Chapter 22

The man didn't show up that day at all at the bar, and that made Joel nervous. Two nights in a row he'd been there and now his not being there was grounds for concern.

He looked at Jack for a long moment before he started for the piano. Jack walked over and spoke in a low voice.

"Just play. I'll keep my eye out for him. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks."

Jack patted him on the back and Joel went and sat down. He plastered a smile on his face and started playing. For the first time in all the months he'd been here, Joel didn't care one whit about what he played. There was so much else going on that he didn't feel like he could give any attention to what he was playing. He did his regular set, took a break, took a few requests, did his second set and finished up without caring at all.

And the man who had come before never showed up.

When he finished, he walked over to the bar and sat down heavily.

"Am I off the clock?" he asked Jack.

"Yeah."

"Good. Can I have a beer, then?"

"Sure."

Joel knew that his worry was obvious. Somehow, he felt much more exposed that he had before. When Jack set the bottle in front of him, he took a long drink and stared at it for a while. He hadn't done much drinking while he'd been working here, partly because Jack didn't allow any of his employees to drink on the job and partly because alcohol was more expensive and not something he needed.

"Everything feels wrong, Jack. Everything."

"You'll figure something out, and if you don't, then, Lang will."

Joel shook his head and sighed. "Yeah. Maybe."

Then, the door to the bar opened and Joel turned around, ready to see the man from before coming in.

But it was Langston.

"Do you have something already, Lang?" Jack asked.

Langston shook his head, all business.

"No, sorry. I've had to put that on the back burner for now. Things are heating up. Have you heard anything?"

"Not recently," he said, but then, his brow furrowed. "There was something a week or so ago, but before you say it, I wouldn't have thought of this unless you'd asked."

"What?"

"Couple of guys came in here who never have before. They were here for three nights in a row and they seemed excited about something. Don't know what. I couldn't hear what they were saying." Jack's eyes flicked over to Joel and then back to Langston. "Someone was playing too loud."

Joel forced a laugh. "Not my fault. You're the one paying me to do it."

Langston pulled out a photo and slid it across the bar.

"Was one of them this guy?"

"Could be. I didn't get a good look, but it could be him. Not positive, but he was with someone else. Wasn't ever here alone and I haven't seen him in the bar since then."

Joel looked down casually at the photo. He didn't often pay attention to all the patrons in the bar. Too many people and he was usually busy, but he figured it didn't hurt to look, even if Langston was showing it to Jack and not him.

And then, his vision tunneled. For a long moment, everything vanished except for that photograph. Sound, light, everything. It was all gone and whatever else Jack and Langston were saying to each other completely passed him by.

"I know him," Joel said, almost inaudibly.

"Did you say something, Joel?" Langston asked.

"I know him," Joel said again, a little louder this time.

Both Langston and Jack looked at him in surprise.

"What?" Jack asked.

"I've seen this picture before. I've seen this person. I know him."

"Who is he?" Langston asked.

"I don't... know," Joel said, starting to feel really tense and more than a little scared. He stood up and backed away a couple of steps. "I don't know who he is... but I know him. Somewhere, I've seen him before and... and not in a good... way. I..."

There were black spots in his vision, but a vise-like grip on his arm pulled him back to the bar and forced him to sit on a stool.

"Okay, Joel. Just take a breath, a deep breath. Calm down."

Joel breathed as instructed and his vision cleared.

"Okay, if you're pretending, give up on music and become an actor because that's not something I would say you can fake," Langston said.

Joel took another deep breath and let it out.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that kind of... visceral reaction to a picture. You looked like you were about to pass out."

"I'd be okay with not having that reaction again."

Langston smiled. "I don't blame you. You think you could try to answer some questions about it?"

"I don't know. You can try. I don't have anything in my head about him, but I wouldn't have guessed that I knew anyone you were looking for anyway. I mean... I came here from Virginia."

"Virginia, huh. Maybe around Norfolk?"

"Maybe... I..." As he hedged, suddenly, it popped into his head and out of his mouth without giving him much chance to analyze it. "Yeah. That's where I was." He looked at Jack and then at Langston, feeling more than a little surprise. "...but I didn't... know that until just now. Why would you suggest it?"

"Can't tell you that, I'm afraid. Okay. It's really late, but I want you to be careful, Joel. Don't go anywhere on your own. If you're going to your apartment, I'll walk you to the door right now, but watch yourself. I don't know if it's necessary. I mean, if these guys have been around for days and not done anything to you so far, then, there's no reason to expect that they would... unless you were a witness. So be careful but don't be afraid. If you see them, call me right away. Your stuff is not on the back burner anymore. For some reason, you're involved in what I've been tracking off and on for the last year. I hope you're just an innocent bystander but I've got to check this out. Hopefully, I'll have at least a few answers by tomorrow."

Joel swallowed and nodded. He wasn't sure about this whole "don't be afraid" thing. He didn't like the way this sounded...and why would he be part of something that Langston was investigating?

"Joel, you want to stay at my place tonight instead?" Jack asked.

Joel shook his head.

"No. I'll just go up to bed. Thanks, Jack."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"Yeah. I'm sure."

Langston nodded and led him out of the bar and the two steps it took to get to the stairs leading up to his apartment. The door was locked but Langston came up and checked everything out before bidding Joel a good night.

