Nate drove the van along the dark highway, looking for a good place to stop. He glanced at the clock—it was 10:30. Hardison followed his gaze.
"Hey man," said Hardison, shaking his head. "I'm not going to be the one to tell Sophie we're not picking her up from the airport because we adopted an FBI agent. That's your job."
"Yeah, yeah," Nate grumbled. "Find us a low-rent motel near here, and see if you can hack into the computer system."
"If? If?" said Hardison, waving his hands in the air. "Child's play, man."
He smirked as he tapped on his phone for a minute.
"Go another mile down the highway, and there's a Sleep Rite & Tite. By the time we get there, I'll be into their system. What kind of room do you want?"
"Get us something on the ground floor, out of view of the office. If you can, just mark it occupied without a name," Nate said.
"Got it." He tapped on a few keys and then pouted. "Does that mean no pay-per-view?"
"Hardison."
Nate raised his gaze to the rearview mirror. Eliot was kneeling next to Don on the floor, checking his pulse.
"How's our guest doing back there?"
"He's got a few injuries, but I think I can treat everything with the first aid kit once we get there," said Eliot.
"Do we have an idea when he'll wake up?"
"His breathing's slow but regular. Heartbeat's a little sluggish. I'd guess not for a few hours at least. He definitely has a head injury, but looking at these pupils—I'm going to say he's been drugged. We should have enough time to do what we need to do."
Seeing the lit motel sign, Nate pulled off the highway.
"Hardison, you got their security cameras yet?"
"Way ahead of you. I've been recording the last few minutes, and I'm looping the footage… now."
Hardison clicked something on his phone.
"We're good to go, Nate. Room 127."
Nate drove the van around the back of the motel and backed into the space next to room 127.
"Anyone in the rooms next to us?" said Nate.
"Nah, we're good. We've got two empty rooms on either side. Guess this isn't a popular place to stay," said Hardison.
"Or people only need the rooms for a short time."
"That's gross, Nate."
Nate smirked.
"Eliot, you get our guest. Hardison, be the lookout," ordered Nate. "Parker, you're on the door."
Pulling off her beret, Parker climbed out of the van. She spent about 10 seconds at the dingy white door to the room, then opened it.
"The security here's a joke," she said. "They should call it the 'hope you didn't bring anything valuable motel.'"
Eliot growled. "Parker, move."
Walking through the door with Don again in a fireman's carry over his shoulder, Eliot headed straight for the nearest double bed.
"Nate, make sure I don't hit his head when I put him down."
He leaned over, and Don's body slid off his shoulder and onto the paisley bedspread.
"Hardison, get over here. I need you to hold his back while I pop his shoulder back into place," Eliot said.
"Why can't Nate do that?"
Eliot glared at him.
"OK, fine. But isn't that going to wake him up?"
"That's the advantage of being completely drugged up. He won't feel a thing," Eliot said. "At least not until later."
Hardison propped Don against the yellow wall, and held him there firmly. Eliot, gripping Don's left arm gave one solid push. There was a light "pop" from the shoulder socket. Don's legs twitched, and his face flinched. Hardison nearly jumped.
"OK man, you got it in there. I felt that pop. Gross."
Eliot shot him a look.
"I need the first aid kit from the van and some ice. Do you think you can manage that?"
"I'll do it, as long as I don't have to play medic again," said Hardison.
He grabbed the ice bucket and walked out. Parker stood at the far end of the room, hands clasped. As Eliot sat with Don, Nate walked over to Parker.
"You're going to be fine, Parker. It's much easier than tricking Vector, and you pulled that off," Nate said.
"I know. I just…" Parker trailed off.
"It's different, I know. Think of it as a new tool in your bag of tricks for grifting. It's like a new harness or lock-pick," he said. "Take a deep breath and just be calm."
He patted her on the back.
"Now come on. We've got work to do."
Hardison walked back into the room and handed Eliot an orange first-aid box and the full ice bucket.
"That's everything," he said.
Nate nodded. "Hardison, I need you working on the phone situation."
