Chapter seven
"Come in," Simon barked out not wanting the interruption, but desperate for it. He'd been in his office since seven that morning after having driven in with Patton. The agent and the FBI Assistant Director were meeting with the Chief upstairs and the bullpen was almost empty. Conner was at the hospital both visiting and guarding Taggart. Ellison and Sandburg were out with that Felicia woman somewhere and would be in later. Rafe was on the phone and Brown had just come up from records.
He'd managed to get through a lot of paperwork, but now at nearly 11:30 and after his umpteenth cup of coffee he felt he deserved a break. He looked up to see Captain Mark Mason from Vice enter. A fairly new appointee to the position, Simon found him to be an intelligent officer who was good at leading his men and equally good at going to bat for them. He was turning out to be a good choice.
"Morning, Simon," the tall, good-looking, but also very bald man held a file in one hand and a mug in the other. "How's Joel?"
"Much better thanks. Already complaining about daytime TV."
"Good, good. What you got today?" He gestured with his mug.
Simon leant back in his chair and threw his pen onto his desk with a grimace. "Red berry mocha with vanilla and caramel twist."
Mason stilled and Simon could see the hesitation in his eyes. "Umm, perhaps…"
"No, just yanking your chain, Mark. It's hazelnut. Help yourself."
"God, Simon, it wouldn't have surprised me considering some of the stuff your cousin sends you." Pouring himself a mug he settled down in front of the desk and placed the file in front of his fellow captain. "As much as I'd like to chat about coffee, I'm here for something more serious. Take a look."
The MC captain opened the file and started reading. After less than a minute he looked up a grim look on his face. "How certain are you that it's Escobar?"
"Pretty certain. We've had noise for a few days that an old player was back in town, but indications were that it was someone from Canada. Last night we raided a flophouse near the docks and netted a mid-size pusher. He had some Colombian pure on him and after 'talking'," he made quote marks with his fingers, "with the ADA he agreed to tell us all he knows. It isn't much, but his supplier was definitely Colombian. He'd never seen him before. However, during one of their meetings this supplier had a long cell conversation in Spanish. Our pusher doesn't speak the language much, but he heard the name Guzman."
Simon's eyes dropped again to the file looking at a list of names. "So Guzman was one of Escobar's lesser lieutenants and there's a possibility he's taken Mendez' place?"
"We've had an influx of Colombian pure in the last week or so along with a number of South American, possibly Colombian, players. Escobar was the main distributer before and he always used Colombian nationals or American citizens of Colombian descent to distribute. So, it's a guess, an educated one, but we are pretty sure he's behind this."
"I agree. It certainly looks that way. Do you know how much has been brought in?"
Mason took a large sip of his coffee. "It's difficult to say."
"Any idea where Escobar is?"
"We've got our source working with a sketch artist. We'll send it to the Colombian authorities, but we both know not to hold our breaths. However, he's always stayed close to the action, so he's more than likely back in Cascade."
"I know a lot of his property was confiscated, but he probably has stuff all over the place we don't know about. He's probably in one of them."
"Yeah, it's gonna take time finding them though."
"If you need…" Simon was interrupted when he heard loud noises coming from the bullpen. "What the hell's going on?" He stood up and pulled open his office door, Mason on his heels. They both looked on to a scene of chaos. Henri Brown was convulsing on the floor clutching at his throat making horrible grunting noises. Rafe and a uniform were trying to calm him down, but not making much headway. A group of detectives and uniforms were looking on in horror. Rhonda was on the phone telling whoever was on the other end 'to hurry'.
Both captains strode over to where the stricken man lay.
"Rafe, what happened?"
The normally calm man looked up at his captain with anguished eyes. "I don't know. He was eating a candy bar when he started gasping and then collapsed." He turned back to his partner and grabbed his shoulders when the larger man arched up in pain. "It's all right, man. Just keep breathing. Please, just keep breathing."
