Cascade City/County Detention Center
Hallway outside Cellblock #4
15:10 hours
Stacie Harrington handed her radio to Lieutenant James, who was shaking his head. "Stacie, I don't like this. Sounds like Sandburg's going to go vigilante on us."
"I don't think so, Joey." She shook her head as he turned a perplexed gaze up at her. "Don't ask me why I think that, I just do."
"Woman's intuition, Stace? Or have you become more than a simple former Marine turned cop?" He'd been her Sergeant before taking over the Tactical Team, and with their often-rocky relationship, Stacie wondered if the man would ever learn that she didn't like his idea of humor.
"Just a hunch, okay?" She turned her attention to the large steel door separating her from the inside of Cellblock 4. Her own hand had disabled most of the electronic locks when the incident had started over two hours ago. The card readers would no longer work, for there were at least two such cards in the possession of Rikky Martinez or one of his men, so Stacie would have to use the keypad and her override codes to open the solenoid lock. Before punching in the last digit of the string of ten numbers, she glanced back over her shoulder at the Lieutenant. "Watch my six, will you, el-tee?"
The Lieutenant nodded, accepting the responsibility, his face showing his dread as she entered the final number, yanked open the door and walked into the cellblock. Her back was being covered by no less than seven men, but two of them weren't wearing body armor. If Stacie was able to pull off her end of the plan, part of the manpower would be needed to pull Harris to safety.
Before keying in the code needed to open the inside gate to cellblock 4, Stacie pulled her shoulders back and fell into a parade-ground perfect stance of attention. Looking beyond the gate, she could see Martinez waiting as his followers moved in to stand behind the hostages. Her face a mask of solid stone, she keyed in the proper code and, as the door released, walked into the cell.
15:12 hours
The grating, rolling sound of the main cell door being unlocked caught the attention of every man in the room. Even the inmates who had locked themselves into their individual cells held bars in tight fists as Stacie walked into the cellblock. She could almost feel the tension floating in the air. Allowing her gaze to slide pass the grouped Hispanics, she spotted Jason Kilarney, who had been forcibly moved into his cell by Caldones. She allowed herself to feel some relief. The inmate was a nice guy in a bad situation and had worked with her in the past, shifting furniture from office to office while talking politics. She'd even rewarded Jason by buying a Pepsi for him, taking him outside, and letting him have a smoke. But that part of her couldn't be allowed to show in here, not now. She had to be a different woman, one who few people ever saw outside of the Marine Corps.
Richard "Rikky" Martinez was looking down the short hall, having spotted her. Stacie saw him signal his crew. Then he was approaching her, stopping only when he stood a few feet away from the gate as she opened it.
Leaving the door hanging open behind her, Stacie took three steps into the room, halting only when Martinez gave the order.
"That's far enough, Chica." He closed the distance between them and addressed her again. "Remove your shirt."
"What?" What the hell was this?
"You heard me." Rikky moved his hand and Stacie watched as three knives went to three throats. "Take off the shirt. Have to be sure that you didn't bring something in here that could harm one of us."
Keeping her mission face intact, she reached up and unbuttoned the top button of her uniform shirt then unzipped the hidden zipper. Shrugging out of it, Stacie revealed the gray heather sports bra that was all she had on under the blouse. Holding the blouse out at arm's length, she struggled not to shake apart as the oily gazes slipped over her form. The only wolf-whistles or catcalls to ring through the room came from Martinez and his crew.
"Very nice, Chica. Now, turn around - slowly." His smile grew more predatory as she complied with his command, and he reached out to snatch the light blue shirt from her hand.
Spinning back around to face him, not that she ever really took her eyes off of him for more than a split second, she saw him bring her uniform up to his face and sniff it. Her mask slipped as her eyes narrowed in disgust.
"Very nice. Too bad I didn't know you before getting stuck behind these walls. We could've partied well together, I think."
Enrique, Manuel and "Papa" pulled their hostages to their feet. That last phrase Rikky had used must have been a prearranged signal, and Stacie saw that the three men were keeping their shanks pressed to the exposed throats of the hostages.
Jim tried to make eye contact with the female guard to warn her, as he felt the knife that Enrique was holding to his jugular press hard against his flesh. He had managed to work his hands out from behind his head, as had Cartwright and Deans. While it had hurt to twist his wrists in the nearly too tight hinge cuffs, Jim now had more freedom of movement, for what little good it would do him. Cocking his head slightly to one side, he opened up his sentinel hearing, trying to find out if the lone female guard had backup outside. His attention was caught by something else.
