Lee Brackett pushed his way into his room marching straight to his desk. "Are you sure you heard Sandburg call Larabee 'Dad'?"
"Yes, I'm sure," Antonio Milan repeated for what felt like the fiftieth time. "I might not have been able to hear everything they said but the runt spoke louder when he said that. It didn't sound sarcastic or nothing either," Antonio insisted. He liked Lee. The former CIA spy could be described as smart and ambitious yet not afraid to get his hands dirty to get what he wanted. It was why he agreed to partner with Brackett. Antonio had no interest in being held back by the goody-two-shoes father and son team. Not that he was blind to Brackett's faults. The guy took distrust and paranoia to extremes. Still, he respected the way Lee could hold a grudge. More than a decade passed since he last saw Larabee but Lee still jumped at the chance to settle an old score. Antonio would just have to make sure that Lee never found reason the settle any scores with him.
Lee paged through his file on Sandburg. It included information on his wandering, hippy mother. Interestingly enough Naomi Sandburg did not start her traveling ways until about four months before Blair's birth. Her life prior to that existed solely in Picksville, Indiana.
Lee moved to open an electronic folder on his desktop computer. When he spotted Larabee with Sandburg the other day he immediately gathered information about the former SEAL. The new file was not as exhaustive as Sandburg's, but it told Lee what he needed to know. Chris Larabee had also been raised in Picksville, Indiana. In fact, he lived there until he joined the navy, just seven months before Blair's birth.
The information could only be considered circumstantial. It didn't explain why Naomi left the space for father blank on Blair's birth certificate. Nor did it tell when Naomi stopped saying she did not know the father and fess up to Larabee being her baby's daddy. Still, if it proved to be true there were all sorts of fun ways he could manipulate Sandburg with this new information.
Remembering Antonio, who continued to wait, he smiled at his young Sentinel. "Good work tonight," he praised. "Head back to your room for the evening. We can start training again tomorrow after lunch."
"Sure thing," replied Antonio, "later man." The Hispanic strutted away with a self assured smirk.
Lee found himself grinning as he watched the former gang member leave. Lee felt pleased with the way Antonio continued to develop. He never believed all of Sandburg's nonsense about heroic Sentinels who were all virtuous and true. Alex Barnes surely popped the bubble on that theory. Lee wished he could have met the sexy blonde before she fried her brain on whatever herbal concoction she mistakenly mixed together. Then again she had offed her partner, so maybe the risks would not have been worth the fringe benefits. Antonio was still young, but Brackett figured he could work that to his advantage. Once the kid got his senses working they would be a force to be reckoned with. No more pandering to Colton or anyone else. They just needed to be patient a bit longer. During their first meeting Lee really had not cared how Sandburg got Ellison to do things even Ellison did not think he could do. Later, joining forces with Colton was motivated by receiving the equivalent of a 'get out of jail free' card. Now Lee possessed his own Sentinel to train. He needed to know everything Blair knew so he could make Antonio the best weapon possible. Lee did not care how he pried the information out of Sandburg as long as he got what he wanted.
Jim drove his truck the first hour. Vin took the wheel after a much gas and bathroom break. They were still headed north on Interstate Twenty-five. Soon they would reach the Colorado/Wyoming border.
Ezra spent the time squeezed into the narrow back seat immersing himself in Blair's work. He started with the leather bound edition of the Sentinel Dissertation Naomi made for Blair months ago. It held an impressive collection of ancient lore and historical accounts balanced by a mountain of clinical data based on a 'primary subject' also known as James Ellison. The anthropologist even included a chapter of data based on a secondary subject. Ezra doubted he would have been able to write such a detached and unbiased account about the woman who nearly ended his life. Tying everything together was an engaging prose that kept the reader wanting to learn more. No wonder Naomi's friend had gone overboard trying to get the publishing rights. Blair's work could easily be transformed into a best seller.
Next Ezra began searching through the files on Blair's laptop. The bulk of Blair's data involved Jim, as to be expected. The staggering amount of information the young anthropologist collected on his partner surprised Ezra. His murmured, "There is enough here for a dozen dissertations," drew a snort from Ellison.