"Try lifting his chest a bit," said Mason. "It might ease his breathing."
Mathews dropped to the floor and Rafe lifted the gasping man until his back was lying against his chest. He caught the flailing arms in a firm, but tight hold. It was with relief that the gathered people heard Brown's rattling breaths quieten slightly. Tightly squeezed eyes opened a slit and looked gratefully at the Vice captain.
"Does he have any allergies?" Mason asked wondering is it was anaphylactic shock.
"None that we know of. Rafe?" Banks asked his detective.
"None, sir. And anyway, he eats that bar all the time. He's got a stash of them in his drawer."
He didn't get any further as two paramedics pushing a gurney and led by a uniform, burst into the room. Within minutes they had assessed the situation and had Brown on the gurney, on oxygen and on his way to the hospital.
His partner went to follow, but Simon called him back. "Wait a moment. Mathews go with Brown, we'll be following."
"But, sir…" started Rafe.
"Rafe." He put a hand on his arm to hold him back when it was obvious the distraught man wasn't listening. "Rafe, listen!" Fortunately, the detective calmed and looked at his captain with obvious impatience. "I'll take you to the hospital. But first, you put on your flak jacket and you get gloves and an evidence bag and put Brown's chocolate stash in it." Rafe's eyes opened wide in understanding and he nodded. "Anybody see the bar H was eating?"
Someone handed him a half eaten, trampled chocolate bar already in a plastic bag. Simon said his thanks and donning his own flak jacket and summer vest he turned to Rhonda. "Call Patton and the Chief and let them know. Interrupt their meeting. It's important." He looked at Mason. "Thanks for the info. Let me know as soon as you've got something. I have a funny feeling about this." He started across the room. "Oh, and Rhonda. Connor's at the hospital. Tell her to meet the ambulance and be careful. The uniform stays with Taggart."
With that, he Rafe exited the bullpen leaving shocked men and women in their wake.
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Blair helped Felicity into the back of the car while Jim kept his ears and eyes open for possible shooters or speeding cars. Two minutes later they were speeding down the narrow, country road. Fel's first appointment of the day had been at the home of Bryant Vitta, owner of one of Cascade's biggest chain of jewellery shops. It was a luxurious villa in one of the wealthy satellite communities the rich of Cascade had created an hour north of the city. Almost a town in itself, it was remote and the only roads leading to it were mostly single track and curved through pristine pine forests.
"How did it go?" Sandburg twisted round from where he was riding shotgun and smiled at the woman. The meeting had been longer than they'd anticipated and he could feel Jim chafing at the bit.
"Oh, Blair," she replied enthusiastically, her eyes shining. "He loved some of my stuff. His head buyer's going to contact me next week and discuss terms. He wants me to supply his shops with about 50 pieces to start with."
"Hey, that's great, isn't it, Jim?"
Jim looked briefly into his rear view mirror and smiled tightly. "Wonderful. Well done." The young couple started talking about the opportunities that it represented for the jewellery maker, but he tuned them out. He rolled his neck; something was making between his shoulders itch. He stretched his sight along the road, but cursed under his breath, as he couldn't see past the bend ahead. He felt a hand land on his arm.
"What's up?" Blair asked quietly. Even though he'd been talking to Fel he'd become aware that something had been troubling the older man.
"I don't know. It's just a feeling." He began to slow the vehicle not wanting to speed into a possible ambush.
"What's going on?" Felicia's nervous voice came from behind.
"Wait a moment, Fel. I'll explain in a minute," Blair continued softly, "Okay, try your hearing." He didn't remove his hand.
Cautiously, Jim blocked out the sounds he could identify: his passengers' breathing, the sound of the engine, the wind rushing past, the river tumbling over rocks to their right…
"Shit, shit, shit!" He suddenly yelled startling the others. He slammed on the brakes and shifted into reverse in one smooth move. Twisting round in his seat he started reversing back the way they'd come. He scanned the sides of the road looking for somewhere they could turn or even hide before the people in the vehicles he'd heard waiting for them round the corner knew they'd been rumbled.
