Flashback- Chapter 7

Sara Sidle leaned back in her seat and stared at her computer screen. She had contacted the Naval Medical Center-San Diego and was able to make contact with Captain John Bower, a psychiatrist with the Special Psychiatric Rapid Intervention Team (SPRINT). Sara held her cell phone to her head as she waited for any information that would help to identify the sniper.

"Captain Bower, I understand that patient confidentiality is important, but I think that you may have a missing man who is shooting up the Nevada desert. Any information that you can relay to us would be very helpful."

Looking through his files, Captain Bower wrinkled his brow. "Ms. Sidle, I realize that the Las Vegas Crime Lab is trying its best to get this shooter of yours into custody. I just want to make sure that any patient we have who is missing is the same one out there in the desert. Do you have a physical description or any physical evidence of this shooter that we can compare with any of our patients?"

"To tell you the truth, Dr. Bower, all I have are suppositions at this point. I'm transmitting what we have on our shooter. Once again, I know I'm on a fishing expedition here, but we're pretty sure that he's using a M40, which is used exclusively by the Marines. I'm transmitting what we know about the shooter and also included is a description of the area where this sniper has been shooting up. What I have also included is a list of Marines who have recently come back from hot zones. Please get back to me as soon as possible."

Sara hung up the phone and sighed. She was sure that she was on to something and hoped that the information she had sent the captain would be enough for the Navy to release their records on any returning personnel who might be have gone missing. Sara picked up the phone and checked for the next naval hospital on her list. She dialed the number for the naval hospital at Camp Pendleton.


Jim Brass and the six uniformed officers with him moved stealthily up the side of the road to the trail head of Red Rock Canyon. There could have been any number of legitimate reasons why his men or the CSI's could not be raised on the radios. The police captain just couldn't think of any at the moment. His cop instincts told him that things were going from bad to worse. The dread was growing in leaps and bounds as he and his men neared the trailhead.

Parking their squad cars a quarter of a mile down from the trail, Brass did not want to alert any intruders of their presence. The sun had set and darkness was descending quickly. The road leading up to the canyon seemed deserted. Brass had two of his men check the dirt roads leading off the main road leading up through the canyon. Though he didn't bring any SWAT with him, he did make sure that the men who came with him were armed with rifle equipped with night scopes. At this point, there was no justification to call out SWAT based just on Brass's uneasiness.

As Brass led the other men up the road, he was stopped by the two he had sent to investigate the two side- roads as they hurried to catch up with their comrades.

"Captain," reported Officer Sparks, "there's a silver Escalade parked in among the brush just off that side- road. It's locked, but the engine was still warm. I'd say that it's been there about an hour."

Brass paused for a moment. "Damn! You didn't see anyone near the vehicle? How about footprints?"

"Looks like there were three distinct sets. Boots most likely and headed back to the main road going our direction."

Brass shut his eyes trying to think. This was not good at all. Damnit Gil! You just had to go after the evidence right then, didn't you? Why couldn't you have waited until daylight?"

"Oh right…oh right," said the captain with resignation, " We've got a team of men up there incommunicado. Two, possibly three suspects, missing, and our team up there don't know these guys are missing. That Escalade could belong to someone who just is out for a hike. Sparks, you and your partner get down from this canyon and as soon as you get cell coverage, get confirmation on the ownership of that SUV. I have a feeling that it's a rental, stolen, or belonging to one of our suspects. If any of this is confirmed, I want SWAT ordered and back-ups on my authority. No lights or sirens – silent running. You stay back and lead the cavalry in, you got that? Hustle! Now get going."

Brass turned and watched Officer Sparks and his partner run back to their squad car in a dead run. Turning to the remaining men, the police captain had just decided to wait for back-ups and have the remaining men stay off the main road and wait in the safety of the brush, when Brass heard shots being fired towards where Grissom and Nick were investigating.


Armed with 357 magnum revolvers, Jason Cattelier and his two men silently approached the trailhead. Yellow crime scene tape still roped off the entrance to the narrow part of the canyon. Noting the patrol car and the crime lab Denali, Cattelier motioned for Damien and Swensen to split up. They would each circle around and survey the area for police personnel. Given the fact that there was only one patrol car parked on the side of the road, Cattelier was reasonably sure that there were probably only two officers left to guard the crime scene.

Cautioning his men not to fire, he wanted to catch whatever officers standing guard over the area by surprise. Much to his delight, Cattelier observed that only one officer was at the entrance of the trailhead. That made things much easier. The would-be racketeer silently observed Officer Harmon as he casually leaned against his patrol car, apparently bored with this detail.

Motioning for Swensen to take care of the officer, Cattelier watched as Swensen stealthily approached the officer and catch Harmon by surprise. Before Harmon could react, Swensen had thrown a devastating punch to the officer's face and then had knifed the downed officer in the chest. Harmon died quickly, and Swensen dragged the officer's body into the brush.

