"The Chameleon"

Chapter Nine

"Simon, you said on the phone that you had a possible lead on Jim's location. Do you have any more information?" Blair asked as he got into Simon's car and closed the door.

"We may have a lead on the kidnappers. There was a hit-and-run accident at the hospital's parking lot about the same time that the security cameras showed Anna and another man wheeling Jim out of the hospital. Now, we have had real photographs to show around instead of an artist's rendering."

"That's great!"

Simon nodded. "A witness at the scene, a hospital employee, had seen the accident and got the license plate number of the fleeing car. We've traced the plates back to a car rental agency. The car was found a couple of hours ago, abandoned and wiped clean, so there were no usable prints. The address and phone number given were both bogus, but for some reason, they have been using the same credit card.

"But by running the credit card number that was used to rent that car, we've tracked its recent activity and found all of the purchases occurred within a relatively small area of northern Cascade. The most frequent usage was at a gas station. We're on our way there now."

"Wow," was Sandburg's only reply.

They pulled in the gas station minutes later and spoke to the owner when a gentleman came in to pay for his gas. The owner turned to the customer and said, "Hey, Murphy, remember the other day when we were talking about the crushed fender of that Mercedes?"

"Yeah, I remember it. It was really dented in with lots of pretty colors not included in the original paint job. Why?"

"These cops are asking about it. It was in a hit-and-run accident and they are trying to find the owner."

"Oh yeah? Well, look no further. When I was on my way home the other day, I passed that same car making a left turn onto Delsimo Drive. There's only a couple of houses on that road. Some of them extend way into the wilderness."

Simon stared at Murphy in disbelief, thinking back on their dashed hopes when the US Immigration called to say no one by the name of Anna Cordova had entered the country in the last year. Tying the hit-and-run to Anna Cordova was a mighty big stretch, but it was their only lead. The witness to the accident described a woman matching Anna's appearance and she was with a young man. He didn't see Jim with them, but he was probably unconscious or he would have fought the kidnapping.

Now, an off-chance lead might actually take them to Jim. Random information of this magnitude only happened maybe once in a lifetime. Or maybe Jim had just hit the mother lode of luck in the form of the two men before him.

"Thank you. Thank you very much. Could you write your name, address and phone number on this note pad while I make a telephone call?"

"You've got it."

Simon ordered up the troops. Soon, they were on their way to Delsimo Drive.

The hallucinogen was coursing through Jim's system. He blinked several times trying to clear his distorted vision, but it didn't help much. "Come on, Ellison, you've got to get out of here before they hang you up like a side of beef again."

His hands were bound in front of him and Jim rolled to one side in hopes of getting to his feet. There were so many pain signals vying for attention that it seemed like one huge ache covering his entire body. He didn't care if he groaned as he moved, it was the necessary cost for finding freedom.

He managed to throw his legs over the side of the table and rise to a sitting position. The room swirled around him, and for a moment, Jim wasn't sure if he had imagined his conversation with Anna. No, he told himself, the memories that came to him during their talk were real. He felt it in his gut.

But, why would Anna leave him alone with only his hands tied together? That just didn't make any sense. She must have thought he was a whole lot worse off than he was. Jim could handle a lot of pain, maybe more than the average folk, but it didn't help the misery he was feeling right then.

He looked about as he heard a voice, low and muffled. No one was with him, but he was sure he'd heard someone speaking to him. Swallowing hard, Jim got to his feet. He swayed wildly and had to reached down to grab the table for support.

"I've got to get moving or I'll run into Ramon," he whispered to himself, "along with his trusty knives."

Taking a breath, Jim made his first step and didn't collapse. That was a good sign, he told himself, and took another one. Soon, he was at the door. It was awkward turning the door knob, but he finally succeeded. Peeking out into the hallway, Jim saw the coast was clear and chose one of two directions to go, trying to find a way outside and to freedom.

Again, Jim heard the voice calling to him. He spun around, but no one was there. He blinked, but the kaleidoscope of colors and shapes remained. Okay, if his acute vision wasn't functioning, what about his acute sense of hearing, touch, and smell? By concentrating, he smelled the distinct scent of pine trees nearby. He reached the end of the hallway and saw there was a door leading out.

Quietly opening the door, he peered outside and didn't see any movement, but he did see the tall evergreens beckoning to him. Jim ran as fast as he could to the woods' protective cover and safety.

He slumped against a tree trunk and kissed it with a rush of relief. The rope binding his hands was cutting into the skin and hampered his escape, but he didn't see anything he could use to free himself, so he ran. He wasn't sure if he was heading in the right direction, but it didn't matter as long as it was away from Anna and Ramon.

