NOTES: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you for the beta, Rodlox!
SPOILERS: through Mommy's Bosses/season two
DISCLAIMER: The 4400 and all things associated with it belong to other people.
NOT ALONE
Part 3
With Brady on his heels, Marco made his way from the parking garage to the Theory Room, forcibly making the mental transition from crime victim to crime solver. Worrying about Diana and Maia just then wouldn't do anyone any good.
"I need you to dig up everything you can on Carl Olmstead." He passed Brady a business card from Diana's building. "This guy's one of them, and he recently bought condo 413 at that address." Hastily unlocking the door, he quickly moved to his desk to tap his computer's on button. Then he picked up his phone. "I want everything on this guy--phone records, loan information, family history-"
"Marco, I know what to do."
Pausing, phone in hand, he turned and blinked at his colleague. "Right. Sorry. Thanks."
Brady's eyes were drawn to the left side of Marco's face, but if there were visible bruises, he didn't say anything. With a nod, Marco turned to his computer, attaching his memory stick with one hand while dialing Tom's office phone with the other.
"Marco." There was no question in Tom's voice.
"Hey, Tom. Brady and I just got here." Reaching over to Lee's desk, he turned on the computer. "We're warming up a computer for you. Mind joining us down here?"
"Be there in a minute."
The line went dead, then Marco's cell phone rang. It was Tom, again.
"Based on traffic camera footage, it looks like they headed north."
"Yeah, that's what the cops said." Marco began flicking through the security camera footage from Diana's building, trying to get a good shot of one of the kidnapper's faces. They were all wearing baseball caps, so he wasn't having much luck. "You get a license plate number?"
"Yeah, but other than using it for an APB, it's all but useless." In the background, the elevator dinged. "The truck was a rental, paid for in cash. The IDs used to rent it are bogus. It dropped off the camera grid near a business park about ten miles from Diana's place. I think they changed vehicles." There was another ding, and Marco could hear the elevator doors opening down the hall. "What I don't understand is how these guys got past Adams and the doorman in the first place." The line went dead, again, as Tom walked in the door, cell phone in one hand, a thermos in the other. After one look at Marco's face, Tom stopped dead in his tracks, eyebrows crawling toward his hairline.
Not wanting to discuss his appearance, Marco gestured to Lee's desk. "They took out Adams."
That caused both Brady and Tom to gape at him. Holding up his hands, Marco elaborated, "I saw them put him in an ambulance; he was out but not dead. Nina said she'd check on him." Turning back to his computer, he continued, "They were dressed as Sears appliance people, and this Olmstead in 413...he told the security guy he'd been expecting them. Then Olmstead knocked him out before he could react to the appliance being delivered to the wrong condo. I'm trying to get a good shot of one of them so I can run it through the face-recognition program."
"I'm working on Olmstead," supplied Brady, no doubt so Tom wouldn't duplicate his efforts.
"This guy rent or own?"
"Own." Marco glanced over to see a speculative expression on Tom's face. "Why?"
"My ex-wife's a realtor; she might know something we can't get from the records." He turned to Brady with a snap and a pointed finger. "Do you have the realtor's name?"
"Just getting it now...Rachel Chang."
Pulling out his cell, Tom dialed and walked into the hall.
"He's fun to work with," muttered Brady unenthusiastically.
"Yeah, well...it's results that count, right?"
Marco tried to concentrate on his own efforts, skimming through the footage, one camera at a time, but his lack of immediate success was wearing on him. Having to watch the bastards as they took Maia didn't make it any easier to concentrate. From outside, Tom's voice would occasionally rise with emphasis, allowing Marco and Brady to catch snatches of the conversation. There was a "What does Kyle have to do with this?" and a "We're talking about a little girl's life!" At one point, he popped his head into the room. "The cops just found the truck abandoned. They're checking out the area and trying to get the private security camera footage, see if they can spot another vehicle leaving."
