Chapter 3

Quest Compound, Maine

Dr. Benton Quest was already awake and finishing his breakfast when he heard the phone ring. Curiosity as to who would be calling so early arose in his mind almost immediately when he considered that it was just past 5 A.M. Passing through the kitchen into the expansive living room, he felt the presence of his son's dog Bandit following behind him. Bandit whined at the scientist when the pooch realized that the man was leaving the kitchen without providing a bowl of kibble for the little dog.

"It's okay, boy," Dr. Quest said to the dog as he took the phone from the cradle. "Be patient."

Bandit huffed and trotted back to the kitchen.

"Hello?" Dr. Quest said into the receiver.

"Sorry to disturb you so early, Doctor Quest," The voice on the other line stated directly.

"It's alright." Dr. Quest replied, "Who am I speaking to?"

"Sir, my name is Agent Callahan. I'm with Intelligence One and I was calling to speak with Agent Bannon."

"May I inquire as to what this about, Agent?" Dr. Quest said as he made his way towards the stairs that led to Race's room.

Hesitation on the other end of the phone set Dr. Quest a bit on edge, "I'm sorry, Doctor. But I was told to speak with Agent Bannon concerning an event that took place here in D.C. last night."

"What event is that, Agent?" Dr. Quest asked as he knocked on the bedroom door of his bodyguard. A moment later a bleary eyed Race cracked the door open.

"Ah," the young agent started, "A shooting. Sir, is Agent Bannon available?"

"A shooting?" Dr. Quest repeated, causing Race to motion for the phone. Before the Agent on the other end of the line had time to respond, Benton handed the phone to Race and shrugged.

Race went immediately into high-alert mode as he spoke, "This is Race Bannon. What shooting are you talking about?"

Speaking to the infamous Race Bannon must have flustered the young Agent and he stammered, "Sir, I was directed to call you and inform you that you need to report to D.C. immediately."

"What's this about? I don't take orders from just any I-1 Agent that calls this house," Race said sternly. "Who directed you to call here?"

"Special Agent Simpson, Sir."

Benton saw a look of confusion cross his bodyguard's face, however since he could no longer hear the other side of the conversation he wasn't sure what had been said to make Race react in such a manner.

"Special Agent Simpson?" Race covered the bottom of the phone with his hand and spoke softly to Benton. "Simpson is second in command at I-1."

Benton nodded, "I'll go get the boys up and moving," and headed down the hall.

"What's your name?" Race asked the man on the other end of the line.

The answer came with a bit of annoyance, "Agent Callahan, Sir. I'm fairly new. I was told you need to report immediately. That's all."

"Understood, Agent Callahan. We are on our way, but may I ask, why is SA Simpson telling you to call and not Director Corbin?"

Silence at the other end of the line made Race think that the other agent may have hung up, but he could still hear breathing.

"Sir, that's what this is about. I don't know all the details; no one does at this point."

Race felt his face flush hot with anger. He hated getting the runaround. "Spit it out, Callahan," Race barked as he began opening dresser drawers, throwing clothes to pack onto his bed.

"Director Corbin was shot last night."

Race froze. "Shot? Where? By whom?"

"Sir, you need to report immediately," Callahan stated once again and then hung up.

"Damn!" Race spat as he threw the phone down onto his bed.

Benton was back in the threshold of the bedroom. "What's going on, Race?"

"Get packed, Benton. We're heading to D.C. Someone shot Corbin last night."

Race heard the older man inhale.

"Any details?"

Race shook his head as he grabbed a suitcase from his closet. "Of course not. That's what happens when some low level field agent calls. Tells you just enough to get you worked up and nothing else."

Benton hesitated before turning away, but then asked, "Is he dead?"

Race stopped and looked at the older man. "I have no idea."

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Once the pain in Jessie's head finally subsided to nothing more than a low drumming against the inside of her skull, her stomach announced that it was empty. Not knowing how long it had been since she was kidnapped and not yet seeing or hearing from her captors, both anger and fear surfaced in her mind. The isolation of the small, dark, cramped room made her desperation even worse. She moved off the bunk and to the heavy steel door and banged as hard as she could. When there was no answer she banged harder, continuing to bang her fist against the metal until her hand was numb.

