As always a huge thanks to anmodo for betaing this chapter. Also thanks to everyone that has reviewed.

Chapter 3

Dornvald had always been fascinated by the movies since his childhood, but he had never made it into drama school so, in a bizarre chain of events, he found himself working security. He couldn't remember the exact date, or the meeting for that matter, when he was recruited by the CIA. He had slept on the idea for a night before accepting the offer; this was his chance to live out his childhood fantasies. He could act. He could play the character of James Bond, but unlike his fictional icon, he was real.

Now he had his chance he to play with special effects. Once he had told Martin that he was right and that they didn't need Taylor, he handed one of his goons a pint of blood – which had been taken from a blood donating session that Taylor had attended – and a high dosage Atenolol capsule. On the bag of Taylor's blood was attached a squib, which is commonly used in the movies to mimic gunshots. Perfect, Dornvald thought, they look realistic enough in the movies but when one's judgement is clouded with emotion, it will be too real. The high dose of Atenolol on Taylor's young, fit, and healthy heart would slow it to undetectable levels, so that he would appear dead.

Dornvald watched as his goons dragged Danny over and gave him the signal that everything was in place. He picked up his uzi from the table beside him and released the clip of live rounds. Then he picked up the clip marked with two dots of green paint and loaded the blank rounds into the gun. He watched as Danny was placed in the execution position, while he walked around so his back was facing the camera. "Hello FBI. Just to show we are serious." He fired one round at his chest and activated the squib and then watched his magic commence.

Danny watched as two goons approached him. One roughly shoved something heavy and what felt like liquid in a bag into his inner jacket pocket, while the other rammed some form of capsule into his mouth. He was then dragged towards where he had his first talked with Dornvald and noticed Dornvald loading his gun. This can't be good, he thought. The same thought but with increased intensity echoed in his mind when he was pushed into the execution position. He shut his eyes and for the first time in years, he prayed. Then he heard Dornvald say those fateful words. After that, everything appeared to be in slow motion. As he heard the gunshot, he bit down – splitting the capsule – then it felt like his body was shutting down. He couldn't breathe properly and black spots appeared and started to grow in his vision. He felt helpless as his body limply fell to the ground. Then everything stopped. He felt as though he was floating; he couldn't hear the voices anymore. What he didn't know now was that to the world Danny Taylor was dead.

Dornvald waited for Martin to inform the camera and, more importantly, the people on the other side of the camera that Danny Taylor was 'dead'. He stepped forward roughly pushing the grieving Martin aside and signalled to his goons to turn off the camera and drag Taylor's unconscious body into the next door room where is 'employers' would give Taylor his new identity. He smiled as he looked around the warehouse; it looked like any other abandoned warehouse. Then he looked down at the cell phone. It was a clever little thing, the GPS chip had been painstakingly removed and a scrambling device had been fitted. There was no way that they were going to track him through this baby, he thought.

The goons dragged Danny into the small office at the far end of the warehouse and hauled his body onto a table. With a quick nod to the three men who stood in the office, they left. Michael Clarke, the small intimidating figure, stepped forward with a syringe in his hand. After injecting the correct amount of Epinephrine to counter the Atenolol, he waited. He waited for Danny Taylor to slowly come back to 'life' so that he could hit him with his new identity. He waited.

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Martin fell to the ground as Dornvald pushed him roughly past him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two of the goons drag Danny away. He tried to close his eyes and turn away, but found he could not. He had to see where they were taking his friend. He watched until Danny was out of sight and started to ponder his own dilemma. Now that they had murdered Danny, he was alone and didn't stand much of a chance. It should have been him that they had killed not Danny, he thought. Hadn't Danny suffered enough in this lifetime? Danny was dead and it was his fault. Jack knew by now and Jack would get them out, he thought, as shock began to claim his confused mind. But he knew life would never be the same again. Maybe if he hadn't honked the horn at the van, Danny would still be alive. If he hadn't mentioned his father, would Danny still be alive? If he hadn't – Martin paused – if he had just thrown the car into reverse, they would probably be sitting in Jack's office being fussed over. If he had just thought? If he had just reacted faster? Danny would be alive. He was too numb to notice the syringe that was being injected in to his neck. He was too numb to comprehend the darkness that was rapidly encompassing him.

