Traveler, Season Two

by Macex

Jay, Tyler and Will attempt to stay out of harm's way while seeking information on the mysterious Fourth Branch.

5. Chapter 5

While I knew my vacation would interfere with my ability to complete this segment in a timely fashion, I never expected the chapter to take this long to finish. I'm sorry to have kept readers waiting. The nuances of one storyline proved to be particularly evasive and required a lot of rewrites.

TRAVELER, SEASON TWO

EPISODE 5: THE THORN, Part 1

The thorn from the bush one has planted, nourished and pruned pricks more deeply and draws more blood. Maya Angelou

After seven rings failed to get a response, Marlow was about to give up on her call to Ian Stewart when the grizzled veteran of more than twenty-five years finally answered his phone. When she'd met Stewart the night before, she'd formed an instant impression of a man who was still in the marines because the corps had become more than a job for him: it was his life.

"Sorry to take so long," he said, his voice as no-nonsense as she remembered it. "I was going through check-in at the base when the phone rang."

"Hanley said you think you saw Nightingale. I'd like to walk you through the encounter, if you don't mind."

"Let me pull over first. I don't want to block traffic." It wasn't long before he said, "Okay. Fire away."

Marlow had already set her phone on speaker, leaving her hands free to take notes. "Let's start at the beginning. What first caught your eye?"

"A vehicle parked on the shoulder. I had a flashback moment and my gut kind of went queasy. Over in the sandbox I saw more than my share of abandoned vehicles that were rigged with explosives.

"Even as those old memories fluttered through my mind, I knew I was in the US of A, and I wondered if the driver could use a hand. I'm not a mechanic but I can change a tire or jump a battery. Then I noticed two guys standing near the car. They looked young and fit, and weren't trying to flag down help or anything, so I figured my services weren't needed."

"Hanley said you saw three men."

"Not at first," Stewart broke in before Marlow could get to her question. "At first, I could only see the two. Their backs were to me. They seemed to be talking to a third person, but I couldn't be sure; their bodies blocked my view."

"The two you saw first, you said they were young and fit. But if you could only see their backs, how did you make that judgment?"

When Stewart didn't immediately reply, Marlow knew he was replaying the scene in his mind. "A lot was based on their build," he finally said. "They were lean-looking, trim. But also from their clothes. Both of them were wearing jeans and those sweatshirts with hoods that are so popular with young people. And hats; they had on hats, a ball cap and a bush hat."

"Did you see their faces?"

"Not long enough that I could give you a description. As soon as the one in the darker sweatshirt turned around, I spotted the third man. There was something about the way he was standing that sent my mind plunging right back to Iraq again, but in a good way rather than a bad way. I thought it had to be a mirage. Then I glanced at his face and was so startled I almost ran into the guardrail. I wasn't sure when I talked to Pete, but the more I think about it, the more sure I am: it was that Carrington boy. There just can't be more than one kid that size who carries himself like he's the biggest, baddest dude in town."

"So you're basing your identification on body language?"

"Mostly. And your picture. Traffic kept getting between us, but there were moments when my view was clear; it was the face in your picture."

"What else do you remember? Anything about the car?"

"I'd almost forgotten that," Stewart said. "The other reason I figured they were young... It was a green SUV and it was covered with mud. I figured they were off roading, which seems like more of a young man's activity. And I wondered if they'd gotten a bit careless and damaged it, and that's why they were stopped."

"Do you know the make?"

Stewart sighed. "Sorry, no. I just know it was dirty." He sounded sheepish as he continued, "I know men are supposed to recognize all of those macho SUVs on sight, but I've always driven compacts. Cars are just transportation to me."

"Is there anything else?"

Again he paused, taking almost a full minute to answer. "I was almost even with them when the second fellow started back to the car. The first one was already opening the door to the front passenger seat. When I looked in my rear view mirror, Nightingale hadn't budged from where I first saw him. I was left with the impression of a rock that was never going to move. Then I was around a bend and they were out of sight.

"But he must have moved," Stewart said a moment later. "Because the three of them and the car were gone when I circled back. I almost think they had to have gotten off at that exit or I would have seen them again. It's hard to miss an SUV covered in mud."

"Stewart, I owe you big time," Marlow said. "Now if you can just give me one more piece of information. I need to know the number of the exit."

xxx

"Jess, Jess, stop."

Jess Chambers glanced in her bike's side mirror and saw a familiar purple and gold helmet closing in behind her. Braking, she directed her bike into the grass next to the paved path. "Amy, I thought we were meeting at Starbucks in an hour."

"We are." Amy skidded in next to her. "But I couldn't wait, and I knew you'd be headed for the library around now. Look..." Reaching into her backpack, Amy pulled out the morning edition of the New York Citizen and passed it over. "Check out the picture on page three."

Jess flipped open the newspaper and scanned the page; her eyes immediately zeroed in on a face she hadn't seen in almost three years. "Gabriel!"

"Gabriel, whose last name turns out to be Fog," Amy said. "His brother is Tyler Fog."

Jess could feel her eyes widen. "The guy who blew up the Drexler?"

"One and the same."

"That's my dad's case." Jess scanned the article. "I remember Gabriel said he had a brother. It says he's in the military; he's been in Iraq."

"They gave him leave because his father was shot."

"Carlton Fog," Jess recalled. "My dad was there when it happened. One of his men was killed while trying to catch the shooter. Dad was really upset."

