13 June
324 Bryant Street
2:17 p.m.

Cragen felt the hand swing away from his chest as he stepped back.

Reaching for his weapon? I can't see a thing… I need to move… now!

He rushed forward, his hands chest level and palms out. His left hand met hard metal gripped by fingers and he straightened his arm, moving the gun up and away. He turned to his left and drove his body into the man before him. Another step and they slammed against the wall.

Get that gun….

He drove his left thumb into the guy's wrist tendons then slammed the gun and hand holding it against the cement block wall. A fist pounded his back as the pinned man struggled to get loose.

"Chuck…Diane…." The guy's voice was muffled by the padding of Cragen's suit jacket. "Help…."

He heard rapid footsteps behind him.

They can't shoot me… might hit this guy… I got a couple seconds… sure could use that backup….

One more slam and the hand released its grip on the revolver. Cragen made a blind grab for it, but the weapon clattered on the floor. A leg brushed passed his knee and the gun skidded away. He brought his left hand up…

Try for a choke hold… use him as a shield… where the hell is backup?

…and the outside door flew open. Light poured from over his shoulder onto the face of the man he had pinned.

Brush cut, dark eyes wide with panic, split lip and bloody chin….

"Police!"

That's Judith….

Two shots came from right behind him. Cragen flinched, but they hit wood and cement. The light dimmed and a male voice outside shouted, "We got shots fired!"

"Back door and take him with us," Wilkerson whispered.

A hand grabbed Cragen's collar and yanked hard.

I'm not going anywhere….

He grabbed Lau's shirt with both hands and pulled him along as he threw himself backward. He connected with someone and they all three fell in a tangle of legs and arms. He heard a hollow thump and the body beneath him went limp. Lau rolled left, tearing free of Cragen's right hand. Cragen kept his grip on Lau's shirt and rolled with him, trying again to pin him, but Lau grabbed his left hand and twisted it hard. He felt something rip and his hand went numb. Momentum carried him over Lau and he caught himself, knees and right palm to floor, left hand cradled against his chest.

The door swung open again. The light showed Eristoff sprawled on his back, head against the base of the counter. Lau had regained his feet and Wilkerson already was in motion away from them.

"Run!" she shouted.

Lau jumped over Cragen and bolted after her just as two figures with weapons drawn immerged from the dazzle of bright sunlight, Judith with both hands aiming as she swept the scene with her weapon, Tucker behind with his weapon ready and a radio in his left hand.

"Hold it right there!"

Damn, Judith can yell….

The sound of footfalls faded as Wilkerson and Lau ignored Otten's command. Cragen gathered his legs beneath him and sat up, staying below the level of the countertop. Judith was kneeling at his side before he completed the move. Tucker squatted by the open door in case the fleeing rats turned back.

"Elliot," Judith said, "warn Fin—Wilkerson and Lau are running for the back door."

Cragen looked closely and saw the wire running from under Judith's hair to inside the lapel of her jacket.

Must have put it back on in a hurry… no vest… need to chew her out for that….

Elliot's voice came through the radio in Tucker's hand.

"Fin's patched in. RMPs are five minutes out."

"Don," Judith then asked, "are you okay?"

Well, I got tossed around like a bean bag, my head hurts, and I think my wrist is broken….

"Yeah, but he's not."

He pointed at Eristoff. Judith holstered her weapon. She felt his neck for a pulse then leaned in to look closely at the back of his head.

"Elliot," she said. "Did you get a bus?"

"Bus is eight minutes out," Stabler answered.

"Eristoff's unconscious but breathing. He needs attention first."

Tucker grabbed something from the counter and joined them, crouching by Judith. He placed a flashlight on the floor then held out a holster and weapon. Cragen lowered his left hand to his lap, took the holster and clipped it to his belt where it belonged.

"You sure you're okay, sir?" Tucker asked. "Your hand…."

"I'll be fine. Lau gave it a good twist, but it's still usable."

Cragen wriggled his fingers. Pain shot up his arm and he clenched his jaw to keep from making a sound. Judith reached out with a "Let me see that" frown on her face just as a distant door opened then slammed shut.

Tucker thumbed the radio's mic switch. "They're outside."

