Return to
Cheyenne's Fanfic
Note:This story originally appeared in The Sentry Post, Vol. 2, available from LHGraphics.
DOWN!
By Debbie Pack
"Mayday! Mayday! This is Nancy, King, Ida, Three, Four, Six. We are experiencing engine trouble. Can anyone here us? Repeat....Mayday! Mayday! This is Nancy, King, Ida, Three, Four, Six. We are experiencing engine trouble. Can anyone here us?"
The engine of the little plane coughed again, this time with a finality and died. The pilot frantically began once more pushing buttons, twisting dials and begging the aircraft to restart. Finally, he shook his head in regret.
"Get your heads down gentlemen, just as I showed you," he called over his shoulder through the doorway separating the cockpit from the passenger section, "We're going down." He flipped a switch on the radio again, as his eyes began searching the mountains below for any available clearing he could find to try and land the plane. "This is Nancy, King, Ida, Three, Four Six. If anyone can hear us. We have engine trouble and are making an attempt to land. Our locations is approximately 100 miles east of Glidden Field...."
Blair Sandburg listened as Mike Ryan continued with the mayday call, giving the longitude and latitude for the benefit of any Search and Rescue team that, hopefully, was listening. Why, oh why had he thought this would be a good idea. It had to be some powerful deity that he had royally pissed off to come up with a revenge this wicked.
He glanced over at Jim to see how the detective was dealing with their current situation and was amazed to see his partner smile reassurance at him. Blair smiled back nervously and turned away, feeling his face redden. Ten minutes ago he had panicked, hyperventilating until Jim coaxed him back to coherency with calming words of encouragement. *It's okay, Chief. Calm down and breathe slow. That's it. Nice and easy.*
He forced himself to take another slow, deep breath, holding down the embarrassment he felt. Unfortunately, he shuddered when he exhaled. He was still scared out of his wits but at least he could take a breath now. He felt Jim reach over and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Blair looked back up and saw Jim nod. The look on his face said a thousand time more than words could at this moment. *We're in it again, Chief. I know it looks bad and it may wind up being bad but no matter what happens, I'm here.* Blair closed his eyes in gratitude. Strangely, he felt better as he prepared himself for the crash landing.
* * * *
Jim couldn't help but admire his partner. Had it not been for Jim's friend they wouldn't have been on the small plane from Spokane.
The trial he'd been subpoenaed to testify at had ended earlier than expected. Jordan Sinclair had been a major drug dealer in the Pacific Northwest and Jim had apprehended him in Cascade. Sinclair's attorney had managed to get a change of venue for his client but it had only succeeded in stalling the inevitable. Jim's testimony had been completed yesterday and the jury had returned a verdict in record time. Sinclair had been convicted. Jim smiled inwardly. It had felt good to put the man away, no matter where the trial had taken place.
If only their luck had continued to hold out, he thought regretfully.
Last night he and Blair had tried to reschedule their flight back to Cascade, a full three days before they had anticipated. They had been put on standby for an 8:00 a.m. flight. Unfortunately, that had fallen through and the best the reservationist had been able to do was to schedule them for standby on the afternoon flight.
With several hours of nothing to do but wait, they had decided to hang around the airport area and grab an early lunch at a nearby restaurant that Blair had seen on their way to the hotel when they had first arrived. But, as they were leaving the air terminal, Jim had been hailed and turned to see an old Army buddy of his waving him down.
They had spent the next twenty minutes catching up on what they were doing in Spokane and what each had been up to since their last meeting. When Jim had mentioned their situation, the buddy, Mike Ryan, had offered them a ride to Cascade on the small plane he was shuttling back within the hour. It was an older plane and definitely not first class but it would be empty except for himself and he would welcome the company. Jim had hesitated knowing the small plane would only intensify Sandburg's fear of heights. He knew larger planes were a trial for the grad student at the best of times, but as long as his partner didn't look out the windows while in flight he usually managed to control his fear. Small planes on the other hand, were a different matter. He had been ready to refuse when Blair had spoken up and agreed to the offered flight home. Jim had turned to him in surprise, his eyes asking if Sandburg was sure he wanted to try. Blair had nodded with the confidence that he could handle the flight and Jim accepted the ride for them.
They had run into a storm half way back and had routed north to skirt the turbulence. Jim had maintained a close monitor on his partner's heart rate and breathing. Despite Blair's reassurances that he could handle the flight, the younger man had been pale and unnaturally silent since leaving the airport in Spokane.
Jim turned his attention back to the view outside his window. He had recognized Glacier Peak in the distance the first time the little plane's engine had coughed. In his mind's eye he formed a map of the area. Glacier Peak was in excess of 10,000 feet. Not as high as Rainier but definitely less accessible from the ground. He shook his head, this was not good. They were still east of the Cascade Range and the Snoqualime National Forest. He had prayed the engine trouble was only momentary and would not be repeated. When it coughed a second time and Mike had begun coaxing the engine at a frantic pace, he had flashed a look at Blair. Jim hadn't thought it possible but his partner's face was even more pale than before, and now his eyes were wide and staring. If they survived this and Blair didn't go catatonic on him, it would be a miracle and a half.