Amy tapped the article with her finger. "Well, I guess we don't have to worry about what Gabe spent to repair the car you borrowed from Chris. He's a Fog. That bill was pocket change for him."

"It was still a kind gesture," Jess said. "I'll never forget that evening. It was dark, and there wasn't any traffic on that sliver of a country road, and I couldn't get a signal on my cell phone. I might have been there all night if he hadn't come along. Then for him to arrange to pay the bills for the tow truck and the repair, I don't know what I would have done without him. I didn't even have a credit card back then. And he made the mechanic promise not to tell me the bills were paid until after he left. And he waited until you got there to make sure I had a ride home. That's going way beyond generous and thoughtful."

Amy rolled her eyes. "I seem to recall your mentioning that at least a hundred times on the way back to the dorm."

"It deserved saying." Jess folded up the paper and handed it back to her friend. "Poor Gabe. He's got a brother in serious trouble and a dad in the hospital."

"I don't like the sound of that. He's not one of those dogs that you're always running off to rescue."

"I owe him the money."

"He doesn't need the money."

"But he might need a friendly face. He went out of his way for me."

"It's your father's case," Amy reminded her.

"Well, it's not my case. He was my guardian angel. It's the least I can do."

xxx

Sheer stubbornness kept Will from succumbing to the swirling vortex that tugged him toward a white void. For long seconds, perhaps even minutes, he could do nothing but maintain a tenuous hold on consciousness as a maelstrom raged around and through him. Logic told him he was securely anchored by gravity, but his spinning senses were delivering an entirely different perception, one that made him think he'd been thrown into the tornado that swept Dorothy to Oz.

Finally, gradually, the whirlwind slowed and he began to reconnect to his shadow self, his mind slipping back into a body that was dizzy, achy and nauseous. As his awareness sharpened, he detected a cushion of human flesh supporting his head and hands smoothing over his arms.

It had to be Jay, because no one else had been in the room when he'd-

"Tyler!" Jay's worried shout interrupted his musings and motivated Will to stir.

"I'm all right," he managed to whisper. But it was at least another thirty seconds before he could give credence to the lie by tapping into a reserve of energy that allowed him to roll onto the floor, landing on his stomach. "I stood up too quickly. That's all."

By concentrating on every slight detail of movement, he was able to plant his hands on the carpet, one at a time, and blink open his eyes. The world was undulating in a topsy turvy motion, but not so much that he couldn't compensate. Utilizing a second concentration of resources, he flipped onto his back and propped himself on his elbows just as Tyler burst into the room.

"What's going on?" Tyler asked, his eyes darting from Will to Jay.

Jay made a sweeping gesture toward Will before climbing to his feet. "He passed out."

"Not quite," Will said. "It was a moment of lightheadedness." He dug deep and found his most charming Will-the-graduate-student smile. "I could use a hand up."

Jay reached down to take Will's left hand. Tyler followed a moment later, a dubious expression on his face as he grasped Will's right arm. Together, they easily hauled him to his feet.

"Maybe you should sit down," Tyler said, keeping a firm grip on his elbow. Will made a feeble attempt to shake free before allowing him to guide him to the sofa. He didn't make any effort to ease down, he simply unlocked his knees and let his body drop. The jarring landing sent a painful wave lancing through his side. He clenched his lips, closed his eyes and waited for it to subside.

His head had gone from floating to almost too heavy to hold up. Leaning it against the back of the sofa, he repeated, "I'm all right." This time the words were directed inward, to himself, because anything less than all right simply wasn't acceptable. He had to stay focused.

Brushing a hand over the gun holstered against his chest, he reassured himself of its presence. To the best of his knowledge there was no immediate danger. But with the mysterious porter still a potential threat, it was important to be prepared.

Will thought his search of their belongings had been thorough, but could he really be sure? Those tracers weren't much bigger than a corn flake. Maybe he should make a second check of their possessions. No, that was stupid. If there was another tracer, it was too late. The man would already know where they were. He wasn't thinking clearly. Frustrated, he rubbed his forehead with the heels of his hands. A few more minutes. I'll be fine in a few minutes.

He'd been vaguely aware of the murmur of nearby voices, but they hadn't registered as anything more than background noise until someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Will," Jay said, then repeated, "Will."

Squinting open his eyes, Will saw Jay and Tyler looming over him. Tyler nodded to Jay, then they each grabbed one of his arms and pulled him up. "You need a doctor," Jay said as he attempted to sling Will's arm over his shoulder. "We're taking you to a hospital."

Will twisted free of their holds and shoved them back. "Don't even think about it. We didn't get this far for the two of you to throw everything away."

"You said they didn't have your picture," Tyler said. "No one would know who you are. We could drop you off."

"It's a bullet wound; they have to report it." Will shook his head at their naivete. "The FBI will have searched that store in Chinatown by now. They'll know that one of us was hurt, and you can be sure that every hospital and doctor in a five-hundred mile radius has been put on alert. The authorities might not have my picture, but the people behind this know what I look like, and they'll be the first ones on the scene." He glowered at each of them in turn. "No hospital. No doctor."

"But... If we don't-" Jay broke off, biting his lip.

There were times when Jay was easier to read than a large-print book.

"If I die," Will said, stating the words that Jay couldn't bring himself to say, "you do your best to dispose of the body so that no one finds it. If they think I'm with you, they'll be more cautious. An extra five or ten minutes can mean the difference between capture and escape. Understand?" The stark widening of their eyes was answer enough.

"But I don't plan on dying just yet." He twisted his mouth into a crooked grin that was meant to mock their concern. "I'm fine," he said while sinking back onto the sofa.

