After a few reassuring words, gentle hugs, and one more glass of wine each, Maura and Brenda found themselves standing on the sidewalk in front of Peter's workshop, each suddenly feeling a bit awkward.
"This ain't a good situation at all," Brenda said finally, scuffing at the ground with her sneaker. "But there's a way out of it, I know it, I just gotta think of what it is."
"Hmm," Maura murmured.
They stood there for another long moment, neither sure of which direction they were headed, and whether or not they were headed there together.
"Did anyone happen to catch when Captain Volkov said they'd be comin' back?" Brenda asked, fingertips brushing her itchy collarbone.
"Don't press at it," Maura said automatically. She seemed to catch herself, took a light, high breath. "I'm not sure," she said. "He didn't tell you?"
Brenda shook her head. "Just 'tomorrow,' he said. You think I could borrow that radio of yours for a minute, give them a little call, get our schedules straightened out?"
Maura frowned for a moment, considering. "All right," she said. "Do you know how to use it?"
"Um," Brenda said.
"I'll show you," Maura said after a moment. "Come on."
Brenda nodded, followed behind her as they went back down the street to the clinic. They greeted Katie at the desk, and Brenda wondered if the girl ever left. Probably not, she thought, remembering the way Katie talked about Maura, how her eyes shone with respect and affection and a fierce protectiveness.
"We're finding out what time we can expect our guests tomorrow," Maura told her evenly. "When we do, would you be willing to go tell the others?"
Brenda knew she meant the people with the guns.
"Of course," Katie said. "Would you mind if I went home after that? Cherry was a little worried about your canceling dinner, what with everything going on, so I promised we'd hang out."
"Yes," Maura said, her face falling a little, her voice soft and gentle. "Please. And please tell Cherry she doesn't need to worry."
"Even though she does?" Katie said, then covered her mouth with her hand like she'd spat at Maura, who blanched slightly.
"Yes she does," Brenda cut in. "But she don't have to know that. And you don't have to be the one to tell her." Put her good hand on Katie's arm. "I'm sorry we have to ask you to keep that secret, but—"
"No problem," Katie said smoothly, making eye contact with Brenda, who immediately wondered what other secrets Katie was keeping.
"We should be right back," Maura said, leading Brenda into her office.
They sat for a moment in front of the glowing radio. Brenda watched Maura's eyes close, her shoulders slump.
"We'll figure it out," Brenda said softly, her hand hovering above Maura's arm, but not touching her. "Can you show me how this works?"
Maura sighed, nodded. "It should be on the correct channel already," she said, pointing to the little dial. "All you have to do is lift this handset, press the button on the side."
"Oh," Brenda said, feeling a little foolish. "It's just like a police radio."
"Essentially."
"Well all right," she mumbled, then cleared her throat.
"Oh," Maura said as she took the handset from Brenda, "we have to hail them." She cleared her throat. "MV Ivan Grozny, this is K7IDZ Seabrook, do you copy? K7IDZ Seabrook to MV Ivan Grozny, do you copy?"
An interminably long pause, then the speaker crackled, hissed.
"This is MV Ivan Grozny," came a gruff, heavily-accented voice Brenda hadn't heard before. Held out her hand to Maura, who passed her the handset.
"Ivan Grozny, this is Brenda Johnson. What time can we expect your visit tomorrow?"
Another pause that stretched from seconds to minutes. Brenda wasn't sure she was breathing, wasn't sure Maura was either.
"Captain Volkov is honored to meet you at 0900 hours tomorrow," the voice said, and there was the immediate click of the channel closing.
"Well I guess that answers that," Brenda said, hanging up the handset. She felt the swirling queasiness in her gut, which hadn't really left since Katie had called her down from her room several hours earlier. Something bad was going to happen. She could feel it.
Maura could obviously feel it too, as she stood abruptly, tightened her coat around her chest. "I'll go let Katie know," she said without inflection. "Thank you, Brenda."
"Welcome," Brenda murmured.
The same awkward tension from the street flitted around them for a moment. Maura's face was clouded with thought.
"I think I'll go tell Pierre myself," she said, a little too loudly.
"Only tell him what he needs to know," Brenda said, falling back on her decades in law enforcement. Her decades in selecting the truth.
Maura shot her a moody look. "Obviously, Brenda."
"Sorry," she said, meekly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Eat,," Maura said, her voice firm. "Rest. I can see that you're tired, and I can see that you're in pain."
"Yeah, well—" she tried to protest.
"I'll see you here at 7 am." She folded her arms.