"Blair did say he had enough data for ten," the detective admitted. "That was a couple of years ago, though. I can believe there's enough for twelve by now. Probably even has sufficient information to write a dissertation on Vin too."
Ezra could only agree upon seeing the documentation regarding his team's sniper. There were copies of emails and phone calls between Chris and Blair concerning Sentinel issues Vin struggled to deal with. Blair also detailed his initial encounters with Vin both before and after the younger Sentinel came online. He even recorded several Kiowa legends which involved heightened senses. No doubt they were the same stories Vin heard as a child from his Grandfather.
Ezra ignored the file labeled 'Secondary Subject' deciding to keep his focus on the data gathered on Jim and Vin. He read and reread an email exchange between Chris and Blair on the various ways to help their Sentinels deal with spikes and zones. Next he discovered descriptions of ways to 'piggyback' senses in different combinations. Finally, he moved onto the newest folder labeled, 'Comparative Studies'. Within were Blair's rough notes on the visual and auditory challenges the Sentinels engaged in yesterday; inputted by Blair no more than an hour before the kidnapping.
The cell phone's ring commanded the attention of all three men within the truck. Jim snatched the cell from the seat tray. "Tell me you've got a location," he demanded. The senior Sentinel still felt pulled north, but he wasn't as comfortable as Vin following his feelings. Right now he really wanted a little independent confirmation the last few hours were not wasted on a wild goose chase.
"We've got a strong possibility at least," JD assured. "Are you three still heading north on Interstate Twenty-five? How far have you gotten?"
"Yes we're still on Twenty-five north. County Road One-twenty-six is our next exit," Vin spoke up from the driver's seat. Jim's cell volume was actually quite quiet, but being able to hear the other side of cell phone conversations was vital for undercover work. Chris insisted he practice until the skill until it became second nature.
"Please don't tell me we've been going in the wrong direction," Jim pleaded. He would be furious if his gut had led them astray.
"No, no, no," JD denied, "In fact, you need to keep heading north right into Wyoming. Between the money trail that I've been following and what Jack's contacts have been able to dig up we're pretty sure they are at a decommissioned base south east of Cheyenne."
"You're going to need to be careful," Jack Kelso cut in on the conference call. "It's not just Brackett, Colton and the Sentinels they recruited."
"General Colton," JD jumped in to explain, "hired a bunch of mercenaries from Defiant Services Incorporated. I found a copy of a contract for forty of them to act as guards for the base, probably there to keep Chris and Blair from escaping."
"That's not all," Jack warned. "It looks like several members of the medical staff were given orders similar to Lieutenant Holt and Sergeant Smith. More worrying is who he put in charge of the medical personnel. One Doctor George Eckhart was recruited by the CIA a couple of decades back for both his brilliance and his moral flexibility. Eventually his moral flexibility became more of a hindrance than his brilliance could compensate for and they let him go."
"Hell," cursed Vin, "just how slimy do you have to be to get kicked to the curb by the CIA?"
"I take it," Ezra piped up from the back, "that we are discussing someone other than Lee Brackett." Vin might be able to pick up the conversation from Jim's phone, but Ezra felt distinctly left out.
"Jack and JD were just letting us know who we might run into," Jim explained. "In addition to Brackett and Colton we're going to be dealing with a disgraced former CIA mad scientist, about forty mercenaries," Ezra paled a bit at that number, "plus some medical staff and two army sentinels who may or may not be aware they are part of an unsanctioned project."
In the back seat Ezra's lips set in a grim line. Even if they counted Chris and Blair on their side they were talking ten to one odds. Ezra suspected Mr. Larabee received some perverse pleasure in facing insurmountable challenges. The question lingered; why did Ezra kept following the fearless blonde? True, Ezra enjoyed beating the house advantage as much as any man, perhaps more. But when did too much become enough? Ezra shook his head at his own thoughts. Who was he kidding? He'd go rushing to Chris and Blair's rescue if the odds were one hundred to one. His mother would be dismayed to realize how strong his loyalty to Larabee held him. Jim spoke again pulling Ezra from his thoughts.
"Send the directions to Ezra's smart phone," the detective instructed. "We'll call you after we've scouted the base and seen how secure it really is."
