A/N Thanks again to everyone for their reviews and messages. -x-

Chapter 17

Let's Go Out With a Bang!

'Chief? What's our next move?' Carl asked. The words echoed round the foyer, amplifying the worry in his voice.

In Ironside's mind, the short response was easy: find Ed, now! But after years of police work, he knew searching a whole building wasn't going to be straightforward. And they had to make sure nothing else went wrong, too. He let out a long, low breath. Facts would help. He needed as much information as he could find.

'Who do we have?' he asked Murray. 'Inside, not on the exits?'

'Us three,' he replied. 'Phil, Jim and George.'

Ironside nodded.

'Murray, double check with your men on the doors, make sure they stay alert. And get those three to their positions. We can't risk missing Brown if they try to leave. Meet back at the desk.'

The Lieutenant gave a brusque nod and left. Reese waited, his expression expectant, but there were lines on tension on his face that no amount of skill could hide.

'Chief?' he asked, looking at him with his eyebrows raised.

'Something about this,' Ironside murmured, shaking his head. 'Each time I think it through I find something else that doesn't make sense.'

He kept coming back to the discrepancies. It would fit together a lot more cleanly if he could believe that Brown had panicked, choked, then run out on them, but his instinct hated that idea. And if Brown hadn't, if he had been trying to follow the plan then… why? There were far too many whys without answers. He looked at Carl.

'See if the clerk recognises the suspect, show him the picture,' the Chief said. 'And check with the manager. I want details of who had access to the staff rooms, lockers, pass keys, and if anything is missing or misplaced.'

He paused, and Carl kept waiting, knowing that the look on his boss' face meant he had more to say.

Think like the suspect, Ironside reminded himself. After taking the stairs, the logical thing to do was go to a room. Assuming the man still wanted what he thought Ed had, they'd need privacy for a trade. True, they could use somewhere off-limits to guests, but he'd have no control over those. Much safer to use an unoccupied room, there were enough of them at this time of year, and he had less chance of being interrupted. It would be easy to lift a room key when the desk was unattended.

'Get the register. Start checking the keys.'

'Chief?'

'Make sure any empty rooms still have their keys at the desk.'

With a weary but determined nod, Carl left.

In spite of the urgency, Ironside himself stayed in the foyer, looking around. From the moment he'd heard that Ed had vanished, his instinct had been urging him to stop, to think it through, to work the details. He sifted through the facts, trying to slot them into place. The logic was sound, but again the feeling of discomfort rose up, barging its way through his thoughts and disrupting his concentration. Why? The word scratched in his mind. Why hadn't Ed signalled to Murray? Why had he delayed? Why had he just upped and walked out? Why had the suspect intercepted him?

Why had their plan failed?

The answer hovered just out of reach. He'd hoped some peace might coax it out of hiding, but all he did was stare at the off-white walls and repeat the same questions over and over. But the fact that he couldn't find the answer made him realise the hard truth: He'd missed something. And the best way to find out what, was to go back to the start, the bar, and work through this one more time.

At the thought, he moved forward, striding across the foyer and pushing through the revolving doors. Carl stood at the desk, grilling the flustered young clerk. As he walked past, Ironside heard the clerk say: 'Hey, man, I'm telling you! There was no one like that. What do you want from me?'

Carl gave an angry huff.

'But Mr Brown? You saw him?' the sergeant asked.

'Shabby suit and some pretty far-out bruises? Hard to miss!'

In less urgent circumstances, Ironside might have smiled. After yesterday, Ed did tend to stand out. He didn't wait to hear the sergeant's response, but kept walking, heading into the bar.

It was much the same as when he'd last see it, busy with the bustle and hum of demanding customers. Ironside went straight to the table where Ed had been waiting, and saw with annoyance that it had been cleared and cleaned. Only the empty ashtray was left. While he approved of the staff's efficiency, the Chief wished that they'd left it as it was. But it couldn't be helped.

Settling himself at the table, Ironside imagined his young friend sitting there, staring out to the night beyond the window. Ed had waited here for hours, probably going over and over the difficult events of the previous few days, his nervousness and fear building all the time. In the circumstances, he'd have been inhuman not feel the pressure. This was a high-stakes operation, all the more so for being Ed's first solo undercover assignment. The man was allowed to be afraid.

