A/N. Thank you tlh45, smuffly, CSIFlea and Marianne for reviewing so faithfully. Hope I haven't got too complicated with the plot and that it's beginning to come together. (For Marianne, a little Mac action (not too much saving it for the finale). (For Smuffly, now you'll know what I meant when I say it looks like I plagiarized your story LOL)

Chapter 6 – The Plan

"Holy cow! That was awesome!" Rogers, the youngest member of the team grinned at Mac, clearly impressed.

Mac cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable at the younger man's earnest admiration. "Yeah, well … sometimes the old tricks work best," he muttered.

"Come on Rog, give us a hand. Grab his feet." Hicks' urging turned the young man around and he ran to help his comrade move the bodies from the road. Ben Holland was already wiping their tracks from the road with the dried out branches of a bush. Mac shook out the blanket and brushed dust from his hair as he walked back to the decrepit looking Toyota Land-Cruiser that they had now acquired.

He climbed into the back next to Davy. "Are you okay Davy?" he asked gently.

The younger man nodded. "I dreamed you'd come," he whispered, tears in his bright blue eyes so reminiscent of his father's. "You and my father. That you'd come to rescue me but I thought it was impossible … I helped them. They made me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

"Davy. Don't worry about that now. I managed to pass on the information you gave me about how they're getting the explosives into the country. It's going to be all right. Stella will find them. Right now, we need to focus on getting you out of here and back home to your father. Okay?"

"Okay." Mac's heart lurched at the look of total trust from his friend's son and prayed that he could fulfil what he had promised. Rogers and Hicks, having disposed of the four bodies piled into the car, followed by Ben Holland.

"I can't believe that actually worked." Ben Holland twisted around to face Mac as Hicks put the vehicle in drive. "You know they could have run you over."

Mac shrugged. "Nah, these vehicles are old, They would have wanted to preserve the tires. They had to stick to the tracks." Ben shook his head in disbelief that their plan had worked without anyone firing a shot and giving away their position. "You know you could take up a career in acting when you've had enough of the military. That was a pretty convincing death scene." Mac wondered where Ben had got the blood from but, on second thoughts, decided it was best not to ask.

The three soldiers laughed. "How would you know? You were buried under a blanket and six inches of sand."

Mac faked knocking sand out of one of his ears. "Tell me about it," he joked making them laugh all the more and helping to ease the tension that built up over the previous thirty minutes. Truth be known he had been absolutely terrified. As soon as he had spotted the tell-tale wisp of dust on the horizon he knew that a patrol was heading their way. As he alerted the others, he knew they couldn't make a run for it. It was a miracle that Davy had made it as far as he had. They needed transport and the Land-Cruiser heading towards them was their only option. Having spent two hours scoping the terrain there were only two options for an ambush, one being the ruined house where they had sheltered and the other out on the dust track that was the closest thing to a road. There was very little time to plan let alone discuss options so despite them thinking he was crazy they went along with it.

The worst part had been lying in the dip in the centre of the tracks with the filthy blanket over him almost choking on the dust and listening to the engine getting closer and closer. He had prayed that the rising sun would blind them enough so as not to notice his shape in the road although Ben had done a great job of disguising him. It had taken all of his self-control not to move as the Land-Cruiser passed over him and stopped just ten feet away. He'd heard the car doors open and the men get out. He listened to their cries of surprise as Ben had executed his dying scene some thirty feet at the other side of the car. He had risked a look and as predicted all four men had got out of the car, three of them advancing towards Ben leaving the driver by the door and more crucially by the radio. Mac had quietly raised himself up, slipped out from under the blanket and moved swiftly up behind the driver. He wrapped an arm around the driver's throat. His old training came back to him and with one quick movement the man went limp in his arms. Caught up with Ben's performance in front of them the other three men didn't even notice. Mac moved swiftly towards the right-hand most guard while Hicks who had been partially buried off to the left moved out from his hiding place and took the guy on the left. The man in the centre turned around to discover his two fallen comrades and was quickly dispatched by Ben before he could react. Ben and Mac gathered up the weapons, and the two radios as Rogers pulled a lethargic but obedient Davy out from a hiding place some twenty yards away and bundled him into the car.

Everyone had sighed with relief that part one of Mac's crazy plan had worked. Now they just hoped part two would as well.

"CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"

Atticus James swigged the last of his soda and ignored the incessantly ringing phone on his desk. He turned to his team leaders. "Okay, we're gonna' pull aside these eighteen containers off the Bella Rosa and run full checks. Here's the list." He handed round sheets of paper ignoring the groans of the men in front of him who wanted nothing more than to finish their already long shift and get home. "Tom, I want you to get your men to do an eye-ball check on the others." Tom rolled his eyes. "Look I don't like it any more than you do but this is a question of national security. Anything that seems suspicious and I mean anything, you let me know A-SAP!" he finished firmly. All the men nodded and trudged off to relay their orders. Atticus James plonked himself down in his chair and looked at the screen in front of him. A number of flashing red lights indicated delays in unloading and loading. He grabbed at the soda can having already forgotten he had finished it and on discovering it was empty, threw it into the nearest bin with a look of disgust. As his phone started ringing again, he picked up the business card that she had left and looked at the name. Detective Stella Bonasera. "Dammit, I picked a hell of a week to give up smoking!"

"CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"

Jo Danville looked around the penthouse apartment. "Nice," she muttered as she took in the floor to ceiling windows with their view over Manhattan.

"Yeah, bet this place costs a packet." Don raised his eyebrows as he scanned the room with it's leather sofas, glass dining table and it's unusual objets d'art. "What the hell is that supposed to be?" Don grimaced as he studied an amorphous white sculpture which appeared to have three breasts.

Jo shrugged. "Sometimes it's best not to ask. Sheldon?"

"I would estimate that our vic has been dead about five or six hours. Same M .O., as Jean-Luc Gallet." Sheldon Hawkes looked up from where he was kneeling by the body of Pierre Moreau sprawled on the floor by the sofa. He turned back to the body and pulled a long blond hair from the vic's shirt and peered at it closely. He then picked up the fallen champagne flute noting the red lipstick traces and lovely clear fingerprints. "Too good to be true," he muttered as he popped it into a bag. "Gotta be planted."

"No prints," called Danny from the front door. "Handle's been wiped clean. Hey babe, you got anything?"

Lindsay entered the apartment. "Video surveillance shows it's the same guy as the convention centre. Same height, same dark robe. Looks like he entered via the alley behind the building and took the emergency exit and came up the fire escape stairs. No cameras."

"Oh great!" Danny looked at Jo hopefully. "You don't want us to dust the whole thing do you?" Jo merely smiled and arched an eyebrow indicating that was exactly what she wanted them to do.

"Look on the bright side Danny Boy!" Flack grinned. "You get at least three hours uninterrupted time with your wife." Both Danny and Lindsay rolled their eyes and grabbed their cases as they headed towards the stairs.

"There's some kind of stain on his sleeve," muttered Sheldon. "Could be coffee."

Jo looked at the sleeve and at the man's out-stretched hand. She dropped to her knees and peered under the sofa. "Ah ha!" Jo stuck a gloved hand under the couch and pulled out a slim white tablet computer . Standing up she tapped at the screen surprised to see it open directly to an agenda. "His appointments calendar has a lot of entries. He's a busy man. Meetings, appointments, lunch, dinner, breakfast... There are various entries marked AA," she remarked scrolling through the agenda. Jo tapped again. "Huh? This is odd. One of the last incoming mails is from an account called BlackWidow66." She held up the tablet for Don to see.

"Contact lost. No ID on fourth man. Not part of official op. Not local." Don read. Don frowned as Sheldon stood up.

"An unofficial fourth man not part of the op. Could that be referring to Mac?" Don shuddered involuntarily as Sheldon spoke aloud the words he had been thinking. "Did he answer?"

Jo tapped the outgoing mail. "Er no but he has sent several mails since … er … appointment confirmation … hotel reservation … wait what's this?" Again Don peered over her shoulder.

"RedHawk99," read Don. "Essential you recover lost package. AA requests you identify fourth man."

"I think we need to get this back to Adam."

"CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"

Adam Ross was getting frustrated. "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" He jabbed a finger at the keyboard and ran his hands down his face. "Too much information! Think! Think!" He took a deep breath and imagined Mac standing at his shoulder.

What have you got so far?

"I've pulled Lucas Mattelli's credit card statements and bank accounts. He's had three unusual payments into his account over the past two weeks and another three about four months ago."

So that would correspond to the times that the rescue operations were launched to bring Davy home?

"Yes. Each of the payments came from a bogus lottery company that is part of an anonymous group with an account in the Caymen Islands. I can't identify the owner of the account."

What else is there?

"I've dug around his email and there is nothing other than the usual messages but he could be using his smart-phone to log into another email account but unless I hack into the phone company..."

Adam! His imaginary Mac shot him a dirty look.

"Sorry Boss … no more hacking! Promise!"

There is always something Adam. You've just got to look at the details. For the thing that looks out of place, that stands out from the rest.

"Yeah, right. The details … wait a minute, the details." Adam pulled up the credit card statement. "The day before he gets each payment he always goes to the same coffee house. He orders the same thing. It's always the same amount." Adam changed computer and typed in the name of the chain of coffee houses. "Okay free internet access in all their branches so they could have computers."

I think you should go and get coffee Adam.

"Yeah I think I should too. Thanks boss!"

No thank you Adam.

Adam smiled to himself blissfully unaware that the two lab techs who had stopped by the door were wondering why he appeared to be having a conversation with an invisible friend.

"CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"

"Detective Bonasera?" Atticus glanced down at the seal in his hand as he squeezed the phone between his ear and his shoulder. "One of my men found something unusual. The seal on one of the containers you requested we pull. Well, it's been broken and resealed. We have checked and there is a discrepancy in the weight. One crate is definitely missing. I've just emailed you the details." Atticus listened for a moment. "You're welcome." He put the receiver back in its cradle.

"Is that it then?" asked the tired looking man in front of him. Atticus nodded. "All that effort 'cos some idiot stole a case of fancy French perfume? Hardly a matter of national bloody security. I'm off and I had better get paid overtime for this." He slammed the door on the way out. Atticus sighed and turned back to his computer screen with its flashing red messages. The phone started ringing again.

"Stuff it!" Atticus pulled open the drawer and grabbed the packet of cigarettes.