Journey Through the Past – Chapter 34
Mallory cynically watched Brass and his team retreat from the area. He knew better than to really believe that they would completely clear the area and allow him to leave scot-free. Taking the handcuffs Grissom had used on him, he nudged Scott in the back and indicated that he should put one of the bracelets on and then snap the other one onto his father.
Scott took the handcuffs reluctantly while glaring at Mallory with hate. They were standing at the edge of the outcropping so that Brass could see that the both of them were still alive. Just standing in the bright sunlight in the oppressive heat was sapping what meager energy reserves Grissom had. Scott took a step back from the ledge, afraid that if Grissom passed out, they would both go tumbling over the edge. The younger Grissom turned to Mallory.
"He'll never make down the incline and onto the helicopter unless he can sit down in what's left of the shade and get some water. This heat is sapping his strength. I'll put on the cuffs when I get him sitting down," said Scott.
Grissom lifted his head and looked at both Mallory and Scott through hooded eyes. He sensed that Scott was up to something, but welcomed the suggestion to sit down in the shade. Grissom remained silent, too exhausted to offer any kind of protest or comment, but merely lifted his head to look at Mallory with half-closed eyes.
"Our window of escape is short. You have enough time to give your old man some water and get those cuffs on. Grissom's just going to have to suck it up, or both of you are going to end up dead," said Mallory with impatience.
"Right," muttered Scott, rolling his eyes, as he helped his father sit back against the rock wall.
"Here," growled Mallory as he tossed Scott a bottle of water from the medical bag.
Catching the bottle, Scott quickly opened it and put the bottle in his father's slightly trembling hands. Grissom leaned his head back and gratefully sipped the water and then held out the bottle to his son.
"Take some," Grissom said in a hoarse whisper. Shaking his head slightly, his thinking was starting to clear. "Scott, you were supposed to stay with Sara. Didn't Cath…"
Scott quickly cut him off. "I was with Catherine, and Sara's being taken care of. Catherine contacted Captain Brass. It's Brass down there with some guys who worked for you. I don't think that…"
A bewildered Grissom tried to reason it out, "We were trying to escape from Brass. The under sheriff was going to kill us. Brass came with him. Scott, we don't know who to trust out there. Brass could have fooled Catherine. Le…let me think about this." Handing the bottle to his son, Grissom gently commanded his son, "Drink."
Scott took the bottle and drank deeply. He offered the bottle again to Grissom, and after his father had drunk his fill, poured the remainder of the water over his father to cool him down. Scott was pretty sure that his father was either running a fever or suffering from heat stroke, either way his body temperature needed to be lowered. Glancing over his shoulder, Scott made sure Mallory's attention was focused below the outcropping, making sure the retreat of Brass and company was happening.
"Hey, kid…we need to get moving," interrupted Mallory. "Get those cuffs on now. I don't want you thinking you can run off if my back is turned from you."
Grissom rolled his eyes up to Mallory and said softly, "Give me a minute. The water helped…just give me a sec."
Turning half his attention back to what was going on below, Mallory replied harshly, "Just one minute, Grissom. The coast is almost clear."
Snapping one of the bracelets around his own right wrist, Scott crouched down so that he was eye level with his father. He lifted Grissom's right hand and was about to snap the bracelet around his wrist when he felt the barrel of the Glock pressed against his head. He instantly went cold. Feeling his son's hand suddenly tense up, Grissom opened his eyes to see the gun pressed up against the side of his son's head.
"Before you slip that cuff onto your old man's wrist, I want you to slip that flak jacket off," ordered Mallory.
Cocking his head quizzically, Mallory asked with amusement, "Wouldn't it be easier to have the cuff on your left wrist?"
Scott gave Mallory a look that spoke volumes about what he thought of the man's intelligence. The young man stood up, unzipped the jacket, and slipped it off his shoulders. He tossed it at Mallory's feet. Having his shirt tail out, the hidden Glock was safely tucked in the back of his waistband.
Patiently Scott explained to Mallory, "My father's pretty weak. The only way this is going to work is if I can help carry him with his right arm draped around my shoulder. I can't do that if the cuffs are on my left wrist and his right wrist."
"Okay Smart Ass, you've made you point," snarled Mallory. "Hurry up. We don't have all day."
Scott crouched next to his father and proceeded to snap the handcuff to his father's right wrist. Sighing heavily, Grissom gave his son a nod to let him know that he was ready to stand. The younger Grissom slowly pulled his father's arm across his shoulder trying to notice the sharp intake of breath that his father took when he reached behind him to hold onto Grissom's waist. Grissom's abdomen and sides were tender to the touch due to the broken ribs. Beads of sweat appeared across Grissom's forehead as Scott gently pulled the both of them to a standing position.
