A/N: chapter 5 has arrived! in response to the several requests for a speedy update, i decided to be nice this time - besides, i had a pretty cruddy day, so it'd cheer me up to read a few more reviews. anywho, enjoy and share your oppinion:):)

Chapter 5 – A Small Break and an Unfriendly Reminder

After questioning ex-police officer Allan Brent, a nervous middle-aged man who readily cooperated in exchange for less jail-time, they came away with one very important name: Jeremy Coarse, who, according to Mr. Brent, supplied the money for the paint job on the false police cruiser, and orchestrated the whole the kidnapping, having had access to the personal files and family information of every law enforcement officer including that of Greg Sanders. It was perfectly legal access too: he happened to be the head of the review board. Apparently, it had been Coarse who had arranged their team's reviews to be one after the other and on the same day to make sure that Greg would be alone at the arson scene, a crime that Coarse had had committed by the murderers Frank Muller and friends for the very purpose of Greg's abduction. They hadn't counted on Nick being there, and had therefore been forced to improvise, their options being either to kill him or to take him as well; Grissom was incredibly grateful that they had chosen the latter.

Currently, Grissom and Brass were on their way to Mr. Coarse's office, having arrived at the building shortly before 12:00 a.m. It wasn't long before they were ignoring his secretary's protests and walking up to him where he sat at his expensive looking desk. Brass flashed him his badge as he made introductions.

"Mr. Coarse, I'm a detective with Las Vegas P-D, and this is Gil Grissom, a crime scene investigator. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" he said tersely. Ignoring the accusing glares he was receiving from his two visitors, Coarse nodded, motioning to the two chairs in front of him. "Thank you. Now getting down to business: we have reason to believe that you organized and executed the abduction of Greg Sanders and Nick Stokes, two CSI's, at approximately 9:10 this morning." Coarse cocked an eyebrow, wrinkling his 55-year-old face even further.

"And what makes you think I would've had anything to do with that awful crime?" Grissom answered.

"The confession and written statement of ex-officer Brent saying that you hired him to get rid of the perimeter officers at the arson scene where the kidnapping took place, and his and your phone records of frequent calls between the two of you, for a start." Coarse shifted in his seat but maintained an expression of confusion and indignancy.

"This accusation is absurd! If you're going to take the word of an ex-cop turned criminal over mine with that kind of circumstantial evidence, then the criminology and detective divisions have truly lost their touch!" Grissom smiled.

"You're right, we would never even try to bring charges against you with evidence as weak as all that."

"I'm glad we agree."

"But, I think we would try it with evidence such as this." And with that, Grissom pulled a small tape recorder out of his pocket and placed it in front of him on Coarse's desk, pressing play at the same time. By the time the tape's several recorded phone discussions had finished playing, Coarse's face had gone ashen and both Brass and Grissom were smiling grimly now. "You see, Brent was apparently afraid that you might try to keep his share of the $20 million and so wired his answering machine to record all of your conversations, in case he needed to have a bargaining chip to persuade you to rethink his cut." Coarse was sweating now, and Brass smiled awkwardly before standing and moving beside Coarse, pulling out his cuffs.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."

In interrogation Coarse remained in a stony silence, refusing to reveal the location of where Nick and Greg were being held, resulting in his being transferred to the county lock-up and all of his possessions that he carried being confiscated, including his cell phone. Walking into the lab, Grissom found that the entire team was still in there, Sara and Catherine hovering over Archie's shoulder while he tried to trace the ransom video e-mail, Warrick watching the ransom video frame-by-frame, looking for any clue at all as to a location. Grissom cleared his throat to call their attention towards him.

"Has anyone made any progress?" All shook their heads sadly. "Well, this might help then: we nailed Coarse. He's sitting in the lock-up right now and this right here –" He help up the phone. " –is his cell phone. Could you get an address on every number in the call history?" Archie nodded and took the phone, setting to work on it immediately.

It was at that moment that the phone in the lab rang. Grissom picked it up, at the same time rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Grissom here."

"Was I in any way unclear about my demands?" Stiffening, suddenly very much awake, Grissom snapped his fingers at Archie, mouthing the words, 'Get a trace on this call' as he put the phone on speaker and replaced the receiver in its cradle. Archie moved quickly to comply while Grissom took a deep breath to calm himself before answering.

"No, your demands were very clear," he said, uncomfortably aware of the three sets of eyes that were on him and the phone. "Mr. Sanders is in the process of wiring your money to you as we speak."

"I may not have your fancy university degree Mr. Grissom, but I'm smart enough to know that no wire transfer takes two hours." Grissom winced but recovered quickly.

"Well Forman, $21 million is an awfully large sum of money, and paperwork for such a large transfer has to be filled out to avoid IRS and police interference." He paused. This was his chance, maybe his only one, to talk to his guys himself, to check up on them. "Of course, I could probably get them to fast-track through the details if we had some type of proof that both hostages are still alive and well enough." Scuffling sounded over the speaker and echoed throughout the lab before a voice took its place, soundingstrained and very tired.

