"Excuse me for not shedding any tears."
Chris, Lex and I glanced across the table at Kevin, startled. Not typical Kevin Blaisdell behavior. This was the guy who could go full shifts in silence, playing to the young and stupid stereotype when in fact he was hyperobservant and dedicated. That's why I'd asked him to join me on the team: he probably knew all the secrets we all thought we'd never let on to. Pleased that he'd graced us with his voice, I just nodded.
"You're forgiven."
"When's Steve coming in?" Chris asked, referring to the seventh and final team member, criminologist and special tactics expert Stephen Claire, about whom I made many Alexis Denisof jokes. I checked my watch. "He was at Division. Give him a few minutes. Until then I'm dividing us up into two squads. Lex will captain our home team, stay on top of data. Kevin, Eric, Chris, you're on. When Steve gets here, the rest of us will case Michelle's apartment."
I looked around the table and saw no dissent, so we headed for the main floor and somewhere to start. Chris hung behind to set up a day of disappearance timeline on a whit board in the room which would be our mission office, Lex went to begin customary tracking procedures, and I walked over to my best friend for a discussion of the more serious kind.
"Here we go again," I said, deadpan.
She chuckled. "Yeah, try not to get us all killed this time."
"Working on it."
"What do you need me to do?"
"You're the recon chick. Do some recon. Track her down. Chris, Eric, Lex, Kevin, their thing is information, finding things out, you know? You, me, Vaughn, we take those pieces and we find her and we bring her back." I paused, glancing up and over at the main doors of CTU; Steve had shown up from Division with a piqued look on his face, and I raised a hand to flag him down. "Anyway, grab your car keys. We're leaving in five minutes."
I crossed the floor to meet Steve midway. I had phoned him on his cell and briefed him already, so there was no explaining necessary. Our residence science guru and firepower coordinator (odd combination, yes, but that's what he'd decided to study in training camp, and he made it work) regarded me with that same cocktail of ambivalence and nervousness. We all hated her, but at the same time we all feared for her, or what might become of her, or because of her. "I'm not holding anyone up am I?" he asked me, and I shook my head. "Just in time. You and I are going over to her place with the CIA guys. The others are going to see if they can find us some leads or something."
He had time to grab his big metal criminology briefcase before he pivoted on his heel and headed for the doors again. Leticia and Vaughn swept in from my right to join the formation. I looked up to Jack's office on the way out and gave him a hand signal that let him know things were happening. I was sure things would get crazy soon enough, and give me another chance – like it or not – to redefine my time.
Former Residence of Michelle Dessler Los Angeles
"Everybody makes things so complex," Steve muttered, easily able to pick the lock on Michelle's door. We could've asked the super, which is what Vaughn had suggested, but the guy who would be the closest thing to MacGyver if MacGyver was crossed with John Doggett just groused and set to work. Finally the lock popped and Steve pushed the door, getting to his feet. I followed him in, knowing we were standing in the middle of the best chance we had. "You guys know what to do," I added needlessly, because they did.
Personally I set off through the living room. A person's living room says a lot about them to the people that have to be in it. You can easily identify our living room in San Marcos: the Coupling DVD that's still on the table is mine, the meticulously labeled and timed videotapes are Leticia's, and the poster from that Jeremy Piven movie Just Write was a mutual choice (she likes the movie, I like Jeremy Piven, and hey, the movie was all right, natch). Meaning the following: I'm not that organized and I have broad horizons, she is meticulously organized and intelligent, and we are slightly liberal. Don't see how I made those jumps? Most people don't, and that's why we have evidence technicians who do.
I knelt down in front of Michelle's coffee table and surveyed the room from that height, hoping to catch something that was in some small corner as things so often get to. "I say we just take a round of photos, sweep the place, and get out," I said to no one in particular. "We waste too much time here and she slips away."
"Too little and we miss something," Vaughn said. I looked over my shoulder, accepting the point. "That's why I'm saying take care of business right the first time." He nodded. "Always my intention."
Leticia yelled for me, and I turned from her handler-boyfriend-whatever he was and ran in the sound of her voice. She was standing next to a discarded metal briefcase, one that I knew well (because we all had one) as belonging to CTU. "What do you think?" she said. "What did she walk out with?"
"God knows," I said, "but that now makes her a flight risk, not just missing. She's just gotten herself into a world of hurt." I grabbed my cell phone and went to make the call.
"Gautreau."
"Chris, it's me. Michelle absconded with … something. One of our briefcases is empty on her bed. I'll try to find out what."
"She stole something? I'll notify Jack to put out a threat classification," he said, following procedure: she wasn't just missing, she was now a threat because she could have anything in her hands. Lex was motioning for the phone, and he handed it over.
"You said she walked off with something?" my partner asked.
"That's right."
"I put tracers in all of that stuff, per new procedure," he said, tapping at keys already, "I should be able to zero in on her location if she hasn't been able to disable it already. But if she's as good a security specialist as she should be, I'm not holding my breath."
I stood there waiting for a few seconds, getting more and more nervous with each one. Leticia kept looking at me, waiting for me to say something.
"Got it. It's been damaged, but she didn't break it."
"Where is she?"
"Heading upstate."
"Get everybody ready and tell Jack. We're following her."
I clapped my phone shut, spun on my heel, and in that moment became because I believed I had.
Counter Terrorist UnitLos Angeles
The place was buzzing with news. Behind me Steve went to grab more stuff from his locker, clapping me on the shoulder and insisting he'd only be a minute. Leticia and Vaughn, dispatched, went to helping Chris and Kevin get their stuff together. Lex waved me over as he grabbed his jacket, insisting that there was something I needed to see. I jogged on over. Lex's got good instincts.
"I was checking Michelle's name against flights, or recent ticket purchases…"
"Good…"
Jack came down the stairs and approached us. He had the keys to a CTU van in his hands and flipped them to Lex, who caught them instantly. "Anything new?"
I shook my head. "We can't tell what she stole. We'll have to ask her ourselves. I'm just looking at this thing Lex wants me to see…"
Lex pointed at the screen. "I found this. Michael Colefield left London last night, heading for LAX. He should be here in a few hours."
I think I went stark white, and I just nodded.
"Is he involved in this?" Jack asked, knowing Michael's name from the London debriefing.
"No, Jack," I said, "he sure as hell isn't. I … we need to go, now."
I couldn't get out of there fast enough. But I couldn't keep running forever.