Mike heard the door creek and closed his eyes tightly as light flooded the tiny space. He sensed rather than saw the presence of others in his small prison. When his eyes adjusted, he was in the company of the mysterious chestnut haired woman.

"Bonsoir, Lieutenant."

"Miss Staas," Mike replied.

The green eyed woman laughed, "Mrs. Rather than Miss, is technically accurate, but that is a moot point. I think the term Dr. is perhaps more correct."

The voice was deep, with a slight French accent. Mike's placed her accent as native San Franciscan, educated in France; well educated. The Montesquieu quote came to mind.

"Then Dr. Staas, what's this is all about?"

"Mike. May I call you Mike?"

He nodded.

"So impatient, I would have assigned that trait to your impetuous partner, not to a man of your years and experience. We certainly have time for pleasantries."

"Lady, there is nothing pleasant about this situation."

"For you perhaps. I am finding the whole situation tres amusant. But maybe I have been an inconsiderate host." She motioned to the door and a man entered. He was about 40, short, brawny and dark. To Mike's eyes, he was hired muscle. He pointed a .22 at Mike.

"Tony, please release one of the Lieutenant's hands and get him something to drink."

Tony handed the gun over to Lois, who kept it pointed in Mike's direction. He released one of the cuffs and held out a glass of water. Mike flexed his hand before taking the cup and then sniffed the contents cautiously.

"Oh, so suspicious Mike. Don't worry, I don't have any issues with you. I want this to be as painless as possible for you. As long as your partner atones for his sins, you'll be free."

"If you think I believe that, you're just as nuts as I think you are. You can't let me go and expect to get away with this."

"That's where you're wrong Mike, I don't expect to get away with this. I've nothing left to live for."

Mike considered her answer as he drained the cup, now very afraid for Steve and himself. She was the most dangerous type of criminal, someone with nothing left to lose. Tony retrieved the cup and reattached the handcuff.

"Ok, if you won't answer the first question, what's in the bowl?" Mike looked at the metal bowl with the wire, which he now saw led to a contact switch on the door and the jamb.

"Ah, very observant, that would be ether."

"The anesthetic?"

"Yes, ether. I work as a doctor after all. It's very easy to come by. It's a very funny little substance. Medically, it is highly useful, as you have experienced, but it has some, shall we say, problematic properties. There is a reason they are phasing ether out as the anesthetic of choice at most hospitals. Do you know what happens when you expose ether to metal and air?"

Mike remained silent. He was starting to feel a little woozy.

"It forms a new compound, Diethyl Ether Peroxide. Add a little spark, and well, shall we say the results are explosive. Terry, such a good friend to a member of my family, was quite gifted with wiring, as you recall from the warehouse." She waved her hand at the door. "He helped me out with this little project before he went to his eternal reward." Seeing Mike's expression, she continued, "Don't worry Mike, he didn't suffer. He was blissfully unaware when his end came."

Mike stared blankly at the women. He was now having a hard time comprehending what she was saying.

"What's the matter Mike, are you tired of our little chat already? Or maybe it was something you drank?"

Mike barely heard her last comment before he dropped into a drug induced slumber.

"Just as I said, painless as possible. Rest well, Lieutenant." Lois crooned as she extinguished the light and rearmed the door.

00000

It was half-past eight by the time Steve got back to Bryant Street. Usually quite on a Sunday night, the bull pen was a bustle of activity. Steve looked over at Mike's office and was surprised to see Captain Olsen sitting at the desk manning the phone.

Mike had been gone now for over four hours. Steve had wasted most of that time at the hospital and it had done nothing for his temperament. The lidocaine he had received had mostly warm off, along with the remnants of his patience. He was tired, sore and angry.

The statements from Harrison and McCartney had told him nothing, except that the mystery woman was not alone. One minute they were standing at the door, the next they were handcuffed and gagged in the alley. Norm was right, a couple of supercops.

