"Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string."

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

The Iron String

Chapter 10

Turning his head, Esposito consulted his companions, drawing Sherry's attention to the people in the back seat. Cross and a woman.

Over his shoulder, Esposito said, "Make room for her, guys."

There was the sound of someone moving to the center of the bench seat. Sherry jerked open the door, climbed inside and buckled up before examining her seatmates. Next to her was a slender woman with short wavy brown hair and blonde highlights. On the far side of her, Cross was watching her with an unreadable expression, his thumb and forefinger tugging at his bottom lip, the other hand holding her laptop on his knees. Though his gaze was intense and unblinking, she didn't for a moment get the feeling that his interest was sexual. Why did Michael hate him? He seems harmless for a cop.

Now the woman was watching her too, and with that same stare so that Sherry began to feel like a bug under a microscope. Cross finally looked away, going back to work on the computer he'd taken and she sagged in relief, until Esposito said, "Talk to us."

"Michael had a bunch of computers all hooked up going all the time. Most of it I didn't understand, but I remembered seeing stuff about the United Nations. A list of the countries maybe, and their people here."

For a moment, Sherry thought Esposito wasn't going to say anything, then, "Thanks. That confirms what we suspected."

"There's somethin' else. There was times when he looked at me and it sorta seemed like he thought I was someone else, just for a little while. Then he'd shake his head and go on about his business. A couple of times, he called me by another woman's name."

That got Cross's attention again. "Marta?"

"Yeah! She a girlfriend or wife or somethin'?"

Ignoring her question, Cross asked another that confused her. "Did he ever mention someone by the name of Peter Boyd?"

"Don't think so. Why?" Again Cross ignored her and went back to beating the crap out of her computer. "I'm not gettin' my laptop back, am I?"

The man in the front seat with the messy hair spoke for the first time. "Sorry. Evidence."

The SUV moved into traffic, and though the trip took at least twenty minutes, no one said another word until they parked in front of the Twelfth Precinct main entrance. Angry, Sherry blurted out, "What the hell! You promised! I never shoulda trusted you cops. Always lyin'!"

~~O~~

In a calm, unruffled tone Esposito told her, "Sherry, please trust me. Once this is all over, you're in the wind. No one will come after you. I'll see to it." To the others, he said, "Gates is a little…she's very…Oh, hell. She's a hard-ass. Used to be IAD so don't be offended by anything she says."

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Cross made a face. "And this Castle guy, he's a writer?"

Esposito snorted and shook his head. "Yeah. After four years, Gates is finally starting to warm up to him. Sorta." There was polite amusement as everyone got out, including Sherry, Esposito stopping her before she even reached the steps. "You wanna be anonymous, you gotta stay outside."

"So what am I supposed to do while you're in there causin' a big stink?"

He unlocked the SUV's doors, touching Sherry gently on the shoulder. "Wait here. We'll be back as soon as we can."

Reluctantly, she nodded. "Don't be gone too long, okay? I get kinda nervous around cops, ya know?"

In a conspiratorial stage whisper, Cross said, "Yeah, me too. Just remember, they can smell fear."

The exaggerated eeriness of his voice made Sherry laugh. She laughed again when Esposito slapped Cross on the shoulder. "Get away from her, perv."

Sheppard holding the door open, whistled to get their attention. "We need to do this today, people."

As he reached Sheppard, in a quiet voice the detective said, "I know you're used to giving orders, Shepp, but you're on my turf now."

The precinct wasn't new, but was well maintained and the staff polite while they were issued visitor's badges. A few minutes later, the elevator doors opened on the perturbed expressions of three people: a tall, slender woman with long brown hair, a ruggedly handsome man over six feet and Ryan, who was still in the hospital the last Sheppard heard. He nodded to the detective as they got off the elevator.

Esposito ignored the looks from his colleagues and made introductions. "Aaron Cross, Colonel John Sheppard and Harper Finley. Detective Kate Beckett and her partner, Richard Castle."

