Well, this is obviously not going to be finished before the new season starts like I had hoped, but for the handful of you still reading this, thanks for hanging in there!

Disclaimer and thanks in the prologue.

oooooooooooooooo

Chapter 6
June 5, 2006
6:10 A.M.
Black Tank Wash, Mojave Desert

"It's the edge of the world and all of western civilization; the sun may rise in the East, at least it settles in the final location…"

Don shook his head to clear it. Charlie had left one of his CDs in the Suburban earlier in the week, and he'd popped it into the car on the way out here. Now he remembered why he avoided the Red Hot Chili Peppers; the lyrics would pop back into his head at the most inopportune moments.

Like right now, walking through a rocky gully, chasing a wanted and armed fugitive, with dawn just breaking down here in the depths of the wash. The black, pock-marked rock on the mountainsides spoke of volcanic violence centuries ago, while the scoured hillsides and huge boulders scattered about warned of the power of a past flash flood. Since the area was considered geologically dormant, and since it hadn't rained in several months, Don figured they had nothing to worry about.

Nothing from the landscape, at last. Charlie and Larry had each given him a detailed description of Dominic Koristet's actions, though he was surprised at the amount of slack they were willing to cut a guy who had held them up at gunpoint and stolen their car. Not that they were advocating calling off the search, but they weren't as upset as Don would have been in their situation. Another FBI agent might have attributed it to two academics out of touch with the real world of carjackings and murders, but Don trusted these two witnesses. Which made him wonder if there wasn't more to the story than what either one of them had said, despite what the facts appeared to say.

Ahead of him, Colby held up his hand, and Don came to a halt. The crunch of their footsteps on the desiccated lava would be heard more than a few yards away, and one of the abandoned mines Larry had turned them on to wasn't too far ahead. He checked for the third or fourth time to make sure that his weapon was ready, looked behind him to exchange a brief glance with David, and nodded at Colby's questioning face. The blond agent went forward on his own, making almost no noise on the rock-strewn ground.

When Don saw that Colby had reached the rock outcropping that signaled the entrance to the mine, he crept forward, trying to remember his fugitive recovery days and the mechanics of making a quiet approach. He was embarrassed to note that his own footsteps were considerably less stealthy than those of his junior agent. Behind him, David wasn't faring much better. He mentally shrugged, and nodded at Colby when they were ready.

Colby took two silent steps forward into the mine entrance, weapon extended in front of him. Don followed closely, training his gaze on the back of the dark space as soon as his eyes had adjusted to the light. It felt empty, decayed, like no one had been here for years. A dark tunnel led away from the side of the cramped cave, with a broken timber blocking the entrance. When Colby looked up from studying the dusty ground and nodded, his feeling was confirmed. Theirs were the only feet to disturb the surface in here for quite a while.

They sighed and lowered their weapons, the adrenaline rush subsiding. "Two down, two to go," David called softly from his post outside.

"And he's gotta be in one of these," Colby said, waving his arm towards the interior of the mine. "It's not like he could hide outside very long, at least not once the sun comes up."

"Megan, do you copy?" Don asked, addressing the absent agent through his earpiece. She was waiting with the Jeep out on what passed for the main road in case they flushed Koristet out of the gully without initially capturing him.

"Crossing the Henderson Mine off the list," she replied. "How are you guys doing?"

"I'll be glad when we find this guy," Don replied, wiping his brow of sweat. The Kevlar felt heavier than normal with the heat of the early morning adding a few pounds to his perception. But with an armed fugitive out there, he'd take the sweat over the alternative.

"Reminds me of the Negev Desert," David said. "Hottest place I've ever been, worse than summer in the Bronx. You could just see the heat shimmering in the air, same as here."

"Reminds me of some places I'd rather not think about," Colby muttered, looking at the rock walls around them with a grimace. "I thought I was done with searching through caves for guys on the most wanted list when I left Afghanistan."

"Yeah, well, past expertise has a way of coming back to haunt you, I'm afraid." Don looked at his agent more closely. "Let me know if it's too weird, okay?"

Colby waved a hand as if to say, "Don't worry about it," but out loud all he said was, "We'd better get this over with before the sun starts beating down on us."

They filed back out, Colby again in the lead due to his experience in, as he had said, searching for guys in caves. The next mine on the map was about a quarter mile up the wash and several yards up the hillside. Anyone watching at the entrance would see them coming—and would also have the higher ground.

So they set off uphill through the sharp rocks, wincing every once in a while as one of them stepped on a particularly sharp piece. It was slow going without the pathway that the gully had provided, but in fifteen minutes they had reached an old, battered wooden sign whose faded red paint signaled the location of the Black Jack Mine. As before, Colby was the first to ease around the last boulder, Don close behind, with David staying focused on the area around them in case of an ambush.

