Usual disclaimers.
"Mm hmm. Yes. Of course. I would be delighted to help," a man said, his high voice resounding over the telephone. "On Thursday, then. Good day."
Winston O'Brien hung up the phone and swiveled in the plush red velvet chair, taking in the sight of his teak and ebony-paneled office. The chair was designed to comfortably support his large frame, and the desk was oversized to make him look smaller than his true size of nearly three hundred and twenty-eight pounds. He reached out and pressed a button on the phone cradle, taking in the spectacular view of the New York skyline at night.
"Robert," he said simply after the line had picked up. "Can you come up, please?" After a quick reply, O'Brien hung up. He turned his attentions to the view of the lighted bridges and the neon colors of the skyscrapers, twinkling like low-placed stars along the line of sight. It was a view that the man never tired of seeing.
A knock sounded on the door. "Come in," O'Brien called.
"You called for me, sir?" a plain but strong voice asked, stepping into the giant office.
"Yes. That supplier that you were to meet—what became of that?"
Robert stared down at his feet. "The man is an unmitigated idiot," he answered, not daring to look at his employer's eyes. Winston O'Brian was legendary for not suffering fools, and he desperately hoped that the man would not view him as part of that category.
"How so, Robert?" O'Brian asked, his already high voice rising about half an octave. In truth, O'Brian sounded almost feminine, save for one deep note he permanently carried in his throat. It was told that a political rival once lampooned him for it, and a month later he was found floating in a river in upstate Connecticut.
"The preliminary buy was arranged, and to your specifications," Robert explained. "However, it was…interrupted."
"Police?"
"No. Drug dealers. Apparently our 'host' did not do his homework. I would have preferred a small warehouse in Chinatown, but an alley it was."
"I see. This is that fiasco from two days ago." O'Brian's eyes narrowed, making him look like an evil version of the Pillsbury Dough Boy. "You did say I was most anxious to meet the woman you say was there?"
"I did, sir. I also stipulated that the next meet would be in a place of your choosing."
"Mmm," O'Brien said. "Very well. I have received my invitation to the gathering we need—the plans must be in place by Thursday night at seven-thirty. That gives us four days to get this plan in motion."
"It can be done."
"See that it is. I have faith in you, Robert—you have served me well in times past. However, please see that our supplier makes his final sale with us."
"Loose ends?"
O'Brian nodded. "And, of course, I want the girl. There are rumors that certain members of the FBI have gotten wind of our plans, and I wish to prevent them from doing more damage."
"She will be found."
Robert heaved a sigh of relief as his employer gave a thin smile. "Excellent. We must make the best of bad situations, no?"
"Indeed," Robert replied.
------
"I'm tellin' you, Linds, if I never see another bullet it'll be too soon," Danny complained as he sank down into a chair next to his best girl. Lindsay looked up from the fingerprints she had been running and smiled a wan smile.
"Guns aren't looking as great as a weapon, huh?"
"Oh, they're great—there's just so damn many of 'em," Danny explained. "I swear everyone had one. .45's, .32's, .22's---I think there was even a .44 in there. Recorded all the striations, ran it through the databases, and so far nothin'."
"So far?"
"Hey, it's a lot of guns. And it's a huge database."
Lindsay smiled. "What do you make of our investigative friends?" she asked.
"What, Oliver and his buddy?" the bespectacled man asked. Lindsay nodded. "They're all right, I guess. Not too happy with that one guy takin' me out like I was a rag doll or somethin'…"
A laugh rang out of Lindsay's throat. "Which one? Josh?"
"The big guy? Nah. That other one, the one who can't hear."
"Oh. Kyle. Seems like Adam's getting along great with him. I don't know how they're talking, but…"
"Yeah." Danny's gaze traveled from one end of the lab towards Mac's office, where he saw Josh Hollenbeck standing at the door. "Now why don't he just go in?" Danny wondered. "I know he knocked—saw him do it three times."
"Mac was on the phone, remember?" Lindsay reminded him. "Maybe where he's from there's different rules about doing that."
"Yeah," Danny murmured again. "Speakin' of, where is he from?"
"I don't know. He speaks French, that much I sussed out, but his accent has something more to it. Couldn't say."
"He talk to you?"
"All the while you were in Queens," the woman replied. "He's a nice guy."
Looking at the worried expression on the large man's face, Danny added, "Unless maybe you piss him off?"
"Danny!"
"I'm just sayin'. Between that Parker and him, it's a wonder Oliver gets anything done."
