Chapter 8
"Darien, will you please hold still," Claire pleaded, as her Kept's restless fidgeting dislodged one of the numerous wires currently attached to strategic points all over his head and torso He was lying horizontal on the administration chair, naked to the waste and bored to death.
Surrounding him on all sides was a large array of machinery, including an ECG and a state-of-the-art portable brain scanner that they'd only recently acquired and Claire had been itching to play with. She waited until Wesley Carter had reattached the electrode in question with a piece of tape just under Darien's left breastbone, before tapping some instructions into her computer keyboard and then watching in eager anticipation as the ECG printer suddenly came to life, its precious data recorded across the endless stream of paper almost instantly coiling out of it.
"How much longer, Keepie?" Darien whined. "'Cause I really need to pee." He squirmed a little more for emphasis.
"I warned you it would be a long session. You should have gone before we started." Claire was currently marking points on the readout, too distracted to pay much attention to him.
"Didn't need to then…now I do,." came the churlish response. "And unless you let me up, I might be forced to do something that'll seriously interfere with the electronics… if you know what I mean."
"Oh, good grief. Go on then." She indicated grudgingly to Carter, who began to detach the electrodes. Darien sat up immediately with a relieved sigh and stretched, swinging his legs over the side of the chair..
"Come to think of it," Claire slapped a glass container into his hand before he could scoot past to the bathroom, "I'm going to need a fresh sample of that too."
After he'd answered the call of nature, Darien washed his hands and then studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror, deciding that he definitely looked as lousy as he felt His skin had lost some of its natural tan, dark shadows circled his eyes and his hair seemed to be making its own statement too - he ran his fingers through the limp strands to push it back off his face.
He was tired and cranky, his appetite had gone to hell and he could feel the onset of another mind-numbing headache, but he'd convinced himself that at least some of his decline in health was due to his continued fretting over Frankie.
True to his word as always, Hobbes had managed to get them a precious 10 minutes alone before the FBI had taken her away from him, more than enough time though for Darien to promise that he'd find her as soon as he was cut loose - they couldn't keep him locked down in the basement forever…could they? That had been 3 days ago, and since then Bobby had been giving him fairly regular updates, even arranging for them to speak on the phone on one occasion. Though the latest news that she was now settled in an FBI safe house, didn't actually fill Darien with that much confidence for some reason.
He dragged himself back sluggishly to The Keep, mentally preparing himself for another tedious session hooked up to Claire's machinery, but as the door slid open ahead of him he was surprised to find Bobby and Eberts on the other side. From the expression on both of their faces he knew it wasn't good news. Darien handed over the completely full container to Claire with an embarrassed little shrug, and then turned to face them.
"What's going on?" he asked eventually, when it became obvious that neither man wanted to be the messenger. He tried again. "Hobbes?"
Hobbes shot Eberts a look of pure thunder before he squared his shoulders and turned to his partner. "There's no easy way of tellin' ya this kid, so I'm just gonna come right out and say it. Your girl is missing."
Darien sank down into the nearest chair and just stared in stunned disbelief. Claire was at his side immediately, one hand resting on his forehead and the other firmly grasping his wrist to monitor his pulse, which had been fluctuating alarmingly these past couple of days. He didn't seem to notice though, barely able to find his voice. "When? How?"
It was Eberts' turn to contribute. "Earlier today. By all accounts her location was compromised and they were moving her to another safe house. Two agents were badly injured during the snatch, and there's no sign of Miss Casati."
"Well, Frankie wouldn't have had anything to do with that." Darien vainly tried to struggle up from the chair, but Claire was having none of it and held him down firmly.
"No-one thinks she's responsible buddy," Bobby assured. "Truth is, we're all worried about her."
"The Official has volunteered Agents Hobbes and Monroe's services to help the Bureau with the investigation," Eberts ventured cautiously.
"What about me?" Darien protested.
"Don't be ridiculous.," Claire scolded. "Anyone can see you're not well enough."
"Keepie?" The concern was evident in Bobby's voice, but Claire just gave a quick shake of her head, her eyes darting to Darien and then away for emphasis. Whatever she had to tell him would have to wait until later, as she obviously didn't want Darien to hear it for the moment. Bobby's heart skipped several beats.
