Chapter two
It was still dark when the cavalcade pulled out of the fairground. Blair, in an unfortunate twist of fate, found himself following his employers' trailer driving a 1969 Ford truck. He was grateful that it was a bright red and had been 'pimped'. He didn't need too many reminders of his previous life. Gratefully, he sipped at the hot coffee that Maria had thrust at him as they left their caravan after breakfast. He was clean, well fed, was earning money and was amongst people that he liked. It did a little to fill the empty places of his heart.
They stopped off in a small town that he never knew the name of for lunch. He took the time to search out the local courier office and sent the envelope of money on its way. Getting into the truck he eased the vehicle back into line and dutifully followed the trailer in front. Unfortunately, not having to navigate left his mind mostly unoccupied. This allowed his thoughts to wander and despite his best intentions, they wandered back to Cascade, Jim and the train wreck his life had become. Determinedly, he turned on the radio and searched for a station that played rock. Finding something he liked, he wound down the window and tapping his hand on the side of the truck, he sang along. The wind ruffled his short curls and if there were tears in his eyes he could claim they were from the dust on the road.
They spent the night in another nameless town. It was high summer and Blair didn't bother putting his tent up. Dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and cut off shorts he lay on his sleeping bag and stared up at the stars. He had no idea what attractive picture he made as he propped up his head with his hands. The short curls that hugged his head accentuated his large eyes and cheekbones. He was underweight, but hard physical work had built up lithe muscles in his arms, legs and chest and the sadness in his eyes merely created an enticing air of mystery.
"Warm night, isn't it?"
Blair jerked and sat up. A youngish, plump woman with short blond hair was standing in front of him holding two glasses that glistened with condensation in the ambient light. Not classically beautiful, she had a friendly face and her cupid bow lips were turned up in a welcoming smile.
"Ummm, it is," he answered. "Felicia, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is." The woman beamed obviously delighted that he knew her name. "I thought you might like something cool to drink. It's home-made lemonade."
Blair looked at her for a moment. A number of women amongst both the fair people and fairgoers had made it obvious that they weren't averse to spending a bit of time with him. Up until now, he'd made it plain that he wasn't interested. He'd not been on a date since just before the fountain and Alex. His head had not been in a good place for so long and romance had been the last thing on his mind. But maybe the time was right to finally move on. He scooted over on the sleeping bag.
"Thank you. I'd love to try your lemonade."
The woman handed him a glass and sat down next to him. He let her shoulder brush against his and felt the warmth of her leg through the cloth of his cut offs. In her late 20s, he knew that she made jewellery that she sold out of her little caravan and to shops in the towns they stopped at. Her parents ran one of the rides; he couldn't remember which, along with her brother. He remembered the talk he'd heard about her. She had been married, but her husband had died while trying to break up a drunken fight at some fair a few years back. There'd been no children, but apparently she'd been pregnant and she went into premature labour when she'd heard the news about his death. It had been far too early in the pregnancy and the baby had died. She'd picked herself up with the help of her family and friends, but it had been a difficult time for her.
She, in turn, saw the pain shining out of this enigmatic man's eyes and just felt she had to do something to help. He was so alone and she couldn't bear it.
"Do you know any of the constellations?" She asked sipping from her glass.
"This is good," said Blair as the cool liquid slid down his throat. "Some of them. See that one there? That's the Great Bear. Do you know there's a tribe in Polynesia that believes that the stars are the souls of people waiting to be born? They give names to the stars hoping that the soul will come down to Earth."
"Really? What sort of names?"
"Well, ordinary names…"
"What like Bob or Susan?"
"No," he chuffed a small laugh, "names like Kalani, Uhila or Mahal."
"Oh…"
Maria, closing the door of her caravan glanced over to where Blair had placed his sleeping bag. She smiled in delight.
"Vinnie, come here."
"What, woman?"
"Shhh, just get over here."
Vinnie sighed and pulled himself out of the comfortable chair he'd been sitting in while reading a newspaper. Standing next to his wife he looked over to where she was pointing. He smiled and put an arm round her shoulders. They stood there for a few moments then pulled the door shut, locked it, turned out the lights and went to bed.
