Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAMMMmmmmm
No Mellie or Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers
"That's where we got coitus interruptus," Quinn said, as Huck rewound the recording.
When Huck hit play, they all heard a heaving, groaning, swearing Dent telling the man giving his backside a workout in more ways than one, to stop as a phone started to ring.
"I gotta get this," Dent gasped, reaching for his cell phone on the night-table.
"Now?" His partner sounded offended. "I'm nearly done."
"It's important. Work."
"Fine!" The man slapped Dent's rump one last time and pulled out. "You want me to hang around?"
"Nah, we'll have an extra-long session tomorrow. I want to get my money's worth."
"You always do, hun." The man grinned cheekily. "Give my regards to the wife-!"
The man barely had time to finish his sentence before he was sent flying across the room, to crash into the wall. He looked visibly shocked as he sat up, clutching his face.
"You leave my wife out of this!" Dent ground out, coming to stand over the fallen man, his fist raised.
"Hey, cool it, man! It was just a joke!"
Dent drew his arm back, but paused when the other man said, "Shouldn't you answer your phone, it hasn't stopped ringing."
Dent dropped his arm, but not the scowl on his face. "If word gets out about any of this, you're dead! I mean that! Now get the hell out of my house."
Hearing that last part of the recording, Senator Zeke gritted his teeth, "Nasty assed bastard."
They watched as the man on the floor quickly got to his feet and rushed out the door. Then Dent walked back to the bed and sat down. He took a deep breath, let it out and finally answered his phone.
"Yeah, I know. I was in the middle of something. Everything go to plan? Call the bitch at midnight, and every couple of hours after that; make sure she doesn't get any sleep... Yeah, make the kid scream… heck, I don't know, slap her, punch her. Figure it out. Call me if there's a problem. And make sure the kid's tied up. Because I don't want her running away if there's another brown out... Right, yeah, forgot about that, you guys don't have power over there. How are the camp lights working? Yeah, good. I had a couple of Georgia Power techies checking on faults at my place. No, I didn't take down their badge numbers, Jeeze, don't get so paranoid. Look I gotta go, my wife and kids will be home soon, and I, uh, have to finish up some things before they get here."
Huck stopped the recording. "We need that phone."
Oscar looked at Zeke. "It's time for Plan C."
"These guys are good," Harrison murmured, watching barely detectable shadows move through the shrubbery.
"Professionals; military training," Huck muttered, as he and Harrison waited in an unmarked van, parked across the street from Patrick Dent's house. There was a second van waiting in a back street, with its lights turned off but its engine running.
Harrison's response was interrupted by a voice announcing over the radio transmitter, "We're going in, sir."
Then they heard Zeke respond, "The target is unarmed, in the shower. North East corner of the house. Entry through the bedroom."
Back at his stately home, Zeke, Olivia and Tom were in a bunker beneath Zeke's garage. The cavernous space was set up to be an operations centre and Zeke was watching a cinema-sized flat screen showing the interior of Dent's home, while Olivia paced the floor, her arms folded across her chest.
In the background, Tom stood against a wall, studying the bunker with an impassive interest. Then his attention shifted to the screen where a dark figure had just entered the Dent bedroom, followed by a handful of others. The new arrivals were all dressed in black, wearing masks and carrying guns.
Two of the men rushed into the en suite and minutes later came out dragging an unconscious, naked Dent between them. The others quickly threw a blanket over the naked man, bundling him up and carrying him out.
"Don't forget the phone," Zeke said into his mouthpiece.
A masked figure re-entered the bedroom, picked up the phone on the night-table and cleared out.
"Wow. That was fast," Olivia said in awe.
Zeke grinned, getting to his feet. "Now, the real fun begins."
As the black van carrying Dent drove past their parked vehicle, Harrison read out the number of the last incoming call on Dent's cell phone.
Huck typed it into his laptop, then said grimly, "The location is showing up as south downtown. Intersection of Forsyth and Alabama streets, but it looks like a built-up area."
"In other words, we'll take forever to find this kid," Harrison muttered.
