Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.

For those of you who are not familiar with The Sentinel's characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy! Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. Band of Brothers and Welcome to Cascade take place before September Song [Hardy universe] begins, and any time after The Perfect Partner [Sentinel universe]. Missing Persons happens right after Fanfare for June [Hardys]; A Matter of Public Record takes place any time between Death on the Fourth of July and February Flirtations [Hardys], and before Remodel and Rebuild [Sentinel].

The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Nor does airport security!

Thank you, Sarai!

Welcome to Cascade

A Sentinel/Hardy Boys Crossover Story

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers

Chapter 3

"Jim, you keep grinding your teeth like that, you're gonna be in the dentist's office all next week while they try to repair your cracked molars."

Jim gave his partner a malevolent look. "You're enjoying this," he accused.

"Hey, I don't mind dressing up," Blair preened a little, smoothing down his satiny vest. "And you gotta admit, you look damned sharp in a tux yourself."

"What's the way I look in a tux have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, I suppose," Sandburg admitted, "I'm just trying to find some positives, man!"

Jim chuckled unwillingly. Trust Blair to look on the bright side. He looked around the spacious Cascade Convention Center ballroom at the glittering crowd of socialites dressed in their finest.

His keen eyes picked out the members of his security team one by one: Rafe, looking entirely at home in his tuxedo, lounging nonchalantly near the punch bowl and making light conversation with elegantly-attired dowagers – who were nearly cooing over the handsome police officer with the exquisite manners. Brown, who was pacing about the central hall outside the ballroom, surprisingly sleek and polished. Megan Connor, on Captain Banks' arm, looking anything but a police detective in her low-cut, slinky dark green evening gown, her auburn hair a cascade of curls atop her head. Jim decided she must be carrying her weapon in her tiny gold-lamé purse, and momentarily wondered what caliber gun would fit in the little receptacle! Joel Taggart, looking like a well-dressed teddy bear. Several of the uniforms from Major Crimes, oddly unfamiliar in their formal wear, but blending in unobtrusively as well.

Everything's going okay...so far.

The guest of honor, Thor – whose real name was Kjetil Hakonsen – or the rest of his group, Valhalla – hadn't appeared yet. Ellison understood the technique involved – keep the audience waiting – but still, it irked him. This wasn't a concert, and these people were spending a lot of money to support Thor's cause. It seemed to the detective that the singer ought to make the effort to acknowledge it a little better! He was also surprised at the large turnout, considering that this reception had essentially been an impromptu affair, with very little warning. I suppose the rich and influential can always find time to dress up and come to a party...

"Think your dad will be here?" Blair inquired now, surprising Jim out of his cynical thoughts.

"He might be, at that," Ellison conceded, "although as far as I know, he's never been into rock stars! Or saving seals. I saw Stephen, though," he added, meaning his younger brother, who was following in William Ellison's footsteps and was on his way to becoming one of the more prominent businessmen in Cascade – as their father already was.

"He wouldn't have to be into rock stars, just one of the more important people in the city," Blair observed. "With money. And you gotta admit, he is that!"

"Yeah." Ellison resumed scanning the crowd closely, and felt his partner's hand warm against the small of his back, as Sandburg unobtrusively grounded him. After a moment or two, the Sentinel relaxed, letting his hearing and vision return to normal. He smiled down at Blair. "Thanks," he said softly.

"Everything okay?"

"For the moment – but after all, Thor isn't here yet!"

#####

"D'ya think we'll get to see him?"

"No telling...but from what I know about famous people, they tend to use back doors whenever possible."

Joe, Frank and Daryl had stationed themselves directly across the street from the rear entrance to the Cascade Convention Center, and were lounging against a parked car, digital cameras close at hand. They were not alone; at least a hundred people had had the same idea. There were similar crowds surrounding each exit from the building, but the Hardys and Daryl were betting on Thor using this back door.

"Has your dad said anything about whether or not we can go to the concert yet? Or help with security?" Frank asked now.

