EASY TARGET

Chapter Ten

Time slowed down.

For the first time since this whole nightmare began, Adam felt truly alone. No Mac, no Jo, no Danny. Just one frightened lab rat who had tried to be the hero.

What on earth was he thinking?

Adam crouched on his hands and knees, shaking uncontrollably as the elevator continued its inexorable descent. The grey metal walls closed in, and claustrophobia threatened to overwhelm him until suddenly, lifting his eyes, he caught sight of another figure after all - his own pitiful reflection. Like a slap to the face, it shocked him out of his panic attack.

That's quite enough of that, said the jeering little voice inside his head. Get up, Ross, and don't be such a coward. Or do you want them to drag you out of here on your knees?

Reaching up to the handrail for support, Adam hauled himself clumsily to his feet. The pain in his back was already beginning to return, now that his drip had gone, but he clenched his teeth and ignored it.

"I work for the New York Crime Lab," he whispered stubbornly to himself, like a mantra of hope. "I solve crimes for a living. One day, I'm going to be a real CSI. My friends work there too, and they care about me. They do care, and they're gonna come and find me..."

If I can stay alive long enough...

Going down to meet my doom in nothing but Spiderman boxers and a hospital gown.

That's just terrific...

Adam let out a high-pitched nervous giggle. At the same time, the service elevator slowed, and shuddered, and stopped. Backing against the far wall, he stared at the doors with frightened eyes.

Wish I had a weapon. Or something. Anything...

Wish Danny was still here.

The doors slid open to reveal an empty wheelchair.

"Take a seat, Adam," said a quiet voice - the very voice that he had been dreading all the way down. He could smell her musky perfume even now, creeping into the elevator like a harbinger of doom. Blinking fiercely, he edged forwards, holding the doors open as a last, desperate means of escape. The basement corridor was dark, and cluttered with storage boxes.

"N-no, thank you," he ventured quietly, surprised that his own voice was even working. "I don't think I want to."

She stepped into the light and, for the first time, he saw her face to face. She was a small woman, with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and features so ordinary that nothing about them stood out as remarkable. It was a face impossible to hold in your memory. The perfect face for crime. Staring at it now, Adam hated it.

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to imply that you had a choice." The woman raised her hand, which was holding a tiny pistol. How did I miss that? the little man wondered.

Stiffly, he lowered himself into the wheelchair. The pressure on his back was agony, and he couldn't help letting out a hiss of pain. The woman only smiled. Producing a handful of zip ties from her pocket, she passed him one. "Fasten yourself to the arm," she instructed, gesturing with the gun.

Adam considered refusing again, but he didn't really like the look in her eye. It was ruthless, and utterly controlled. So he slipped the tie around the arm of the chair, threading it loosely before sliding his hand through the loop. The woman reached down and yanked it tight. Now that he was secure, she laid down the gun and fastened his other arm in the same way to the other side of the wheelchair. The ties cut into his wrists with their hard plastic edges. Adam was afraid to pull on them, so he sat as still as he could. Sweat ran down his forehead from the throbbing pain in his back, making his eyes sting. "There is no bomb in the hospital, is there?" he demanded. "You made that up."

"Of course I did. How crazy do you think I am? But of course, you couldn't take the chance. And so you came down here, all alone, like the good little boy that you are. Easy target."

"Stop calling me that!" snapped Adam.

"Oh - so you can bite back." She sniffed and walked behind him, out of sight. "I call you that because that's what you are. And yet, over and over again, your friends come to rescue you. Why is that, Adam Ross? What makes you so special?"

"Nothing," he muttered. "I never said I was special. In fact, I'm anything but. They come because they're good people. They'd do the same for anyone."

"Oh," said the even voice, "would they?"

Adam shook his head in despair. "Look," he cried, "this is ridiculous. Why can't you just let me go? I'm sure that I've never done anything to you. I don't even know who you are, for pity's sake. Whatever this crazy grudge is, can't we just sort it out?" Rising, he tried to turn and face her, but his bound arms made it impossible. The woman laid a hand on his shoulder and slammed him back down into the seat. She was stronger than he had bargained for, a wiry strength that he did not fancy testing.

"Be quiet!" she ordered him. Without any warning, the gun came down hard against the back of his head. Adam's world reeled. Dimly, he could feel the woman cover him with a blanket, hiding the ties that held him in place. His vision grew blurry, and his head lolled heavily to one side.

"That's better," said the quiet voice, crawling into his dreams as he finally lost consciousness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Danny had almost reached the bottom of the stairs when he spun round a corner and fell headlong over an unexpected figure. The two bodies rolled in an awkward tangle down the last remaining steps, where they landed hard on the concrete floor, Danny uppermost. For a moment, neither man spoke, as the wind had been knocked right out of them by the fall. Eventually, Danny recovered enough breath to offer his apologies.

"Hey, man, I'm so sorry. That was totally my fault," he wheezed. "Are you okay?"

The orderly glared up at him. He was a round little man, with a pock-marked face and wispy hair that made him look uncannily like a startled infant, just waking up from its nap. There was nothing babyish about his language, however, when he finally managed to give vent to his feelings. Danny reeled back, disgusted.

"No call for that. I said I was sorry. What are you doin' down here, anyway, lurking like that?"

"My job," said the round man, sulkily. "Carrying supplies. What are you doing here? Public ain't allowed in the hospital basement, in case you don't know. That means you're trespassing. Maybe I get you kicked out, hey, clumsy man? Then you really will be sorry."

Danny shook his head. He didn't have time for this craziness. Flipping his shirt up, he pulled out his badge and shoved it in the orderly's mottled face. "I got every right to be here," he said, loftily. "Now get up and leave. I'm on a case." He rolled off the orderly, who clambered to his feet and made a great show of dusting himself down before hoisting himself up the stairs, one limping step at a time. "Overactor," muttered Danny, rudely.

Moving over to the door, he laid his fingers on the handle and held his breath. To his great relief, it moved down when he pushed it. The door opened silently, just a crack, and he held it in position carefully as he peered through the gap.

The corridor beyond lay in semi-darkness. As his eyes grew accustomed to the different light, Danny could just make out two figures, one standing, one seated in what seemed to be some kind of chair. The moment they started to move towards him, he realised what he was seeing. "Adam," he groaned, under his breath. "Where you goin', man?"

Closing the doorway, he waited for them to pass by. The woman's footsteps grew louder and then receded. Counting to thirty, he eased open the door once more and started to tiptoe down the corridor, keeping a safe distance. The seated figure, the one that could only be his friend, never moved or spoke a single word. The back of Danny's neck crawled at the thought of what she might have done to him, but he pushed the images away, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He couldn't slip up now. Not again. Adam was counting on him.

A sudden noise behind him made him spin round in alarm - only to find a gun pointed right at his face.

"Got you, clumsy man," sneered the orderly.