After a few more minutes, Tom came back in. "She's going to check on a few things for us." Twisting off the cap of the thermos, he popped it open, letting the scent of fresh coffee waft across the room. "Alana thought we could use some decent coffee. You guys want any?"
Brady had already fished his mug from a drawer, absently holding it out as he focused on the data on his screen. "Thanks."
Rinsing his mug with the mostly-drunk bottle of water he'd left on his desk the day before, Marco held it out for his own measure of the dark liquid. It was too late at night to be drinking coffee, even some as good as that which Tom's significant other had brewed, but he could deal with the repercussions to his stomach later. For the time being, alertness and attentiveness were absolute necessities, and in that, coffee was his staunchest ally. "Thanks, Tom. There's sugar and creamer over there, if you need it." He nodded in the direction of the Theory Room's mini-fridge, microwave and coffee maker tower hidden behind P.J.'s desk.
"I'm good." Tom sipped his coffee and moved behind Marco, looking over his shoulder. "Anything?"
"Other than the general height, build, gender and race information we already have? No."
"What about that reflection in the elevator doors?" As the men approached the elevator in the lobby, there was a fairly good shot of one of them around the side of the refrigerator box.
"I've already tried it. There's not enough light or clarity to let the contrast protocols do anything meaningful." It was more than frustrating that the new security system--the one he had recommended--could be foiled by something as simple as baseball caps.
Tom returned to Lee's desk, and for a time, they worked in silence. Then Brady led out an awed, "Well, I'll be damned."
Happy to take a break from his own fruitless search, Marco joined Tom behind Brady's chair.
"This Olmstead guy? It's not an alias." He pointed a skinny finger at a particular window on the screen. "That's his real name. And while he used his own money to buy the condo, he recently opened an account in Switzerland into which a third party has been depositing nine grand a day for the last three months."
"So he's definitely working for someone else," observed Marco.
"Well, you know what they say about trying to catch a crook..." began Tom.
"Always follow the money," they chorused.
After contacting Nina to have her issue a lookout for Olmstead at the border, airports, bus stations and ferry landings, Tom joined Brady in his quest to figure out where the money had come from. Nina let them know Adams had been pistol-whipped and had a concussion but was otherwise unharmed. At least these people seemed intent on not killing anyone.
As nice as it would be to catch Olmstead and find out who hired him, Marco couldn't help but believe neither would prove very useful in figuring out where Maia was. IDing one of the kidnappers, however, would probably help tremendously. It was in the elevator camera footage that he finally caught something that might be useful--a tattoo on one of the men's necks, just visible as he turned his head to talk with the man behind him. Tom must have somehow sensed his sudden excitement, for he left his desk to look over Marco's shoulder again.
"Isn't Diana's sister a tattoo artist?" Tom wondered aloud.
"Yeah." Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed her up, but she didn't answer. "She's not picking up."
"You know her phone number?"
"Had to call her to get her up here." Marco shrugged.
"She's at Diana's?"
Glancing at his watch, he realized it was after midnight, that Maia had been in the hands of her abductors for four hours. Pushing that thought aside, along with all the emotions that went with it, he answered, "Should be by now."
"I'll call Alana."
Curious, he spun in his chair to face Tom as the special agent made his own call. "How will that help?"
"She insisted on going to Diana's." Apparently, Ms. Mareva was answering her cell; Tom turned away and began pacing. "Okay." Apparently, Ms. Mareva also had a lot to report to Tom, who was making a circular motion with his free hand as though to speed her along. "Okay. Look, is Diana's sister there?" Nodding, Tom continued, "I need you to give her the phone. I'll explain later. Good." Turning back, he handed his cell to Marco.
It was a bit surreal. Although sharing a phone was no big deal to most people, Tom had only grudgingly shared an NTAC sedan to Abendson Hospital to see Tess Doerner's tower, let alone something as personal as his own phone. Shaking off the bewilderment that passed through him, Marco turned his attention to the person on the other end of the line.
