Chapter Six

5:00pm

Warrick stood, stretching his back, and looked around him. Greg was finishing the bathroom and Catherine was fingerprinting the medical staff who had worked on Grissom.

"Cath, I've got it. Took a while but we have a clear image of two men wheeling Grissom out in a wheelchair." Nick said, grinning in the doorway.

"Great, we have about fifty different fingerprints and blood," Warrick replied.

"Hey, guys?" Greg called, walking out from the bathroom with a syringe.

"Where was that?" Catherine asked.

"They tried to flush it down the toilet, without success."

"Nicely done, Greg. Let's get this stuff to the lab." Catherine said, gathering her kit and walking into the hallway.

"All done?" the uniformed officer asked.

"Yes, but this is still a crime scene. You know the drill." Catherine said.

"Yes, ma'am," The young officer replied.

"Where did the Agent go?"

"He left with the brunette,"

Catherine nodded her head and headed out to her Denali.

"Brass,"

"Hi, it's Catherine. We have a video tape of Grissom leaving the hospital. Can you meet us at the lab?"

"I'm on my way,"

"The FBI is guarding Sara?"

"Yes, and Mrs. Grissom,"

"I understand," Catherine replied.

"See you soon," Jim said.

"Right, bye," Catherine said, hanging up her phone.

Grissom awoke slowly. He was lying face down on a cool, filthy, concrete floor in a metal roofed building. It was very hot and very dark. His hands were tied with a plastic cable tie behind his back. His ulcer was raging, he had a headache, and without warning he vomited. Rolling over on his side, he gasped, tasting the coppery blood in his mouth. His heart raced as he tried to control his breathing and relax, but the pain in his stomach was too much and he passed out.

The door to the room holding Grissom opened and the man known as Agent Sheehan walked in. He grimaced when he smelled the vomit as he approached Grissom. He nudged him with his foot and got no response. Crouching behind him, he felt for a pulse, faint but there. He stood up and left the room, closing the door behind him.

5:30pm

"Nick, show me what you got," Jim said, sitting next to him in the AV Lab.

"Okay, here it is," Nick said, hitting the play button.

Jim watched as the men known to him as Agent Sheehan and Agent Sortos pushed Grissom out of the hospital and into the parking lot. They stopped at a grey van, opened the door, and put Grissom in the back. No one stopped them. They even took the time to walk the wheelchair back to the hospital door before driving away.

"In addition to the photos of the slime balls, can you get a photo of the license plate of the van?"

Jim asked.

Nick handed him three photographs with a tight smile.

"Thanks, will you run this through CODIS and I'll have my boys run the plates?" Jim asked.

"Let's go take a look and see if we have a hit." Nick said, walking out of the lab.

They walked in as the computer froze on a photo. Agent Marcus Sheehan was Troy Phipps. Nick printed out the sheet and waited for the next name. He didn't wait long as the computer froze on Agent Paul Sortos, or Brian Kasgar. Jim opened his phone, pulling Seb's business card from his pocket and dialed.

"Robbins,"

"It's Jim Brass. I have an identity from surveillance photos of the two from the hospital."

"Okay, shoot,"

"Troy Phipps, that's with three 'p's," Jim joked. "And Brian Kasgar with a 'k'. The vehicle was a late model light grey mini van. Nevada license Adam William Charlie 844."

"Got it, thanks. We'll look on our databases, now. What did the CSI crew find?"

"I just got here, myself, so I'm not sure. I will tell you that you need to interview Sheriff Rory Atwater and Conrad Ecklie, who made first contact with these guys."

"Yeah, Donner called about them. He's at Grissom's house with Roger and Sara. She really fell apart," Seb said quietly.

"I'll call Andy and see if he can go see her," Jim said.

"Who's Andy?" Seb asked.

"Andy Hays, department psychologist. He's been working with Grissom for the last couple of months." Jim said, dropping his voice.

"Keep me up to date on what you find out from Catherine and her team. I'll get every spare guy on the street trying to track these guys. We'll find him, soon." Seb tried to reassure him.

"I hope so," Jim said, wiping his tired face with his hand.

"Talk to you in a bit," Seb said.

"Yeah, talk to you soon," Jim said, closing his phone.

"Let's go see how Greg's doing with the blood samples." Jim said, walking with Nick out of the AV Lab.

