Hi and thanks again for all of the wonderful reviews. As I said at the beginning of the last chapter, this story has been harder to write than all of my previous stories, so I think that makes me appreciate the reviews even more! Thanks, too, to those of you reading my old stuff and reviewing. I like knowing that someone is still reading my old stories, too.

Now on with the story…

Chapter 7

It was almost 1 o'clock and Roger, Peggy and Vernon hadn't had any luck in finding the children. Roger looked at his watch resigned that they had to stop looking for the kids and turn their energies toward their real mission. If they didn't head into Seattle now there was no way for them to connect with their contact at the warehouse by 4 o'clock. As it was they didn't have time to pack and were going to have to abandon most of their camping gear. They would return to the campsite and pick up only the necessities.

They walked briskly back toward the campsite as Roger made a mental list of what they needed to take with them. They were less than 50 yards away when the sounds of voices and police radio feed caused them to stop dead in their tracks. The tree cover was too dense to see very far, but there was enough noise coming from the clearing that they knew that their campsite was crawling with police. Roger tried to think of anything at the campsite that could tie the equipment to him and he was sure he hadn't left anything behind. In fact, when he thought it over, there wasn't even anything particularly suspicious at the site. He was carrying his weapons. There was a rather expensive two-way satellite radio there that he used to communicate with the explosives expert he had hired, but there was no way for the police to trace those communications and serious hikers and mountain climbers often carried that type of radio. Other than that, they really only brought standard camping supplies with them.

"What do we do now?" Peggy asked in a panicked whisper.

Roger waved his arm to direct them down the hill and toward a nearby stream. They moved quickly, trying to make as little noise as possible, but in point of fact, the police teams at the scene were making enough noise to drown out any sounds the trio running through the brush could have made. They reached the stream in less than a minute at which point they were well out of earshot of the police.

"If we follow the stream we should be able to avoid the police and still get out to the main road and into the city on time."

"What about all our stuff?" Vernon asked. "Are we jus' gonna leave it there?"

"Depending on the level of confusion after the bombing, we may be able to sneak back here for it," Roger lied to him. You sap! Roger thought. By the time this is all over they'll be picking up parts of you all over Seattle!

"And if we can't?" Vernon asked.

"Don't worry about it," Roger said impatiently. "You're making more money this week than you make in two years. Forget about it and keep your mind on getting out of here and making this operation a success."

The crime scene team had arrived at the campsite and was now in the middle of a methodical search of the tents and the immediate area. Unfortunately they weren't turning up much of interest. Based on the clothing they found, it became clear that a woman and two men had been living there. Other than the usual camping supplies, they found a number of maps of Seattle including one of the Asian Heritage Festival. Not that campers having maps of the region was unusual, it was just the number of different maps they found, including street maps printed from the internet of specific areas of the city. The satellite radio aroused some suspicion as well, but nothing pointed to the identity of the campers, what they were doing here or why they had apparently abandoned the site.

The K-9 unit Grimes ordered to the scene arrived about twenty minutes after the crime scene team. As they had done when the children were first reported missing, each dog was given clothing that had recently been worn by one of the children. The dogs eagerly worked their way across the campsite but found nothing until they reached the edge of the clearing. All four children seemed to have been at that location but nowhere else in or around the tents. Jack and Tony watched the dogs intently and trailed just behind their handlers.

Once they left the campsite, the dogs all followed the same trail into the forest. The dog following Ryan's scent, a German shepherd named Shadow, broke away from the others and headed toward the bushes where the boy had hidden to listen to the adult's conversation the night before.

Jack and Tony eyed the dog nervously. "What's he doing," Jack asked. "Why isn't that dog with the rest of them?"

The dog's handler watched the dog for a moment and then answered. "It appears that one of the children spent some time away from the others." Shadow sniffed the bush for a long time before continuing to the pine tree where Ryan had hidden from Roger. "The child was here, too, under this tree," the handler told Jack.

"Which child is he following?" Tony asked not really sure he wanted to know. It bothered him that one of the children had been singled out and separated from the others.

The handler held up a sweatshirt that the dog was taking the scent from. "Whoever this belongs to," she said.