This time, things felt different. He exchanged a quick glance with Colby, who flicked his eyes down to the footprints in the dust heading farther back into the empty mine, then back up to meet Don's eyes. He nodded, raising his weapon a little higher and signaling to the junior agent to cover him. Placing his feet as quietly as possible on the rocky floor, he moved forward.

The initial opening must have been a natural cavern, because the walls showed little trace of gouging from pickaxes or explosives. The rock was the same black basalt as outside, absorbing the light filtering in from the entrance and making it difficult to see the back of the cavern. Don slowly withdrew the heavy flashlight from his belt, unwilling to turn it on unless he absolutely had to for fear of alerting their quarry to their presence. He held it up, crossing his arms in front of him, braced at the wrists, one hand with a finger on the flashlight switch, one with a finger on the trigger.

At first the cavern seemed to be shallow, but as his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see that it took a sharp bend towards the back. He moved to the side wall, gesturing behind him for Colby to do the same, to avoid appearing as silhouettes outlined against the daylight at the mouth of the cave. They eased around towards the back of the cavern, placing one foot in front of the other as slowly and carefully as possible.

Don rounded the corner and heard a soft sound in front of him, like a shoe scuffing against rock. Instantly, he snapped the flashlight on, shouting, "FBI! Put your hands up!" Behind him, Colby was doing the same thing, and the cacophony of shouts and echoes was nearly deafening in the narrow passageway.

In the beam of his flashlight, halfway down a corridor that was comparable in length to the walkways behind the FBI building, a young man stood with his empty hands down at his sides. The now-torn shirt and shorts were the same clothes that Charlie had described lending him, and his facial features certainly fit the description. But Don asked anyway. "Dominic Koristet?"

The young man's face was fearful as he nodded. "Who are you?" he asked.

"We're with the FBI. I need you to put your hands up, Mr. Koristet. Are you carrying a weapon?" Don knew he couldn't arrest the guy, protected as he was by his father's profession, but he did have his own self-preservation to think about above all else.

"It is down there," Koristet said, gesturing at the floor beyond the pool of light spilling from the flashlight. His gaze never left Don's face. "You can not put me in jail, you know," he continued in his slight Slavic accent.

"Thanks for the legal advice," Colby drawled as he edged past Don, finger still on the trigger, moving his own flashlight until it caught the gleam of gunmetal on the ground. "Is that the line you always use to get yourself out of trouble?"

Before he could respond, Don snapped, "Why did you hold up my brother and steal his car?"

Dominic blinked and slowly raised one hand to push the dark bangs out of his eyes, Don tracking his movements with his gun all the while. "Your brother?" His expression turned more wary. "Is that why you're out here? You are not really FBI?"

"We're out here because you've been identified as the perpetrator in two separate crimes," Colby retorted as he crouched down and grabbed the gun from the rocky surface at their feet. "So turn around and put your hands behind your back."

Dominic didn't move. "Let me see your identification."

"All right," Don said, checking to make sure Colby had the kid covered with both weapon and light as he reached down to his waist with the hand holding the flashlight and removed his FBI credentials. He tossed the leather wallet to the ground at Koristet's feet, and the young man slowly bent to pick it up. He flipped open the badge and studied it, turning it so the beam of Colby's flashlight illuminated the clear plastic cover. When he was done, he gently tossed it back so that it landed at Don's feet. "Now yours," he said to Colby.

The blond agent exchanged a look with Don, then grudgingly lobbed his own badge in Koristet's direction. He examined it just as closely, then returned it in the same manner. "I will come with you," he finally said in the same calm tone of voice he'd been using the entire time. "You do not need to restrain me."

"Oh yes, we do," Colby said, tucking his flashlight under his arm while he reached behind him for his handcuffs.

Dominic backed up a step, his head grazing a low spot in the ceiling. "Do you really think I can climb down from here and walk over all of the rocks outside without using my hands? I will, how do you say it, come quietly."

"Why?" Don asked abruptly. "Why now, when you haven't gone anywhere quietly in the last two days?"

The young man turned to face him, his clear blue eyes reflecting the flashlight, the fading bruise around his left eye still in sharp contrast to his pale skin. "Everything I have done has been out of self-defense. I am sorry I took the property of someone who had been nothing but generous to me, but I was in fear of my life." He paused and took a deep breath. "I am still in fear of my life. We should go; if you could find me, others can, too."

Don narrowed his eyes. "From what Charlie said, you weren't so eager to cooperate with the authorities a couple of days ago. What's changed since then?" Now he sounded like he was more than willing to go along, rather than stay hidden in a dormitory or a cave. 'Maybe he just wants a ride back to L.A.,' the cynical corner of his mind piped up.

