Chapter Four

"What do you mean we can't give it to them?" Nick demanded angrily. "Grissom, didn't you hear that call?"

"Yes, Nick, I did!" Grissom retorted.

"Then how can you not help him?!"

"Nick, even if my conscience would allow me to hand over the plans to a Nuclear Bomb that would devastate the entire country, how do you suggest I get them from the FBI?"

"But we can't just do nothing!"

Grissom put his elbows on the desk and covered his face with his hands. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't just leave Greg to die, but how the hell was he supposed to help him?

"Grissom?"

The entomologist took his face from his hands and stared at Nick. The younger man looked beyond panicked, and was looking pleadingly at Grissom for help.

Grissom sighed and turned to face the AV Lab technician who was staring dumbly at him. "Archie, could you please get Agent Dobkins and Agent West in here?"

"Sure, Grissom," said Archie and he left the room quietly.

"Why the hell are you getting them involved?" Nick spat. "You know what their answer will be!"

"And do you have a better idea?"

Nick opened his mouth, then closed it. Silently he sank into the chair opposite Grissom's desk.

Grissom sighed again. "Nick, I don't like working with these guys any more than you do, but what choice do we have?"

"I don't know!" said Nick helplessly. "But we can't just let them…we can't leave Greg to…This is my fault, Grissom!"

"It's nobody's fault, Nick," said Grissom quietly as a knock sounded on the door. "Come in," he called.

The door opened and in stepped Agent Dobkins and Agent West. "Mr. Grissom, I believe you were looking for us?" Agent Dobkins enquired politely.

Grissom nodded. "I just received a phone call from the man holding Greg Sanders. He demanded the memory key in exchange for Greg."

"Mr. Grissom, I cannot give him the memory stick," said Agent Dobkins. "I cannot trade millions of lives for just one man."

"JUST ONE MAN?" Nick roared as he jumped to his feet.

"Nick!" Grissom hissed, but Nick ignored him.

"You're telling me you'd leave Greg to die at the hands of these men?" he demanded furiously. "You're telling me he should pay for your Agent's mistake?"

Mr. Stokes! Calm yourself!" said Agent West at once. "The situation with Mr. Sanders is regrettable but…"

"SHUT UP!" Nick yelled at him. "Greg is not collateral damage and I won't let him become another one of your statistics! This is an FBI screw up and you'd damn well better fix it!"

"Or what?" snorted Agent West imperiously. "You'll shout us to death?"

"No," replied Nick, his tone suddenly quiet. "But I'd be willing to bet the FBI don't want these details leaked. I'm sure the general public wouldn't be too happy if they discovered that their government couldn't be trusted with such dangerous plans, and I guarantee that there would be outrage if they discovered that the government had developed such a weapon in the first place. Could you imagine the panic?"

"And how would such details be leaked, Mr. Stokes?" asked Agent Dobkins, her eyes narrowing. "Most people tend not to believe anonymous news tips."

"Maybe not," Nick answered. "But I'm sure they'd believe it from a well known Crime Scene Investigator."

"You wouldn't dare!" gasped Agent West.

"A statement like that would cost you your job, Mr. Stokes," said Agent Dobkins warningly. "I'm sure you don't want that?"

"It can cost me my career for all I care!" Nick spat.

Grissom and the two agents stared in shock at Nick.

"Nick," said Grissom urgently. "Think about this…."

"Oh, I've thought about this, Grissom!" snapped Nick, his gaze on the FBI Agents. "And I'm not willing to let Greg die to cover up their mistake!"

"Use your head, Nick!" snapped Agent Dobkins, getting angry for the first time. "Do you honestly think we can just trade millions of lives for Greg's?"

"So we should just leave him to die, is that it?" demanded Nick.

There was a long silence as Nick and Agent Dobkins stared one another down. Grissom had never seen Nick so angry or out of control before. It was like some mad fear was driving him, and had driven out all rational thinking. Even Grissom knew they could not sacrifice millions of lives for Greg.

Finally Agent Dobkins spoke. "Mr. Stokes, I cannot give you the plans. But," - she looked him straight in the eye - "I will do my best to help you find Mr. Sanders. I offer you all the manpower that I have along with the FBI resources. If we work together, we may find Mr. Sanders before any harm befalls him. Deal?"

She held out her hand. Nick looked at it but did not take it.

"And what if we don't find Greg? What then?"

She sighed and dropped her hand. "I cannot give you those plans, Mr. Stokes, so I suggest you stop wasting time arguing and focus on finding Mr. Sanders."