Darien wasn't about to give up. "Everyone knows who's got her. Just get me a few minutes alone with that mother of a brother, and I'll swear I'll break every bone in his body until he tells me where she is."
"You're off active duty Fawkes, remember." Hobbes looked genuinely apologetic "And by the look of things you're in no fit state to break anyone's bones, except maybe a few of your own . This one's off limits to you, and that's a direct order from the Chief."
"Well, I don't give a damn if it's a direct order from ole George. Dubya himself," he countered, finally getting up off the chair with Claire hovering protectively beside him. "I either come with, or I'll find a way out of here myself. And you all know I can do that."
Bobby scratched the top of his head and peered questioningly at Claire. "I…uh…I dunno, buddy."
"Well, don't look at me," she snapped, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "The stubborn fool's already made up his mind, and nothing I say will change it."
"C'mon, Bobby," Darien pleaded. "Tag me, drug me, hell you can even cuff me to one of Fatso's little minders, but get me out of here man. Let me help find Frankie Please."
"Eberts, you think you could maybe clear this with the Chief?
The color drained from Eberts' face as soon as he realized the attention was now focused solely on him, one hand reaching to loosen the collar of his shirt. He cleared his throat. "That would be a firm negative Robert," he tried vainly. "The Official's orders regarding Darien are very specific…"
"Well, then we'll have to do it without him knowing," Bobby cut across the other man's flustered objections, winning a grateful grin from Darien. "You'll only need to cover our asses for a few hours."
"What…uh…no," Eberts spluttered, turning in the hope of securing some sort of back up from Claire, but she just shrugged her shoulders.
"I'll owe you for this one Ebes." Darien continued, quashing the last of the young clerk's protestations He patted the bewildered man's back as he hurried past, turning to call to Bobby ."Just gimme a minute here to get dressed."
Ebert gave a defeated sigh. "Oh dear. If you all insist on pulling me into your tangled web of deceit, then I'd better make sure that The Official is kept occupied, at least until you've left the premises."
They watched as Eberts also left The Keep, and as soon as he'd cleared the doors Bobby turned back to confront Claire.
"So, how bad is he?"
She faltered for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected question. "The…the tests have so far proven inconclusive."
"But?" Bobby prompted forcefully. He wasn't in the mood for any hesitancy or her usual convoluted doctor-speak. He wanted it straight. Good or bad. Claire studied her friend in return, knowing she owed him the truth, or at least as much of it as they knew at the moment.
"It's bad," she confirmed finally. "We've seen a marked deterioration in Darien's health, even in the last few days. He's getting increasingly weaker - though he would never admit it - and he's had a couple of mild seizures. And for most of yesterday he was fighting a migraine - we were forced to sedate him late last night so that he could get a few hours sleep."
Seeing the look of fear registering on Hobbes' face, Claire reached out a calming hand to touch his arm. "It's not the QSM returning Bobby, if that's what you think" she assured gently "Darien's truly free of that now."
"Then what?" Bobby couldn't disguise the fear and frustration in his tone. "The kid looks like shit."
She paused again and spoke just as Bobby thought he might have to grab her shoulders and shake it out of her. "We think there might be a problem…with the Gland."
He stared at her blankly. "Well can't you fix it, give it a shot…or somethin'"
"If it were only that simple…" her sentence trailed away as the doors of The Keep slid open and a fully dressed but disheveled looking Darien appeared, beckoning impatiently for his partner to join him.
"C'mon Hobbes, we're wasting time. See ya later Keepie."
Claire touched Bobby's arm as he turned to follow. "Don't let him out of your sight for a moment Bobby. And you bring him back straight away if he starts to feel unwell. Promise," she urged.
Bobby nodded and squeezed her hand. "Yeah, promise. All we'll be doin' is asking a few questions, chasing a few leads - nothing heavy."
From somewhere far down the hallway Darien called impatiently again to Hobbes, and Bobby gave a fond grin and rolled his eyes. "I'll have him back before ya know it."