"Just don't storm the gates without us," JD countered. "Buck, Josiah and Nathan are loading up the Suburban. Kelly's team will be here in twenty minutes. It's still going to take us a couple hours to catch up to you. Your Captain Banks is flying into Cheyenne with Detectives Brown and Rafe, so they should actually get to Jack's rally point ahead of us."
Jim glanced at Vin humbled by how many people were coming to help despite the risks. If they could wait until everyone arrived they would be fifteen strong, not counting Blair and Chris. It sounded a lot smarter than Jim, Vin and Ezra trying to breach the base security alone.
"We'll wait," Vin answered for both Sentinels. "But if they're hurting Chris or Blair. . ."
"All bets are off," JD finished. "I get it. Just try to remember that you've got back up on the way."
Once Ezra confirmed the directions to the base Jim ended the call. Silence descended upon the truck as two Sentinels and their back-up Guide contemplated how they could rescue their friends.
This morning's wake up began as a vast improvement over yesterday's crawl to consciousness. Blair woke in a warm bed for a start. Chris was already awake and insisting he had been babied enough; he wanted to get up and moving. The ATF agent demanded a tour of the base so he could get a better feel for their situation. Blair recognized a losing fight when he saw one. He conceded on the condition that they start the tour in the mess hall with some breakfast. When they made it through a second helping of bacon and eggs without seeing Brackett or his Sentinel protégé Antonio, Blair counted it as a win.
The four men stopped at the medical lab next. Blair introduced his father to Dr. Millet as well as the other doctors and nurses on staff. The only one absent appeared to be Dr. Eckhart which Blair could not regret. The Guides observed while Dean and Carl were put through their daily physical. Sometimes Blair questioned what purpose a particular test served, other times he offered suggestions on ways to make the examination less stressful to heightened senses. One of the nurses, Linda, convinced Chris to let her check his injuries. Blair smirked when the big tough federal agent caved to the willpower of a petite, no-nonsense redhead.
The relaxed atmosphere evaporated when Doctor Eckhart and General Colton arrived together. The way everyone jumped to attention, soldiers and medical staff alike, caused Blair to straighten without intention. Chris also stood; though Blair got the feeling he did it to satisfy his son not show respect for the General.
"I'm pleased to see you all working bright and early," boomed the General. "How are things progressing this morning, Doctor Sandburg?"
Blair was stunned momentarily mute upon hearing the long sought after title on the lips of the man who engineered his forced servitude.
"I believe he prefers to be addressed as Detective Sandburg," Chris's voice pulled Blair from his shock while the supportive hand on his shoulder steadied him.
"Right," Blair gathered his wits for a reply. "I earned my Detective's shield. I have a master's degree in anthropology, but I never defended my dissertation. I hope you weren't misled on that point."
"I'm aware your former university, Rainer, did not allow you to present your dissertation. However there are those in the military who have been aware of Unified Heightened Sensory Onset for some time. The war college found your dissertation so impressively documented they accepted it as is," General Colton announced with pleasure.
"War College?" Blair looked to Chris for clarification.
"I believe he's talking about the United States Army War College. The military founded it to train high level military and civilian personnel in strategic leadership, but it also reviews papers and award degrees when the subject matter is classified," Chris explained. "The other branches of the military, as well as the State Department each run their own War College. I received my Master's degree in National Security and Strategic Studies from the Naval War College."
"I have a doctorate in a classified subject; awarded to me by a 'war' college I never attended," Blair summarized with disbelief thick in his voice. Then another notion occurred. "I'm never going to be able to explain this to Naomi."
Chris winced at just the thought of how Naomi would react to the news. "Well there's at least one reason to be glad everything is classified," he observed dryly.
"Who's Naomi?" asked Carl. He could not help but wonder what kind of woman would be able to intimidate both Guides.
"Naomi Sandburg," began General Colton grimly, "is a radical, left-leaning socialist who will have nothing to do with this project."
Chris tightened his grip on Blair's shoulder. His son might usually be the most laid back of the two, but an insult to his mother was apt to make Blair fighting mad. "You mentioned all of us trying to get along," reminded Chris before Blair could speak. "Perhaps denigrating each others' family members isn't the best way to go about it."