It struck Ironside how much trust Ed had put in him. "Live bait" had been the phrase used twice by his colleagues earlier; and for a cop-killer as well. Ed had agreed not just because he felt he had to, but also because he trusted that the Chief knew what he was doing.

A familiar admonishment crept up on him. Had he taken advantage of Brown to bring the suspect in? Had he let his need for justice override his good sense, just like Dennis and Murray had suggested?

No. He didn't believe that. He knew Ed could do this, and he knew his plan had been sound. Now that it had gone wrong, he still trusted that Ed would keep doing his job, and would trust that Ironside would do his. He had to find whatever he'd missed the first time around. As he sat there, Ironside looked out of the window, sifting through the details and the unanswered questions, trying to find a way of linking them together, slowly becoming more dissatisfied with the answers.

After a few minutes of fruitless thinking, the Chief saw movement beside him, but impatiently waved away the waiter that came up to take his order. A small measure of bourbon might feel good at the time, but he needed a clear head. Perhaps he should have some cold tea, assuming Brown hadn't drunk the whole thing.

At the thought, Ironside started to smile, then the amusement vanished. A picture of what he'd seen at this table formed in his mind's eye. An ashtray with no cigarette butts or ash, a napkin, and two empty glasses, one with two fresh cubes of ice in it.

There had been no bottle of "bourbon".

Murray hadn't said anything about the tea, except to insist that that was all he'd let Ed drink. The bottle hadn't been on the table when they'd been there earlier, he was positive. Brown could have finished it, but the Chief knew from personal experience how hard it was to drink large volumes of cold tea, even if you liked the stuff. It could have been moved earlier, but Murray would probably have mentioned that.

Ironside frowned. Ed must have taken it with him.

It was an unexpected reaction to the situation, and Ironside was always suspicious of "unexpected". Brown had just been confronted by the suspect, and believed the plan has gone wrong, so he tips the ten dollars, drinks the bourbon and… leaves with the bottle of tea?

That didn't sound right. That didn't sound right at all.

Abruptly, Ironside stood, pushing the chair back, walking as briskly as he could through to the entrance. Murray and Carl were standing side by side at the desk, talking in low voices, hard at work looking through the register, while the clerk hovered nervously on the other side. They all looked towards the Chief as he approached, acknowledging him. Carl opened his mouth to say something, but Ironside looked at Murray and spoke first.

'Did Ed like the tea?' he asked gruffly.

There was a moment of silent confusion. Ironside scowled as Murray shrugged in response.

'I don't und-'

'You gave him a bottle of tea,' Ironside said, his temper starting to fray at the need to explain everything. 'Did he like it? Did he finish it?'

At the question, Murray shot a lightning-fast, wary glance to Carl, who was looking bemused.

'No,' Murray replied, 'to both questions. Why?'

'The bottle's not at the table.'

'If the waiter's cle-'

'It wasn't when I first arrived.'

A flicker of surprise passed over Murray's face.

'You think Brown took it with him?' he asked. Ironside nodded, pleased that the lieutenant was starting to catch on. 'He didn't like tea that much, Chief.'

Beside him, Carl was shaking his head.

'So why would he do that?' he asked.

'Exactly,' Murray said, beating the Chief to reply by a fraction of a second.

Ironside nodded.

'He should have left it at the table. He didn't.'

'Maybe he felt he had to take it with him?' Murray suggested.

Ironside nodded again, more slowly. Carl looked between the two men.

'Okay, so why would he have to take it?' he asked.

The Chief didn't reply at once, struggling to find an answer that was better than "I don't know". Taking it, just because, seemed odd and out of character for Ed.

'Because of the suspect?' he suggested to his officers.

'Why would the man care about tea?' Carl said.

Again, there was a prickly, disconcerting feeling that facts didn't fit together. A bottle of fake booze was a liability in these circumstances. If Ed was going to trade, he would be an utter fool to take it with him to the meet.

But he wasn't going to trade, Ironside reminded himself. Ed was leaving. And he took the tea with him. The Chief huffed.

'Our suspect wouldn't care,' said Ironside. 'Not unless he tasted it-'

He was about to add something else, but stopped with his mouth half-open. He almost had it, he could feel the answer pressing against the inside of his head. There was a tense, brittle silence as if they were all holding their breath.