Special Agent Ralph Keating shared a mutual scowl with Darien Fawkes as he stood aside to let the Agency trio trail past into the 6th floor briefing room, where Dee Davies was waiting to update them on the search for Francesca Casati.
Hobbes and Monroe had been expected, but Fawkes showing up with them had come as a bit of a surprise and one that he was now determined to use to his advantage. Charles Borden had obviously taken the warning about his agent's safety seriously enough to keep him well out of harms way for the past few days, but the young woman's abduction had brought the wise ass scurrying out into the open…at last.
Keating waited until the door of the briefing room closed, then grabbed his cell from his desk and rapidly left the office. Heading through a set of double doors out into the foyer and straight for a staircase, where he hoped he would find some degree of privacy to make his call.
The phone at the other end was picked up on the third ring.
"It's me…Keating." Even though he had the entire staircase to himself he kept his voice deliberately low; not wanting to risk it echoing through the empty space. "You wanted to know the minute Fawkes surfaced. Well, he's right here at the Bureau, along with that partner of his and a bitch by the name of Alex Monroe."
His foot tapped restlessly against the hard surface as he waited for some sort of response from the other end.
"Bring him to me."
Keating looked stunned. "With respect Mr. Casati, how the hell do you expect me to do that? Fawkes' people have already been warned that he's a potential target, so they're not likely to let him out of their sight. "
"Well find a way." Came the rigid response. "Isn't that what I pay you for?"
"You don't know what you're asking." Keating sank down onto the stairs and ran a hand nervously across his face and through his hair.
"I know exactly what I'm asking," Casati growled back. "I need to dispose of all the loose ends to get the Feds off my back once and for all. So, it's perfectly simple. I want Fawkes and I want that damned disk, so you get them for me…and make it fast. "
When their meeting with Davies had more or less wrapped up, Darien made his excuses and wandered out of the briefing room, leaving Hobbes and Monroe behind to go over a few additional details with the man. Despite wanting to hear every scrap of Intel about Frankie's kidnapping and what the FBI were doing to find her, Darien was glad to be out of the room and away from under Hobbes' almost relentless scrutiny - at least for a few minutes.
Several times during the meeting, he'd caught his friend staring at him with that irritating over-protective mother hen look of his, and it was a fair bet that the senior agent had an inkling that his partner was putting on an act in an effort to prevent his ass being sent straight back to his Keeper. And Darien had every intention of avoiding that at all costs, at least until he knew Frankie was safe and well. The terrifying certainty that she was back in the hands of her brother - maybe hurt and scared - is all that kept him from giving in to the pounding in his head, overwhelming exhaustion and general crappiness that seemed to permeate his existence of late.
According to Davies, Dominic Casati has been questioned at length about his sister's kidnapping, but of course the clever bastard had a cast iron alibi which put him about 50 miles north at the time of the incident, so his high-priced lawyers had bailed him in no time at all. Davies and his team were now in a race against time to search all of Casati's known properties - both business and residential - before those same lawyers got the anticipated court injunction keeping the Bureau from harassing their client any further. No-one really expected to stumble across Frankie in any of these locations, but with a lack of any solid evidence or actually knowing where to start their options were limited. They had no choice but to go through the motions and hope for a break along the way.
While Darien waited, he leaned against the doorway and glanced around the large open-plan office, his gaze locking almost instantly with Ralph Keating who was at his desk, lounging back in his chair and sipping from a steaming cup of coffee.
A second later Hobbes was coming up behind him and his hand patted Darien's shoulder. "Okay buddy, we're out of here," the older man advised. "Me and you are teaming up with the Fibbies to search a few of Casati's properties. Monroe's gonna go talk to a couple of her own contacts to see if we can maybe find your girl that way."
It took him just a second to realize that Darien had stepped away and not much more than that to know exactly why.
"Gimme just a minute here Hobbes. Just wanna go say 'hi' to my old bud over there."
For once Bobby's reflexes failed him and he missed in his attempt to grab his friend before he could do something stupid. "No, Fawkes, wait up there. Fawkes...aw crap."
Keating eyed Darien's casual approach warily, taking a look around to make sure he had
plenty of witnesses in case the punk went psycho on him again. But to his surprise the tall man was grinning amiably.