Colton looked ready to continue on with his character assessment or assassination depending upon one's view point. A look at Blair's suddenly hard face seemed to make the General reconsider. "Let us agree Ms. Sandburg is not Army material and leave it at that," he suggested.
Blair huffed in sudden amusement. "Even Naomi could agree with that." The absurdity of Colton and Naomi agreeing on anything shook loose the last remnants of Blair's shock. This conversation started with the General asking for a progress report; time for Blair to play the role of good little soldier. "Anyway, so far this morning we have isolated where the majority of Sergeant Smith's skin rashes have come from. He is just having a strong reaction to the detergent his uniforms were being washed with. That is easily adjusted for. We have also been working with the medical staff, going over past test results and identifying which areas we will want to work on first." Blair tried to say as much as possible while revealing nothing of substance. He could not change what they already knew about Dean and Carl, but if he could disguise how quickly their control over their senses improved it would give them another advantage they sorely needed.
"Well I have the laptop you requested to help you," offered Colton with a benign smile. "Doctor Eckhart as already transferred all of the relevant data for your use."
"Thank you sir," Blair accepted the silver device. He forced a happy; even eager look of anticipation on his face while privately thinking he would have to be very careful about what he typed into the computer. The General was sure to have the thing bugged in some fashion. Blair felt like he was neck deep in an undercover operation without the benefit of backup. "I wanted to ask about the blood tests. Doctor Millet explained most of what you have been tracking, but he said Doctor Eckhart also took samples for something else."
General Colton turned to Eckhart and gave him a nod. "I've been using the samples," began Doctor Eckhart, "taken from Lieutenant Holtz and Sergeant Smith to isolate which genes relate to Unified Heightened Sensory Onset. Looking for the Sentinel gene, you might say."
Blair really didn't like the idea of someone with as few morals as Eckhart messing with others DNA. Sadly his role of 'good soldier' wouldn't allow him to challenge the man's ethics. "Well, I know everyone is all about DNA these days, but I doubt you'll be able to track the Sentinel condition to just one gene. They are more likely to be a dozen or more all acting in concert. That doesn't even take into account the impacting environmental factors. After all, if it was just a matter of being born with the right genes it wouldn't take decades for their abilities to surface." Blair shrugged letting his frown suggest the futility of Eckhart's quest. "Good luck with that."
"You know I think Blair has an excellent point," suggested a new voice. Brackett entered the room with his trademark smirk in place. "We've been able to find quite a few Sentinels without genetic testing. Perhaps we should focus our genetic research on the problem of finding Guides. After all, we do have the only two identified Guides right here, and the fact that they're related certainly indicates it may be an inherited trait."
Blair cursed internally. He had known Brackett and Antonio were outside their building trying to listen in on them last night. Sure Dean said Antonio was having trouble with his dials, but Blair should not have assumed they were safe. It would have been better for him to deny any connection when Dean brought it up. Instead, in his exhaustion, Blair confirmed Dean's belief by calling Chris 'Dad'. Antonio must have heard and passed it on to Lee.
"What are you talking about?" asked General Colton. His head swiveled from Blair to Brackett.
"Didn't Blair tell you that Larabee is his daddy, yet?" Brackett queried in mock shock. "Anyway, I find it hard to believe both father and son seem to have this elusive Guide ability, when all of the other people who have tried to use Sandburg's guiding techniques have failed. The only explanation I can come up with is that their ability is something unique to them, perhaps passed down from father to son."
"That is a very interesting theory," Doctor Eckhart spoke up for the second time. The man examined Chris and Blair much like they were bugs under a microscope. Blair never understood Jim's desire not to be treated like a lab rat more. "One we should seriously consider testing."
"Wait a minute," Colton interrupted, "Sandburg's father is listed as unknown on his birth certificate. Besides, the two look nothing alike."
Blair momentarily considered latching onto Colton's disbelief and denying Brackett's latest bit of information. The reality that their biological connection could easily be checked halted those thoughts. Chris shot Lee such a nasty glare it was amazing the former spy did not spontaneously combust on the spot.