A double-click acknowledged the message. They sat in silence broken only by Eristoff's shallow breathing, waiting for word from Fin. Cragen shifted his left arm slightly, unwilling to draw attention again to his wrist.

That hurts… but hey, if this is the worst that happens, if Fin's okay….

Fin's voice came from the radio in a whisper. "Got Wilkerson cuffed. Lau never came out. Tucker, Judith—copy that?"

Judith drew in a quick breath and caught Tucker's gaze; she pointed her thumb at the back of the warehouse then nodded. Cragen tipped his head back and listened.

Don't hear a thing… that door slam must have been Lau spotting Fin then ducking back inside….

"Roger that," Tucker responded, his voice as quiet as Fin's.

Elliot's instructions immediately followed Tucker's reply. "Fin, hold your position until a RMP arrives your location then leave Wilkerson with a uni and enter the warehouse with uniform backup. Cap, you get the next RMP and the bus; watch Eristoff and that door."

Cragen drew his gun then leaned close to Judith's ear. "Got it, " he whispered.

"Judith," Elliot continued, "you and Tucker work the warehouse. Locate Lau but do not engage."

"Roger that," Judith answered. "Be advised that we're leaving the radio with Captain Cragen."

"Good. I'll advise you when backup arrives and when Fin moves in. Now, go."

Tucker put the radio by Cragen's right hand. Cragen mouthed "Be careful", saw Judith's lips tighten as she nodded then they were away: Cragen listened to their footfalls, Judith's light and quick, then Tucker's heavier tread as they leap-frogged down a row of empty metal shelves into the dark quiet of the warehouse.

Four minutes to backup… desperate rat in a trap… no vests… Saints Michael and Sebastian both better be watching over Judith and Tucker… a healing miracle wouldn't be bad, either….

He set his gun done to check Eristoff's pulse and respiration.

Shallow but steady… hope he holds until the bus gets here.

Cragen shifted to a crouch by the corner of the counter, radio by his left hand, weapon in his right, and listened.

All I want to hear is Lau shouting, "Okay—don't shoot!" and then see everyone safely out of here… only a sore wrist and an unconscious rat as the fallout from this clusterfuck… is that too much to ask?

13 June
Surveillance van
2:20 p.m.

"Chestnut One to Bronx Central Dispatch—inform responding units that shots have been fired. Three detectives and two suspects are inside the warehouse. Also request a bus this location. Advise time of arrival."

Training, experience, and discipline… when an operation blows up like this one has, that's what gets us through….

On the screen, Elliot saw Judith crouching by the security door. Tucker placed a hand on it and shoved, allowing Otten to peer around the door below its handle. She waved her left hand forward then rushed through the opening, Tucker right behind her.

I just sent two people in with no idea of what might be going down….

Tutuola: Chestnut Two to Chestnut One: In position. How long until uniforms show up?

Elliot keyed his mic. "Still waiting to hear. Judith and Tucker just entered."

Tutuola: I heard the shots. This isn't what we planned.

Elliot stared heavenward and shook his head. "Tell me about it. Advise when RMP at your location."

Tutuola: Will do. Chestnut Two—out.

Judith's voice came through her wire to the speaker. "Hold it right there!"

Elliot stared at the monitor, wishing he was in there with Judith, weapon drawn on the rats who roughed up his CO, needing the action around him…

…not stuck inside this damn white van….

Bronx Central Dispatch: Chestnut One, be advised sector cars from the Four-One should arrive in five minutes. Paramedics' arrival time eight minutes your location.

Elliot's acknowledgement was overridden by Judith's voice.

Otten: Elliot, warn Fin—Wilkerson and Lau are running for the back door.

Tutuola: I heard her, Elliot. Any word on backup?

Elliot replied on both the radio and wire frequencies. "Fin's patched in. RMPs are five minutes out."

Tutuola: Shit.

I completely agree… better get you some help….

"Central, send first arriving RMP to 324 Longfellow; see Detective Tutuola that location."

Now, someone tell me what the hell is going on in there….

Otten: Don, are you okay?

Cragen: Yeah, but he's not.

He who?

Elliot spun his chair, looking for something—anything—expendable and breakable.

I'm stuck in here… nothing but voices telling me nothing… what is going on?

Otten: Elliot, did you get a bus?"

Elliot keyed the mic. "Bus is eight minutes out."

