Liz was watching her partner and seeing him in a new light – literally. Blanket around him, he sat on the narrow cot, bare chested. IV's in hands that rested in his lap as he sat quietly, eyes downcast. In thought perhaps; in pain, most definitely; and yet he was calm. Lit in the glow of the oil lamps in the dimly lit cave she smiled inwardly. Barely the hint of it reached her lips. He wasn't the same man she'd met two years ago. Gone was the almost constant mistrust of her. Gone was the scowl and clench of his jaw that hid barely suppressed anger. Gone was the haunted soul she'd found in Sitka. He had sat beside her then with a blanket around him. But not like this.
Her eyes found the soft ginger eyelashes of her partner; catching the soft light, their color lighter than the hair on his head. Hair that was spiky, half drying now as his fever began to abate. Wandering, her eyes dropped to his chest finding herself inevitably drawn to his right shoulder. The bullet wound was long since healed. Years earlier his shoulder had been ripped open, leaving this stark reminder in its wake.
His eyes slowly lifted to find her looking at him. As he met her gaze, his eyes blue in the soft glow of the oil lamps, his lips parted slightly. And in that moment, she knew what Audrey had seen often. While clearly in pain from the surgery he was calm and comfortable in her presence. Clad only in a blanket, naked under it, yet more complete than she had ever seen him.
She smiled, letting the small inward smile find her lips now. "You okay?" she asked him softly, almost whispering in the silence of the cave.
"Yeah… You?" he asked her, voice low.
She smiled, turning more to face him as she winced at the pain that flared across her back. Head tilted, he regarded her now, seeing the bruises and scrapes clearly on her face in the low, flickering light. As his hand rose to her face she didn't move, feeling his fingers moving her hair gently aside to reveal a large, deep scrape above her right eye. Beside him, his other hand found the wet cloth and lifting it to her face he placed it gently on her forehead. Eyes closing as he gently dabbed at the scrape, she dropped her head imperceptibly, leaning into his gentle touch despite the pain he was bringing to the wound. And gently wiping the dried blood away as he cleaned the wound, his fingers lightly held her hair back as he worked.
Once clean, he reached into Shank's medical supplies beside them on the small table before lightly pressing gauze to her forehead. Silently and gently he dressed the wound, taping the gauze in place. And as she lifted her head and opened her eyes, his fingers were on her hair again, gently laying it over the gauze. His fingers dropped, finding her chin and turning her head slightly to the left. Finding a large scrape on her jaw line, he again proceeded to wipe it gently with the wet cloth.
"I'm supposed to be taking care of you," she smiled, and he stopped wiping her jaw, lowering his hand.
"Who says you aren't?" he asked, a small smile on his lips as he found another scrape and gently began to wipe it clean for her.
Her eyes settled on his shoulder wound again, lingering on the circular scar. "What happened there? Who shot you?'
He glanced at his bare shoulder, at the jagged round scar before gently moving her chin to the right now as he checked the rest of the scrapes on her face. Finding another deeper one, he wrung out the cloth in the water bowl and again softly wiped it down as he spoke.
"I'm not sure if it was Red who fired or Dembe," he answered distractedly.
"Did you ever ask them?" she asked, glancing at him.
Raising his eyes briefly to meet hers, before dropping them down to continue cleaning her chin, he smiled briefly. "It doesn't matter anymore. It's ancient history."
"I guess so," she agreed, as he lay the wet cloth down again.
"Turn around a little," he asked her softly as he found a large, deep scrape and cut on her left shoulder, visible under her blouse. Turning, she faced away from him slightly as he checked the wound.
As he began to work on cleaning it, her blouse clearly in the way, she unbuttoned and dropped her blouse off her shoulder. And as he cleaned the large wound on her upper arm and the back of her shoulder, he lifted her bra strap to gently wipe under it. His fingers soft as he wiped the dirt from the wound, he stopped again to wring out the wet cloth before resuming the task of cleaning the blood gently away. Neither spoke for the moment. Liz, with head lowered as her partner took care of her injuries and Ressler concentrating on the task at hand. Again she smiled and stole a look at him in the soft light, catching his chest and upper arms in her view. How did he hide all that under his suit and tie, she wondered.