Naturally, Castle pounced on the one piece of info he'd been given that didn't seem to fit with everything else. "Colonel? Air Force?"

With a smile of greeting, Sheppard offered his hand, "Yes, Mr. Castle. And you're a writer. What do you write?"

Though Castle seemed to be just a touch annoyed that Sheppard didn't know who he was, it didn't linger. "Murder mysteries. I take it you've never read one of my books."

"Sorry, no. In my line of work, we don't get much time for things like reading for pleasure. I've been working on War and Peace for almost a decade."

"Ah, yes. Tolstoy. The sixteenth longest novel ever written at 587,287 words according to the new American Library or 561,093 if you go by Oxford World's Classics. The difference in the word count is due to the translation of the work from Russian to Engl-…"

Beckett turned and walked away calling out over her shoulder, "Zip it, Castle."

Castle stopped speaking in mid-sentence and rushed after her with everyone else trailing behind.

To Harper, Sheppard said, "Not married yet and she's already got him trained!"

Esposito glared at Sheppard and Harper then gave Ryan a concerned glance. "What the hell are you doing here? You were knocking on the pearly gates the last time I saw you."

"I checked out AMA." He started away and Esposito grabbed his arm, pinning him with a glare. Ryan pulled free. "What? You think I'm gonna let you go after that sorry SOB without me? I almost died, Javi. I'm going."

Shaking his head, Esposito literally put his foot down. "No. You're sittin' this one out, Kev. We're taking the lead." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Esposito knew it was wrong. His partner's Irish temper surged to the surface.

"I'm fine, Javi." Ryan pointed a finger in Esposito's face. "You're not doin' this without me. End of discussion."

Esposito put his hands up is surrender. "Then take it easy. Let us do the heavy lifting."

Still annoyed, Ryan chided his partner, "That's not how I roll and you know it."

"Could you please not argue, just this once?"

"Ryan! Esposito! Today please!" Gates called out and the men rushed to join the others in the bullpen. The introductions had been completed by the time they reached their desks, Gates giving them each a small sample of her "I'm not a happy camper" glare. They found their seats and waited.

While they'd been talking in the hall, the head of the SWAT unit, Lieutenant Cappicelli, arrived along with his team leaders, two men and a woman. All four had refused seats, preferring instead to lean against walls or perch on the corners of desks. Mixed in with the cops were agents from Homeland Security.

"Detective Esposito, am I understanding correctly that the sick days you took were so you could chase down a drug dealer who turned out to be a terrorist?"

All eyes turned to Esposito who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yes, sir. I was helping…"

Her eyes released him, pining Cross next. "…Special Agent Cross from the Seattle office of Homeland Security. I got that, and we'll discuss it at greater length later. What I don't get is how you're involved in all of this, Colonel Sheppard. Why would the Air Force send someone to take down a domestic terrorist in New York City?"

Giving her his most charming smile, Sheppard shrugged. "I'm on vacation and a friend needed help. And taking down a terrorist is less work than my day job…ma'am."

"Sir!" Chorused the officers and detectives of the Twelfth Precinct.

Doing a quick backpedal, Sheppard corrected himself, "Sir. You're welcome to contact my CO, General Jack O'Neill, with two Ls. He's at the Pentagon."

Nodding with satisfaction, Gates slipped her glasses on in order to read the clipboard in her hand. "Good. As long as the U.S. military isn't going to be taking over our operation, I'm willing to have your expertise."

Wisely, Sheppard only nodded then did his best to go unnoticed for the remainder of the briefing. Esposito caught his eye, giving him a brief "I told you so" grin then tuned back into what Gates was saying.

"Run this down for me one more time, Special Agent Cross. What lead you to believe that a former government agent by the name of," she looked to the board where Cross was still filling in the timeline, "Michael Blanchard AKA Peter Boyd would perpetrate an act of terrorism against the United Nations?"