"That's Ryan's," Jack answered. He looked at Tony. "That's odd. Ryan isn't terribly independent. Not like the other three. He isn't likely to go off on his own willingly."

Tony tried to quell Jack's fears. "He really wasn't that far from the other kids; thirty or forty feet, that's all. It's not like he went in a different direction."

Jack nodded wishing that Tony's words made him feel better, but they didn't. He did feel a little better as Shadow followed a scent that nearly converged with the other dogs as they moved deeper into the forest. The dogs continued without stopping for the next ten minutes or so until they reached the lean-to. All four dogs ran into the shelter sniffing frantically at the blankets.

"Do you recognize the blankets?" one of the handlers asked Jack and Tony.

"No," Jack answered. "They didn't have blankets with them when they left our house. The blankets must belong to the campers. Those are army surplus, similar to the ones back at the campsite."

The handler radioed the officers at the campsite to send a couple of members of the crime scene team to try and collect trace evidence from the lean-to. In the mean time, the dogs would continue to follow the children's scent.

By four o'clock the rain was falling in torrents and the sky was the color of dusk. It started around 2:30 with a misty drizzle and slowly increased in intensity. The harder the rain fell, the more depressed the mood became at the Bauer's house. Kate and Michelle sat on the back porch swing staring out into the rain just hoping beyond hope that their children would come innocently walking out of the woods as if they hadn't been missing for the last two full days.

Carmen sat on the top step of the porch protected from the rain by the awning overhanging the porch. The Bauer's dog lay next to her with his head in her lap. She petted him absently while staring into the rain just like the adults. Michelle had grown worried about her youngest child over the last day. She was normally such a happy-go-lucky little girl. Every simple thing made her smile: flowers in the garden or putting on a pink dress. And she chatted constantly. She didn't care who was listening. She would talk to the other children or her parents or the dog or even her stuffed animals. In the last day she had become nearly silent, speaking only when spoken to or when she needed something and, despite everyone's attempts, no one could make her smile. Michelle had tried repeatedly to talk to her, as had every other adult in the house. When anyone tried to engage her in play, she shrugged her shoulders and said she didn't feel like playing. Now as the rain fell surrounding them all with a cool damp air, Carmen seemed even more morose. She finally pushed Frankie's head from her lap and walked slowly to the swing where her mother sat. Big tears filled her eyes as she climbed into Michelle's lap.

"Mommy," she whispered in a quivering voice. "Does Daddy have a raincoat?"

"Yes, Sweetie. Daddy and all of the rescuers have raincoats."

"That's good," Carmen answered without seeming very happy about it. She thought for a moment before she spoke again as if trying to decide if she wanted to ask the next question. "Do Lucy and Rico have raincoats?"

"No, Baby," Michelle answered as she fixed one of Carmen's braids.

"They're gonna get all wet," she said as a tear or two made their way down her face.

"I know, Sweetie," Michelle said no longer trying to hold back her own tears.

Carmen pressed her face against Michelle's neck. "What if they don't ever come home, Mommy?" she asked barely able to speak through her sobs. "What will we do if they don't come home?"

Unwilling to concede to herself or others that this was even a possibility until now, Michelle clung to Carmen. She hated that Carmen had been the first to acknowledge this possibility out loud. She hated that Carmen's perfect childhood, one of such happiness, had been destroyed; her innocence ripped from her. She was angry about it. She was angry at the kids for wandering away when they knew better than to do so. She was angry at Jack for not keeping a closer eye on them. She was angry at Tony for being out of town when it all happened. But she was most angry at herself for going to work that day; she should have stayed home. Tony had to work to support them, but it was her responsibility to take care of Rico and Lucy and Carmen and, in her mind, she had failed them. Now she had to try and give Carmen a reasonable answer to her question: What will we do if they don't come home. Michelle didn't have a reasonable answer. All she could do was cry and answer her precious daughter honestly. "I don't know, Baby," she whispered through her own tears. "I don't know what we'll do."