"We've only got twenty-four hours," Grissom put in with a pointed look at Nick.

Nick swallowed the sick feeling in his gut. If this was all he had then he would have to take it. "Fine!" he spat.

Immediately Agent Dobkins turned a brisk countenance to Grissom. "Mr. Grissom, did you manage to trace the call?"

He shook his head. "Our lab technician tried, but they were scrambling the signal."

"Can you tell me anything about the caller? Or anything you might have overheard in the background?"

Again, Grissom shook his head. "It was fairly quiet. But I can tell you the caller was Russian."

"Now, how would you know that?" she asked, watching him with interest.

"My roommate in college was from Russia," he answered shortly. "I recognised the accent."

"So it may be our Mr. Providskey," she mused. "Lets see if we can track down any news on his whereabouts. Agent West, could you take care of that?"

"Of course," the man nodded and left the room, shooting a venomous look at Nick as he did so.

"Mr. Stokes," she said, turning to him. "Would you join me in the layout room? I'd like to go over the evidence with you."

"Fine," said Nick through gritted teeth. He would have preferred to work on his own and away from this woman, but she was calling the shots and he didn't have time to argue. Greg didn't have the time.

"Mr. Grissom," she smiled at Grissom who stared stonily back. "Could you work with your AV technician in trying to trace that call? He may not have got the signal, but maybe phone records?"

"I'm sure Archie is already doing that," replied Grissom, his tone thick with distain. "So why don't you just worry about the evidence?"

"Of course," she said, her teeth clenched. "Mr. Stokes?" She indicated with her hand for him to exit the room but Nick gave her a sarcastic smile.

"Oh, please, ladies first."

She nodded and left the room, a brief look of annoyance crossing her face. Nick shot Grissom a look and followed after her.

xxx

"Mr. Stokes, can you pass me that picture of Agent Kramer's body, please?" Agent Dobkins requested politely.

Wordlessly, Nick handed her the file and she sighed.

"Mr. Stokes, I understand that you're upset about your colleague, but I really am trying to help. Could we at least be civil?"

Nick arched an eyebrow at her. He had managed to work in almost dead silence for several hours alongside Agent Dobkins, only stopping to grunt a response to her questions. He was well aware of his rudeness towards her - and of the fact that his mother would skin him alive if she caught him speaking to a lady like this - but he couldn't help it. This woman and her agents had played a large part in Greg's kidnapping, and he did not find it easy to forgive her.

But then he looked up at her and saw how exhausted she looked and reminded himself that she was at least helping in the search for Greg. "Fine," he said gruffly.

She smiled sadly. "I know you think I am being very cold by refusing to give these men what they want, but you must see the position I am in. I am responsible for a lot of lives, Mr. Stokes."

"Yeah? Well, I'm responsible for Greg's!" said Nick shortly. "I'm part of the reason he's in trouble. The officer at the scene and the FBI have a lot to answer for too…in fact, the only one not at fault is Greg, but he's the one paying the price!"

"And I understand that, I really do," she said. "But you cannot just hand over the plans to such a deadly weapon to a terrorist….no matter how high the cost."

Something in her voice made Nick look up. Agent Dobkins was staring sadly at the evidence table, not really seeing its contents.

"You sound like you have some experience in the matter," Nick commented, his tone easier than it had ever been towards her.

She nodded. "I let someone very important, someone I loved very much, die because the alternative would have been hundreds of lives."

"I'm sorry," said Nick, shocked.

It was a long time ago." She shook her head and looked at him. He was watching her with a pained expression of understanding. "You care very much about this Greg, don't you, Mr. Stokes?" she asked softly.

"He's a good friend," Nick mumbled.

"Right." She studied him shrewdly. "A good friend."

They returned to their work in silence, neither one noticing the shadow lurking outside the door.

xxx

"Wake up, little fish!" a cold voice sneered and Greg felt a hard slap across the face. Startled, he jerked then groaned as pain tore through his shoulder.

The cold voice laughed. "I would suggest not moving, it will hurt less."

Well, duh! thought Greg as he tried to arrange his stiff body into a somewhat less painful position without jarring his aching shoulder. He wondered how long he had been asleep; it had seemed like hours until he had finally passed out from exhaustion and pain.

A rough hand grabbed his jaw. "We have a phone call to make to your Mr. Grissom. It's time to see just how important you really are."

Greg felt his heart plummet as he heard the tapping of a number being dialled. Would the Crime Lab be able to help him?

"May I speak to Gil Grissom, please?" he heard Christof say. "He's expecting my call."