Cross turned from the whiteboard, capped the marker and assumed an air of patience that he obviously didn't feel. "As I've already stated, Captain, the identity of our source is need-to-know. And your people don't need that particular piece of information in order to assist with this operation. The person's identity is irrelevant because he or she will be entering WitSec once Blanchard is taken into custody. Suffice it to say our source is unimpeachable and leave it at that.

"As for why the UN, we believe it's to create an international incident. What we don't know is why he would want to destroy the United States' relationships with the member countries.

"Just the fact that we know the UN to be the target would be enough to stop some from carrying out their plans, but Blanchard is no ordinary ex-spy. Until a few days ago, we thought he'd died more than two years ago.

"Blanchard is also responsible for the creation and distribution of Trance. The warehouse that exploded a couple of days ago was his primary lab. We managed to get out before it blew, but that also meant he knew we were onto him so we took ourselves out of the arena to let him think we'd bought it."

Gates digested everything Cross had said and didn't exactly find it palatable, but had the grace not to say so. "I see. Any ideas on when this is all going down? A more precise time than sometime today would be nice."

"Because we don't know if he's working alone or with others, no. But the sooner we bring him in the better."

The SWAT Lieutenant, not used to being left out, added his voice. "Agreed. The UN building is a prime target. It's also heavily guarded. No chance this guy's getting in."

Cross looked at the man as if he were a naïve child. "Blanchard has highly specialized skills. If anyone can get in without being spotted, it's him."

For the next thirty minutes, cops and agents worked out who and where everyone would deploy with Cross, Gates and Cappicelli doing most of the talking. With the plan in place, everyone scattered, Ryan, Sheppard, Finley, Cross and Esposito heading down to the supply office in the basement to pick up headsets, helmets, weapons and vests to replace the ones left on board the Daedalus.

The group gathered on the sidewalk by the SUV, Esposito heading for the driver's seat again. As one of two native New Yorkers, it was again his job to drive. "Ryan, you take Sheppard with you. That'll free up a seat so we're not crowded."

Cross stepped forward. "If Ryan doesn't mind, I'll ride with him. I'd kinda like to get to know your partner a little better, Javi."

"Yeah. Me too," added Finley.

Esposito wasn't sure what was really going on, but there wasn't time to fight it. "Ryan?"

"Sure. Let's get on the road. We gotta be on our post and ready to go in thirty." The detective led the way around the side of the building to the parking lot.

Sherry, true to her word, had stayed in the car. They tried to let her off a safe distance from their post, but she resisted all efforts to remove her. "I been thinkin'. If Michael, or whatever his name is, thinks I'm this Marta person then maybe I can help, you know?"

The detective traded glances with Sheppard who said, "She's right, but only as a last resort. We'll try all other avenues first."

"Oh, sure. Right. I mean, I don't wanna die any more than you guys do." She watched the men putting their Kevlar vests. "So do I get one o' those?"

Snorting as he got behind the wheel, Esposito put on his seatbelt, started the engine and pulled away from the curb. "No. You're staying out of the line of fire until you're needed."

Turning in his seat, Sheppard gave her a confident smile. "It'll all work out, Sherry."

"You don't know that. Everything I touch seems to fall apart. What makes you think this won't too?"

"Because I've been on enough missions that went sideways to know that eventually the odds should be in favor of Plan A working the way it should so there'd be no need for Plan B."

In the mirror, Esposito watched Sherry think about what Sheppard told her and looking skeptical. "But just in case, you do have a plan B, right?"

~~O~~

While Harper engaged Ryan in conversation about his wife and son, Aaron kept an eye on the detective watching for any signs that Trance was having any of the side effects Aaron had experienced when he first began taking the chems. Until his body had gotten used to the constant changes it was going through, Marta and another doctor had monitored him around the clock. Once he was able to compensate for the increases in his senses and reactions, they'd let him take longer and longer walks, grilling him about the people he spoke to, the things he saw and did.

Then, one day he'd been sent to another facility where he was taught to think and talk his way out of many different scenarios each one more difficult than the previous. And for the times it didn't work, they made sure he could fight or shoot his way out. He was also taught patience for the times that it was called for, such as when he was ordered to take out a target.