"H-Hello?" Though it was difficult to tell, the voice belonged to Greg and Grissom let out a small sigh of relief, along with the other three.

"Greg, it's Grissom. How're you holding up?"

"I haven't been able to take a deep breath since I got here, but other than that, I'm fine," he joked meekly before becoming solemn once more. "Nick's lost a lot of blood Griss. I don't know how long he can hold out like this." Catherine felt the sudden need to sit down and did, careful not to make a sound.

"Well hang in there Greg, you're gonna be out of there soon. Can I talk to Nick?"

"Sure Griss. Oh, and one more thing…"

"You name it Greg."

"I'm going to need a serious pick-me-up after this, so make some of my Blue Hawaiian coffee for me; it's in the bottom left drawer of the far left counter in the break room, hidden at the back under the plastic bags." Grissom smiled slightly.

"Will do."

"Here's Nick." The next voice that came on made Grissom do a double-take.

"Grissom?" Nick's voice was weak and wispy, almost distant sounding and Sara sat down on the chair beside Catherine's, doing everything short of biting her own tongue to keep herself from interrupting with far less productive conversation. "Yeah, Greg was exaggerating; I've been worse than this before," he rasped, failing at his attempt to add levity to the situation. Swallowing, Grissom finally found his voice.

"Nick, have you stopped the bleeding?"

"Yeah, it must've been half-an-hour ago, or something like that. I dunno, they took my watch…" His voice trailed off for a second. He could feel exhaustion creeping up on him and was having a noticeably hard time warding it off to speak coherently. "Don't worry Griss, I'm fi – I really am fine Griss, I am." His voice trailed off again and Grissom struggled to remain calm, cool, and collected.

"Nick, how's your vision?"

"It's not really clear, but there isn't much light coming into this attic, so that's prol – probal – probably it. I'm just really ti – tired right now…" His voice was becoming more distant and quieter.

"Nick – Nick! Stay with me now, you gotta stay awake. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure Griss, I can do that, I – " He stopped in mid-sentence and for a second Grissom was afraid that he'd passed out, until a familiar voice returned.

"Satisfied?" Grissom sighed yet again.

"Yes, thank you."

"So, how about that transfer?" Grissom really didn't know what to say and suddenly wished Brass were here to instruct him – if he lied and told him that it was being done when it wasn't, Greg and Nick would more than likely suffer for it; if he got Brass to give the okay to start the transfer before they could track down where his guys were being held, their captors could go back on their word and leave with the money and abandon the two men where they were, and they'd never find them then. He finally settled on a decision.

"We're working on it but I – " He was cut off abruptly by a gunshot on the other end and this time Sara couldn't help the small cry she emitted when Greg cried out in the background. "What did you do!" Grissom yelled into the phone. "Greg! Greg, are you alright?" They heard Nick yell as well, though they couldn't make out what he was saying.

"He'll be fine," came the calm response. "He got lucky: it only grazed his leg, but he sure is putting up a fuss over it." As proof, they heard Greg grunt and gasp in an effort to keep quiet. "So, you were saying something about my money?" Biting back further comment, Grissom gritted out an answer.

"It will be transfered within the hour."

"Glad to hear it. Have a nice day." Nick's voice rang out one last time, now sounding desperate, lost even.

"Grisso– " The line went dead. For a long moment no one moved to hang up, but sat there listening to the dial tone, hearing in it their friend's voices. No one even bothered to ask Archie if he had gotten a location; his silence was answer enough. Finally, Grissom hit the hang up button and only silence remained.

Foreman had shot Greg so suddenly and without warning that Nick didn't have a chance to retaliate before the other two were able to secure a vice grip on his arms, holding him well back. Instead, ignoring the searing pain coming from the wound gripped in their hands, exhaustion forgotten, he contented himself with yelling threats and swears at the gunman until he finally calmed down and they released him so that he could go to Greg. Though it had only grazed his leg, it was obviously painful enough, and it took all of Nick's willpower to keep him from attempting a third and failing attack on this man. For a second, Nick even forgot that Grissom wasn't there but on the phone, and he called out to him, his wall of reserve cracking as he was faced with another injury that was slowly draining their hope for survival. He needed his boss and friend there with him, he didn't know what to do any more…

The beep of Forman hanging up and the three captors exiting the attic brought him back to reality and he turned his attention to tearing a strip of fabric off his surviving sleeve. Getting Greg to roll up his pant leg a ways, he tied the makeshift tourniquet around the wound on the front of his calf before helping him to sit up against the wall once more.

"You okay?" Nick asked weakly, though he had a pretty good idea of the answer.

"I guess I'll live," Greg responded with a small smile, staring resolutely at the ceiling before squeezing his eyes shut again.

At this point, looking steadily and silently at his friend, Nick wasn't at all sure anymore if that were possible for either of them.

A/N: there you have it! if the reviews keep coming, so do the chapters. and like i said, i had a cruddy day, so please review and let me know, cause i finished the story yesterday, and am waiting on reviews to put the rest on, bit by bit:):)