A/N. Thanks once again to my faithful reviewers - just one more chapter for our team to finish rounding up the bad guys with a little teaser to see what Mac has been up to before tomorrow's finale!
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Chapter 10 – The Take Down
The take-down had gone almost perfectly. Don and Frank had waited in the alley as the two cell members returned with food for the rest of the team. Crouched by two well positioned dumpsters, it hadn't been difficult to surprise, subdue and cuff them.
"Two down, six to go." Frank whispered to Don who gave the signal for SWAT to storm the building. One team took out the front door with a heavy battering ram while Don and Frank followed team two in through the back door from the alley. A third team let themselves in through the skylight and surprised the two team members sleeping on make-shift beds on the upper floor. Don and Frank found themselves in a small kitchen cum dining room that was where the two suspects they had already apprehended were obviously headed. A young boy of no more than sixteen stared at them in horror before sticking his hands in the air still gripping the ladle with which he had been stirring the stew.
"Where are the others?" demanded Don. The young boy was clearly terrified but his eyes flicked inadvertently towards the double doors are the far end of the room. As he did so a huge explosion split the air and everyone dived for cover. The doors blew open and a man staggered in his clothes on fire. Spotting an old fire blanket in a canister on the wall above the stove, Don grabbed the handle, pulled it out and pushing the man to the floor to douse the flames. The man groaned as Don patted the blanket.
Don's team leader was already on the radio with his commanding officer. "Fall back, there are other non-detonated explosives." While he grabbed the young boy, Don and Frank pulled the man away from the doors and out into the alley. No sooner had the reached the alley than the sound of a motor-bike engine reached their ears. Turning they saw a stocky dark-haired figure astride a Kawasaki take off, the bike fish-tailing as he applied a little too much acceleration. Both Don and Frank yelled for him to stop and loosed off a couple of warning shots. However the fleeing man didn't stop until he realized his path was blocked by a delivery truck caught at the traffic lights at the far end of the alley. He applied the brakes too quickly and Don and Frank watched him slide forward and crumple as he hit the side of the truck with a resounding bang.
Don looked at Frank. "Well at least we don't have to chase him!" Frank grinned as he and Don headed towards the downed man. "I don't know about you but I always end up having to do all the running."
Frank nodded. "I know what you mean. Tiresome isn't it?" They strolled up to the man writhing in agony on the floor clutching his groin where it had connected with the handle-bars as the bike concertinaed against the metal chassis of the truck.
Don winced. "That's gotta hurt." He stared down at the man immediately recognizing him. "You're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney and to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided to you at no cost. Do you understand these rights that I have read to you?"
"Quoi? Je ne comprends rien!" snarled the man known as the Corsican and currently going by the name of Marcello Antonetti. He glared up at Don and Frank and they could clearly see that he had understood every word.
Frank rolled his eyes. "Vous êtes en état d'arrestation. Vous avez le droit de garder le silence. Dans le cas contraire, tout ce que vous direz pourra et sera utilisé contre vous devant un tribunal. Vous avez le droit de consulter un avocat et d'avoir un avocat présent lors de l'interrogatoire. Si vous n'en avez pas les moyens, un avocat vous sera désigné d'office, et il ne vous en coûtera rien. Avez-vous compris les droits que je viens de vous lire?" Antonetti replied with a string of foul language. "Guess he understood that!"
Don stared at Frank thoroughly disgusted. "You just happen to speak French?"
Frank shrugged nonchalantly. "Nah, just memorized Miranda in half a dozen languages!"
"Oh now that is just … showing off!"
Frank grinned. "Yeah I know, pisses Stella off too!
"CSI:NY – CSI:NY – CSI:NY"
"All in all, an excellent result! Congratulations people. " Sinclair preened as he smiled at all present. "Stella, it was good to see you again. Detective Mitford, the NYPD appreciates your assistance. Now if you'll excuse me I have a press conference. Yes excellent job. Well done!" There was a collective sigh as he left.
"Well I don't know about excellent. My guy hasn't said a single word since he was arrested." Danny huffed and then winced as Lindsay dug her elbow into him. "Our guy," he corrected.
"Well, we're not having much success with our Corsican friend either despite his linguistic skills." Don pointed a finger at Frank who chuckled to himself. Stella and Jo couldn't help but smile at the two of them. If they hadn't looked completely different anyone would have taken them for twins with their same dry humour, sarcasm and mannerisms.
"Well, let's look on the bright side." Jo tried to cheer them up. "We have stopped the terrorists, neutralized the explosives, caught two murderers and we got away without any major casualties despite the explosion at the bakery."
Don nodded in agreement shuddering at the memory of the blast that, at the time, he had assumed had taken out half of the SWAT team. "Yeah Elias and his team were lucky that half of the explosives had already been packed into the van when that fanatic decided to take himself out. It could have been a lot worse."
"So what now?" As usual it was down to Sheldon to ask the all important question.