"Fine?" Tyler's voice was sharp and shrill. "And Scarlet Johansson has me on speed dial."

"Come on, Will," Jay said. "Tell us what's going on. What can we do to help?"

It didn't seem as if they were going to let up, so Will rattled off a condensed version of what he thought had happened. "I've been taking amphetamines to stay awake. They wore off. That's why I got woozy."

Jay wasn't finished. "And your side?"

"I don't know. I'm waiting for the antibiotics to kick in."

"Earlier," Tyler said, "all of that fiddling with the car thermostat, that wasn't because you didn't know how to use it."

"That's right."

The interrogation was fraying on Will's nerves. "If you want to help, save any other questions for later. I'd like to get some sleep." He kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the sofa, tucking a decorative pillow under his head.

"There's a bedroom upstairs," Tyler pointed out.

"This is fine." He started to close his eyes, then opened them again. "Wake me if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, and I mean anything."

xxx

Standing in a shadowed doorway not far from the New York Medical Center, Fred Chambers surveyed the passers by with grim urgency. Spotting a bobbing head of blonde hair, he shifted to the right, trying to see through the crowd to spot the face that went with it. Before he could manage a clear view, a voice filtered through the receiver in his ear, "I see Doherty. She's headed for Emergency."

"All right, team," Chambers spoke into his transmitter as he broke into a jog. "Let's get this right. I want her intercepted before she enters the hospital. Alvarez, Ford, do you see her?"

"Just now," Alvarez whispered a reply. "We're moving in."

"Whaley, she knows what you look like; I don't want you involved. Let the others handle it." Chambers rounded the corner of the building and skidded to a halt. He could see Kim hurrying toward the emergency entrance, with Alvarez and Ford closing in on either side. She saw or sensed their presence and tried to change direction, but they were already on her.

He watched her raise her hands as her voice came through his headset. "You're FBI," she said, her voice quivering. "I guess I should have known you'd be here. Look, I'll come with you, but please, let me check on my mom first. Please..."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Alvarez said, edging to her side. As Kim's shoulders slumped in relief, his hand shot out and covered her mouth and nose with a soft white cloth. After the briefest of struggles Kim's body slipped into the two men's waiting arms. Seconds later, a brown van pulled to the curb near them; they hefted her inside before anyone around them noticed that something was amiss.

Nodding silent approval, Chambers brushed his knuckles over his lips. One down, three to go.

xxx

Tyler scooted over to make room for Jay to join him on the bottom step of the long set of wooden stairs that led from the bluff to the beach.

"I used to love days like this," he said, "when the sun stayed hidden behind the clouds. On clear days the light reflecting off the ocean was so bright it hurt my eyes. This–" he stretched his arm toward the rolling gray-green waves, "is soothing."

"I know what you mean about blinding light. We didn't get many clouds in Southern California. The spring of my junior year in high school my buddies and I hung out at Bluff Park on the Pacific most Wednesdays. The ocean stretched out like a huge mirror."

"Wednesdays?"

"We played hooky," Jay admitted, blushing

Tyler feigned shock. "You, straight-laced, super-student Jason Burchell, skipped class?"

"It was another right of passage."

"You think you're close to someone, that you know everything about him," Tyler stared into the gray blur where the sky met the sea, "and then you find out you don't." He stretched his legs out as far as they would go while leaning against the step behind him. "Do you know what my dad told me? He said I was too weak to lead the family into the future. So why didn't he just disinherit me or something? Why did he have to...?"

"He's a bastard." Jay's voice was vehement. "And he's wrong about you. I can't see your father taking an armed police officer prisoner to save a friend, can you?"

"No, but..." Tyler was reluctant to admit his concern, afraid that it was a sign of the weakness that his father deplored, "why am I still worried about him?"

"Because you're a better man than he is. Why don't you check CNN? Maybe they'll have an update on his condition."

Tyler couldn't help but smile. "Have you looked around? There isn't a television, computer or even a radio in the house. When Gram came here, she wanted total peace and quiet."

Jay laughed. "I hadn't noticed. Your grandmother is quite the eccentric. But we aren't totally cut off; the car has a radio."

"I listened to it a bit when I was looking for the wetsuits. Do you know what the reporters are doing? They're examining our lives under microscopes. They've been interviewing anyone who knew us who would talk about us."

"And I bet I can guess who was eager to claim five minutes of fame. Massey."

"Yep. He's never forgiven us for the med school prank."

"Doug Kincade."

"He said he always thought there was something suspicious about our Sunday bike trips."

Jay groaned. "What about Gayle what's her name, the one who brought us cookies and brownies a couple of times a week for half a semester? She kept going back and forth between you and Will, but you both ignored her."

"You are so blind; it was you she was after," Tyler said.

"Me?"

"Trust me. I know of what I speak. When she fawned over Will or cuddled up to me, she was trying to get your attention. But you were too smitten with Kim to notice. If you don't believe me, ask Wi-" The name caught on Tyler's tongue, biting into his fond memories with the painful jab of a fishhook gauging into flesh.

"I forget, too," Jay said. "I know he's not the same person he was before, but I forget."

"Sometimes it's easier to forget than others." Tyler dug his heels into the sand. "There are moments when I don't even see a physical resemblance. That's such a weird feeling."

"He's still Will," Jay said. "I want this to work out."

"Yeah," Tyler said, his voice husky from a welling of raw emotion, "so do I."

xxx

Chambers tried to control his frustration as he spoke into the phone. "She won't be of any value to us out of the country. We need her here to lure our boys into the open."

