Chapter 12: The Roundabout Route


"Liz."

Her eyes swept up from the desk surface she'd been contemplating. Sam's voice was hushed, even though at the moment the Bullpen was deserted; everyone was out trying to come up with a lead. Lucy had been in and out a dozen times already, coordinating everyone's findings and making sure they'd have everything they needed once a lead came up.

Sam's eyes were lit with hope as he leaned forward in Bobby's chair. "He's awake."

She bolted upright in the chair. "Can you figure out—?"

He raised a hand to cut her off. "Nope. I got a flash of 'awake' a few minutes ago, along with a feeling of disorientation— his headache's worse than mine was— then he must have caught it and put the wall back up."

Elizabeth thought about that for a second. "He has no way of knowing what's going on, and he doesn't realize we're here with the team."

"Right." Sam's shoulders lifted and fell in a deep sigh. "And because of that, he's going to keep that wall up, and there's nothing I can do."

"So why don't you just call him, Doc? At this point, what can it hurt?"

Sam and Liz both turned quickly; everyone had pretty much forgotten that Howie was still there, since he'd been leaned back in Jack's chair with an ice pack over his eyes since they'd returned to the Bullpen. Now the snitch had moved over to lean his hands on the spot where the agents' desks met.

The psychologist looked at him steadily for a moment. "Howie, if I call his cell phone, which has likely been confiscated, what makes you think I'll get to talk to him?"

The devious little grin that crossed Howie's face made her nervous. "Because if you can keep whoever you get talking long enough, we can track down where the phone is networking from." He straightened and put his hands in his pockets. "I happen to have watched Tara do it enough times; it should be a snap."

Sam grabbed his arm before he could get two steps. "And you think Tara isn't going to hang you up by your thumbs if she comes back and finds you at her computer? I don't even go near her alter-ego."

Howie glanced at him. "You know, it's well-and-truly weird to be staring 'Myles' in the face and not hearing that proper Harvard vocabulary. Kinda refreshing, though."

"Don't mess with me, Howie," Sam replied easily. "I know all about you, from both my brother and Tara, and I can con you right back if I have to. You're not going to distract Tara by screwing up her computer, and that's final."

"Maybe we don't need to trace it." Elizabeth had been thinking hard all through their little exchange. "If— and I'll grant it's a big if— we can manage to talk to Myles, he'll probably be able to discreetly drop some clue to where he is, if he knows. If we don't get a chance to talk to him, then I'm sure he can come up with an explanation as to why I called in the first place. Howie's right— at this point, I don't think it can hurt."


&
Kyle prodded Myles into what used to be the music room of the school; several wide steps at one end of the room created tiers for once-budding musicians to see their conductor. He motioned the agent to a chair, then made a show of pulling something out of his jacket pocket. Myles heart skipped once as he realized it was his own wallet, and his face darkened as he watched the younger man remove a photograph and smirk.

"You know, this lady really is something else. How'd you manage to snag her, anyway?" He waved the photo of Elizabeth in the air as his comrades snickered.

Myles refused to give Kyle the pleasure of a reaction. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to go through other people's things without asking first?" he asked evenly.

"Well, it obviously wasn't your stunning repartee." Kyle was rifling through the rest of the wallet's contents. "No picture of the hot little number I met in the pub? I'm disappointed."

Myles refrained from responding to the slur against Tara; instead, he started saving up each comment, fully intending to shove them each right back down this immature twit's throat the first chance he got. Instead, he glanced around the room, feigning a boredom he certainly didn't feel. "You could have come up with better accommodations."

Suddenly, he spotted a music stand lying on its side about five feet from his chair, the inexpensive kind used in music rooms clear up to the hallowed halls of Harvard. A small gold-colored paper label read "Property of Lincoln Elementary, Arlington." I know where this school is; I've driven past it on the way to Grandmother's. It took all his control not to react, but rather fixed a steely glare on Kyle.

The young man gave it right back to him. "I don't think you're in any position to be griping about the digs, Fed," he hissed. "You likely ain't gonna be around to see that pretty little dish of yours again."

"Kyle, grow up already." A new voice, polished even through its youthful tenor, brought heads around.

Myles' attention riveted on this new arrival, lounging in the doorway; the reactions of the others told him this was the leader, the guy they'd been waiting for. All right, here we go. Time to build up a little psychology profile.

The man was perhaps 20, but he had one of those faces that would guarantee he'd look forever younger than he truly was. Medium height, slight of build, with dark-framed glasses that gave him a scholarly air, he looked like he could have walked off any Ivy League campus that afternoon. He probably did, Myles thought sourly, They just don't screen applicants like they used to.