Otten: Eristoff's unconscious but breathing. He needs attention first.

First? Who else is injured? There's you two, Wilkerson and Lau running, Cap just said he was fine….

Tucker: You sure you're okay, sir? Your hand….

Cragen: I'll be fine. Lau gave it a good twist, but it's still usable.

Elliot exhaled with a silent prayer of gratitude.

I don't have to tell the gang that I broke our captain….

Tucker: They're outside.

Elliot pressed the mic key twice, acknowledging Tucker without taking his attention from listening for Fin's report of success or trouble.

Two rats and Fin… we're spread too damn thin for this….

Seconds ticked by, marked by the digital clock on the comm unit. Elliot gripped the edge of the console, feet tapping separate nervous rhythms on the floor.

C'mon, Fin… c'mon… call me with some good news… c'mon….

Tutuola Got Wilkerson cuffed. Lau never came out. Judith, Tucker—copy that?

Otten: indecipherable

Tucker: Roger that.

Elliot struck the comm unit's top with the flat of his hand.

My choices suck—leave Lau roaming free with Cap, Judith and Tucker tied down with Eristoff, pull everyone out and risk further injury to the rat… Fin has to stay with Wilkerson… if Lau comes his way… damn it, nobody's wearing a vest… no good choices, only shitty ones….

"Fin," he said, "hold your position until that RMP arrives your location then leave Wilkerson with a uni and enter the warehouse with uniform backup. Cap, you get the second RMP and the bus; watch Eristoff and that door."

Cragen: Got it.

"Judith," Elliot continued, keeping his voice low, "you and Tucker work the warehouse. Locate Lau but do not engage."

Otten: Roger that. Be advised that we're leaving the radio with Captain Cragen.

"Good. I'll advise you when backup arrives and when Fin moves in. Now, go."

Five, ten, fifteen seconds passed, marked by the clock and the growing frustration strumming Elliot's nerves. The monitor showed only the warehouse exterior; the speakers broadcast only silence. He turned up the gain, but heard nothing but footsteps growing loud, then fading away.

They're moving through the warehouse… Tucker better know what he's doing… I don't want to tell Couch something happened to his partner… not that telling John bad news about Fin would be a picnic….

A whisper from the speakers broke that train of thought.

Cragen: Elliot?

Cap sounds worried… Tucker said something about his hand…

He tuned the mic to Chestnut Three's frequency. "Chestnut One to Chestnut Three," he whispered. "Cap, any sign of Lau?"

Cragen: No, nothing. Eristoff's breathing is getting rough. Any news on that bus?

Elliot checked the clock. "We should have backup any second now, but the bus is still three minutes out."

Cragen: Rog—

Two gunshots, their sound distorted by transmission through two microphones, came from the speakers. Another volley followed, the number of shots confused by echoes and transmission duplication.

Tutuola: Elliot, sector car's here. We're going in.

Elliot changed to the main frequency. "Fin's on his way in—Cap, what can you tell me?"

Cragen: Two shots, then three or four together from the back of the warehouse.

Shit!

13 June
324 Bryant Street
2:24 p.m.

Judith paused at the end of the row of tall, empty metal shelves to listen.

No sounds….

She peeked around the corner, a visual check too quick to make her a target.

A wide aisle running through the center of this place… no Lau… lots of dark and shadows, though… how about a heavy downpour of paint remover? Wash those skylights clean and let us see what we're doing… should be only a minor miracle, easily accomplished….

She waved Tucker forward. He passed her at a jog, crossed the wide aisle to the next row of shelving, and froze there, weapon up and ready. He checked the aisle with the same quick motion that she had used then signaled for her to duplicate his dash.

Figured him for a desk-bound rat who would need a nursemaid… my back feels much safer now that I've seen him move….

She dashed across the aisle to another row of empty shelves then pointed to her left. Tucker nodded and gathered himself. As she covered him, he ducked around the end of that row of shelves.

There, now we can work our way up two rows… checking through the empty shelves to the rows on either side… not the safest way to travel through a maze of twisty little passages, but it's quick and no one's giving us our choice of methods….

They reached the end of the row and repeated the maneuver, working their way back to the wide center aisle.

Four rows down, the rest of the warehouse left to cover….

