A/N So, they've cancelled the show – can't help thinking if the writers had invested a bit more in the development of all the characters and the group dynamic that made it such a success in the first place they might not have had to end it. How sad that it went out with a whimper of unresolved storylines and missed opportunities – so unfair to the viewers and the actors.

OK, so we die-hards will just have to persevere alone.

Summary: Danny Taylor has gone missing while working undercover. His boss on this job claims it's been three days. Danny's team race to find him.

Disclaimer: I can lay no claim whatsoever.

CHAPTER 8

12th PRECINCT: WEDNESDAY MIDDAY

Forty eight arrests made for a lot of paperwork and Agent Vivienne Johnson was up to her neck in it but she was on the look out for just one name, just one face. Nearly four hours into the tiresome process of booking in the men taken at the warehouse and the others arrested at various gang associated venues around the city, she spotted the person she wanted most.

His knotted head bobbed up and down as he was ushered in through the doors of 12 Precinct where a temporary additional booking desk had been set up to cope with the mornings events.

Viv raised her arm and gestured to the cops escorting the teenager to bring him right over.

"Mr Twist I believe."

Twist looked up with startled eyes, surprised to be greeted in such a way. The hallway was clearing now but still a line of ten handcuffed prisoners stood against the wall, watched by at least the same number of cops. Abuse was still being hurled, mainly by the employees of several clubs who'd been hauled in and were now claiming they "didn't know nothin' about no shipments".

The girls were the worst – dragged out of their beds, they were clearly not early risers. Their loud complaints seemed to centre mainly on the lack of time given to put on make up.

Twist was not complaining. He just seemed shell-shocked.

"Bring him this way," Viv ordered and led the way to an interview room down the corridor.

The cops sat him down then stood back.

Viv sat down opposite the young man and looked him over. He had a bandage and dressing high on his right arm. This is what had delayed his arrival then – everything had to be by the book, he had to be checked over by medics before being brought here.

"You've had a busy morning, Twist."

He looked around himself as if checking that Viv was actually addressing him but said nothing.

She brought out a folder and slapped it onto the table in front of him. The name Orlando Drego stood out clearly and his mug shot was stapled to the front of it. Viv flipped it open and slowly turned over the numerous pages inside.

"This is impressive for someone your age. You've done quite some stuff." Viv allowed a little admiration into her voice although she didn't feel it.

"But you know....today you've outdone yourself." Twist watched her warily.

"Today Twist, you moved into the big league. Today Twist, you became part of what could be the FBI's biggest operation in this city this year." Viv indicated the file in front of them. "All this has just been a warm up, right? For the Big Event. And now, here you are....about to go down... Big!"

Twist shifted under her gaze.

Viv saw a teenager the same age as her son, Reggie. Similar in height and build but they came from different worlds. She knew what he could have been but saw exactly what he was – a damaged product of a damaged society that had offered him no chances. A captive of other peoples' ideas about him. She could have had sympathy if it wasn't for Danny.

"If you play with the big boys, you do big time. You know, you're looking at a possible life sentence here."

Twist's eyes widened.

"What you talking about? I ain't doing life! I ain't done nothin'." He actually sounded outraged.

Viv assumed the manner of a patient schoolteacher addressing a particularly slow pupil."You were part of a gang that brought in hundreds of guns, that dealt in a ton of drugs and got involved in a shoot out against federal agents." She raised her eyebrows with incredulity. "What? You thought we'd let you walk away?"

The kid slumped.

"And you know what? Your time isn't going to pretty. It won't be in some juvenile facility now." Viv shook her head at him. "No, Twist. This time you'll be in with the grown-ups and they're just gonna love you."

Viv allowed the threat to hang in the air. The nervous gulp he swallowed sounded throughout the small room.

"I didn't know!" He blurted. "I didn't know what they were doing. Nobody told me nothin'. I was just there for the ride. I didn't do nothin'." His voice rose in pitch with each excuse and ended in something near a desperate sob.

Viv almost felt sorry for him.

"Well now if that's true, we could try to persuade a judge. We could tell the judge that, just like you say, you weren't involved in the deal or the shooting." She saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes, quickly overshadowed by a feral wariness.

"I ain't no snitch." He was defiant. If there was one crime a street kid like him would not accept, it was being called a snitch.

"Oh Twist, we don't need you for that – we have all the evidence we need down at the docks." She brought out another folder and slapped it down on top of the first. This too had a mug shot stapled to the front. Danny's face stared up.

"We need your help with this." Viv indicated the mug shot and pushed the file closer to the teen.