Even the police officers manning the "command center" in the Bauer's dining room felt the change in the mood that had accompanied the change in the weather. They were largely quiet and spoke only when necessary. Radio transmissions were now few and far between. All of the rescue teams had been reassigned into the area near the campsite. The dogs had followed the children's scents to the mangled bush that Mason had fallen into. The dog following Mason's scent had barked and yipped excitedly as she sniffed at the blood on the rock. Jack and Tony were nearly sick when they remembered the noise that woke Jack and realized how close the children had been to them the night before. That it was his son's blood on the rock and not the blood of some animal as he had believed the night before, was devastating to Jack. Knowing that his son was hurt and he hadn't been there to help him was almost unbearable.

The dogs were further able to follow the scent to the small stand of trees where the children hid for most of the last night. Shortly after that, the children's trail seemed to diverge as if they had been separated but the rain prevented the dogs from following the scent any further.

"It doesn't make any sense," Jack said shaking his head. "They wouldn't have separated voluntarily."

"Even if they did make some decision to split up, wouldn't Mason have stayed with Ryan and Rico with Lucy?" Tony added.

"Tony's right," Jack told the team over the radio. "I don't believe the kids made the decision to separate. I think they were forced to do it."

The idea that the children had been forcibly separated was frightening to everyone involved. It was clear that there were three adults living at the abandoned campsite. If they had wanted to help the children, they would have used their satellite radio to call the police. No, it was clear that their intent was to do some harm to the children and with the children's scent trails now going in two different directions, police, rescuers and parents all felt certain that the children were now in dangerous hands.

Rico and Ryan continued winding their way through the woods looking for a sheltered place to wait out the coming rain. The terrain in the area was difficult to traverse. A hundred years earlier a vein of silver had been discovered nearby and the area was overrun with would-be miners trying to make their fortunes in silver. Many trees were felled and lots of mines were dug, but few of those mines produced. The disappointed miners left the region deserting the land once more. Eventually the trees reseeded and grew up again, but the heavily undermined ground could not support their weight. The mines subsided leaving holes and pits everywhere. Rico and Ryan were careful to avoid the pits that tended to be thick with barbed bushes. But on the positive side, many of the bushes produced sweet berries that, right now, were about the only source of food they could find. They picked berries by the handful and saved them in some empty containers still in their backpacks from the lunch Loretta had packed for them a lifetime ago.

By mid afternoon, the rain had become a thick mist that seemed to hang in the air and their clothing was becoming damp and cold. They eventually found a stand of trees similar to the ones they found the night before. They were on a hill and mine subsidence beneath the ground had led to the trees leaning precariously toward the hillside. The result was a thick pine curtain to cover them. Rico particularly liked the location because there was a large clearing nearby that would allow them to put some distance between themselves and the trees if they saw any lightening.

The boys crawled under the branches and sat against the trunk of the tree. Just like the night before, it was pretty comfortable. There were no low branches near the bottom of the tree, so they could sit upright and see out while remaining dry and warm under the tree.

Ryan was very tired and Rico wasn't surprised when the younger boy lay down pillowing his head on his backpack and, without another word, fell asleep. Rico opened his own backpack and removed the beach towel that he had packed in there days ago. He opened the towel and carefully covered Ryan with it. He smiled wryly as he did it knowing that his neat-freak mother would be appalled to see him covering Ryan with the dirty towel. Oh well, he thought, it's all I have right now and you wouldn't want Ryan to get cold, would you, Mom?

Rico sighed and leaned back against the tree trunk. He suddenly felt so responsible for Ryan and he wasn't sure he liked having all of that responsibility rest on him. He listened as the rain fell harder and harder. Ryan slept and Rico reflected on the last couple of days. He wondered how Mason and Lucy were. Had they found someplace dry to ride out the rain? Would they sleep comfortably tonight? He wondered, too, if Roger and company were still looking for them. According to what Ryan had overheard the night before, the three of them needed to be in Seattle at 4 o'clock to meet the guy with the explosives. It was after 4 o'clock now. Did that mean that they were safe? Or did Roger decide to forego his meeting in order to keep hunting for them? Maybe Roger had a "plan B" and someone else could construct the bombs while he and Peggy and Vernon stayed in the forest. It was too much to think about. He had no control over what Roger or Peggy or Vernon did nor could he take care of Mason and Lucy. All he could do right now was make sure that he and Ryan were as safe as possible and, whether good or bad, everything else would take care of itself.