Reaching for the gauze and tape again, he dressed the wound carefully, taping the gauze in place. And in an unspoken request and returned trust, she lowered her blouse completely and let him check her back.
"It looks bad, Liz," he said softly as she turned her head to look over her shoulder. "Covered in red and black bruises," he told her, softly running his fingers over her back, his IV tubing hanging down loosely between them. Finding a deep cut where something sharp had pierced her through her clothing, he began to clean the puncture wound.
Returning to their conversation, her head still looking over her shoulder to him, she spoke again. "So it was while hunting for Red that you got shot."
"Yes."
"And here we are, and he's…well, I'm not sure what he is, but he's not your enemy anymore, is he?" she asked, watching as his eyes glanced up at her before resuming.
"No, he isn't," he answered, reaching for the antiseptic cream in Shank's kit. "This might sting…"
Hissing in a sharp breath, she nodded.
"Sorry," he told her, placing gauze over the puncture wound and taping it in place. Fingers against her back and holding her hair out of the way he again felt the bruises, checking for any more wounds. Satisfied, he leaned up a little and glanced at her as she turned to face him. Her blouse still down, revealing the soft swell under her lace bra.
"There's a cut… here," she said, her hand on her waist on the left side. But he'd already seen it, and wet cloth in hand began to clean it for her as she moved her blouse further out the way. His hands right below her bra clad breast, he worked gently, head lowered as he cleaned the dirt from the deep scrape and cut. As he reached for the antiseptic cream again, she asked him another question.
"What if you ever had to hunt Red again?" she asked softly, her eyes on his hair as his hands brushed her waist.
"I don't think that's likely to happen, Liz."
"Probably not, but if it did, that would be…difficult," she said as his eyes rose to meet hers.
Eyebrows raised, he looked away momentarily, "I'd have to do my job and hunt him," he said, before his hand settled on her waist over the wound. "But yes, it would be difficult." He licked his bottom lip, before looking up at her, "And for you too. You'd have to hunt him with me."
She hadn't thought about that. "That would be…interesting, to say the least," she said quietly as he finished dressing the wound at her waist.
"Yeah, but that's not gonna happen," he said, putting the tape down again as she drew her blouse back up, reaching for the buttons at the front. Seeing her scraped right hand before him, he took her hand in his, head lowered and began to clean it with the wash cloth, revealing raw, bruised knuckles. "Because, believe me, nothing will make him run from you, Liz," he said, gently cleaning her hand.
She smiled in agreement as her partner continued to clean and dress her hand, before turning it over and looking at her palm. "You have tiny hands," he told her, glancing up at her.
"Perhaps you just have large hands," she smiled, gently flipping their hands over while being careful of his IV. And now holding his hand she met his eyes as they looked at her steadily in the soft light.
And as he was about to say something, her phone rang. Gently releasing his hand, she took her phone from her jeans pocket and looked at the caller ID.
"Hey, Aram," she answered as she found her partners eyes again. "How's the bat hunting going?"
###
The bats had all but disappeared around them, having been driven off by the activity above their temporary escape hatch. Hanging up from Liz, Aram walked back down the tunnel as the sound of the drill grew louder. The sun had set but light shone down from the floodlights above, illuminating the sandy tunnel floor and the growing pile of small rocks. As rocks and chunks of limestone rained down below, Shanks and Red were standing well back in the tunnel, letting Evans and the guys work above them.
"Did you tell her we'll be ready to get out of here in a couple of hours?" Red asked Aram as he came back into view.
"Yes indeed, I told her some big burly rescue guys will be there to bring them both up here on stretchers," he told Red, leaning forward to try and see the progress, yet unable to see anything as far back as they were. "Um, I don't think Agent Ressler liked that part," he added.
