Disclaimer: Human Target is the property of Fox. This story is my own little creation for your reading pleasure.
Author's note: I got a bit distracted with some Guerrero related smut (who wouldn't?) especially in writing "Seduction" (it's hiding under an M rating in case you haven't spotted it. Not one to read at work btw!) but I'm back on to my main story now. I've also set up a Human Target forum if anyone wants to share any thoughts, requests or prompts with all of the other HT fanfic writers. If you're stuck with an idea or have written yourself in to a corner this should be a could place to send up your SOS. Anyone I'm currently beta-ing for, don't worry this will continue as normal, I just want to get more of a community vibe going on for the HT fic writers. I want 100 HT fics on the site by the end of the year!
Winston's heart sank as Guerrero relayed the details of the conversation that had just taken place in the jail.
"So Pepler is definitely involved." Kelly said. "He recruited Bailey to take the fall."
"But we already knew that!" complained Anita, switching the television off.
"We suspected it," said Winston, "but it's good to have confirmation Miss…"
"I think we can drop all the Miss Gray and Miss Howell bit now, don't you think?" Anita said, amused by the way Winston clung to formality like a life raft in her presence. "You've been here over a day, eating our food and drinking our coffee. I think we're on first name terms now. Speaking of food… come on Kells, I'll fix us a sandwich."
Winston shot a look at Guerrero as the women walked out of the room, daring him to mention the name Laverne, but was surprised to see that he'd barely even been listening to the exchange. Guerrero had slipped his jacket on and was rummaging though his holdall, apparently looking for something.
"Where do you think you're going?" Winston asked.
"I'm going to see Powell." He replied stepping aside to allow Winston a clear view of his laptop. At first all Winston could see was the game of solitaire but as he watched the image of the cards started to distort as the whole display seemed to turn to dripping wax and melted away revealing a message in stark red letters. ONE HOUR. NEUTRAL GROUND. KILL YOU LATER. The message disappeared after a few seconds and the cards reappeared before the cycle began again.
"That's the message you've been waiting for?" Winston mumbled.
"Yeah, try to keep up big guy." Guerrero passed him the surveillance headphones and as Winston sat down he pushed another, smaller object in to his hands.
"What's this for?" Winston asked, realising he'd been handed a cheap cell phone, the kind that was usually bought with cash, left unregistered, used once and disposed of.
"This is my contingency plan. If, and only if, Chance is in serious danger you switch this on, open the pending text messages and hit send. There is only one message waiting to be sent and the number is pre-programmed in. When you get confirmation the message has been sent, turn the phone off and destroy the sim card. Don't wait for a reply. Don't make any calls. Destroy it. Got it?"
"I think I can manage that." Winston said , his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What happens when the message is sent?"
"Plan B goes into action." Guerrero said, evasively.
"Okay," he said, trying to keep his cool. "Is it safe? Does Chance know what will happen?"
Guerrero paused for a second. "He won't like it but it will get him out of there."
"Unharmed?" Winston persisted.
"Unhappy." Guerrero said as he disappeared out the door.
Winston sighed and put on the headphones.
Chance lay in the top bunk of the prison cell and tried to work out his next move. Bailey seemed to have fallen in to a restless sleep in the bunk bellow and every now and then he would hear him grumble under his breath and roll over in attempt to get comfortable. The next step in the plan had been to get Bailey to change his mind about the guilty plea but given the guy's circumstances Chance wasn't sure what hope he could offer him on the outside anyway. Dirty cops, unpayable debts and death threats aside, Chance was fairly sure that Bailey's sallow complexion was actually fairly advanced jaundice. He probably had some strain of Hepatitis or liver failure or both. Chance wondered if Bailey knew. Perhaps Bailey would be better off in jail with some form of basic health care than outside on the run from his debtors.
As he lay there trying to decide what would be the best way to go about helping him, Bailey suddenly rolled of his bunk and lurched to the rancid toilet in the corner and vomited.
"You okay, man?" Chance asked, even though it seemed his assessment of his cellmate's health was accurate. Bailey was unable to answer for a minute as he struggled with the nausea that was gripping his gut.
"'m fairly sure I'm dying but yeah." It seemed he did know. Chance wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.
Bailey climbed back in to his bunk with a weak groan. There wasn't a way to help the guy, Chance concluded sadly. One way or another, Lawrence Bailey's days were numbered. All he could do now was hope he could find out a bit more about Pepler so he could ensure Kelly and Anita's safety. Bailey was in no condition to talk right now so it would have to wait. Chance still had hours left before he was due to be "transferred" back out. He should let the man sleep, for now.
Bailey had just managed to fall back in to a fitful sleep and Chance was allowing himself to doze off slightly when he heard heavy footsteps approaching the cell. He didn't open his eyes but from the noise they were making Chance calculated that there were four men and the sound of the heavy steel-toed boots told him they were prison guards. This really did not sound good. Chance forced himself to remain relaxed and keep his breathing steady until the sound of a night stick thumping on the bars of the door allowed him to sit up and react.
"You got visitors!" Barked one of the guards. Chance recognised him as the older of the two guards that had escorted him to the cell. One of the other guards unlocked the cell door and stepped aside to let the other three men in.
As Chance dropped down from his bunk he saw that his visitors were in fact the prison warden accompanied by the sadistic guard he recognised and another who he didn't. The guard who had unlocked the door had already left, obviously in a hurry to be anywhere but here. Chance felt uneasy. A visit from the warden himself had not been part of the plan.