Tucker waved at her then pointed down the aisle to the next rows to be searched. She nodded as she moved to the end of the row, ready to cover his move.

Listen… not a sound… okay—go!

She dropped her hand and he dashed to the next row. Judith watched him do a visual check on that row, clear the aisle with another visual check, then wave her forward. She drew a breath, listened again for any movement that might be Lau, and stepped into the aisle.

Head to where Tucker is, clear the aisle again, move to the next row… so far, so—

Two muzzle flashes on her left, their reports reaching her after the pffft of a projectile passing too close to her head. Instinct kicked in—crouch, aim, two-tap to the point of the flashes. On her right, a flash showed that Tucker reacted as she had, the sound of his firing lost in the noise from her own shots.

She ducked back around the shelf, pressed her back against the metal and listened.

Nothing but the ringing in my ears….

Stabler: Fin's on his way in—Cap, what can you tell me?"

She ignored the rest of the transmission and hunched over to see between the shelf supports. Something dark lay motionless where the shots had been fired.

That had better be Lau….

"Tucker? Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he answered, his voice harsh and shaky.

"Fin is on his way in—backup must be here. Cover me."

As soon as he stepped into the aisle, she ran for the downed shape. Tucker followed, keeping his weapon aimed on the shape while she holstered hers and knelt down.

It's Lau… no need for a bus… two in the chest, one each in jaw and left shoulder… one of us is grouping high…

She rocked back on her heels and looked up at Tucker. He had lowered his weapon and was staring at the body.

"That's Field Agent Greg Lau," he said, his voice thick with grief.

I shot a perp and a rat… he shot a colleague….

"I'm sorry, Ed."

He shook his head, gaze firmly fixed on Lau.

"I'm not; that skel betrayed all of us."

I can't disagree….

She raised her voice. "Chestnut One, in case you didn't read, we need an M.E. and a shooting team. I don't think IAB will let Tucker handle this one."

13 June
SVU Squad Room
3:05 p.m.

Couch Sofarelli came through the squad room door and stopped by Munch's chair. He ignored the older man's expectant gaze as he looked around the room.

They're not here, not even the captain. Damn—that makes this more likely….

He swallowed hard before looking at Munch.

"I think there's news. Where is Olivia?"

John left his chair and headed for the interview room. Inside, Olivia was sorting papers into neat stacks on the table.

"Liv?"

John got her attention as he let Couch enter before him. He then closed the door and moved to lean against a file cabinet, arms crossed as he waited. Olivia glanced from him to Couch, her face impassive.

"You learned something?" she asked.

Couch took a step sideways to get both of them in view.

"I stopped by the desk on my way in," he said. "Sergeant Valeri told me he'd heard that an undercover operation in the Bronx went south about thirty minutes ago. No firm word on casualties, but there's at least one cop dead, two injured. Valeri also said One PP has the place locked down so tight not even air can get out."

The paper in Olivia's hand crinkled as her grip on it tightened. John raised his head and drew his lips in.

"You know if it's…?" Olivia asked.

Sofarelli shook his head. "No idea at all. I tried Judith's cell; it rang then went to voicemail."

John reached into his coat pocket for his phone and poked the speed-dial for his partner while Olivia snatched hers from her belt and did the same.

"It rings and then voicemail," said Olivia.

"Odafin Tutuola—leave a message and I'll get—" John stabbed a button with his finger. "I set it to 'Speaker' and forgot to turn it off."

"I've done that," Olivia said. "I'll try Cragen."

When that call reached voicemail, she cradled her phone before her in both hands as though wishing their missing teammates might emerge from it genie-style, thus granting her wish for their safe return. John stared at the top of the file cabinet, his jaw clenched and lips tight. Couch drew in a deep slow breath.

What's happened has happened. God grant us the strength to face it, whatever it is….

Olivia broke his train of thought. "You said 'One dead, two injured.' That doesn't sound good."

"Remember," John said, "they're after rats. We might not like it, but rats count as cops."

"Yeah," she retorted, "but there's probably only one, maybe two rats being targeted. The odds still suck."

"There's dozens of operations going on at any time," Couch offered.

Both detectives turned the same bleak stare at him.

Yeah, I know… when given a choice between facts and instinct, go with the gut… and my gut says this is going to be very, very bad….