"Oh, of course not. Donald never likes to think of himself as a patient," chuckled Red. "Perhaps he should have picked a safer profession."
A large rock dropped down the alcove, hitting the walls and smashing into smaller rocks below and scattering them. "Look out below!" yelled Evans, way too late. From above they heard laughter. They knew the three men in the tunnel were well back.
Shanks was on the radio. "How big an opening are you planning on making up there?" he asked, as they sat down against the walls of the tunnel further down toward to the old cave-in.
The radio squawked as Evan's replied. "Big enough to get the bosun's chair down safely. We're going well though. Should be through in an hour or so then we just need to set up the tripod above the hole."
As Shanks replied, Aram picked up his phone to text Samar again to fill her in on their progress. And wandering off down the tunnel again, they didn't seem nearly as creepy now that bright floodlights were shining down from above and rescue was just a few feet away from him.
###
As Liz got off the phone, Ressler shook his head. "So they're going to stretcher us out of here," he said, looking toward the tunnel entrance.
Smiling at his aversion to that thought, she slipped her phone back in her pocket. "In a couple of hours, yeah."
He looked back to her, then down to his blanket. "Well, it will probably take me that long to get dressed anyway," he mused.
Easing off the cot, Liz rounded up his clothes and sat them next to him. "If you need help, just ask," she told him, and he met her eyes.
"Thanks."
"I'll be over here if you need me," she told him and slowly made her way over to the small table and chairs, where she began to look at more of Conrad's drawings.
Behind her, Ressler dropped his blanket and began to slowly dress. Bending down was almost impossible. But through sheer stubbornness and more than a little wriggling and shuffling around, he did get his underwear and jeans back on. Sitting on the cot with belt hanging unbuckled around his waist, he breathed hard. The movement had woken up the pain in his incision and a wave of nausea swept over him.
"Liz. Bowl," was all he got out as he sat swallowing hard and willing himself not to throw up with fresh stitches in his belly.
Beside him again, her hand rested on his shoulder as she held the bowl to him. And leaning into him her hand rubbed his bare back as he fought not to throw up.
"It's okay," she told him, sitting beside her partner as he shuddered beside her. Slowly his breathing recovered and he set the bowl on the other side of him, averting the vomiting, but closing his eyes against the pain.
"Why don't you lay down for a bit?" she asked as he nodded. And moving the bowl, she gently helped him lie down as he gasped in pain, before laying the blanket back over him. Resuming her place at his side, she sat on her chair and leaned close.
"Perhaps Shanks has some pain meds that aren't...bad for you," she said, and he shook his head.
"I'll be okay," he said, turning his head on the pillow to meet her eyes, finding her smiling.
"What?" he asked.
"I think that's the first time you haven't said 'I'm fine'," she smiled at him. "Well done, partner."
"I'm also fine," he added, smiling at her as she laughed and shook her head at him.
She moved to pick up his socks and boots, and knowing he couldn't bend down far enough to manage that she held them up in question. He nodded to her, and moving the blanket up she set about putting his socks and boots back on his feet.
And as he lay there as she tied his shoelaces, he realized that if he had to be recovering from surgery he was glad it was with Liz around.
###
Above the tunnel, the drill had been moved back out of the way. Venturing forward and standing cautiously under the opening, Aram and Red rolled back the stones and rocks, leaving a cleared floor for the chair to descend to. Looking upward into the bright lights, the opening in the cave ceiling was now about 4 feet wide. Evans and Deeks were visible working to secure the large tripod and winch, ready to lower the bosun's chair into the opening. Aram caught Red looking at his watch for the second time in a few minutes.
"Um, do you need to be somewhere, Mr Reddington?"
"Yes and no. I am concerned for the safety of Conrad and the longer we delay down here the less chance we have of retrieving him back safely," he told Aram, resisting the urge to look yet again at his wrist watch.
