Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of DM. I do own the ones that I created.
Author's notes: Doctor Gavin Reed appeared in the Season Four episode "Delusions of Murder" (spoilers). Also major references to "Alienated" and minor ones to other eps.
So, finally I have another chapter and I'm also going to include another apology. When I started writing and posting this story, my circumstances were a whole lot different to what they are now. I never envisaged that I would change jobs, but now I'm working longer hours and also facing a commute every day. It leaves me with much less time to myself. So I'm sorry that it's taking me so long to get the chapters up, but please rest assured that this story will be completed eventually. Thanks for your patience and continued thanks for the reviews.
TRANCE.
Part Thirty-Six.
Waiting was a bitch. Steve had always hated it and he always would – even though he fully understood how essential a part of his job that waiting was.
To catch Liddell, for it all to go down smoothly and without hitch, the feds had to be in position early. And early meant a full four hours before the henchman's appointment was scheduled. They knew how thorough and professional Liddell was and nothing was being left to chance.
Thankfully, Steve had been spared the majority of that waiting.
The van housing him and Olsen pulled up outside LA's Monument Bank and as the driver exited, behaving as though he had every legitimate reason to be there, they remained in its rear.
There was only approximately one hour to wait before Liddell was due.
So Steve sat in the back of the unmarked van, staring intently at monitors showing the interior of the bank. But, no matter how hard he stared, he couldn't help but see Jesse's strained and terrified face – and wonder what the hell was going on down at the precinct.
"When Liddell shows, I want you to stay put." Olsen said, rudely interrupting Steve's brooding. "This isn't the time for heroics, or any kind of vigilante shit."
"What?" Steve had already begun to question just what he was doing there, when the alternative was to be supporting his friend. Olsen's words only added fuel to his internal debate.
"I mean it, Sloan. I'm out on a limb just letting you get this close."
"So why am I even here?" Steve exploded to his feet, finally accepting what, deep down, he'd known all along: the bust wasn't important. Jesse was. He lunged for the door handle, but a surprisingly strong hand on his arm stopped him before he could open it.
"You can't go out there. Liddell might arrive at any moment," Olsen said. "If he makes you…" The rest didn't need to be said.
"Then you tell me what I'm really doing here," he retorted, his tone making it clear that he didn't like being taken for a fool. "Because you didn't risk blowing the entire operation by having me brought here so late on in the show and you sure didn't invite me to just sit here and cool my heels – not when you know what I've got invested in this."
Olsen closed his eyes. When he opened them, he briefly raised them to the heavens.
"Answer me, dammit!" Steve easily broke the grip on his arm and started to open the door. The odds of his exit coinciding with Liddell's arrival were slim enough for him to take the chance. Olsen obviously didn't feel the same way.
"Alright, you win." The agent looked away, clearly embarrassed. "We've only ever seen the sketches of Liddell and, no matter how good they are, we need you to make a positive ID."
Steve smiled at him, but it was a smile completely devoid of humour. "Tell me I'm in on the bust," he said. "Or put your faith in a caricature. Your choice."
It wasn't fair on Jesse, he knew that. His work with the police artist had been incredible – but no drawing was ever going to be as foolproof as an ID from an eye witness. Particularly if that witness was involved in law enforcement. Steve had Olsen over a barrel and both men were fully aware of that fact.
"I hate this." Olsen shook his head. "I didn't invite you in because I don't know what the hell you're going to do. You want to kill this guy."
"No. No I don't. I just want to see him pay." Steve forced out the lie. He did want to kill Richard Liddell; he wanted to choke the life out of him with his bare hands for what he'd done. But he'd settle for justice, because that was the best he was being offered.
"Okay," Olsen was still shaking his head, even though his words weren't negative. "You're in, but follow my lead." As Steve smiled in satisfaction, Olsen grabbed his wrist again. "I mean it. We go by the book."
Back at the precinct, the scene was almost surreal. To an outsider, it might have seemed as though time was standing still and the only person unaffected by that phenomena was the hypnotist, Martin Samson.
