Chapter 8 – Whose side are you on?

Disclaimer – If I owned CSI, this stuff would be on a TV screen, not a computer screen. But I don't mind. I also don't own the Bellagio. (Also, if there is someone out there named Clarice Robertson, then I apologise in advance for a very unflattering diatribe later on, which isn't meant to relate to any real person.)

Notes – Set during 'King Baby'. Spoilers and dialogue ahoy! (Dialogue in Italic.)

Greg caught up with Grissom and Ecklie in the crime lab's main corridor. He swallowed. He was ready. After over a month, he was finally ready. But it was still going to be tricky. He just prayed everyone would stay the hell out of his way.

What were they talking about, Greg wondered. He strained his ears to catch some of Grissom's speech. Something about someone named Dorothy...the Wizard of Oz...and nude pictures? What!

Shaking his head in disgust, Greg joined the conversation. He spoke directly to Ecklie for once, telling him about Sy Magli's late night phone calls from Bruce Eiger's home. Grissom put forward his 'Hate mutated into Passion' theory. Greg privately doubted this, as he'd once had to practically pull Sy Magli out of the Bellagio's restaurant just to get his groping hands away from an unfortunate cocktail waitress.

Still, Greg supposed, stranger things had happened. Naturally, Sy had been bombed out of his skull, and wouldn't have recognised his own mother if he'd tripped over her (not that he ever could recognise his own mother, of course), so Greg agreed to go with Brass and handle the interview, knowing that Sy wouldn't remember him.

But not before receiving what he had come to receive...

On the way to Brass' Taurus, he discreetly unfolded the small scrap of paper in his hand and read what was on it:

'02653 459 780'

And on the back: 'Call as soon as it's yours.'

Greg clenched his fists in triumph. Yes! He was in! Now came the trickier part...

Trickier part, Greg reflected several hours later, was an understatement. He had searched high, low, in-between, hell, he had looked everywhere for the damn thing and he still couldn't find it.

He growled in frustration. This wasn't good. He knew from his final proficiency tests (and the fact that he'd had more than one!) that he would never be as good a CSI as, say, Nick, or Sara, and certainly not the unmatched calibre of Catherine or Grissom,

but he'd figured that he was at least good enough to do this! If he wasn't, then maybe he didn't deserve to be outside the lab...

Stop doing this, Greg told himself. You're a CSI, you've proved you're a CSI, and you will find it. Not because you're good enough, but because of what balances on it...

He went over and over the possible hiding places in his head. The hallway, the gardens, the office, the bedroom. He had searched every square inch, and nothing! Sighing, he picked up the phone and dialled.

The person on the other end picked up: "Have you got it?"

Greg took a deep breath. "Not yet. Look, you knew him better than I did. Where would he hide something like this?"

"If I knew, I would tell you." The voice on the other end sounded pissed off. "The whole point was that no-one knew squat about him."

Greg tried again: "Look, I need..."

"I don't give a tin shit what you need. Find it! Now!"

The owner of the voice hung up. Greg flipped his cell phone closed. "Always a pleasure" he snarled at it.

Greg knew he wasn't going to find anything just by going over the same places with tired eyes. He needed to know if there was anything the others had found out about the guy that might help.

Leaving by the same secret passage he had come in by, Greg vacated Bruce Eiger's mansion and headed back to the crime lab...

It turned out that Greg's return was well timed for two reasons. The first became immediately apparent after taking a look at the news headlines. They included close-up photos of what should have been a closed crime scene! Apparently Greg wasn't the only one who knew about secret entrances and exits...

Catherine, looking tired and angry, had confirmed in front of both Greg and Ecklie that the shots were hers. Greg wasn't worried. He knew what to expect.

And he wasn't disappointed. "I'll have our public information officer contact his counterpart at the station. We'll also call Judge Anderson and get a warrant for the memory card, any copies, and the name of their source."

Greg absorbed this declaration with a small, knowing smile on his face, while Catherine looked as if someone had told her the universe was ruled by purple monkeys. Oh, that must have hurt, thought Greg maliciously. Having to cover for Catherine the one time she slipped up, and missing a golden opportunity to fire or suspend her.