"Hello?" Maia's aunt sounded puzzled and a tiny bit vexed.
"Hey, it's Marco. Glad you got there all right."
"I'm so glad I came." There was worry in her hushed voice. "I've never seen her like this."
Doing his best to ignore the curl of dread and heartache that threaded through him with those words, he clarified his intent. "I didn't call to ask about Diana."
"You didn't?"
"One of the kidnappers has a tattoo..." If she had half the brains of her sister, Marco didn't need to waste time dragging her to the obvious conclusion. "Can your cell deal with photos?"
"Oh! I turned it off on the plane. Yeah, send it to me; I'll see what I can find out." She said something to someone else then spoke to him again. "In the meantime, you can find all the tattoo links you might need on my live journal. I'll PM you if I find anything useful."
"Good luck."
"You, too."
Closing the phone and absently handing it back to Tom with a "Thanks," Marco sent the cleaned up image to April's phone and began surfing through the links in her live journal, posting the tattoo in every forum he could find.
Apparently April had a remarkable network and knew how to use it, even in the middle of the night. While Marco had only gotten one name--that of a teen in Florida--in under an hour, April managed to dig up a dozen names of people on the West Coast with that tattoo on their necks. Dumping the names into NTAC's link to the DHS' database, they came up with two with criminal records. The one from California answered his land-line, which left David Slowinski, a resident of Oregon. Tom had Nina to put out an APB for the man then dug through traffic footage, looking for the suspect's white Bronco. As hopeful as they had been about this new lead, neither Tom nor the cops could find any evidence of Slowinski in Seattle.
In the meantime, Brady had dug through several shell companies until he finally traced Olmstead's money back to a Canadian futures brokerage called Liberty Holdings. This caused them to speculate about the kidnappers' motives. All of them had assumed, despite that no ultimatums had been delivered to Diana, that the people who had taken Maia were intent on stopping Diana's testimony during the trials--and act as an example to others who might be testifying against them. But an initial search found no link between Liberty Holdings and the men behind the promicin inhibitor.
"What is Maia's ability?" wondered Brady.
Marco and Tom exchanged uncertain glances. Diana was very private about the issue, and Tom was private about everything.
The slender genius turned in his chair to give them both a disgruntled look. "It's not like it's a state secret or something. Do I need to pull up her file?"
Tom waved a hand at Marco, as though to let him go first. Resisting the urge to scowl at the man, he focused on his colleague. "Maia's a precog."
"Oh." Behind his glasses, Brady's eyes rounded then narrowed. "Suddenly it makes sense why a brokerage firm would want her."
"And why there's been no ransom note," added Tom with a grim frown.
Marco flipped open his cell and dialed Nina. "We need to make patrolling the border a priority, get the Canadians involved."
Just as Nina picked up, Tom's phone rang, and he moved into the hall to answer it. Shortly before Marco finished updating Nina, Tom bounded back into the room.
"Linda's got something." He hastily grabbed a pen and scribbled on a post-it, holding his phone in place with one shoulder. "Uh-huh," he said to his ex. "Got it. Thanks."
"Uh...do you mind hanging on for a second?" Marco murmured into his cell. "I think we may have another lead."
Stowing his phone in a pocket, Tom pulled the note he'd just made from the pad with a triumphant flourish and handed it to Marco before turning to his computer without sitting down.
The note was an address.
"Chang said she remembered something Olmstead did that was a bit weird," rambled Tom as he divided his attention between his explanation and his keyboard. "He was looking at condos and mountain cabins, claiming he had a relative who was thinking of buying one."
Marco moved to look over Tom's shoulder and found the special agent was digging through police reports from a small town in Snohomish County.
"Apparently, Olmstead was very chatty, asking about the people who owned the cabins, which ones were local, why they were for sale, that sort of thing," continued Tom. "Of the places Chang showed him, only one is still unsold and vacant."
"Are you getting all this?" Marco asked into his phone.