Alone, Joel sat on the bed and realized that he was wishing that the man he'd seen before would show up. With a dangerous element from his unknown past showing up, at least the other man had been ambiguous, not instantly seen as dangerous.

There was a knock at the door and he instantly grew tense.

"Yeah?"

"Joel, it's Jack."

Joel let out a loud exhalation and walked to the door. He opened it and smiled a little when he saw Jack standing there with a plate of food.

"I know you're probably not hungry right now, but you should eat something and then save the rest. Most of this stuff will warm up pretty good."

"Thanks, Jack. For everything."

"You're welcome, and I mean it. If you want to stay somewhere else, my place is free and it's better than this place."

"No. I'd rather stay here."

"All right. See you tomorrow."

"Okay. Thanks."

Joel took the plate and closed the door. Jack was right. He should eat something. With a sigh, he picked out a couple of things from the plate and packed the rest of it away. He ate without noticing any taste. Then, he went to bed.

...but he didn't really sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was ready. At least he told himself he was ready. He'd spent all day figuring out what to say and what to do. Now, it was getting later and he needed to get back over so that he could hopefully catch Tony before he got into the bar, before he was around anyone who might be stopping him from being honest about what was going on.

And if Ducky was right that Tony could genuinely have forgotten them, well, then, maybe Tim could talk to him enough that he'd get his memory back...or something.

He hadn't described his plan to anyone. He was far too uncertain as it was. He didn't need anyone kibitzing his technique and giving him unwanted suggestions about how it would work better. If this failed, then, he'd reach out.

At least that was what he told himself. He still felt that he needed to do it himself, that this was his responsibility to fix. Not anyone else's.

He took a breath and headed out. As he walked toward the bar, he still felt uncomfortable. He didn't know why this had happened or if his interpretation of what was going on was at all valid. All he knew was that something was wrong.

Determined, Tim walked into the alley behind the bar. It was light enough at the moment that he could see there was a definite second story. There could be an apartment there. Well, he'd wait here as long as no one else came along and told him to stop loitering. There was no real exit from here which made him a little nervous. He didn't like the idea that, if something went spectacularly wrong, he'd have no escape.

That was what he had, though. So he'd deal with it.

He waited around for about half an hour with no sign of anyone. He was starting to get discouraged again, but he was determined to see it through, even as it started growing darker. There were a couple of lights back here, but not many.

Then, suddenly, he heard a voice.

"Well, well, well. We were wondering where you'd slipped off to, Agent McGee."

He spun around and saw two men walking into the alley. He didn't know them... but he'd seen one of them in a photo before. His heart began to pound in his chest. This was not good, but he tried to keep them from knowing how afraid he was.

"Ensign... I thought you were stationed in Norfolk," he said, trying to keep his voice even.

"I'm on leave. Special. Just for me."

"I wasn't aware that ensigns were able to choose their own leave times."

"We're not. But when our commanding officer gives us the time off, we take it and no one can say anything against it."

"Your commanding officer... is Captain Blaine."

Ensign Lloyd Thomas grinned and glanced at his silent companion.

"That's correct."

"Who's your friend?" Tim asked.

"No one you'd know. You didn't get that far."

"So we would have?" Tim asked, cursing anew that the computer they'd been using had been wiped and the flash drive they'd used as backup was missing.

"Probably. You were definitely getting too close for comfort. I'm surprised you're up and about after that fall. Pretty nasty. Even your partner thought you were dead and made a run for it. We should have checked."

"Your mistake."

"And yet, here you are, playing right into our hands. We finally tracked down your partner here and we were told to take care of him. Won't Capt. Blaine be happy to know that we took care of both of you in one night?"

Tim figured that his current lifespan probably could be measured in minutes. However, this guy was enjoying gloating far too much. That could give him a chance to be more in control. But his silent companion was just as worrisome. Hired? Committed? Tim didn't know, but he was probably the one taking orders from Ensign Thomas.

The nameless man pulled out a gun and Tim was ready to die right in that moment, but then, Ensign Thomas put out a hand.

"Wait. We're in LA. Did you know that gang violence is on the rise here? It's one of the reasons we've been able to do so much. We can hide our activities among all the gangs and no one's the wiser."

"Certainly not you," Tim said.

Ensign Thomas' expression hardened.

"How about a vicious gang beating, meant to send a message?" he said. "We can leave behind a tag for... which one should we blame this one on? How long has it been since we used the Sureños?"

"A few months," said his companion softly, speaking for the first time.

"That's right. Okay. We'll use their tag. We'll get started with you and then we can take care of your partner later. His could easily be a home invasion. Then, we'll have both of you out of the way."

Before he was ready, the silent man was on the move. He was fast, and Tim was grabbed and thrown hard against the wall before he had a chance to defend himself.

His head exploded in pain and he staggered, although he did his best to stay awake and aware and on his feet. He fought back weakly, but he could barely see and his head was spinning. Two quick jabs in the stomach had him doubling over and a heavy thwack on his back knocked him to the ground. He pushed himself up on his hands and knees and another hit sent him back to the ground. The sounds were fading, but then, he heard something.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

"Get out of here."

Tim lay on the ground, unable to make himself move or speak or anything. He just lay there limply, idly wondering if that first hit to the head would put him back in a coma or something. He didn't know.

Then, someone was turning him over. He tried to open his eyes and he heard someone swear. The same someone? Who knew?

"Joel! Get down here!"