From her elegant home in the suburbs of the nation's capital Rosalind Freed snorted in reply. "How would we do that? Put an advertisement in the newspaper? The Fourth Branch has your girlfriend. If you'll turn yourselves in, she won't come to harm."

"Well, no." Chambers recognized that communicating with the fugitives was a problem. "But as soon as they realize she's missing, they'll know we have her again. Then-" Chambers cut off, remembering what Traveler had done to free Kim the first time. "Whatever we decide, I want round-the-clock guards assigned to my daughter. Traveler has already used her to get Doherty once."

"Fred, what kind of monster do you think I am? I'd already planned to keep watch over Jessica. Now about Doherty, you will see that she gets on that plane. Once she's out of the country, we can soften her up. When she breaks, we'll bring her back and put her on television. You can bet at least Burchell will come running when she tells the world that the three of them are terrorists. Then we'll take them out, as you should have done days ago."

"Let's do it," Fred said with a sigh.

xxx

After spending forty-five minutes on a chair outside of the critical care unit, Jess was wondering if Amy hadn't been right. Maybe she didn't belong here. Gabriel Fog wasn't an abandoned animal who needed someone to find him a new home. He might prefer his privacy during this very troubled time.

She'd just about talked herself into leaving when one of the large double doors swung open and suddenly he was there, his brow furrowed with worry. Then he saw her and a smile spread across his face. "Jess! What are you doing here? Is..." he nodded back toward the closed doors, his voice sobering, "someone you know a patient here?"

"No," she said, getting to her feet. "I came to see you. Amy spotted your picture in today's paper, which is how I finally learned your last name. I owe you money, and I was concerned. I didn't even know if you'd remember me."

"Not remember my damsel in distress?" he said, grinning again. "Impossible."

Jess grinned back. "Well, for all I know, you have dozens of distressed damsels in your past."

"Only the one. It's good to see you. How's the dog rescue business?"

"Better than that night. I never did track down that border collie." Jess dug into her pocket and pulled out a check. "Here, this is for you."

Gabe waved his hand in refusal. "I can't take that. It was a gift."

"You have to." Striding up to him, she stuffed it in his hand.

"All right." He carefully folded it and tucked it into his wallet.

He'd given in too easily. It hit Jess that her check would never be deposited in a bank. "If you don't cash it," she warned him, "you'll hear from me again."

He laughed. "I think you better stick to damsel; ogre really isn't your style."

If nothing else, she'd managed to brighten his mood. And she could always find a way to return the money at a less stressful time. "Will you at least let me buy you a coffee?"

After glancing at his watch, he nodded. "But I can't visit for long. I'm scheduled to meet with my dad's doctor in twenty minutes."

"I'm sorry about what happened to him. And about your brother." Jess looked up into his pale blue eyes. "Before you have coffee with me there's something I need to tell you. It might make my company less appealing. My dad is Fred Chambers; he's the agent in charge of the Drexler investigation."

xxx

Jan Marlow dropped the heavy bag just inside the door to her apartment and headed straight to the refrigerator for a Diet Coke. There were days when the three flights of stairs to her floor felt like twenty. But at least it helps to keep me in shape, she told herself.

She'd stopped at a bookstore on her way home and bought road atlases for Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and Maine.

Her initial euphoria after talking to Stewart had dampened when she'd realized that the exit number might not be significant. It could have been a simple stop for gasoline or a meal. The only thing she knew for sure was that the three suspects had left Manhattan and were heading east in Connecticut.

They'd already passed the New Haven exit, but that didn't mean New Haven was out of the picture. It was close enough that some friend from the university might live in the vicinity of where Stewart had spotted them. Other possibilities included the Fog farmhouse to the north in Massachusetts and Deer Harbor, Maine. And she couldn't rule out Boston, or anywhere else, really.

She drained the Coke and snagged another before retrieving the bag and dumping the contents on her table. Where are you? she wondered as she thumbed through the atlas that had landed on top. Her eyes blurred as she made note of the hundreds upon hundreds of roads in the one book alone.

Well, maybe she'd get lucky. It had happened before, when seemingly out of nowhere some esoteric connection had clicked in her brain. With that in mind, she selected the Connecticut atlas and began to study it carefully, hoping a town or route name would tickle her search antennae.

xxx

Shivering in the fierce cold of the Afghan mountains, Will huddled behind rocks as deafening explosions thundered above him. Feeling a rough hand on his arm, he turned to see a familiar face looming over him. "You, Bishop," Sergeant Penn shouted to be heard over the cacophony of the bombardment, "don't let me see your NVG anywhere but on top of your helmet."

Bishop? It took Will a second to realize he was Bishop, first name Thomas. He didn't have time to sort out the confusion of the name; the towering figure next to him was waiting for a reply. "Yes, sir," he said, not bristling despite the stupidity of the man's words. Any idiot knew the light accompanying the bombs would be expanded to blinding shrillness if viewed through night goggles, but his uncle had warned him there would be moments like this.

"You already know more than most of them could absorb during twenty years of combat," Uncle Dave had said, "but you listen to them. You're there to do a job, to serve your country, and that includes obeying your superiors."

To the sergeant Will was an unproven and unwanted commodity. He'd been added to their unit four days earlier. The rest of them had been together for months, and had endured intensive training for this specific mission for weeks. That Will had combat experience didn't matter; none of them knew about his previous assignments, which had been with different units, under different names. In the eyes of his current brothers in arms, he was a newcomer; he didn't belong. Period.