Cattelier and Damien joined Swensen as he emerged from the brush where he had deposited Harmon.

Cattelier pointed up the trail. "There's probably another officer up there with a couple of investigators. They should be easy to take care of. We make quick work of the police up there, get the stuff, and split. We're in, and we're out. Let's go."


The sniper cocked the trigger back. Grissom, disoriented and dizzy, gazed up at the man crouched above him and followed the aim of the assault weapon towards Nick. Quickly looking back at up at the camouflaged man, Grissom could just make out a name on the man's left breast as the letters drifted in and out of focus. Making an assumption, he decided to take a chance.

"Petersen, d..don't shoot," rasped Grissom as he reached up to try to grab the man's arm.

The man glanced quickly down at Grissom and then back at Nick. "Murph…Murphy…," he said in a slightly confused voice. "You're wounded. We need to get you outta here before the locals find us. This guy could lead them to us."

Nick, seeing that Grissom was conscious and engaging the man with the rifle, took a couple of steps closer to his weapon that he had laid on the ground. Grissom was obviously connecting with this guy somehow, though Nick couldn't tell what was being said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Grissom noticed Nick's movement and said in a low voice, "Nick, don't move."

Nick straightened up and froze. Grissom turned his attention back to the man who was still aiming his weapon aimed at his CSI. The injured man mentally scrambled for a way to get Petersen to lower his weapon.

"Pete..Peterson, he's here to help us. If…if you shoot, the shot will bring others here, be…before we can get away," Grissom ground out through gritted teeth. His head was throbbing as he fought to keep his mind focused on the situation.

"Okay, Murph. yeah, yeah, that makes sense, but can we trust him? Who is he?" Petersen said softly, not daring to take his eyes off of Nick, but lowering the rifle slightly

"Jus..just someone I trust," gasped Grissom as the pounding in his head intensified.

"Look, I have a first-aid kit in this back pack," Nick said as he deliberately lowered the pack off of his shoulders. "We can give him something for the pain."

Petersen looked down uncertainly at Grissom and then looked back at Nick. For Petersen, standing before him was not a member to Las Vegas law enforcement, but a man dressed in traditional Afghani garb, speaking in Farsi. He didn't understand what this local had said but he obviously thought that the pack he was holding out was something that he thought would help Murphy. He stared at the figure standing a few feet away holding the pack out to him.

Petersen looked down at the prone figure lying at his feet. The man was losing his battle to stay conscious as his movements were becoming more and more lethargic. Licking his lips, Petersen waved his gun at Nick. His knowledge of Farsi was limited; Murphy was the linguist, but Murphy was in no condition to properly advise him. Looking back at Nick, Petersen decided to take a chance. Murph did stop me from shooting him. He must be our contact, but I can't let him go now. I'll ne ed him to help me with Murph, but if he's caught with us, his life and the lives of his family will be forfeit. He doesn't seem to want to leave. Okay then, he's willing to help.

Staring back at Nick, Petersen signaled that Nick should pick up his Glock and toss it towards him. Nick warily picked up the weapon by the barrel and tossed towards the sniper. Petersen crouched forward, and, with his right hand training his assault weapon on Nick, picked up Nick's Glock and tucked it into his waistband.

Petersen slowly lowered his weapon and spoke hesitantly, "Bekahshid. Farsi e man bad ast."

Nick took a deep breath and relaxed a little. The camouflaged man had backed down. He was obviously concerned about Grissom. In that, both of them seemed to want the same thing- to get Griss medical attention. As Nick was contemplating his next move, more shots rang through the dark night. Petersen and Nick both hit the ground.

Looking the few feet across the clearing, the man was signaling for Nick to crawl his way over to him and Grissom. Nodding to let the man know that he understood, Nick crept forward on this hands and knees, dragging the pack with him. He crawled forward until he was on the opposite side of Grissom than Petersen.

Noticing his name on his camouflaged jacket, Nick asked, "Petersen, we need to get him help." Nick's eyes met the man's eyes and nodded down to Grissom.

Petersen merely looked back at Nick, not seeming to understand what he had just said. The CSI looked back down at his boss and, with slow deliberate movements, checked the makeshift bandages on both Grissom's arm and head. Grissom felt clammy to the touch, and his breaths were coming in shallow gasps. He was slipping into shock.

"Grissom…hey, Griss! Can you hear me?" asked Nick desperately in a low voice. Grissom's deep blue eyes cracked open and sought out Nick's worried face.

"I…I'm here, Nick," whispered the injured supervisor. Nick was weaving in and out of focus, and Grissom was dimly aware of his surroundings. The Texan's voice seemed to be coming from a long distance, and Grissom concentrated on that voice to avoid slipping further away.