Behind them Shank's radio squawked as Evan's voice came to them. "Okay, stand back, we're lowering the chair."
Moving back, the three stood as the chair was lowered down on the winch. Turning slowly as it came down, bearing a fireman sporting a Rockland Fire & EMS t-shirt, it soon came to a stop before them. Unbuckling himself from the chair, he stood back as it was hauled up to retrieve the next man.
"Hey, Adam Marcus, how you folks doing?" he asked Red and Aram, nodding in recognition to Shanks behind them. Introductions complete, he shone his flashlight up and down the tunnel. "Okay, so where are these two patients who need assistance?" he asked.
"You have a little walking to do first," said Red as they stood aside as the second fireman was being lowered. "And Aram here will show you the way. Won't you Agent Mojtabai?"
As the second fireman came to a stop near them, Red stepped forward. "Rick," said the fireman, extending his hand as Red shook it.
"Rick, I wonder if I might take the next chair up," Red asked, again looking at his watch. Rick agreed and strapped him into the chair, and as Aram turned around to talk to Red he saw him being lifted up out of the tunnel.
"Oh. Okay," said Aram, realizing he was the lead agent on scene again.
###
"Just sit still, I got this," Liz told her partner. Ressler was sitting up again and feeling a little more like himself now that the IV bags had emptied their contents into his veins. Ever the stubborn one, he'd been about to pull them himself when she'd gently held his hands and began to remove the first IV. As she removed the tubing and capped off the IV's, he looked down at her bending over his hand. He was quite capable of pulling an IV himself, but he let her do it. And smiling at her lowered head as she gently pulled the plastic tubing from his vein, he had to admit, she was doing it far more gently than he'd have done it.
With hands free of the IVs, he was able to finish getting dressed. Carefully pulling on his t-shirt, he then drew on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned and hanging loose over his jeans, covering his unbuckled belt. Now all he had to do was stand up.
Slipping her phone back in her pocket after reading a text, Liz looked up at him, "Aram said they're almost here. Ready?"
Beside him, her arm looped in his she helped ease him off the cot to a standing position. He wasn't sure who was leaning on whom, but so far so good.
"Okay?" she asked as he nodded.
"I'm great," he told her then took a step forward. And was still on his feet. Always a good thing, he thought. And once he started, he felt better. Taking slow steps and basically deciding to ignore the pulling on the stitches in his belly he walked to where the water was coming into the cave then pooling before it made its way to another chamber below their cave. Dipping his hands into the natural pool, it felt cool and inviting against the bruised backs of his hands. Taking the small metal cup nearby, he held the cup under the small stream of water and drank a couple of sips. It did nothing to appease the raging thirst he had, but he didn't trust his stomach to hold much more than that down.
"Conrad sure has a neat setup here," he told Liz, looking around them. As they stood together, voices came from the tunnel, before Aram entered the cave followed by Shanks and four firemen toting two stretchers.
"Cavalry's here," whispered Liz, as Ressler raised his eyebrows and looked dubiously at the firemen as they walked slowly over to greet them.
"Don, what are you doing up? You shouldn't be walking," admonished Shanks, coming to stand beside them, surprised to see their patient standing upright and dressed.
"Thought I'd get some stretching in before I went for a jog," he told the medic, as Liz couldn't help but chuckle beside him.
"Shanks, meet the stubborn side of my partner," she smiled as the medic just shook his head.
###
Back on the surface, having hastily met Evans and Deeks, Red took in his surroundings. Sparse trees ringed the small rocky outcrop they were on, before the trees thickened to the forest that surrounded the nearby Sanatorium. Barely visible in the moonlight, he could make out the top of the tall building through the trees. The trees around him were picking up a familiar light. The lighthouse, its steady rotation lighting up the night was visible from almost due north of him. Turning from the dark Sanatorium, he watched the lighthouse for a couple of rotations, surprised at how pleased he was to see it again.
