Disclaimer

Sorry it's been a while coming kiddos, but this one needed a crap-load of thinking and planning. Anyhoo, usual disclaimer provides, please copy/paste the usual 'I don't own anything to do with Numb3rs' stuff here.

I do, however, own the story and the Brits. Usual warning for violence, strong language and Cockney slang that will make those of you not from Mile End go, "Sorry, what?"

Roll credits and wonky Numb3rs board…

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"How did you manage it?" Micky Cox slid the bolt back on the Browning 9mm and checked the barrel. Without thinking, he tapped the magazine on the butt and slotted it into place, ramming the full magazine home and pushing the Browning into the back of his black combat trousers.

"Manage what?" Colby was in the middle of his own checks and slid the bullet-proof vest over his head. He secured the Velcro straps, making sure the vest fitted snuggly.

"Convince herself to stand down." Micky sat on the corner of a table and studied his friend.

Colby grinned in response. "Bud, she knew that going into combat in her present state would be a problem we all didn't need. It wasn't hard."

"Bollocks. I remember that tough old bird with a bullet wound in one shoulder, a dislocated elbow and a six inch battle knife gash across her stomach and she still managed to kick in a door, shoot two Taliban bastards and recover a CIA laptop that you lot had 'lost'!"

Colby let out a genuine laugh. "Man, I'd've paid to see that!"

"Wasn't so funny for Mohammed and Mustafa, I can tell ya. Poor bastards must've thought that the devil himself had unleashed a pissed off Cockney djinn on their arses! Ya know that look she gets when she's really cross about something?"

"Uh-huh. I know it well."

"So I ask again. How in the buggering hell did you manage to get her to drop the bone without getting your own arse drop-kicked from here to next Tuesday?"

Colby finished buttoning his shirt over the kevlar vest and looked at Micky. He shrugged and smiled quietly. "Let's just say I know what to say and how to say it."

"Did you drug her? You did. You drugged her, didn't you?"

"What? NO! Micky! As if I would do such a thing!" Colby looked affronted and then briefly grinned again. "Actually, that was next on the list if the gentle persuasion didn't fly."

"You're a bad, bad man and you're gonna burn in hell, Colby Granger." Micky grinned back at his friend. Both of them knew that they were avoiding talking about the obvious situation by 'barrack room bantering' about a trivial matter. But it couldn't be avoided forever. Micky sighed and broke the silence. "Seriously, Col. Are you sure that calling Burkess out is the right move?"

For a moment Colby looked thoughtful and stared at the floor, anxiously rubbing at his left ring finger as if fiddling with some imaginary ring. He glanced up and Micky could see a flash of uncertainty in his friend's eyes. It disturbed him deeply – Colby Granger had always been very sure of every move he made. His ability to 'read' a combat situation was the very thing that made him such a good counterintelligence expert. Uncertainty wasn't part of the plan. Uncertainty could get them all killed…

"Col?"

"Honestly, Micky? I'm not. But what other alternative do we have?"

"We've got enough to bury the fucker up to his neck in shite. Couldn't we just take what we've got and…"

"No, Mick, we couldn't. Who would we take it to, bud? No, I need it straight from his own mouth. Marcus has me wired up and if I can get Burkess to talk to me, we might have a shot at bring the whole house of cards down around his ears."

"And if this isn't so much a meet and greet and more of a meet and kill?"

"Then you can make sure they put 'Here lies Colby John Granger. He was wrong about that one' on my tombstone, bud."

"Col, I promised Dee I'd keep you alive. Don't make a liar out of me." The humour had vanished from Micky's voice. Colby stood up and laid a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder.

"That's one thing I'd never do, Micky. You have my word on that."

"I'm holding you to that, Granger."

The door opened and Doug Cross strolled in, a bemused look on his face. "That little shit Franklin's whining like a teenager about his rights and how we don't have the right to hold him here, yada yada. Want me to put him out of our misery?"

Colby shook his head. "No. I want no more murders on my conscience, Dougie." For a moment, Colby looked exhausted – tired of all the killing, the lies, the treachery. He looked up at Doug, his green eyes filled with sadness. "Too many good people have died already, bud."

"He's not a good person, Col."