"I think I know where we need to start looking." Oscar turned to the men in masks. "You guys agree?"
"The old Atlanta Constitutional Building," one of the men said. "It's been vacant for over 40 years."
Another man shook his head. "But there's always people around; kids with spray cans, vagrants, junkies, you name it."
"The fire last March caused a lot of damage and it was in pretty bad shape to start with."
Huck and Harrison looked at each other. "Let's check it out. The name is too much of a coincidence."
Oscar nodded, moving up into the driver's seat, while Harrison put a call through on his cell phone. "We're heading downtown. Sure you're okay waiting out here on your own?"
"Yep," Abby responded. "We're dealing with a mother and her kids."
"Armed militia might give them nightmares," Quinn agreed.
A short while later, a silver Toyota Camry pulled into the driveway, and a lady in leggings and a duffle coat, hopped out of the car followed by two little girls with their tutus showing under their parkas.
"Okay, that's them. Let's go." Abby and Quinn quickly exited the rental vehicle and walked up to the house.
"Mrs Dent?" Quinn asked with a cheerful smile.
"Yes. Do I know you?" Mrs Dent looked over quizzically, drawing the two girls close to her.
"No, Ma'am. But we're here to talk about your husband's case," Abby said, affecting a thick southern accent, which had Quinn looking at her strangely.
"His case tomorrow with the black judge?"
There was a moment of silence, then Abby said brightly, "Yes, ma'am. There's been, uh, a new development."
"Oh, Pat's not going to like that. He's been trying to get the better of that judge for years. You better come inside and speak to him."
Mrs Dent opened the front door, ushering her daughters inside, calling out for her husband. When she didn't get a response, she said, "That's strange. He didn't say he was going out. Did he, girls?"
The two little girls shook their heads in unison.
Mrs Dent scrolled through her phone, then sighed. "Look, I'm sure he'll be back soon. But if you don't want to wait, I'll give him your message, and he can contact you after he gets back."
Quinn took a CD case out of her shoulder bag. "This has all the information." She smiled brightly at Mrs Dent. "I'd recommend that you have a look through it before your husband gets home, but not with your kids. It's not PG-rated."
Mrs Dent's eyes widened. "You've got a sex tape on the Judge?"
"Just have a look, it will surprise you," Abby said, taking hold of Quinn's arm. "We should get going. We'll see ourselves out."
"And we'll be in touch," Quinn said, waving and smiling at the kids as they departed.
Dent woke up to find himself still naked, tied to a chair that was bolted to the ground. He looked around the stark concrete cell, lit by a bright fluorescent tube, with its only exit barred by a metal door.
"Ah, Mr Dent, you're awake," a distorted, tinny voice came over a sound system. "How are you feeling?"
Dent jerked his head, trying to find out where the sound was coming from. After a fruitless search, he yanked at the ropes tying him to the chair.
"Cat got your tongue, Dent? You're not usually this quiet in court. And I wouldn't bother trying to get free. Those knots will only get tighter the more you struggle."
That prompted an explosive, "Who the fuck are you people?! And where the hell am I?!"
"Mr Dent, you are in a safe place and we just want to ask you a few questions. About the little girl you kidnapped."
Instantly Dent stopped struggling. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
"Your face tells me you're lying, Dent."
"I didn't kidnap any little girl!"
"No, but you know who did. And we want names, Mr Dent."
"I ain't giving you no names. I don't know what the hell you're talking about!"
"I see this is going to be a very long night, Mr Dent. And a very uncomfortable one for you."
There were a couple of men in police uniforms standing by the entrance to the derelict five-story building,
"The police are in on this?" Harrison raised a brow.
"Or they could be men in police uniforms to keep the vandals and junkies away," Oscar said noncommittally, looking at the looming building shrouded in darkness. "A couple of those floors have boarded windows… And it looks like there's a chink of light coming from that window on the third floor?"
"Could be," One of the men, squinted.
Another man looked through the night-vision scope on his rifle and grunted. "Yep, that's a light all right."
Oscar looked at each individual in the vehicle. "Okay, so here's the plan…"
"Anything?"
