Justice by InSilva
Disclaimer: still just paddling.
A/N: and this is the other half of the stupid length chapter. It runs on immediately from the last.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Search2
Tess couldn't sleep. She and Danny had a room opposite the main suite at the Standard where Reuben resided and Livingston worked and most of the others slumped and took it in turns to watch and wait.
Danny had called her from Rio and she had tried to sound everything she wasn't feeling. He'd told her that they had had some information and leads but nothing too definite. She'd thought he'd sounded tired and she hoped he was finding time to rest. He'd told her he loved her and she'd smiled at the thought that no one was listening and then wondered if it was only when Rusty was listening that he had trouble saying it.
Now she was lying in a bed that felt empty, staring at a ceiling and wondering whether she should have insisted on going with him. She'd never been this close to the action. She'd never seen this side of things. And she'd never been exposed to the direct worry that seeing this side of things engendered. It was worse than imagining because all it did was fuel your imagination.
Right now, she was picturing Danny going after Rusty and either or both of them being hurt beyond help or reason. She knew that she needed to worry about Rusty as much as she did Danny. She'd known it back at the hospital when she'd found out where Rusty had gone. Because if anything happened to Rusty, she had no doubt that it would destroy Danny. And her biggest fear was that she would not be enough to build him up again.
In Rio, Danny was also awake. Frustration filled him. It was the second night in the city and still no real breakthrough. He knew it took time but he also knew that time was a factor they did not have in great supply. Rusty was that good. And so was Vincente. When he closed his eyes, Danny saw the warehouse with the chains and the pain. Vincente would not need to be so protracted or so restrained. And since he was pragmatic in the extreme, he wouldn't be.
Every time he played it through in his head, Vincente won. Every time he played it through in his head, he wanted to go out on the streets and look for Rusty.
Sighing, he got out of bed and dressed and padded through to the living area. With his mind elsewhere, he saw the glint of the light on the blond and the figure hunched over the table with the papers everywhere and he blinked. And then a second later, he realised it was Linus and his heart started beating again.
"Can't you sleep?" he asked.
"Thought I'd have another look at the-"
"Come on over the bar with me," Danny interrupted, "and let me buy you a drink."
The barman nodded when he saw them come in and set up the whiskies. There were some people from last night and from last night's poker game and they nodded at them too. Danny guessed that they'd lost enough money gracefully enough to win the passing friendship.
They were invited over to join a couple of the erstwhile card-players and Danny prepared himself to buy a few rounds and pass the time of day.
"You find your friend? The Americano?" asked one with a moustache that seemed unlikely and Linus shook his head.
"We're still looking," Danny said.
"Luck and health," said another with a smile that had far too many teeth.
After a while, Danny excused himself and visited the facilities. When he came back, Linus was sandwiched in between the Moustache and the Smile and had an air of quiet desperation.
As Danny sat down opposite, Linus leaned across the table and hissed at him, "They keep saying things and looking at me!"
Oh, Danny wanted so much for someone to share the moment with. He took pity on him and leaned across so that only Linus could hear.
"It's the hair, Linus. Fair hair and blue eyes are unusual in Latin countries."
They sat back and Linus looked slightly but not greatly relieved. Danny was busy remembering the first time he and Rusty had hit Italy. Even Rusty who had grown used long ago to ignoring appraising looks and admiring glances, even Rusty had noticed and realised and given a resounding "Huh".
"We still asking about your friend," the Moustache assured them and Danny thanked them.
The Smile kept looking at Linus as if he wanted to rub a little bit of blond hair through his fingers.
"Drink up," Danny said and Linus did so gratefully.
They said their goodbyes and headed back to the apartment.
The next day, Santos and Rico arrived bright and early and they split once more into two groups. Turk, Saul and Santos headed back to the newsvendor to carry on surveillance. The other three headed for the more violent quarter of the city.
"You look after them, Rico," Santos had said when they'd told him where they were going. "Don't give your Uncle Miguel unnecessary paperwork."
Rico had rolled his eyes and led Danny and Linus into one veritable den of iniquity after another in search of information.
"How does he know where to go?" Linus hissed after their third such visit.
Danny shrugged. He had noticed that Rico walked with complete immunity through such places. Something told him that Santos had been bringing Rico with him on little trips like these for some time. Plus it couldn't hurt that your uncle could have people arrested.