"Well, well, Agent Leland. It would appear that we have a bit of a dilemma. I do hope Kyle and his cohorts weren't overly rough on you. He tends to get a little too involved in his work." The young man glared at his lieutenant.

Myles repressed a smirk; it seemed he wasn't the only one who felt like making Kyle a permanent part of the architecture. "My colleagues?" he asked evenly.

"I'm sure they were collected by the rest of your team," was the reply. "We felt that too many witnesses to our little operation would be detrimental, so we left them and played a little game of hide-and-seek to ensure no one followed you." He strolled over to a chair, turned it around and straddled it, folding his arms and leaning on the back. "How rude of me. I am Simmons. I run this lucrative enterprise, but I'm sure you already figured that out."

And the fact that you're telling me all this lets me know that you have no qualms about leaving me here dead when you all vacate this place, which you will surely do now unless the team can find me. Lovely…

The ringing of a cell phone broke into his thoughts, and Simmons' introduction. The young man's hand went automatically to his hip, but Myles realized with a start that the ring tone was his. He looked around, finally noticing it sitting atop the dilapidated piano.

Simmons rounded on his lieutenant. "You idiot! Why'd you leave his phone on?" Snatching the cell off the piano, he looked at the caller ID, then lanced a glare at Myles. "Who's E. Dillingham? One of your fellow agents?"

The reaction was impossible to conceal, as shocked as he was. What on earth is Elizabeth calling me for? She must know by now… "She—" His voice caught as an idea flashed into his mind, and he had to swallow before he could finish the sentence.

Simmons had a .45 in his face before Myles could even blink twice. "I don't think you want to mess with me at this point, Leland. Who is she?"

"She's my wife."

"Your wife? You expect me to believe that when the ID says Dillingham instead of Leland? You don't strike me as the type to marry an 'emancipated woman.' Try again, quickly if you please." The gun moved fractionally closer and Simmons cocked the hammer.

Myles stared him down, though his heart was going like a jackhammer. "She's a clinical psychologist with an established practice, so she kept her maiden name. We've only been married a couple of months. She knows that if I'm working I'll simply answer and tell her she has the wrong number. If I don't answer it, she'll get suspicious." He glanced at Kyle, a smug smile touching his lips. "And before you ask, I don't generally wear my wedding ring when I'm undercover, and November to January doesn't make for much of a tan line."

The phone continued ringing; Simmons stared at the agent for another long minute. Then he hit the "Send" button. "Special Agent Leland's new answering service," he sneered.

In the Bullpen, Elizabeth sat up in Myles' chair quickly. "Who is this?" she demanded.

Simmons chuckled. "Your husband's new secretary. He's… unavoidably detained at the moment."

Okay, Liz. Think. For some reason Myles told them we're already married. Just play along. She tried and failed to keep a tremor out of her voice. "Then I suppose I shouldn't expect him home anytime soon?"

"No," was the reply. "In fact, I'd extend that 'anytime soon' considerably. He's in a fair amount of misfortune right now, and I really don't see any satisfactory way out for all parties involved. I suppose you like to speak with him?" Simmons eyed Myles with a gleeful expression, taunting them both.

Elizabeth ignored the looks she was getting from Sam and Howie, and played her role exactly as she was expected to. "Please," she said, bringing a note of desperation into her voice. He wants to hear me beg, I'll make him happy, just as long as he puts Myles on the phone… "We've only been married—"

"Two months, yeah, I heard." Simmons looked at Myles for another long moment. The agent didn't move, but he allowed a hint of longing to come into his eyes. It was exactly what the young man wanted, and it brought a wide grin to his face. "Tell you what, Dr. Dillingham-Leland. I'm in a generous mood. And since it's highly unlikely you'll be seeing your man alive again, I'll grant you a brief goodbye."

"Oh, thank you!" The sob in her voice combined with the fire Sam saw in her eyes made him laugh silently.

At the school, Simmons motioned Kyle into position with his gun, and stepped toward Myles with the phone held out. "I think you know what not to say," he snapped, "because I'm going to be listening the entire time. I'd really hate for your new wife to hear the sound of you grinding out your last breath after the roar of a gunshot."

Myles nodded mutely. Love, I hope your intuitive skills are up and running, because this is the only chance we've got of still making it to that altar. And, if this works, we'll deal with why you're involved when I get home.


&


Where IS everyone? Elizabeth knew that whatever was said in the next few minutes would be crucial.

"Sweetheart?"

"Myles, are you okay?"

A soft laugh was the reply. "Well, I suppose that would depend on your perspective."