'Ed took the bottle, to make sure the suspect didn't find it,' he said slowly. 'Why would Ed think he'd find it?'

The other two men both shrugged, shaking their head. It sounded like a frivolous question, Ed had no reason to think the suspect would care what he was drinking.

'It might help if someone had seen them talk,' Carl said with a sigh. Realising what he was implying, he gave an embarrassed glance to Murray, who nodded, resigned.

'I've thought that myself, Sergeant,' he said. 'If only I'd seen what happened.'

The Chief frowned, annoyed that they were wallowing, and not being more help in finding the answer.

'Too bad you were busy with t-'

Ironside froze, his sentence unfinished. He'd meant the statement to have an ironic edge, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth he felt something shift. The sensation that passed through him was the same disorientating, nauseous feeling that happened when a car suddenly slammed on the brakes. The other two men stared at him.

'Chief?' Murray asked. 'What is it?'

One fact, that he'd taken for granted, could be wrong.

"It got busy, and Jim was changing the barrel". Murray had told him that, it was almost the first detail he'd mentioned. At the time, Ironside had assumed that it was bad luck on their part, and the suspect had had a break when he'd slipped past.

But what if that wasn't what had happened? What if there was no lucky chance, and he'd waited to exploit a gap deliberately?

Which meant… He knew there were cops in the hotel.

'He knew,' Ironside breathed, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two officers. 'You said it got busy, you were taking orders, Jim was changing the barrel.'

Murray's face fell, his eyes going wide. He tried to say something but no sound came out.

'Chief?' Carl asked. 'That would mean-?'

'Exactly,' Ironside replied. 'The suspect knew we were here.'

There was another moment of silence. Then Murray growled.

'No!' he said, almost snarling out the word. 'No! No! None of my officers would have leaked this. They wouldn't have. And they couldn't have. None of them did this. I'd stake my life on it!'

'We staked Ed's life on it,' Ironside added coldly.

Murray recoiled at the comment, silently fuming at the suggestion any of his men might be dirty. Ironside liked the suggestion even less than Murray did, as it meant that corruption had spread everywhere through his department. He tried to match this new idea with the information they already had, and it still didn't fit as cleanly as it should. As the facts and questions spiralled in on him, one idea in particular attracted his attention, a different way to link it all together. He drew a slow breath.

'But there is an alternative to corruption,' the Chief said, trying to sound calm, even though Murray was glaring red hot daggers at him.

'Which is?' Carl asked.

'The suspect made us. He made us as cops and he figured we were here tailing Brown.'

Think like the suspect, that's what he needed to do. The man was calculating as well as ruthless. Maybe they'd underestimated him.

'Let's assume that he is wary as well as smart,' Ironside said. 'He follows Ed here and understands the message, that Brown wants to trade. But he doesn't just follow blindly.'

As the Chief spoke, he started to feel sick. His plan, the one he had been so confident in, had had a flaw he'd not recognised: that the suspect himself would be smart enough, and suspicious enough, to hold back. The other why's came back to mind, and suddenly it all come together in a flash of insight, all the little details supporting the hypothesis rather than undermining it. He was starting to gain traction now, he understood more about what had happened. As explanations went, it fitted better than anything else.

'The suspect followed Ed but cased the hotel before making contact. He spotted something that tipped him off.'

In reality, it could have been anything, the Chief knew that. A glance the wrong way, an ill-considered word. The officers were all professionals, but no one was perfect.

'Or he might have expected a trap of some sort,' Murray said. 'It's not outside the realm of possibility.'

Ironside gave a half-hearted nod. It didn't matter, either way they got the same outcome. They'd been outmanoeuvred, and that had left Ed a sitting target. He frowned at the thought, suddenly struck by something else.

'Only a fool would spring the trap if he'd known Brown was in on it too,' he said.

Carl and Murray glanced at each other.

'You think he didn't know Ed is part of it?'

Hearing the idea voiced bolstered his suspicion. That had to be right. He must have figured Ed was unaware of the tail.

'He'd never have approached an undercover cop, not with all the other cops around. He might be desperate, but the man isn't stupid. Brazen, yes. Stupid, no!'