"Greggo, what do you know?" Nick asked.

"I know that one blood sample is from Grissom. The other I'm running through the database. As to the prints, well we have Sara, Grissom, Dr. Evans, Nurse Adams, and twenty six more to throw to the data base. The chemical in the syringe was a narcotic, not factory made."

"What do you mean?" Nick asked.

"He means one of these guys is a chemist. Damn," Jim said, pulling his phone out again.

"Hello," Roger answered.

"Hey, it's me. Is Sara awake?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, go easy," Roger warned.

"I will. Make some espresso and blend her up a coffee chocolate milk shake, would you, while I talk to her?" Jim recommended.

"Sure, Sara, sweetheart? It's Jim," Roger said, handing her the phone and heading for the kitchen.

"Hello?" a fragile voice asked.

"Hi, Kiddo. Would you know how to make a narcotic?" Jim asked.

"What?"

"You are a science nerd, right? I mean, you could go into a lab and make something, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sara stated.

"Fine, we need you at the lab. We found the syringe that they used to drug Grissom. Greg has identified it as a homemade narcotic, or at least not a registered one."

"I'm on my way."

"Okay, can I speak to Roger again?"

"Sure, Roger?" Sara said, handing him the phone.

"Hi,"

"Hi, can you hook up with Seb? His number is 702-385-1281 ext. 40."

"Sure, tonight or tomorrow?" Roger asked.

"Tonight, please," Jim replied.

"Okay, will do. See you later. I guess I'm spending the night here. I don't have keys to your place."

"Oh, man, I'm sorry. Are you okay? Do I need to shoot over and pick you up or anything?"

"No, I have my briefcase and my duffel is here and that's all I need." Roger answered.

"Okay, then I'll talk to you later." Jim said.

"Night,"

"Night," Jim said, closing his phone.

"Sara's on her way in. She'll handle the syringe." Jim said.

"Great, let's go find Catherine and Warrick," Nick suggested.

They walked into the break room and Jim loosened his tie and sat on the couch, rocking his head back and closing his eyes. Catherine looked at Nick, who started to pour two cups of coffee. He turned to look at her, raising his eyebrows. He sat at the table sipping his coffee, letting Jim collect himself. Nick smiled pointed to his coffee.

"Yeah, Greg donated it to the cause." Warrick said.

"Yeah, cause we need it!" Catherine deadpanned.

The three friends sat in silence, sipping coffee. Five minutes later, Greg walked in, looking very tired.

"I think I might have made a breakthrough," He said, sitting at the table.

"Is the bullet from Phipps' gun?" Jim said, his eyes still closed.

"How do you do that?" Greg asked, amazed.

Jim opened his eyes and stood slowly. He walked to the table and sat down. Nick pushed the other cup of coffee towards him. He took a sip and groaned slightly.

"Years of experience, kid," Jim answered.

"So, the bullet matches?" Catherine asked.

"Well, we don't have his gun, but what I can say that is that that's the murder weapon."

"Very good. Anyone have anything else?"

"No, except to say that I'm toast and I've got to get some sleep." Catherine remarked.

"I might need a narcotic," Sara said, walking into the break room.

"Want some fresh coffee?" Greg asked, not hearing her remark.

"No, Roger fixed me up with a high octane coffee chocolate shake," Sara said, sipping from a go-cup.

Jim chuckled, keeping his focus on his own coffee.

"Why did I know it was you?" Sara asked, sitting next to him.

Jim held his hands up in defense before collapsing in tired giggles.

"Greg, talk to me about the narcotic and then I'll get to work," Sara said, all business.

"It's not from a recognized lab," Greg said carefully.

"I figure, since Grissom Senior was a drug dealer, he had a chemist in his stable. This guy may or may not be the man." Jim remarked.

The team was silent, thinking of Grissom and his strict code of honour.

"I need to get to work," Sara said, standing.

"We need to stand down. We're about to pull triples. I forgot to ask, where is Sofia?" Catherine asked.

"Her father had a car accident. She called from the airport at the last possible moment two days ago and I haven't heard from her. I instructed her to call me or Grissom, but so far, no response." Sara said,

Jim nodded, sipping his coffee again.

"I'm out of here." Warrick said, standing wearily.

"Me too," confirmed Nick.

