it drift from her fingers. It wasn't as fine as she'd prefer, but it would have to do. She hunted down a roll of tin foil and walked back to the case. Lindsay carefully covered one side of the case to preserve the fingerprints on it for processing later. She stood up straight and the room started spinning. Lindsay sat down on the stool, putting her head in her hands.

"Are you okay?" Ana asked.

She looked up into the girl's concerned face. She smiled, looking at the supplies Ana had come back with. She pulled the large blush brush from Ana's hand.

"Is there blush to go with this?"

"No. I'm not even sure why that was in here. This is a panic room, after all."

Lindsay didn't offer her opinion on the matter. "Help me tape this tinfoil on the case and don't touch the case."

The two wrestled the case around until they had the foil taped down. Lindsay opened the container of hot cocoa. She picked up the brush and patted it on her hand, watching blush shake loose.

"Go wash this out and then pat it on a towel until no more water comes out." Lindsay handed it back to Ana.

Ana trotted around to the sink and rinsed the brush. She grabbed a handful of paper towels and patted the brush until no more water came out. She came back to Lindsay's side.

"Cut pieces of paper as long as your longest finger and wider than your thumb.

Ana started cutting the paper. Lindsay picked up the cocoa container and brush, and began dabbing the cocoa onto the metal case. Fingerprints revealed themselves under the dust. Lindsay laid the case on the protected side. She picked up the tape and tore off a piece. Carefully she lifted a fingerprint and firmly attached the tape to a piece of paper.

"As I put these on paper, start taking pictures of them. Get the best photograph you can."

Ana stopped cutting and picked up her phone. They had a couple dozen when the room began spinning out of control around Lindsay.

"Call Mac and tell him you're sending the photos. I…" Lindsay grabbed the edge of the counter.

Ana took her arm and led her over to the couch. Lindsay laid down, watching the ceiling slowly stop twirling. She closed her eyes, feeling weak and tired all of a sudden.

"Are you going to be okay?"

Lindsay didn't answer.

"Your bandage is bloody again. Is it supposed to bleed so much?"

"No," Lindsay whispered as she faded into sleep.

"Lindsay?" Ana questioned.

"What?" Lindsay whispered.

Ana didn't continue. She reached down, laying a hand on Lindsay's forehead. She turned and went back into the corner, dialing Mac's phone number.

"Ana?" Stella's voice said.

"Lindsay had me take pictures of fingerprints. She told me to call before I sent them."

"She had her kit with her?"

"No. We used a makeup brush and hot chocolate."

Stella's warm chuckle didn't make Ana smile. "You two are very bright, Ana. Can I talk to Lindsay?"

"I think she passed out." Ana looked at Lindsay. "She doesn't have any color. Her lips are blue. And her skin is cold."

"Send me the fingerprint photos, Ana. When you're done, put some pillows under her feet, and cover her with a blanket."

"Are you guys coming soon?"

Stella had her finger pushed into her ear so she could hear Ana over the jackhammers, welders, and backhoe. She stood back with Mac and Flack, waiting for city workers to break through the bomb shelter door. It was made to withstand a nuclear blast and proving it could withstand people too. Stella walked over to a foreman.

"How much longer before you're through?" she asked him.

"Another hour, maybe."

"Did you hear that Ana?"

"Yeah. Hurry. Please hurry. She's not doing good, Stella."

"We'll get to you as fast as we can. You'll take care of her until we get there, won't you?"

"I promise."

Stella turned when Mac walked up to her.

"Thank you. I'm hanging up now. Send me the photographs."

"Okay."

The call disconnected and right away pictures of fingerprints started coming through.

"What's going on?" Mac asked, watching Stella work cell phone buttons.

"Lindsay's went into shock. But before that, she was able to print something and get photos. I'm forwarding them to Sheldon."

Mac looked at the workers. He wouldn't tell them to hurry, not like he wanted to, but Stella could read him.

"They're working as fast as they can, Mac."

He nodded. "I know."

Hawkes was engrossed in the online news article he was reading and didn't hear the APHIS computer beep. He glanced back, and then rolled across the room to it. He pulled up the information and yanked his cell phone from the holster on his belt.

"Stella, I have a hit on the man's prints, and the girl's."

"Just a second. Let me get Mac."