Just then, Bobby and Tara walked in, engrossed in conversation. Elizabeth grabbed the Koosh-ball Sam had been toying with and threw a perfect fastball that caught the Aussie square in the chest. As he looked up, she motioned quickly and then fingerspelled M-Y-L-E-S. His jaw dropped and they both came running. Sam filled them in with a hurried whisper as Elizabeth turned back to the phone.

"Bad timing, huh?"

Again the ironic laugh. "You could say that. Now I'm starting to wish I'd never given up teaching." His voice was so casual she almost missed it.

She paused slightly. He was never a teacher. What's he trying to tell me? She grabbed a pencil and the legal pad from his "in" box and quickly wrote teacher. "I would imagine, from the timbre of the voice I just heard. Missing the old place, huh?" Bobby was at her side now, his ear up close so he could hear as well.

"Basically. Ms. Holmes is looking pretty good about now." He'd placed the slightest emphasis on the words "basic" and "Holmes."

Her pencil flew across the paper. Basic... simple... Holmes… elementary! Teacher! An elementary school! A quick glance at Bobby had his agreement.

"I can see why she would," she replied gently.

"Yeah, her and Maggie Grandin, who was instrumental in getting me hired there."

The pencil flew again. Maggie...Grandin...Grand...'Grand Maggie'… okay... Again, a brief emphasis, this time on "instrumental." Instrumental...Grand Maggie... instrumental…instrument! The violin! A music room! But which school? She looked up at four sets of very wide eyes, all showing the same spark of excitement.

"Guess I should let you get back to work, huh?" She knew she had to keep it short or his captors would get suspicious.

"Yes, I think that might be wise. Oh, would you remind Bobby that he still owes me a five?"

Bobby gave Elizabeth a puzzled look and shook his head. She jotted down five…$5?

She sighed. "All right, my love. Take care, please."

Another brief laugh under his breath. "I'll try. I love you, princess." The phone clicked off, and she stared at it for a moment.

Then her head snapped up to Bobby again. "He never calls me princess."

"It's another clue," Bobby replied. "Has to be. Five? Wait...Lincoln's picture is on the five-dollar bill! Tara!"

"Lincoln Elementary, coming up." She was already at her laptop, with Sam looking intently over her shoulder. Howie, wisely, had returned to Jack's chair and just watched the action with quiet interest.

"There's three within a twenty-mile radius, Bobby."

Elizabeth thought for a minute. "Are any of them on or near a street named Princess, or Princessa, or something to do with royalty?"

The tap of keys. "Yes. It's been closed for several years, but Ted Lincoln Elementary is at the corner of 25th and Princessa, in Arlington."

Sam pointed at the map on her computer screen. "That's right on the route to Grand Maggie's. He's driven past it a hundred times or more."

"That's got to be it," Bobby said, already dialing his cell. "Jack! We've got a lead...meet us at 24th and Princessa in Arlington." He paused just long enough to give Elizabeth's arm a squeeze. "You're probably gonna get yelled at when we get him back to you, sheila. But thanks – nice job."

She smiled. "Just bring him home safe, ok? Then he can yell at me all he wants. Sam and I will get out of your way now."

"Good deal." The Aussie grinned, and leaned closer to murmur in her ear. "Do me a favor? Take Howie with you."


&
Simmons sighed as he made sure the phone was off, then tossed it back atop the piano. "I'm disappointed," he said, turning back to face Myles. "Newlyweds, yet such a calm farewell. Not much of a romantic, are you?"

"She knows the kind of work I do, and the kind of people I'm forced to deal with." Myles folded his arms across his chest and stretched his legs out to cross at the ankles, giving the young man a contemptuous glare. "We don't lay our relationship out in front of any two-bit hood who happens to want a little entertainment. She knows how I feel, and that's enough."

"Touching," Kyle chimed in. "And if you think any part of this operation is 'two-bit,' you're dumber than you look."

Myles smirked, and looked back at Simmons. "Good help is so hard to find these days."

Simmons just rolled his eyes and turned to Kyle. "Start getting everyone organized. We need to filter out of here slowly, so no one gets suspicious. Take these guys and divide up the stash; keep track of who has what, because if I find any of it missing when we reach our new destination, your head rolls first. Do I make myself clear?"

"Totally, boss." The fear in Kyle's eyes reinforced his loyalty. "What about you? I ain't keen on leaving you here alone with this James Bond-wannabe."

The leader smiled. "Then tie him up before you leave. We have a few more items to discuss. Let me know when things are underway."

Kyle grinned as he grabbed a rope and bound Myles' hands behind his back, looping the rope through the chair at the same time. "You know," he murmured, pulling the rope tighter than he really needed to, "I hope Simmons gives me the satisfaction of being the one to plant a bullet right between your eyes before we leave. It would totally make my day."