He accepted their lack of enthusiasm; he felt the same. He didn't know which of them could be counted on to watch his back and which couldn't.

"All right, let's move out," an authoritative voice shouted. The air assault had finally ceased, and it was time to advance. Will darted into a position near the head of the straggly line of weary troops. He ignored the glares and snarls from the men he'd cut in front of and concentrated on the route ahead, trusting his eyes to find anomalies that others might miss.

They'd been chasing down a small band of Taliban for two days. Someone must have thought they were getting close and called in an air strike; maybe tonight they'd finally catch up with the fleeing guerillas.

The path they were following wasn't much more than a goat trail up the mountain. Rough to begin with, the scree created by the bombs made the going treacherous. As they climbed higher, each step became an effort. Will could feel the cold boiling from his bones as sweat soaked his brow...

Swiping his hand over his dripping forehead, Will opened his eyes and was surprised to find himself surrounded by the framework of a room. Was it some kind of hallucination? He was in the White Mountains. And he wasn't yet Will Traveler. He was still trying to sort through the puzzle when the room blinked away.

Whispers floating in the thin night air explained why the column had come to an abrupt stop. They weren't quite lost, but the guide and the translator were consulting over their position. Their voices grew louder as the conversation swelled into an argument. The guide insisted they were just below the ridge where the ambush would take place.

Ambush? Will started, wondering why none of the men around him were reacting. The reason came to him a second later: he was the only one who had understood what the two Afghans were saying. He'd translated their exchange without giving it a second thought.

And now they were done speaking: they'd reached an agreement. The guide was waving his hand to get everyone moving again.

"Don't go. Stay here," Will called out. Frantic, he pushed back through the men strung out behind him, desperate to find someone with the authority to call a halt to their advance. "Stop." After elbowing his way past three more marines, he reached a spot where the trail was so narrow only one person could get through at a time. Not wanting to wait for someone to give him the right of way, he scrambled over rocks and dropped down on the far side.

"Bishop, shut up." Will had never been so happy to hear the gruff voice of Sergeant Penn, who was struggling toward him. Reaching Will, he stopped and said,"Shut up or I'll shut you up."

"We're walking into a trap," Will told him. "We have to stop. Now."

"I knew you were a green runt, but I didn't know you were a coward. Suck it up, Bishop, because we are not turning back." Penn grabbed his arm and shook him. "Do you hear me?"

It was an effort for Will not to respond in kind; they didn't have much time. "I hear you, sir. But I also heard the guide and the translator; they're leading us into an ambush."

Something in his voice must have penetrated Penn's skepticism because the sergeant rapped his knuckles on the helmet of the soldier on the other side of Will. "Get up there and tell them I said to take a ten-minute break." Pushing Will against the side of the cliff, he barked, "How is it that you're the only one in a panic? Why don't I have four or five men running around as if bin Laden himself was biting them on the ass?"

"I was the only one who understood what they were saying."

"So now you're telling me that you speak Pashto?"

"That's not relevant, sir." Penn started to turn away. "Sir," Will called him back. "They weren't speaking Pashto. They were using Farsi." He wasn't supposed to reveal anything about his background or training, but what choice did he have? "I'm fluent in Farsi."

Spinning around, Penn leaned into Will. "Your story is getting wilder, Bishop. There's no way you'd be here if that was true. With command desperate for translators, you'd be assigned to some muckity-muck who never gets his shoes dirty as opposed to freezing your balls off in these fucking mountains."

"You have to listen to me," Will said. "Az mast ke bar mast. What happens to us is our own fault."

Penn's hand pressed harder on Will's chest as a loud clatter filled the night.

Will woke with a start, his heart thumping wildly. He looked around, expecting to see men scattering as bullets rained through the air. Instead, he saw the inside of a room, the room he thought had been a dream.

Afghanistan had been the dream. It hadn't been gunfire that had awakened him; it had been the clatter of something falling in the kitchen. He was in Tyler's grandmother's summer cottage.

As he eased into a sitting position, the door to the kitchen creaked open part way. Will's hand slid to the gun handle protruding from his holster. When Jay's head appeared in the gap, he let his arm drop back to his side.

"You're awake," Jay said. "Good. Dinner is just about ready. I fried up some pork chops. Tyler stuck potatoes in the oven and is attempting to toss a salad."

Dinner? Will looked at his watch and discovered he'd slept for over four hours. Despite that, the only thing he was interested in was more sleep. "I'm not hungry. I'll get something later." The pillow surface was hot and damp; he flipped it over before sinking back into its softness

xxx

Jon Anselmo pulled the vibrating cell phone from his pocket, made note of the caller ID and immediately activated the connection. "Yes, sir."

"The FBI has no idea where they might be. How are you doing?"

"Not much better. There wasn't anything in the room that indicated where to find them." Jon heaved a sigh. "It's what I expected."

"I've got some of my people checking on the Doherty hit and run. That's too coincidental not to be connected, especially with Kim Doherty missing. No one has seen her since she was supposedly released from FBI custody after the incident at Fervor."

"Supposedly?"

"Why would they release her?" Mailer asked. "They had more than enough evidence to charge her."

"Maybe they hoped she'd lead them to Burchell. But she wasn't with him as of yesterday; he's worried about her. That was one of the reasons they went to see Gabriel Fog. Fog might be our best lead at the moment. They went to see him once; they might do it again. I'm trying to track him down. He's not at the hospital. I'm on my way to the penthouse to snoop around."