The stakeout of the newsvendor had proved fruitless.
"I'm sorry," he said when they finally approached him. "The man has not been past for a few days now. I can only think that he has something to occupy him at present."
And whether the man in question was Vincente or Rusty, Saul did not like the thought of that one little bit.
"Come on," Santos said encouragingly. "Let's try the lodgings down here. Someone may have seen him."
In LA, Reuben was conducting an unofficial tour of the hotel. Casting an official eye over things, he had to say he was impressed by the ambition Rusty had displayed.
In spite of the taste Rusty displayed in shiny suits and shirts which others described as heinous but which Reuben never had that much of a problem with, refurbishment of a clean and crisp nature had taken place. Staff were well-trained and helpful and polite. The food was elegant and contemporary. The little details in the bedrooms like the complimentary fruit and chocolates were thoughtful and appreciated.
All in all, he had to give Rusty his due. He ran the place with a good feeling for staff morale and motivation and a good idea of what customers wanted.
Reuben bet it was costing him an arm and a leg.
Having taken their turn to monitor Livingston's "find Rusty" station, Frank had taken Basher out on a public tour of Beverley Hills, home to the stars.
"Amazing!" Basher declared as they passed by one particular fortress.
"Where the rich man likes to party and the poor man serves the drinks," Frank nodded. He waited.
"You think a simple coil fuse would blow those doors?"
"You're the expert, my man, you tell me."
Thereafter, the tour took an interesting turn.
Back in the main suite that Danny had charmed, along with the rest of the rooms, out of Kirsty, Livingston was busy with wires and dials and headphones.
"He knows what he's doing, right?" Virgil asked Yen with a sceptical note in his voice.
Yen snorted and muttered something derisory.
"I heard that," Livingston called over. "Anytime you think you can run a sweep and locate on another continent-"
He broke off as Yen's phone rang. Yen answered and listened as Livingston threw switches frantically. The call lasted for less than ten seconds. Livingston hit rewind and play and they heard Rusty say, "I'm fine" and hang up.
"Guess he don't need to say much more," Virgil said slowly.
Yen asked the question and Livingston shook his head.
"Didn't even get warmed up," he said sadly.
Feet aching, the two groups had returned with no firm news once more.
"Don't lose heart, my friends," Santos said. "Something will happen soon, I promise."
As he and Rico left, Saul sighed.
"I'm terribly afraid, Daniel, that Santos is right."
Danny's phone rang.
"Rusty called," Livingston said. "He just said he was fine and hung up. I didn't get a fix on him. I couldn't get a fix on him, Danny."
There was so much apology wrapped up in the last phrase that Danny winced.
"It's OK, Livingston, I know you'd have tried."
Turk had disappeared to the grocery store on the corner and arrived back with ingredients for chilli.
"You can cook?" Linus said with surprise.
"He can certainly cook chilli," Saul smiled with fond remembrance.
Dinner over, some time close to midnight, Danny and Linus sat on the couch with a bottle of whisky between them. Danny had wanted to go back to the bar opposite to check for leads but Linus had flat out refused. Turk and Saul had said they would go instead.
Linus looked anything but comfortable. Danny leaned back into the leather and waited.
"If anything-" Linus began eventually and then stopped. "What I mean is, should anything- that is, if anything…"
"Spit it out, Linus."
"What would we do?" Linus asked.
Danny considered the question.
"What you would do – what you would all do – is get on a plane and go home. And I may have to ask you to make sure Saul goes."
"What about you?" Linus whispered.
Danny smiled. Calmly. With absolute composure. Frightening as hell. Linus almost backed away from him.
"I would stay," he said quietly. "For as long as it took."
His phone rang.
"Danny!"
"Yeah, Livingston."
"You need to hear this."
Somewhere in a room in LA, Danny imagined switches being flicked and buttons being pressed and then he heard incoherent noise and chatter and tried to make sense of it.
Linus's phone rang and he answered and passed it over to Danny. It was Livingston giving commentary on one phone while Danny listened to the other.
"It's Rusty's phone. Somehow it's hit redial."
Danny could not help the grin that was spreading across his face.
"He doesn't know."
"He doesn't know," Livingston confirmed.
"You can-"
"I can." The note of happy competence in Livingston's voice was strong. "Well, as long as he stays in one place long enough. If he goes on the move, it's going to be more of a guesstimate."