>Come on, Jim! Open your damn ears! I know you can hear me. I just need a sign. Nod or something.
Blair's voice! Where the hell was he? Moving his head, as if trying to get Enrique to lessen the pressure, Jim piggybacked his sight to his hearing and, looking in a mirror across the cellblock by the bathroom area, saw his Guide's reflection. He was lying in the ventilation shaft, and he was armed! But how to signal that he had, indeed, heard him? The pressure on his neck let up and he smiled as he straightened up, barely nodding.
>Yes! You hear me! Blair was obviously fighting to keep his voice steady, quiet, and yet audible. At least to Jim's ears. Okay, we're going to get you out of there, but you have to be ready to slam the dials way down on your hearing when you hear me say "Green". Smirk or something if you got all that. I'll see it. The look that crossed Jim's face was one which he'd been told could freeze even the most hardened criminal hearts.
>Oh, there's that patented Ellison glare. Thanks, Jim. Now, relax and just be ready to move. Jim watched in the mirror as Blair shifted slightly, resting the body of a rifle in the palms of his hands. Having very little else to do, the sentinel zeroed his vision in on the weapon. It looked like a Ruger Mini-30, possibly the civilian model, which meant that Blair had five rounds in the magazine and maybe one in the chamber. But could his friend take the shot when he needed to? Jim's attention was pulled back to the only female in the room as she responded to the naked innuendo in Rikky's remarks.
"Not likely, Martinez. You're not my type. I came here for a reason. Let's get down to business."
With a casual move, Rikky threw the woman's shirt onto one of the bolted down tables to his side. "You might change your mind, Chica." Stepping off to one side, the inmate cleared a path for her. "You want Harris, take him."
Stacie moved slowly, warily passing the inmate as she glided over to where Harris lay on the floor. Jim noticed that she was forcing herself not to look at Blevins' body or the thickening pool of blood. He couldn't blame the woman, and watched as she dropped to one knee beside her coworker. "Brodie? Can you walk?"
Brodie Harris opened his eyes, and answered her soft-spoken question. "Stacie. Maybe. Help me up?"
Reaching out with both hands, she grabbed him by the forearms, braced herself and hauled him to his feet. His gasp of pain reminded Jim just how injured the man was. And must have reminded the woman as well. "Sorry, B."
Panting against the pain, Harris stood there, clutching her arms. Finally, he let go and started to walk towards the gate and his freedom. Jim couldn't help but notice how Stacie assisted him, supporting Harris by wrapping one arm around his waist.
"Stop, Chica." Both guards froze, bodies tensing visibly. "Keep going Harris, I just want to talk to the lady for a minute." It was going to happen, right now, in front of him and there was nothing that Jim could do, or say, to prevent it or warn the female guard.
Letting go of Harris' waist, she gently pushed him towards the gate, her voice steady as Jim listened to her reassure the wounded man. "Go, Harris. I'll be right behind you." She waited until Harris was past the gate before she turned to face her tormentor.
"What now, Martinez?" Her soprano had dropped half an octave, upping the intensity.
Rikky walked up to her, closing in on Stacie's personal space. The inmate circled her, touching her body in random places: her shoulder, her lower back, her hair, from which he pulled bobby pins, causing the mass to spill down her back. Jim could only watch as the man stalked the woman like a cat waiting to pounce on a helpless mouse. Rikky slowly paced around her until he was facing her again. Then he used the collapsible baton he'd taken from Harris to gently caress her exposed collarbones. "You should wear your hair down more often, Stacie."
Jim saw the slight shudders race through the woman's body before she answered. "Against policy." She was cool, factual, and it only seemed to amuse Martinez, who chuckled at her.
"So serious. Why not stay here and keep me company, Chica?" He leaned closer to her, the baton resting against her neck. "We could have some 'fun' before I leave."
>Jim? Get ready. I can't let him touch her again. Jim turned his gaze back to the mirror and watched as Blair shifted the ballcap on his head around, putting it on 'backwards' so that the bill wouldn't interfere with his ability to shoot.
Inside, where no one could see it, Jim allowed himself to smile at the words of his partner. He might have a reputation for being a libertine, but Blair Sandburg was one of the most gallant men he knew. Chivalry might be dying a slow death in the rest of the world, but it had a torch carrier in the Shaman of the Great City.