"He's still a person, Dougie. He has rights. Remember that." Colby turned his back on his two friends and started re-checking his equipment. Doug glanced over at Micky, a questioning look on his face. Micky frowned and just shook his head, the unspoken comment instantly understood by Doug. 'Leave it. Col knows what he's doing…'

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Don's world had literally exploded. He stood next to the taped barrier that had been set up around the entrance lobby to the FBI's Los Angeles building, knives stabbing into his guts as he watched yet another bodybag being gently carried out by fire crews. Tears rimmed his brown eyes. Fifteen years with the Bureau and what had it achieved? Friends, colleagues, all of them good men and women had died today. Died suddenly, violently and savagely. Blood ran along the cracks between the paving slabs and the smell of death was everywhere. Stunned, injured agents sat around, their wounds being hastily patched up by overstretched medics. The enemy had brought the battle to their very doorstep in spectacular style…

David quietly walked up behind his boss and laid a hand on Don's shoulder. Don just stared into the smashed concrete abyss that had just half an hour earlier been a high security, high tech entrance lobby. "What's it all for, David?" He turned abruptly and stared deep into his friend's eyes. "What we do? All this? What's it all for?"

David chose his words carefully. He knew that at moments like this, Don depended on him to be the rock he could cling to in desperate waters that threatened to drown him in a sea of doubt. His fingers flexed on his friend's shoulders. "So that things like this don't happen to people who can't fight back, Don. So that we can find the people behind this and bring them to justice. And…" he gave Don a small smile, "so we can go home to the people we love at the end of the day and know they're safe. That's why we do it. You wanna walk away now? From this?" David waved a hand at the scene of carnage and destruction in front of them. "You wanna turn your back? Say it's too much to deal with?"

"No."

David smiled again. "Nor me, brother. Nor me. And right now, Colby's bustin' his ass trying to stop anything else like this happening. The least we can do is work our end like the team we are, Don."

Don nodded. He knew David was right. He knew that, no matter how deeply traumatised he was by the sight of the supposedly safe world he had known for fifteen years being blown to pieces by a suicide bomber, there were still nine million people out there depending on him to stop it from happening again. There were the families of at least sixteen agents who wanted answers. And there was a member of his team, a friend that he loved like a brother, out there alone, with just three SAS buddies to back him up… He sniffed sharply and rubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the grief, the pain and the doubt. He did what Colby always did. He pushed it deep into a mental filing cabinet and shut the door on it. There would be time to grieve later. There would be time to take a long, hard look at his life after he had brought those responsible for this atrocity to justice…

Nikki trotted up to the two men, dirt smeared on her normally flawless complexion and a serious look in her large, brown eyes. "The building's safe. We can go back in through the back entrance. Deputy Director Collins is briefing all SACs in twenty minutes in the war room. LAPD are swamped with the riots downtown and we're getting reports coming in across the city of…"

Nikki stopped in mid-sentence as yet another bodybag was carefully carried out in front of them. Seventeen dead. Five more unaccounted for. It was the FBI's worst day ever…

The three agents watched in silent, grief-filled respect as the black, plastic shroud containing the body of Agent Paul Foster was carried out. The site of the bodybag steeled Don's resolve and he frowned angrily. "Get upstairs, both of you. I want you to co-ordinate the response from our team, David. Nikki, liase with LAPD. Get me everything and anything you can."

"What about getting Charlie in?"

"I don't want Charlie anywhere near this, David. It would be…too much for him." Don shook his head and abruptly walked away.

Nikki stared after her boss. She hadn't known him for long, but seeing him rattled like this shook her own wafer-thin confidence. David saw the uncertainty in her eyes and patted her on the shoulder. "Nikki, Don needs us to do our job right now, okay?"

Nikki nodded, trying to push down and suppress her own desire to just sit on the corner of the sidewalk and weep. They had a job to do…

David glanced around, frowning. "Where's Dee?"

"Diane? I thought she was with you?" Nikki shook her head, her curls bouncing and sending particles of dust scattering from her locks. They all looked like earthquake victims right now, but appearance was unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

"No, she came out with us, but in the panic we must've got separated…"

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Diane Armstrong watched the emergency response from a distance, the cell phone pressed to her ear. She had already spoken to her bosses at the NSA, British military intelligence, MI6, Hereford and Langley. She had one more call to make…

"Granger…"

"Colby, it's me." Diane turned her back on the chaos for a few seconds. "The Bureau's been hit. Suicide bomber. Blew the shit out of the lobby. We've got a lot of dead people here, baby."