He'd also been schooled in languages. Italian, French, Spanish, Russian, Cantonese and Pashto to name a few. And with his increased intelligence, it had been easy. It had all been so easy after the enhancements. Before joining Outcome everything had been hard. Even tying his shoes, something most kids learned by the age of four or five. As Kenneth Kitsom, he hadn't learned that particular skill until the day he turned ten, and only because his younger brother, Tommy, had worked with him every day for a week until he could do it without help.

Feeling himself becoming maudlin, he pushed Kenneth back into the little room in his mind where he kept the memories from before Outcome and closed the door so he could concentrate on the upcoming operation.

Taking out a mini iPad, he recalled the information that he'd transferred from Sherry's computer. It was basically step by step instructions for catching Blanchard. Before stealing the woman's car, Blanchard had begun a complete hard drive wipe that would've removed all signs that he'd ever used it. But he'd missed entering the final command that would start the process. There had to be something seriously wrong with the man for him to make such a critical mistake.

Aaron's conscience gave him a poke, reminding him that he hadn't let the others in on what he'd found. Yet somehow, Harper had known and invited herself along. Though he doubted that they would need their combined forces to bring Blanchard down, it was good to have someone along who understood what it was like to be them. Having Harper there made it harder to go off on his own to find Blanchard, but if what he suspected was true, even Ryan by himself could take him down.

"Yo, Cross. We're here. Where're you?"

Ryan and Harper were watching him with equal expressions of concern, and he rushed to reassure them, "Meditating to clear my mind."

"Castle does that too. Only he calls it brainstorming. My book calls it daydreaming."

They got out, Ryan pocketing the keys after hitting the trunk release. Each of them took an M4 assault rifle out, gave it a quick check and grabbed enough ammo to take down a small army.

With Ryan leading the way, Aaron discreetly passed Harper a second headset that was tuned to a separate frequency from the one being used for the operation so they could communicate privately. Getting to know his friend's partner was a ruse to separate Harper and himself from the others so they could take down Outcome 3 themselves to keep anyone else from being hurt or killed.

Briefly, Aaron had considered knocking Ryan out and leaving him tied up in some out of the way place where he'd be safe, but he immediately discounted that idea. He wanted the detective to be returned to his family in the same condition he'd been in when he left home. They'd just have to make a strategic withdrawal while Ryan's attention was elsewhere.

Aaron held up the iPad so Harper could see it, pointing to the place on the map where he'd determined that Outcome 3 would most likely make his stand against the UN. The building they were entering had relatively lax security, at least by the standards set down by Homeland Security. Just a few rent-a-cops and metal detectors. Easy enough to circumvent. Harper nodded agreement, and with a few hand signals, they made their own plans.

It didn't take long for the trip to reach their assigned position at a building three blocks from the front of the UN. Their first step was to ascertain if anyone recognized Blanchard. Aaron drew the detective to a stop. "Wanna take point on this, Ryan?"

"Sure." The dark haired man seemed surprised that he was being given a choice. Then his expression changed to curiosity tempered with reluctant acceptance of the inevitable. "I'm not getting the whole story, am I?"

"It's for the best, Kevin," Harper told him with a gentle smile. "The less you know about our true past the better."

Ryan rolled his shoulders to loosen the muscles. "Suit yourself. Espo'll give me the low-down later."

The former Outcome agents shared a look, and Harper shook her head. "You know he can't. Nearly everything that's happened so far is classified. You signed the non-disclosure agreement meaning you can't even tell your family."

"Yeah, I know. Still, it'd be cool to know everything my partner knows thought I'm not as ure if I want to know everything you know." He opened the glass door and nodded. The three of them had already drawn the attention of the people in the lobby, especially the three security guards. He flashed his ID. "Detective Ryan, NYPD. My colleagues, Agents Cross and Finley." Taking out his phone, he held up a photo of Outcome 3 taken from the video of the warehouse fire. "Seen this guy? Six feet, one-eighty-five, dark hair and eyes, thirties, Hispanic."