Mason and Lucy thought that they were seeing a mirage when the old, dilapidated miner's shack came into view. It was small and square with its door hanging by one hinge. There were windows cut into two sides that probably never had any glass in them and the wood panels that the miners used to keep out the wind and rain and snow had long since blown away. Despite that, it looked sturdy enough to keep them sheltered from the rain as long as they stayed away from the windows and the door. Lucy got so excited when she saw it that she broke into a full run toward the door.

"No Lucy!" Mason shouted. "Don't go in! We have to make sure it's safe."

"Why wouldn't it be safe?" Lucy asked. "Do you think it's going to be wetter in there than it is out here?"

"No, of course not. I just want to make sure nothing is living in there."

"News flash, Mason! Bears don't live in houses." Lucy said sarcastically. "Goldilocks was a fairy tale." Lucy had inherited Tony's quick wit and sarcastic sense of humor and managed to display it at the most inopportune times.

"I know that, Lucy, but that doesn't mean that one couldn't have wandered in and decided to stay. They want to be warm and dry just like we do. Besides, something worse than bears could be in there. There might be snakes!" That was cruel and Mason knew it but somehow he just couldn't resist it after Lucy's wisecrack about bears living in houses.

"Mason, don't say that!" Lucy cried. "You don't think there are really any snakes in there, do you?"

"I don't know. Let me look." Mason walked around to the side of the shack and peeked in one of the open windows. The place was dirty; its wood plank floor strewn with pine needles and small branches and its corners thick with spider webs. Lucy wasn't going to like the webs, but she would have to live with it. The place otherwise looked like it offered decent protection. "Looks okay," Mason reported. "I think we can go in."

Lucy pushed back the door as far as possible, which amounted to less than a foot, and then squeezed in between the door and door frame. The floor protested loudly as she stepped on it. She stepped back quickly to take her weight off of that particular spot.

"I'm not sure I'd step there again," Mason suggested.

Lucy stepped lightly to the left where the boards seemed sturdier. They found a relatively clean, dry spot against a wall where they took off their backpacks.

Just a few minutes later, the rain grew from a steady drizzle to a heavy downpour. Lucy, like Ryan, was very tired and dozed as she leaned against the wall. Mason stood staring sadly out the open window, a fine mist of rain spraying his face. He was certain that there was no chance that anyone would rescue them tonight. Who would be searching for them when it was raining this hard?

Mason could hardly stand the thought that they would spend yet another night in the forest. The nights had been bad enough when it wasn't raining but with the rain he didn't think he could stand it. He had also begun to feel very guilty that he and Rico had gotten Ryan and Lucy into this situation. The two of them were the ones who wanted to play "spy". Lucy and Ryan had merely gone along with the game. No, he and Rico were to blame and he suspected that when they got home, if they got home, the punishment would be harsh. Or maybe, he thought hopefully, Mom and Dad will be so happy to see us that they won't bother to punish us. He rolled his eyes knowing how utterly ridiculous that notion was. No, he would face the music and accept his punishment. It wouldn't be undeserved so why try and fight it. At the moment it really didn't matter what the punishment was as long as the four of them got home.

About the same time that the children were all finding shelter from the rain, Roger, Peggy and Vernon reached the new Warner Enterprises warehouse on West Street in an industrial section of Seattle. Their maps and GPS left at the campsite, the three had to rely on Roger's memory to get to the warehouse. Roger had learned back in his Special Forces days to memorize, and then destroy, maps of target areas. The skill came in handy as they made their way through the lesser traveled streets of Seattle. The rain helped, too. Bad weather was putting a damper on the festivities in the downtown area. There was less traffic, both automobile and pedestrian, than Roger had expected which, in his mind, was a bonus.

While he walked, Roger rearranged their timetable in his mind. They would still reach the warehouse in time to meet the munitions expert at 4 o'clock. After that he would leave Peggy and Vernon to help with the bomb construction while he checked out the festival. That should take him three or four hours. After that he would meet the group at the warehouse and they could pack up the truck to take the newly constructed bombs into the center of town. Once everyone was gone, which should be early on a rainy day like this, they would plant each of the devices. Roger's goal was to be back in the warehouse no later than 2 o'clock in the morning. Before leaving the warehouse for the last time, they would set explosives on timers to blow up the building at the same time the next afternoon as the bombs would go off at the festival.