"Jesus! Don? Dav…"

She interrupted him, reassuring him that his friends were safe. "…They're okay."

"Are you okay, baby?"

"I'm fine. Look, sweetie, whatever Burkess is planning, it looks like it's started. The rozzas are swamped trying to stop the riot in the downtown area, the FBI's tied up with this and I have no idea what's next. You know they say bad things come in threes?"

"Give me your best guess."

"Best guess? Jesus, Colby, we're dealing with complete sociopaths here, your guess is as good as mine. Burkess said LA was gonna burn and he wasn't fuckin' joking. Listen, I'm going to go back in and start trying to put together the pieces. You just make sure…"

"Give me the phone, Agent Armstrong." The voice was flat, cold and sounded like it had a gun to back it up. Diane turned and stared straight into the business end of a Glock. The man behind the gun smiled nastily and raised an eyebrow. His voice was soft, menacing and shot through with steel. He held out a hand. "Nice and slow. I know who you are, and what you're capable of. One wrong move and your glittering career ends right here, right now. Give me the phone now."

Diane stared at the man, her green eyes darkening. A feral smile spread across her lips. "Colby? Sweetie? Bit of a problem my end. I'm being kidnapped at gunpoint. Apparently, this pratt wants to talk to you."

"Dee? DEE!"

Diane held the phone out, the feral smile still on her lips. "Make it good, my friend."

The man snatched the phone from her hands and held it up to his ear. "Agent Granger. For a dead man walking you're damn hard to kill, you know that? Listen very carefully, or the next time you see your girlfriend will be at her memorial service, understand? Mr Burkess feels that a meet and greet is a good idea. But just in case you have any…ideas, we're taking Agent Armstrong somewhere safe until all this is sorted out."

"You harm one hair on her head, my friend and I SWEAR…"

"Agent Granger, your threats are pretty damn hollow right now. Just do exactly as you're told and perhaps, just perhaps you might both get out of this alive." The man shrugged. "Then again, you might not. It's been a bit of a strange old day all round today, isn't it? MacArthur Park. North East Corner. The old community centre. One hour. Alone, Granger. Any of your bastard Brit fuckers show their faces, you and Diane die instantly. Understand?" The man waited for Colby to respond…

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Colby's grip tightened on the phone and a look of absolute fury darkened his normally gentle, jovial face. "Understood." He shut the phone and hurled it across the room, the casing shattering into a hundred pieces.

Micky flinched at the explosion of fury from his friend, deep concern furrowing his brow. "Col?"

"They've got Dee."

"What?"

Colby ignored his friend and pushed past a startled Doug, marching out through the door and into the next room. Marcus looked up sharply as Colby entered. "Everything alright, Guv?"

Colby ignored the question and grabbed hold of the still-tethered Jeff Franklin. The red mist descended and his first blow rocked the man's head back, a shower of blood spurting from his mouth.

"WHOA! COL!" Marcus leapt up and tried to stop the big American beating their captive to death. Blow after blow rained down on Franklin, Colby ignoring Marcus' struggles to pull him off the battered, bleeding man.

"WHERE HAVE THEY TAKEN HER?" Colby's fists flew at a frightening speed, each punch delivering more pain and broken bones. "WHERE IS SHE?" He felt the man's cheekbone shatter under his fist, but the sensation merely spurred him on to more savagery.

"COLBY!" Micky and Doug sprinted into the room and immediately took in the tableau in front of them. Micky grabbed Colby's arm as it pulled back to deliver another blow, his own powerful strength competing with the bigger man's. Doug wrapped his arms around Colby's waist and the three men finally managed to drag Colby off Franklin, Micky twisting and putting himself between the semi-conscious man and his friend. "COLBY! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!" For a second, Colby's utterly furious, penetrating stare focused on his friend. Micky could see the madness behind the eyes and he pushed Colby back further, Marcus and Doug still holding onto him and moving as one. "This is NOT gonna get Dee back, Col! THINK!"

Colby felt the opposite wall at his back and the three powerful soldiers gripping him. His breathing was heavy, but slowly, the madness that had descended started to clear, the fog in his mind dissipating. He looked past Micky at the beaten and bloody form of Frankin, still tied to the chair, his head lolling on his chest. The man was gurgling, choking on his own blood…

The three soldiers felt Colby's muscles relax and they gingerly slackened their grip on their friend, ready to restrain him again should he launch a second attack on their captive. It didn't come. Colby closed his eyes and slowly slid down the wall, crouching with his head dropped forward, battling to bring his emotions under control.