"You know him?"

Twist looked down at the photo and then up again at Viv.

"I ain't no snitch!"

"I don't want you to snitch. I just want you to tell me where this man is."

Twist looked down again.

"You know him right? That's Danny Alvarez – you know him." Viv made it a statement and noted the quick dip of the knotted head.

"We want this guy and if you help us find him we'll look at cutting you a deal."

"What's he done? Why d'you wan' him so bad?"

Viv took a deep breath ...because he's a friend...because something bad has happened...because he's lost...She fought to keep to her story. The whole reason Danny had entered into this job was to help his brother. The brother who was still in jail and who could still become a victim of prison justice if word got around too quickly that he might have been involved in Romano's downfall. Danny had called Viv before he'd taken off on the assignment and, without giving her any details, had asked her for help, for an assurance.

..."If something happens Viv, if the shit hits the fan, promise you'll make sure the Bureau sticks to the deal. This guy Morrison said he'd get Rafi out safely...just make sure that happens. Please, Viv...for me..."

It was the sole reason why Viv had sought out and maintained her contact with her old friend in Pre-emptive Crime.

No time now to break Danny's trust, or his cover.

"His rap sheet's a lot longer than yours – he's what we call a person of interest. He's close to Romano. We want him."

Twist sat up a little straighter at that. He felt a certain amount of power shifting back his way, although when he spoke it wasn't with triumph.

"Well, you ain't gonna find him." He paused. "He's dead."

Viv felt as though she'd been punched in the gut. As though a physical blow had taken her breath to be replaced by a rock that weighed so heavily she feared she couldn't speak...Danny...Fighting to keep her emotions from registering, she forced herself to stand and walk slowly around to behind the ridiculous knots. From here at least he wouldn't see if her face betrayed her feelings.

"How do you know? What do you know?" Viv forced the words out. To her own ears, they sounded strained but Twist didn't appear to notice.

"First off – what's my deal! What you gonna do for me?"

Viv slammed her hand down onto Danny's face. The sound echoed like a gunshot and Twist leapt inches off his chair. His nerves were fried after the gunfire of the morning, He'd been terrified at the drama that had unfolded around him in that warehouse, at the pain in his arm when he was hit by a ricochet, by the thought that his life was about to end.

Viv put her mouth close to Twist's ear and spoke quietly. "I think you should remember what he did for you. I think you should remember that he saved your life not so long ago."

She was taking a risk by shifting the emphasis now towards the emotional connection she hoped the kid felt. If that was what tipped him, it was worth the risk.

The teenager turned slightly towards her, his eyes narrowing slightly. Clearly he'd noted the change in approach but Viv pressed on. "You don't have many people around you who would do that for you, do you Twist? You should remember how it was only ever your brother who would do that for you before."

She swapped to whisper in his other ear. "You should remember how helping us now will help you in the long run."

She moved around so her face was only inches in front of his.

"And then you should remember exactly what happened and tell me about it."

SOUTHSIDE DOCKS: ONE WEEK EARLIER

Danny snapped his phone shut and cursed under his breath. This was the third time of checking and still there was no message. It had been two days since he last had contact with Morrison and that had been a hasty phone call which ended abruptly when Danny had voiced, again, just how much the man lacked as a handler. Then, anger had overcome any concerns he might have had about criticising a senior agent, his boss … We are so far beyond that...Now, Danny was wondering if this silence was actually vindictive. ..Christ, this can't end soon enough!

According to all he'd heard in the last month, the shipment on which this job was based was due the following week ...It's like waiting for the birth of my first kid...He'd passed the provisional time, place and date to Morrison but it wasn't enough. In theory he could be out of this already. Could have got out of this world and back to his own. Could have felt safe for the first time time in months.

Danny was tired and wired and he really didn't like the person he'd become, the identity he'd re-inhabited. The violence and distrust and unbearable tension was like a cloak he longed to discard.

"I know a guy could fix you up with one o' them i-phones."

Danny spun round as Twist hunched into view from the side door of the warehouse – sliding along the wall like one of the oily rats that scurried through this part of town.

He nodded at the phone Danny still held. "Could do you a good deal."

"You know, Twist, you should be real careful who you sneak up on. Someone might think you were spying on them."

The kid shrugged and grinned up at Danny. Since the stand-off at Carlito's Bar he'd steered clear of Eduardo and stuck close to Danny. Since the crew had virtually moved to the warehouse he'd been around less. He was acknowledged, even accepted but uninvited and hardly welcome. Even his ambition was muted by wariness amongst some of the gang members.