15:31 hours
Lieutenant Joseph Joel James watched as Brodie Harris stumbled out of the door, without Harrington, and into the waiting arms of Manrique Valdez and Billy Ray Johnson. That's when the man's pain filled eyes found him, and he gasped out, "Joey, get in there! Rikky's planning on raping Stacie!"
Joey hissed in anger. "Not on my watch, he won't! Valdez, Johnson, get him up front. The medics are waiting." Turning to the rest of his team, he moved them into position behind him, for he would be the first through the door when the time came. Keying the radio, he spoke.
15:32 hours
//Command, did you catch that?//
"Yes, we did, Joey." Rick Johansen was leaning against the control panels, his gaze fixed on the main view screen. "Martinez is too close to Stacie right now for you to move in - wait for the signal from Eagle."
//Roger.//
Glancing over at Simon Banks, Rick voiced the question racing through his mind. "What the hell is Sandburg waiting for?"
Simon tore his eyes from the scene being played out in Cellblock 4 and literally snapped at him. "Probably a clear shot!"
Silence crashed into the control room and Rick noticed that none of his people dared look towards him or Simon. The techs Stacie had left in charge of the boards kept their eyes on the monitors. David Jacen kept trying to quietly raise Sandburg on the radio. The only other sound to intrude on the tableau was the soft crackling of the tactical team's radios as they set up.
//Gold and Blue, make ready.//
//Ready.//
//On mark.//
Rick locked gazes with Simon, neither one of them budging as the words from the tactical team rolled into the quiet room. Banks didn't break eye contact as he softly spoke to him. "Rick? Trust me, Sandburg won't let anything happen to Stacie or the hostages. He's just waiting for the right moment."
Breaking contact, Rick looked back to the main screen. "It had better happen soon."
15:35 hours
Apparently Stacie couldn't take the invasion of her space anymore and slid one step backwards causing the baton to drop off her shoulder. "You must have a death wish, Martinez."
Pulling the metal baton back up, Rikky stared at the brunette. "Not me, Chica. But it looks to me like you do. I didn't tell you that you could move."
Her voice dropped into the temperature range of liquid helium. "Touch me again, and we'll see who's got the death wish."
Rikky actually growled. Guess no one had ever told him 'no' before, Jim thought. Good for Stacie. "Enrique, the choice is hers. Kill him." Jim's head was yanked backwards. He could feel the knife break the tender flesh under his left ear and his heart thudded to a halt before Stacie suddenly yelled.
"NO!"
"Wait!" Rikky's voice held a tinge of triumph. "You have something to say, Chica?" Enrique released his head and Jim was allowed to see the scene playing out before him.
Stacie wasn't watching her torturer but, rather, locked gazes with Jim. He could tell that she was looking at the side of his throat where Enrique had started the slice. He tried to convey to her that he was all right, that she didn't have to do anything…
"What do you want?" Before her voice had been full of confidence and self worth. Now it was full of bitter, utter defeat.
>Jim, get ready to dial it back. You'll have to take it to 2 or lower.
Taking a few steps away from the subdued female guard, Rikky motioned for her to follow him, but she didn't. "Chica? All I have to do is give Enrique the word and Ellison is dead. His blood will be on your hands."
Jim cringed as Stacie took a step towards Rikky, who was playing with the baton that he'd used earlier to crack two of the sentinel's ribs. The inmate was still trying to twirl it around in his hand and failing miserably. Jim couldn't believe that the woman was actually going to do as the inmate obviously wanted her to. Hadn't she been trained for this kind of situation? Damnit.
15:37 hours
"Don't do it, Stacie. Don't give the bastard what he wants…" Rick's voice echoed in the control room. He watched in horror as the woman moved to follow the inmate.
Behind him, Simon was willing Blair to take the shot - Martinez was in the clear! No hostages were around him and Harrington was not in the line of fire.
15:38 hours
Blair tightened his grip on the rifle, making ready for the shot that would put Martinez down, when his inner voice told him to switch targets. Blindly obeying the whisper in his mind, he chose. Jim, when I give the word, drop to your left.
Stacie stopped. And even from where Blair sat, rifle at ready, he could see her lock gazes with Martinez. "I don't think so, Rikky." The steel that had left her voice was back and the fury was no longer banked.
"Excuse me?" Martinez brought his baton back in a threatening gesture, as if he was going to strike Stacie.
>GREEN!
Jim moved to his left just as Stacie exploded into action, Blair fired his first shot, and the men Jim had heard waiting in the halls outside burst into the cellblock.