"Yes ma'am," Brenda muttered. Then, louder, "I'd advise your people to take a couple weapons each, conceal at least one. Good to have them visible, but better to be a little extra prepared, too."
Maura nodded. "Anything else?"
"You got any other folks that can lend a hand for somethin' like this?"
"I don't know what 'this' is, Brenda," Maura replied, and Brenda could hear her beginning to tense, to crackle.
"It's just extra precautions," she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact but not worry Maura more. "If you can have a few extra folks that Volkov and his men ain't seen yet just hangin' around the perimeter, you know."
Maura's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "I'll ask."
"Maura," Brenda said softly, as she was turning to leave, "we'll be okay. Everyone's gonna be okay. I promise."
Maura looked at her hard. "Don't make promises you might not want to keep, Brenda Leigh," she murmured darkly, before closing the door behind her.
By 8:30 the next morning, Maura, Brenda, and a small handful of townspeople had gathered on the dock. Peter had somehow found out what was happening, probably from Fernando, who Brenda had ended up having dinner with because she needed to talk to someone—and had insisted he be present, but Brenda and Maura had talked him down from the idea, Maura through soothing and comforting, Brenda through firm determination and a couple of illustrative examples from her less-savory Russian past. In the end, Fernando had swooped in, promised to make him breakfast at his clinic apartment. "We'll have a nice gossip," he'd said, but his face was kind, worried.
Brenda was also worried as she stood on the dock, the slightly awkward but immediately familiar bulk of a gun pressing at her hip as she wrapped her good arm around herself. She hoped nobody would have to use their weapon, especially since her gun arm was still in a sling, but it felt solid and reassuring regardless.
Maura stood near her, face impassive, fingers twitching slightly as she eyed Pierre and their army, as Volkov had called them. Brenda knew a little about Maura's skill with a weapon from Katie, had filed that bit of information away for later, and was pretty sure she recognized the unconscious gripping at a rifle stock that wasn't there.
It was best that Maura was unarmed, they'd reasoned. Diplomatically, anyway. Brenda didn't like it one bit, especially since it meant neither of them was in a state to do anything if something were to go sideways, but Pierre had pointed out a few half-hidden people she hadn't met yet surrounding their perimeter, tucked carefully behind buildings, crouching low at the edges of the marina, and she'd felt a slight relief.
"This is excellent, Pierre, thank you," she'd said.
"De rien, madame. I too have experience with such things." His face hadn't betrayed any sense of what those things might be, and she filed that away for later, too.
They all stood, motionless, hardly breathing, for long minutes, until Pierre called to them that the small outboard was approaching.
As before, it seemed to take an eternity for the vessel to arrive at the dock. Brenda looked carefully at the passengers; recognized Volkov immediately, and his first mate; saw two men behind them, but wasn't sure if they were the same two from the day before.
"Zdravstvuyte," Captain Volkov called in his booming, gregarious voice. "Good morning, Seabrook."
Nobody moved.
"Zdravstvuyte," Brenda replied after a beat, her voice flat, neutral. "Your weapons, please."
Captain Volkov's face shifted again, that slight glimpse of something dark, cruel, for just a moment. "Of course, Miss Johnson." He said something to his men, who sighed, put their guns in the boat. Volkov opened his own jacket, showing them all his empty holster. "Now we may go. Though I do have one friendly request first."
She frowned, just a little, but enough that Maura noticed. "What?"
"They want somethin'," she said.
"What is it, Captain?"
Volkov sighed, clapped his hands together, his face assuming a look of supplication that Brenda didn't buy for one second. "As I mentioned at our first meeting, we have an injured man on our ship. It would be most kind if you would allow him to be seen by your physicians." He looked at Maura, his face not changing.
She looked at Maura. "They want to bring one of their injured men for medical attention."
Maura hesitated, her brow furrowing. Brenda could see her distrust and anxiety fighting with her deep physician's instinct for caretaking. She looked at Brenda, unsure.
"Do you think—"
"I think if Pierre can spare a couple folks to keep an eye on him, and if we restrict the patient to one guarded room. If there's anyone you think would be able to see to him, of course. And who knows," she added, "he might be able to give us more information."
"I'll do it," Maura said immediately. "I won't ask anyone else to possibly endanger themselves."
Brenda felt a little rush of admiration. "All right," she said softly. "If you're sure."
"Very well," Maura called to Captain Volkov before Brenda could answer him. "Bring him."