Silence fell for several minutes.

"Mr. Grissom!" Christof's voice broke the silence. "How very nice to speak to you again!"

Greg winced at the gleeful tone in the hard man's voice.

"I gave you twenty-four hours already," said Christof roughly. "There will be no more time! Now, what is your decision?"

Greg bit his lip, praying silently.

Then Christof tutted. "You disappoint me. I thought I had made my position clear?"

Greg's heart nearly stopped. Had Grissom just refused to help him?

"I think not, Mr. Grissom," Christof was saying. "You have made your decision!" The cold man hung up and silence fell.

Suddenly, Greg was being pulled to his feet. Rough hands yanked his injured shoulder but his apprehension was such that he barely noticed.

Then the tape was yanked off his mouth and the ropes on his wrist were cut. Greg immediately started to struggle. "Let - me - go!" he gasped, trying to hit the men with his good arm.

Several loud, masculine voices laughed. "Oh don't worry, little fish," Christof taunted. "You're not going anywhere yet, we have one more hand to play."

Greg felt himself being dragged out of the room. "Ugh!" he grunted in pain as one of the men pulled his arm. "Stop!"

They ignored him. He was pulled down a flight of stairs and dragged forward. As the men stopped, the young lab technician had a horrible feeling he was back in the room where he had first heard them torment the gunman. Suddenly Greg was shoved roughly against a wall; he struggled desperately, trying to kick the men, but stopped when one of them yanked his arm painfully.

"Do not be stupid!" hissed a thick voice he had not heard before. "What can you do against us?"

Greg gulped. He could feel his legs trembling uncontrollably and tried to make them stop. He wished he wasn't so scared but he couldn't seem to control it. He was terrified of what they would do.

But nothing happened, although Greg stood tensed and waiting. Then he heard the ringing of a phone. "Yes?" he heard Christof answer.

There was silence while Christof listened to whoever was on the other end.

What's going on? Greg wondered. There was an air of tension and watchfulness in the room, he could feel it.

"Good. I will contact him now," Christof proclaimed, before disconnecting the call. "We have one more call to make, little fish!" he sneered at Greg.

Silence fell yet again and Greg was aware of a number being dialled once more. He was utterly confused; now who were they calling?

He got his answer several seconds later when he heard Christof exclaim, "Mr. Stokes, I presume?"

Nick! Greg's jaw dropped. Why the hell was he ringing Nick?

"I think you know," Christof answered quietly. "I'm someone who has something very important to you."

Greg didn't have time to wonder what he meant. Christof was suddenly laughing and thrusting a phone in his ear.

"Say something!" the man commanded.

"Hello?" said Greg tremulously.

"Greg!" he heard Nick's voice, loud and panicking. "Are you alright?"

"I've been better," Greg confessed, but the knots in his stomach were slowly easing just from hearing Nick's voice. "I'm sorry I've caused you all so much trouble," he added in a whisper.

"You haven't caused us any trouble, Greg!" Nick exclaimed vehemently. "It's my fault you're in this mess! But I promise I'll do whatever it takes to get you back safe!"

"Whatever it takes, eh?" said Christof's voice as he removed the phone. He had obviously been listening. "That's good to know!"

Greg cringed as he heard the man roar with laughter. "Oh, very good, Mr. Stokes! But why would I want you as a prisoner, when I already have the perfect one right here?"

He's offering himself in my place! Greg realised.

But Greg didn't want Nick in his place and felt weirdly relieved when Christof refused. "No, Mr. Stokes, I think Mr. Sanders here is far more valuable to me. For one thing, I know you would do anything to get him back!"

Greg's mouth fell open. What?

"You know exactly what I want!" Christof spat into the phone.

Greg was starting to feel sick. What exactly was he asking Nick to do that Grissom had refused to do?

Christof sighed. "I had a feeling you would say that, and as I told Mr. Grissom, that is not my problem! However, I'm sure I can provide an incentive for you to find a way around those restrictions!"

Suddenly, Greg found himself being pinned against the wall by many hands. He could tell something bad was going to happen and struggled uselessly. Then something sharp pierced his shoulder. Crying out in pain, he tried to pull away.

But the thing continued digging into him, tearing into him, something sharp and hot and agonizing. It was a knife. Greg screamed as it travelled further and further into his shoulder. "STOP! STOP! STOP!" he yelled, trying to pull away from the God-awful pain.

But there was nowhere to go. Greg could feel hot tears spilling down his face through the blindfold as the knife continued its slow descent. "Arrrrrrrghhhh!" he screamed, feeling every inch of the knife as it sliced through his shoulder. He had never experienced pain like it. He would die just to make it stop.