"No," Olivia sighed into the phone. "Dent isn't saying much, other than a lot of cursing. But we may have a lead. My guys and Zeke's team are on to it."
"And you're staying safe?"
"Yes, and Tom hasn't left my side." Olivia glanced over her shoulder to where Tom was hovering at a discreet distance. Beyond him were a couple of Zeke's men, in addition to Quinn and Abby.
Dent was in a single concrete cell at the far end of the chamber, and everyone was watching him on a bank of monitors, with Zeke talking to him via a modified, synoptic microphone. There was another microphone in front of the empty chair, she had just vacated.
"I don't like how this is working out," Fitz muttered in Olivia's ear. "I'm making arrangements to fly over. I should be there in a few hours."
Olivia moved further out of earshot, and hissed, "No, Fitz, you can't be here. And I'm not just talking about leaving the kids alone this time."
"Livvie, this is not a negotiation."
"Fitz, if the verdict goes against us, it would look bad for you; coming down here to get a slap in the face. The Gun Lobby would love it, but your pollsters won't.
"And if the verdict does go our way, we don't want people saying your presence influenced the judge," Olivia paused, "Zeke and I will be there in the public gallery tomorrow morning whatever happens tonight. I'll keep you updated on what's going on. Minute by minute."
"Be safe."
"I will. You know, I will. "
Harrison staggered up to the two police officers guarding the entrance of Atlanta Constitutional, carrying Oscar slumped over his shoulder. "Help!" he gasped. "You gotta help me! I've been mugged. They stole my car, and my friend's hurt."
"Call the police," One of the men said, not budging an inch.
"Ain't you the police?"
The uniforms looked at each other. Then one of the men pulled out a gun and pointed it at Harrison. "Get out of here! Go on, git! Or I'll shoot you in the face!"
"Whoa!" Harrison took a step back. "Look man, I'm not here to create trouble. I don't have my car, my friend's hurt and we need help. Can I put him down? I just need to put him down. And maybe one of you guys knows CPR? It's part of your training, right?"
Again the men looked at each other, then the one holding the weapon came forward. "Listen, shitface! I can shoot you both dead right now and problem solved!"
In the background, black shadows crept up behind the other uniformed man, coshed him on the head and silently dragged him away.
Harrison frowned at the man holding the gun. "Hey, man. This is police brutality. When I get outta here, you can be sure that I'll be filing a complaint."
"You do that, asshole! We're from the Seventh Precinct of Hell! Make sure you get our badge numbers 666!" The man laughed, raising his gun.
"Now!" The prone Oscar suddenly launched himself at Harrison, pushing him out of the way just as a bullet hit the ground.
The move surprised the shooter, long enough for his weapon to be kicked out of his hand and for him to be knocked unconscious to the ground.
"Okay," said Oscar, helping Harrison to his feet. "These guys aren't cops. They didn't radio for help."
"There's a prison tattoo on this one's arm," said another of his team, in the process of tying the unconscious man up, after removing his weapon and searching to make sure there weren't any more.
"That tells us who we're dealing with - Dent's pack of losers."
Huck had no problem keeping up with the men who'd opted to climb the side of the building and in through a broken window.
He followed the men, making their way carefully over the refuse scattered concrete floor; their figures blending into the darkness of spray-painted walls; feeling their way down the junk strewn concrete steps that smelt of urine and decay.
They heard voices raised in agitation echoing around the empty rooms and corridors, as they got closer to the third floor edging towards the glow of light coming from one of the doorways.
"Why the fuck isn't he answering his damn phone?! Dent, you fuck, answer the damn phone!"
"Calm down! The burger bag is working, she's breathing normal."
"She may be breathing but she ain't opened her eyes! And I'm not going down for murder if this kid dies!"
"Dent has got our back. We have nothing to worry about, he said so."
"You trust that asshole?! He'd have us on Death Row in a heartbeat. Fuck! That's it. I'm outta here!"
There was a ping, and a sudden crash.
"Jeez, man, why'd you shoot him?"