Daryl shook his head. "No...but after all, he assigned it to Jim, so he might not know. I mean, he'll know the general plan, but he leaves the details to whoever's in charge."

Joe sighed impatiently. "Shouldn't he be here by now?"

"Big-name stars always want to make an entrance...and that means being at least 45 minutes late," Frank said sagely.

Joe wasn't the only one voicing his displeasure; other people in the crowd were grumbling as well. Many of them had been in place for hours already, hoping for a glimpse of the famous singer and his bandmates.

"Well, nothing yet," Daryl sighed. "Bet Dad and Jim and the rest of the guys are feeling like they're wasting a lot of time, hanging around in there."

"At least they get to eat the hors d'oeuvres!" Joe said enviously. "I'm hungry!"

Suddenly a ripple of excitement went through the crowd, as a black limousine with dark-tinted windows moved slowly into the alleyway. The Hardys and Daryl stood up straight in anticipation, cameras pulled from their pockets. The limo pulled up directly in front of the door, and a burly man dressed in black jumped out of the front passenger seat. He scowled at the hovering fans, waving them back.

"Bodyguard," Frank murmured – and snapped his picture anyway. Even Thor's bodyguard was of interest.

A moment later the back door of the car opened, and screams of delight heralded the emergence of a long, lithe figure in dress clothes: Thor himself, blonde hair streaming halfway down his back and his eyes concealed by dark glasses. He grinned and waved, then ducked his head and strode quickly towards the door. Cameras flashed continuously, creating a strobe-light effect. His guard stayed right behind him, shielding him from the enthusiastic crowd, and the two disappeared into the building.

No other members of Valhalla appeared; apparently Thor was the only one attending the soirée. The chauffeur got out and closed the limo's doors, then resumed his seat and drove out of the alley. The crowd parted reluctantly to let the big vehicle pass.

"Didja get any good shots?" Daryl slipped his camera into his pocket.

"Well, he had his head ducked down most of the time, but I may have gotten a couple," Joe said with satisfaction. "So now what? Do we stick around and wait for him to come back out, or what?"

"Sounds like a lot of waiting for probably nothing," Frank demurred.

"Do we have anything better to do?" Joe demanded. He lifted his camera high and took a few random shots of the crowd of fans still milling around in the alley.

"Let's go over to the Torpid Turtle and grab something to eat," Daryl suggested. "It's only a block or so, and then we can come back and wait for Thor to come out."

"The Torpid Turtle?" Frank repeated, amused by the name.

"Yeah, it's a restaurant/sports bar. Good food, reasonable prices. Come on." Daryl turned and led the way.

"I hope the name doesn't mean they pride themselves on slow service..." Joe trailed behind the two older boys, taking an occasional picture as they walked along.

#####

Inside the Convention Center, the tumult had increased exponentially when Thor entered the place; evidently the baby boomer generation was as enthusiastic about the singer as his younger fans grouped outside. Striving to keep a watch for any possible threat, Jim Ellison felt himself becoming overwhelmed by the sheer volume, with the additional stress of a myriad of scents and visual stimuli emanating from the crowd. He shook his head in frustrated irritation, trying by sheer force of will to combat the sensory assault, at the same time knowing that wasn't the answer to the problem.

"Concentrate on me for a minute, Jim." The low voice cut through the uproar, and Ellison sighed in relief. Miraculously, Blair was beside him again, appearing out of the crowd like the reply to an unspoken prayer. Jim couldn't begin to explain how his Guide managed to know he was needed; it was just something that Blair did, time and time again. "Take some deep breaths and get settled before you try to start filtering again."

The Sentinel obeyed, visualizing dials that had begun to spiral upwards. He wrenched them down to below normal for a brief period, then inched them back up, at the same time filtering out scents and sounds one by one and dismissing them once they were identified.

"Ecccchhhh..." He shuddered slightly, and felt Blair's arm tighten a little around him. "Way too many perfumes and colognes. Bad as those perfume shops you dragged me to, way back when!" Both men smiled, remembering their very first casework together.