The records department had been only slightly more illuminating. It's seems his mystery sister, Lois Staas did more than just arrange his funeral. Her signature was prominently displayed on the bottom of the death certificate. Checking the personnel records at the hospital would have to wait till Monday morning, about 12 hours or so from now, unless Olsen could bring some pressure to bear on the hospital. 12 hours, Steve hoped Mike had that long.

He'd gone down to the morgue after he saw the name in the file and the attendant ID'd Staas from Steve's description, and thought she had been working there for over a year. The question remained: why? Who the hell was Lois Staas, and what did she have against him?

Steve was anxious to hear what Norm and Bill and from the looks of it, everyone else in the office, had dug up so far. He downed a few aspirin plus one dose of antibiotics and chased it with a cup of coffee, he would worry about his stomach lining later. Right now, after two sleepless nights and a trip to the ER, he just needed to stay on his feet, try to keep his emotions in check and find Mike.

He was walking over to get an update from Norm when Rudy Olsen waved him into Mike's office, where he dropped heavily into his customary chair.

"You looking for a change of career, Keller?"

Steve looked down at the scrubs he was wearing and intended to reply with a snarky comeback, but he didn't have the energy. "Um, no sir, just haven't been able to get into my apartment; landlord padlocked it and went out of town."

"Well I think I can help you with that. He handed Steve a pink message slip. "Your landlord called, I assured him that you are very much alive. Give him a call. He said he'd have the padlock off as soon as he gets into town, probably by ten tonight."

Yesterday, this news would have made Steve deliriously happy. Tonight, he didn't even respond.

Rudy looked him over carefully. "You sure you're up for this, no offense but you look like the walking dead."

"I'm fine," Steve lied and the Captain knew it. "I don't even know this woman, yet she arranges my funeral and then gets a job at the hospital, waiting for me to show up? How did she know there would be a body to swap out when I came in to get stitches? Unless, she orchestrated my trip to ER and my body double's death as well." Steve put his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly finding the intricacies of her plot dizzying.

"If that's the case, someone needs to go down and talk to the woman you met in the alley from Thursday night." Olsen said. "I'll see if I can pull some strings and get someone to crack open the personnel files at the hospital. We need more information on Dr. Staas." Steve agreed.

Rudy took another good look at Steve and saw the stress written in his body language. "I know Mike's important to you, but If you can't keep it together…"

Steve looked Rudy in the eye and walked out of the office, pausing at the coffee pot. He decided against another cup. He walked over to Norm's Desk.

"How you holding up, Steve?"

Steve didn't answer, "Please tell me you've got something."

Norm shook his head. The news was not good. Sunday night was not conducive to information gathering. Calls were made, but now it was a waiting game. Bill walked over and ticked off the things they couldn't do until start of business on Monday. Steve was getting more and more frustrated as the list of what they didn't know grew.

"NOTHING! We got NOTHING!" Steve raged. Everyone within ear shot stopped and looked his way. "What the hell are you looking at?" He challenged, heading for the door.

"I'm going down to lockup. Maybe I can get something from that chick from Thursday night."

00000

Steve stormed out the bull pen door. He knew his control was gone, but he had to do something. Norm trailed after him and called his name. Steve kept walking. Norm sped up and grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around.

"Steve, stop."

"What?"

Norm gave Steve a glare that rivaled Mike at his best. "You need to cool it. If Mike saw you like this, he'd have you on the bench and you know it." Norm lowered his voice, "Dammit, Steve this isn't helping. I'm going down to lockup with you, no arguments. Bill is heading out to see if any of his snitches know anything about the muscle she hired. Everybody else is working the phones. I told you before, we'll figure this out."

Steve rubbed his eyes, dragging his hand down to his chin. He needed a shave. "Whatever," he replied, shaking loose of Norm grip.

"One more thing, Keller. When we're done downstairs, you're calling your landlord and going home to change. You ain't no Doctor Kildare, got me?"

A/N: Ether was in fact being phased out as early as the 1950's but was still in use in the 1970's. Records show that somewhere around 1 in 1,000 usages caused combustion. Yikes! As it oxidizes, it is highly volatile and will ignite with a spark or open flame.

If I butchered the foreign spellings, I'm sorry. I looked it up on Google.