"It's you and me, kid," Greg Bogarted.

Sara smiled in spite of the situation and walked out of the break room to start to work on the analysis.

10:00pm

Phipps walked into the cooling room where Grissom lay. He hadn't moved in the last five hours.

"I told you, you gave him too much," he said looking from Grissom to Kasgar, standing beside him.

"He's going to be here at midnight. We'll come back in an hour and if the good doctor's not awake, we'll wake him up the old fashioned way." Kasgar said, lighting a cigarette.

"As long as you have a plan, I'm satisfied." Phipps replied.

"I have a plan, I always have a plan," Kasgar said, following him out of the room.

11:15pm

Grissom rolled onto his back, assessing the damage. His headache was still there, as was his ulcer, but somehow he felt stronger. He also felt desperate. Thanking Sara exponentially for teaching him basic yoga to improve his mobility, he gently maneuvered one leg at a time to bring his almost numb hands in front of him, feeling a sharp pain in his left shoulder as he did. In the darkness, he saw nothing, but the pain was extraordinary. He couldn't really isolate it, just pain in his chest and shoulder. Lying on the floor, he felt a breeze. Clumsily, he crawled to the source of the air. Reaching his hands blindly, he felt a gap between the corrugated metal wall and the floor. It wasn't enough for him to escape. Standing, he crouched and felt for the bottom edge of the wall. Standing quickly, he pulled the wall back, like a sardine can, almost two feet. His shoulder screamed and a new pain in his chest blossomed, yet, before him was his escape route. At the same time, he had cut his hands, feeling the slickness of blood streaming through his fingers. He reached forward and decided it was big enough, and started to make his way through the opening. Reaching the cool outside, he slowly stood, rocking on the soles of his bare feet. He had no idea where he was. It was very quiet, but in the distance, he saw the lights of the Strip and he headed for them, clutching to every shadow, as he walked.

11:45pm

Phipps flipped on the light and observed the empty room.

"Kasgar, where in your plan did you have him escape?"

Kasgar ran into the room and then over to the wall.

"He's hurt, hurt more than what I did. I'll track him." He remarked, looking at the blood.

"This isn't Hemingway's Africa, for God's sake. You have fifteen minutes and I am not going to defend you." Phipps said, his hands on his hips.

"Who cares about you?" Kasgar remarked, pulling his automatic and shooting the other man at point blank range, twice.

The taller man fell backwards, dead on impact. Kasgar holstered his weapon and went outside, tracking Grissom.

Monday 12:00am

Grissom was close to the lights when the intense pain returned. He had a headache, his vision was blurred, his shoulder ached, and he had pain from his ulcer. He continued to walk for another two blocks, humming to keep himself focused, growling against the pain until he had to seek support from a light pole, and leaned heavily against it.

"Are you Gilbert Grissom?" a man with a flashlight said, moments later.

Grissom looked at him through the pain, tried to speak and gave up, his throat raw. Instead he signed with his almost useless fingers.

"This is Officer Prendergast. I believe I have located Gilbert Grissom. I need verification. Does he sign?" the young man said into his walkie talkie, watching the shell of a man in front of him.

"Wait one," the officer in charge replied.

Prendergast stood watching Grissom.

"This is Captain Jim Brass, hold the walkie to his ear," the voice instructed.

"Go ahead," the young officer replied, holding the phone up to Grissom's ear.

"Gil, go with this young man. Give him the thumbs up sign that you trust him." Jim instructed.

Gil looked at the officer and gave him the thumbs up before collapsing to the ground.

"This is Officer Prendergast; I need an ambulance at my location, now."

Jim hung up his phone and called Paul Evans.

"What?"

"Paul, it's Jim Brass, we found him. Ambulance is on the way,"

"Thank God, I'll head for the hospital now. Get Sara and the rest of your musketeers." Paul instructed.

"You bet," Jim said, hanging up his phone.

"Sidle,"

"He's on his way to the hospital and you are formally requested to join him." Jim said dramatically.

"Bye," was all Sara could manage as she closed her phone and hugged Greg, before running out to her car.

"Hello?"

"Roger, he's surfaced. Get to the hospital," Jim instructed.

"Huh? I'll take a cab, I'm on my way," Roger said, trying to awake from a deep sleep.