"Hey, it's Ralphy, right?"
"Ralph,." the FBI Agent advised curtly, as Darien perched himself on the edge of his desk.
"Yeah, whatever. I just wanted to apologize for my behavior the other day." Darien gestured back to where his partner stood, arms folded, keeping a watchful eye on the little scene in case he needed to dive in and extricate his friend. "Hobbes there is always warning me about shooting my mouth off like that. So, if I was outta line…"
It's okay," Keating responded through a thin smile. He'd been expecting some sort of confrontation with Fawkes, not an apology and wondered where this was leading. "Let's just put it down to the heat of the moment."
"Really?"
"Sure, why not!" he offered magnanimously.
Darien seemed genuinely pleased. "That's really big of you man, considering I called you an asshole and a jerk off." Keating stiffened slightly, but Darien just continued on regardless. "Now that we're all gonna be working together on this case ya know, I just wanted to clear the air and make sure there was no bad blood between us."
"No, it's fine."
He jumped up off the desk suddenly. "I gotta go tell Hobbesy the good news. Catch ya later Ralphy."
Keating watched as Darien leaned down to whisper something to Hobbes and then he thought he heard the smaller man splutter something like, "No Fawkes, tell me you didn't!" before throwing an amused glance over his shoulder as he shoved his partner out of the office.
The knowledge that he'd probably been played didn't concern Ralph Keating that much.
If Fawkes thought he'd gained some sort of upper hand by that show of…whatever it was…then that suited him just fine. Let the smart ass have his moment while he still could. Keating relaxed back in his chair once again; he had a bit of time on his hands before they needed to assemble for a final briefing Enough time to finish his coffee and then put in another call to Casati to warn him of his impending visitors.
Keating brought the mug to his lips, eagerly anticipating the taste of the coffee - strong and sweet, just the way he liked it. Instead he yelped in surprise and pain as his lips met a hard, freezing cold wall of solid ice.
Hobbes snapped his cell phone shut and made his way across to where Darien and the FBI team were huddled around a map spread out over the hood of a car.
Dee Davies finished marking up the next three sites on their hit list and was now in the process of selecting the teams for each raid, with Darien hovering expectantly. Bobby almost hated what he was going to do next but he had his orders from Claire, and
Darien did look just about ready to drop despite all denials on his part.
Davies was saying, "Team 1 should take the Cabrillo property, with Teams 2 & 3 hitting the offices and the warehouse near Lindbergh Field
Darien noted Bobby's approach . "Everything okay?" he asked guardedly, as Hobbes touched his arm and guided him off to one side away from the group. .
"That was Claire. You're wanted back at HQ. junior."
"Aw man! C'mon Bobby, please don't make…"
Before his friend could carry on with the protest, Hobbes reached out a hand and placed it firmly on his shoulder, staring intently into the younger man's troubled eyes.
"We've got no choice," he said firmly.. "The Fish is getting suspicious and Eberts is running out of things to do to keep him distracted. 'Sides, you look terrible Fawkes. It's time for you to call it a day. Go back, get some shut eye and you can start afresh tomorrow, 'kay?"
Realizing from his partner's resolute stance that any protest would be pointless, Darien gave a grudging nod. Hobbes jerked his thumb towards a dark saloon and the red-haired, skinny rookie Agent who stood beside it. "Jennings there is gonna chauffeur you right to the door"
Darien allowed himself to be guided gently towards the vehicle, with Hobbes fussing around until he was safely settled in the rear passenger seat.
"Bobby, promise you'll call if you get a break…" Darien started.
"That's an affirmative, partner," the older man assured.
As Hobbes shut the door and stepped back ready to allow the car to pull away, he sensed a presence behind him and turned to find Keating hovering there.
"You think I can hitch a ride?" The man was asking "I've gotta get back to the office urgently."
Bobby gazed curiously at Darien who gave a disinterested shrug, too exhausted and despondent to actually give a damn at this point.
"Sure," Bobby confirmed uneasily. "But Fawkes gets the first drop off."
"Fine with me." Keating was already in the front passenger seat by this time and belting himself in..
"And try not to piss him off."