The door to the bomb shelter lay on the ground, revealing a comfortable, stylish '70's bomb shelter inside. Mac listened to the S.W.A.T. lead assign routes that his men, Flack and six other officers would take once they were inside the home. Mac looked across the people at Agent Cusack. He had strolled onto the scene twenty minutes before they broke through the bomb shelter door. He didn't say anything to Mac, or anyone else. He just leaned against a tree and silently watched. What was he waiting for?

"Mac," Stella said, coming up on Mac's opposite side. "Sheldon got a hit on the prints." Stella hit the speakerphone button and held it up. "Go ahead, Sheldon."

"The man has been charged with assassination and treason in several states, Russia, and Tonga. He's supposedly dead, too."

"A dead man, huh?" Mac glanced over at Cusack. "Why am I not surprised?"

The agent had his earpiece pushed in. Was he listening in on their conversation or to someone else?

"And get this, Ana is the daughter of King Tuku'aho, and apparently this gunman has tried to kidnap her five times before today. All the articles I've read never cited a reason why."

"Of course!" Stella said, looking at Mac. "She's Princess Amanakie. She was accepted to Yale and came to America to finish high school here. It was in all the papers last year."

"I remember that," Mac said, looking at the tunnel.

"But why her?" Hawkes said. "Why does this guy keep trying to kidnap just her?"

Mac glanced at Cusack. He was staring at Mac.

"You know, don't you?" Stella asked Mac.

"I have a theory."

"What is it?" Hawkes asked.

Mac looked up when four S.W.A.T. came out with the two kidnapped officers. The officers had been stripped to their underwear and t-shirts. Medics guided them away, offering them blankets.

One of the S.W.A.T. called out to the leader, "Clear. We can move in now."

"We gotta go, Hawkes," Stella told him

"I'll meet you at the E.R."

Stella hung up and for the moment, Mac's theory was forgotten. Flack disappeared into the bomb shelter with S.W.A.T. Mac couldn't stay behind.

"Stella, they'll be taking Danny out the front. Go around and wait with the paramedics for him."

"Where are you going?"

Mac looked her in the eyes. "To get my CSI out of there." Mac followed S.W.A.T. into the bomb shelter.

Danny dozed, always aware of the gunman at the window. At first he was able to keep his mind focused on work, but slowly, as the early hours of morning crawled along, his thoughts became more disjointed. At one point he woke up and thought he was back in his parent's house and was waking up in his old bedroom. But seeing the silent, lethal sentry at the window quickly chased of the dream.

Something scratched on the floorboard in the hall. He'd been hearing it for a while. Soft scratching like the rats that used to climb under the floorboards of his first apartment. They had been huge rodents, as long as his hand from nose to the base of the tail, and long tails covered with short, clear hairs. The gunman glanced over his shoulder, but he didn't move to investigate.

Danny's eyes started to droop just as something flashed across his peripheral vision. He looked up, shaking off the sleep, and stared Flack in the eyes. The detective stood outside of the light, pressed against the wall, and leaning out just far enough so only Danny could see him. He motioned to Danny: Did Danny see him?

Danny yawned, bobbing his head. He glanced at the gunman before looking back at Flack. Flack motioned to him: He would count to three on his hand, and Danny was to hit the floor.

Danny looked away, nodding. He adjusted his wounded leg so he could spring from the chair, and put both hands on either side of the injury to brace himself when he lunged.

The gunman glanced at him. He pulled another square of paper from his back pocket and began folding it. In the corner of his eye, Danny saw Flack look around the door frame at the gunman. He was signaling to someone out of Danny's sight to get ready. He looked Danny in the eye and gave one solid nod. Danny returned it: He was ready.

Flack held up three fingers and counted down. Danny dropped to the floor as Flack curled his last finger. The gunman turned, drawing his pistol.

"FREEZE!" Flack yelled as he and seven S.W.A.T. swarmed into the room.

Flack moved between Danny and the gunman before the gunman could aim at Danny. Guns clicked as the police aimed at the gunman and he aimed back. He may have been outnumbered, but he wasn't giving up easily.

One S.W.A.T. member grabbed Danny by the back of the shirt and helped him crawl out into the hall. Danny pressed against the wall by the door, watching the gunman through legs and bodies.

"Put weapon down on the floor and your hands up," Flack ordered.

The man didn't obey. Danny saw a red dot from a rifle sight bounce along the gunman's shoulder. Four more lit up in the same spot. The gunman didn't stand a chance.

"Danny," he heard Mac say and looked back, watching his boss crouch down next to him. Two policemen followed behind him. "There's an ambulance waiting. Go with these two."

