Part 6 – They're going in

Captain Jackson arrived, and marched from the car to the tents. "Tripp?" his tone demanded immediate attention. "What have we got?"

Frank turned to face his boss. "Sir, we have one suspect inside the fingerprint lab. Besides Lieutenant Caine, we have Delko, Speedle, Duquesne and Woods inside. Calleigh is sitting on the bomb, which is both motion and remotely controlled."

"So what's the good news?" Jackson asked, rolling his eyes.

"There's none yet, sir," Tripp continued. "Delko has been shot in his arm during the first shooting and the perp has knocked Lieutenant Caine unconscious."

Jackson just stared at him, concern etched on his face.

"But, the bomb squad believes we can jam the frequency of the radio controller, which gives us the opportunity to send in a swat team."

"Sirs," Lou Wogan tried to get their attention, sending them an apologetic look. "Your Lieutenant has regained consciousness. I'm afraid he has a serious head injury, he's really making no sense."

"Can't Caine stay out of trouble for at least a month?" Jackson barked, the worried look in his eyes softening the effect of the sarcasm in his voice.

Tripp sighed. His friend had only been back for three weeks yet, after eight weeks of recovery from his painful encounter with some students from Cabrerra University.

Sergeant Orrick, who'd overheard the conversation, stepped forward, frowning. "What do you mean by he's not making sense? What's he saying?"

Wogan shrugged his shoulders. "First, he asked about the cat. A yellow cat. Then something weird about the moon shouting through a red haze, or something like that. He must have been hit pretty hard if you ask me."

"Or he's trying to tell us something," Orrick's eyes lit up. "Would Lieutenant Caine know we could be listening to what's happening inside?"

Shaking off his concern, Tripp anxiously looked at the bomb squad's technician. "Yes, he would."

Orrick turned to head communications. "Can you get me a script of everything that's been said?"

Wogan nodded and turned to pass on some instructions.

The Sergeant now looked at Tripp and Chief Jackson. "I'm pretty sure your Lieutenant has just told me what type of bomb we're dealing with. I bet he's given more than that, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to concentrate on what exactly he has said and than I'll know what equipment to bring inside. In the meantime, I suggest you get the swat team in position and ready to act."

"One of my CSI's is sitting on that bomb," Chief Jackson asked, while he motioned for Tripp to get it done. His dark eyes glared hard at the young bomb technician. "Are you absolutely sure?"

The dark blonde man nodded confidently. "Pretty sure." With a thankful smile he accepted the sheet of paper handed to him by Lou Wogan. Spreading the paper out on the table, his fingers traced the lines of the conversation that were typed out. "Here. Here, clever," he pointed without explaining. "Frequency range... a blast cap detonation... Perfect. Your man knows what he's doing, sir. I need less than fifteen minutes to set up the ECM that will block the radio control's frequency. Then your swat team can go in to take out the suspect."

"What about the bomb?"

"When the lab is clear, I'll have to go in and dismantle it in place, sir. I'm afraid your female CSI will need to remain right where she is."

"Can you do it?" Jackson needed to know.

Orrick gave a brief nod. "She has a pretty fair chance, sir."

"Get to it, son," Chief Jackson ordered. "Good luck." He turned around and yelled. "Tripp!"

Frank came rushing forward, snapping his phone shut. "The swat team is taking in their position right now, sir," he informed his boss.

"Well done, Frank," Chief Jackson complimented the detective. "Let's do this."

Sergeant Orrick and one of his colleagues had already left to enter the MDPD building to set up the ECM. It was all a matter of waiting now.

"Sir," Wogan called out again, this time with the receiver of the secure phone in his hand.

Both Jackson and Tripp turned around.

Lou indicated at Frank, waving with the receiver. "Dr. Woods on the line for you, sir."

Tripp quickly exchanged looks with the Chief.

'Stall,' mouthed Jackson.

Grabbing the receiver, Frank answered. "Detective Tripp," he announced.

"Frank, this is Alexx," the ME of the department answered.

"Alexx," Frank responded, admiring the coroner for her strength. Her voice didn't falter and if you didn't know any better, you'd think this was just a social conversation.

"Frank, Calleigh is sitting on a bomb. The bomber has threatened to blow it up unless you get him a fully filled van."

"A van?" Tripp asked. "Why a van?"

"I don't know," Alexx responded curtly. "He wants it parked right out front at the entrance. I'll be driving it, and Eric is coming, too."

"All right. Let me see if I get this right. Calleigh is sitting on a bomb?"

"Yes, it is taped underneath her chair," Alexx responded. "And he can set it off with this thing in his hand..."

"What about the shooting, what happened, everybody all right?" Tripp wanted to know, although he already had the facts.

"Eric's got a bullet in his arm... he'll be okay. Look, he's getting impatient. Are you going to get us the van, or not, sugar?"

"Alexx, call me in five minutes or so. I've got to go and discuss this with the Captain, you know that," he tried to reason, knowing she'd understand. Hopefully she could make the perp understand. He really didn't need that much time, the swat team could go in any minute now.

The coroner agreed, and broke off the connection. Tripp turned, facing Chief Jackson. "He wants to get away in a van, and he wants to take Alexx Woods and Eric Delko with him."

"The hell he will," Jackson snapped. Rubbing a hand across his face, he thought it over for a brief second, then decided. "All right. Let's play along and get a van. Make it drive over from there, slowly."

Frank was already onto it.