"Robbins,"

"Seb, it's Brass, we've located him. He's on his way to the hospital."

"I'll meet you there," Seb replied, hanging up the phone.

The ambulance arrived and found Grissom lying on his side, his hands almost blue from lack of circulation, covered in blood from the cuts during his escape, his right eye closed and blackened, and his chest covered in dried blood. After telemetry to the hospital, they stabilized him, and injected him with lidocane. Waiting two minutes for the medicine to take affect, they tried to cut the cable tie on his hands, but their surgical scissors were unable to cut through the wire embedded in the tie. The EMT walked quickly to the ambulance and retrieved the set of Felco C7 cutters and clipped the cable tie, smiling with satisfaction as Grissom's hands began to pink up. Grissom started to move against the pain so they strapped him on the gurney before transport.

The ambulance arrived at the hospital and Paul Evans had his handpicked staff with him. They had been briefed and went to work quickly. Taking blood, they administered his ulcer medication x 2 to see if they could still treat it orally. His black eye was a done deal, swollen shut. Since he had been walking barefoot, Grissom's feet were covered in open cuts. A nurse cleaned and bandaged them, gently. Paul directed a nurse to give Grissom a large injection of antibiotics before he hooked him up with more IVs to try to rehydrate him and get his blood sugar up. Finally, they rolled him into a room. Checking on the restraints, Paul went out to deal with the crowd.

"Black eye, damage to both hands, ulcer, headache or migraine, minor lacerations to the bottom of his feet and possibly a couple of broken ribs." Paul said briefly.

"Doctor, these fellas could come back. I'm posting an agent at his door. I'll need the list of personnel that you approve." Seb said.

"Sure,"

"Can I go in?" Sara asked softly.

"Any time," Paul remarked.

Sara walked into Grissom's room and tried to hold her tears in check. She walked to his side and kissed his cheek. He struggled to consciousness.

"I love you," he rumbled with some effort, opening his eye to look at her.

"Ditto," she said, holding his hand, stroking it gently with her thumb.

"It hurts, Sara. God, it hurts," Grissom whispered, clenching fistfuls of the sheet in both hands.

"What hurts, Gris?"

"Everything, just everything," Grissom revealed.

Sara reached over to his face to calm him but he continued to be restless, struggling against pain. Perspiration started to appear in his hairline and his face became grey.

"Get Paul, Sara, please," Grissom said, through clenched teeth, closing his eye.

Sara backed out of the room and rushed into the hallway. Paul was just walking away, his back to her, the team could see the fear on her face.

"Paul, Grissom needs you, now!" Sara called, her hands clenched together.

Paul turned and ran back to Grissom's room. Sara turned to Roger, who took her into his arms, holding her tightly.

Paul pushed open the door and walked quickly to the bed and pressed the 'call' button on the wall.

"Grissom, I'm here. What's going on?" Paul asked, slipping his stethoscope on to listen to Grissom's chest.

"Pain, everything hurts," Grissom said, opening his eyes to look at Paul.

The door opened and the nurse came in.

"Sally, read me the chart. How much lidocane did the paramedics give Grissom?"

"Thirty milligrams, it says here." The nurse said, frowning.

"What hurts, Grissom? Be specific,"

"Hurts to breathe, left shoulder, headache, stomach," Grissom listed, breathing hard now, trying to catch his breath, and fight off the pain.

"Alert the O.R. Get the portable x-ray machine in here. We need to take films of his chest, stomach and left shoulder." Paul instructed while putting the oxygen tube under Grissom's nose.

Reaching over, he turned on the air and then looked back at Grissom. Sally picked up the phone to order the films and reserve the O.R. before heading out into the hallway.

"Dr. Grissom's having some trouble breathing. We've got him on oxygen and we're going to take some films. Dr. Evans may have to operate." She said to the group standing outside Grissom's door.

"I have his power of attorney. I'll sign his surgical papers." Sara said, pulling the documents out of her purse, while wiping her tears.

"May I go and see him?" Roger asked.

"Let me check with the doctor," Sally replied, stepping back into the room.

"Grissom, just breathe slowly, nice and easy," Paul said, putting a hand on Grissom's right shoulder to reassure him.

Grissom's breathing was erratic. He was in pain and he was scared.