Micky glanced back at Franklin. "Marcus, check that pillock's still alive, would ya?" Marcus nodded and carefully let go of Colby's left arm. "Doug, call Don. Speed dial three." He tossed a phone at his friend. "Tell him what's happened. Go." Doug nodded and flipped open the phone, walking off to a quiet corner to have the conversation.

Micky crouched in front of his friend, his hand resting carefully on Colby's shoulder. "Col? Hey, c'mon, Col, head's up mate. Look at me. Col…" Colby's head slowly came up, the green eyes still closed. Micky could see the tension in every muscle – his friend was like a coiled spring ready to explode again. "Open your eyes, Col. Look at me."

The green eyes slowly opened and Colby stared straight into Micky's own piercing blue eyes. "They've got Dee, Micky. The bastards have got Dee!" Colby's voice was a hoarse whisper, the words sticking in his throat.

"I know, mate. I know. But while beating Franklin to death might make you feel better, but it ain't gonna get her back. Now tell me exactly what the bastard said to you."

"MacArthur Park in an hour. Alone. Or Dee dies." Colby's head dropped forward again as the fury rose up in him again."

Micky swore quietly. "Col, listen to me. They've done this deliberately. They're hitting you where they know you're vulnerable. You need to start thinking clearly if Dee's gonna get out of this alive. We'll be with you every step…"

"No Mick. You guys show up, it's over."

"Col, you're talking about three of the best ghosts in the business, mate. They won't even know we're there."

"They'll know, Mick. They're fuckin' good at what they do. Don't underestimate them." Colby glowered angrily at his friend.

"They're not as good as we are, Col." Micky grinned briefly. "Nobody is. Now pull yourself together and apologise to the nice, bloodied and battered man in the chair over there for trying to beat him to death."

"Fuck off, Micky."

"Colby, we're going with you. Don't even think about arguing with me." Micky's voice was suddenly hard. "Dee's my friend too. And I promise you I'm gonna do everything I can to get you both out of this alive, understood? Understood?" Colby nodded slowly. Micky patted him on the shoulder and stood up, offering his hand out to his friend. Colby grasped the hand and Micky hauled him back up to his feet. Micky locked gazes with the American one last time and smiled. The smile wasn't a nice one… "Right then. As you lot say, shall we do this?"

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MacArthur Park was quiet at this time of night. In the distance the scream of sirens could be heard as LAPD's finest battled to bring the downtown riot under control. The main trouble spots had been cleared but pockets of fighting between the gangs were still breaking out sporadically. The FBI building could be seen in the distance, its façade lit up in a vivid, flickering red and blue glow from the myriad of emergency service vehicles surrounding its jagged, shattered front entranceway.

Colby stood quietly in the shadows, listening intently to the symphony of a city in flames.

He felt as if he'd failed.

Diane, the woman he loved more than life itself, was a captive – held prisoner by the very man he was here to meet. He knew Burkess was easily capable of having them both killed in an instant without any regret, any thought for the lives he was so casually tossing away or with any shred of remorse.

Burkess was that most evil of men – a man who believed that what he did was done 'for the greater good'. And that included the shedding of innocent blood well then…so be it. In the twisted, distorted mind of Walter Burkess, his actions were those of a hero. Cutting out the cancer of a weak presidency through the self-fulfilling prophecy of all-out Civil War. Not the petty squabble between the North and South in 1861 but a civil war that would be fought in the very hearts and minds of every single American, regardless of whether they were a northern Yankie or a good ol' Southern boy. He would show them. He would give the people a common enemy. Its own government. By pointing out the weaknesses within the fabric of a corrupt society, he, Walter Burkess, the saviour of the true American way, would finally be recognised for the brilliant, benevolent man that he was, able to place himself amongst the ranks of the greatest of men. He really was standing on the shoulders of giants.

In Walter Burkess' mind, all of this was true. He felt justified. True madness had taken control and when the threat of exposure through Operation Enigma's penetrating investigation of corruption within the highest echelons of the security services had jeopardised his position, he reacted like any cornered animal. He went on the attack.