"That's an excellent idea. They might even have gone back there."

"We'll know soon," Anselmo assured him.

xxx

"We outdid ourselves," Tyler said as he mopped up pork chop juice with a hunk of garlic bread.

Jay began to gather the empty plates and serving dishes into a pile. "Why didn't we cook more often during our years at The Castle?"

"Because we had twenty takeout places within a three-mile radius," answered Tyler. "And because we weren't afraid to stick our noses out the door. Maybe we should add a chapter with recipes to your On the Run bestseller."

"Who said it's going to be a bestseller?"

"Jay, Jay, Jay, who wouldn't want to read about the adventures of such gorgeously good looking and incredibly intrepid young men? I've already decided that I want Jake Gyllenhaal to play me in the movie adaptation."

"He looks more like me."

"It's just the dark hair that gives you that impression. If he lightens it a bit, we're dead ringers." Tyler picked up the utensils and carried them from the kitchen table to the sink. "As for you, Cameron Diaz would be perfect."

Jay grabbed the towel off the rack and swatted him. "Keep that up and I'm going to write you out of the book." He began to rinse off dishes as he continued, "This isn't fair. You know I can barely tell one actor from another. I wouldn't even go to movies if Kim weren't so fond of them."

"That's a good place to start," Tyler reasoned. "Who are Kim's favorites?"

"They're all too old: Russell Crowe, Denzel Washington, Alan Rickman."

"Then I'll have to do the casting." Tyler pondered what he'd seen in copies of People that Kim had left at The Castle. The starlets came easily to mind, the men less readily. Finally, a suitable prospect presented itself: "Orlando Bloom."

"Not the fairy! Anyone but the fairy."

"He was an elf."

"Elf, fairy, it's all the same." Jay opened the dishwasher and stared at the inside as if he'd never seen one before. "This was always Will's job. How about I pass the dishes and you load?"

"I'll give it a try." Working with a minimum of awkwardness, they were soon down to a single item. "That wasn't so difficult," Tyler said as he squeezed the frying pan onto the bottom rack. Then he snapped his fingers as inspiration hit. "I've got it, Matt Damon."

"Bourne. Yeah, I like that. Here." Jay tossed him a wet dishcloth. "You wipe the table; I'll open a couple of beers."

"We are becoming so domesticated," Tyler said as he walked across the room. "It's almost enough to make me puke."

"Women love men with kitchen skills."

Tyler carefully brushed the crumbs and scraps into his hand. "Women also love men who can afford housekeepers."

Jay passed Tyler a Heinekin. "If Will is still sleeping, we could take these to that room at the top."

Tyler opened the door for a quick peek. "He's still sleeping, and he's got his hand wrapped around that gun he's wearing. We're definitely not sitting in there."

"He must have the safety on," Jay said.

"I'm not taking a chance." Tyler tipped the bottle to his lips and took a long swallow. It was cooly refreshing all the way down, but it couldn't banish the nightmare that their lives had become.

"So... are we going upstairs?"

"First," Tyler reached over to switch off the overhead light, "we need to go through the house and close the drapes and shades. We won't be able to use lights in that top room, or any of the other rooms with exposed windows, which is most of this floor. It's getting dark. Locals expect the house to be empty. If they see lights, they might call the police."

"Good thinking," Jay said. "I'll be sure to include that in the book."

xxx

Scanning the elegant, darkish interior of the restaurant, Jess swept her hands over her jeans and cotton sweater while taking two steps back. "I don't think I'm dressed properly."

Gabriel kept his hand on her shoulder to prevent her from leaving. "It's fine. Leonardo DiCaprio had a do-rag on the last time I was here."

"DiCaprio eats here? Why have I never read about it in gossip columns?"

"The Tattered Cuisine remains a closely guarded secret." Gabriel nodded to the maitre de. "Good evening, George, Could we have that table in the corner?"

"Of course, Mr. Fog." He led them to the table, held the chair for Jess, then handed them menus. "May I get you something from the bar?"

"Jess?"

"Umm... I don't usually drink on school nights."

"Two virgin mojitos, then," he glanced across the table, "if that sounds okay?"

"Perfect."

She peeked inside the menu and wasn't surprised to find it devoid of prices. You didn't eat at a place like this if cost was a consideration. This restaurant wasn't what she'd imagined when Gabriel had asked her to join him for a quiet little bite. He was so genuine; it was easy to forget that he lived life on a much grander scale than she did.

"I'm really glad you could make it."

"So am I," she said, tucking her dismay into a mental envelope and sealing it shut. "Since our interview didn't run over, there was plenty of time for me to get here at the appointed hour." Spotting a waiter approaching, she hurriedly added, "Will you order for me? You know what's good here."

After he'd requested what sounded like enough food for four people, Gabriel said, "Tell me more about your project."

"Well, as I said earlier, it a film class. We divided into groups to do documentaries. Our group decided to talk to young people about why they came to New York. The criteria were simple: we wanted individuals who were less than thirty and who had lived here between one and two years. Not students, of course. After sorting through a couple of dozen prospects, we settled on four people for interviews. Today was the last, and it was my favorite. It was with a young woman from the Midwest. She always wanted to live in New York City, but couldn't afford it. Then she saw an ad for a bird sitter... But that's all I'm going to tell you, for now. I think we're going to have a fun film, and I'm going to send you a copy after we complete the edit."

"A bird sitter?"