"That is because Blair favors his mother's side of the family, General," Chris explained through gritted teeth.
"You mean Naomi," began Brackett. His voice sounded both amused and superior until Chris cut it off.
"I mean, Naomi was my high school sweet heart. She faced a lot of tough choices when I was captured and declared killed in action by the Navy. She did the best she could under the circumstances," Chris insisted firmly. "None of which has anything to do with our current situation."
"I beg to differ," countered Lee. "If your ability is genetic, this is all very relevant." The spy turned traitor addressed Doctor Eckhart. "No doubt you'll want to take blood and DNA samples. Do you think you'll need sperm samples too?"
Blair barely stopped Chris from attacking Lee. Not an easy thing when his own impulse urged him to smack the grin off of Brackett's face.
"Will you be offering up samples too?" asked Lieutenant Holtz. The two Sentinel soldiers, so quiet up until now many forgot they were in the room, again became the focus of attention.
"What are you talking about?" demanded Brackett. He enjoyed the opportunity to toy with Blair and Chris, and did not like the interruption.
"I mean will you be volunteering samples of your blood, DNA and sperm, as you're also a Guide of sorts," Dean inquired. The Lieutenant knew he bore much of the responsibility for the revelation of Blair's paternity. It might be too late to take it back, but he could muddy the waters with another secret.
"Don't be ridiculous," dismissed Brackett. "I'm not a Guide."
"Isn't that the same thing you said about Larabee?" Dean argued.
"What makes you think Mister Brackett is a Guide," asked Doctor Eckhart his mad scientist's eyes now locked on the disgraced spy.
"The same thing that told me Detective Sandburg and Agent Larabee are Guides," Dean replied. "It's all in their aroma. Each man has some variation of minty-sandalwood, though some are more pleasant than others."
"Now I know you're making this up," charged Brackett. "If we all have the same smell how can some be more pleasant."
"I said you each possessed a variation of minty-sandalwood, not that you all smelled the same," Dean clarified as though talking to a particularly confused child. "Blair's mint smells like it was just plucked from the plant, and his sandalwood is newly cut. Chris's mint is a bit more pungent as though recently chopped, and his sandalwood smells freshly sanded. Each is a little different but they are both still the minty-sandalwood scent that signifies Guide for me."
"You never mentioned the ability to recognize Guide scent before," Eckhart pointed out even as he updated his information on his tablet.
"Honestly, while I read about scent recognition and the Sentinel / Guide relationship in the manual it didn't come together for me until I walked into that room to discover Bracket beating on Larabee. Adrenaline ran high and I could smell the scents of all three men floating in the air," Dean explained. "Even under extremely tense circumstances I found Blair and Chris's scents to be soothing. I also felt a strong impulse to protect both men."
"You certainly weren't trying to protect me," snorted Lee.
"Because unlike their aromas, yours is a bit offensive," admitted Dean. "Your mint smells like it got tossed aside and left to mold, while your sandalwood carries a hint of rot. Though Antonio doesn't seem to mind as he has happily claimed you as his Guide." Personally Dean thought Antonio just as offensive as Brackett but he probably already exceeded his disrespectful quota for the day.
Lee quietly seethed, unsure how to either counter the lieutenant's insults or verify his claims. Instead Eckhart spoke up again. "How fascinating; all that time spent trying to find the elusive Sentinel's Guide and here you have been one all along, yet never realized it." Eckhart turned to General Colton. "I think blood samples from each of the three should give us a good start narrowing down the genetics of what makes a Guide. Considering how difficult it has been to find Guides up until now I would like to make this our new priority."
Colton nodded thoughtfully before dismissing the group with a, "Carry on." Eckhart ordered Linda to collect the blood samples. Blair didn't waste the effort to protest. Despite the way they were allowed to roam the base they were still prisoners in a jail of Colton's making. Not even the confiscated side arms they were permitted to carry changed the trap they were in. Seeing Bracket grimace through his blood draw was at least a small if somewhat petty enjoyment. He wondered if Brackett would try to flee when the realization hit that he had become just as vulnerable to Colton's 'draft' as Blair and Chris were. Blair figured the chances were good once he witnessed the way Brackett stormed out of the lab the second the nurse removed the needle from his arm. Doctor Eckhart left a moment later with three sealed vials and instructions for two of the doctors to accompany him and assist with the analysis.
