Disclaimer is chapter 1
A huge, huge thank you to my beta anmodo, especially for her speedy replies. Another thank you to everyone who has reviewed.
Chapter 4An apartment, Bronx
Wednesday 1700 – 66 hours missing
Although Abby had described the crime scene, Rick wasn't quite prepared for what he was met with. There wasn't an inch of the small apartment that hadn't been disrupted in some form by either traces of blood or destruction. In the middle of all of this lay the body of Raphi Alvarez. In Rick's opinion, there was too much blood here for one person, so he voiced this opinion to Abby.
"I was thinking that. Preliminary reports say it's the same blood group as Alvarez's," Abby told Rick. Then she looked at Rick, "And we won't know if its Taylor's for a couple of hours."
"Damn-it," exclaimed Rick as he punched the wall. This did not look good for Taylor. Taylor was either dead, a murder suspect or both.
"Rick, calm down, we don't know anything yet," Abby replied as she tried to calm Rick down.
"I am sorry Abby, but Taylor is a good kid. And you're not the one that will have to tell Jack." Rick replied. He had wanted Taylor on his team, but Jack had got to Danny before he had.
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A warehouse somewhere in New York State
Thursday 0700 – 80 hours missing
Dropshot walked across the abandoned warehouse towards his biochemist Dr. Ambrose. The doctor had promised him with the right equipment and time he could mutate the virus.
"Doctor, how is it progressing?" Dropshot asked.
"I don't know why you want the virus mutated to resist any form of drug; it already does." Dr. Ambrose replied, instantly regretting it. Dropshot surely was going to lose it now.
Dropshot pulled out his Desert Eagle and placed it at Dr. Ambrose's temple. "If I had wanted for your opinion, I would've asked, but I didn't--so how is it progressing?"
Doctor Ambrose shuddered under Dropshot's glare. "W-well, I have nearly finished mutating the virus in two forms. Firstly as requested, one is totally resistant to any form of drug there is. Secondly, which may I say I am most proud of, I have mutated the virus so the symptoms show in 6-12 hours after exposure compared to 2-21 days with the standard virus." Doctor Ambrose smiled. This surely would impress Dropshot. "I thought you might need this to help along your 'chats'"
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FBI NY HQ
Thursday 1100 – 84 hours missing
Rick, paced up down his office, he had just got back the lab results on the blood in the apartment. There were two 'specimens'. One came back with a 100 percentmatch to Raphi Alvarez, and other specimen was only a 50 percent match. Than meant only one thing--the other donor was a close relation to Alvarez, which now led Rick to this situation. Rick took a deep breath and walked toward the door. If it was one of his team, he would want to know straight away. Somehow he found himself outside Jack's office and knocked on the door.
"Come in," responded a tired and strained voice.
"Jack, I have some news regarding Danny," Rick said. He couldn't bring himself to address Danny by his surname; it was just too impersonal.
Jack looked up and tried to prepare himself for the impending news. He could tell it was bad from Rick's body language; he just didn't know how bad.
Rick took a deep breath. "NYPD homicide contacted us regarding a case. They found a body in an apartment in the Bronx." Rick paused before he continued. "They found Raphael Alvarez, Danny's brother."
"There's more isn't there?" asked Jack.
Rick looked at Jack; he didn't know how he was going to tell him about the next part of their discovery. "Apart from Alvarez's blood, there was another specimen. And with amount of blood found…it doesn't look good, Jack. I'm really sorry."
"Danny's?" Jack asked. "How much?"
"Yeah. There was about 3 pints…close to a third of his blood."
Jack sighed. This was really bad. He knew if you lost over a third of your blood, it usually proved fatal. Jack looked at Rick again. He was holding back on something, something worse than what he'd already been told. "What else, Rick?"
Rick paused. This was going to be hard. "We found two sets of fingerprints at the scene: one was Alvarez's, the other was Danny's."
"You think Danny did it?"
"What? No! Jack, damn-it, no. Jack, we are talking about the guy who I trusted with my kids. He may have not got on with his brother, but murder! No way. If you hadn't got to him first, I would offered him a place on my team." Rick looked out of the window. "I have been ordered to close the case and hand it over to NYPD."
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Undisclosed location
Thursday 1200 – 85 hours missing
Molotov looked in on Taylor for the second time in an hour; he should have really stopped Dropshot after 2 pints of blood. But it needed to be done to get the feds off his tail. As Danny stirred, Molotov stood there and looked on. Molotov took a deep breath and thought how tough the guy was and how hard it had become to break him. He dreaded having to ask Dropshot for more time. He had prided himself on breaking people in less than 3 days, but after Dropshot's method that would not be possible. Their captive was still too weak from the blood-letting He would start working again on Taylor tomorrow.