Grissom was leaning heavily against Scott as the two men took a tentative step forward.. In the mean time, Mallory had securely fastened on the flak jacket and was waiting impatiently near the ledge. Waving the gun towards the ledge, Mallory indicated that the both of them should ease themselves off the outcropping and start their descent. Picking up the medical bag, Mallory followed the men.
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Captain Jim Brass kept his eye for movement from the outcropping above. It had been several minutes since the last communication with Mallory. He expected to see all three men momentarily. He had the CSI's and deputies move some one hundred yards back up the canyon. They and the deputies were scattered through out the canyon, hidden by the brush. The order was not to shoot unless provoked. The deputies up above were ready but the range was just beyond their limit. It was unlikely they would be able to get a clear shot of Mallory anyway from that distance.
Brass paced nervously. The captain did not like uncertainty, and this situation almost assuredly did qualify as such. Checking his watch, he radioed Catherine who was with Sara behind the boulders near the helicopter. They could not get Sara to budge from her spot behind the rocks. She had to see for herself what condition Grissom was in. Catherine and Greg, along with Ken Jones and Sara were hidden from view to anyone approaching the helicopter from the outcropping.
"Hey Catherine. How is Sara holding up? The fireworks should start in a few minutes."
"Jim, she's a bit antsy. Physically, she should be heading back to Vegas in that chopper, but Jones has her stable- just worried about Gil. Once Grissom and Mallory are airborne, what's the plan?'
"Right now, we're just keeping an eye on things. The second helicopter you ordered landed about a mile from here. Nick checked out the tracking transmitter on the helicopter so once they're airborne, we should be able to track Mallory where he directs the pilot to fly and land. The second helicopter will take off when I radio them."
"Sounds pretty straight forward…should be easy," commented Catherine.
Brass sighed. He could think of a thousand ways this operation could turn into a disaster. It was all about opportunities, and from the get-go, the whole situation had afforded Brass few opportunities for the outcome he wanted. Grissom and his state of mind were the wild cards. It could easily turn on a dime.
"Yeah, right. Everything about this operation has gone wrong. Let's just make sure that everyone knows what they're about. You're going to have to keep Sara on a tight leash. Brass out," said the police captain tightly.
Catherine turned to the others behind her. "Brass is as wound tight as I've ever seen him," she muttered to no one in particular.
"What's happening with Grissom?" asked Greg quietly as he glanced over at Sara, his concern for her evident.
Catherine sighed, "Not sure, Greg. The only thing we know for sure is that Mallory is calling all the shots. Hopefully, sending Scott up there bought Grissom a little time. Jones told me a little of the treatments that were used on Gil. With the physical injuries he probably suffered from Mallory's goons in captivity and the tumble in the jeep, not to mention the constant injections of hypnotics and hallucinogenics, I'm surprised we're not processing his body. In any case, we need to have the other search and rescue helicopter ready- either to follow Mallory or to get Grissom back to Vegas for medical treatment."
Greg nodded nervously and checked his service weapon, hoping that he wouldn't have to use it.
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Scott, with Grissom leaning heavily against him, carefully eased the both of them off the ledge, stretching his legs down until he felt solid ground beneath his feet. Bracing his legs, he took Grissom's full weight until the both of them were standing, more or less, just below the lip of the alcove.
"Take a couple of steps down and hold still," growled Mallory from above.
Scott didn't bother to turn around to look at their captor, but instead gazed down at the canyon floor, hoping to see some sign of their rescuers. They were either well-hidden, or they really had retreated out of harm's way. Scott was hoping for the former as he knew that they were going to need all the help they could get to get away from Mallory.
Scott looked at Grissom to see how he was holding up. A fine film of sweat was beading down Grissom's face, and he was clenching his teeth. Though the medication Scott had given him a little while ago had taken effect, the heat and exertion just getting this far seemed to negate the initial effectiveness. His ever-present tremors were making it difficult for them to maintain their balance on the steep incline. Taking a deep breath, Grissom gave his son a half-hearted grin.
"Hey, we made it this far, didn't we," came the hoarse whisper. Grissom forced his legs to straighten so that so much of his weight wasn't on his son. He looked down the slope and could see the helicopter. It would be a miracle if he made it to the helicopter in one piece. It was really several hundred yards away, but in his condition, it might as well as been a million miles.
The memory of being hauled up this slope by Mallory eluded him. How in the world did Mallory get the both of us up here? Grissom shook his head to try to clear it. Obviously, Mallory doesn't want anything to do with the men down there. How widespread is the conspiracy that the under sheriff was involved in? Grissom felt himself being pushed forward, interrupting his thoughts.
Scott was talking softly to him, but he couldn't make sense of what he was saying. As Scott tried to take the lead down the steep slope, Grissom suddenly had a wave of vertigo which made his vision swim in and out of focus. Swallowing the bile that had gathered at the bottom of his throat, Grissom turned his head and tried to understand the directions his son was trying to give him.