The agent turned his head so he was inches from the young man's face. "You don't get out much, do you?"

Kyle drew back a fist, until Simmons' voice stopped him short. "Kyle, I gave you an assignment, didn't I? You can play later, if I decide there's time. Get moving." He waited until the room emptied, then straddled the chair again. "It really is a shame we have to be on opposite teams, Agent Leland. I think we'd make a formidable team."

Myles grinned amiably. "Aww, you're just saying that because you got saddled with an idiot for a lieutenant. How'd you figure out we were onto you, anyway?" He wished whole-heartedly for a recorder right now, but he wanted to know just the same.

"I've known for some time now." Simmons leaned on his crossed arms once more. "I knew when Artemis disappeared. He was too engrossed in the idea of 'relieving those of their treasure who are too weak to bear the burden' to just vanish. The only explanation was that he'd been arrested. And, since you were his contact…"

"Then why the game? You had to have known the risk you were taking. Why not simply pull up stakes then?"

There was a cold glitter in the brown eyes. "You just said it. The game. You see, there's a certain rush in knowing you're playing an FBI agent for a fool. The world's greatest law-enforcement agency… tell me, how did you end up there?"

The slur touched a nerve, but Myles refused to let him see it. "Just lucky, I guess. And what makes you think there aren't fifty other agents outside right now, just waiting for the chance to bust in here and shut you down?"

Now Simmons stood and walked up to the agent, leaning down into his face. "Because," he hissed, "we've got detectors set up all around the school grounds and at strategic locations on the way here. Your friends would set off a dozen alarms before they got to the gate out there. You see, Agent Leland, I don't like to lose, and I don't start an enterprise without covering all my bases. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a relocation to supervise. I'll send Kyle back just before we leave; he so wants the opportunity to bid you farewell personally."

The door swung shut on silent hinges.


&
Monday, 12 midnight

Fortunately, the FBI wasn't exactly a slouch in the area of "detector detecting;" Bobby turned to Jack and tossed him the wire-cutters. "That's the last of it, Jack. We have a clear path to the school grounds."

"Tara?" Jack put the tool in one of the storage bins in the control center van.

The petite agent was at her laptop, collecting data from the scanners D and Sue were using to survey the school grounds from just outside. "Same type of stuff, Jack. Motion detectors spaced evenly along the fence, around windows and doors… someone wasn't taking any chances."

The unit leader sighed. "Too bad we can't just hit the whole place with an EMP and take everything out in one shot."

Bobby chuckled. "Yeah, and every piece of electronic equipment within a quarter-mile radius. Electromagnetic pulses are great, but you can't control them very well. Fortunately," he added with a grin, "you have on your team a master of stealth and electronic wizardry. You find me the control panel, we'll be in before you can say 'didgeridoo.'

Jack rolled his eyes and was about to comment when D's voice rang across the radio. "We've got movement, Jack. Looks like the beginning of a convoy. They're bugging out."

"That pretty much confirms that they've been tipped off," Jack replied. "But we still don't know where Myles is, or if the ringleader is there. D, tell SOG to wait until the truck gets out of sight of the school, then very quietly take them. If any more vehicles come out, do the same thing. Let's round the minions up first."

"You got it."

D's voice continued in Jack's ear as he turned to Bobby. "All right, 'Houdini,' let's see you work your magic. Otherwise, you might have to break in a new desk-mate."

"Don't tempt me," Bobby grinned. "Tara, you find their power source?"

"Yup." She pointed at the blueprint of the school laid out next to her computer. "Right here, by the south entrance."

"All right," Jack said. "Get teams in position to go in as soon as the juice goes down. We know Myles is, or was, being held in the music room, here. We move in ten minutes."


&
One nice thing about old schools— things tended to be in even greater disrepair than when kids were running around. Myles had found the break in the metal chair support about thirty seconds after Simmons had walked out of the room, and now he worked the rope across it as his mind raced through the situation. The idea of having to be "rescued" sat about as well with him as having Kyle come back and put a bullet in his head.

The team's out there. He was sure of that; the conversation with Elizabeth couldn't have gone better, and he knew she'd have been on the phone to someone as soon as Simmons cut them off. And I'll surrender to Randy before I sit here and wait for D, or worse, Bobby.

After a few minutes, he heard the distant roar of a truck pulling away from the school. Given the estimate of the load Simmons and his group had already taken in, and a ballpark speculation of their numbers, Myles figured there would be no more than three fair-sized trucks. If they'd been using a semi, a single trip would have done it, but Simmons had made it a point to tell Kyle to divide up the take; that meant they were using considerably smaller vehicles.