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FBI HQ NY
Thursday 1300 – 86 hours missing
Jack sat in his office. He was still reeling from the information that Rick had given him a couple of hours ago. Danny was either dead or in critical condition and a wanted man. Rick had been ordered to close the case and turn it over to NYPD. But Rick had claimed something about the collection of the relevant information, so maybe if Danny were still alive he would have a chance to continue to work at the FBI. It suddenly occurred to Jack that he had been sitting in his office for a little over 2 hours and hadn't told the team about the latest development on the case. With a heavy heart, he picked up the phone—believing it was his duty to tell them in private.
When the remaining members of his team were assembled in his office, Jack began to tell them that they had probably lost a friend. After he had finished telling them this terrible news, he looked at his team. They looked devastated.
"Danny's dead?" asked Sam as she sat down feeling that her legs wouldn't support her any longer.
"That's what the evidence points to," replied Jack.
"They surely don't think Danny murdered his brother?" asked Vivian.
"Rick doesn't. So he's stalling the information, but I don't know how much longer he can stall it."
Sam stood. "I'll talk to Eric Kellar," she said referring to her ex-boyfriend, the NYPD homicide detective.
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Undisclosed location
Friday 1100 – 108 hours missing
Danny slowly opened his eyes. For the first time in days, he found he could sit up successfully. His body no longer felt like a ton of bricks. His skin no longer itched. It was no longer a great effort to breathe, but considering all of this he still felt like crap. Leaning against the wall, he looked around. This was still his 'escape' cell. If he didn't escape soon, Danny believed he would never escape. Before he could locate the piece of glass one of the goons entered his cell and dragged him into the 'torture' cell.
"You are finally awake, 53459."
Danny looked to his left and was relieved to see Molotov, not the psycho animal Dropshot. But chose not to answer Molotov. He was still too tired to deal with this right now and hoped this session would be over as soon as possible.
Molotov smiled. He believed he was about to break Taylor and this latest piece of information surely would. "53459, your brother is dead, and everyone thinks you are the murderer." Molotov's smile grew as he watched the battered agent's shoulder slump in defeat. "Even if you survive this, no one is going to want you. Do you know what they do to feds and traitors in jail?"
Before Danny, had a chance to response, the physical abuse began. But Danny didn't care. He now had no one. What was the point of living? He was so numb he didn't feel the abuse that was being rained down on his body. Before he knew it, his bloody and battered body was being dragged back to his cell. Once left alone he drew his legs up to his chest and started to sob. Images of the happier times of his childhood with Raphi flashed before his eyes. Then he thought of how Raphi had protected him from the abuse and how he'd abandoned Raphi. He deserved this. He didn't deserve to be loved. He didn't deserve to be happy. He deserved nothing but this torture.
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Queens - Sam's apartment
Sunday 2300 – 168 hours missing
Sam held a glass of wine in her hand as she looked out the window. It was one week to the hour that Danny had gone missing. Rick had eventually turned the information over to NYPD, but not before he was ordered to by the Deputy Director of the FBI, Martin's father. Martin hadn't spoken to his father since. Sam had spoken to Eric about the case and even though Eric believed that it wasn't in Danny's character to murder his brother, he had to go on the evidence. She looked up at the stars and remembered what Danny had once told her. Smiling, she looked up at the North Star--the brightest of them all. "Danny wherever you are, I'm missing you and so is Martin, Viv, Jack and lots of other people at the office. I hope you are ok. Please come back to me." A single tear ran down her cheek.
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Undisclosed location
Wednesday 1400 – 232 hours missing
Danny sat in the corner on his cell, scraping away at the cement. Now it wasn't about escaping but to take his mind off the torture, his brother's murder, and being a murder suspect. He couldn't bring himself to kill himself. No…that would just be concrete evidence that he was as weak, as they said he was. When he had joined the FBI, especially missing persons, he started to believe that there were things in life worth being happy about. For the first time in his life, he felt wanted and it pained him to think that these people didn't want him anymore. He hadn't noticed that these thoughts had driven him to dig the glass deeper into the wall; he didn't notice the glass dig into his hand; he didn't notice the blood beginning to seep out of his hand and mix into the cement dust. If anyone ever asked him—not that they would—about his days in hell, he couldn't tell them. He was too numb. He didn't even care when Dropshot tortured him. To be honest, he barely felted it now. All of his motivation to live…to escape…was now gone.
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Auto's Garage – Bronx
Saturday 1200 – 302 hours missing
Danny had received a phone call yesterday afternoon about his car, which was why Martin was at the Bronx garage on a Saturday morning. They had phoned, asking for Danny, to tell him that his car had been repaired for days and needed to be picked up. Of course, Danny wasn't there to take to the call or pick the car up—so Martin did. When he got there, Martin found he didn't have the strength to tell them that Danny was believed to be dead. Probably because he didn't believe it himself. He had often heard Danny talk about his car—how gorgeous it was—but he never really understand until he saw it. The mechanic pointed toward a dark blue car with silver stripes, 1967 Shelby Mustang GT 500. Martin never really understood Danny's love for cars, but he did now. When Martin somehow found himself driving towards his place, he felt like he was nicking Danny's car. No, Martin thought, he would just store in his garage until Danny comes back. Then he'll ask him if he could take it for a spin. As Martin pulled into his garage, he suddenly realised that tomorrow Danny would have been missing for 2 weeks. The chances of having a spin in the car were slim. Martin punched the steering wheel. How could he be so shallow, he thought, when his friend was either dead or in a seriously bad way.