"It's not-" Bonnie Tyler singing I Need a Hero burst out of Jess' backpack. She almost sent her drink flying as she twisted about to get the phone. "I've wanted to change that ring tone," she said, cringing and apologetic, "but I'm afraid it would hurt my dad's feelings." She pulled out the phone and switched it to mute.

"Shouldn't you answer it?" Gabe said.

"No," she said firmly. "He's been calling all day. He gets in these overly protective moods and there's no way to reason with him. We go through this about every four months." She returned the phone to her backpack. "He'll get over it in a day or two."

Gabe twirled his finger in his drink, looking ill at ease. It was the first time she'd seen him less than perfectly poised. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Is it my dad's connection to your family's problems?"

"In a way..." He looked steadily into her eyes. "You remember when you told me about your dad before we went for coffee? I should have given you the same opportunity to opt out on dinner. Don't get me wrong," he stretched a hand out, as if imploring her to understand, "I enjoy being with you. But right now I have so much on my mind. My brother is innocent, but I can't get your father to believe me." He pulled his hand back, sighing. "I had hoped you might tell me how to get through to him."

Hindsight told Jess that this awkward situation was exactly what Amy had tried to warn her about. But that was neither here nor there. Inserting as much conviction as she could muster into her voice, she said, "If your brother is innocent, my dad will figure that out. He's the best."

With Gabe looking like a dog who had just been dropped from a speeding car, she couldn't stop there. "Tell me about your brother. Is he as nice as you are?"

xxx

Tossing restlessly from side to side, Will slipped from sleep to wakefulness and back again, caught in a succession of turbulent dreams. It was as if he'd been invaded by a toxic weevil that was boring into his past and recycling him through some of his many lives.

Seven years earlier...

Halfway up the one-hundred foot vertical cliff, Eric Ransom swayed slightly as he tilted his head back to scan the rock wall above him. With his feet jammed onto narrow ledges and the thumb and index finger of his right hand pinching a slight knob, he was in a stable position, but he couldn't see anything within reach that would allow him to climb higher.

A head poked out from the cliff top above him. "Come on, Eric," Uncle David called, "what's taking you so long?"

Eric's mouth was dry, making it difficult to answer even if he could have thought of something relevant to say. They'd been hiking through winding desert canyons for three days and two nights. But while Uncle Dave had been provisioned with a sleeping bag, food supply, and water, Eric had been expected to live off the land. There had been precious little in the way of shelter and only prickly pears for sustenance during the forced march. While the pears provided some moisture, it was never enough to satisfy the cravings of his body.

It wasn't the first time his uncle had pushed Eric to his physical limitations and beyond. There had been several exercises when he'd been worked until he'd passed out. But to collapse here, on the face of a cliff with no belay system in place, would be fatal.

Eric transferred his weight to his skeletal system to allow his muscles to rest. His uncle had scaled the rock wall with ease. Of course, he was well nourished and hydrated. Eric was also beginning to suspect that he'd chosen this particular climb with his physical attributes in mind. Normally, Eric's light, lithe body was an advantage when rock climbing. But here, with knobs, ledges and niches few and far between, his uncle's greater reach served him well.

I won't use that as an excuse, Eric told himself. He'd always been small for his age, and at sixteen he'd accepted that he was never going to catch up with strapping six footers, let alone his uncle. He'd learned to compensate by concentrating on his own strengths, including his agility and his determination.

Eric angled his head back and studied the cliff again. When that didn't produce a solution to his dilemma, he looked left then right. And that's when he saw it, a niche that just about qualified as an alcove for someone his size. There were good handholds within easy reach. Better yet, just beyond the niche was a crack that looked like it might take him all the way to the top.

But there were no edges or nubs that would allow him to spider over to the alcove. And going back down with the hope of angling in that direction via a different route was out of the question. Right now, he was in shadow, the cliff itself standing between him and the ascending sun. But within an hour the sun would be overhead, in position to squeeze the last drops of moisture out of his body.

There was a way to reach the alcove, but he'd have to blatantly disregard what his uncle considered to be the primary rule of movement to do it. With his eyes focused on the niche Eric tightened his muscles into coiled masses of kinetic energy and jumped.

The cry that screeched from above barely registered on his consciousness. His total concentration was on the indentation in the rock. Both feet contacted it at the same time. His knees bent slightly to cushion the impact, then his fingers were reaching, searching. His left hand located a knob of rock. It was enough to steady him until he found a place to latch his right hand.

Then he was firmly in place. And seconds later he was dancing up the crack, ascending with more speed than he would have thought possible minutes earlier.

When he reached the top of the cliff, he rolled away from the edge and sprawled on his back, staring up into his uncle's frowning visage. "I did it." Sitting up, he met his uncle's scowl with one of his own. "You tried to kill me, but it didn't work."

"Whatever are you talking about?" Uncle David took Eric's arm and yanked him to his feet. "Let's get you into the shade. Here," he slammed his camelback into Eric's hand, "drink. You aren't making any sense."

Abruptly, the dream broke away, leaving Will clinging to images that were almost as vivid as when he had lived them.

Except for the end of the dream. He didn't know where that had come from. The climb up the wall had been accurate in every detail, but he couldn't remember accusing his uncle of trying to kill him. He couldn't remember much of anything after reaching the top. There was a fleeting image of cool rock under a shadowed overhang and rays of sun reflecting off the medallion his uncle always wore. Then there was nothing. As much as he tried to reconnect long-ago synapses, his memory remained blank, not recalling anything until the drive home in the passenger's seat of his uncle's Range Rover. What had happened to those missing hours?