"Yes." If Nina was excited by the prospect, there was no telling from her tone. "Does he have an address?"
"There!" Tom pointed to the screen. "There was a report of lights at odd hours, and the cops questioning a guy who was working on the place. His claim that he was a plumber panned out, but he the company he was working for..."
Brady had joined Marco to peer at Tom's screen. "...is one of Liberty Holdings' shell companies."
"Exactly!" Tom turned and pointed at Marco. "That Nina?"
He passed the phone over with a nod. Tom put it to his ear and started pacing. "I need whoever's on call to head north. I'll be en route in a minute. Yeah." He nodded and took the post-it from Marco's hand. "132 King Lake Drive; it's east of High Rock." He nodded again. "Combs, Harrison and Sanchez. Got it. Let them know I'll be in my car, not an NTAC vehicle, and tell them to wait. I'd rather we outnumber them." One last nod and a "Thanks, Nina" later, Tom snapped the cell shut and handed it back. "Let's go."
Marco was confused. "Go? Us?" He flicked his thumb between himself and his fellow geek.
Tom gave him a baffled look and smacked his shoulder. "Just you, Marco. Someone should keep investigating." He turned his gaze to Brady. "You don't mind, right?"
"Yeah, I'm good here." Brady held up his hands and took a step back from Tom's sudden intensity.
Perhaps if he said it plainly enough, Tom would understand his perplexity. "I'm...not a field agent, Tom."
"What? You think I'm going to put a gun in your hand or something?" The taller man's incredulity was palpable. "You're coming for Maia, Marco. It's not like Diana can be there for her, and she barely knows me."
"Oh." For some reason, he hadn't thought about his involvement at this stage, and the responsibility and obligation he had for Diana's daughter suddenly blindsided him. How could he not have insisted on going? Had Diana's slap so addled his wits that he couldn't put a little girl's emotional needs in front of his own instinct to withdraw? "Right. Let me grab a few things."
"Do it quick," Tom ordered as he closed up his thermos. "Meet you at my car."
Rummaging through the box of freebies from the last technology expo his department had attended, Marco pulled out a flimsy backpack with a Sick Inc. scanner logo on the back and stuffed in a few of the toys they'd picked up as promotional items from various companies--glow-in-the-dark playdoh, a stuffed chameleon, a mini etch-a-sketch and a three-dimensional puzzle. Then he added a couple bottles of water and juice from the 'fridge along with some raisins and nuts he kept in his desk and grabbed a case with one of the office laptops, a satellite internet connection and a charger for the car. Finally, he snagged his NTAC jacket from the coatstand, along with a cardigan he had forgotten in the office a few weeks back--Maia probably hadn't been wearing warm clothes when she was taken.
As he made his way to the door, Brady called out. "Hey! Here!" Marco turned in time to catch a bag of peanut M&M's from Brady's private stash. They were one of Maia's favorites. "Good luck."
The gesture moved him more than he thought possible, and he had to look away for a moment, using the need to add the M&Ms to the backpack as an excuse. "Thanks." He managed to sound completely normal. With a smile and a wave, he left. "Later, Brady."
"You owe me, Pacella!" His colleague's words followed him down the hall.
"I know," he called back.
Juggling the backpack and computer case, Marco slipped on his NTAC jacket and pushed through the door to the garage. Tom had already pulled up to wait for him.
Between the lack of traffic so late at night and Tom's authority to break the speed limit, the drive to High Rock went fairly quickly. Other than Brady's report that Olmstead had been captured trying to cross the border by boat and the discovery that Tom enjoyed opera, it was an uneventful trip. By the time they were approaching the target house, they had been joined by a pair of CIA agents who had apparently been sent once Nina's request for Canadian assistance had passed over the desk of the local head of the DHS.
