Chapter 4


Darien stood before the Official's desk and said, "So? We have a deal?"

"You want to go to Las Vegas... find this person who YOU claim stole your quicksilver madness... and get it back? Why on earth for?"

"Granted, sir... I'm the first who would say good riddance, but... according to the news, this guy has already killed one person. Because of me. If anyone else died, I couldn't live with myself. I'm willing to take the madness back and wait for the Keeper to find a way around it."

Eberts said, "Way to take one for the team."

Everyone in the room turned their attention on the hacker and he looked down at the desk, embarrassed.

The Official sighed. "Fine. I'll grant you one week leave and that's IT. You're back here seven days from now."

Darien smiled. "You got it, fat man. We won't let you down."

As Darien turned to leave, Hobbes leaned forward and asked, "I don't suppose the Agency could pop for a coupla bucks to use in the casino... you know, seeing as we'll have to fit in and all." The Official glared at him. "Didn't think so. Wait up, Fawkes!" He jogged out.

As Claire was closing the door, the Official said, "Claire! One moment, please." She returned and stood before him. Eberts opened the drawer and withdrew a small hypo.

"What is that?"

"A tracker. We want you to inject Fawkes with it under the guise of... I don't know. Make something up."

"A tracker? For what?"

Eberts clarified, "To track."

"Shut up, Eberts," The Official grumbled. "We don't want Darien running... just in case he DOESN'T succeed in Vegas. And, after that little incident with Arnaud a few weeks ago..."

"I don't believe you! He didn't HAVE to ask permission, you know. He could have just as easily jumped a plane without a word."

"I understand. Which is why we need the tracker."

Claire grabbed the hypo and said, "You really irritate me sometimes." She turned and stalked from the room.

---

At the airport, Darien thumbed through an issue of Entertainment Weekly. "Wow... these guys are HARSH in their reviews."

Hobbes looked at the cover and said, "Entertainment Weekly... Those guys wouldn't know a 'bargain basement X-Files' if it crawled into their underwear and chewed up their Froot-of-the-Looms."

Claire stood next to the gate that was loading passengers to Vegas. She spotted an unattended bag and sat down next to it, sliding the hypo from her pocket. Glancing around to make sure no one saw her, she injected the handle with the tracker and tossed the hypo in the garbage. She had a wide smile on her face when she rejoined Darien and Hobbes.

---

Eberts looked at the tracking system. "It's working. She injected him."

The Official looked at the screen. "Excellent... excellent... wait. Why is he being loaded into the cargo hold?"

Eberts shrugged. "We did pay for discount tickets..."

---

Gil Grissom looked up at Detective Jim Brass entered the lab. Brass was always a welcome face around here. Up until a few months ago, he had been the head of the CSI, but circumstances had led to him being transferred to Homicide and leaving Gil with the unwanted job of CSI head.

Gil pushed aside the notes he'd been studying for fingerprints. "What's up, Jim?"

Brass sighed. "That hotel murder you guys are investigating? We just got a call from the security for the casino that's attached. They just found a guy they think was murdered around the same time."

"Just now? They JUST found him?"

"His body was crammed into an air vent. Maintenance found him when they went to investigate."

"An air vent? One of those big ones?"

"Semi-big... but it's not pretty, Griss. Whoever did this..."

"We'll catch him, Brass. Believe me."

---

Darien dropped his bags in front of the front desk of the hotel. "Um, I think you have a room reserved for me? Darien Fawkes?"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Fawkes. Room 112." Darien took the key and stepped aside for Claire and Hobbes to get their keys. Before either could say a word, the clerk smiled and said, "Ah, and you must be Mr. and Mrs. Hobbes. You're in Room 113."

Claire's jaw dropped, but Hobbes just snickered. "Thank you, miss. Come along, DEAR." He took Claire's arm and dragged her away from the desk.

While they waited for the elevator to arrive, Claire muttered, "I knew the fat man was cheap but making us share a room... Why not you and Darien?"

Darien chuckled, "Cause this is funnier."

The elevator arrived and they stepped in. The car was only occupied by one other person; a chubby man reading a newspaper. Claire sighed. "I suppose it won't be HORRIBLE. We have slept in the same room before."

Darien raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, it's nothing like that... in Santa Ruego. As I remember, he couldn't sleep for the noise you were producing," she said, poking Darien in the ribs. The elevator dinged and they stepped off, leaving the newspaper man alone.