A lunatic idea, born in the mind of a madman had lead to the destruction of property, death and the possibility that something had begun that could not be stopped. Burkess had done his job well. Pitting terrorist against terrorist, enemy against enemy, fuelling the fires of discontent and frightening the FUCK out of the rest of the population would have the desired effect of uniting the people against their own leadership. The government would fall, a new, more controllable leadership would be sworn in and Burkess and his like would be safe once again, the true power behind the presidential throne.

It was a simple, straightforward fuckin' pissing contest! Colby smiled. He hadn't failed. Not yet. He finally understood his enemy.

And by knowing your enemy, you know their weaknesses…

"Good evening, Colby." The voice was quiet, measured and almost friendly. Colby turned and confronted the man who had caused him and countless others a lifetime of horrific dreams, nightmares and soul-destroying memories filled with pain and torture. Others had been more fortunate. They had died quickly. Now more innocents were added to Burkess' body count. Strange, how the most evil of men often appear to be almost affable when first met…

Colby smiled quietly. "Burkess." He nodded over his shoulder at a city that screamed in urban agony. "You've been busy."

Walter Burkess chuckled to himself and sat down on a low wall, still cackling quietly to himself, as if deeply amused by Colby's comment. "Oh, that?" He looked up, a wry twist to his lips and the flicker of madness in his eyes. He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "It was nothing, really."

Colby recognised that look for what it was. It was the same madness he had felt for a brief second as he beat Franklin to within an inch of his life earlier. That sensation of being in utter control yet tailspinning towards the ground at a thousand miles an hour. The exhilaration of knowing that you were the instigator but no longer the master of events. Colby had managed, with Micky's help, to pull himself back from that ledge. Burkess, however, had leapt from it a long time ago and plummeted into the darkness of true, all-corrupting madness…

"This has to end, Walter."

"Oh, everything ends eventually, Colby. Even you. Me. Diane. Everything ends."

Colby slowly walked towards him, carefully plotting his path to ensure that Doug, hidden in the trees nearly half a mile away, still had a clear shot of his primary target.

On a pre-arranged safety word, Doug would take the kill shot. But under no other circumstances was he to take Burkess out. Colby had been absolutely adamant on that point. A second safety word would let Doug know to wing Burkess. A simple shoulder shot would do the trick. Even if Burkess was Kevlar'd up, there was a weak spot just in front of the clavicle bone on the man's shoulders where the Velcro padding strips would be. From this angle, it was the only available shot for Doug to take…

During the briefing, Doug had glanced to Micky for confirmation and the briefest of nods from the Englishman had given it – do exactly what Colby says. And Doug was not a man to ignore a direct order…

The Englishman looked through the telescopic sight on his .338 sniper rifle and carefully adjusted it so Burkess' head was slap-bang in the middle of them. The tiniest of adjustments would give him the shoulder shot. It all depended on which code word Colby gave… He could hear the conversation in his earpiece. Marcus had done his job well – Colby was coming through loud and clear…

Colby stopped a few yards from Burkess and slightly to one side of him. From a top storey window in the old community centre, Marcus Bowen carefully shifted his weight and zoomed in on Burkess as well. The man was covered from two angles. Both were kill shots…

Behind a low wall, Micky Cox silently belly-crawled along the dirt, repositioning closer to cover Colby's back. As he shuffled up to a trash can, a rat, disturbed by his unexpected presence, squeaked sharply and jumped down from the can, landing on Micky's back. The man lay stock still as the rat scuttled along his shoulder and jumped down to the ground. Its passage rattled the can and both Burkess and Colby sharply turned towards the sound. As they did, the rat emerged from behind the wall, stopping once to sniff the air and stare with black, beady eyes at Burkess, its whiskers twitching. It wrinkled its pink nose at him and scuttled away into the bushes, vanishing in the darkness.

Behind the wall, Micky swore into the dirt silently. "I HATE fuckin' RATS!" Even someone standing right next to his hiding place wouldn't have heard the words. He moved his head so he could tilt his eyes up, looking straight into Colby's green eyes. The American didn't even flicker. Not one, tiny, micro-expression gave him away. Burkess was completely unaware that just yards from where he sat lurked Colby's partner, hidden behind a seemingly innocent park wall. The very same wall that he sat on now…

Burkess looked back at Colby and laughed. "You'd really think the park authorities would do something about the rat problem, wouldn't you, Colby? Of course…" Burkess stood up and moved away. Behind the wall, Micky let out a silent sigh of relief… "When I'm in charge of things, we'll put street hygiene right at the very top of the agenda. I think the people will appreciate it, don't you?" Burkess paced, seeming to be deep in thought with every step.