"Father. Hey…I need you here with me if we're going to traverse this hillside," pleaded Scott softly, shaking his father.
"St..stop shaking me. I'm dizzy enough as it is," rasped Grissom.
Scott worked their way sideways down the slope, his balance slightly off. His back, shoulders, and arm were aching from the strain of trying to keep the both of them upright and, at the same time, finding solid footing for the both of them so they wouldn't slip. Spying a large boulder a few feet down from them, Scott decided to work their way towards it and rest. He heard Mallory behind him working his way down sending small rocks and dirt their way.
Upon reaching the boulder, Scott eased his arm from around his father's waist and allowed him to rest against the rock while he stood and rested. They were about half way down and the ground wasn't quite as steep. It had taken them several minutes to get this far and the exertion to make it down the slope was evident on Grissom's face. Mallory was immediately next to both men, carefully scrutinizing the terrain. Brass and his men were either well-hidden or they really did retreat down the canyon.
Giving his captives another bottle of water, Mallory ordered, "Drink up Grissom. I don't want you passing out before we get to the chopper."
Taking the water from Mallory, Scott opened the bottle and held it up to his father's trembling lips. Grissom sipped the water and pushed the bottle away. "I'm okay. Take some Scott."
"The ground is not as steep from this point on. The going should be easier," said Scott encouragingly.
"Let's go. That pilot should start the engines when we get close to the chopper," said Mallory anxiously.
Grissom stood up, his dizziness and the pounding in his head were not quite as intense as it was moments ago. Taking slow, deep breaths, he eyed his son critically. The gun in Scott's waistband had shifted, and Grissom had felt it dig into his side as they were going down the steepest part of the slope. He vaguely remembered telling Scott to take the Glock from the medical bag.
"I know you still have that Glock. I felt it. What do you plan to do with it," asked Grissom in a soft, low voice.
"I wasn't going to let him get away," whispered Scott softly back.
For Grissom, an intense anger was rising in him. It had started as a slow burn as they had started their descent from the alcove. Now it was increasing in intensity. He was tired of the deception all around him. He was tired of being manipulated and of being a pawn. Grissom needed this nightmare to somehow end. Ignoring the pain from his ribs and wrist, he straightened his stance, the adrenalin coursing through his body giving him added energy.
"I'll handle the gun. Don't try anything. You'll become a target, you understand me?" Grissom whispered fiercely.
Scott paused to look at his father, startled. There was no mistaking the deadly intent and anger in his voice. The young man was taken aback by the flash of emotion he saw reflected in those dark blue eyes. Looking deep into Grissom determined face, he nodded hesitantly.
"Promise me, Scott. Promise me you won't try anything," whispered Grissom angrily as they made their way through the thick sagebrush. Again, Scott nodded. The tenseness in Grissom's shoulder lessened somewhat.
Mallory kept the Glock trained on his two captives and caught up to them as they made it to the last group of boulders before they reached the chopper. He had meant to stay closer to them but found that he couldn't keep up with them and scan the area for any of the law enforcement officers he was sure were out there.
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Above, on the cliffs above the outcropping, Deputy David Mickelson trained his rifle on the back of the last of the three men who had descended down from the alcove situated below him. He was a fair shot and was sure he could take the intended target with a single shot.
They were within 25yards from the chopper. They had just reached a group of boulders and Mallory was just catching up to the two other men.
Taking careful aim at his target, Deputy Mickelson slowly squeezed the trigger just as the pilot started the helicopter's rotors. The blades of the chopper started their rotation causing dust to rise off the desert floor and surround the three men making their way to the chopper. As the flash of the rifle spit its projectile to its intended target, Mickelson watched as the three men disappeared from his sights in the rising dust.
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Brass observed the progress of the men through his binoculars. Everything was going according to plan so far. The police captain figured that the boulders some 25 or so yards from the helicopter would be a good place for Mallory to have Grissom rest before making a mad dash for the helicopter. His orders were for one of the marksmen up on the cliff to take out Mallory only if he had a clear shot. When the pilot saw the men approach the boulders, he would start the rotors. It was a risky operation that could get both Grissom and Scott injured or killed, but there was no way he was going to let Mallory get away on the helicopter.
The rotors of the helicopter started rotating, kicking up the sand from the desert floor and Brass observed the flash from the rifle as he saw with satisfaction Mallory crash into both Grissom and Scott from the impact of the bullet. He saw all three men smash into the boulders as the rising dust obliterated them from his view.
A/N: This last chapter was getting to be way too long so I had to cut it a little bit. Only one or two chapters left to go. A huge thank you for all of you who have reviewed. Please continue to let me know what you think and for sticking with this story.