A/N: Hopefully this will answer a lot of your questions, Alice, though not quite all ofthem! The rest are coming soon - I promise.

Chapter 7

"I was thinking we could make a deal."

"If you cooperate and come peacefully, I could talk to the DA for you."

Don released an involuntary sigh. Okay, Megan. Good opening play.

"No DA. I want you to unblock one side of the road and give me a little time to leave."

"And why would we do that? We're talking about some pretty serious crimes here, Mr. Twilliger."

Twilliger pursed his lips. "It's that, or watch this guy go up in flames."

There was an electric pause. Don squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shift to take some of the pressure off his legs, stilled quickly at the warning stab from the injured leg. Bad. That was a bad one for Megan - an agent under her tactical command was burned to death not that long ago. Tough for her if she had to be responsible for another one…maybe David should field this…or if I could just get my own head together…automatically, he tried to slide his fingers to his holster again. The weight of the car on his leg had it pinned so tightly against the pavement that he could barely brush the gun butt with his fingertips. No wonder Twilliger hadn't bothered with it…

"David?" Megan's voice was steady, but a little higher than usual. Don could hear her over the earpiece, but guessed she had turned her head away from the phone.

"I can't see." David's voice was even, if brittle with tension. "But I can smell gasoline. Don? Can you get out of there at all?"

Don didn't bother to try his leg again, unwilling to risk passing out. "Negative."

He shot a glance at Twilliger. Nice of him to let us have this independent conversation. I know he doesn't want to get close, but why would he risk…?

Twilliger's eyes met his, calm and calculating - watchful. Satisfied. Realization hit Don like a fist to the chest.

Oh. Of course.

Being able to listen might be better for Don, but it was worse for his team - hearing his struggles would make it harder for them to detach - keep cool - make tough decisions. Now, that was a good tactical move - brilliant, even. Well, we knew the guy was smart. He kneaded his forehead and eyes again. His hand came away slick with sweat.

Enough of this. He wasn't going to be used to distract his team and he sure as hell wasn't going to be used to torture them. He set his jaw hard and kept his eyes locked on Twilliger.

Megan's voice hummed in his ear. "Killing a Federal Agent is a pretty serious crime, Twilliger. I don't think you need that added to your record." Don tried to read Megan's state of mind from the tone of her voice.

Twilliger shrugged. "I can only do the death penalty once. All the same to me."

"All right, I don't want you to kill anybody else. Let's see what we can work out. What did you have in mind?"

"I told you." Twilliger sounded patient and patronizing. "You let me drive away and it all ends there."

Yeah, it all ends there. Until burned bodies of tortured women start showing up in some other part of California or another state…Don dug his hand into the blacktop under his hip again. Cinders bit into his knuckles, scraping the skin raw, but this time he managed to brush his thumb over the gun's handgrip, the germ of an idea starting. Not a brilliant idea, he admitted to himself, but those seemed to be in pretty short supply right now. This one was seriously flawed, because firing a gun around leaking gasoline wasn't all that much better than Twilliger's lighter - a little like playing Russian roulette. But any chance at this point was better than no chance. He didn't need one of Charlie's equations to tell him that his odds of surviving this day weren't looking so hot. He had serious doubts about Twilliger leaving him alive no matter what he said, and even if Twilliger did play it straight, he had no illusions at all about his own physical state. His heart thudded against his sternum, rapid and uneven, and his skin felt hot and cold at the same time. Shock. Not like he didn't recognize the symptoms. How long did he have before they became fatal? Can't remember. Not a good sign.

Twilliger seemed to have forgotten him to focus on his telephone conversation with Megan. Good. He nudged at the handgrip and thought he felt some give. Progress? Maybe. But he had to stop to take a rest. Funny how such a little thing could take so much out of him. The thought of all the other steps he would have to complete to make this work - pulling the gun free, releasing the safety, lifting, aiming, firing - things he normally did without even thinking - seemed suddenly overwhelming. He puffed out a series of short breaths. One thing at a time. Step by step.

The world was rocking around him now, darkening on the periphery. He closed his eyes to settle it, but when he opened them again, things were no better. He realized he had lost part of the conversation between Megan and Twilliger and a thin thread of panic shivered along his spine. He was running out of time. If he didn't do something soon, he wouldn't have to worry about Twilliger's lighter, because the fire burning inside him would consume him first. He tried to force his hand in deeper, winced as he felt flesh peel away against the warm tar. But he was able to touch the trigger guard. Good. Something to hold onto. He saw Twilliger glance his way and froze.

"…let us discuss it for a minute. Then we'll get right back to you."

Megan. Well, they seemed to have come to some kind of an agreement…

"You've got a minute and a half." Twilliger pulled out a fancy watch and studied it. Double freak. "After that, I'll decide for you."

000

Megan reluctantly turned off the phone and lowered it, glancing at the LAPD officer on her right. She wasn't sure she really wanted Don to hear this conversation, but it wasn't like she had a lot of choice about it, because she needed David and Wainwright to. "I don't see that we have a lot of options," she said flatly.

The officer next to her frowned. "What about a SWAT team?"

"I thought of that, but where would we put them? No buildings, no trees even. No place to plant a sniper, even if we didn't want Twilliger alive."

"How about a chopper?"

She made a face. That must be Jeffries.

David answered before she could. "He'd hear them coming a mile away. He'd torch the place before they could even get close. This might have been the perfect setup for us, but it is for him too, for the same reasons. I don't see that we have any choice either. Wainwright?"

Megan was silent, listening. That was the man they all wanted to hear from. To come so close after twenty years, and then to see it all go up in smoke…literally. That mental image was almost too much for her, and she pressed a hand over her mouth and fought for composure.

"I don't know what else we can do either." Wainwright's voice was slow and steady. "A stray spark from that lighter as it drops or from the barrel of a fired gun or a ricocheted bullet and the whole place ignites in a second. Sacrificing one of our own isn't going to help. We can follow his instructions, but then be ready to peel out after him as soon as he's clear of the car. And THEN would be the time to call the chopper - to track him. And the EMTs. You want to be ready to act fast, though - he's not planning to let Agent Eppes live - I guarantee that."

Megan folded her arms around herself. "That's what I think too."

Her cell phone shrilled and she glanced automatically at the readout. It said "Don". If only it really was Don, she thought wretchedly. Never mind, this wasn't the time to be thinking of that. She hit the button and brought it to her ear.

"Your time is up. Have you reached a decision?"

God, she had come to hate that voice. "We have." She glanced in the direction where she knew both David and Don were, wishing she could see them. "Just tell us what you want us to do."

TBC