Between the two agencies, the surveillance equipment was like a technological pissing contest, though Marco was much happier to have an excess as opposed to a deficiency. According to the heat signatures, Maia was in a bedroom by herself, which made their jobs significantly easier. Within minutes, the NTAC and CIA agents had a plan in motion. Left safely with the equipment some fifty yards from the cabin, Marco watched it all play out with a weird sense of detachment, as though the thermal images were no more real than characters in a video game. It was over quickly, with the kidnappers giving up and Maia rescued safely.
Accompanied by an agent, Maia's heat signature separated from the jumble of those in the house and slowly made its way toward him. Unused to feeling impatient, he found himself overwhelmed by a sudden, relentless restlessness that demanded action. So he abandoned the millions in equipment and made his way through the dark woods to meet Maia. At first, he walked, but once he saw her silhouetted against the lights of the cabin, dwarfed by the bulk of Tom's NTAC jacket, he broke into a jog, his body seemingly having a will of its own. When he was close, Maia pulled away from Tom and let Marco pick her up to hold her tight. Only then did he let go of all the worry and doubt and dread that he'd been holding at bay--no precious little girl would be lost because of him! Eyes stinging with the rush of relief that flooded through him, he found himself speechless and all but breathless. It was as though he held his salvation in his arms.
After the intensity of the moment ebbed, Maia whispered in his ear, "It's okay, now."
Pulling back, he looked at her. She had just been rescued from kidnappers, yet she seemed so calm. He, on the other hand, was on the edge of a breakdown. Somehow, it caused him to laugh. "Yeah, I guess it is, huh?"
"Let's go home," she suggested sagely.
"Good idea." Tom smacked Marco on the shoulder, drawing him further from his reverie.
With assurances from Tom that they could leave the rest to the other agents, they piled into his car. Marco took the backseat with Maia, making sure to sit on her left so she the only saw the unbruised side of his face. Blithely abandoning Tom's jacket in favor of Marco's cardigan, Maia pulled up her knees to tuck her legs inside it. Munching M&Ms and drinking grape juice, she told them what had happened. The abduction had been a scary blur, but, shortly after she'd woken up, she'd had a vision of her rescue. That's why she was so calm, though she was worried about her mother. She seemed reassured by the news that Diana was with April. Having called Alana to tell her the good news, Tom added that they had managed to get Diana to go to sleep. Soon, the excitement and sugar buzz wore off, and Maia fell asleep, herself. Just watching her breathe, knowing she was safe, filled him with a deep poignancy his tired, befuddled brain couldn't fathom. Was it how a father might feel?
Marco convinced Tom to drop him off at NTAC, insisting that it didn't matter which one of them took Maia home. Besides, unlike Tom, he didn't have anyone who would be kept up by his absence. The older man seemed intent to voice his opinion on Marco's personal life, but just then Maia woke up and asked where she was, what was happening. So he explained to her he still had some stuff to do and that Tom would take her home. She, too, seemed unconvinced, but he pointed out that the longer they debated the issue, the longer Diana would be waiting. In the end, his resolve was stronger, and he saw them off with a wave and a false smile.
He felt drained and wanted nothing better than to go home and collapse into bed, but he really did have things to do. Returning to the Theory Room, he filled Brady in on all that had happened while he put away his jacket and equipment. Once they'd gotten permission from Nina and shut everything down, Marco offered to buy his colleague breakfast, but Brady wanted to sleep, too.
Setting his iPod to Nirvana, Marco cranked his stereo, letting the music and volume keep him awake as he made his along the freeway. Fortunately, there was still no traffic. He kind of blanked out parking his car in the garage and making his way to his backdoor. But he must have done it because he was crossing the kitchen toward the stairs when his cell phone rang. It was April. Too tired to want to talk, even to Diana's agreeable sibling, he switched the cell to vibrate and hauled himself up the stairs. Before he reached the top, the phone went off, again. This time, it was a text message from her. "Thanks" was all it said. It made him smile.
After visiting the bathroom, he kicked off his shoes, set aside his glasses, pulled off his clothes, crawled into bed and enthusiastically fell into oblivion.