There were always several men here now, watching over the assorted deliveries that masked the true currency of the upcoming deal. Romano had sent Danny here a couple of weeks before. At first he was still able to return to his ugly apartment, to make face-to-face contacts, to relay information. Now though the clear expectation was that he should stay here, bunking on a cot in one of the back rooms, leaving only to visit the club or for a pick up of yet more disguised packets.

Rarely alone except for a hurried shower of a change of clothes Danny was feeling more than claustrophobic. It wasn't just the presence of others but a growing tension and uncertainty. The pressure was getting to all of them but Romano's own answer had been down the narcotic route and as the days passed Danny had seen the gang boss falling into the pit of dependency. Just as he'd seen his own brother topple into the abyss, Danny recognised the paranoia and mistrust growing daily into a gravity pull these men could not resist. Those that hovered around him were infected and sought their own substance solace. The spiral was only downward.

Sometimes Danny truly wondered if he should join the ride...Maybe it would make this shit easier.

Amid the darkening anxiety, Romano somehow still recognised Danny's steadiness. He had become unofficial overseer of the storage unit and all those who visited. The apparent promotion proved unpopular with those he watched.

Hector Eduardo watched Danny with ill-disguised hatred. Huddled conversations hissed in his wake and hands caressed weapons as he walked by. Romano was still the star of this show but to Danny it felt as though the detritus that orbited around him was soon to come crashing down...Please God, let me be out of here before that happens.

Twist sidled closer to Danny and turned his back to the street. Yesterdays papers blew against their legs as they whipped by on the cold breeze.

"It's not me they think is spying, man."

His dark eyes held Danny's gaze for a moment. "You gotta be careful, man. Eduardo...he's been mouthin' off...he thinks you got your own plans."

It was a moment Danny had been anticipating, the point he knew could come anytime, but he was still surprised by the chill he felt creep into his gut...Do they know?...He huffed a forced laugh ...Amazing how this becomes second nature.

"The only plans I got are to make a little money and earn a little respect. I got nothing to hide."

He slapped a hand onto the kid's shoulder and turned to leave but Twist reached for his arm and held him for a moment.

"I'm just sayin'...watch your back, bro. If you're plannin' on making a move, I mean." A pause, then the hint of a grin. "But if it works out for you, I'll come join you."

Danny shook his head...what the hell?...He watched Twist leave, sticking close to the wall and the chain-link fence – bobbing away with that gangster dip – moving off to slip back into the shadows of the warehouse.

"Get the manifest number. Get the exact time. Get the photocopies"...Yeah right, Morrison – get real! Danny's next phone call went unanswered too.

He knew something had changed as soon as he re-entered the musty gloom. Even with the doors closed and the stuttering strip lighting casting only a thin artificial brightness Danny saw six pairs of eyes turn his way and the huddle opened to receive him. He felt the familiar prickle of anticipation and nature's alert mechanisms blared in his head as loudly as the Mets tannoy.

Even as his instincts screamed "Turn! Run!" he controlled his movements, moving around slowly to take in the gathering.

Romano was there but this was clearly Eduardo's party – his power play.

He stepped into Danny's space, exuding a smell of sweat and bitterness. A sheen of sweat covered his tanned face, glistening in the creases and emphasising his already overly bright eyes...The guy is high as a kite...take it slow.

Danny barely glanced at him, looking instead right over his shoulder to Romano in a gesture of dismissal that caused the man's shoulders to twitch with irritation.

"Didn't realise you were here yet," Danny called. "You got news for us?"...keep it business...all business.

"I got news for you," Eduardo purred into his ear.

Danny turned towards the voice, their faces almost touching. "Yeah? Well, let's have it then, 'cos you're clearly bustin' to tell."

Eduardo smiled a sick smile. "I got friends. Friends with connections – friends who owe me." He stepped back to watch Danny's face. "And you know what they been tellin' me?"

Danny feigned a light look of surprised curiosity. "To be honest, I'm still reeling at the news that you got friends."

Edurado's fist flashed out quicker than Danny could react and he felt the blow to his gut where dread was already building to an ache. He doubled over but stayed on his feet. Eduardo grabbed a handful of his hair and brought his face up to his own level again.

"They been tellin' me you ain't been straight with us...that you got an ag-en-da."

Danny shook his head but Vincent's grip on his hair tightened.

"You thinkin' of branching out? You thinkin' you can walk in here and walk out with our business?"

Business? What the hell? ...What is going on?