As the doors closed, AJ Cross look up. Something about those three... something gave him a very bad feeling deep in his gut. He pulled off his glasses, squinting at his reflection in them. He could see that his eyes were still red. Replacing the glasses, he turned the page in the newspaper and continued pretending to read.

The elevator doors opened again and he glanced up. A withered old Chinese man entered the elevator, carrying a walking cane. Cross was prepared to ignore the man, just as he had the three people before, but the old man spoke up. "You are afflicted with a demon."

Cross looked up. "What the hell do you know about it?"

"I can free you. All you must do is destroy the man who is causing this madness in you."

---

Catherine Willows stood next to the stall while Nick snapped pictures of the bloody air vent. She looked at the walls in disgust. "I cannot believe men. How could you possibly spend any amount of time in here?"

"I try not to," Nick said. "Public restrooms are the devil's playground. Germ's playground, at least..."

Catherine sighed. "So. We have anything?"

"Are you kidding? This guy was wedged in here so tight his body was practically turned to mush. I don't see how we're going to get anything."

Warrick entered the bathroom and said, "Just got a call from Sara. She said the fingerprints are back from the vent cover."

Catherine sighed. "Clean?"

"Nope. Covered. They got four perfect prints that match the husband of the first vic."

Nick stood. "He didn't even bother to wipe off his fingerprints? He wants to get caught."

Warrick nodded slowly.

---

Darien and Hobbes entered Gil Grissom's office, badges out. Gil sighed. "What can I do for a couple of federal agents?"

"Tell us about Shannon Cross," Hobbes said. He had gotten the facts during the short flight; Darien was impressed with his partner's ability to retain facts.

"Shannon Cross was the victim of an extremely violent homicide. Right now, her husband has been named as a suspect and Homicide detectives are searching for him." He held his palms up and shrugged. "My part in this case is over."

The door opened and a pretty brunette entered. "We got the fingerprints from the air vent back, Griss." She put the file down on the desk and turned to look at the guests. She looked Darien up and down, then asked, "Who're these guys?"

Grissom picked up the file and began reading it, saying, "Oh, uh... federal agents, Sara Sidle. Sara Sidle, federal agents."

"I'm Darien. Darien Fawkes. This is my partner, Robert Hobbes." He flashed the badge, mostly to impress her.

"Department of Fish and Game?"

"You, uh... you read that quickly?"

She winked and smiled, "I'm a CSI, Mr. Fawkesy. I notice everything."

She walked out, giving him another once-over before leaving. Hobbes smirked and chuckled. "You better watch out, buddy. That one has a thing for ya."

"That wouldn't exactly be a bad thing, you know... did you see her?"

Grissom looked up. "Is there a reason you're still in here? I do have other cases to work on."

Darien apologized and said, "We'll, uh... just go. Thanks for your help, Mr. Grissom."

They were almost to the door when Grissom caught up with them. "Wait!" They turned. "Cross' fingerprints showed up at the scene of another homicide. Want to tag along?"

---

Sara and Grissom led Fawkes and Hobbes into the bathroom of the casino where Warrick and Willows were dusting for prints on the stall doors. Warrick looked up and saw the two strangers. "Who're these two?"

Grissom introduced them all and knelt next to the air vent. "What do we have?"

"Nothing much. Fingerprints all over the vent, fingerprints on the sink... security cameras have him walking through the casino with blood covering his pajamas. He exited wearing what I assume were the clothes this guy died for."

Grissom stood. "No one noticed a blood-covered man walking around?"

Warrick muttered, "Gambling blackout. I'm surprised one guy noticed he had to take a leak."

Catherine explained, "Some chronic gamblers," she tried not to look at Warrick, "have problems with noticing how much time they've spent gambling. People have blacked out when their bladders erupt."

Darien's eyebrows rose. "Whoa..."

Grissom glanced in the federal agent's direction and continued. "Okay. This guy doesn't mind getting caught. I think he WANTS to get caught. Sara, did you get his baggage from his room?"

"Not yet."

"Could you bring it down here? I want to check something out."

She nodded and headed to the door, but Grissom called her back. "Here, take a walkie-talkie."

Sara frowned. "Why?"

"There's a psycho out there... I have a bad feeling about this case."

---

Sara pressed the elevator button for the fourth time, then glanced at the stairwell. Deciding to leave the elevator, she headed for the stairs and opened the door.

On the third floor landing, AJ Cross was standing with a machete, his face covered by a baseball cap pulled low.

He was waiting for her.