"Griss, this guy isn't the one who has been shooting at us, otherwise we'd already be dead," breathed Nick quietly so that only Grissom could hear.

Grissom nodded his head slightly in agreement. More shots were fired over the three men as Nick crouched lower over Grissom in order to protect the man from further injury. Nick looked up quickly at Petersen who had grabbed his arm and was pointing down at Grissom. Through gestures, Petersen indicated that they needed to help Grissom to his feet and to find a safer place away from the shooting.

Nick felt the piercing eyes of Petersen on the back of his head as he tended to Grissom, but he didn't really care at the moment. His main concern was Grissom, who was barely hanging on. The man with the assault rifle tapped Nick on his shoulder to get his attention.

Nick waved his arm impatiently away at the man. His shoulder was tapped again, and Nick angrily glanced up at him. His anger softened slightly when he saw the worried look on the man's face. Again Petersen gestured the need to find a safer place as more shots were fired over their heads. Nick closed his eyes briefly and reluctantly nodded his agreement with Petersen.

Slinging his weapon across the back of his shoulder, Petersen crouched down and helped Nick bring Grissom to a sitting position. Gingerly sliding the semi-unconscious man's injured left arm around his right shoulder, Nick waited until Petersen had positioned Grissom's other arm over his left shoulder. Catching each other's eyes, they both slowly stood, being careful not to stand fully erect as more random shots were being fired in their direction.

Petersen jerked his head in the direction that would lead them up towards the springs but through the brush.

"Ajaleh kon!" whispered Petersen urgently.

Nodding in the directions of the springs and then in the direction of the man they were holding up, "Davaa," Petersen continued and indicated that they should move quickly through the brush.

Nick had no idea what Petersen had just said, but it was clear that Petersen thought that the best solution for their situation would be to head up the trail to the springs. Their attackers were behind them as far as Nick could tell so heading further up the trail seemed to be the most sensible thing to do.

As they struggled to half-carry, half-drag Grissom between them, the injured man slowly regained consciousness. Searing white hot pain shot up his left arm and traveled through his upper torso, nearly taking his breath away. He tried to regain his footing, unsure whether the desperate panting he was hearing was those of the men who were carrying him or his own pain-filled gasps. The pulling and jostling made him feel as though his head might just explode off his shoulders.

They had lurched some distance towards their destination when Grissom gasped,"Nick, I…I…need to stop. I can't…can't,"

With the pain increasing by leaps and bounds with every step, Grissom wasn't sure if he had actually said those words. The blurred image of Nick's panicked face compelled Grissom to suck in his breath, grit his teeth, and continue the struggle through the underbrush.

As the three men crashed through the sage and creosote brush, shots continued to be fired in their general direction. Approaching the springs, Petersen slowed them down and paused so that their injured companion could catch his breath. Nick quickly took out the first-aid kit, hoping to find something that might give Grissom some relief. He glanced up to see Petersen staring down at Grissom with worry clouding his features.

Murphy, you don't look so good,man. Your partner there seems to know what he's doing though. The med kit he brought with him doesn't have much to help you. We're close to the buried supplies. I watched them bury them last night. Knew that you'd be coming here to get them. There should be something in there to help with the pain, and we can get you back to the rendezvous point. Our relief should be here soon and we can get the medics to help you.

Now that they had stopped and they were at the end of the trail, the shots had become less random. Nick scanned the area around the springs. They were essentially boxed in. Besides going back down the trail, it looked like the only way out of this part of the canyon was a narrow crevice just wide enough for them to go through single file. It would be all but impossible to get Grissom through that. Nick threw himself quickly over his injured boss as another round of shots was fired. He looked over to where Petersen had been standing to find that the man had hit the deck. Petersen lifted his head, and their eyes met.

Slowly, Petersen reached into his waistband and lifted Nick's service weapon. He tossed the weapon the Nick and indicated that he was circling back around towards the back wall of the canyon.

"Bar migardam…negaran nabashid…," Petersen whispered urgently, staring at Nick.

The Texan stared, back not really understanding what the man said but understanding that he trusted Nick to take care of Grissom, and simply nodded. Nick watched the man back away and then disappear through the brush.


A/N: Okay folks, a couple of notes here. Sorry that it has taken me so long to post this chapter. Hope that it flows okay and that I didn't leave too many holes. This is un-beta'd so all errors and mistakes are mine and mine alone. The following information for you all-

The language that Petersen is using is Farsi or Dari, which is used with approximately 40% of the population in Afghanistan. Farsi or Dari is a Persian based language but is one of the major languages used in Afghanistan.

Some translations:

When Petersen first talks to Nick in chapter 6:

Esma shoma chieh- What is your name?

Chapter 7:

Ajaleh kon!- Hurry up!

Davaa- medicine

Bar migardam…negaran nabashid- I will be right back…Don't worry.

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becky