Danny turned his head, looking back at the man. "Where's Lindsay? You said she was okay."

"She's in the panic room. Now get out of here."

Danny looked at the panic room door.

"You can't help us with a bum leg, Danny. Get out of here."

Danny looked back at Mac.

"You know I'll take care of her," Mac assured him. "Go."

Danny held an arm out to the officers. They helped Danny onto his feet and hurried down the hall with him. Mac pressed against the wall outside the door, watching the stand off.

The gunman saw a red dot on the wall and glanced out the window. There were a dozen more S.W.A.T. waiting outside. He looked down at the origami at his feet and then up at the faces surrounding him. He fired as he charged S.W.A.T. and Flack, forcing them to open fire on him. The bullets spun him around before he fell to the floor, crushing the origami under his body.

Mac walked in, watching S.W.A.T. surround the gunman while one checked for a pulse.

"He's gone."

"Clear!" Flack called out.

"Cover him up," Mac ordered. "I don't want a teenager seeing that. Someone call the medics up here"

One of them grabbed the comforter from the bed and threw it over the dead man.

Mac looked up at the tinted dome over the door. He pulled his badge off and waived it at the dome. He heard the door click open and Ana pushed it open.

Ana grabbed his wrist with both hands, pulling him into the room with her. And he didn't resist.

"Lindsay."

Mac's voice was somewhere at the end of the black tunnel.

"Lindsay, wake up."

It was closer now. She was following his voice back to him.

"Lindsay," Mac said right next to her ear. She heard his worry and concern. More importantly, that he was at her side.

Lindsay opened her eyes, looking into his eyes, and offered a weak smile. He smiled back.

"Hey, there." Mac said.

Two paramedics came around the end of the couch, one pulling gurney.

"That for me?" she asked.

"Yeah. They're going to take you to the hospital to get your oil changed."

She chuckled softly and that made him smile a little more. A paramedic came to the top of the couch and pressed his fingers against her neck, watching the hands on his watch. The other grabbed Lindsay's hand and prepped it to insert an I.V. of saline and blood.

"Where's Danny?"

"On his way to the hospital. You two are killing me with this medical leave, know that? I think you two planned it."

She chuckled again.

"We have to move her now," the paramedic told Mac.

Mac stood and moved out of the way.

"Where's Ana?" Lindsay asked.

"In the bedroom."

Lindsay let the paramedics help her sit up and move over to the gurney. They strapped her on and rolled out of the panic room. They came out of the panic room and Ana was immediately at her side, holding her hand as she followed alongside. Lindsay smiled at her, squeezing her hand. They came to the steps as Ambassador Nasili reached the top.

"Princes Amanakie, we have a car to take—"

"I'm going to the hospital with my friend," Ana told him as she passed.

"Princess Ama—"

"End of story," Ana shot back at him.

The group passed Agent Cusack coming up the stairs. He stopped and turned, watching them go through the front door.

"When are you or he going to tell Princess Amanakie?"

Agent Cusack looked up. Mac stopped on same step as Agent Cusack, leaning against the hand rail. He looked sidelong at the man

"Tell her what?" Agent Cusack asked.

"The gunman really was her biological father and all these attempts to kidnap her, was because he wanted her back. That would make her illegitimate, wouldn't it? Probably not even a real heir to the throne."

Agent Cusack stared at him for a long minute before starting down the stairs.

"The girl deserves to know what really happened tonight," Mac told him.

Agent Cusack spun and walked up to Mac, leaning in close. Quietly he threatened, "If you choose to tell anyone, you will be fired and find it difficult getting a job at a fast food restaurant. You will not be able to travel on an airplane, boat, train, ever again. You will never have another credit card. Renting will become a problem. Your driver's license will be revoked. Do we understand one another?"

"Thank you, Special Agent Cusack."

"For what?"

"Confirming my theory about what was really going on tonight. You wanted us to stop him, for good, because you know if he shot at a New York police officer, they'd shoot to kill. You and those you're protecting wanted us to cover this up so she and the people of Tonga would never find out the truth. Better to live believing she's the King's daughter, than to learn her real father was an assassin."

Agent Cusack backed down two steps with a real smile.

"If you ever decide to leave the New York Police, Detective Taylor, call me. You would fit in well with my team." Agent Cusack turned and trotted down the stairs.

Mac told the empty staircase, "Not a chance."