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Undisclosed location
Monday 1200 – 350 hours missing
"What are the government's responses a bio attack?" yelled Molotov as he stroked his Colt Double Eagle down Danny's face. After he had told Taylor about his brother's murder, the guy had shut down as if he did care anymore. For the second time in as many days, he picked up syringe filled with a mix of fine glass, brick dust and heroin and threatened Danny with it.
Danny looked at Molotov as he was threatening with that crap again. He vaguely remembered what Molotov said it was filled with. He knew it was the worse pain he had ever been in, but he didn't care. The amount of people he had hurt throughout his lifetime…how he abandoned his brother…how he wasn't always there for his friends…how hadn't protected kids from abuse…this was why he deserved it. Maybe this time, Danny thought, Molotov would go too far and kill him. That would be nice and at least it would be quick. He looked down as Molotov stepped forward and injected the potentially lethal mixture into Danny's veins.
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FBI HQ NY
Wednesday 1700 – 423 hours missing
Usually Vivian Johnson would be happy about going to watch the Yankees vs Mets, but not tonight. Something, no someone was missing. Even when Danny didn't come to the game with her, they would always rib each other the day after. As the Yankees usually won, Viv usually had the upper hand. But from then on every time the Yankees got beat, Danny would take great glee in reading the match report to her. There was no malice in his actions; it was just good-natured fun. She knew that she had to go to the game so when Danny came back she could give him a ribbing about the Mets losing again. When he came back…if he came back, she thought. Viv, like the rest of the team, had an undying belief that Danny was alive. Not that she would pity the person that was doing this to Danny. They say a mother protecting her young is one of most deadly weapons, and Danny was like a son to her.
After finding her way to her seat, she looked up at the clock and realised that Danny had been missing for 2 weeks and 3 days.
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A warehouse somewhere in New York State
Friday 1800 – 470 hours missing
"Why don't we use Novichok?" asked Molotov. He didn't understand why Dropshot was spending all this time and money on this virus when he could get a nerve agent in days for half the price and risk.
"Because Novichok is a Chemical agent and Biological agents cause more fear and damage," replied Dropshot.
"What?"
"OK, let's take for example a typical office worker. We will call him Bob. The bio agent get dispersed into his office, now everything he touches and breathes on comes in contact with the virus. Bob sits at his desk, uses the computer and phone, prints out a report and takes it over to his boss. Its his lunch break so he takes the crowded elevator down to street level and walks down the crowded street bumping into people as he goes. He stops at the deli, then returns to the office…always in contact with people. Before returning home, he goes to the gym and stops at the bar for a quick drink with his friends," Dropshot said and then paused. "Now think of the number people Bob came in contact with and think how many people they came in contact with. Now think of the incubation period of the virus, see what I am getting at?"
Molotov stood there for a moment. Wow, he thought, he had never thought just how much damage such a tiny amount of that clear liquid could do. Before the government knew what it was dealing with, it would all ready be too late, it would be worldwide. "So are we going to use a bomb?"
"No. A bomb would cause too much attention and, besides, it would kill some of the virus." Dropshot turned and looked at Molotov. "Operation Rhino will commence on Monday at 0900."
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Sunday 1630 – 516.5 hours missing
An icy draft filtered through the small room. "Do you know what this is 53459?" Molotov held up a small syringe filled with a clear liquid. The needle glinted as it caught the light
"No, but I am sure you are going to take great pleasure telling me." A heavy boot smashed into his damaged ribs. Danny groaned and tried not to pass out. He knew from previous experiences that passing out was not a good option.
"That was for being cocky, but you are right. I will tell you. This, 53459, is Ebola, but we have mutated the virus so the symptoms will start to show in 6-12 hours." Molotov smiled as saw the fear in Danny's eyes.
"That's nice for you," Danny replied with the bravest voice he could muster. It wasn't as if he wasn't scared of death, but he knew the affects of Ebola and for the first time in days, he felt alive.
"Do you know what I am going to do with it?"
Danny smiled. He was already screwed. What was another kicking, Danny thought. Another beating? At least he would die with a fight. At least he would die knowing that he had pissed this bastard off. He took as a deep breath as his injuries would allow, before he replied. "Well I guess you are going to inject it into me and then tell me the affects of this lovely virus."
Molotov laughed. "Yes, that is true, but I will also make sure that you remain conscious through all of the stages of Ebola…right to the final stage where your body liquefies and your brain divides." With that Molotov slowly moved the syringe towards Danny's arm.
TBC………..
Please R & R
If anyone wants to know 1967 Shelby Mustang GT 500, is the car in gone in 60 seconds.