"Hey," she cried out, "let me out of here."

Still no answer.

"Let me out of here now and I promise my dad won't hurt you too bad!" she shouted and then continued to bang on the door with her other fist.

Either the shouts or the banging, or perhaps both were enough to annoy her captors and within minutes Jessie heard heavy footsteps on the far side of the door. A moment later the viewing slit opened and Jessie recoiled from the sudden, albeit small, amount of light that suddenly entered the room.

"Quiet down!" the man on spat.

Jessie noticed he had a thick accent, probably Eastern European. Jessie cataloged the information in her mind, perhaps the first clue as to solving the identity of her captors and why they had taken her.

Thinking quickly, she decided to play into the role of the helpless, scared girl, "I'm sorry," she replied meekly, "but I'm hungry."

"I do not care."

"Please, can you please bring me something to eat and some water? I'll be quiet after that, I promise."

The man appeared to be contemplating her request. "Be quiet. I'll see what I can do."

Jessie didn't have time to respond before the man closed the slit, cutting off the little source of light she had savored. "Well at least I know I'm not alone. Please hurry up, daddy," She whimpered as she went and sat back down on the metal slab she had for a bed.

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A black SUV awaited Race and the Quests when they arrived at the airport in D.C. The driver identified himself as Agent Callahan and Race was taken aback by how young the man looked. As Callahan loaded the luggage into the back of the vehicle, Race climbed into the front passenger seat as Benton, Jonny, and Hadji got into the back of the vehicle. Once Callahan got in and pulled away from the curb, Race flooded the young agent with a slew of questions.

"What's going on, Callahan? What happened? How did it happen? Is there a suspect?"

Callahan sighed, "I'm taking you to the hospital. You'll be filled in on the details once we arrive."

"Is Director Corbin dead?" Hadji asked from the back seat.

Callahan shook his head and Benton noticed Race's posture slack in relief. "He made it out of surgery about an hour ago. That's all I really know."

Benton asked, "What's his condition?

Callahan shrugged. "Stable, but they're watching him closely. He lost a lot of blood and it was touch and go for a while from what I've been told."

Jonny was the next to speak. "So any idea who did it?"

Callahan remained silent.

"Well?" Race stated with an authoritative tone in his voice that the other agent could not ignore.

"You'll be briefed when we get to the hospital." Callahan replied, never taking his eyes off the road.

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Estella woke to find herself curled on a crusty bathroom floor. She had used the stolen access card she found with Corbin's credentials to exit the building through the parking garage area, just as she had been instructed to do. Her captors had been waiting for her, so she had no chance of escaping. The men had quickly grabbed her and shoved her into the back of the van and took off. After that, the rest of the night was a haze. She grimaced as she realized she must have passed out, or was knocked out. Scanning her surroundings she realized she was in a motel or hotel bathroom. Slowly, Estella pulled herself off of the dingy floor and walked out of the restroom. The rest of the room was fairly standard; a king size bed, desk, dresser stand, and a television. Nothing of significance. She made her way to the large window next the door and peered out through the curtains. It was daytime and the light hurt her eyes. Squinting she tried to determine where she was, but there was no identifiable features within her line of sight. She tried the door. Locked, from the outside, Estella noted. Not good she thought as she made her way over to the bed and sat down on the edge. There was nothing left for her in the room, no note, laptop, computer, nothing. She realized that even the purse she had been given that contained her forged I-1 credentials, the gun, and the stolen items and file was missing as well.

Rubbing her temples her mind raced back to all the events that had just happened, events that had suddenly thrown her into a life that she did not desire. She was an archeologist, not some Government operative and definitely not a murderer. But that was what she had become, these men from her past had forced her to murder and it made her nauseous just thinking about last night. She was being forced to do things she would never contemplate doing, but she kept trying to remind herself that she had to in order to protect Jessie. The thought brought her little comfort though.

She looked at her watch, 6:02 A.M. She had heard nothing from her tormentors since she had been dropped off here. But someone had to be watching her, of that she had no doubt. If nothing else, the locked door, preventing her from leaving made her think that these men were not done with her yet.