"Dr. Evans, the older gentleman with the beard would like to come in,"

"Roger, yes get Roger, now," Paul said, not turning his eyes from Grissom.

Sally opened the door and Roger walked in. Sara walked up to her to take care of the paperwork.

"Talk to him, Roger. Get him to slow down. I can't give him any more pain medication right now. I need to know what I'm dealing with, first." Paul said, into his ear.

Roger looked at Grissom's grey wet face and reached over to run his hand through his wet curls.

"I'm here, Moss. Nuncle is here. You're safe, just relax into the pain." He said soothingly.

Grissom looked over at him, his eyes moist. He reached up his left hand and Roger held it, mindful of the IVs. Grissom held on hard, staring at Roger, who stared back. Roger lowered his voice, whispering to Grissom, focusing all of his energies on him.

Paul heard the door open and the X-ray machine and technician came in. As he got set up, Paul walked around the bed and spoke to Roger.

"This is going to hurt him, I'm afraid. I need to slip the plates under him for every shot. We'll start with the shoulder."

Roger nodded as he continued to speak to Grissom, who was almost asleep. Finally Grissom let go, his hand slack in Roger's, his breathing even. Roger stepped away from the bed as another piece of equipment came in.

"What's that for?"

"It's a sonogram machine so we can take a look at his ulcer." Paul said, rolling Grissom gently to put the plate under his shoulder. "We need to step out of the room while he's shooting."

Paul and Roger walked outside to the hallway and listened to the sound of the machine. Hearing a beep, Paul headed back in to switch films. Grissom was still asleep, but Roger put a hand on him anyway. He helped Paul set the film under Grissom's back and left the room with him. Hearing the beep again they walked back in. The X-ray technician was packing up as the sonogram technician was getting ready. Gently, Paul pulled the sheet to Grissom's hips, exposing the bruising on his ribs. The technician spread KY jelly over Grissom's abdomen and ran the probe slowly, his eyes glued to the monitor. Roger watched Grissom sleep, while Paul looked at the monitor.

"There is it, Paul. Looks like you have no choice." The technician remarked looking at the colour screen in front of him.

"I've never seen an ulcer go sour this fast." Paul commented.

"It didn't, not on its own. See this bruising? He was hit, kicked, probably, and that impact furthered the damage."

"Thanks,"

"I'll print these up and bring them down to you?"

"Yeah, Simon's on, so I'll assist."

"Right," the technician said, packing up his equipment.

Paul took a tissue and wiped up the petroleum jelly from Grissom's belly before pulling the sheet up to his neck.

"Roger, you and the other musketeers should go home. We have to prep him for surgery. He'll be awake around nine or so this morning." Paul said, softly.

Roger nodded and walked out into the hallway. The group had gone to sit down in the waiting area at the other end of the building. Roger walked up to them and stopped.

"They're prepping him for surgery. He was hit in the stomach, which caused further damage to the tissue involved in the ulcer. They took X-rays of his shoulder and his ribs. Once they're developed, I guess Paul will figure out the next step on that front. Grissom will be back in his room around nine this morning. Paul recommends we all go to our respective homes."

The team looked at each other just as Seb walked up.

"Jim, I just got a call from your office. They canvassed the area and found a blood trail from Grissom's feet and hands. They traced it to a small building in the warehouse district. Phipps was there, double tapped." He said with a tight smile.

"Kasgar is still on the loose, then," Jim mused.

"I have to go get some sleep." Catherine said, standing up.

Warrick and Nick stood as well and walked up to Sara.

"I guess I better check in with my office," Jim said, looking at her.

"You guys go ahead. I'm gonna stay here," she said with a brave smile, accepting the hugs from the team.

"Me, too," Roger said, stifling a yawn.

"Sara, I'm Seb Robbins, A.J., uhm, and Doc Robbins' brother." Seb said, extending his hand.

"You're Agent Donner's Supervisor," Sara said, taking his hand.

"Yes, and he will stay with you and Grissom until this whole thing is resolved." Seb confirmed.

"Thank you," she said, feeling Roger's arm around her shoulder.

"Call me when he gets out of surgery. I don't know if I'm going home, at this point, so use the cell." Jim said.

"I will," Roger confirmed.

"Night," Jim said, following the team to the elevator.

Seb walked up to Agent Donner and whispered some instructions in his ear before he headed down the hallway.