The group got to the fairground late the following afternoon. For the rest of the day it was organised chaos as the stands, rides and booths were set up. The sun was sinking down to the horizon when Blair tiredly set up his tent in an isolated corner of the park. As he sat in the open flap watching the final streaks of red in the evening sky he half smiled to himself thinking about the previous night. Before, in another lifetime when he'd been with an attractive woman, he would have poured on the charm, flirting outrageously, trying to get at least a kiss. But that had been the old Blair. Instead, they'd talked and took comfort in each other's company. No pressure, no expectations; simply two people passing the time together with, perhaps, a tiny hint of something that could be.
The following morning was equally busy as the fair was set up and Blair was in great demand for his eclectic skills. To his surprise, and quiet pleasure, Felicia brought him lunch under the interested eyes of some of the fair people. He blushed as he heard some of the ribald, but friendly comments from the men. Towards mid afternoon he made his way towards the Parisi trailer. Vinnie and Maria greeted him like a long lost friend rather than the man who was temporarily helping them out. He grabbed an apron and wrapped himself up in its voluminous folds. Mickey, their son was obviously a big man. Grabbing the box of tomatoes sitting on a work area, he started washing the vegetables in the small sink.
Vinnie sidled up to him and nonchalantly started slicing the washed tomatoes and putting the slices into big, aluminium bowls. "Sleep well last night?"
Blair slid him an expressionless look.
"Vinnie!" Maria's voice sounded from beneath the counter where she was putting out hamburger and hotdog buns.
"What? All I asked him was whether he slept well."
He winked at Blair, as a short 'Huh' was his only response. Blair's smile was small, but genuine and for the first time in many months he felt the ice around his heart melt slightly. "Well? How d'you sleep?"
"Not bad, thanks. And you?"
"Great. Wonderful. So, you like lemonade?"
"Vinnie!"
"Woman, stick to your buns. This is men's talk." Maria jumped up and started poking her large husband in the chest. He lifted up his hands and started back-pedalling towards the door. Blair didn't understand the heated conversation that followed as it was in Italian, but he had a pretty good idea of what was being said. He smiled to himself and another piece of ice melted.
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"We're not going," stated Simon. "We're police officers for Pete's sake! We don't run off because some mobster wannabe has made threats against us."
Smith closed the door and moved towards the group. "I understand totally. We did try and tell your commissioner that, but he didn't seem terribly convinced."
"And anyway," interrupted Jim, "why should we put our lives into the hands of the idiots who lost the Escobar case?" He crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared at them.
"What he said," agreed H and the others nodded.
"Yes, well," said the agent introduced as Patel, "we don't really blame you. We're looking into the situation."
"It's suspected that there's a leak in the Seattle office, which is why we've been brought in from Atlanta. Neither of us has been north of the Dixie Line apart from times in Quantico and those visits we try to keep to a minimum. Washington's given us carte blanche to poke into all those dark, shadowy holes that haven't seen the light of day for years." Smith smiled depreciatingly at the indignant people before him.
"And I hate spiders." Patel added deadpanned.
Everyone stared open-mouthed at the strangest FBI agents they'd ever met. Who'd a thought? Feds with a sense of humour?
"Well, anyway," Simon growled, "we'll be fine on our own. And the best way of protecting ourselves is to take the bastards down."
"We're working on that," put in Smith.
"This is our case," argued Simon. "We put in a lot of work and effort to get Berger and we can get his son."
Smith laid the file he'd been holding in front of the tall man and opened it. "I'm afraid this is out of all our hands. Because of Escobar, this is an FBI case. It's going to be difficult enough for us without having to provide protection for you."
"We don't need your protection!" Rafe blurted out.
Simon held up a large hand as he slowly went through the contents of the large file. Sighing he handed it onto Taggart who in turn opened it and turned it round so everyone could see the pages. For a full two minutes silence reigned except for the sound of pages being turned and heavy breathing from the people round the table. Each sheet held photos of the detectives in various places around Cascade; in front of the PD, getting in and out of their cars, even through the windows of restaurants and cafés. There was a carefully drawn gun sight over each of their faces.
"These were sent directly to the governor's office," Smith continued. "She's taking the threats very seriously. I'm sorry, but you really have no choice."
"Where do you want to take us?" sighed Simon.
"Captain, you can't!"
"Simon, we can't trust them."
"Sir, I'm not going into a safe house…"
The Major Crimes group tried to convince their boss through noise alone. Simon sat back in his chair and pulled off his wire-rimmed glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose and waited for the shouting to die down. Eventually, silence again fell, but everyone still looked pissed.
"We have to take this seriously…"
"Simon, I have an idea."