That was exactly how he thought the suspect would act. The man was audacious, confident, clever, as well as utterly ruthless. If he confronted Brown, intimidated him, pushed him into having to react, then he'd be at an advantage. Dropping the fact that the hotel was full of cops would have done that perfectly. The fact that the suspect knew there were cops would have come as a very nasty shock to Brown.

'How could he be sure Ed wouldn't panic, try and get help?' Carl asked.

Ironside shrugged.

'How would you do it?'

There was a pause.

'I'd threaten him,' Carl said simply. 'I'd be armed, and there's a room full of people I could shoot if I needed to.'

The Chief gave a grim nod, remembering what it felt like to have the lives of innocent strangers in his hands. He shuddered, feeling an uncomfortable fury with himself and his overconfidence building inside, more so than at any time in the previous few days since this fiasco began. But the anger was quickly overwhelmed by a profound sense of sadness. It was all so simple when you looked at it the right way. He shook his head.

'Damn,' he whispered, too low for the others to hear. They had some of the answers, but they were still missing one officer. He looked up at Murray and Carl. 'Ed is with him, right now.'

'But where?' Reese asked, the worry all the more clear this time. 'And where do we start?'

Ironside looked around at what was in front of him, the desk, the keys on the wall behind, the register on the counter. Then he turned and his gaze came to rest once more on the pair of revolving doors that lead out to the foyer.

Think like the suspect, he reminded himself. What would he do to make sure the cops didn't follow them? He looked back to the desk and frowned. If the suspect knew cops were here, then he'd make sure there wasn't a straightforward trail to follow.

But they had one other advantage that would give them the edge. Ed trusted Ironside to follow.

'Brown would have found a way to help us,' he said.

It would be simple to let it all go.

What had he done?

Ed stood, gun resting against his chest. Adrenaline and instinct had fused with logic and reason, but there was still part of his mind that was speechless with shock at what he'd just done and exactly why he'd just done it.

He'd walked up to their suspect and dared him to fire.

But at that moment he meant every word, even if he was unsure of his motives. He didn't fear death anymore. He was at the end and this could be when it all stopped. If the man pulled the trigger none of this would be his problem.

As he waited, Ed felt an unexpected yearning to be free of all the hurt, the struggle and the heartbreak. If he died helping to catch this suspect, then what did that really matter? The Chief might be sad for a while, and Reese as well, but they hardly knew him. His remaining family was the same. Anne had gone. His friends had turned on him. Who was there left to care?

On the stairs, he had been fully focused on forming a plan and letting the Chief know where he was, and dying wasn't going to help with that. It was different now. Alone with their suspect, he either convinced him to "trade", or he was dead. There was no middle ground and he'd gone as far as he could. And maybe he was dead either way.

Fire or not fire. Live or die. He'd made his choice and played his cards. The outcome wasn't in his hands anymore.

That knowledge should have terrified him, but instead he felt a numb resignation. He missed Anne. He missed the future that they'd planned, the honeymoon at Niagara Falls, the three kids, the smart town house with the view of the Bay; their lives as husband and wife, with everything to look forward to. He didn't want to be the only one who remembered those dreams anymore. He didn't know if he still believed in an "afterwards", not since she'd died, but a small part wanted to hope that she would be there waiting, and that she missed him as much as he missed her.

The two men kept staring at each other. The room was the whole world, and Ed was aware of the details as they stood there, the pale walls, the cheap pictures, the furniture and, directly behind the man, the closed door. There was no way out and Ed kept waiting for the end.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Thinking about it later, he guessed they'd stood like that for a few seconds, but at the time it felt like forever. Eventually, the man took a small step back, lowering the gun.

'Okay, sonny,' the man said in a hushed tone. 'You can consider my bluff called.'

Ed couldn't help the flood of overwhelming emotion that surged through him, not able to identify what he was feeling. Relief, possibly. Disappointment, possibly. Shock and surprise, most definitely. The gun had gone but Ed still felt frozen in the moment, a heartbeat from death, pulled in too many conflicting directions and unable to move.

'Well, you've got guts, if nothing else,' the man said with a sneer.