"Anything out of the ordinary?"

"No – not that I notice. Well, yes and no," Ellison amended with a tight smile. "There's been some use of not-tobacco, but they kept it outside with the rest of the cigarette smokers, and we're not here to bust wealthy users of marijuana tonight anyway."

The crowd was settling down now. Thor was doing the rounds, being charming as he was introduced to wealthy and influential Cascadians. The long blonde hair and his height and slender build made him stand out, even in the large group of people. His hulking bodyguard remained close to him, and Jim noted that Simon and Megan had unobtrusively drifted closer to the rock star – as had Rafe. Joel was near the main exit door, and Henri was still in the outer hall.

"You okay now?" Blair was still rubbing his partner's back gently.

"Yeah, I'm good. Go do your job." With an affectionate smile and a gentle tug on his ponytail, Jim dismissed the younger man. "If you spot anything, give a yell."

Blair nodded and moved off toward the knot of people surrounding Thor.

###

When he felt he had circulated enough and shaken enough peoples' hands, the famous singer moved towards the front of the big room, where a small platform complete with microphone had been set up.

Jim glanced around, catching the attention of his various security people with his eyes. If Thor was about to start in on his speech and fundraising appeal, this might be the logical time for any attacks to be made. He wanted everyone involved to be alert and on their toes.

"Good efening, ladies and gentlemen..." The softly-accented voice came through the microphone clearly as Thor launched into his spiel. Immediately everyone quieted to listen to him. "I am Thor, and I sing with the rock band Valhalla. You may have heard of us." A ripple of laughter and some applause went through the group. "We are in your beautiful city of Cascade to perform tomorrow night – but I am here tonight to ask you for help in a little project I am interested in – and that is stopping the killing of seals."

He cleared his throat before continuing. "When I was a small child, growing up in Norway, seal hunting and harvesting was simply part of life, such as your timber harvests are, here. It never occurred to me to question it. Then, one summer I went with my family on a holiday on the coast of Ireland. It was there that I had my first experience with seals...up close and personal, as they say."

Thor paused for a moment, smiling whimsically at the crowd, which was hanging on his every syllable. "There were seals that would come near the shore," he continued at last, "and did not seem to be afraid of a small boy. Not the same seals as live further north, but seals, nonetheless. I decided they must want to be friends, and proceeded to try and play with them, in the only way I knew how. Assuming that if they were seals, they would like to play with rubber balls, I asked my mother to get me some. When she did, I took them down to the water's edge and when a seal ventured near, I would throw a ball to it, hoping that it would do as circus seals do, and bat it back to me!"

More laughter erupted, and Thor joined in, gently ridiculing his younger self. "Of course, not being trained seals, they had absolutely no interest in playing ball with me, although once one did take one of the balls and swim away with it. And my mother wisely refused to buy me any more rubber balls to throw into the sea!

"But from that time on, I had an abiding interest in seals..."

Jim watched the crowd, rather than paying attention to the rock star's words. He was on high alert, keeping his senses dialed as far up as possible without overloading, watching for something – anything – which might signal some sort of attack.

A familiar scent caught his attention, and he jerked his head around sharply. Blending subtly with all the other fragrances, just barely there – gun oil. And somehow, intuitively, Ellison knew it wasn't gun oil from his weapon, or Conner's, or anyone else's from the police security team. There was something else mixed in with it...

Blessing Blair Sandburg's teachings, the Sentinel honed in on the scent, following to the source – and then he did that other trick that Blair had suggested so long ago, and 'piggybacked' sight onto scent, zooming his vision in to focus tightly on his target.

There! A semi-automatic pistol with a silencer attached! He couldn't see the shooter, only the gun and a black-gloved hand and black coat sleeve rising slowly upwards – towards an unsuspecting Kjetil Hakonsen. Jim Ellison flung himself forward desperately.

"SHOOTER! EVERYBODY GET DOWN!"