"Absolutely." Colby shrugged. "Whatever you say, man."

Burkess stopped pacing and looked straight at Colby. He smiled. "And what of you, Agent Granger? Where do you think is your place in this mystery play?"

Colby shrugged again. "I guess I'm supposed to try and stop you."

Burkess let out a laugh, guffawing to himself. "Oh Colby, you're priceless, do you know that? Of course you're supposed to try and stop me! That's what the taxpayer pays your wages for, right? But my goodness, don't you think those good people would be asking for a goddamn rebate if they really knew about you, Agent Granger?" The merriment in his voice vanished in a trace, replaced by a snarling, threatening tone. "If they really knew about your operations behind enemy lines in Pakistan? Of your involvement in covert ops in the Balkans? In Libya? Beirut? Poland? Afghanistan? Two years undercover for the Chinese? Being recruited into the CIA while you were still in the Army? All those places you really weren't supposed to be in, Colby? All the people you killed silently, like the assassin you really are? All the executive orders you carried out? You think that taking some pledge and fighting the good fight with your friends in the FBI will atone you for what you've done, Colby? You have as much blood on your hands as I do!"

In the trees, Doug swore quietly. "C'mon, Col, hold it together! Don't let the fucker push your buttons…" He willed the volatile American to not rise to Burkess' goading. If he did, then Colby would loose the game – and the war…

"So what's the alternative, Walter?" Colby kicked idly at a pebble. It was a sign to his three friends to be ready to move… "Huh?" He looked up at Burkess. "What's the alternative to all this killing? If only one of us walks out of here alive, there's gonna be too many people asking too many questions for the survivor to cover it up. If I survive, you can guarantee that everything you said will come out eventually. It'll have to. It will be the only way. I'll spend the rest of my life in prison on treason charges and the repercussions could mean the end of the special relationship we have with the UK because you know full well that this goes way further up the fuckin' food chain than just you or me, buddy!" Colby glared angrily at Burkess. "You made a mistake getting the Brits involved, buddy. They tend to take shit like this real personal."

"It was you that brought those lunatics in, Granger, not me. And you honestly expect me to believe that you'd fall on your sword for the good of your country? Bullshit, Granger! Nobody's that stupid!"

Colby's voice was quiet. "I'm prepared to accept the consequences of my actions, Walter. Are you?"

Burkess chuckled. "Aren't you forgetting one small detail here, Colby? A certain British military intelligence offer? Our very own Penelope Pitstop in peril? Wonder where she is right now, Colby, huh? What do you think? Tied to a train track going, 'Haylp! Haylp!' like some hapless little cartoon victim?" Burkess snorted with derision. "Do you have any idea how much I hate people like you, Colby? People who claim to defend their country but instead consort with some pathetic little Mata Hari from a second-rate country we shouldn't even have anything to do with?"

"You're an isolationist nut, you know that, Burkess?"

"An isolationist nut who has your precious girlfriend held somewhere very damp, very unpleasant and in, oh, about three hours," he glanced at his watch, "somewhere where she'll be very dead!"

Colby hadn't forgotten that this man had the woman he loved held captive somewhere. He needed Burkess alive. But it was taking every ounce of self-control he possessed not to say the safeword and watch as Doug's deadly accurate bullet blew Burkess' brains out. "So tell me. What's the alternative?"

"There is none, Colby." Burkess shrugged. "Obviously, you're not getting out of here alive. To be honest, I'm quiet surprised you showed up at all. But then, of course, we did do a little…arm twisting, didn't we?" He held up a hand. "No, no, don't worry. Diane is fine. For now." Burkess nodded at him and chuckled again. "But you're not in such a fortunate position." Colby glanced down and a red pinpoint of light danced across his chest and up his throat. The red dot flickered between his eyes. Burkess' sniper had Colby in his sights…

"You could have killed me at any time. Why wait until now?" Colby ignored the flickering light.