Everyone turned to the former Bomb Disposal Unit captain. "The commissioner's been going on for ages trying to get us to go on one of those 'team building' initiatives." He drew quote marks in the air with his fingers when he said 'team building'. "Couldn't we all go on one of those? We'd be together and difficult to find. If we can find one that has military connections I'm sure it'd be better protected."
Smith and Patel looked at each other and Smith pulled out his cell phone. "This is agent Smith, could I please talk to the commissioner. Yes, he's waiting for my call. No problem, I'll hold." He put his hand over his phone. "This could take a while."
Banks sighed, he seemed to be doing that a lot today. "Okay, everyone. You've got work to do. I don't want you leaving this floor alone. Even if you need to go to the john, take someone with you."
"Gee," drawled H, "I ain't had anyone hold 'lil Percy while I peed since my mama had me in short pants."
Simon smiled in thanks at Brown's efforts to lighten the mood as everyone filed out of his office.
"Don't worry H," Megan put an arm on his shoulder. "I've got to have someone go with me as well. If you close your eyes, you can come with me into the ladies' and I'll handle your problem for you."
Jim slowly got up from the table and looked over at Simon. He looked shell-shocked and Simon thought for a moment that he was zoning, except his eyes held a pained bewilderment instead of emptiness.
"Go on, Jim. We'll talk later."
Ellison nodded and followed the others through the door.
Twenty minutes later Simon called everyone back into his office. "Okay, we have a result."
He nodded at Smith who spoke encouragingly, "The Governor's agreed to your idea. Tomorrow you leave for a week's team building. I'm not going to tell you where because little ears might be listening. Needless to say, it won't be near Cascade, so you need to pack thoroughly for some rough living. Remember, don't tell anyone about this. We'll take care of your families. And don't forget, turn off your cell phones. You can be traced through them."
Simon jumped in before the objections that were brewing in his detectives' eyes could get started. "I tried arguing our case, but the governor was adamant. I'm sorry, I tried, but we have no choice. Just look at it as an all expenses paid holiday. I've looked over what's being done for our families and it's the best that can be done."
"Hey, babe," H clapped Rafe on the back, "you'll have to leave Armani behind."
"Yeah," chortled Megan, "I don't think they do suits in checked flannel. And by the way, have you ever been camping?"
"Laugh it up. You'll see…"
"Okay, enough," interjected Simon. "No-one's to be alone from now on and that includes tonight. We're going to have bunk up together. Brown, get your mind out of the gutter. This is what we've decided…" It was going to be a long night.
"Simon, what about Blair?" Taggart insisted.
"Blair Sandburg?" questioned Patel. He opened the file he was holding. "Oh yes, he was part of the operation as well. Do you know where he is?"
There was an uncomfortable silence until Banks spoke up, "He left some months ago. Unfortunately, no-one knows where he's gone."
"He didn't leave a forwarding address?"
"No." Simon's answer was short.
"Jer," Smith spoke to Patel, "do what you can to find him. He needs to be protected as well. Mind you, if you can't find him Escobar probably won't be able to either." The unspoken 'I hope' was clearly heard by everyone in the room.
The following morning two unmarked cars picked up Banks, Taggart and Ellison from the loft and the others from H's house. They were driven to the airport where a small plane was waiting for them. Despite the danger hanging over their heads there was a holiday atmosphere in the aircraft. Once the 'seatbelt on' sign blinked out Simon stood up and faced his detectives.
"I can now tell you where we're going. In fact we're not going on one of those exercises, we couldn't find one that would take us on such short notice. So, what we're doing is going on a camping trip. The FBI is going to provide us with off road vehicles and tents and all that we'll need. And yes, Jim, the equipment does include fishing tackle."
Jim gave a wan smile while the others laughed. The three men had talked long into the night and both he and Simon had done a lot of soul searching regarding their treatment of Sandburg. Jim was beginning to feel uncomfortable about some of his assumptions and actions. Soul searching was not really something he embraced willingly. He'd rather have his fingernails pulled out! Slowly… Without anaesthetic! He'd genuinely thought that Blair was happy to be his partner despite everything he'd given up and that their friendship was strong. He'd been so convinced that they were on the same wavelength he'd launched himself into the undercover op without a moment's thought about how Blair would see it. Obviously, wishful thinking and relief that he and Simon had found a way of creating something good out of the 'diss mess' had made him blind to what had really been going on.
"Okay, Simon, spill it," Taggart encouraged. "Just where are we going?"
"Wyoming."