At the hoarse shout of his Guide, Jim Ellison dropped in the direction that Blair had instructed him to move. He pulled the control dial back on his sensitive hearing just in time, as the rifle barked and hot fire flared across the top of his right shoulder. He heard, and felt, when the round that had creased his flesh entered the chest of the man behind him and Enrique Carbajal ceased to exist, dead from a single shot to the heart, fired by Detective Blair Sandburg.
Stacie Harrington had had enough of Rikky Martinez's crap. 'Show time, girl.' Pivoting on one foot, she aimed a blazing spinning back kick at the inmate's arm, disarming him of the baton, then followed up with a snap-kick to the Hispanic's thigh, making contact with the nerve cluster. The man dropped like a poleaxed bull. She danced back out of range as a second shot rang out.
Blair had fired his first shot, taking out the inmate behind his Sentinel, then moved on to his next target, lost in the cold fire of his mission. He squeezed the trigger a second time and Martinez died. He was aiming at his next target, "Papa" Caledones, when the tactical team swarmed into the cellblock, getting into his line of fire.
//GO!// Lieutenant James yelled into his radio at the sound of the first shot. As he entered the cellblock, he saw Stacie dancing away from a fallen Martinez, then the man's chest blossomed a red flower as a second shot rang through the room. Bringing his handgun up to bear on his target, Joey pulled the trigger on the run, taking out the man standing behind Deans, just as Gold's squad leader took his own shot and the inmate that had started to push his knife into Cartwright's back fell.
Blair relaxed his grip on the rifle, letting it clatter to the floor of the air duct as he started to shake. His mind blanked on every detail of what he'd just done, except one. As much as space would allow, he started to rock back and forth as he muttered, "Oh, my gods. I shot him, I shot my own partner, I shot Jim." The words spilled from his mouth, over and over, in a sick imitation of the calming mantra he used when meditating.
Pushing his way past the fear that had engulfed his heart, Blair looked back down into the cellblock to see Stacie pushing her way through the tactical team. She was trying to get to Jim. That was his job. Pushing the Ruger out of his way, he pulled his body around, earning a few more bruises, then pushed his feet out the opening, and readied himself to drop to the floor. Before he dropped, he caught sight of Stacie as she delivered a resounding slap to the back of Lieutenant James' hand, who was trying to hold her back, and forced him to release her. Looking at the distance he'd have to drop, Blair tried to gather his courage, watching as the former Marine snatched her uniform blouse from where Martinez had thrown it, then raced over to Jim's side. She ripped open his partner's ruined shirt and pressed her makeshift compress against the sentinel's bleeding wound. Jim nodded at her, then blue eyes met his and Blair needed to get to the ground now.
Twisting around one last time, Blair slithered out of the vent and dropped to the floor of the cellblock. But instead of landing on hard flooring, he landed on something soft that let out an "oomph" as it broke his fall. He still felt his right knee give way and pain flared up his leg. Rolling to his left, he realized whom he'd landed on. How Stacie had gotten from Jim's side to where she had became his landing mat, he'd never know. He just assisted her to her feet and then accepted her help to reach his partner's side.
Rick ran through the corridors of his facility, just a few paces ahead of Simon and the paramedics. He wasn't normally one to let others face danger, but this time he'd been forced to merely watch and observe. Entering Cellblock #4, he looked for Stacie and saw her standing over the two detectives that were under Simon's command. She seemed to be okay, even if she was out of uniform.
Reaching out, he pulled on Simon's arm to clear the way for the paramedics who needed to get through, followed by more of his guards. Even before the wounded and dead were removed from the bloody scene, inmates who had locked themselves down would be transferred to other cellblocks. It was going to be a long, messy process, but once Rick and his people had done their jobs, written reports and conducted interviews, he would gladly turn the whole SNAFU'd incident file over to Internal Affairs and whatever Federal Investigators were called in to handle the 'after-action' study.
He hadn't even realized that he still had a grip on Simon's arm, until his friend shook it off. Rick watched as the man approached Sandburg, Ellison and Stacie. Once more, he was surprised to see the normally stoic Banks kneel down beside the young man, who was holding on to his partner's hand, and offer comfort to Sandburg, all while trying to stay out of the way of the medics who were starting to treat Ellison.
Glancing at his watch, Rick made a mental note to himself. 'Richard Andrew, you are getting too old to handle ten hour shifts with this much bullshit packed into them.' Then he rubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair and could swear that he felt more gray hairs there.