"Because I wanted you to know, Colby. I wanted you to know that all of your pledge of allegiance shit, all of your desperate attempts at compensating for your actions has been in vain, my friend. Because I wanted to see you break before you died for myself!" Burkess snarled the words at Colby. "In five hours, a member of the Free America Front will walk into a Muslim school in Los Angeles and, in the name of racial purity and out of revenge for the attack on the FBI, which, in his twisted little mind is an attack upon his beloved American state despite the fact that he hates the Feds as much as that poor, deluded fool who blew up your friends hates them, will proceed to blow the shit out of the place. That'll be the straw that breaks the camel's back, Granger. All out war within our own borders. It'll be months of recriminations, reprisals and all the time the government will thrash around wildly like a prickless eunuch! When the time is right, we'll step in and round up those responsible, seeing as we know exactly who they are since," and once again, Burkess chuckled dementedly, "after all, we are the ones paying them! We'll round them up, save the day, restore peace and order and bring about a new America! A better America!"

Colby stared wide-eyed at the man and chuckled himself. "Wow. You really are nuts, ain't ya? Seriously? The whole, 'I'm gonna rule the world' shit? Really?"

"Careful, Granger." Burkess scowled darkly at the man. "Remember your position. Remember Dee's position. Choose your words carefully. They could be Diane's last."

Colby scowled. "Now, ya see? That doesn't even make any sense! You're losing it, buddy. Seriously." Colby grinned and put his finger to the side of his head, wiggling it around in a circle. "Nuts. Completely nuts. That's gonna do wonders for the insanity plea when I put you in jail, Walter."

"Are you trying to antagonise me, Granger?"

"Bud, I wouldn't dream of it. You're too far out there as it is. You honestly think that this crazy plan of yours will work?"

"Who do you think kept McCain and Palin out of the Whitehouse, Granger? Huh?"

"Um, the voters?"

"Us! Not those pathetic, sheep-like proletariat! It was us! We thought Obama would be more…malleable. But the damn fool decided to go and set himself up as some sort of next generation Kennedy." Burkess smiled darkly. "And seeing as you're a bit of a JFK aficionado, you know how well that ended…"

"History repeating itself huh, Burkess? The grassy knoll all over again? C'mon man, people didn't buy it the first time around, they sure as hell ain't gonna buy it this time!"

"An assassin's bullet would just make Obama into a martyr. No Colby, I aim to destroy him! And there's nothing you can do to stop me!"

"Really?"

"Really!"

"Shouldn't you be laughing maniacally at this point? Or stroking a white cat or something?" The jokes were snarled out. Colby wasn't in a laughing mood.

"I'm tiring of you, Colby."

"So fix my patriotic ass to a fuckin' laser, Blofeld, and blow me to fuck and back!" Colby had had enough of the rhetoric. The red mist was dangerously close to overwhelming him again.

"I already have you at the end of a laser, Colby. Or had you forgotten?" Burkess smiled and the laser target that danced between Colby's eyes flickered again. Colby ignored it.

Marcus didn't.

The laser sight gave him a target to aim at. At the window of the community centre, Marcus Bowen swung the barrel of his .338 around and away from Burkess. He knew Doug had the primary shot at the older man. His job was to hunt down and eliminate any unfriendlies that may have joined the party. 'Blofeld' had been his safeword from Colby to take out any secondary targets... The heavy silencer on the end of the barrel reduced the accuracy of his weapon, but Marcus was an expert. He compensated for the additional weight and damping effects of the silencer on the bullet's velocity and aimed right down the beam of red light. In the magnified lens of the sight he could make out a head wrapped in a black balaclava, the whites of the sniper's eyes shining in his night-vision sight. The sniper wasn't even looking up at the building. His eyes were fixed on his target – Colby. He had no idea that he was about to die…

Marcus' gun let out a muffled 'pop'. The red light that had danced between Colby's eyes shot up skyward and disappeared as the sniper fell back in the bushes, dead. Marcus had been deadly accurate. A damp stain spread into the thick wool of the balaclava and droplets of red blood trickled down the man's open, lifeless eyes and onto his cheek.

Burkess flinched and stepped back, looking around wildly. His head snapped back towards Colby and he practically foamed at the mouth with fury. "I said alone, Granger! ALONE!"

In an instant, Colby's A1 pistol appeared in the big man's hand and his face contorted into a snarl. "Where is she, Burkess?"

"You lied! You disgusting little spy!" Burkess' own Glock was already drawn and he pointed it straight at Colby.

Colby merely smiled nastily. "Light him up, boys!" In an instant, two red dots appeared, one flickering from a high vantage point in the community centre, another from behind Colby.