"First name basis, huh?" Lindsay teased.
"He's all right, I said." Danny rolled over to see if anything had come back on the bullets. It hadn't. "Okay, kiddo," he said, leaning in towards Lindsay's midsection and pulling out a well-worn paperback. "Now, where were we?"
----
Josh hesitantly stepped inside the glass-walled office after receiving a beckoning wave from its owner. Though Josh never feared much when it came to his surroundings or his job, there had always been an unspoken protocol for him when it came to walking in on a phone conversation. He knew himself that he often personally took 'sensitive' calls, and wished no one to overhear them.
"Sorry about that," Mac said, slamming the phone down into the cradle. A dark look hung over the detective's face, and he glowered at a corner of the room as though it were an unseen opponent.
"There ees trouble? Pairhaps weeth Mlle. Davis?" Josh asked, his breath holding.
"No, no, nothing like that, at least that I know of," Mac replied. "We're still running evidence, and until we get results back on it there's not much we can do, except hope that she's holding on."
Josh nodded in understanding. "The waiting, eet ees the most deeficult."
Mac tipped his head and gave a wan smile. "Especially when it's one of your own people."
"Ce'st vrai." The large man made use of the sofa in the office, leaning back a little as he took his massive weight off his feet. "I 'ate to pry, Detecteeve," the agent said, "but, eef eet was not about Mlle. Davis, then…"
"Budget cuts," Mac explained.
"Ah," Josh said. "Thees I undairstand."
"And the Chief of Detectives here doesn't like me all that much," Mac continued. "I made him look bad after he tried to attack my career a while back, and recently he got caught up in a sensitive case—along with half of New York's rich and powerful."
Josh held a hand up. "Say no more," the man concurred. "I too know what eet ees like to be targeted."
Mac looked at the portly man, privately doubting that the threat ever lasted very long. "'e ees threateneeg to, eh, 'close you down'?"
"No. Because the city's broke, he's told seven of my techs, including Adam out there, that they're going to be out on the street. We pulled a few strings, made some sacrifices to keep at least Adam, but…"
"'e plans to let 'im go?"
"And soon. Like by tomorrow."
Josh looked at Mac a moment. "No."
Mac chuckled a little. "No?"
"No. Thees man, thees Adam, 'e cannot go."
"I'm afraid I don't have a choice. To be honest, I don't like it either."
Josh looked up at the man, whom he'd come to respect in the short time he'd made his acquaintance. "There ees a way around thees. I shall return." The portly man rose to his feet, steadying himself a little. "Whaere can I find thees office?"
Mac told him. "But I'm sure he's on the way down now, seeing as I told him I wasn't telling Adam he was being let go."
"Then I weel wait. Aftair all, eet ees all we can do now, ees eet not?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
------
Adam continued running DNA profiles as Kyle looked on. Each sample took hours to process, and the pair got more and more discouraged as the results came back as either someone that was already dead or came up as 'not in the system.'
Whoever took your friend, they're good, Adam finally said, writing on Kyle's notebook. No records.
Doesn't mean no trail. Kyle pulled up his personal laptop and began running a series of programs on it.
What are you doing? Adam asked.
Running financials on this guy Duchens. If he's got an account in the Seychelles, I'll find it.
Adam raised his eyebrows. You're that good?
I'm the second best in the country. The best is a personal friend of mine, and she works for the FBI.
Wow. Adam's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. The printer beeped again, and the tech read the result. "No match," he puffed under his breath. "Again." The sudden roadblock in progress was not sitting well with him, and he readied yet another sample to be processed.
"Ross!" a strong voice said, startling Adam out of his shoes. The tech turned around to see the face of the Chief of Detectives staring right at him, his eyes wide and his jaw set in a stern look.
"Y-yes, sir?"
"I hate to have to do this, but you're out. As of now."
"I-I'm what?"
"Budget cuts. Now, I know the lab's made sacrifices, but they're just not enough. You're out. I'm sorry."
Like hell you are, Adam thought. A tap on the shoulder startled him again, and the look on Kyle's face told him exactly what the other man was asking. "I have to leave," he said slowly. "They're letting me go."
"Why?" Kyle's fuzzy voice caught the attention of Sinclair, who now looked at the sandy-haired man with interest.
"And who are you?" he challenged.
"Um, sir, this is…"
"You don't belong here," Sinclair snapped. "I don't remember you being here before. What the hell are you doing in this lab?"