Volkov grinned, bowed. "Spasibo, Doctor," he said. Muttered to the two men—the same from yesterday, Brenda noted—who nodded back, climbed back into the small boat and slowly pulled it out of the harbor, back to the ship. "Must we wait for them?" he asked Brenda.
"He wants to know if we should wait," Brenda translated. Looked at Maura, who shrugged, at Pierre, who glanced at his team, then shook his head slightly.
"We can go now, Captain," Brenda said. He nodded, moved up the dock with his first mate close behind him.
They set off toward the town much as they had the day before; Brenda, Maura, and Captain Volkov, Piotr close behind, being followed by a few of the townspeople, weapons clearly visible. Pierre and Liz remained at the dock, their hidden teammates not moving to follow until the little group had gone a short distance down the beach road.
"You have a very good army," Captain Volkov said to Brenda, his voice only a little condescending.
"We have many things to keep safe, Captain."
"As do we, Miss Johnson."
They walked silently the rest of the way.
At the town hall, they sat much as they had the day before; Brenda and Maura across from Volkov and Piotr, the first mate. She felt a little better about their numbers today; the two Russians were alone this time, and they had a half-dozen armed guards.
"Have you thought about what we discussed yesterday, Miss Johnson?" Volkov asked, his fingertips tented on the tabletop.
"Please refresh my memory, Captain," she said. Waited for him to set the tone.
"This botanist," he said, and his face went serious, hard. Their polite diplomacy had clearly come to an end. "We know he is here."
"They want the scientist," she muttered to Maura, careful not to say his name, hoping Maura got the hint. "They know he's here." Maura nodded impassively.
"And what makes you think that, Captain?"
Volkov glowered for a moment before seeming to catch himself. He grinned that wolfish grin.
"Doctor Peter Avery," he said. "Is in this town. He came here from Vancouver, and before that, Alaska. We are certain of it."
"And I'm certain of nothing, Captain. Unless you can tell me what you want this man for, I'm afraid we won't be able to be of any help."
Volkov frowned, sat back. Whispered something to his first mate, who nodded.
"As I told you, this man was conducting essential research that would allow us to grow—"
"Better corn, yes, Captain, you said," Brenda cut in, her voice steely. "But surely you know that research already exists, and in a form that would be attainable with your resources right now. And besides, Captain," she leaned forward, eyes hard. "Why would you need to feed a nation when there isn't a nation left to feed?"
Volkov's face twisted, and for a moment Brenda was afraid. Thought about Peter's frightened voice when he talked about the man.
"You will bring us this man," he said, his voice heavy with an unspoken threat. "We will not leave until he is on board my ship."
Brenda didn't respond, only stared at him. They sat that way, glowering at each other, until there was a light knock at the door.
"Come in," Brenda called.
Katie peered around the door. "The injured man, he's, um, he's here now," she said, her voice urgent. "He's hurt pretty badly, Doctor."
Maura stood abruptly. "All right, I'm coming now." Katie nodded, ducked back out.
Captain Volkov appeared to understand, stood himself, Piotr right behind him.
"May we come?" he asked, directing his question to Maura, who looked briefly horrified before looking at Brenda.
"We'll be right there with you," she murmured.
"Fine," Maura sighed. "But I see the patient alone."
Brenda translated, thought she caught a flicker of anger on Volkov's face, but it quickly rearranged back into that same obsequious smile. He bowed again.
At the clinic they were greeted by a very unhappy-looking Katie, who had Liz's arm around her shoulder.
"They ignored me," Katie hissed. "I tried to show them where to go, but they just pushed past me."
Maura frowned, deepening to almost a snarl. Brenda had never seen that particular expression before, hoped she never had to again.
"Where is he?"
"Exam 3," Katie grumbled. "There's two others with him."
Brenda felt Maura's flare of anger. If she wasn't so deep into her old investigation mindset she figured she'd be pretty mad too, but as it was, at the moment all she cared about was getting all these men out of the clinic as fast as possible.
"You said he was badly hurt," Maura said, still seething but her voice somehow flat and cool. "Will I need anything in particular?"
"Antiseptic, gauze, painkillers—probably the morphine— a suture kit, splints, some elastic bandages. He's got a broken arm, maybe a broken jaw too, but I can't tell for sure. Maybe some other things. He's . . . he's pretty beat up."
"Oh god," Maura murmured. "Will I need extra hands?"
Katie glanced at the Russians who had followed them, seeming to shrink a little under Volkov's dark stare.
"It's all right," Maura said, trying to sound calm, reassuring. "I've got it."
Katie only nodded, her mouth set in a firm line. Brenda could tell she wasn't going to leave the clinic. Felt a little rush of pride.