At the same instant, Micky Cox popped up from behind the wall, just yards away from Burkess. He hissed at the older man. "Drop it, Burkess!"

Colby was still smiling. "Did you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to walk into this little meet and greet without some heavy artillery backing me up? Didn't know who to trust from my own side, so I made a couple of phone calls." The grin turned to a snarl. "Pays to know who your friends are, as well as who your enemies are, buddy. And you, Walter, are all outta friends!"

Micky moved silently and quickly, hopping over the low wall and trotting to Burkess. He ripped the Glock from the man's hands and spun him around, kicking him sharply in the side of the knee as he did so. "On your knees!" Burkess dropped down, his eyes never leaving Colby. Micky wrenched his outstretched arms back and wrapped a thick cable tie around the man's wrists. It zipped shut and the man kneeled, trussed and bound, Micky's vice-like grip on his collar.

Colby holstered his gun and walked towards the kneeling man. He dropped down to a crouch in front of the older man. Hatred still filled Burkess' eyes and he snarled back at Colby. Granger looked at the man impassively and undid the top three buttons of his shirt. He pulled the material back just enough for Burkess to see the wire of a bug stuck to the outside of his Kevlar vest. Burkess knew every word had been recorded and heard by witnesses. Colby let the material fall back and stared intently at his captive. "It's over, Burkess. Over. Just tell me where Diane is."

Burkess chuckled nastily. "Somewhere where you'll never find her, Granger! And in three hours, she'll be washed away into that stinking, sewerage-filled sea that you both so love sitting by and staring out at the sunset! You haven't stopped anything, Granger! Nothing! That school will still be the spark that lights the fire. A shit-load of dead children? Oh, my friend, the repercussions will be unstoppable! And do you really think you've got time to torture the information out of me?" He laughed again, a crazed sound of a man whose mind and sanity were shattered. "Save the girl or save the children? Which one you gonna go for, Granger? Because the clock's ticking! Tick, tick, tick…"

"Ya know, the last person who said that to me ended up with a bullet in his brain." Colby snarled at the man, his face just inches from Burkess' own. "Shot by someone I thought was a friend of mine. Funny enough, he tried to kill me as well. Oh, and lookit! I'm still here, buddy!" Colby stood up suddenly and looked at Micky. "You know what to do with this piece of shit."

Micky nodded. "Lawrence is sending a recovery team right now. I called him as you asked. Agents from Enigma are so lookin' forward to talking at length to this son of a bitch, Col. We'll get him to the airfield and meet up with Lawrence." He slung the FMP90 over his shoulder and held out his hand. Colby gripped it firmly and smiled at his friend. Micky nodded. "Now go find Dee before its too late, Col. We don't have much time."

Colby released his friend's hand and sniffed sharply. He looked one last time at Burkess and smiled. "You should read the Art of War sometime, Burkess. There's one piece of advice that kinda works here. Know what that is?" Burkess, puzzled by Colby's words, shook his head.

"No. What?"

"It says that a skilful soldier does not raise a second levy. Know what that means? It means you should never split your forces, buddy. And you did exactly that by taking Diane. Trouble is, my friend, I got myself two armies. I don't have to save the girl and the children by myself, bud. I got me a team. A team of people I trust who can stop your run of three, Burkess. They'll find that bomber. I'll find Diane. And you?" Colby stared deep into Burkess' eyes, turning the hatred back on the man. "You will have lost, Walter!" Colby sniffed sharply and stood back. "Get him out of here."

Micky yanked hard at Burkess' collar and dragged him to a waiting car. Marcus emerged from the community centre, cradling his .338 like a baby. From the treeline, Doug trotted up, breathing easily from the short sprint and also cradling a .338. "Marcus, go with Micky. Make sure Burkess gets on that plane. Doug? I need your help.

"Copy that Guv." Marcus trotted after Micky and Doug stood quietly by Colby's side watching his two friends take away one of the most treacherous men in American history…

"Orders, Guv?"

"Huh?" Colby blinked and turned to face Doug.

"We've got three hours, old son. Burkess was right on that. Clock is ticking."

"First I need to speak to Don. They need to be tracking down which school the Free America Front are intending to hit."

"And then?"

Colby looked deadly serious. "Then? Then, we save the girl, Doug. We save Dee…"

TBC…