Kyle managed to keep up. –Slow down, idiot,-- he signed furiously. –I'm deaf. Can't keep up.—
"The hell?" Sinclair said, his voice now nearly booming across the room. "What the hell is your boss up to, Ross?!"
"Sir, they're helping with a case…" Adam tried to explain, but he was drowned out by Sinclair's shouting. Suddenly the whole lab began to circle around, and Adam noticed Hawkes, Danny and Lindsay nearby. "They can tell you…" he said meekly, pointing towards his friends.
"Get him the hell out of here! I'm actually surprised—Mac Taylor, the stanchion for protocol, and he just lets people in off the street!"
Kyle caught that last statement and grew hot. –Listen, asshole,-- he signed, --if we weren't looking for my boss we wouldn't be here!— He firmly planted his feet on the ground, a clear indication that he wasn't planning to go anywhere.
"Christ," Sinclair said, watching Kyle's hands move and not making sense of it at all. "Anyone here speak sign language?"
One of the lab techs brought forward a uniformed officer from downstairs, who had been fetched earlier. "Tell him he's leaving or I'm having him arrested," Sinclair said sternly. "And Ross, you're leaving too."
The interpreter signed, and Kyle's face grew red. –No. I'm not going anywhere. Not until I find my boss, who's out there somewhere!-- He pulled out his credentials, shoving them in Sinclair's face. –We're working for the FBI at the moment, and the guy I'm answering to will be here in a second, I have no doubt.—
"No one told me about an FBI investigation…" Sinclair said, glaring at Kyle as he heard the translation.
--I can see why. Who would tell an idiot who would fire the man who found evidence in a kidnapping case anything?-- Kyle made a sign that the interpreter smirked at but didn't translate.
"The hell did he say?" Sinclair asked.
"He, ah, called you an asshole, sir," the officer said.
Sinclair stepped closer, making sure Kyle could see his face. "No one insults me," he snarled.
--I just did. As for Adam, if you're going to fire him then I'm hiring him, on behalf of my boss. And he stays—FBI jurisdiction trumps yours, especially when Josh gets involved. Try and have us thrown out, and you'll have more than a political career to worry about, I guarantee you.—
"You're threatening me?" Sinclair chortled. "Will you look at that?"
--I can make your life hell, idiot. Give me a reason.—
"Hey!" Mac called, now noticing the population of his lab circled around the DNA station. "What's going…" As he saw Sinclair, he said, "Oh."
"Taylor. Why wasn't I told of an FBI investigation?"
"Because eet was not necessary to our concairns," Josh bellowed, making everyone jump a little. "You air trying to be rid of M. Ross 'ere?"
"Budget cuts. He's low man on the pole. You understand."
"No. I do not. 'ere ees a man 'oo, along with several others, ees looking for an agent of mine 'oo has gone missing. 'er work ees vital to the welfare of thees ceety, and eet ees of utmost importaince that she be found. I 'ave 'eard M. Parker's statements, and I weel back them. Eef you air going to 'be rid of 'im,' then M. Ross weel be working for me."
"I should throw you out," Sinclair said, trying to keep his dignity.
"FBI takes precedence," Mac said simply. "And you know that. Now, I can get the mayor and the deputy police inspector on the phone—I'm sure they'll be interested to know how you're treating out friends in the government…"
Heaving a pissed off sigh, Sinclair said, "Fine. You win. For now."
"Ce'st bon," Josh said as the man left. "Eediot!" He jumped a little in surprise as several of the CSI's and lab techs gave smothered chuckles. Suddenly the group dispersed, scurrying back to their evidence and their printouts.
"Thanks," Mac said, looking at Josh. "I've wanted to do that for years."
"Pas de probleme. We 'ave a common goal—find Mlle. Davis and stop thees ceety from being attacked. I am 'appy to 'elp."
In the DNA room, Adam was beaming. "That was awesome!" he cried, forgetting that his new friend couldn't hear him. The interpreter had stuck around, though, and soon Kyle was also smiling.
--I meant it, Adam,-- Kyle said. –If he's too stupid to see you're an asset, you can work for us until your boss there gets you the position back.—He pointed at Mac, who was talking with Josh in the hall. Just then Kyle's Blackberry began to vibrate, and he pulled up the screen to take the message.
The girl's up. Tell Josh and Mac.
The deaf man walked out into the hall, holding up his Blackberry and pointing. "I'll go too," he said.
Mac looked at Josh. "I'll grab Hawkes," he said. "Meet you at the elevator in five."