A sudden thought entered her mind: perhaps there was no point to what she had done. Perhaps her captors had just used her to kill SA Corbin and they never intended to give Jessie back. Flooded with a new sense of dread, Estella lunged back into the restroom, fell to her knees in front of the toilet and heaved. Her body was exhausted. She started to cry. She cried for Jessie, not knowing where her daughter was and crying because she knew that it was a decision that Estella had made, when Jessie was just a child, a decision that was now causing all this. We did it to save a life and many more lives. She told herself. Estella knew that she and Corbin had done the right thing, there was no doubt about that, but she never thought this could be an outcome of that decision. And with Delic dead, the men that held her now had nothing stopping them from coming after the rest of the team.

After the latest fit of dry heaves, Estella slowly pulled herself up off of the floor. Washing her face in the dirty sink, she glanced up in the mirror. She was dismayed by her reflection; she had aged at least ten years over the course of a couple days. Dark circles and red eyes were evidence of her trauma. She was tired and exhausted and her nerves were frayed to the point where she thought she was going to shut down.

Moving out of the bathroom, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Memories from the night before flooded her head; she relived the episode in her mind over and over and felt like she was about to break out into tears again. She thought that the memories would be hazy, unclear, but they were as vivid and haunting as if she was watching them play out on the television in front of her. She remembered how scared she had felt, how disgusted she was with herself when she lied to the man that offered to help; that trusted her. The first shot. The weight of the gun as it bucked in her hand when she fired. And the blood. She hadn't thought that such a small weapon could do what it did, but it did. She remember standing over him, hitting him, and then shooting him again and the relief she felt that as she committed that final act to end his life that he was face down, so she did not have look at his face as she killed him.

Biting her lip, she held back her tears and a moment later a warm coppery liquid touched her tongue and she realized she had been biting her lip so hard that she was bleeding. It reminded her of the blood from the man she had shot. How it pooled around his body. She couldn't believe what she had done, the monster these people had turned her in to. Not only had she killed a man, she killed a man she knew. A man with a family of his own. She took from Corbin's loved ones what these evil people had taken from her. She felt no better than those responsible for taking Jessie. Part of her mind tried to justify the actions, saying it was what had to be done for Jessie, but it was the other part that tore at Estella's heart. When she had walked in Corbin's office last night she was there to kill him. She manipulated him when all he tried to do was help. She should have put the gun down and told him everything; instead she had played right into the hands of the men holding Jessie and done exactly what they wanted. And now Philip Corbin, a man that would have done anything to help her rescue Jessie, a man that would have used every resource at his disposable, was dead.

Estella had killed him in cold blood.

Having worked for Intelligence One in the past, Estella knew that all of D.C. would be looking for her and the men directing her actions must have known as well. They had made Estella their patsy. Suddenly realizing that she was locked in this room she wondered if the room had been reserved in her name and if it was then she would be tracked, she started to panic. Rising from the bed her eyes darted frantically around the room, not sure what to do. 'I wish Race was here now. He'd know what to do,' Estella thought.

The sharp shrill of the room's phone brought Estella out of her thoughts, she jumped as the phone rang, the red button flashing in tune with the tone. The light both mesmerized and frightened her at the same time. Her legs felt heavy, like two thick logs that she was forced to move. The phone continued to ring and she willed herself to move towards the sound, dreading what she would hear when she picked up the receiver.

After what had felt like an eternity, she was next to the ringing phone. She picked up the receiver and raised it to her ear. Before she could speak, a voice spoke to her. The same voice as the man who had taunted her and instructed her to kill.

"You did very well last night." The man said. Estella imagined the man on the other end of the line was grinning as he spoke. She felt light-headed, so she sat down on the bed.

"I did what you asked. Now let my daughter go." Her voice barely above a whisper.

"I never said that was all you would have to do." The man replied. "But, you did not gather all the information I requested. Your daughter will understand your failure, yes?"

"No!" Estella croaked. "I got you the file on Delic."

"But not on the girl."

"He wouldn't tell me anything about the girl!" Estella pleaded. "I tried."

"You didn't try hard enough."

"I…I ran out of time." Estella said, then added. "It was you that told me I had to kill him. What was I supposed to do?"

"Get the information and then kill him. What is so difficult about that to understand?"