As his soothing voice lured Jesse into his thrall, every eye was on him. No-one moved, no-one blinked, no-one hardly even seemed to breathe. And it wasn't just inside the Interview Room that the effect existed.
Outside in the anteroom, looking in, Mark and Amanda clutched hands and focussed their every energy on what was happening. Independently, and unbeknownst to one another, they were both also silently praying.
The process was a slow and gradual one – designed to put Jesse at ease. It was a standard hypnotic technique. The crunch would come once Jesse was well and truly under – and that time arrived with frightening alacrity:
"Go back to the night of the fourteenth." Samson said, his tone suddenly strong and commanding.
"The fourteenth..?" Jesse whispered, his eyes open but unfocussed.
In the anteroom, Mark stiffened. Jesse had sounded so utterly terrified, he belatedly asked himself if he truly was doing the right thing. But it was far, far too late for that question.
"Tuesday night, Doctor Travis." Samson exhibited no sympathy. If anything, his voice hardened. "Tuesday night after you left the hospital and before you arrived home. I'm going to allow you to remember that."
Mark felt Amanda whip her head around to look at him, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the window. The last words that Samson had said had definitely belonged to Reed.
"I got out of my car." Jesse's voice was small and lost and he clearly already feared the memories that were about to unfold. "He was waiting for me."
"Who was waiting for you? Was I waiting for you?"
Mark flinched as Samson said those words. If Reed had suggested this technique then they were playing a very dangerous game. It couldn't cause anything but harm for Jesse to believe, even subconsciously, that Reed had hypnotised him again.
"A man… I don't know him." Jesse's agitation grew as the memories were forced back into his head. "He knocked me down and tied my hands and…" Tears formed in his eyes. "The trunk of the car… I thought I was going to die…"
"But you didn't die," Samson reminded him needlessly, in a voice that was no longer even close to soothing or reassuring. "Did you?"
Amanda's grip on Mark's hand turned vice like and he couldn't help but turn to look at her. The distress in her eyes was as strong as the shock in his own.
"Mark, it isn't right," she almost sobbed. "We have to stop this."
"We can't." He forced the words past a sudden dryness in his throat. Deep down he agreed with her, but he had been forced to put his faith in Gavin Reed and now that faith was being tested to the full. "There's nothing left, Amanda. There's nothing else that we can try."
"But Mark…"
"I have faith in Martin," Mark insisted – and that was true. It was Gavin Reed who he didn't trust. "Reed's techniques won't have had anything to do with gentle persuasion. He used drugs and torture and terror tactics. Maybe that's all that will reach Jesse now."
During his one brief encounter with Richard Liddell, Steve had formed a very strong impression of the man. It wasn't just the hatred that he felt for him – and that hatred was deeply passionate – it was also on an instinctive level; the kind of instinct that every good cop had.
He had seen into the personality of the man and the small clues that he had been offered had gelled into an understanding of how Liddell worked.
He knew that the thug wouldn't be late – but nor would he arrive exactly on time. Steve had the unshakable feeling that the man would arrive with enough time to spare to take into account the possibility of having to queue. There was no way that he would risk missing his appointment.
So, when eight minutes to the allotted hour arrived, Steve instantly became more alert and focussed. The fact did not go unnoticed by his FBI counterpart.
"Do you see him?" Olsen asked, leaning in closer to the monitors.
"Not yet, but…" His eyes narrowed as he watched a man appear in the frame. "Right on time." He got to his feet.
"Let him get inside." Olsen didn't quite reach out to physically stop him from moving, lest it be interpreted as trying to keep him from the confrontation. "It's more secure."
"Is security in on it?" Steve asked, his eyes flicking back to the monitors and trying to register the reaction of the guards.
"They're expecting us, but we never told them who. And we only ever gave them an approximate time – two hour window, so they don't get twitchy." His eyes remained glued to the monitor, as he watched Liddell approach the information desk. There was only one person waiting in line. "Let's go."
"Oh yeah." Steve couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "Let's get him before he has the chance to touch your money."