It was the mocking tone that jolted Ed painfully back to the present. He was still here, still breathing and still alive, and with a job to do. He had to keep pushing, Ironside would…

He almost started at the thought of what the Chief was going to say when he found out what had just happened. The look of disappointment on his face would be so much worse than before, and then he'd flip out so far he might make it to a different planet. Words like "irresponsible", "reckless" and "idiotic" would be used, and other, much less complimentary ones as well. And when Ironside had calmed down, he'd make sure Ed was chained to a desk in Records for the rest of his career.

The thought came as a surprise, that he could be wondering what would happen next, rather than hoping a bullet would make everything suddenly turn black. Because he wanted to find out what would happen next, to see the Chief's reaction to his "reckless and irresponsible" plan, even if it was to watch his promising career go up in flames.

And to do that, he had to stay alive.

Ed realised the man was staring at him. He'd stopped looking furtively around and had an unreadable but unpleasant expression on his face. Ed swallowed, unsure of his next move.

'You've called it,' the man said, his eyes narrowing. 'So, what is it that you want?'

What else could he say?

'Money!'

That got a soft snort of laughter in response. The man shook his head.

'I don't carry hundreds of thousands of dollars on the off-chance I'll meet a greedy cop,' he said, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

'I don't care,' Ed responded quickly. 'I have thirty two dollars and a suitcase of broken memories. And that's all. I've got to get out and I'll take whatever you have on you.'

His voice grew more shaky as he spoke and Ed knew he was starting to sound desperate himself. He was in danger of letting this slip away. He had to try and keep it cool, and at least pretend he knew what he was doing.

The man looked at him, Ed couldn't decide if he believed what he'd heard or not, his expression was impossible to interpret.

'But what if I don't agree,' the man said.

'Then you're going to have a problem.' Ed took a slow breath, waiting, hoping he'd done enough.

'Going to have a problem?' the man said with a sardonic laugh. 'Is that an attempt at a joke?'

Ed didn't respond. But it was a curious thing to say, and Ed was desperate to ask, but he knew that prying too much would look suspicious. Maybe he'd get another chance later. There was a short silence.

'So, you've stashed it?' the man said at last. 'And I suppose if you don't show up for it, then that's the end?'

Ed nodded, not wanting to have to go into details. The less he said the better.

'That's quite clever.' Somehow, the man still managed to make the statement sound like an insult.

'I'm not as stupid as I look,' Ed snapped.

The man gave a rude snort.

'That's not something to boast about,' he replied with a sneer, and Ed smothered the desire to respond to the insult. Getting goaded into an argument wasn't the right move. The man leered at him. 'You're smarter than your buddy was.'

In spite of knowing what the man was trying to do, the words seared like a flash fire through Ed's chest.

'Leo,' he breathed, feeling the guilt and regret surface again, reliving the moment he'd found the body. Maybe the Chief had been right, that Leo's fate was always out of his hands. But regardless of what had happened, this was another death he would never be able to forget.

The man gave him a twisted smile.

'If your buddy had been less greedy and selfish we would not be in this position,' he said. 'But sometimes you can never tell about people.'

Wasn't that the truth, Ed thought bitterly. But the words intrigued him.

'What did he tell you?' he asked. 'What did he say? How did you-'

Unsure he stopped, pursing his lips, wanting to keep being vague but desperate to find out what had gone down between the two men.

'How did I… what?' the suspect grinned more widely. 'Surely you can figure it out?'

Playing dumb was a good way to disarm a suspect, as was asking open, leading questions while sounding confused. He'd seen the Chief do it before, to great effect. So Ed buried his pride.

'How did you know it was me?' he asked in a hushed voice. 'Did Leo…?'

The man shook his head impatiently, but there was a hint of smug smile on his face.

'I saw you fight about it at the back of the hotel,' he said. 'I was watching you the whole time. It wasn't hard to figure it out.'

Ed gave an involuntary shiver. He'd been watched, spied on, during the whole terrible argument.

'And as soon as you scurried off, tail between your legs, I made my move.'

The image of that morning came back to Ed, the feelings all bundled up with the vicious fight he'd had with his so-called friend. So far, Ed had managed to keep the memories pushed to the back of his mind, but now phrases and expressions popped up at random, trying to drag his attention back to the past. He had to look away, knowing his life depended on keeping himself in check but struggling to control his emotions. He was sure the other man gave another soft laugh.