"No loose ends, those were Dent's orders. The same goes for the kid. She saw my face. And I ain't taking a chance on Dent saving my ass. Three strikes and they throw away the key."
"You tell Dent about this?"
"I'm gonna make it look an accident, after the verdict is in."
"And what do we do with Vic?'
"Drag him into that corner. Take off his suit, leave the pants, and cover him with trash. When they find him, he'll look like any other junkie - not pretty, after the rats get to him."
"What about the kid? You gonna leave her here too?"
"Nah, she goes in the Dumpster; when the time's right."
There were sounds of dragging. Then conversation came to an abrupt halt when one of Zeke's men picked up a soda can and sent it clattering down the concrete steps.
"Looks like those pesky kids have come back. I'll take care of them."
"Don't forget the hood."
"Oh, yeah."
The waiting men pressed against the wall as a short, hooded figure dressed in white, strode out of the room.
He'd barely gone a couple of steps into the shadows before his body crumpled to the ground without a sound.
"That didn't take long," The bald man with a tattoo on his neck said in surprise as the white hooded figure returned; his face was lit by the light from several portable camping lanterns placed around the room. "How did you scare them off? I didn't hear anything."
His only response he got was a tranquiliser dart that felt like a pinprick as it embedded in his neck. Then as his body fell to the ground, his attacker pulled off his hood and hurried towards the little girl tied up and semi-conscious on a filthy, stinking mattress.
Huck picked up the little girl, saying in an urgent voice, "She's alive, but she needs a doctor."
As the child was rushed out the room, a team member called Zeke.
"Inform the Judge's security detail, sir, we've got her. Have the parents meet us in Emergency at Grady Memorial."
"Mr Dent, you'll be pleased to know that we have no choice but to let you go."
Dent immediately stopped struggling, and looked at the metal door suspiciously. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked in a voice that was hoarse with cursing.
"No, Mr Dent, we're releasing you."
"You're letting me go? Free? What about the kid?"
"The Judge has received an assurance that the child will be unharmed if she finds in favour of the plaintiff's motion. The judge intends to do the right thing for the safety of that child."
"Huh… So you're letting me go?"
"Yes, Mr Dent, we are letting you go. We understand you've got a big day tomorrow in court. You'll need to get some rest. "
Dent sat up. "I need clothes."
An hour later, Dent walked up to his front door, dressed in a Klansman outfit that smelt of stale cigarette smoke and beer.
He pressed the doorbell. No one answered. He yelled out his wife's name. She didn't respond. He was about to go around back, when he noticed that the front door was not shut tight. Concerned, he pushed it open and rushed in; finding the house neat, tidy and empty.
He made his way back to the kitchen, noticing something he had missed the first time he'd rushed through – a raw chicken on the counter, with a knife stabbed in its back, and a note stuck to the knife handle which said, 'You SICK bastard - You'll be hearing from my lawyers in the morning - Don't even THINK of getting custody of MY children'
Dawn was breaking when a tired and weary group of men filed out of a van parked in Zeke's garage, and made their way down to the operation centre.
They lined up in a row, taking off their masks, revealing faces that were African, Anglo, Latino and Asian.
"Olivia," said Zeke, leading her towards the group with the intention of introducing each and every one of the men by their name and military rank. "I'd like you to meet my Rainbow Justice volunteers."
A/N: And progressing towards my usual tall tales and unbelievable situations – heh, heh (they're a lot of fun to write!). We have the Rainbow Justice crew. A nod to the Winter Olympics in non-Rainbow Russia.
I also have to say that I couldn't pass up the chance to include the Atlanta Constitution Building (named after a newspaper, and not known as anything else, even after Georgia Power company occupied it according to Wikipedia). I saw the interior of the building thanks to a couple of derelict building hunters (calling themselves 'Decay is Heading Your Way') on Youtube.
Also had to Google the name of the nearest hospital – is this accurate? And what are the traffic conditions like? I have no idea!
And I know that a lot of crimes in stories are done by masterminds, but I thought I'd focus on the non-masterminds.