Koristet shrugged. "I have changed my mind. I assume you have been in touch with my father, yes?"

"Yeah, and he's looking forward to seeing you," Colby answered. "After we ask you a few questions, that is."

The young man shrugged. "I am aware of my rights," was all he said.

Don studied him for a moment. This was unusual behavior, to say the least, from someone who was purported to have forced two different people at gunpoint to give up their vehicles, further compelling one to drive at insane speeds down the freeway in the middle of the night. He'd run into suspects before who suffered from either bipolar mania or something close to it. Maybe this guy was prone to violent fits interspersed with calmer moments. Maybe Megan could pin him down on the drive back. But they'd have to keep a close eye on him, just to be safe. He'd turned on Charlie and Larry in an instant, and he could turn on them, too.

"Megan, we got him," he said into his microphone. "How close can you get to where we are?"

There was a crackle of static, then, "Can't…you…rocks…where…?"

Don sighed. "Guess we're too far inside the mountain here. All right, Dominic, you first. There's a third man at the entrance, so don't try anything."

They made their way back towards the entrance, both men stowing their flashlights but keeping their weapons trained on their suspect. He moved towards the cave entrance without incident, then stopped. A few paces behind him, Don said, "Come on, keep moving."

"Wait." Dominic held up a hand.

"Look, I've had about enough—" Don's impatient words suddenly stopped when he heard it, too. There was a faint sound coming from just outside the mouth of the cave, some kind of scratching or rustling noise that sounded too big to be a rat or any other kind of desert creature.

Don quietly asked his earpiece, "David, do you copy?"

There was no answer.

Don signaled to Colby to keep an eye on their suspect while he made his way to the entrance. He moved stealthily along the rocky wall, knowing that he had the advantage over any intruder because of his position inside the dark cave, but wanting the cover that the occasional protruding rock might afford. Scanning the sun-washed landscape outside, he didn't see anything.

Then he heard the sound again, and trained his weapon on the left side of the entrance as he took a step closer. Behind him, he heard nothing; Colby and Dominic were doing a good job of keeping quiet. He took another step, wondering why David wasn't there to meet them at the entrance. What if Dominic's paranoia had been justified, and there was someone else trying to find him? He was almost to the cave entrance as he took one more step forward.

Then there was an explosion of sound and motion, and Don ducked to the ground, training his gun upwards and tightening his finger on the trigger. The gunshot echoed in the dark cave as his eyes swept back and forth, looking for a threat. His heart pounded for a few beats before he realized what was going on.

Then he had to restrain a laugh.

The sun had finally risen outside, and the last remaining nocturnal desert creatures were heading for cover. That included a small colony of bats who had apparently chosen to make the Black Jack Mine their home. A couple dozen of the small, winged mammals were flying back in to the cooler and darker sanctuary of the cave. Don rose to his feet as the last stragglers flew by, their flapping wings echoing around the dark space of the cave as they disappeared around the bend and into the darkness beyond.

He turned to see Colby sheepishly lowering his gun, while Dominic still looked as tense as ever. "David?" Don called out.

"Are they gone?" After a few seconds, David's head poked around the cave entrance a few yards ahead of where Don was standing. "I saw them coming, and I didn't want to get in the way, you know?"

"Not afraid of a flying rodent, are you?" Colby chuckled.

"I'm not the one who fired my gun," David retorted, giving Don a sideways glance as he did so.

"Yeah, well, I'm lucky it didn't ricochet off one of these rocks." Don grimaced as he slid his weapon back in its holster. "Megan, can you hear me now?"

"Everything okay in there?" came the reply. "I thought I heard shots fired."

"I'll explain it when we get there. We're on our way." He looked around at the other two agents. "Come on, let's get out of here. Too many Saturday afternoon movies are making me a little jumpy right now."

Colby gave Dominic a nudge forward. "Let's go before he accidentally shoots one of us, okay?"

Don gave him a glare, but he knew the jibe was deserved. He'd acted like a nervous rookie back there, firing his weapon before clearly identifying the threat. A ricochet could have been disastrous in that small space, not to mention the possible instability of the abandoned mine and the threat of a collapse. The cave itself was probably secure, but he'd heard stories of hunters accidentally setting off pockets of gas with a poorly-aimed shot that ended up bringing down the roof on whatever was inside.

He wiped the sweat off his brow again and led the way down the slope towards the gully and out of the desert. Well, that was part one of the day. Now all he had to do was persuade someone who couldn't be prosecuted to confess his crimes and explain his motivations for carrying them out, while restraining himself from physically injuring the man who had threatened his brother, all within the confines of the Suburban on the drive back to Los Angeles before Koristet Sr. could shut down the interrogation. He gave a small snort. Piece of cake.