Nylon rope was harder to saw through than cotton, but a sharp metal edge worked for either; ten minutes' total work had him free and pulling the ropes off his hands. Myles was about to retrieve his gear and try to break the door open; then he stopped.

Hold on a second. Kyle's coming back here before they bug out completely. And the team will be in here at some point soon—if I'm out wandering the halls, the odds increase exponentially of getting myself shot by mistake. Better to just sit tight and take down Kyle when he gets back.

The fact that it would give him immense satisfaction to personally shove the halfwit up against a wall and read him his rights was a thought Myles tried not to dwell on too heavily. It smacked of a personal vendetta, and that was dangerous. That he almost hoped Kyle would take a swing at him was a thought he chose not to entertain at all.

Still, a sly grin couldn't stay off his face as he pictured it.


&
Kyle paused at the door to the music room, savoring the sight before him. Agent Leland was seated in the chair, arms bound, his head dropped onto his chest in a posture of defeat. Make way for the rising generation, "Gramps;" Simmons says youth and skill are the means to success these days.

He pushed open the door, a broad grin lighting his face. "So, Agent Leland. Ready to admit defeat before you meet your Maker?"

Myles lifted his head slowly. "At least I won't have to put up with your atrocious attempts at wit anymore."

"You know, it's really a shame that your precious wife will be all alone now." Kyle sauntered up to Myles' side and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Tell you what; as soon as we get settled, I'll head over there and pay my respects to the grieving widow."

Instead of the growl Kyle expected, he heard a low chuckle instead. Still, the blue-grey eyes were filled with anger as he replied. "My wife goes with me to the shooting range, Kyle. And she's quite competent in defending herself." And that won't be a fabrication just as soon as I get home.

"That'll just make it all the more challenging," the young man replied with a smirk, "And I do love a challenge." He brought his gun up to Myles' temple. "Goodbye, Agent Leland."

He never even cocked the hammer before a flash of movement had him flat on his stomach with a knee planted firmly in his back and his own gun trained on him. Myles leaned over slightly and murmured in Kyle's ear as D's team came through the door.

"You know what they say, Kyle: 'Old age and treachery will overcome youth and skill every time.' You are under arrest."


&
Dillingham Residence, Georgetown

Tuesday, 15 January, 6 am

He should have gone straight home to get some sleep himself, but found himself in her driveway before he'd even realized it, and let himself in with his key. He watched her for a moment, asleep.

He'd been ready to lace into her, until the debriefing told him what had really happened. Now he was more determined than ever to make sure she could take care of herself if something similar ever happened again. But he couldn't bring himself to even be exasperated with her right now, not when they'd come so close yet again to losing everything.

Elizabeth stirred as his fingers drifted across her face. "Mmmm… hi, love," she murmured softly, her eyes still closed. Then the green eyes flew open; she turned over, and gasped as she saw him. "Myles?"

He ran his fingers through her dark hair, smiling. "Good morning, sweetheart."

She sat up and flung herself into warmth of his embrace. He took her by the shoulders and kissed her gently, savoring her for a long moment. Then he drew back, and his hands slid to her arms as they tightened over her skin. The blue-grey eyes held an edge of fire.

"Don't you EVER pull a stunt like that again, do you hear me?"

Her smile told him she'd been expecting this reaction. "Myles, I was seated at your desk when I made that call. I never truly expected to get through."

His brows furrowed. "What were you doing in the Bullpen?" He'd already heard it all from Bobby, but he wanted to hear it from her as well.

Elizabeth sighed. "That, my love, is a bit of a long story." She slid over and made room for him next to her, leaning back against the headboard. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable, and I'll tell you all about it."

His frown softened into a sly grin. "The only reason that's a safe move is because you opted for flannel pajamas last night." Tossing his overcoat and suit coat on the nearby chair, and removing his shoes, he settled himself and gathered her against his side. "So, enlighten me."

Fifteen minutes later, Elizabeth laid her head on his shoulder as he laughed softly. "So I have Howie to thank for my continued sojourn on this planet. I don't think I can handle that." His voice was soft and drowsy.

She laughed as well. "Just try not to think about it. Now, I need to get up and get ready for a very full schedule today. You sound exhausted; do you think you can make it home awake, or would you rather stretch out here and save me having to make the bed?"

There was no answer; Elizabeth looked up to find him already asleep. Carefully extricating herself from his arms, she moved aside and let him relax down onto the pillow. She drew the quilt up over him, and brushed her hand across his hair as she gently kissed his cheek.

"Sleep well, brave knight," she whispered. "You've earned it."