"You know, you should really choose better friends, man, 'Cos they're selling you some crazy story." Danny's confusion was no act.

He saw Romano push off from the box he was leaning against and move in. The others clustered behind him. Eduardo's vicious sidekick Vincent crowded in and Danny caught a glimpse too of Twist's anxious face peering from the gloom.

Eduardo let go of Danny as his boss stepped in close.

His manner was congenial but Danny sensed an indignation that could mean disaster. "I brought you in as a favour to your brother. 'Cos I owed him from our time together. And this is how you repay me?" From this proximity Danny could see the glazed eyes, the tiny pupils. He could feel the tremors of energy radiating from the man.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Danny offered, his mind racing but his face held impassive.

"Eduardo here tells me you've been playing for more than one team, that you got plans to move across - maybe set up your own deal with Eno, break out your own."

Danny glanced over at Eduardo and saw a glint of something like triumph in his eyes....Uh huh!... so you got your boss tweaked enough to listen to some crazy story you've cooked up...sowing the seeds of doubt in fertile ground when the guy's a week away from his biggest ever deal...But there was no mention of being a fed, no mention of being a snitch, and that was something ...I might still make it out of here.

He shook his head and looked into Romano's face without flinching.

"You've got it wrong, man. I've had no dealings with Eno beyond helping you set this whole thing up. I don't know him outside of this. Why would I do that? You've been good to me."

"Yes, I have but I demand loyalty from my people." Felipe Romano had a lot to prove. He could taste the success he craved, the gangland stature it would bring. For him this was about pride and loss of face.

"And you've got it from me. Look...my brother's in jail ...I know just how far you reach... why would I do anything to get him into trouble?" It was a genuine appeal, heartfelt in its intent and expression. If openness had ever got him anything Danny hoped this would be it. He tried to reach Romano with his eyes, to convey just how very true this really was.

Romano had listened to Eduardo's ravings. Amid the growing nervousness that gnawed at him, through the drug haze of the nights and the freakish frenetic anxiety of the days, he'd registered the accusations. It was true, Alvarez was different. He held himself apart. He thought for himself and clearly held some of the rest of the crew in disdain. However he'd proved himself handy with fists and weapons. Oozing the confidence of the street, he'd displayed an admirable line in threats and coersion. Romano had come to rely upon him. But now, as the moment of his biggest chance drew nearer, he had opened himself to doubt. Eduardo's suggestions of double dealing made some sense - Danny was the only one of the crew bright enough to set something up for himself and any gang would see his potential. Eno would use him well. And yet ....

Romano searched Danny's face for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But there was no faltering and no tells to give away and, after a moment, Danny saw something change in the penetrating gaze. He nodded slowly in some kind of acceptance of Danny's honesty before turning his eyes then on Eduardo. There he saw the flicker of deception, a wildness that reflected more than the drugs that had pumped his confidence and stoked his jealousy.

"Maybe you should check your friends...check your facts." Romano sounded reasonable but he reached out and gripped Eduardo's shoulder, digging his fingers in as his voice hardened. "Sometimes we need new friends – old friends can become as difficult to trust as old dogs. They can turn on you. And you know what happens to old dogs..." He raised his hand from Eduardo's shoulder to lay it against his jaw. Danny saw the guy's throat jumping as he swallowed nervously.

The group stepped back to make room for Romano to leave, holding watchful positions around Danny and Eduardo like a pack of animals wary after a battle for top dog supremacy. Danny knew he could not push Eduardo any further. With his pride and position in tatters he was even more dangerous than before.

Danny turned and followed Romano out in time to see his car sweeping out onto the street and away. Looking up to the blackness above, he said a silent prayer of thanks, his hand automatically rising towards the golden crucifix he wore under his shirt. It had been his mother's – a reminder of his past in this godawful present.

He fought to control his pulsing nerves but his heart beat still sounded loudly in his ears, vibrating through his body. He was electrified by the adrenaline rush of fear and anger. It boiled inside him, mixing with thoughts of revenge in a cauldron of nauseating emotions, roiling and bubbling to the point of combustion.

"That's it!" It come out aloud....Payback!..Those dates, times and details are in there... somewhere.... get them and go!

He wanted out of this, right fucking NOW! ...Can't happen ...but just a week to go...just one week.

He turned back towards the warehouse...Okay...I got the buzz...let's not waste it....