Steve's gun was out of his holster even before the van door was open but, as eager as he was, he knew to stay behind Olsen as he approached the main doors. The bank was expecting the FBI and a mere flash of his badge might not be enough to get him past a security guard that was already expecting some kind of trouble. And the last thing he wanted to do was cause a scene and startle their prey into flight. That would only make the bust messy.
His prudence won out and they entered the bank silently and stealthily – just as the final customer stepped to one side and Liddell was left at the front of the queue. Steve's eyes quickly scanned the area – looking for mirrors or reflective surfaces, or anything else that might give him away. When he saw none, he calmly stepped into the space that the thug had just occupied.
And, given the proximity of their target, there was nothing the feds could do about it. Though Steve could sense Olsen going into apoplexy behind him.
"I have an appointment…" Liddell's voice was calm and assured. He had a deal, he had nothing to fear.
"You've got an appointment alright." The opening couldn't have been any more obvious and Steve stepped neatly into it – grasping hold of the henchman's arm. "With the law."
Startled, Liddell spun around, his hand reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. Then his brain caught up with his instincts and he recognised Steve Sloan. He started to laugh – and that laugh contained nothing but contempt.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he sneered. He noticed the gun that Steve held, but never considered it as a threat. "You can't touch me. Remember the tape? It's in the safest of places, if you're thinking of reneging on our deal."
"I'm not reneging on anything." Steve's free hand fished for his handcuffs. "And I am taking you down."
As soon as his hands were secure, Steve spun his nemesis around and away from the counter. Then they came face to face with Olsen.
Steve wasn't expecting repercussions there and then. Olsen was too much of a professional to jeopardise the bust in any way – but he knew that there would be plenty to say in the aftermath. But, at that moment in time, he didn't give a damn about any reprimand. He just took pleasure in the moment.
"I'm out before you even complete the paperwork." Liddell spat into the FBI man's face. "Didn't this jerk tell you that we made a deal?"
"I know all about the deal. I know everything that it legally entails." Olsen's face remained impassive. "So I know that it didn't include the fact that you accepted payment to assassinate Mark Sloan."
"You can't know that…" Liddell registered emotion for the first time and that emotion was shock.
"You'd be surprised at what we know." Steve shouldered Olsen to one side and loomed over Liddell. "You're looking at twenty- five to life for conspiracy to commit murder."
Then Steve allowed the feds to lead Liddell away. As soon as they were out of sight, he sagged against a wall.
He had expected to feel a sense of accomplishment, of achievement, but he only felt numb. Richard Liddell had been brought to justice, but he was left with nothing. No satisfaction, no triumph. Nothing.
And it was, he knew, because he had never got the chance to vent his frustration on the man who had made their lives such a living hell. He'd wanted him to fight, he realised; he'd wanted a struggle, a commotion, anything that would allow him to use his fists and maybe inflict some physical pain on the man who had caused them all such utter anguish.
Instead, he was left feeling horribly dissatisfied. And the feeling was only compounded by the knowledge that he had effectively betrayed his best friend. Liddell was being taken down no matter what – as much as Steve disliked the feds, he knew they wouldn't have screwed that up.
He also knew that he had screwed up. He was Jesse's best friend and he had let him down in the worst way possible: by not being there when he was needed.
At least that was something he could attempt to resolve, he suddenly decided as he watched three patrol cars screech haphazardly to a halt outside the front of the bank. He briefly wondered as to their presence and then belatedly realised that he had heard at least one person scream during the bust – but then men with guns inside a bank were always likely to provoke such a reaction. He guessed that one of the cashiers must also have impulsively triggered the silent alarm – hence the sudden presence of the uniforms.
The feds – Olsen included – had disappeared along with Liddell and Steve fervently hoped that he would never, ever lay eyes on the henchman again. He didn't overly care what happened to him – it was enough for him to know that he wasn't running loose on the streets of LA. It was a reason for Jesse to sleep ever so slightly easier at night.
He swiftly and surreptitiously made his way towards the nearest fire exit. He wasn't about to get out of the main door – not without being, at the very least, stopped and questioned as a potential witness, badge or no badge. One more alarm, when he opened the fire door, wasn't going to make a great deal of difference.