"What, Jim? What did you hear?" Blair yelled as he grabbed the dashboard.
"Ambush. Round the corner," the detective didn't waste any words concentrating on keeping the car in a straight line.
"Oh, God," shouted the younger man. "I can see them!"
Jim spared a quick look out of the front windscreen and saw a black SUV barrelling towards them about 500 metres away. There was no way they were going to out run them like this. Looking further back behind them he saw that the road dipped slightly, which meant that for a fraction of time they'd be hidden from their pursuers. "Okay. Undo your seat belts. When I say 'go', get out of the car and run into the trees as fast as you can. Stay low, but run fast. All right?"
"But what… ?"
Both men could hear the fear in Felicia's voice.
"Don't worry," said Blair in a voice that was far calmer than he felt. "Just do as he says. I'll be with you and Jim'll be right behind. Won't you?" He asked his friend sharply.
"Of course." Jim noticed with approval that Blair had already released his seat belt and was holding the gun he'd given him that morning in his left hand. He'd slipped his ever faithful bag over his shoulder and his right hand was on the door latch waiting for his go ahead. Engine screaming, the car crested the small rise and started down the other side. Ellison pulled on the handbrake sending the car into a controlled skid until it straddled the road. Putting the gearbox into park he didn't even bother killing the engine as he opened his door and leapt out. "Go, go, go," he shouted and ran round the car where Blair was helping the obviously frightened woman.
Sandburg grabbed hold of her right hand and ran towards the trees pulling her behind him. Jim wasted no time in following them. Belatedly, he realised that Felicia was dressed for a business meeting and although her shoes weren't stilettos, they were definitely unsuitable for running through a forest. To prove the point, she stumbled as one of her shoes came off, almost pulling Blair down with her. The handbag she'd been holding in her hand went flying.
Jim grabbed her round the waist and bending down he swiftly pulled off the other shoe, threw it and the other as far as he could and then put her on her feet again. He picked up her bag and stuffed down the front of his shirt grateful that she didn't seem to be the woman who needed to carry her whole life around with her. With his hand in the small of her back he started them running again.
"Just run," he urged as she went to protest. With Blair pulling and Jim pushing she had no choice but to run with them. Fortunately, the ground was covered with soft pine needles and it was only the odd twig or stone that bruised her feet. Mind you, with panic coursing through her veins she felt very little of the damage being done.
For a few seconds, just the sounds of them crashing through the undergrowth and their panting breaths disturbed the quiet. Then suddenly, behind them, came a mighty crash and the noise of metal grinding on metal. They threw themselves onto the ground as something exploded sending smoke and flames into the sky. Jim, who'd been expecting it recovered first despite the fact that his ears were buzzing. He'd had his hearing wide open listening out for pursuit. Climbing to his feet he grabbed the woman's arm and they were running again.
He knew that they couldn't last for long at this pace. Blair's leg was still weak and Felicia was running in bare feet. They needed to find somewhere to hide or, even better, some form of help. Although neither man really knew the area that well, they did know that dwellings here were few and far between. Tentatively, he sent his hearing out again. Filtering out the known sounds he strained to hear voices and was rewarded. Unfortunately, they were speaking in Spanish. His Spanish was more than adequate, but on the run like this he was finding it difficult to concentrate on the words. He could tell, however, that they were very angry. Fortunately though, and he was sure it wouldn't last, they weren't moving away from the accident site.
Suddenly, he was contorting his body as he tried to avoid trampling Felicia who'd fallen and was lying spread-eagled on the ground. He crashed into Blair and the two of them tumbled down in a tangle of arms and legs. The thought briefly crossed his mind that thankfully they'd put their guns back in their holsters while running. He could just imagine the ribbing he would have likely got from the younger man if he'd dropped his gun again. Everyone just lay there for a few moments getting his or her breath back.