Something in his head yelled a warning, something that reminded him of the cautious voice of his partner but he wasn't listening this time as he headed for the side entrance. A dull drone of voices came from the front of the building ….Yeah Eduardo, lick those wounds you evil son of a bitch!...A glance left and right then he headed for the back staircase. Two at a time, he leapt up the metal steps quietly and slunk along the upper walkway to the office Romano used.

Danny had been in here many times but never alone. The door had an electronic finger pad at its side – with apparent disinterest he'd watched closely enough to learn the pattern of numbers and quickly entered them. Stepping in, he shut the door silently behind him and flicked on the desk light. The room was utilitarian, so unlike the 'look-at-me' gauche luxury of Romano's centre of operations in the club. There it was wood panelling, shiny mirrors and expensive paintings. Here there was only a bland wooden desk and chairs and a series of filing cabinets down one side. Locked.

Danny reached into the desk drawer and felt towards the back. He'd seen Romano's hand dip in here and, sure enough, the small ring of keys was taped to the back.

He knew the file and the key and was quickly leafing though a wallet of papers, eyes flicking towards the door, muscles bunched tight under his jacket. Romano was a pro – the information here would mostly stand up to scrutiny as the documents of trade but the details of the shipment would be here too. Danny had seen it waved in their faces as Romano and Emil Tati celebrated their done deal with a line of coke.

One piece of paper read through at top speed and Danny had the information he needed. Everything was replaced and he was moving out the door once more.

All was black and silent. And wrong. Something moved to his right.

Against every instinct, he held himself still. Held his breath and stretched his senses in to the darkness. Nothing. He strained to hear more of what he thought had alerted him. Nothing. It was nothing. Nothing but a slight stirring of air. Nothing but a flash of movement. He tried to turn. An arm raised to protect himself but the blow was fast and hard. A flash of pain and bright light. And then....nothing.

SOUTHSIDE DOCKS: WEDNESDAY 13.30 PM

Martin snapped his phone open and glanced at the screen.

"Hey Viv."

He listened as she recounted Twists's tale. The cops around him read the signs, saw his body stiffen and his knuckles whiten around the handset.

"Did he say where they might have taken him?....Christ! ...and he didn't see him after that?...When was this? …When?...Bastard!" Martin was moving now, gesturing to the cops who had been helping search the warehouse and its surrounding units. "We're on it Viv ...Tell Jack we're on it."

Tucking the phone away as he ran towards his car, Martin yelled to the group, "The container yard – Eastern side. Get the dogs to meet us there."

Please! …Please! Let him be there ...let us find him...Please!

It was like a children's play ground. Filled with coloured blocks stacked into walls thirty feet high. Avenue after avenue. Row upon row. Watched over by the skeleton lines of silhouetted cranes. The containers covered an area half a mile square. A forgotten dumping ground for the business of the port – a broken and dilapidated yard for the metal shells of multi national commerce afloat.

How the hell are we going to find him here?...there are too many...and he's been here a week. A fucking week!

Already an hour had passed. The search party had divided and their methodical roaming along the stacks had eyes scanning for something out of the ordinary. Something to give them a clue. Martin broke away when the radio alerted him to the arrival of the search dogs.

They leapt from their van with a jolly eagerness that might have amused him in other circumstances. Blood hounds. Lolling tongues, wagging tails and bright expressions. Their handlers containing them while still encouraging their enthusiasm with excited words.

Martin handed over the sweatshirt that had been brought from Danny's locker at the bureau and watched as the hounds snuffled amongst the folds of material then set to the task they clearly loved. They split up too, to cover more ground, and Martin found himself jogging along in their wake as they cruised up and down the lines, sucking in the scents and moving on.

A yell. Martin was off and running before the others in his group had even registered it.

"The dog's onto something." The handler of the second hound called out and several cops converged with Martin in a distant corner of the yard. Martin was so focussed on scouring the stacks that he didn't notice the cop at his side until he felt a hand on his arm.

He looked up into blue eyes and a grim face. In his fifties, thickset, the guy had a steadiness that Martin noted even as he heard his New York tones. "Hold on son...let the dog do his thing ...don't crowd him."

Martin looked down and realised he was almost on top of the hound as it bustled back and forth barking with excitement. He backed off just as the handler raised an arm and waved them forward.

This stack was just like the hundreds of others. Four containers high, rusted, busted and peeling. But where the others were sealed this had doors held together with a padlocked chain slipped through the bars of the pivot lock. The chain was clearly a new addition and there were signs in the wet dirt below that the doors had been opened recently.

Martin turned to call for bolt cutters but the cop stepped in with them already raised.

The doors scraped on the ground, stuck on the dirt. Even using both hands he could not open them beyond the width of his own body to slip inside.