"Well, I'm not a killer, so…" Estella responded, her hands were shaking and she had to use both hands to cradle the phone next to her ear.

The man on the other end of the phone laughed, "You are now, my dear."

A lump formed in Estella's throat and she had to bit down to stop herself from heaving again. "Why are you doing this?"

"You all have to pay."

Estella didn't respond. A few moments passed and then the man spoke again, "My men are waiting for you outside your room. They will take you to your next drop off point. They also have the instructions and tools you will need."

"I can't do this anymore."

The man ignored her plea, "Once you have completed your next task I will let you see your daughter. Make sure you do it right this time, or else, she will not be as pretty as she is now."

Estella gasped, all the air escaping her lungs. "Don't hurt her."

"Do as you are told and I won't." The man said and then hung up.

Estella said motionless, knowing if she tried to stand she would collapse and would not be able to get back up. The sound of the door unlocking snapped her back to reality and she hung up the phone and turned.

Two men entered, shutting and locking the door behind them. One carried a metal lockbox and another carried a shopping bag. Estella felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She also noticed that neither man wore a mask anymore; she could see their faces, which in her mind, meant only one thing. 'They don't care if I know what they look like. I'll never live long enough to identify them to anyone'.

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Race burst through the hospital doors at a furious pace. It infuriated him that he wasn't being told anything about what had happened to his superior. "Race," Jonny said as he quickened his pace to keep up with his white-haired mentor, "they probably don't know anything either."

"Bullshit," Race growled, not even realizing he had just sworn at a teenager. "Its' the Government. Don't tell me they don't know."

The group turned the corner and at the far end of the hall on the right a group of men and women were gathered. "Well it appears we are about to find out," Hadji stated in his no nonsense way.

Jonny gave his brother a quick nod and hurried along. Reaching the group of I-1 agents, Race was met with angry, even hateful looks. 'What's going on?' he thought.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming here, Bannon," A tall, muscular black man in a dark suit said. His Alpha Male persona forced him to speak for the group.

"What are you talking about, Jenkins. SA Simpson called me here."

"How is Director Corbin?" Dr. Quest asked, hoping to diffuse the tension that had suddenly engulfed the area.

Jenkins ignored Benton and leered in Agent Callahan's direction. "What did you tell them?"

Callahan shook his head. "Nothing more than I was told to tell them, Sir."

"That's right," Race stated, "So why don't you tell me?"

Hadji watched the exchange between the two men. He could not understand why they were being kept in the dark at this point now that they were here at the hospital. He also noted that the demeanor between Race and the man named Jenkins was so tense that there had to be a bitter history between the two.

"Agent Callahan said he made it out of surgery, so how is he?" Dr. Quest asked again.

Jenkins snorted as he locked gazes with Race again. "Lucky for you, Bannon, he's alright…for now."

"Lucky for me?" Race's face twisted with confusion and anger. "If you've got something to say to me, Jenkins, say it."

Jenkins took a step forward in an attempt to assert his dominance over the other agent. His face was etched with hate and without a word he shoved Race back. Race, not being one to ever back down from a fight lunged at Jenkins, but he quickly found himself restrained by Benton. The agents behind Jenkins were also holding back the other man; the anger in the room was boiling over and Benton was about to speak to try and talk the men down, but before he could get a word out the door behind them opened.

"What's going on out here?" a stern and demanding voice bolstered.

Two men exited the hospital room and Benton noticed an immediate change in the demeanor of the agents that stood in allegiance with Jenkins. Jenkins shrugged off the hands that were restraining him, but he made no other move towards Race. Instead he just continued to stare down Bannon.

"Get out of here, Agent Jenkins," the elder man that had exited the room stated. His voice demanded obedience. "Take your people and go get some coffee."

Jenkins stared at Race for a few more seconds before turning away and looking at the man that had ordered him to leave. "Yes, Sir. Just not sure if I can trust this man, Bannon, at this point. He shouldn't be here."

"That's not a decision for you to make."

"Come on, Jenkins," said one of the other agents, who had been silent up until that point, "Let's go get some coffee."

As Jenkins turned to leave he glared back at Race, a stare that could have cut through stone. "Fucking babysitter," Jenkins mumbled, but loud enough for Race, Benton, and the boys to hear. With that he and the others left the area.