The man and woman leaning on the security desk looked to the man sitting in front of a bank of monitors. He stood, thumbs tucked into his belt, an arrogant smirk on his face. "We get lots o' people in here."

Aaron held himself still, exuding boredom though he wanted to slam the guy's face into the fake wood desk. But this was Ryan's town. He knew what worked and what didn't.

Uncharacteristically, Ryan let his emotions loose, his voice dropping a half octave, "You can ID the guy now or we can take you and your mall cop pals down to the station. We'd have to call for back-up, put you cuffs and load all of you into the back of a cruiser. Then, there're the strip searches, mug shots, reading your rights, paperwork. It's just too much hassle." To Aaron and Harper, Ryan said, "Let's just knock 'em out and lock 'em in the broom closet."

They waited, and sure enough, the taller man gave in. He reached for the phone, giving the photo intense scrutiny. "Nope. Haven't seen him." Ryan reclaimed the phone, holding it so the others could see.

"Yeah. I seen him," the woman told them. "He came in about two hours ago. Went down in the basement. Said he worked the night shift." The look on her face showed that she knew a huge mistake had been made.

Speaking up for the first time, Cross said, "Show us."

She looked to her supervisor who nodded. The trio followed her past the employee entrance to a locked and alarmed metal door. Scanning her card, she held the door for them.

"Don't let anyone else in or out until we give the all clear. If you see him, do not approach. He's considered armed and extremely dangerous," Harper, bringing up the rear, advised the woman who moaned.

"I must be a loser magnet. We had a coffee date. Shoulda stayed with my ex. At least he isn't a terrorist."

~~O~~

Once they reached the basement, Ryan looked at Cross. "What next?"

"If it were me, I'd find a way to introduce Trance into the water supply or aerosolize it and pump it through the environmental systems."

Ryan nodded as if he understood. "So we look for a way into the sewer system where it runs over to the UN building and stop him before he has a chance to do the deed."

"That's the plan." Taking a deep breath, Cross issued orders, keeping his voice low so it wouldn't echo in the vast underground complex. "Ryan, you go right. Finley, take the middle and I'll go left. Two clicks if you find something. Give a holler if you find something. Meet back here in…" he glanced at his watch, "…fifteen minutes if you come up empty."

Finley nodded, raised her weapon and slipped away, disappearing behind a piece of equipment whose function was unknown to the cop. Cross looked like he was again going to suggest that Ryan stay behind, but thought better of it. Blanchard was responsible for his stay in the hospital and he'd be dammed if the guy would get away with trying to kill him. He would've liked to see the guy rot in hell, but he'd settle for seeing to it that he rotted in prison instead.

Carefully searching every nook and cranny, Ryan slowly made his way through the maze of equipment, pipes, cables, dirt and dust, finding nothing interesting until he found a footprint he knew wasn't his. A work boot, to go by the shape and tread, approximately size twelve. It couldn't be Cross. His boots were a little smaller and a different tread pattern. Finley's feet were a lot smaller, women's size eight. The tracks led to a door. Looking closely, he saw that the alarm and lock had been disabled. Better check it out first. And if I get a chance to shoot the SOB…

With his left hand, Ryan slowly pushed the door open, cringing when it squeaked the first few inches. Taking the flashlight attachment from his back pocket, he snapped it into place ob his weapon and flicked it on before taking the few steps down to the raised walkway that ran along both sides of the sewer.

Turning west toward the UN, Ryan crept through the dimly lit access tunnel. At the junction, he tucked the stock of the M4 under his right arm, using his left to tap the headset twice. No response. He tapped again, this time adding, "Cross, Finley. I got something. What's your twenty?" Silence greeted his request. Swearing under his breath, he tapped again. "Base this is Victor-two-seven."

"Go ahead, Ryan."

"I got separated from my team and they're not answering."

Before the comm officer could respond, Ryan heard the scrape-click of a round being chambered just before cold metal touched the back of his neck.

TBC