Oh my God!

The smell hit him first, assaulting his senses with horrifying memories of so many gruesome finds.

He scrabbled in his jacket pocket for a flashlight and swung the beam around the black interior.

No!

Martin froze as his eyes fell on the crumpled form.

Danny! No!

Against the back wall, Danny Taylor was on the ground, his legs bent awkwardly, head dropped onto his chest and his body slumped over sideways, held in the contorted position by his arms twisted behind and above him, tied at the wrists to a metal prop that formed part of the containers frame.

Martin knew it was him but he was barely recognisable.

"Danny! Oh God! Danny!" Martin's cry sent the officers outside scurrying to pull the doors wider, to call the medics, to alert the teams.

Martin was in front of him in six strides, reaching for his friend but scared to touch. His hands trembled as they hovered inches from him. For an instant he closed his eyes to shut out the sight.

"Is he alive?" The cop was crouched beside him now.

Martin was startled into movement. He raised a shaking hand towards Danny's throat and pressed fingers onto frozen flesh. Bowing his head he concentrated on the tips of his fingers - all his attention zeroed in on the coldness he felt. His vision swam as the flashlight played over the ruined and blackened face; the stiff dark stains covering the ripped shirt; the crusted cuts; the myriad of flaking streaks that painted every bit of broken and bruised skin.

A tiny flutter. There was something. A faint beat.

"I got a pulse! There's a pulse!...Danny! Danny!" He turned to shout behind him. "Medics ...We need the medics. Where are the medics?"

Now his hands were on his friend pressing against his face, his chest. He reached up to his tied wrists ...have to get him down... get him out of here... have to help him...

"Wait!"The cop grabbed his wrist. "Let the medics do it." He nodded towards Danny's shoulder. "We can't move him, son. We'll hurt him more."

Martin's eyes followed the look and took in the grotesque wound. A swollen mound of split flesh, black with dried blood, something lighter protruding. Martin sucked in a gasp as he noted the vivid colours of the bruising that covered his neck and disappeared under his ripped vest.

He felt himself pulled back. "Give them room."

Two medics appeared, already drawing apparatus from their packs. A stethoscope against the chest. An eyelid raised to reveal unseeing whiteness. Lifting his head to survey the damage, the younger guy pressed gently on the swollen mass that distorted the whole of the right side of Danny's face.

The older man was peering closely at the collar bone and then up to Danny's hands.

"We're gonna need your help." He looked at Martin and the cop at his side. They nodded. "You need to hold him in this position while I cut the ties."

Martin shuffled forward and slipped to Danny's right side, placing his hands on his chest...So thin...I can feel your bones...Oh Christ, is that grinding? Are they moving?...

"We got you, man. We got you. It's going to be okay. We got you. You're gonna be okay now." He muttered under his breath, keeping up the mantra as the medic cut the plastic tie with a scalpel and gently lowered Danny's arms, manoevering the right one in a wide arc while keeping a pressure on the vile wound. Martin felt sick when he saw the white bone move beneath the expert fingers.

"Lay him down."

They eased Danny's body down onto his left side, his right arm supported and a foam roll laid at his back to prevent him lying flat. Martin thought he heard a low rattle issue from his chest but he could see no movement there. The eye that he could see remained closed, the other was hidden by the distortion of bruised swelling. More flashlights were appearing now and the doors had been forced wide – the grey daylight revealing more of the broken mess.

Martin watched with horror as the medics worked their way up and down his friend's body. Snatches of their assessments floated through his head but he was too shocked to follow. He became aware of an air of added urgency as the younger medic hunched over Danny's arm.

" I can't get a line in. Got no veins. This guy's too dry.." He tailed off as his colleague took the needle from him. "We'll get it – take it easy." The encouragement of a mentor, the quick hands of experience, and Martin saw the needle finally sink into Danny's abused flesh. Tubes were attached, monitors fixed, a mask placed over his face and then he was being lifted onto a stretcher.

Martin rose and gazed around him at the stinking box. Garbage and filth was piled in the corners. A broken chair lay on its side. Cigarette butts. Empty liquor bottles and beer cans were strewn about. And needles....Oh dear God!

"You riding with us?"

Martin followed the wheeled stretcher into the waiting ambulance, all his attention trained on the still form. Glancing up once, he connected with the eyes of the cop who had been with him for the discovery. He was met with a look of sorrow and hopelessness. Martin knew it mirrored his own.

TBC

Phew! At last they found him! Let me know what you think.