"Can you – hear – them?" Gasped out Blair.
Jim held his breath for a moment and listened. "I can't hear them getting closer, but I don't think it's going to be long before they pick up our trail." He sat up and looked at the others. Felicia's face was red and sweaty and had dirt smudged across her forehead. Blair looked slightly better, but he could see faint lines of pain around his mouth. "We need to find somewhere to hole up."
"How about back up?" Blair asked while looking at Felicia worriedly. She was being very quiet and hadn't moved apart from sitting up and was now staring behind them with a frown on her face. "Have you got your cell?"
"Damn," Jim swore and stood up. He pulled his phone from his pocket. "Double damn."
"No signal, huh?"
Jim didn't bother answering, but they way he thrust the phone back into his pocket spoke volumes.
"I've got one," Felicia gestured to the bulge in Jim's shirt.
He suddenly cocked his head in the classic stance that told Blair he was listening. "No time. Come on. They're on their way." He put out his hand and pulled the younger man up.
"How many?"
"At least six."
"Fel. You need to get up." Blair leant over the woman and grasped her upper arm. "We need to go."
"Blair?" Her voice trembled as she looked up at him.
"I know," he said gently, "but please, get up."
She visibly shook herself and let herself be pulled up. The men didn't miss the wince she made as her feet took her weight. Blair sat down again and started undoing the laces on his trainers. He quickly pulled them off and handed them to her.
"No," she shook her head, "I'll be all right."
"We don't have time to argue. I've got socks on. You've got nothing."
Seeing the logic of his argument she slipped the footwear on and did the laces up tightly. They were slightly too big, but fortunately, Blair wasn't a big man. They would do – they had to.
Jim was getting more and more anxious as the group of men chasing them picked up their trail. "Come on. We need to find somewhere to hide." They started jogging gently knowing they couldn't maintain their previous speed. "Our best bet is to head uphill. Cascade's in that direction and the higher we are the more we can see. And I know it's difficult, but please try and be as quiet as possible."
Blair didn't bother asking him how he knew which direction the city lay putting it down to a Sentinel's awareness of where he was in time and space. He grabbed Felicia's hand feeling guilty that she'd been dragged into this situation.
The next two hours were pure hell for the young woman as she tried gamely to jog uphill in her 'power suit' and Blair's shoes. Her breath was coming in gasps and her already bruised feet were getting blisters. Running was not high on her list of activities and, she had to be brutally honest with herself, the extra weight she'd put on since her miscarriage wasn't helping. Perhaps she should start that diet she'd been vowing to go on.
The owner of the shoes was doing a little better, but not by much. His recent illness had sapped his natural stamina and his scarred leg was beginning to seize up. His feet, in just his socks, were also suffering and kept slipping in the pine needles covering the ground. Jim was in stoic Ranger mode as he tried to split his concentration between listening for their pursuers, deciding which direction to take and looking for a place they could hide in. He later blamed himself saying that if he'd paid more attention he could have prevented the accident.
Felicia was blindly following the two men her left hand firmly gripped in Blair's right. Sweat was dripping into her eyes and as she wiped her forehead with her suit sleeve her right foot twisted on a protruding root and she was falling. And she kept on falling as she crashed through some ferns and over the edge of a hidden bluff dragging Blair behind her. She let out a surprised grunt. Jim lurched to a halt and turned in time to see the pair of them disappear from view.
Blair, felt the tug on his hand and heard Felicia's terrified moan. Coming to a halt he tried to dig his heels in, but his weak leg gave way and he felt himself being pulled down. He let go of Felicia's hand not wanting to drag her down with him, but it was too late. He had a fleeting glimpse of greenery, Jim's startled face then he bumped into a soft body and had a momentary feeling of weightlessness. It was soon followed by a series of breath-taking knocks and then finally a blinding flash of pain when his body stopped tumbling and everything went black.