"Please!" he begged desperately, gasping and panting. "PLEASE!"

Suddenly he felt the knife stop and hot breath assaulted his face as Christof leaned in and whispered cruelly, "Does that hurt?"

Greg nodded, whimpering and unable to speak. Then suddenly the knife was driven in fully and Greg heard the thump as it hit the wall behind him, impaling him. He moaned and sagged, nearly passing out from the sharp pain of the knife embedded in his shoulder and pinning him to the wall. Was this what if felt like to be crucified?

"Talk to your friend!" Christof demanded and thrust the phone at Greg again.

But Greg couldn't speak. The pain was too intense.

"TALK!" Christof roared and slapped him.

"Ni…Ni…Nick!" was all Greg managed to choke out through the blinding pain.

"Greg!" Nick was whispering. "Oh God…what did they…" Greg could hear him swallow. "Greg," he said again.

"Help me…" Greg pleaded then screamed again as the knife was twisted viciously in his shoulder. "STOP! PLEASE!" he begged his tormentors.

Christof took the phone from him. "I know how to keep a man alive and in agony for a very long time, Mr. Stokes," he said flatly. "It is your decision if that will be the fate of Mr. Sanders here. But just imagine him screaming like that for weeks…."

Christof's voice trailed off and Greg felt like he was going to vomit.

"So glad you see my point," Christof said, and Greg could hear the smile in his voice. He moaned in pain.

"You get the memory stick and I will contact you to arrange a switch," said Christof. "Oh, and Mr. Stokes, just one thing. Tell anyone about this and…." His voice trailed off and Greg felt the knife being yanked out and screamed again. Then whimpered loudly as he felt fingers digging into the wound, probing cruelly.

It was too much. Greg collapsed into darkness.

xxx

"You have ten hours," said the harsh voice. "And I will know if you have told anyone, just as I knew how to contact you!"

Then the phone went dead and Nick stared at it, shaking and leaning against the wall for support.

This isn't happening! he told himself. This isn't real!

He stared wildly around the parking lot, searching for some sign that this was all just a terrible nightmare when suddenly a horn sounded somewhere nearby.

The sound brought him crashing back to reality.

It's realoh God, did I just agree to hand overGreg!

Nick gave a half strangled sob and put a shaking hand over his eyes. Greg's screams were echoing in his ears. He would have agreed to slitting his own throat if it had made them stop, but how was he going to get those plans?

"Nick?" a deep voice sounded suddenly and Nick dropped his hand from his eyes.

Warrick Brown stood beside him, staring at him in concern.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," said Nick weakly.

"Right," said Warrick, scepticism etched on his face as his eyes travelled over Nick's pale face, his teary eyes and his shaking hands. "And I suppose that's why you're out here?"

"I…I just needed some air."

"Grissom said you ran."

"What?" Nick stared at him.

"Right after he hung up the phone," Warrick persisted. "You ran."

"I didn't…how did you…"

"I got here just a few minutes ago," said Warrick. "Grissom filled me in."

"Oh."

"Why did you run, Nick?"

Nick stared at the ground. He had been in Grissom's office when the call came in. Hearing Grissom refuse to give Greg's kidnapper the memory stick had been the equivalent of hearing Greg's death sentence pronounced. The thought had been suffocating, forcing Nick to leave Grissom's office before he gave too much away. He'd found himself out here before he knew what he was doing, and then his phone had rang…

"What's going on, Man?" Warrick demanded. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine!"

"You're not," Warrick retorted. "Look, maybe you should go home, Nick."

"No!" said Nick quickly. He needed to be at the lab to get those plans. "Look, I just wanted some air, alright? I was upset…for Greg."

Warrick was studying him suspiciously.

"Seriously," Nick told him, trying to force himself to breathe normally. "I'm fine now, I just needed air. Look, maybe we should head back inside? See what the next plan of action is?"

"Okay," replied Warrick, looking slightly less suspicious. "Let's go."

As they headed back inside, Nick's mind was buzzing with thoughts of how he would get his hands on that memory stick.

A/N: Sorry for the wait, chapters four and five are closely connected so I had to work out exactly how much I was going to put in each one. Also, I wrote this story as a challange and I am really struggling with it. Please read and review; I'm averaging nearly 300 reads per chapter but only two reviews so I would love to know what some of you think.

And thank you so much to the people who have reviewed so far, it makes me feel better about this daft task I've set myself!!!