Meanwhile, all Catherine could think of to say was: "Thank you, Conrad."

Ecklie turned around. "It's my job."

Greg stopped smiling. When Ecklie had said that, he'd sounded sincere! Greg couldn't help wondering if Ecklie actually thought that he had an ally in Catherine...

Greg, keeping his face relatively impassive, left the room to ask his fellow CSI's if there was anything particular he should know about Bruce Eiger.

An hour later, he had his answer.

Greg was more weirded out by this whole thing than he cared to admit. Why in the name of all that was good and holy would ANYONE, never mind a casino owner who had an eight-digit bank account, would want to run around their mansion dressed like Baby Huey, getting water-bottle enemas and soiling himself?

On the upside, it certainly gave Greg a few extra places to search back at the old place. He was on his way back to the mansion to check the playpen when he found out the second reason his arrival back at the lab was well timed.

Sara and Nick were taking apart a big old toy box with pictures of ducks and fishes on it in the evidence room. Just as Greg walked by, they pulled the side open.

And there it was!

Greg ducked back to the doorframe as Nick and Sara examined their find, listing Sam Braun and Sheriff Rory Atwater among those with dirt on them.

"Oh, no..." Greg whispered under his breath. He HAD to get to that box! No matter what it took, he just had to!

Not feeling at all good about what he was about to do, Greg retreated to an empty lab and dialled up Sara on his cell phone...

"Well, apparently Sy liked the whole spectrum..." Nick began, then Sara's mobile went off.

She picked up. "Sara Sidle, Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"Sara? Grissom's looking for you. Says he has something important to tell you."

"Did he say what?"

"No, just that it couldn't wait."

Sara grimaced. Typical Grissom. "Okay, thanks." She hung up and turned to Nick. "I've gotta go. Let me know what you find."

Nick nodded and she left. Rubbing his hands together in greedy anticipation, he turned back towards the box. Then Greg poked his head in the doorway.

"Hey, Nick, there's somebody called Clarice here to see you. Does that mean anything to you?"

Nick's eyes widened. "Oh, hell, not again! Does she know I'm here?"

"I guess. Anyway, she's on her way up." And with that, Greg made his exit.

Clarice Robertson had been, by far and away, THE worst date of Nicholas Stokes' entire life! The evening had begun with her saying a short prayer to the Dark Lord of Kirash before eating and had gone downhill from there, ending with her promising on the blood of her forebears that they would be wedded under Saturn. Nick had vowed never to try Internet dating ever again in his life. So far she had wrecked a potential date and called him at work five times on the same day. Greg had been fortunate enough to pick up on the fifth time, and so had found out everything.

Nick ran from the evidence room to hide out in the trace lab. As soon as he was gone, Greg made his move. He made a beeline for the toy box, completely ignoring the files. He knew the depths of Eiger's paranoia enough to know that these would be a last, desperate decoy. He slid open one of the side panels inside the smaller pockets that held the files.

And a small floppy disk fell into hi outstretched palm. He had it!

It wasn't until he was safely inside an empty locker room that he allowed himself the luxury of celebration. He fell back on the nearest locker with a long-held sigh of relief, and let a wide, satisfied grin trickle onto his features. Securing the disk inside a zip pocket on his jeans, he headed to the AV lab where Warrick was waiting.

The case was over. Grissom, Catherine and Brass were dining at the Sphere hotel's restaurant, Nick, Warrick and Sara were heading out for a three-course meal at Tut's Tomb, and Greg was in the AV lab, examining his prize.

He picked up his phone and dialled the number on the scrap of paper.

"It's me. I've got it." Greg spoke into the phone with deliberate calm. "When can we meet?"

"Tomorrow night. Oh, and Sanders?"

"Yeah?"

"Nice work."

"Thank you." This was it...

"Before you hang up, there is someone else's name on this disk that I think you might want a look at."

Ecklie was intrigued. "Who?"

"Gil Grissom."