Jo waved a hand. "We cross the t's and dot the i's. Once our Corsican friend has been processed here for his involvement in the plot to blow up the peace conference he will be handed over to the New Orleans PD to stand trial for the murder of Roger Clemens though it wouldn't surprise me if France requested he be returned there to face charges for the murder of the longshoreman in Marseille, and that's if the Iraqi's don't get him first for the murder of their officials." Jo's bracelets jingled as she waved her hands in the air. "At least that diplomatic nightmare isn't ours!" She exchanged a broad smile with Stella who was clearly of the same opinion. "We have enough evidence to put Angelo Barcotti away for life. Interpol have international arrest warrants out for Ambrose Atlas and Elsa Rossi. They are also liaising with Scotland Yard and the Spanish Police Corps in the arrests of James Grant and Rodrigo Cortès. Vassily Ychenko may be a little harder to find out there in the Balkans but it's only a matter of time."
"Do we know where Atlas and Rossi are?" asked Lindsay.
Stella nodded. "Yes Adam traced them as far as the airport. Atlas had a private jet fuelled and waiting. They filed a flight plan to Spain. From there they flew on to United Arab Emirates." She sighed. "Though we have excellent diplomatic ties with that country we have no extradition treaty and Elsa Rossi is actually a British national. So it's going to be complicated."
"What I don't get is why?" Adam looked up. "Why would Ambrose Atlas and his secret society be involved in an act of terrorism?"
"Money." Stella looked sick as she glanced at Jo who nodded in agreement. "Since the announcement of the withdrawal of troops from Iraq and Afghanistan the Department of Defence is making major cut backs. A large number of contracts have been cancelled and new ones aren't forthcoming."
Jo picked up where Stella left off. "All of the members of the Forum are in some way related to defence. Withdrawals of troops means no need for weapons, uniforms, spare parts, military supplies."
"Crazy!" muttered Sheldon almost to himself. "Funding another act of terrorism in the hope of plunging us back into another war, and all to feather their own nests. These guys deserve to be locked up."
Everyone was silent for a moment, each of them feeling sick that the two main culprits had escaped their clutches and each of them wondering what would have happened if a certain Mac Taylor hadn't stumbled across the plot when he did. The silence was broken by the buzzing of a phone. As they all checked their phones it became clear that the phone in question was in Adam's pocket.
"Er … sorry!" he muttered as he glanced at the screen. "Oh hey it's a message from the boss!" There was a collective sigh of relief as Adam tapped the screen. "Oh cool! He's got a video link." Adam turned to the computer and began to work his magic. Everyone leaned forward in anticipation desperate to see for themselves that Mac was okay having imagine all sorts of terrible scenarios after his last call.
"I do hope he's all right," whispered Lindsay to Danny, her face a mask of worry.
Adam tapped at the keyboard. "Okay hold on. We should be connecting now ..." As the image appeared on the main screen of the conference room, nine jaws dropped in unison. "Whoa … er … Boss! Where exactly are you?"
Mac smiled back at them from the screen. "Staying with a friend."
Lindsay's eyes widened in shock as Danny spluttered. "What the hell?"
Sid blinked several times. "What's that in your hand?"
Mac's face took on a cheeky grin."A Virgin Whore!"
"Sonofabitch!" muttered Flack making Sheldon and Frank jump.
"It's not bad actually." Mac took a sip of the drink. "I don't normally care for vodka and tequila but it's quite refreshing. Nice lime flavour."
Stella and Jo glanced at one another and back at the screen, not quite sure if what they were seeing was some kind of computerized desert mirage. Never in their lives had they conceived of Mac Taylor dressed in white trousers, an unbuttoned white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his bare feet propped up on a bright green sun lounger by an azure blue pool surrounded by palm trees and exotic plants. Behind him a number of men could be seen having a less than friendly game of water polo while a pale young man covered in a large white sheet with an IV attached to his arm, was quietly watching them from a well-shaded lounger at the far side of the pool.
"I've just spoken with Sinclair. It seems that you guys have done a fantastic job. I knew I could count on you." Mac smiled at them. "And I got in touch with General Schaeffer to let him know that I'll be bringing Davy here home soon." Mac gestured to the young man behind him.
Just as Jo was about to speak a large red face with a dripping wet, bushy, grey beard appeared in front of the screen. A well chewed cigar was clamped between his teeth. "How do folks? Don't you worry none now. I'll take good care of your boy here and ship him back Stateside in time for start of business on Monday … well maybe Tuesday or Wednesday." The screen wobbled as the bearded individual picked up the laptop computer. Just before it was switched off he was heard to say. "Come on Mac enough of the chit-chat, we're losing two to one. We've gotta show these new boys how it's done. Then afterwards what do you lads say to a little Sex on the Beach?"
Nine pairs of eyes blinked as the screen went black and a pale blue 'end of transmission' warning blinked in the centre of the screen.
"I think I just experienced a rather strange hallucination," muttered Sid to Sheldon.
"Must have been a collective one if it was!" Adam nodded enthusiastically at Sheldon's response.
Frank Mitford's face took on a puzzled expression as he turned to Stella. "So that's your famous Mac Taylor, serious, by the book, somewhat stern, a little straight-laced, workaholic?"
Stella's face showed a myriad of emotions as Frank quoted her various descriptions back at her. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. She gave a 'search me' gesture and shut it again and turned to Jo. "What on earth have you done to him since I've been gone?"
Jo's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Me? … Nothing … I mean … that was … I'm not sure what that was!" Jo broke off as she had no words to describe what she had just witnessed.
Frank Mitford looked around the stunned faces. "Well Stell, I don't care what you say but he looks like a bit of a rogue to me!"