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He stood still staring blankly at the screen as he watched the men drag Danny's body away. Realisation hit him, Danny was dead. Those bastards had just killed Danny. He stumbled slightly as he was overcome with emotions. He heard someone call his name and gently push him down into a chair. His head fell into his hands and he felt his body shake, but no tears appeared. His grief was past tears. He would never see Danny comforting a terrified child. He would never have to go to the OPR again because Danny had put a paedophile or a drug dealer or rapist in his place. He would never see Danny Taylor again. But his grief would have to wait, he thought. He had to get Martin out; he still had a chance to make it right for one of his agents.

Jack stood up, ignoring the protests around him and looked Van Doran directly in the eyes. "I agree with you, Paula. We shouldn't negotiate with them. We should hunt them down and kill them. I don't give a fucking damn about the political ramifications. Those bastards just killed Danny," Jack said as he yelled at her. He had deliberately mentioned Danny's name making it more personal.

"Jack, you know I can't do anything about it," Van Doran replied

"Yes, you can. You can pick up that phone, and get a SWAT team down there and blow them away," Jack yelled at Van Doran.

"Jack I can't do that. It's tragic that Danny died, but the situation is more delicate-"

"What? Just because of Martin's father, you think he is more important than Danny. That's the reason, isn't it?" Jack said as he eyeballed Van Doran.

"Jack, no-"

"So we are going to get Martin out?" Jack said as he cut Van Doran off again. He looked at her, and knew that they where going to attempt to negotiate with these animals.

"Screw you, Paula and screw your fucking policies," he picked up one of the phones and threw it at the video screen. He watched with satisfaction as black smoke rose from the smashed screen. He turned and walked out of the room. He didn't stop walking until he reached the bullpen. He looked around, feeling the walls close in on him. He didn't believe he could breathe. He stopped and stared at Danny's empty desk, a desk that would never be filled by his agent again. He felt someone's hand on his shoulder, and his senses came rushing back. He stumbled slightly. He felt two hands on both shoulders and someone calling his name. He opened his eyes to see his friend and fellow agent Rick Freedman.

"Jack what's happened?" Rick asked looking at Jack in concern. He had heard about Jack yelling at Van Doran. He had seen Sam run out – he had sent his co-worker Abbey to find and comfort her. Now standing in front of his friend, he needed to know what event had caused this distress. "Jack," he repeated his friend's name trying to get a response.

"Danny's dead and Martin might as well be," Jack said as be managed to respond.

"What?" Rick asked in shock. He looked at his friend's pale complexion and shaking form. "Let's go to my office. " He led his friend to his office and made Jack sit down before he fell down. "Jack, tell me what happened from the beginning," he ordered as he sat down next to his friend.

Jack tried to compose himself. "Danny and Martin were transporting Adisa - who was related to our latest case. In route, they drove into some form of an ambush." Jack paused as he tried to compose himself farther. "They were taken hostage and… and then we got a video message." He held his head in his hands.

Rick looked at Jack in horror. He could guess where this conversation was going, but he didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe that his friend had seen Danny murdered. "Jack?" he prompted gently.

"We got a message with someone holding a gun to Martin's head, demanding two mill US and Paige Hobson. A matter of minutes later, we got another message--," Jack paused again. "They executed Danny"

"Oh god, Jack. I don't know want to say. I am sorry," Rick said in shock. This was far worse than he had expected. "And Van Doran is trying to negotiate Martin out of there?" he asked.

"After they killed- sorry after they murdered Danny, Van Doran pretty much kicked me out of the room," he looked directly at Rick. "If they killed Danny without so much as a blink of the eye, what the hell are they going do to Martin?"

"I don't know Jack. I don't know. Look, you are going to go home and I will get Martin out. I swear. Even if I have to storm every god damn warehouse in New York, even if I have to storm the Makeba consulate, I will get him back," Rick said as he tried to persuade Jack. "Now go home."