The two men walked back out to the van. Eliot opened the orange box and began removing gauze, alcohol swabs and ointment. Parker sat down next to him on the bed as he wiped dry blood off a cut on Don's head, then bandaged Don's wrists, raw from the handcuffs, in the gauze and ointment.
"You want to help me with this?" Eliot said.
"I don't really know what to do," Parker said softly, as she looked down at her hands.
"I know it looks bad, but this guy's probably had worse," he said. "Take some of that ice and put it in one of these latex gloves and tie up the hole."
Parker grabbed the glove and started filling it with ice, then knotted the end. Handing it to Eliot, she said, "Now what?"
Eliot took the ice-filled glove and tucked it behind Don's head.
"Now we need a sling. That shoulder's going to be sore. His instinct will be to get up and assess the situation when he wakes up, and I don't want him hurting himself even more." Eliot looked around the room. "Give me that pillow case."
She reached for the second pillow on the bed and shook the case off of it. Eliot took out his pocket knife and ripped halfway down one of the seams. Parker just stared as he took Don's injured arm and folded it into the bottom of the pillowcase, then grabbed the two ends of the ripped seam, looped them around Don's neck and made a knot.
"See? Now that'll cradle his arm, so even if he jumped out of this bed, he wouldn't pop it back out," Eliot said. "You made the right call, Parker. This guy needed our help."
He looked up as Nate and Hardison walked back into the room.
"All set?"
Nate nodded, and Hardison held up a phone.
"One cavalry phone right here," said Hardison.
"Good. Let's go."
Nate turned to Parker. "It's your show now, Parker. If he sees any of the rest of us, this won't work."
Parker gave him a small smile, turned and sat down on the second bed. Nate, Hardison and Eliot walked out the door, and then she was alone with Don.
What was this guy like when he was awake? She'd never get the chance to know. It was funny in a way. She never really spent time with the clients—that was all Nate and Sophie. And really, this guy wasn't a client in the strictest sense, but she wanted to get to know him. The things Hardison had said about his FBI file—he sounded like he might be kind of scary. He probably wouldn't be impressed by her safe-cracking abilities. But somehow, looking at him at his most vulnerable, he didn't look so bad.
She sat and watched him for a while, trying to picture him fighting like Eliot, hacking from a surveillance van like Hardison or calling the shots like Nate. When he gave the first sign of movement, it had been at least an hour, probably more. Parker had lost track of time, between her daydream and just watching the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Suddenly, his breathing became more uneven, and he began to shift on the bed.
"He's starting to wake up," she whispered. "This feels… wrong, waiting for him to see me."
"I know, Parker, but you know he has to see you to help him follow our trail of breadcrumbs," said Nate's voice in her ear. "Remember, we don't really know how drugged he really is. Eliot thinks he'll probably fall back asleep at least once after stirring."
Parker stood by the bed and took a deep breath.
"I can do this. No stabbing," she said, mostly to herself.
Don shifted again, and his face crinkled up a little, like he was starting to feel some pain. His eyes fluttered, and then they were open. His gaze darted from the ceiling to the other bed and finally to Parker. He blinked a few more times, as if trying to focus, and then he was staring at her.
"Wh-Who…" his voice rasped and crackled.
"Shh, it's OK. You're safe now. Your friends are on their way. Just try to rest," Parker said, putting her hand on his forehead.
He mumbled something else, then reached up and touched her arm, but his grip slackened quickly. His eyes closed, and soon it was clear he'd fallen back asleep.
"Nate," Parker whispered. "Part one is complete."
"All right, finish part two, and we're out of here."
She pulled a folded up paper out of her pocket and gently tucked it completely into the front pocket of Don's jeans. From her other pocket, she pulled the phone Hardison had given her and set it next to Don on the bed. Backing away, she took a last look at Don, then crept out of the room and toward the van.
Pulling open the van door, Parker jumped inside.
"Let's go," she said.
Nate started the van and drove out of the Sleep Rite & Tite parking lot.
"Let's get at least 10 miles down the road, then it's time for part three, Hardison."
"You got it."