Doctor Millet waited until Eckhart entered another part of the lab down the hall before offering, "Would you like for me to try and get a message out now?"
Blair gave it some serious consideration. They had been here for over a day now with no idea if the others held any clue how to track their location. Blair knew Jim would move heaven and earth to find him, but he didn't know how much of a trail Brackett left for them to follow. Brackett knew enough about Jim's senses to be able to hide many potential clues. The idea of Eckhart using Blair's blood to develop some Guide identification test that would lead to others being 'drafted' turned his stomach. He tried to tell himself that things would never go that far, but a cynical voice reminded of the times their government failed to live up to the high ideals it had been founded upon. Perhaps most importantly, Blair was tired of pretending to go along with Colton's project; tired of playing Brackett's little mind games. He wanted out of this gilded cage and he wanted out now!
"Not just yet," insisted Chris. Blair spun in his father's direction surprised their thoughts were so far apart. Chris smiled back knowingly. "Call it a feeling, but I don't think we're as alone as it might seem right now." Blair wondered if Chris was indulging in a bit of wishful thinking. Yet even though most would peg Naomi as the parent most in touch with their feelings, Chris often exhibited a strong intuitive side. Something Blair quickly learned to respect and trust. Before Blair could question Chris the older Guide suggested, "Why don't we take Dean and Carl outside and start working on some of those exercises you mentioned. I think we've been stuck inside enough." Blair nodded, deciding he would trust where Chris led them.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Major Crimes Captain Simon Banks. He was never very good at sitting on the sidelines while others made choices without him. He respected Jim's superior experience when it came to covet action, but he also knew Jim took greater risks when Blair needed rescue.
"We need to get eyes on the place they are holding Chris and Blair," Jim insisted. "We need to verify just how many mercenaries we're going to be going up against; how well armed and trained they are. Vin and I aren't going to try to take the place on our own but we need more information before we can launch an assault."
"How close is the rest of my team?" asked Vin as he pulled a plain tan shirt over his head.
"JD's last check-in put them at about an hour away," replied Detective Rafe. He took over coordinating between the groups upon arrival. "I also just took a call from Jack Kelso. The Department of Defense contacted him. They wanted to reiterate General Colton's Sentinel Project was not approved nor was the release of Lee Bracket. The FBI will be raiding the Washington D.C. headquarters of Defiant Services tomorrow at nine am. DSI never acquired the proper licenses to operate in the U.S. Combine that with their collusion in the kidnappings of two law enforcement officers and their upper management is looking at jail time. Jack was also told that a hostage retrieval unit is flying into Cheyenne and will be at our disposal if we should need more assistance."
Jim frowned at the idea of people so high up the government chain of command being aware of his actions. "What happens if we don't want their assistance?" he asked.
"Jack said they would only act at our request," Rafe informed. "He said they were being unusually accommodating for the DOD, which meant they presumably want something from you or Blair, but for now it probably wouldn't hurt to have a few extra guns on our side."
Jim glanced at Vin who shrugged, "I don't have nearly as many issues with the military as you."
"For now we will leave them in Cheyenne," Jim decided. "Are you ready to go?" he asked Vin.
"Yep, tell my team we will be back in three, four hours at the latest," instructed the sharpshooter. "Jim's right; the last thing we want is to go in blind. We'll be careful; approach from cover and never get too close. The infrared scopes Jack Kelso sent with you will help us pinpoint where everyone is and hopefully limit surprises. Ezra will be with us and we're not doing anything I haven't done a hundred times before. This will give us the intelligence we need to get Chris and Blair out safely," Vin glanced at the afternoon sun, "hopefully before the sun rises again in the morning."