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Sam watched as Danny took that fatal bullet. He had barely fallen to the ground before she had run out. She couldn't face having her last memories of Danny lying in a pool of his own blood in some crappy abandoned warehouse. She did not notice the people she knocked into as she tried to get as much distance between that room and herself. The room where she had already witnessed the brutal murder of one her best friends, a person who she almost thought of as a brother. The room that would soon show the murder of her recently ex-boyfriend, but who remained a friend. She stepped outside into the muggy New York air and watched people rushing back to work after their lunch breaks. They looked as though they were having a typical day, a typical lunch break. She felt her senses come rushing back and stumbled slightly. She leaned against the wall and tried to grasp what she had just seen. She looked uptown and started to walk. As her senses faded out again, she did not notice the concerned voices calling after her. She just needed to get away.

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Danny slowly felt himself leave the inky darkness. He jumped slightly in shock as he remembered the gunshot. Someone had just shot him in the chest. Why didn't he feel any pain? Maybe this is was what people described, maybe this was what it meant to go towards the 'light'. He was dying or maybe he was already dead. It was the only thing that made logical sense. He suddenly felt someone slapping his face and heard a voice demanding he should wake up. So he was dead, Danny thought and as some sick form of joke, his father was welcoming him to the 'afterlife'.

Michael Clarke slapped Danny again, "Wake up!" he demanded.

Danny slowly opened his eyes to realise he wasn't dead and that he still remained in the warehouse. "What the-, " he started as he looked around to see Michael Clarke and his associates.

"Welcome to your new life, Alejandro Rios," Michael said grinning. "To the world, Danny Taylor is dead."

Danny stared at Michael in disbelief. He had thought he would have had a chance to say goodbye, or at the very least to tell someone. But this was it; he has to begin yet another life. He loved his life as Danny Taylor. Sure there were parts of it that he regretted but wasn't that true of every life. Even though he still felt disoriented, he knew he had to get Martin out. There was nothing he could do about his life, but he could still save Martin's. At least Jack, Sam and Viv would get one of them back.

"Please let Martin go unharmed," Danny pleaded, "You've got what you want."

"And why would I do that?" Michael asked

"Because if you do, I will do anything you want. Please just let him go, you don't need him," Danny said as he continued to beg for his friend's life.

"Anything?" Michael asked

"Yes…anything," Danny paused, as he wondered what he as getting himself into and what 'anything' might mean. "As long as you let Martin go unharmed."

"I have other ways of forcing you to do 'anything'," Michael said laughing

"Look, you know who Martin's dad is; also our boss is going to be pretty pissed when he finds out. It you kill Martin as well, he will not rest until everyone involved in this is dead."

"I see your point and I will see what I can do. But for now…," he signalled to one his associates with a syringe and drugged Danny again. "But for now, none of that is your concern as we have a flight to catch," he said to the now unconscious Danny. He got up and gestured to Dornvald and pointed to Martin. He just hoped that Dornvald understood him and just roughed up Martin but didn't kill him. But this was Dornvald, so he could never he too sure.

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Jack had no idea how long he had been wandering the streets of New York or how he came to be in Tribeca. But the bustling streets seemed so peaceful, unlike the events he had just witnessed. Rick had told him it was for the best that he went home, and he would not rest until Martin was returned unharmed. Van Doran, on the other hand, had told him he was too personally involved. Someone had just struck his team, people who he regarded as his family. Someone had just murdered one his family and still held another and he was expected to deal with this rationally? It was bad enough he hadn't been there for Danny and Martin, but he could have been there for Sam and he wasn't. But she needed someone strong right now, not someone who was in a whirlwind of emotions. A whirlwind, Jack thought even that sounded tranquil. At the moment, his emotions were more like a tornado ripping through the land. How could he let something like this happen, he thought as he turned into his street, how could I let this happen? Danny was thirty-two for god sake. He had his whole life in front of him, and in a blink of an eye that all changed. He looked up at the sky and yelled, "Why him? Why them? It should have been me." He looked down and knew what he had to do. He was going to avenge Danny's death, and if those circumstances claimed Martin's life…he would avenge it as well.

He vaguely heard the squealing of tires before he saw the blue panel van. The van sped in front of him before the doors were flung open and a body was tossed out. He blinked several times before he recognised who the body was. Before he knew it, he had drawn his gun and had fired several shots at the speeding van. As he ran towards Martin, he pulled out his cell phone and called 911. Disconnecting the call, he knelt down next to Martin. "Martin," he said as tried to get a response. "Martin…"

TBC