Turning his attention from it, he began to walk carefully along the rocky ground, flashlight shining on the rocks and grass. Fresh with the smell of recent rains, he breathed in the night air, the breeze refreshing on his face after so long underground. Behind him, the remaining two firemen and the stretchers were being lowered to the tunnel. Stepping carefully, the rocky surface of the ground illuminated in the lighthouse beam and his flashlight, he found what he was looking for. Bending down, he studied the rocky outcrop before nodding in satisfaction. In the silence of the night, the only sound the distant waves on the rocks; he made his way back to the two Coast Guard men. Standing at the top of the hole they were talking together, their work done for the moment.
"Mr Evans, Mr Deeks. I wonder if you gentlemen would be so kind as to move your drill further down here for a few minutes," Red asked them congenially.
"Oh? What for? Don't tell me we have more trapped FBI agents?" Deeks asked, only half joking and looking worriedly in the direction of Red's flashlight illuminating a small, fresh rock fall.
"Not exactly," smiled Red, "But a little Quid Pro Quo is always good for the soul."
As Deeks and Evans shrugged and gathered up the drill, they made their way along the rocks. And as they did so, a sound reached him. The distant motor of a speed boat. Turning, Red listened and smiled. The two Coast Guard men heard it too.
"It's not one of ours," Evans said, looking at Deeks.
"No, it's mine," said Red, looking at his watch again. "And right on time," he told them, turning to the direction of the motor as it grew louder.
###
Ressler was arguing with the fireman. "I'm fine. I don't need to be carted out of here," he told the fireman who had introduced himself as Rusty.
"Sir, from what I understand, you had a field surgery four hours ago. If you were in hospital they'd insist you were wheeled from your room to the lobby in a wheelchair. It's not because you're incapable. It's because of liability issues. Same deal here. I need you to lie down on the stretcher so Mike and I can haul you out of here," Rusty explained patiently.
Liz smiled behind her partner. "Ress, we'll be here all night if you don't lay down for them, and I for one would like to get up on the surface," she told him.
He looked behind him to see her standing wearily. She was right. She needed to get out of here. "Okay, fine," he told the fireman who had the stretcher lying on the cot for ease of access. Stepping to it, Ressler eased himself down into it and allowed them to strap him onto it. Breathing hard, Shanks again offered him some pain medication.
"No, thanks," Ressler told him, closing his eyes against the pulling in his belly.
As Rusty and Mike lifted him, the other two firemen, Adam and Rick repeated the procedure for Liz. And with their two patients secured, they carried them on their stretchers from the cave and along the tunnels. Aram and Shanks led the way, shining a bright fireman's flashlight in front of them.
The smell announced the bat cave before they reached it and as they approached a few bats circled above them. Liz closed her eyes against them, while Ressler watched them and smiled. The little flying creatures had got them out of here.
Reaching the bosun's chair waiting for them in the tunnel, the firemen lowered the stretchers to the ground, then helped Ressler and Liz up. Panting in pain at the strain on his stomach, Ressler stood back, hands on his knees as he stood hunched over and let them strap Liz into the chair first.
Shanks leaned close to Ressler. "I understand. What was it? Oxy?" he asked, his voice low and out of earshot of the firemen.
Ressler slid his eyes sideways to the medic, thought briefly about denying it, then trusted Shanks and nodded.
Understanding, Shanks placed his hand on Ressler's shoulder. "How long has it been?"
"Five months," Ressler answered, swallowing hard against the pain.
"I can give you some Tramadol. It's not as strong as the opiates, but it will take the edge off for you while we get you out of here and on the Jawhawk when it lands," Shanks told him quietly.
"I'll think about it," Ressler told him, his breathing steadying as he stood more upright.
The chair was being lowered again as the four firemen stood around it. Understanding the agent's reluctance now, Shanks patted Ressler's shoulder then led him to the chair to be lifted to the surface.
"Come on, Don, let's get you out of here," he smiled.