Roger easily picked the lock on the rear entrance of the warehouse and entered with his gun drawn. He spent the first couple of minutes inside making sure that the building was deserted. Once he was satisfied that it was, he holstered his weapon and allowed himself to relax. Peggy stood near the door watching for the truck with the explosives to arrive.

It was a few minutes after four when Peggy caught sight of the unmarked, white box truck backing up to the loading dock. A red haired man matching the description Roger had given her looked back and forth to make sure no one was watching and then exited the truck. "He's here," she told Roger.

Roger moved toward the door and Peggy stepped aside. Roger looked out and verified that the man on the other side was Larry Fitzgerald, or at least that was the name he was currently using. He opened the door before Fitzgerald could knock. Fitzgerald looked surprised to see Roger.

"I thought you were supposed to be at the festival deciding on the best locations to place the devices," he said. His reference to the bombs as "devices" made their plan seem so much less sinister.

"Yeah, well there was a glitch. Let's unload and then I'll head out to the festival. I should be back by 8 o'clock."

"Is this a glitch that I need to worry about?" Fitzgerald asked.

"No, it's nothing that I can't handle. It just slowed us down," Roger told him. He leaned back into the warehouse and made a beckoning gesture toward Vernon and Peggy. "Get out here! We need help unloading."

The four of them proceeded to unload the truck and move all of the supplies into the warehouse. Soon, Fitzgerald was busy showing Vernon and Peggy what he needed them to do and Roger was heading off in the driving rain for the festival.

Roger returned as promised at 8 o'clock soaking wet, but with detailed plans of where each bomb would be placed. Besides bombing the main stage where Japanese dancers would be performing at 4 o'clock tomorrow, Roger had selected a combination of the largest booths and some smaller ones located nearest the main street exits. That way, he would achieve a maximum number of casualties in the explosions and block egress to people trying to escape the inferno.

The rain seemed to slow down a bit around 9 o'clock as they loaded the truck and Larry drove them out of the industrial area and into the business district. They slowly cruised the streets around the closed festival and by 10 o'clock decided that it was safe to park in an alley near the main stage and get started setting the charges. Roger, Peggy and Vernon were undeniably tired after having searched the forest for the children the night before and the work took longer than planned in the dark, rainy night. It was nearly 3:30 in the morning before they finally finished and made their way back to the warehouse and still their work was not finished. Charges still had to be set to blow up the warehouse, but that part was easy and was completed a half hour later.

They helped Larry Fitzgerald load the rest of his gear into his truck. Roger told Peggy and Vernon to go inside the warehouse and find somewhere to sleep while he completed his transaction with Fitzgerald. Peggy breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that they were finally finished and could rest. She looked back as Roger handed a fat envelope to Larry. She smiled as the warehouse door closed behind her knowing that they would get their pay off tomorrow night.

"You need any more help?" Fitzgerald asked Roger after he had taken a moment to count the money and make sure it was all there.

"I can take care of everything from here," Roger assured him.

"You know how to set the timers, right?"

Roger nodded. "I've done that before. Don't worry about it. Just get yourself as far from Seattle as possible by the time those bombs start going off."

Fitzgerald smiled; the $150,000 that Roger just handed him would cover his tracks and take him thousands of miles away. "Let me know the next time you need my help," Fitzgerald told him. "You know how to get in touch with me."

Roger said nothing; he simply nodded. His face was illuminated by a streetlight but it revealed nothing that Fitzgerald could read. Roger was always like that. Fitzgerald never knew whether the man was pleased with his work or not, but every few years, he got a call and each time, Roger was willing to pay top dollar to have a job done.

Roger stood in silence watching as Fitzgerald drove away and disappeared around a corner. He inhaled the night air. It was cool and clear now that the rain had finally stopped. After checking the street one final time, Roger walked purposefully back to the rear entrance of the warehouse. As he did, he pulled his gun from its holster and reached into his pocket to retrieve the silencer. He mated the two as he walked quietly through the door, the gun safely hidden behind his back.

Vernon heard Roger's footsteps behind him. "Is Fitzgerald gone?" he asked as he turned toward Roger.