Bobby stood and watched until the car disappeared from view down the long expanse of road The knowledge that Darien was safely on board and on his way back to The Agency should have given him some peace of mind. But if that were the case, why then was his relief tempered by a unrelenting nagging doubt that all was not right.
Keating glanced over his shoulder into the rear of the car where Darien seemed to be deep in sleep, his head resting against the door. He'd been that way pretty much the entire journey - it was going to make taking him a whole lot easier.
The more immediate problem was their rookie driver, Agent Dwight Jennings, though the young man was totally oblivious to the black van that had been trailing some distance behind them for the last mile or so. Now as they drove through the mostly deserted streets en route to The Harding Building, supposedly to deliver Fawkes back into the safe hands of his Agency superiors, Jennings finally seemed to sit up and take notice when the van suddenly accelerated.
Darien mumbled something inaudible in his sleep, shifting suddenly to adjust the rolled up jacket he'd been using as a make-shift pillow. His eyes fluttered open briefly but didn't focus on anything in particular before they closed again, at which point Keating let out the breath he'd been holding.
The van had narrowed the gap between the two vehicles. It was time to move.
"Uh…I uh, think we may have a problem." Jennings glanced nervously in the near side mirror and saw the headlights from the van flash at them a couple of times.
Keating made a show of turning all the way round in his seat to study their pursuers properly. "Nah, it's okay. I know these guys, they're from The Agency. Probably told to meet us halfway to take sleeping beauty here off our hands. They're signaling us to pull over."
Jennings flashed him a worried look. "I dunno. I promised Agent Hobbes that I'd deliver his partner right to the door. He didn't mention nothing about nobody meeting us halfway." A moment later he heard a rustle and a familiar click and found himself staring down the barrel of Keating's gun.
"Now, pull over asshole," came the hissed order and the young agent obediently jerked the steering wheel to the right, bringing the vehicle to an abrupt halt by an empty parking lot. Darien was thrown forward, his head colliding painfully with the back of the drivers seat.
"Ow…what the fu…," was all he managed before the dull thud of a shot from a silenced pistol and the sound of a window shattering into a zillion pieces brought him to full consciousness in a split second.
The scene that greeted him was utterly, mind-numbingly horrific.
Keating held a pistol over Jennings' lifeless body which was slumped awkwardly to one side against the door, part of his head now a sticky, bloody oozing mess. Darien moved fast and has his own door open just in time to heave the entire contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk.
"Holy crap."
Someone - probably Keating- shouted something as Darien tumbled the rest of the way from the vehicle, and did the only thing that seemed sensible under the circumstances. Taking a couple of measured breaths he willed the Quicksilver to quickly coat his entire body, then hauled his now invisible ass up and bolted across the parking lot as fast as his wildly protesting body would allow. Ahead of him loomed the shadowed outlines of a long row of low buildings - probably warehouses - and where there were buildings there were dark alleyways and even darker corners where they could all play hide and go seek, until he could figure a way to call Hobbes for backup.
Somewhere behind him he heard another vehicle squeal to a halt.
"Where the hell did he go?" Someone cursed.
"He's around here somewhere, spread out," ordered voice number two.
Darien guessed it was probably too much to hope that any of these were the good guys.
"Mr. Casati is gonna be hugely pissed if we lose him."
Okay, so definitely not the good guys.
He stumbled on and from somewhere back in the direction he had just come, another shout went up which had Darien half-turning to check out the source of the commotion. And that's when his foot caught on a piece of loose rubble and he went sprawling, the Quicksilver dispersing in a cascade of shimmering flakes as his concentration faltered.. And at that precise moment the beam from a powerful torch cut through the darkness, hitting the exact spot where he now lay prone and exposed.
"There he is!"
Unmitigated fear gave Darien the extra burst of adrenalin he needed to somehow push himself upright from his knees and take off again, his breath coming in long ragged gasps now as he struggled to reach his one and only hope of escape. Several footsteps pounded across the parking lot behind him and he didn't need to turn to know that they were closing…fast. A second or two later he heard a loud grunt as something heavy slammed into his back and then he was going down again, his body impacting painfully with the hard surface.
