Chapter 3 – The Forum

The elevator doors swished open and an elegant woman in a pale grey suit stepped out onto the 35th floor. Jo jumped up from behind Mac's desk and stepped forward to greet her. "Lieutenant Rossi? I'm Jo Danville. It's good to meet you." The woman smiled and nodded. "I'm very sorry for the loss of your colleague."

"Thank you Detective Danville. Jean-Luc was an excellent agent and a good friend. It's hard to believe that this has happened to him." Jo nodded at the younger woman's words and serious demeanour. She gestured for the Interpol officer to follow her.

"I had rather expected you to be Italian." Jo was surprised by her visitor's clipped English tones.

Elsa sniffed. "My husband was Italian. My father was English and my mother was Dutch-Indonesian."

Jo smiled and decided that Elsa must favour her father with her fair skin but take the dark coloured almond eyes and silky black hair from her mother's side. She also noticed that she spoke of them all in the past tense. "With all those nationalities it's no wonder you ended up in Interpol." Elsa gave a small dispassionate laugh as they stepped into the conference room. "Allow me to introduce you to Dr Sheldon Hawkes, our medical examiner Dr Sid Hammerback and Detective Don Flack." The three men shook hands with their visitor and they all sat down.

Elsa looked around as though expecting someone else. "Mac's not here?" she asked. For some reason Jo felt as though she had been slapped. Perhaps it was the casual tone with which her visitor used Mac's first name or the hint of intimacy in the woman's smile. Jo glanced at the others. They looked as clearly surprised as she was.

"Er … no. He's away accrediting another lab." Jo watched her visitor carefully.

"Oh that's a shame." Elsa was clearly disappointed. "It would have been so nice to get together again. I must try to get over to New York more often." She reached down into her briefcase and pulled out a file and a tablet computer. "I have been asked to give you all the assistance I can in this matter." She smiled at all present.

Jo recovered quickly. "Yes well perhaps you could tell us what Jean-Luc was working on?"

Elsa nodded and passed Jo the file. "He was part of a task force looking into a group calling themselves The Forum. We believe that they are a consortium of powerful businessmen who are conspiring to manipulate the stock markets. Jean-Luc was something of a financial expert. He believed that this group were using insider information to buy and sell shares, manipulate the price of oil and gold and further the interests of their own businesses."

"Who are these men?" asked Sheldon.

"We're not entirely sure. Jean-Luc's files suggest that three of the members are James Grant, a British national and a high-grade plastics manufacturer, Vassily Ychenko, a Russian national based in the Balkans who has a number of steel manufacturing facilities, and Rodrigo Cortès, a Spanish national who owns a conglomerate of companies that specialize in the manufacture of parts for the automotive and aeronautic industries. Jean-Luc was currently investigating another man, Pierre Moreau. He is the head of MRM Industries,a chemical giant in France with large subsidiaries here in the US. He has attracted particular attention because his companies have some large contracts with defence contractors and..." Elsa paused and tapped at the screen of her tablet PC. "...because of his ties with this man." She turned the tablet for them to see. The detailed line drawing depicted a swarthy looking man somewhere in his late thirties, heavy set eyes with big bushy brows and short wiry hair that stood up from his head like a brush. The artist had given him a menacing glare but what stood out most was the scar that ran from the corner of his nose to his chin giving him a permanent sneer. "We don't know his real name. He has a dozen aliases but mostly he is referred to as the Corsican. He's an arms dealer and gun for hire. What concerns us most are his ties with Al-Qaeda and the insurgents in Iraq." All four members of her audience flinched imperceptibly as they heard the word Iraq and in light of Stella's call to Lindsay, each of them couldn't help but wonder what the hell Mac was doing.

"CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"

Mac eased his aching body down onto the hard ground and tried to make himself comfortable but no matter how he shuffled some part of the rough stone wall behind him still seemed to pierce through his sweat-drenched khaki shirt and into his back. He drew up one leg and stretched the other out in front of him. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and allowed himself to catch his breath. He could have sworn that every inch of his body was covered in dust. He desperately wanted a shower and for once in his life he felt he could sleep for a day, he was so exhausted. His eyelids felt gritty and itched like hell. He forced his eyes open and looked at the pale-faced young man opposite him. He too had closed his eyes and he had both arms wrapped protectively around his legs gently rocking himself back and forth. He seemed to be trying to make himself as small as possible. The young man jumped as another man entered the room. Mac automatically lifted his rifle but relaxed immediately as soon as he recognized the newcomer. "It's okay Davy!" he said softly. The young man opposite looked at him with glazed eyes but the flicker of recognition was enough for him to relax again.

The newcomer eased himself down next to Mac. "It's all quiet Major. Rogers and Hicks have got first watch." He looked across at the young man who had buried his head in his arms again, his legs still drawn up tight against his chest. "How's he doing?"

Mac sighed. "He's struggling. He's weak and he's injured. The drugs are beginning to wear off but he's still confused. The sooner we're out of here the better." Mac fixed the younger man with a questioning stare.

"Well Major that's not going to be easy. How the hell did they know about the back-up rendezvous?"

Mac thought for a moment. "That is a very good question. That's twice they've got to us."

Ben Holland looked Mac sharply. "Speaking of which, how did you know it was a set-up? Back the compound I mean?"

Mac shrugged. "I'm a forensic scientist. I spend my life looking at details. The man who was sitting at the camp-fire cooking..." Ben frowned as he tried to remember what unusual detail had caught Mac's eye. "...well, we watched him every day for four days. He always stirred the pot with his right hand until the night we attacked. He was stirring with his left and his right hand was lying in his lap hidden in the folds of his robe. I asked myself why would he suddenly use his left hand to stir and the most logical conclusion was because he had a gun in his right. "

Ben huffed slightly disgusted with himself for not having noticed that, a detail that could mean the difference between life and death in his line of work. "Well I'm glad you noticed that otherwise we'd all be dead. I'm sorry I should have..."

"Not your fault." Mac's eyes blazed. "They knew we were coming. They were expecting us there and at the back-up rendezvous. Our mission has been compromised right from the beginning either at HQ or here ..." Mac left the words hanging.

"No Sir!" avowed Ben adamantly. "Not Rogers or Hicks. We've worked together for almost six years. I trust them with my life. The leak has to be back at HQ." Ben looked sideways at Mac. "I … er … don't suppose you have a backup plan Sir."

Mac grinned at the younger man and shook his head. "Hey don't look at me. I'm just along for the ride, remember? And it's Mac, not Major or Sir!" Mac reminded him. "Why? Have you run out of ideas Captain?"

Ben Holland gave a half-hearted laugh and ran a hand across the dark stubble on his chin that gave him a rakish air. "Just right now ...yeah!"

"Well you've done a damned fine job of keeping us alive up until now." Mac closed his eyes, a hint of a smile gracing his dirt-streaked face. "But give me five minutes sleep and I'm sure I can come up with something. Give me ten minutes … and it might actually work."

Ben Holland laughed again, glad for a little humour. He leaned back next to Mac and closed his eyes, exhausted from the past few days. He had had his doubts about this mission especially after being told what had happened to the first one and more so when the General had discretely told him he'd be having an unofficial guest along for the ride but he had soon discovered that the NYPD Detective was an ex-Marine and still one helluva soldier despite his age. Right now he was very glad that Mac Taylor was on his side. Between them they might even get out of this alive. He opened his eyes and glanced once more at his companion. It was clear that the older man was utterly drained but even as he slept he conveyed an aura of authority. Ben Holland couldn't help but wonder why this man was willing to risk his life in order to get Davy Schaeffer home.