"Gentlemen," Maura said, dropping any pretense of warmth. "Thank you for coming, but I need to see to the patient now."
Brenda repeated her words. Volkov frowned. "I cannot stay to make sure he is comfortable?"
"What a kind offer, Captain," Brenda replied, not trying to hide her skepticism. "But Dr. Isles is very accomplished and I'm sure he'll be well taken care of." Her face, all of their faces, stony and blank.
"Ah," Volkov said, perhaps realizing he couldn't change their minds, perhaps thinking better of trying. "We go to boat."
"And the others?"
"Surely you must understand our position, Miss Johnson," he said, a cold undercurrent in his voice. "You can see that it is best if my man has his comrades to watch out for him as well."
Brenda pursed her lips. "He wants to leave the others here."
"Absolutely not," Maura replied. "No."
She eyed Volkov. "We can let them stay," she murmured. "Let's keep things as civil as we can, while we can. Plus, we have all the guns."
Maura looked like she wanted to protest, but sighed, relented. "They stay out of the room."
Volkov seemed to understand, nodded curtly. "Spasibo," he said, then motioned to Piotr. The two men turned and walked briskly out of the clinic, Pierre and Matthieu and Andrea close behind.
Once they'd left, the room let out a communal sigh.
"Liz, you and Tom please make sure nobody comes into the clinic unless it's an emergency. Maggie, I'd like you to sit by the room door, please."
Brenda watched as Maura dispatched the remains of their little army, feeling a flush of admiration at her determined efficiency. "And me?" she asked.
"You're with me," Maura said. "As you said, this man may have something useful to tell us."
Once in the room, Maura gasped, and a moment later, so did Brenda.
On the bed lay a man, torn and bloody. His face was a mass of purple-black bruises, his eyes swollen shut. Blood dripped from his nose, his mouth. Maura could see right away that his jaw was indeed broken, and Katie had been right about the arm, bent at a sickening angle away from his body. At least she couldn't see any bones protruding.
"Oh god," she murmured again. Brenda didn't say anything, but her eyes were wide.
"He's been beaten," Brenda said.
"Yes," Maura whispered. "By a metal pipe, perhaps. Or a large, heavy object of some kind, possibly a wrench, though I can't say for sure."
"And recently," Brenda added. "These wounds look fresh, some of 'em are still bleedin'."
"I don't even know where to start," Maura said, though she was already moving, her body taking over for her brain as she sorted through the supplies Katie had left on a metal tray. "Brenda, can you . . ."
"Sure," she said, moving to her. "How can I help?"
"Can you get some of this blood cleaned up? I can't even see where the wounds are."
She nodded, doused a gauze pad in antiseptic. When she pressed it gently to the man's face he groaned, and Brenda watched Maura's shoulders sag in relief.
"You're all right," Maura whispered as she fluttered her fingers over the man, trying to find all the injuries. "You'll be all right."
"You're on shore, with a doctor," Brenda said softly. The man groaned again. "Don't try to talk, you have a broken jaw. The doctor will be giving you some painkillers very soon."
She hadn't asked Maura if that was true, but when she glanced over Maura was already drawing the liquid into a small syringe. The man's broken body slumped against the bed as the morphine worked its way through him.
"You sure you have enough hands for all this?" Brenda asked. "I can go get Dr. Morales, if it'll help."
Maura frowned as she examined the badly-broken arm. "I said I didn't want to involve anyone else." But the look of anxiety on her face was more than enough for Brenda to lean out the door, ask Maggie, the guard stationed just outside, if she could go get Dr. Morales from the third floor. "Quick as you can," she added. "I'll keep an eye out here." She glanced at the lobby, where two unfamiliar men sat, staring straight ahead. Maggie gave a doubtful look at Brenda's sling.
"Oh for heaven's sake," Brenda muttered, lifting her sweater just enough to show Maggie she was still armed. "And it'll take you what, a minute?"
Maggie raised her eyebrow, but set off up the stairs.
"Room 3A," she called.
The two men made no sign that they'd heard anything, but Brenda knew they'd been listening, even if they didn't understand.
She watched them carefully, but they didn't so much as twitch. Made a mental note to ask Maggie to tell her right away if they did.
A moment later she was back, Dr. Morales and Peter close behind. "You!" Brenda hissed, trying not to draw to much attention. "Back upstairs, please. Quiet, now." Peter opened his mouth to protest but Fernando set his hand lightly on the man's arm, smiling gently. Peter frowned, but went back up.