As he made it out onto the street, he remembered that his car was back at the hospital. When Olsen had showed up with his offer, Steve hadn't thought further ahead than the actual bust. He'd made his choice and to hell with the consequences. Now he was seriously regretting his short-sightedness.
He was hanging around close to a bank that had just been raided by police and it wouldn't serve his best interests to stay there for too long. Though he hoped that his badge would prevent any serious repercussions, he didn't relish the idea of having to answer a whole host of questions
He moved further away from the bank and fished his cellphone from his pocket. It was highly unlikely that he had missed hearing it ring, but he checked it anyway. He hadn't missed any calls. That meant that neither his dad nor Amanda had anything to report, as yet. And that meant that the hypnotism was still in progress.
It had to be because, whatever the outcome, someone would have contacted him if it all been over.
Steve glanced up at the sky. It was a fine day, but it wouldn't have mattered if a hurricane had been blowing. He was only a half dozen blocks away from the precinct. There was still time for him to make things right again – and he broke into a run, in order to ensure he was in time to do exactly that.
The hypnotism was getting difficult to watch. In fact, it was getting nigh on impossible – and they still hadn't touched on the subject that they were desperate to get to the heart of. Exactly what had Reed commanded Jesse to do? And what, if any, residual effects were still lurking inside his tortured mind?
So Mark and Amanda forced themselves to listen, as Jesse hesitatingly recounted the details of his first abduction – from the moment that Liddell had first ambushed him, to being dragged brutally from the trunk of the car.
It was traumatic, it was disturbing – and they were only talking about that first night. They still had the other two abductions to cover.
But Martin – his voice consistently hard and cruel – relentlessly lingered on that first night; on every tiny little detail. And then came the question that everyone had been waiting – and yet dreading – to hear:
"And after the injection – what happened then?"
"Uh… He was talking, but…" Jesse faltered. Walls had been built, blocks had been put in place and now they were crumbling.
You will kill Mark Sloan.
Words, instructions, commands – they were all being wiped out by that simple truth.
You will kill Mark Sloan.
"Doctor Travis, you will do as I say!" Martin Samson was suddenly on his feet. "Do you understand me?"
And those words were the trigger. Everything crashed back into Jesse's head and he recoiled from the weight of the memories.
"Do you understand me?" Martin demanded again.
"Yes." Jesse's head raised and he smiled – but the smile looked almost sinister when his eyes were still lost somewhere in the distance.
"Then tell me."
You will kill Mark Sloan.
"I will kill Mark Sloan."
"And if you fail?" Martin pressed, relentlessly.
"I won't fail. I can't fail." Jesse's voice was monotone. Obviously, something subliminal still had control.
"But if he lives?"
"I will kill Mark Sloan."
In the anteroom, Mark silently shook his head. It couldn't end like this – the damage couldn't be irreversible. He knew that Amanda was crying silently next to him – and his gaze bored through the one-way glass as he willed Martin Samson to come up with a miracle.
Martin looked towards the glass – as though seeking permission, or redemption, or something else entirely. And then he spoke – but he spoke with such reluctance that it seemed that the words were torn out of him.
"I absolve you, I release you," he said – and it was clear that Reed had given him the words to say. "You are free. Do you understand me?"
And Mark's alarm bells went into full alert. Do you understand me? That phrase had been the one consistency throughout.
And his fears were only confirmed when Jesse suddenly began to laugh. It wasn't laughter borne of comedy, or hilarity, or any kind of release. It was the laughter of triumph.
"So you figured it out," he said and the strength in his voice was eerie, given the emptiness in his eyes. "And you're doing this for one of two reasons. Did I kill him or didn't I?"
Martin floundered. He wasn't prepared for this. Even though it was his hypnosis, it now felt completely out of his control. "What if you didn't?" he eventually ventured.
You will kill Mark Sloan.
"Then I will," Jesse answered, without even a trace of doubt in his voice.
TBC…