Brackett stopped by his room. He did not pack up his things; that would be too obvious. Instead he slipped all of his ready cash as well as the forged identification for Antonio and himself into various hidden places on his person. When General Colton first approached him months ago with crazy ideas about drafting Sentinels and Guides into serving the military Lee encouraged him. At the time he thought it would be a nice bit of revenge on Ellison and Sandburg. He never bothered to think about what it would mean for others identified as Sentinels or Guides, not that he would have cared much. The list of people that the spy turned freelancer bothered to expend concern on stayed very short. At the moment it consisted of two names: Lee Brackett and Antonio Milan. Lee assured himself Antonio's name joined his own on the list for logical reasons, not because of some deep mystical bond Sandburg would no doubt wax poetic about. Lee was simply smart enough to recognize how advantageous controlling your own personal Sentinel could be. Antonio, thankfully, proved too smart to fall for the higher purpose, blessed protector drivel.
The only problem now regarded the exposure of Brackett's apparent Guide status. No way would he remain Colton's little lap dog indefinitely. Brackett assumed from the beginning he would have to cut his losses and bail on the General at some point. Only Colton was stupid enough to think that they would be able to keep all of the money, resources and personnel funneled into this project hidden for months on end without anybody noticing. Throw the kidnappings on top and eventual exposure became inevitable; someone would track them down. Personally, Lee's money was on Ellison. He could be one stubborn, determined SOB when it came to going after what he wanted, especially if it involved Sandburg. Either way Lee had no intention of being around when Colton's little fantasy crumbled to dust. It would have been nice to hang around for a while longer; enjoy the show of idealistic Blair compromising his principles to protect his father. The anthropologist (he still could not think of Blair as a detective) possessed one of those incredibly expressive faces that made torture so entertaining, and beating on Larabee would always be fun. Just not fun enough to risk his recently regained freedom on.
A rap on his door was the only warning before the wood barrier pushed open to reveal Antonio. "Hey, are you hungry? I'm going to get some breakfast . . . or lunch; whatever," said the Hispanic teen. He looked fresh out of bed; his hair spiking at odd angles and his shirt very rumpled.
Suddenly some of the less than charitable comments Lieutenant Holtz spoke echoed through Lee's head. "Do you consider me your Guide?"
"Of course," replied Antonio with surprise. Uncertain what to make of the expression on Lee's face he pointed out, "You were the one who explained to me about these funky abilities. You said you wanted to help me reach my full potential as a Sentinel. What was this game about if not us becoming Sentinel and Guide?"
"So you didn't want to train with Sandburg because you preferred me as a Guide?" Lee applied all of his experience in spy craft to discern Antonio's motives.
"Sure," snorted Antonio, "Why would I want to waste time with some do-gooder cop who would probably spend all of his time preaching at me?"
"Tell me what I smell like," instructed Lee. "Is it moldy spice and rotten wood?"
"Moldy what?" asked Antonio. "That's loco."
"Just describe my aroma," Lee insisted. He wasn't sure why he kept pursuing this idea; why it felt so important. The spy blamed the lieutenant for getting the word 'aroma' stuck in his head. He refused to believe he continued with this line of questioning because Dean's assertion that he smelled offensive stung; he didn't give a shit what Holtz thought.
"Okay," Antonio submitted. "First off you don't smell moldy. Maybe a little fermented, but in a good way like the really smooth liqueur . . . what's it called . . . cream of mint?"
"Crème de mint," Lee clarified.
"Yeah that stuff," Antonio agreed pleased that Lee knew the drink he tried to describe. "I suppose there is a bit of wood scent too, but I would call it aged not rotten. It kind of reminds me of this big old tree I used to climb at the park nearest our apartment. It must have been three times as large as any of the other trees there and the view from the top was awesome!"
The way Antonio smiled at his memories was all the convincing Lee needed. Screw Colton, Sandburg, Holtz and all of the rest. Lee was bugging out of this messed up mission and he was taking his Sentinel with him. "Holtz told the General I'm a Guide and now he thinks I'm a permanent part of his Sentinel project. I think we've got what we need from this place," he revealed the small memory card that held copies of Sandburg's dissertation and the other research gathered by the medical staff, "and it's time for us to head out on our own. What do you think?"
Antonio grinned with relief, "I think we definitely want to get some lunch then, because I don't like to travel on an empty stomach."
"We'll wait until it is dark before we make our move," explained Lee, "but there's no reason we can't enjoy the best the mess hall has to offer until then."