CHAPTER 3

The disclaimer continues.

Boots' grip moved from Don's collar to his right upper arm as he was propelled towards the hotel room door. Don concentrated on trying to make his legs work properly despite the room still trying to wobble on it's axis. The pistol whipping he had taken had not been a glancing blow. He suspected he had concussion.

Once outside they turned left, making for the stairs at the end of the hall. As they reached the door and started into the stairwell Don caught a glimpse of the lift indicator at the other end of the hall, a car was on it's way up. They cut it close but the stairwell door had fully closed behind them before he faintly heard the 'ding' of the lift. It would be another few minutes before the cops had cleared the rooms and probably longer again before they could start searching for him.

They made their way rapidly down the stairs, five flights to the basement carpark level. Gruff Voice, in the lead, peered cautiously through the small window in the door before announcing it all clear and opening the door. Don automatically analysed the behaviour of his captors. He noted that even though it had been highly unlikely that the offenders had come prepared to take a hostage with them on their escape, they were able to adjust their plans on the fly and work as a well oiled team. This meant that they had worked together before in situations of stress and probably had military backgrounds.

Two spaces along was a brown delivery van, like the thousands of other vans that moved daily through LA. Don was pushed towards the side door as someone used a remote on the central locking. The door was pulled open and Don was shoved inside. He twisted as best he could to protect his head as he fell, unable to step up in time. He landed on his bruised ribs causing him to grunt at the pain. At least he didn't hit his head and the dizziness finally seemed to be subsiding.

Telford swiftly pulled off his tie and suit jacket and tossed them into the back of the van. He reached down just inside the door and pulled out a battered delivery driver jacket which he quickly shrugged into. Telford and Gruff Voice then climbed into the front as Boots and the other man got into the back with Don.

Boots raised his gun, pointing it at the prone agent. "Not a sound."

Don just looked at him. Boots decided that his message had got across and slid the door closed before turning to pull across a curtain that divided the front of the van from the rear. As the van moved off he saw that the only windows were on the back doors and they were heavily tinted. It was dark in the back with only a little light coming through the windows from the fluorescent lights in the carpark. Don could still make out the two men with him, one seated near the rear doors and Boots near the side door. He could see from the way they were sitting that they both had their guns trained on him even if it was now too dark to see the guns directly. There was no way he could take one out without the other shooting him. He sighed mentally, with his hands cuffed behind him it was a moot point anyway.

The van stopped briefly, it must have been at the exit as he heard Telford exchange some meaningless chatter with someone about 'the next delivery' and so forth. The van started forwards again and from his position on the floor Don could see the side of the building as they turned out onto the road and drove steadily away from the hotel. A second siren could be heard approaching and then passing. They were away clean, driving normally through the busy streets not calling attention to themselves by fleeing the scene.

A few blocks later Don heard a cell phone ring from up the front of the van. He heard Telford answer it and then after a pause he heard Telford arguing softly. Telford was too quiet and the noise in the back of the van just that bit too loud for Don to make out what was being said, just the tone of the conversation.

For the first time Don remembered his own cell phone, tucked safely in the front pocket of his trousers. Right where he couldn't easily reach it with his hands cuffed behind him. If he had time and was unobserved he would have to make a try for it. He had the FBI emergency number on speed dial and had unfortunately had to use it often enough in the past that he was confident he could press the right button even holding the phone behind him. He glanced carefully at his guards but found they were looking right back at him. This just reinforced his earlier assessment of them, they were definitely professionals.

As the minutes went past Don tried to relax himself, the shakiness from the adrenalin dump in the hotel room had eased. The interior of the van still occasionally had a tendency to spin and he was now feeling slightly nauseous but Don was starting to feel more confident that he would soon be able to take action when and if an opportunity arose. They had been driving for long enough now that the pressure of lying on his side with his hands cuffed behind him was starting to get uncomfortable on his shoulders and his injured ribs. He tried to sit up but a warning sound accompanied by the slight lift of Boot's gun stopped him. Instead he rotated his shoulders as best he could and shifted his hips slightly.

Not long afterwards the van slowed and finally stopped. Don heard the front passenger door open as Gruff Voice got out. A muffled clinking noise was followed by the sound of what could only be a metal gate being dragged across concrete. The van rolled forwards a short distance and stopped. The metallic scraping now sounded from behind them. Don looked out the windows and saw the top of a chain mesh fence. Based on his angle the fence must have been at least eight feet high. An industrial area of some sort Don deduced. He had no idea where however as there were lots of such areas around LA. He tried to figure out exactly how long they had been travelling since leaving the hotel however he knew that his perception of time would have been somewhat skewed by what was happening to him. He gave up, without more information he did not have a clue where he was.

The van drove on again after Gruff Voice had got back in. A few seconds passed then the van slowed right down. Don heard a humming noise that came from overhead before the van finally stopped. There was a clunk then the humming noise sounded again. Don then saw a roller door slowly descending behind the van. They had gone inside a warehouse.

The front doors opened and moments later the side door of the van slid open. Boots got out and turned to watch as the other man helped Don up and pulled him out of the van. Don stumbled slightly stepping down onto the concrete floor.

"Bring him here." Telford instructed as he walked away from the van to an office in the corner.

Don was taken into the office and pushed to his knees on the floor in front of Telford. The other men stood back except for Boots who remained out of sight standing behind Don. The classic execution position.

"You don't have to do this." Don said. "You're away clean. Killing a federal agent will cause you more trouble."

"Unfortunately agent, this has to be done." Telford replied in his soft, polite tones. "You have seen us and can identify us. This is nothing personal."

"Think about what you are doing. Killing Hendrik was one thing, he was a criminal and probably deserved to die. The investigation will be quick and probably less than thorough." Don lied, the murder would be very stringently investigated as it was a death in custody. He knew his argument was hopeless, however. He wondered how long it would take the LAPD to identify him as an FBI agent from the hotel records if the relief agent hadn't shown yet. He'd used his own name checking in. Then how long would it take for them to contact the FBI, find out what Don was doing and who he was guarding. All time that was ticking away before anyone even started looking for him. He knew that process hadn't been completed yet as his phone had not yet rung. He continued, "Killing me is stupid. They won't stop until they find you. Knowing what you look like doesn't really matter. There are lots of wanted men out there that we know what they look like, doesn't mean that they are caught."

Telford appeared unmoved and the safety on Boot's gun clicked off.

"Don't do this." Don said one last time. He didn't want to die but he wasn't going to loose his dignity by begging. If he couldn't present a reasonable enough argument as to why he shouldn't be shot then he wasn't saying anything more.

He thought of Charlie and his father. He knew that his death would come as a hard blow to them, still struggling with the loss of his mother even though it had been several years. He thought of the letter kept in his apartment and addressed to his family. He'd written the letter not long after coming back to LA, just in case something like this happened to him. In it he tried to explain why he needed to do his job despite the dangers and hoped that his family would forgive him for putting himself in harm's way to protect others. He'd been back for a while now and he was sure that his father and brother did understand after having been exposed more closely to his work. Knowing that the letter was waiting for them to read, however, brought a measure of comfort to Don. He closed his eyes, wanting the last images in his mind to be the faces of his family.