###
Joining Liz and Red on the surface, Ressler now stood by the two of them breathing in the night air. After the dusty tunnels it was a welcome change. Like Red, he'd turned to the lighthouse and found a strange comfort in seeing its beacon shining in the night. Red turned to him, patting his shoulder.
"Looking good, Donald," he smiled.
Noticing the drill further down the rocky outcrop, Ressler turned to Evans in question.
"Oh, that was our good deed for the night. When this hole is sealed up for safety, our little flying friends will have their original cave access," he smiled, looking up from the winch as Aram came up to the surface.
Red was standing by Ressler when their attention was drawn to a flashlight coming through the trees to their right.
"Damn," said Ressler, instinctively reaching for his sidearm, but knowing it wasn't there.
"Oh, don't worry Donald. Trust me, they're the good guys," he told the agent then left his side to meet the two men running through the trees.
As the lighthouse beam came around again, illuminating the two men who were now leaving the cover of the trees, Ressler shook his head at the criminal as Liz came up beside him.
"Dembe!" she said, as they watched the dark man meet Red and hug him.
"Yup." Ressler turned to her. "NOW the cavalry is here," he told her, shaking his head at seeing Red's well oiled machine at work.
Aram was beside them now, watching the meeting of the three men in the moonlight. "I knew he was waiting for something," he smiled in satisfaction, "or someone, as it turns out."
Shanks came up to them now as the firemen came up from the opening one by one behind them. "Okay, the Jayhawk will be heading this way soon. The best place for it to land is up at the old hospital grounds, and it's also closer than the small beaches. So, that's where we need to head."
He looked at Ressler. "And we WILL be carrying you guys over there again, right?"
Ressler caught Liz's raised eyebrows at him, and turning to the medic he sighed, then put on his best fake smile for Liz's sake.
"Oh, absolutely."
###
"Gentlemen, our target is the old Sanatorium over there. I believe that is the best place to start looking for Conrad," Red told his employees. "We have the added advantage that the Cabal's attention will soon be distracted by our friends in the Coast Guard as their helicopter comes in to land."
Glancing behind them as the medic and firemen got Ressler and Liz back on their stretchers, Red turned back to his men. "Let's go," he said, taking the firearm that Dembe handed him. And taking off through the trees he now focused on the task ahead of him, knowing the FBI agents were in good hands.
Running through the trees in the moonlight, Red led the two men toward the Sanatorium that grew closer. The dark building stood imposing and still in the night air, blocking their view of the starlit sky behind it. The surrounding wall visible through the trees now, Red saw the opening off to their left and changing direction slightly, made a bee line for the gate.
Still closed, the three of them made short work of climbing over the metal gate, jumping down into the compound on the other side and crouching down on the ground. There was no sign of life or light from the building.
"Dembe, did you bring it?" Red asked his companion quietly, but Dembe was already reaching into his backpack. "Right here Raymond," he said, handing his boss a portable scanner.
"Good man," said Red softly, turning on the scanner and holding it up to the building before them. At first the screen showed nothing, only the grey outlines of the building. Moving it slowly along the length of the building before them, the image suddenly changed. The infra red receptors on the scanner picked up the temperature change, and showed a man shaped image visible in reds and yellows on the scanner screen.
"That looks like a guard," whispered Frank from behind Red, looking up at the building and ascertaining where the image was in the dark.
Red continued his infra red scan of the building, now coming across what he had hoped to see. The scanner showed a room with three occupants in it, and one sitting while the other two stood above him.
"There he is..." he said softly, as Dembe looked up, again judging where the room was in the building. On the second floor, the shuttered windows hid what was going on behind them. But they had the location now and turning off the scanner, Red stowed it in Dembe's backpack. Still crouched in the dark, the three men made their way along the wall, approaching the blacked out building.