The man on top of him must have weighed at least a ton of solid muscle, which held Darien effectively in place as one of his buddies rushed to join in the fun, driving his booted foot brutally into his exposed left side. The mass holding him down deciding it might be even more fun to follow through with the kidney blow which put an end entirely to Darien's pathetic attempts at a struggle.
Then they were hauling him up between them, not even giving Darien a chance to regain his footing as they half dragged him over towards the black van, back to where two figures stood waiting for them.
Darien caught Keating's smirking grin as he was hustled past and slammed up against the side of the van, and then the man's breath was hot against his cheek as he moved in behind.
"Assume the position, wise ass," came the smug command as Darien's arms were forcibly stretched out before him so that they were supporting his body, and a booted foot kicked his legs back and apart. Then Keating expertly patted him down, tossing any items found - like his cell phone, wallet and ID - to the hood on the right. After a few minutes of this Darien was spun around to face Keating, who pushed his tee shirt up and ran his hands under his arms and then around the waistband of his jeans.
When the search was over, Darien's hands were pulled in front of him and handcuffs snapped tightly around both wrists, the cold metal biting into flesh. Keating took a step back and turned to speak to the man who up until that point had remained out of sight.
"He's clean. He doesn't have it with him Mr. Casati."
Darien's head jerked around to stare in shock at the figure now emerging from the shadows, a smile on the handsome face that didn't quite reach the man's dark eyes.
"Where is it Fawkes?" Casati's tone was bordering on conversational.
"Where's what?" Darien responded his own voice and manner one of pure innocence, which at that moment was a good cover to quell the feeling of dread that had settled over him the instant he realized that Big Bad Dom had been willing to risk it all to come out from behind the safety of his assorted lawyers and henchmen, to personally supervise his capture…and probable cold-blooded murder.
"To be honest, "Casati continued pleasantly, "I didn't actually believe you'd be stupid enough to carry it on you. But if you want to see my little sister Frankie again…and I know she desperately wants to see you Darien…you will give me the disk."
Darien pushed away from the van and made a move towards Casati, which was immediately blocked by the WWF wannabe who'd almost broken his back in the parking lot.
"If you've laid a finger on her…" Darien felt his frustration mounting as the big man pushed him back against the van and held him firmly in place with one huge hand pinned to the center of his chest, while Casati looked on more than a little amused. Then suddenly he was holding out his hand towards Keating, clicking his fingers expectantly.
"Give me your gun."
Keating looked like he might refuse but obviously knew better, sullenly tugging the weapon from his shoulder holster and handing it over as ordered. Casati caressed the smooth metal almost lovingly, then without warning lunged towards Darien and grabbed a handful of hair as he jammed the weapon spitefully into the side of his head, eliciting a sharp hiss of pain as he ground it in against. flesh.
"There's something you should know about me Fawkes." His mouth was pressed close to Darien's ear while his fingers twisted and tightened their painful grip on his hair. "I love my sister - very much - but I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to forgive her betrayal. See, if I don't punish her for it, how's it gonna look to people, huh?" A cold smile touched his face. "But, I might be willing to trade."
The gun pressed in even harder for emphasis and Darien winced. "Trade what?" he managed to get out through gritted teeth.
"The disk, of course, and…oh… your life for hers," Casati responded flatly. "I figure that watching you die…horribly….might help little sis get her loyalties into perspective. And if you're a good boy and co-operate then I might even spare her that, entertaining as it's gonna be for the rest of us."
"You sick bastard." Darien spat out the words just as Casati withdrew the gun and cracked it heavily into the side of his skull, releasing him with a sudden violent shove that sent Darien reeling backwards into the van and crumbling to the ground in a dazed heap. Casati then pivoted on his heels pointed the gun at Keating and fired, all in one fluid movement.
He stared down at the body dispassionately. "Before we get to the real fun, I just needed to clean up a few loose ends and you were one of them." Casati tossed the gun aside casually, then stepped over Keating's lifeless form without a backward glance and climbed back into the van.
"Bring him," came the barked order, and a stunned Darien was immediately grabbed by the two hoods.
After that, pretty much everything was a blur.
TBC