Struggling to his feet, Will put the question firmly behind him. He had enough to worry about in the present.

xxx

"I wonder how long it will take to clear our names?" Jay said.

Tyler hated to burst Jay's bubble, but he couldn't share his optimism. "Freed was our best bet. I don't think we're going to get a blatant confession a second time." He drained his beer, wishing he and Jay hadn't agreed to stop at two each.

"I know that. But we have a lot of leads. And like you said, we're very intrepid guys."

"That's true enough." Tyler gathered their empties and set them at the top of the stairs. The sky had cleared and the moon provided more than enough light to maneuver about the room. "I know someone who could probably clear us."

"Your father."

"One and the same. I should have thought to go through his papers when we were there the other night."

"Anything incriminating is going to be under lock and key."

"But there could still be clues that might point to someone or something. He knows a lot of important people." Tyler cocked his head, listening intently, and confirmed the indistinct clinking that wafted up the stairs. "That's the water pipes rattling. Will's awake. I'll show him where we put his share of the dinner."

"I'll come with you," Jay said around a huge yawn.

Tyler led the way down the spiral staircase that had replaced the steep stairs that provided access to the widow's walk. He slowed as he shuffled through the dark room below, finally pawing his way to the door to the hall. After both of them were through it, he shut the door, not wanting any stray light to curl up to the cupola at the top of the house. He found he didn't have to turn on the hall light because of brightness shining from the open door to the bathroom.

As he drew even with it, he saw Will sitting on the bathroom floor, his back against the tub. "Will?"

"Hey, Tyler," Will responded. Moving with the awkwardness of someone who had too much to drink, he struggled to his feet and leaned against the edge of the sink, grimacing. Still half bent over, he turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face. When he finished, he straightened and faced them, his cheeks flushed and his eyes shining as if lit by an internal flame.

"I'm going to crash," he told them.

"Do you need anything?" Jay asked from where he'd joined Tyler in the doorway.

"No." As Will walked toward them, they parted to let him through. "Remember what I said about waking me."

Tyler waited until Will was in the front bedroom before turning to Jay. "The last time I saw Will sitting on a bathroom floor was when he had the flu so bad he was puking his guts out."

"He wouldn't let us do anything for him then, either."

"So what do we do?" Tyler asked, shaking his head with frustration.

Jay didn't look any happier than Tyler felt. "I wish I knew."

xxx

Frightened to near immobility, Kim couldn't even support her own weight as she was half carried and half dragged, down a steep set of stairs. "Please, please..." She heard the tear-filled pleading without realizing that she was the one speaking.

If she had been scared before, it didn't compare with the level of her terror now. Her memories were a jagged confusion that had become associated with drowning in her mind. It had seemed as if she were repeatedly swimming toward the surface only to feel a stinging prick on her arm that sent her plunging back into dark depths.

Until now...

The blindfold wrapped tightly about her eyes prevented her from seeing, but her other senses didn't share that impediment. She was aware of an oppressive, heavy heat that made her break into an instant sweat. An exotic smell, like a too strong perfume, filled her nostrils. She felt a sneeze building, but managed to hold it back, afraid that any sound would anger her captors.

At the bottom of the stairs, her feet bumped over what felt like rough ground. "Where am I?" she asked. "Where are you taking me?"

No one answered, and eventually her journey ended. She was released and pushed forward in one sharp motion. Staggering, she spread out her arms to steady herself and just managed to regain her balance. A clang behind her promted her to turn around.

Alone? Had they left her alone?

As she pulled off the blindfold, something ran over her right shoe. She screamed.

xxx

Slitting open the bedroom blinds, Jay was prepared to squint into the sun. But the fog was back and much thicker than the thin, scattered wisps of the day before. His watch told him what the murk refused to reveal: it was half past eight in the morning.

He wasn't sorry to have an excuse to abandon sleep. Time after time, throughout the night, he'd woken to a churning mind that made peaceful rest impossible. It was difficult to shed the harrowing desperation of the past week, and almost impossible to feel safe, even in this remote haven.

After a quick trip to the bathroom , he slipped into his jeans and padded quietly toward the stairs. With the doors to Tyler's and Will's rooms closed , he had no way of knowing if they were sleeping or up and about. He paused at Will's door and put his ear against its wooden surface, not sure what he expected to hear. Some sign that Will was on the mend? And if he wasn't...

Tyler's question from the night before haunted him. What could they do?

The first floor was as silent as the second. Since Jay had helped to unpack the groceries, he knew where to find the coffee. It took him a few minutes to figure out the fancy espresso machine, then hot water-at exactly the right temperature, according to coffee connoisseurs-was shooting over coffee grounds and filling his cup.

So much for Kim's claim that he couldn't even operate a toaster.

After topping his coffee with milk and sugar, Jay wandered into the combination living-family-dining room. Almost immediately, he spotted a sheet of paper on the table. It was folded in half and had his name scribbled on the outside. He was used to Tyler's handwriting, so he was able to decipher the short message without difficulty.

Jay, I'm sorry, but I can't sit here and watch Will die.

T.

end of episode five

Note: Tomorrow, I leave on another vacation, so the next chapter might also be delayed. If it takes longer than a month, I'll try to remember to post updates to The Traveler Forum website Fan Fiction Traveler, Second Season. If any reader is interested in beta-reading upcoming chapters, please contact me. Beta readers tend to find problems and mistakes that I miss.