Roger didn't way a word. He raised his right hand, aimed and fired before Vernon knew what was happening. Even with a silencer, the sound of the gunshot reverberated in the empty warehouse. Peggy was several feet away with her back turned but the noise behind her made her jump.

"What was…" she started. Before she could finish, Roger had aimed again and fired. The shot caught her right at the base of the throat. She was gasping for breath as she dropped to the floor.

"Sorry, Peggy," Roger said without emotion. "I kind of liked you, but I couldn't trust you to keep your mouth shut." He fired again, this time into her chest at point blank range. Peggy stopped gasping and her body relaxed; her blue eyes staring, unfocused. Roger turned his attention back to Vernon. The large man appeared to be dead but Roger couldn't take a chance. He put his gun against Vernon's temple and pulled the trigger. Satisfied that the two were dead, he knelt next to Peggy's body and checked her pockets to make sure she wasn't carrying any identification or anything that could link her to him. From her front left hand pocket he pulled a room key for a cheap motel about a half mile away. They had passed the motel on their way into town and Roger had Peggy go in and rent a room. Their conversation swirled in his head. He remembered handing her the cash to pay for it.

"One room, one night. Got it?"

"Why can't we git two rooms?" Vernon asked angrily. "I ain't sharin' my wife with nobody."

"Think about this, Vernon, or is that too much to ask?" Roger retorted. "Peggy is going to walk in there dripping wet, alone, with no suitcase and you don't think it's suspicious that she would ask for two rooms? This place expects all kinds of vagrants and they don't ask a lot of questions as long as you pay upfront but two rooms is going to raise someone's suspicion."

Peggy did as she was told and within five minutes she came out of the lobby with the room key. Now Roger was going to take the key and head back to the motel. All he could think about was a hot shower and a decent night's sleep. He quickly checked Vernon's pockets, set the timers on the charges and left the building.

Twenty minutes later Roger opened the door to the motel room. The room was musty and had a dank feel to it, but it was better than sleeping outside again tonight. He stripped off his still damp clothing and hung them over furniture to dry. The bathroom smelled of mildew, but at the moment he didn't care. He hadn't had a shower in days and at least the motel had hot water. He lathered from head to toe and then stepped out to dry on a scratchy white towel.

As he dried off, he walked back out into the bedroom and turned on the ancient television set. He manually changed the channel (there was no remote control) and stopped at a 24 hour news channel. Roger sat on the bed and threw the towel over his wet head and started to dry his hair. He half listened to the anchor woman reading the news:

"Local police agencies report that today's bad weather hampered their efforts to find four missing Seattle children."

Roger pulled the towel away from his face to watch. Pictures of the four children appeared on the screen.

"This was the third day rescuers spent in a heavily wooded area east of a Seattle suburb looking for the children. Two of the children, 10 year-old Mason Bauer and his 7 year-old brother Ryan, are the sons of Warner Enterprises Chairman and CEO Katherine Warner Bauer and her husband, Jack Bauer. Mrs. Bauer is the daughter of Warner Enterprises founder Bob Warner."

Roger watched as the news station played file footage of Kate Bauer walking hand-in-hand with her husband at some black tie charity event.

"Well, well, well, Jack Bauer," Roger said to the empty room. "As I live and breath!" Roger hadn't seen Jack in over 25 years since the two of them trained together in the Special Forces. Although he looked older, Jack's appearance hadn't changed much over the years. He was still blond and handsome and solidly built. Roger took note of the smile on Jack's face. He hadn't smiled much during his Special Forces training, none of them had. It irritated Roger to see that Jack was happy. "You old son of a bitch! You always did have the most beautiful girls interested in you while the ugly old coots like me were stuck with what was left. This time, not only is she beautiful, she's rich, too. I've been a working stiff all my life and it looks like you made your money the old fashioned way: you married into it."

Roger continued to watch the news hoping to get more information, but the news anchor had already moved on to the next story. What a coincidence, Roger thought, of all the kids in Seattle, what are the chances that I run into Jack Bauer's kids and come close to killing them? The thought made Roger cringe a bit. He wasn't afraid of many people but he remembered how ruthless Jack could be when the circumstances warranted and the thought of making an enemy of Jack Bauer genuinely scared him.