Glancing up to the sky, Jim saw that it had to be late afternoon. The air was just as chilled as it had been in the room, but Jim used the cold to his advantage, because it helped to keep him alert, albeit his vision was still tripping out with bizarre colors and shapes.

He stopped to catch his breath and sought to get his bearings. Jim sniffed the air and detected smoke coming from a fireplace in the distance. He headed off in that direction, but stopped when he heard someone calling his name again.

Looking around once more, and finding no one near him, he whispered, "Dammit, there's no one here, so shut up with the voices already!"

His orders went unanswered and the voice became louder, distracting him. He tripped on a fallen branch and hit the ground hard. The fall knocked the air from his lungs and he lay sprawled on a bed of pine needles for a while just trying to breathe.

"Got to get going," he said aloud, willing himself to his feet again.

He felt like he was a rusty old machine that couldn't quite get its engine going. He swallowed and sniffed the air again. The smoke seemed stronger than before and Jim hoped he'd find the place before he collapsed, which wouldn't be too far off the way he was stumbling around.

He was on a rising slope lined on both sides with crevices and gullies where water flowed in a small creek. He listened carefully and he soon heard the faint sound of trickling water. Suddenly, the fireplace didn't seem as important as quenching his maddening thirst.

Somehow, Jim made it down to the creek without falling until the very end. He lost his footing and rolled down the rest of the way, crying out in pain as the ground wasn't very forgiving to his injuries. His clumsiness was tearing his thin pajama bottoms into shreds, but that was the least of his worries.

After a moment, he steadied his breathing and made it over to the creek, kneeling beside the running water and dunked his face into the ice cold water. He drank until he had to come up for air, gasping as he rolled over onto his back. The water had revived him somewhat, but he was still seeing and hearing things.

The voice that had been calling to him clarified, "Jimmy?"

Jim shook his head to dispel a sudden wave of disbelief. He now recognized the voice. It belonged to Kenny McCormack, but Kenny was dead. At least, Jim seemed to remember being told Anna that Kenny was dead, but she might have been teasing him. No, there was the image of a wallet flashing through his head. Kenny was dead, so who was talking to him?

Jimmy, come on, answer me, the disembodied voice begged.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the voice.

Jimbo, please talk to me.

"Go away!" Jim shouted.

But I'm here to help you.

Jim opened his eyes and looked around again, getting glimpses of the terrain around him in between the blinding bursts of color and shapes, but there was no Kenny McCormack around him.

A distant part of him realized it was the drug in his system that was manufacturing Kenny's voice, but it sounded so familiar and caring. And another part of him wished he could actually talk to Kenny. He had so many things he wanted to say to his old friend, most importantly how guilty he felt about bringing Kenny into his problems, and especially when it resulted in Kenny's death.

Struggling to overcome his drug-induced madness, Jim let his head fall back to the ground and promptly passed out.

"Anna! Ellison is gone!" Ramon shouted from the empty room.

He heard the rush of her footsteps and he stepped out into the hallway to meet her. They both looked to the door at the end of the hallway and began running. Once outside, they turned in slow circles but saw nothing.

"He couldn't have gotten far," Anna said, catching her breath. "I was only gone for a few minutes."

"You head that way and I'll head this way," he said as he gestured his directions with one hand, the other hand making sure he still had his cell phone with him. "Call me on the cell if you find him."

Ramon began running as his gaze darted about. He checked the ammo in his nine-millimeter Glock. They couldn't lose Ellison without killing him first. If that happened, everything they'd been working for would be lost.

Simon had teams searching each of the properties on Delsimo Drive, but so far there was no sign of Jim. Simon sat with Blair in his car. They were parked outside the last house to search, carefully watching the grounds for any sign of activity.

"Captain, there's a car parked in the rear of the residence, but so far, there's been no activity."

Simon caught Blair's eye and sighed. This idea might turn up to be a waste of time.

"Sir, shall we proceed with the search at this point or hold?" a voice said over the car's radio.

Simon sighed and picked up the hand mike. "It's a go, but watch yourselves. These people are cop killers among their other crimes."

"Roger that, sir."

Blair was adjusting the straps on his bulletproof vest when Simon looked over to him. "Are you ready for this?"

Blair looked up at him, clearly not anxious to go into a dangerous situation, but his friendship with Jim overrode his anxiety. "I'm ready," he said as he came around the car to stop beside Simon.

The other teams descended upon their location. Simon had his map out and began to lay out the search grid. Once the assignments were given, everyone split up. Simon and Blair headed toward the house, along with one of the two man teams.

"Blair, you stay behind me all the way, understood?"

Blair nodded. "Yeah, Simon, I kn-"

Blair was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot and suddenly nothing else mattered.

5