"Where is he?" Danny was trying to make out the muffled noises.
"Some sort of bar or restaurant, I think."
There were more noises of chatter and then a quiet little oasis and Danny heard Rusty say, "Mind if I join you?"
"Mr Ryan. As I live and breathe."
It was fainter but it was unmistakable. And Danny's throat knotted with fear. Vincente sounded amused and not at all fazed and Danny listened to their exchanges with mounting anxiety.
"Livingston," he hissed into Linus's phone. "Get moving."
"I am." Livingston sounded wounded.
Danny heard Vincente say "I was right, wasn't I?" followed by "When I said it would hurt you more" and his fingers gripped the phone so tightly that part of him idly wondered if he would ever be able to unclamp his fingers. Because Vincente was right…absolutely right…it hurt like fury.
"What's going on?" Linus whispered, not wanting to disturb but wanting to know.
"Rusty's confronting Vincente in a bar," Danny said tersely.
"But that's…that's…"
"Stupid? Yeah."
"In public?" Linus said, disbelievingly.
Danny shushed him, his attention fully back on Rusty because there was a note in Rusty's voice that Danny did not like and did not recognise. Slurry and loud. It sounded as if…
"Are you feeling unwell?"
Danny closed his eyes even as Rusty asked "Wh-what did you do?" because Danny's mind had already started joining up the dots. By the time Rusty had come up with the name of what he'd been fed, Danny had already figured out he'd been drugged.
"Rohypnol," he shot out the side of his mouth at Linus.
"Rohyp…oh, that's not good. That's all memory loss and blackouts and no control…" Linus tailed off and bit his lip.
Danny heard Rusty forcing out the words "Get off me" and he squeezed his eyes further shut because there had never, ever been anything wrong with his imagination and right now he could picture it all, all too painfully. Vincente helping him up, Rusty having to let him...
"They're on the move," he said urgently to Livingston.
"I know, I know," came the answer and Danny stopped himself from yelling at Livingston because he knew he would be working as frantically as Danny would have wished to come up with a location.
Opening his eyes, he turned to Linus and gave him such a fierce look that Linus took a step back.
"Go and find the others," Danny instructed. "We need to be ready to go."
Linus practically fell out of the door.
By the time he'd found Saul and Turk and used Turk's phone to contact Santos and explained and explained again and all of them had arrived at the apartment, Danny was yelling at Livingston.
"For fuck's sake! What's so difficult?"
Saul immediately laid a hand on his arm and Danny turned eyes that were full of misery and fury on him.
"He's got Rusty…" Danny had to take a breath to steady himself and then went on. "He's got Rusty and he's taking him somewhere and Livingston can't tell me where!"
The last was shouted down the phone.
"Daniel…" Saul said warningly and Danny made himself come back from the edge.
"Sorry. Sorry, Livingston," he muttered.
Linus was busy unfolding the maps. "Do we have any clues?"
Danny listened to Rusty being guided who knew where and tried to ignore the little breathy noises and the occasional moan.
"They were in a bar. They've come out. They've met people. They've taken a short cut to somewhere…" The agony of not knowing was raw. "They got jumped but Vincente dealt with whoever. And now…"
Saul and Turk's phones rang.
"I'm plugging you guys in, too," Livingston said as they listened and Linus and Santos hovered. "I can't get a clear fix. He's still just in Rio."
"It's a big city," Turk pointed out.
"Not helpful," Danny snapped.
He turned his attention back to Rusty. There was a new noise in the background.
"What is that, Livingston? Static?"
"No…it's definitely their end…"
"It's the ocean," Saul said suddenly and Linus and Santos pored over the maps.
Danny felt the foreboding reach out and grip him. He heard "Mr Ryan? Rusty? You still with me?" and he tasted blood. He hadn't even realised that he'd been biting his lip.
"This is a very exclusive area of beach, Mr Ryan…these villas up here are owned by the rich. I should know. I'm borrowing one at the moment."
Vincente's voice was much clearer and Danny puzzled over that and then came, "Even though this is an exclusive area, still you find the odd tourist who comes here to swim" and Danny found his legs would no longer hold him. He sank into a nearby chair.
"He's going to drown him," he said tonelessly. "He's going to take his clothes off and leave him in the water to die."