With a concerted effort to keep calm, Ed looked back at the suspect, hoping his face didn't show how upset he was.

'And what was your move?' he asked. 'A bargain?' The man nodded, with a knowing smirk. 'What sort of bargain?'

The man barked an ugly laugh.

'I don't think it was the same bargain as you and he had thought up earlier,' he said, still chuckling. 'No, I think it was a very different bargain to that one! He had no intention of sticking to what he'd agreed with you. He wasn't gonna share!'

Ed clamped his mouth tightly shut, and said nothing. For a few moments he didn't trust himself to speak. The man kept laughing.

'What was your bargain?' Ed asked, having to squeeze the words out.

'Money, obviously. A lot of money. We didn't have long conversation, we didn't need to. Very businesslike. He said there was a reward and he wanted double that.'

'But you killed him instead,' retorted Ed, unable to stop himself.

A flash of something undefinable and unexpected passed over the suspect's face when Ed spoke. Then he smiled the same twisted smile, more widely than before.

'Good job you don't have to prove that,' he said, still sneering. 'Because you would find it an impossible task.'

'Because you're so good at hiding evidence?' replied Ed.

The twisted smile turned into a sneering scowl.

'And you would know all about that, wouldn't you?'

The venomous tone of that statement took Ed by surprise, almost as much as the words themselves, but he had no time to react as the man leaned forward, suddenly lifting his gun. The sneering look was gone, replaced but a dispassionate indifference. Ed's breath caught at the back of his throat.

'You know, there is one other way to persuade you,' the man said, giving Ed as hard stare. 'Maybe I don't have to shoot you, maybe I just have to make things a little awkward for you. For a while.'

Ed could feel himself shaking, but hoped the man hadn't noticed, while being certain that he had. He didn't trust himself to speak, all the air had been squeezed out of his lungs.

'A quick, neat execution is very different from a slow, messy death. And I could do either.'

That was the truth, the man might not have wanted to do it but he would, to get what he wanted. Ed took an involuntary step back before he could stop himself. The man watched him intently, the weight of his gaze making it hard to keep his cool.

'I want our calling card,' the suspect said with a menacing hiss. 'And I will do what I have to do to get it.'

Ed swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep going and try to push as far as he could. Somehow he managed to respond.

'But wouldn't it be easier to pay me?'

There was a snort, setting Ed's teeth on edge.

'A few hundred dollars? You're serious?'

Ed nodded, but the man looked at him in shocked disbelief, utterly confused.

'To the right people that calling card could be worth a million,' he said after a pause. 'You have gold, and you want me to think you'll take a few hundred dollars for it?'

Gold? Whatever the calling card was, it was worth millions? He'd not expected anything like that. With no way to back-track without giving himself away, Ed nodded again.

'Yes,' he said.

'I think you're lying!'

'I don't care what you think I want,' Ed hissed, fear taking over, his voice rising in volume as he spoke. 'I have got to get out, and if that means taking what I can, right now, then that's what I'm going to do!'

Ed stood still, breathing hard, surprised at himself and the conviction with which he'd spoken. The man regarded him with a curious expression.

'I think you mean that,' he said. 'I had you down as just one more dumb, greedy cop. But you're not like that at all, are you?'

Ed sensed his advantage slip and he realised he might have given too much away. He had to do better, and keep his cool. He took a slow breath, trying to relax as much as he could.

'I don't care what you think I want,' he repeated more calmly. 'I have to get out.'

The man gave one more derisive snort, and shook his head.

As he did, Ed noticed a tiny movement out of the corner of his eye, on the floor of the room. It took him a moment to realise that it was a shadow of someone walking past in the corridor outside. With an unpleasant jolt he remembered the Chief. He'd gotten so caught up in his part, he'd lost track of time. Ironside could be outside right now.

He tensed, ready to react, but something must have shown on his face as the man gave a bitter, savage snarl. A moment after that there was a low scuffing noise, immediately followed by a thunderous crash as the door flew open.

At the first hint of a noise, fuelled by instinct and anticipation, Ed sprang forward, aiming to catch the wrist of the man's gun-hand and force it upwards.

Just as he did, there was the first of three loud bangs.