The Quest clan was alone now except for the two men that had exited the hospital room and a distraught young woman on one of the hard plastic seats. Jonny noticed her for the first time since they had arrived and wondered who she was.

"Don't mind Jenkins," the older man stated once the entourage was gone. "He, like the rest of us, is wound up pretty tight with emotions."

Race nodded, but he was still pretty pissed off that Jenkins put his hands on him, he wasn't going to forget that so quickly. But for now, Race decided it was best to play nice and shook the man's hand. "Good to see you again, Sir. I just wish it wasn't under these circumstances." Race turned to Benton. "Benton, you remember Phil's father, Colonel Corbin?"

Benton shook the man's hand. "Yes, it's been a long time, Colonel."

The man shook his head. "I'm retired. You can drop the rank. It's just Brian now."

Benton nodded. "These are my boys, Jonny and Hadji."

The elder Corbin nodded. "Been a long time, gentlemen." He shook each other their hands.

The second man that had come out of the room introduced himself as Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. He said he was there to offer any help in any way the BAU could. Race nodded towards the man and then Jonny added, "You look a lot…"

Hotchner cracked a slight smile. "Yes, I know. Phil is my cousin. Another reason I'm here offering whatever help I can."

"How is he?" Benton asked, hoping that these men would give him the answer finally.

"He's asleep, doped up on a lot of painkillers. That's why we came out here when we heard the commotion," Aaron stated.

"He's been in and out of wakefulness since coming out of surgery," Brian answered. "The pain medication is keeping him pretty sedated, he hasn't really said much. Not sure he has any idea where he is let alone what's going on. His mother is in there with him as well as Sarah and the kids."

Race nodded. "How did this happen?"

"Well, lucky for Phil your ex isn't a very good shot," Aaron replied. "She managed not to hit any vital organs or arteries. The first shot fractured his collarbone though as the bullet exited."

Race and the others stared at the two men in shock. "What do you mean? My ex?" Race stammered.

Hotchner and Brian exchanged shocked glances, and Hotchner said, "You haven't been told?"

"Obviously not!" Jonny declared.

They all sat down in the hard plastic chairs, forming a crude semi-circle in front of the door. Brian walked over to the young woman that was still sitting by herself and whispered something in her ear, causing her to glance at the others, nod, and join the group.

"This is Ms. Saunders, Phil's assistant. She was there last night when it happened," Brian said as he offered the young lady a seat with the group.

"Perhaps we should start at the beginning," Brian started. "Ms. Saunders can provide as much information as she knows."

The young woman nodded. Race observed her mannerisms and saw how genuinely upset she was. He guessed she was the one that had found Corbin after the shooting.

Ms. Saunders cleared her throat, trying to compose herself before speaking. After a few moments she began. "It was a little after eight, last night. Director Corbin was working late so he could spend some time with his family this weekend. I was working on some modules for an examination. A few other people were around, but not many. Most people are gone for the evening by then." She glanced at the group and continued, "Well, this woman entered my office and asked to see him. If I had known…" she turned towards Phil's father with a pleading look on her face, she was obviously overcome with guilt. The older man patted her hand in a fatherly manner.

"It's alright, Lisa. You had no way of knowing."

The statement appeared to reassure the woman and she continued. "She said her name was Estella Velasquez. So I ringed into his office and he said to show her in. About fifteen minutes later she left. She even was talking as she walked out his office door, you know, saying thank you for seeing her so late or something like that. How could she do that? Knowing what she had done?"

Hotchner spoke, "Probably part of the ruse to not alert you to anything being amiss."

"Did you not hear anything at all?" Hadji asked the young woman. "How could you not hear gunfire?"

The last question seemed to wound her, however she shook her head and continued. "No. I did notice the blinds were closed, but he sometimes closes them when he is working on something that is classified. I figured that was the case this time as well. But I didn't hear anything." She looked away, somewhat ashamed. "You see, I was listening to music on my headphones."

"What?" Race exclaimed causing the woman to jump.

"Director Corbin told me it was okay to do so when I worked late. It helps me concentrate on my studies," She said in a sheepish, but defensive tone.