And he had to listen to it and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. In his mind's eye, he could see Rusty, naked and helpless, in the water and unable to move, waves closing over his head, being able to see safety but not being able to reach it. The state Rusty was in, it didn't need to be deep water. And Vincente would watch. Undoubtedly. Just to make sure.
"Please, Livingston." It wasn't angry, it wasn't loud, it was quiet and desperate and it offered up the world if only the plea would be answered.
"I can't, Danny," and Livingston, he knew, was crying. "There's too much interference…"
"Can't we just go and find a beach?" Turk asked urgently.
Santos shook his head. "There are miles of beach."
Saul squeezed Danny's shoulder though he barely felt it. Millions, they had between them. Millions. And it didn't matter a damn.
Then the words came crystal clear:
"You know, if I were into trophies, this would be particularly apt, don't you think? Mr Ocean has had some really interesting messages, you know? Guess not everyone knows he's deceased."
"Phones…he's still got my phone…Livingston!" Danny's voice was back in control. "Can you use my phone to-"
"It'll help!"
"Anyway. I think…Mr Thomas O'Leary from Illinois sadly had too much confidence in his ability to hold his drink and swim."
"Hurry!"
"Long, slow and final, Mr Ryan. Remember?"
"Livingston!"
"Tide comes in quickly here...but don't worry, I'll keep you company however long it takes."
"Danny, I can't get a lock," Livingston sounded as frantic as Danny felt. "There's only two signals. I need a third to tie it down precisely. All I've got is an area-"
Danny thrust the phone at Saul. He didn't want to listen to the technical. He didn't want to hear Livingston say he couldn't. All he knew was that Rusty was this close to drowning and even though he was in the same city, he could as easily have been the other side of the world. He was going to lose him. He was going to-
An idea leapt into Danny's head. Just as he never tried to work out the way Rusty's brain operated when it came to detail and recall, so he never bothered trying to pin down exactly where his own plans came from. They just arrived fully formed in outline. And right now, he was willing to try anything.
With a shaking hand, he grabbed Linus's phone back off Saul, closed the call and started punching numbers.
Hands pulled him up out of the water. He heard a heartfelt "Damn!" and he was swung up over a strong shoulder. And then he blacked out.
A few hours later, Rusty came to with a groan, half-opened his eyes and promptly heaved. A bowl was placed with immaculate timing under his mouth and a hand rubbed his back.
"Thanks," he muttered.
He tried to remember what had happened but everything was blurry and that was frightening. Truly chill-to-the-bone kind of frightening. His powers of recall were always razor-sharp. Memories and names and faces and places were always there, just waiting. And sometimes that could be a bad thing but most of the time it was useful and the point was that all of the time it just was. And now, suddenly, it wasn't.
He remembered speaking to Danny but that had been days ago, surely. There were cats and a watermelon...and a bar…the bar…he couldn't get any further with any degree of coherence. Faces and lights and noise fused together though there was sand and water at some point, he was sure.
His head ached like the worst hangover in the world. It felt incredibly heavy and muddled. He forced his eyes further open and took in the couch he was lying propped up on and the blanket over him. There was an all-pervading smell of salt and his skin felt crusty.
He brought his hand up to rub the corner of his mouth and stopped short and blinked. His hands were tied. And then he realised he was naked. Naked and bound and with no memory. That could not be a good combination.
"You planning on throwing up again?" Vincente asked. "Or am I safe to go and empty this?"
Vincente keeps his foot in place even though he isn't sure it's strictly necessary. Ryan is now completely under the waves when they break and it will not be long before the end.
The phone he'd taken from Ocean beeps in his pocket and he digs it out, ready to pass a moment or two reading another message.
"Vincente," it says, "if you kill him, it will be another death to answer for. Friends of Marcello."
He stares at the text. And then he pulls his foot from the water and spins round on the beach. Who knows where he is and what he is doing and more importantly, who knows he has this phone? One man who is dead and one man who is dying.
Vincente needs to know how close the pursuit is. He looks down at the water and sighs. Then he reaches down and pulls Ryan up and out of it.
Ryan hangs there for a moment and Vincente swears mildly but with feeling. Then he swings him up over his shoulder, gathers up Ryan's clothes and heads for the villa. He and Mr Ryan have some things to discuss.
Sitting on the couch, Rusty stared stupidly at him and Vincente sighed.
"Oh, this is going to take some time."
A/N: er...still more naked!Rusty, I guess...