"You called?" Fernando said. Brenda nodded.
"In here." She followed Fernando into the room.
"My god," he murmured.
"Shattered jaw and arm," Maura said briskly. "I haven't been able to tell much else."
"I can see why," Fernando replied. "What should I do?"
"Let's get him clean and stitched up, and then we'll worry about the broken bones. I gave him morphine, so he should be out for a little while, at least." Fernando hummed his assent, and they both went to work, murmuring to each other. Brenda just watched for a bit, admiring their easy cooperation, the way they both seemed to fade into their work. She knew that feeling, had felt it not long ago.
She watched Maura, her movements smooth and confident, cleaning and taping wounds, deftly stitching cuts, all the while murmuring softly to either Fernando or her patient, her voice low and gentle, soothing, even though the man was unconscious, and wouldn't have understood the words anyway. But he would have understood the kindness, the delicacy, the calm. Brenda felt a tug at her heart as Maura winced sympathetically when she and Fernando carefully adjusted the man's arm, setting it back to an angle that immediately made Brenda's stomach settle a little, even though it wasn't even her arm.
"Splints, please," Maura said, and Fernando was right there with them. Together they carefully set the man's arm, wrapped it in gauze and thick elastic bandages before placing it gently between the splints.
"I wish we had an x-ray," Maura said glumly. "I can't tell if it's properly aligned."
"Well, it's certainly better than it was," Fernando smiled. "You've got a gift, Dr. Isles."
Maura blushed. "Just lots of experience."
"And the jaw?"
Maura frowned, shrugged. "I'm not really sure what to do about that. He needs surgery, but we're not equipped."
"Dental blocks, I guess," Morales said. "I think I saw some—"
"Yes, third cabinet. We'll need a lot of oral gauze, and the suction machine."
Brenda felt a little sick again. She'd certainly seen enough violence, enough shattered bodies, but there was something about teeth that had always made her squeamish.
Maura seemed to notice. "Would you like to step out, Brenda? I don't think he'll be saying anything for a while."
She nodded gratefully, ducked out the door, took a deep breath. Maggie looked at her quizzically.
"Tooth stuff," Brenda said, shivering. Maggie wrinkled her nose, nodded.
Suddenly one of the men stood. Maggie jumped up, hand on her gun.
"Vannaya," the man grunted. His partner didn't move.
"He needs the bathroom," Brenda sighed. "I'll take him."
Maggie nodded, shifted her focus to the other man.
"Idi so mnoy," Brenda said, making sure he saw the pistol at her hip.
She led the man down the little hall past Maura's office, opened the door to the restroom. He went in without looking at her.
"You're welcome," she muttered. Glanced into Maura's office. Something tickled at her brain as she looked inside, something was different, but she couldn't figure out what it was.
She didn't have time to think about it as the man she was escorting came out of the bathroom. He still didn't say anything or look at her, just marched back to the lobby, where he nodded at his partner who stood, and without so much as a glance, both men pushed out the clinic doors.
"Hey!" Brenda shouted.
One paused. "We go ship," he said, not waiting for a response before continuing out onto the street.
Maggie was already on their tail, motioning for Pierre to follow behind with her.
Brenda frowned, sighed, flopped down on the uncomfortable lobby couch. "Well, shoot," she muttered.
"Why'd they leave?" Katie's voice from behind the desk made Brenda jump.
"Beats me," she sighed. "Can't say I'm sorry to see 'em go."
"How's the patient?"
"Real bad," Brenda grimaced.
"Looks like he was beaten with a pipe or something," Katie said. "Seems kind of weird, huh?"
Brenda frowned. In all the commotion she hadn't stopped to think about why the man was in the clinic at that moment, but Katie was right. It did seem weird.
"I mean, why would they beat up their own guy? And right before they got here?"
"Why indeed," Brenda muttered. As she mulled it over, she suddenly realized, with a sickening jolt, what was different about Maura's office. "Oh no," she whispered, bolting toward the room.
"What?" Katie called after her, voice high and anxious. "Chief, what is it?"
Brenda careened into Maura's office, dreading what she'd find.
On her desk, the radio sat, dull and dark. "No, no, no," Brenda breathed as she flicked its power switch.
Nothing.
She knelt carefully, wincing at the pain in her collarbone, and peered under the table. The plug was still firmly in its socket, the cut end of the cord in a wide loop on the ground.
She jerked herself up, fingertips finding the frayed wires at the back, noticed the handset cord had also been cut.
"No," she whispered again, her blood running cold. "Oh no."