"It's okay, dear," Brian said, shooting Race an unhappy look. "Again, you didn't know what was happening."

"Well, the woman left and I didn't hear anything from Director Corbin. Earlier he had told me he was hoping to finish up by 8:30 or so. It was almost 9:00 when I knocked on his door to see if he had anything else for me before I went home. When he didn't answer I opened the door and saw…" She started tearing up.

"Please, go on if you can," Benton said in a sincere tone.

"The first thing I saw was that some things were on the floor. The monitor for his computer and some files. Then the rest just hit me all at once. That's when I saw him lying on the carpet…there was blood everywhere. I rushed over to him and he was still breathing, but very lightly. I ran out into the hallway, screamed for help and called 911. A few other agents arrived, saw the scene, and I managed to say something about the woman, and they ran off."

She looked at her hands before continuing, "There was so much blood. I tried to press down on his wounds, you know, to stop the bleeding. I don't know if it helped at all. It seemed like eternity until paramedics arrived and took over."

She looked at Phil's father. "I'm so sorry, Sir. I wish I could have stopped her."

He shook his head; again Race saw the genuine comforting look in the man's features. "You did all you could. Trying to stop the bleeding probably slowed it down enough to save his life. You did just as you should have, Lisa." She nodded. "You should go home and try to get some rest. We'll call you when his condition changes."

The woman nodded and stood. SSA Hotchner stood and fished his phone from his suit jacket pocket. "I'll have one of my team members take you home. They'll get your car from I-1 and take it to your house later." He led the woman away from the group down the hall.

Seeing the FBI agent pull out his cell phone made Race jump and do the same.

"Race what are you doing?" Jonny asked.

"Calling Estella. This can't be true. It just can't be."

"Sit down, Race," Brian ordered. "We've already tried to contact her and no luck. I don't think she's going to answer her phone any time soon."

"You don't understand, sir. My daughter Jessie is with her."

The retired Colonel shook his head. "There was no report of her. All reports indicted Estella was alone when she shot my son."

Benton placed a hand on Race's arm, prompting the man to sit. Then he turned his attention back to Brian. "So, how do we know it was Estella? It could have been someone using her name."

"Phil wouldn't let just anybody into his office at that time of night. And he would have immediately been on alert if someone entered that was using her name and it wasn't her that appeared. No, Doctor, I believe it was her. I-1 is going through the surveillance footage as well to verify."

"This doesn't make any sense," Jonny announced. "Why would Estella do something like this? And where's Jessie?"

"That's what we have to find out," Race declared. "Is there anything else?" Race said as Hotchner reappeared.

"Not now," Hotchner stated dryly.

"Can we see him?"

Brian shook his head. "No. Like I said, he's still recovering. And honestly, Mr. Bannon, you're probably the last person those women in there want to see walk through that door."

Race couldn't argue with the man's logic. It seemed all of Washington, D.C. was ready to hold him responsible for gunning Corbin down as if he had done the deed himself.

"So, what now?" Jonny asked; his anxiety growing as it became clear that Jessie was missing and there was more to what was going on than an attempted murder of a federal agent. His concern for Jessie was growing and knowing her tenacity and aggressiveness Jonny hoped that Jessie wasn't in a position to be harmed. He thought of all the times in the past when they were in danger, captured by one bad guy, held at gunpoint by another, and he realized that when they were together they always came out on the winning end. But now Jessie was alone and needed their help.

"Some of my team is at I-1 headquarters now, going over the crime scene," Hotchner said.

"Your team?" Benton asked.

"FBI handles domestic cases, Doctor," Hotchner replied. "And especially since Phil's my cousin I'm taking this personally. Of course we are working hand in hand with I-1, but they are focusing on possible international ties. My people are trying to track down Ms. Velasquez. We are working on the assumption that she is in hiding somewhere in or near the capital."

"International ties?" Race asked.

"I'll have my team brief you on the way to I-1 headquarters. No better place to start than the crime scene, agreed?" Hotchner said. "I'm going to stay here, check on Phil to see if he's awake. I'll meet you over there."

"Let's go then," Jonny said. "Jessie's counting on us!" As an afterthought he added, "And so is Estella."

To Be Continued…