"We need to be in position before that chopper gets here," Red told them, and picking up their pace they jogged along the wall, coming to a stop as close to the building as they could. Small windows at ground level caught his eye, as Red saw their previous accommodations. Conrad was not being held in the cells, but in an upper story room. Motioning with his fingers, Red gave the signal and the three of them ran to the building, coming to stand with their backs against the cold bricks. And edging their way along the outside of the building, they came to a doorway set back in the bricks.
"Now we wait," whispered Red, looking skyward.
###
Ressler and Liz were also approaching the old hospital, though at a far more sedate pace. On the stretcher, Ressler was feeling frustrated, to say the least. While certainly in pain, he'd been in pain for two days and felt he had functioned quite well under the circumstances. Lifting his head a little to see where they were going, tired of looking at the moonlit trees above his field of view, the brick walls of the old hospital were before them. Closer than he'd realized, he felt buoyed to know he'd be off this thing soon enough.
Two minutes later he was lowered to the ground by the firemen as they stood outside the wall. And as Mike ran to the gate to make short work of the gate padlock, Ressler unbuckled the strap and rolled to his knees on the ground before standing up slowly, using a small tree for support as he stood. Clutching the tree, he had a momentary feeling of déjà vu.
"You just couldn't wait, could you?" Liz said to him from her stretcher, still carried by Adam and Rick.
Stepping over to her stretcher he looked down at her, "Oh, you know me," he told her.
"Yes, I do," she told him, smiling despite herself, inwardly pleased to see him feeling better enough to be up and defying them.
Mike was motioning to them now as he swung one of the gates open. "Just in time," he called to them as in the distance the sound of a large Jayhawk helicopter reached them.
Moving through the gates, their large group settled against the inside of the walls to await the arrival of the helo. Ressler was walking slowly, but walking nonetheless, preferring that to being carted around.
Lights were visible through the tree tops as the helicopter approached. The large orange and white Coast Guard chopper coming into view completely now and hovering over the abandoned hospital, the downdraft hitting them as the engines roared overhead. The night air was suddenly lit up as the searchlight broke through the darkness, a beacon of light shining down on the green grass of the compound, illuminating the landing area as they hovered above it.
"Just wait! Wait for them to come to a complete stop!" called Shanks to them over the roar of the engines, shielding his eyes as grass and debris were whipped up around them.
###
"Now!" called Red to his men as the roar of the chopper filled the air. Aiming his assault rifle at the lock on the door before them, he fired. Obliterating the lock, they rammed into the door sending it flying open. Charging as one down the hallway they came across a stair case. As they made sure it was clear, they ran up the stairs, before turning toward the room they had seen on the scanner. Their way lit only by the filtered light reaching them from the helicopter as it roared on the other side of the building, they ran down the hallway. On the scanner, the room with the three men came into view and as Dembe pointed to it, they stopped, now standing outside the door in position.
Holding up a three count on his fingers as Dembe stowed the scanner again, Red counted down to two. Then dropped to one finger. And making a fist, the three men stormed into the room, finding it brightly lit after the dark hallway.
Momentarily blinded in the bright light, they came face to face with three gun wielding men. Two of them standing, and one in the chair.
It wasn't Conrad.
The broken nosed man sat in the chair, his weapon aimed at them.
As Dembe fired, his shot went wide, only grazing one of the standing men in the arm.
Rising quickly Broken Nose held his assault rifle to Dembe's head as another man disarmed him. The third man who had previously been standing guard came into the room behind them and fired at Frank, dropping him and leaving him writhing on the floor.
Cursing as blood poured from the gunshot wound in Frank's belly, Red held his weapon on Broken Nose, regarding him steadily. "Where is Conrad Lucas? What have you done with him?"
Broken Nose ignored the question,. "I suggest you lower your weapon, or I'll shoot this one too," he told him. "I don't need either of these two. You're the one I want."
"Really? And why is that?" asked Red. "You had me, remember? And you let me go."
"You fulfilled your purpose then. Now I have a new use for you. But if you don't lower your weapon, I'll shoot your man here," he told Red, pushing the barrel of his rifle into Dembe's forehead.