The psychologist's breaths were coming in shallow rasps. Every breath took physical effort. Sweat was pouring over his body and he felt flushed. But at the same time he also felt cold. He felt like he was becoming distant. His eyes were only open partially. His head was spinning and thoughts didn't seem like a priority at the moment. Then it suddenly hit him what was happening.
He was running out of air.
Panic washed over Sweets. He was going to die down here. "No, no, no!" He said with a panicked tone. They were supposed to have gotten him out of here by now! Booth should be opening that coffin any minute now to bring him to safety!
Sweets could feel himself fade into unconsciousness.
Booth had resumed his pacing in Angela's office. He glanced at his watch. It was getting close to eleven. That meant 10 hours in that coffin. "Why can't we pay the money again?" Booth asked.
An exasperated Hodgins sighed. "Because they asked for eight million freaking dollars and I can't pay that much without approval from the board which would take about two days to assemble."
Booth grumbled under his breath.
That's when his phone rang. Booth looked at the caller ID.
"Is that him?" Hodgins asked.
"CAM!" Booth yelled. "GET THE FBI ON THIS CALL!"
Cam, who was down the hall in her office, yelled back, "GOT IT!"
Booth waited for the last ring before he answered. "Listen, buddy, you better give Sweets up or I am personally going to dig your grave."
"Who said he was buried, Agent Booth?"
The voice sent a chill down Booth's spine. "What do you mean?"
"Someone doesn't have to be buried underground to suffocate to death."
"So Sweets isn't underground?" Booth looked over at Angela as he said this. Angela started tapping things on her tablet and typing on her keyboard.
"You'll have to find out, Agent Booth." The voice replied. "I assure you that he's quite comfortable, wherever he is."
"Ya, I'd call being buried alive and having my shoulder dislocated very comfortable."
You could hear the smile in his voice. "Ten thousand dollars is to be transferred to the account sent to you in the next thirty minutes."
"For what reason?" Booth asked icily.
"As you've by no doubt realized, Dr. Sweets is almost out of air. In thirty minutes he'll completely run out. Ten thousand or he dies."
Click.
Booth's hand dropped to his side. "Hodgins, can you shell out ten grand?"
"What for?" He asked.
"Giving Sweets extra air."
"I'm on it." The entomologist said and ran off.
Booth jogged down to Cam's office. "Please tell me we got a trace."
Cam had the phone between her shoulder and her ear. She was scribbling something on a notepad. "Okay, thank you. I'll let him know." She slammed the phone down.
"An abandoned warehouse on Willow Avenue." Cam told him. "The FBI's on their way over right now. If you leave now you can get there the same time they do."
"Thanks, Cam." Booth said. He ran over, grabbed Bones, and then took off for his SUV.
Sweets started coughing hard. He snapped his eyes open and tried to make sense of what was going on. One second he can't breathe and the next he's choking on the air. Sweets' throat burned and his chest rippled in horrible pain every time he coughed.
He realized that he could feel a breeze. Weird considering he was buried underground. He looked around and saw a very narrow slit at the top of the board closest to his head. It was the source of the air flow. He grimaced as he realized that this would be his ticket out of here. But to do so it was going to require a lot of elbow grease and pain. He decided it was best not to think about it.
He slowly rolled from his side onto his stomach. He cried out as the pain in his shoulder increased tenfold. He pulled himself into a crouch. He tried as best he could not to rub his bare back against the sharp glass on the roof of the coffin. He then reached his hands up to the narrow slit. His bound wrists kept him from getting a good hold on the wood and the pain of his shoulder was keeping him from pulling as hard as he could. The glass started to cut his hands as he kept pulling on the edge of wood he had a hold of.
His bloodied hands slipped and he fell forward, cut his face slightly, and landed on his bad shoulder. His stomach churned and Sweets couldn't help it when he felt bile rising in his throat. The pain was bad. He tried to keep his stomach contents in his stomach, but they didn't stay there. He wiggled around so his head was as far away from the vomit as possible which also meant he was away from the air. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears forced their way out.
So much for having some dignity when they found him.
Booth screeched to a halt in front of the warehouse. His lights and siren were still blaring. Right behind him was Agent Hanson.
"Stay here for now, Bones." Booth said and then placed a hand on her stomach. "For the baby's sake." He jumped out of the SUV and pulled his Kevlar vest on. Brennan huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. She'd wait fifteen minutes.
Hanson jogged up to Booth. She already had her vest on and she had her gun out and ready. "I figured that you'd want to go in right away."
Booth nodded. "Let's go."
The two agents jogged off towards the entrance of the warehouse. Hanson ducked down and swung the door open. Booth cleared the completely empty room and walked forward. Hanson followed and kept an eye out behind them. They continued to sweep through the warehouse. It was totally empty. They came to a small office at the end of the warehouse. It had a big window that was covered by a blind. Hanson nodded and Booth kicked the door in.
The door flew back and revealed a man sitting at a computer. "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" Hanson yelled.
The man raised his hands up.
Booth was too distracted by the walls of the office to care about the man in it. A whole wall was plastered with pictures of Sweets. There was Sweets in his apartment, Sweets in the office, at the Jeffersonian, in the Diner, and even Sweets at the gym. The next wall was covered in pictures of himself and Brennan. The next one over was covered with Cam, Hodgins, and Angela. Then came a wall full of maps.
Booth then turned his attention to the man. "Stand up slowly." He growled as he walked closer.
The man did as he was told. Not a single word.
Booth put his gun in the holster and then roughly grabbed a hold of the back of the man's shirt and shoved him onto the floor. He shoved his knee into the man's back and pulled his hands back so he could cuff him. All Booth got out of the man was a grunt. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." Booth continued to read off the rights. He heard the shouts of more FBI agents and left them to deal with forensics.
By the time the man had been fingerprinted and sent through processing Sweets had been in the ground twelve hours. Booth stood outside the interrogation room and was staring through the one way mirror. Brennan was standing beside him. "He looks calm." Brennan commented.
"Too calm." Booth agreed.
"Why do you think that is?" The anthropologist asked.
Booth shrugged. He walked over to the thermometer and turned it up about eight notches. He slipped off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. "Let's make this guy sweat."
A/N: Muwahahaha. Booth interrogation scenes are soo much fun. :D Thanks for the reviews and alerts! It keeps a procrastinator like me motivated! XD