They began preparations for the crash landing as Mike had instructed. Jim watched his partner from the corner of his eye. Blair was moving a little slower than normal and his actions were more clumsy. He was almost paralyzed with fear but Jim was please to see he was at least making an effort. In a relatively short amount of time they were as ready as possible.
Jim checked to make sure Blair had remained in the appropriate crashed position, took a quick glance past the wall separating them from the cockpit, through the forward windows, then braced himself for the inevitable as he heard Mike shout over the protesting scream of stress to the small aircraft. "Hold on, Jim! This is it!"
Jim tensed as he felt the first branches of tall pines hit the underside of the plane and a jarring shook him all the way to the base of his spine. Amid the chaos he could vaguely hear an involuntary cry from beside him as Blair was shaken by the same force. He wanted to reach out a hand to the younger man and offer some small measure of comfort and encouragement but another jolt from the plane hitting more trees knocked his head against the side wall of the craft and he plunged into darkness.
* * * *
Simon looked at his watch once more and softly cursed with impatience. When Jim had called to ask him to pick he and Sandburg up at the smaller Glidden Airpark, he had said they would be in by 11:30 a.m. at the latest. Simon had agreed, glad to have his detective back early. To show his appreciation, he had planned to take Ellison and Sandburg to lunch before his 1:00 meeting with the Commissioner, but it was already 11:55 and still there was no sign of the small plane or Ellison and Sandburg. If they didn't land soon, they would have to wait until dinner. Simon swallowed against a rising knot of fear in his throat, determined to hold on to his impatience. A niggle of worry had worked its way into the back of his mind but he refused to give in to it. If he held on to his impatience, he wouldn't have to give in to fear.
The police captain moved to stand before large plate glass windows that looked out on the landing strip. The smaller airport was not nearly a busy as Cascade International but it seemed to be bustling with activity nonetheless. His eyes scanned the horizon in search of the plane. *Come on Jim. Where are you? Please be okay.*
"Excuse me. Sir?"
Simon turned at the hesitant voice. "Yes?" The knot in his throat grew and developed a twin in his stomach.
"Are you waiting for Mike Ryan's plane from Spokane?"
Simon nodded, "Yes. I am," he extended his hand with apprehension. "Captain Simon Banks."
"Captain?" the man inquired.
"Cascade Police, Major Crimes."
The man looked even more tense, "Oh...ah...Captain. Could you come with me?"
Simon's stomach finally twisted with force. What ever this man was wanting to tell him was not going to be good. He just knew it.
* * * *
The first thing that returned to Jim was a deep sense of exhaustion. Whatever he had been doing to cause it couldn't have been good for the human body. He was vaguely certain of that. It felt odd, not being able to remember where he was or what had caused him to feel so tired.
He cast about in his muddled brain for explanations. He was lying on his back and he could feel his gun pressing into his back where it still rested in the holster at his waistband. There was a heaviness across is legs, something warm. They didn't hurt any more than the rest of his body so he felt reasonably sure they weren't injured. An incredible pounding emanating from his temples and he was certain if he opened his eyes it would only compound the pain. Still, he couldn't remain in the dark forever. He braced himself as he forced open his eyes and blinked his surroundings into focus.
He was lying on the floor, looking out through a gaping hole in the side of....what?...a plane. That's where he was, in a plane. Along with the faint light, memory returned. The trial in Spokane, the quick end to the trial and the unexpected flight home with Mike Ryan. Sandburg's... Oh God! Blair! Jim's heart quickened with concern for his partner, as he forced himself to sit up. Blair had been siting beside him on the plane. His partner had panicked, on the verge of hyperventilation. Only Jim's past experience with Blair's anxiety attacks had enabled him to talk his partner back to a semblance of calm. He looked around the littered interior of the plane.
Where was he now? The seat where Blair had been sitting was empty. A half dozen possibilities crossed his mind, one being that Blair had already gotten himself out of the plane. He didn't think the slighter man wouldn't have been able to maneuver him out of the wreckage while Jim had been in an unconscious state. Possibly, he had left him and had crawled outside in search of help.
Jim stared at the gaping hole that had been sheared into the side of the small plane and felt his heart jump into overdrive. What if Blair had been thrown from the plane before it had come to a stop? His heart beat increased again as he frantically began pulling his legs from the debris with agonizing slowness.
A movement from the warm lump lying across his legs caused him to jump in surprise. A moan greeted his ears as he realized what the mysterious bundle was and began pulling rubbish from atop Blair's body.
"Hang on, Chief. Don't move," he ordered, pulling the last of the rubble off his partner and running sentinel sensitive fingers across Blair's back and neck. He sighed in relief as he found no indications of a break or fracture. He'd worry about legs, arms and the ever popular rib area as soon as he assured himself the young man was breathing properly.
"Jim?" Blair croaked, hoarsely.
"Yeah, Sandburg, I'm here," he said, continuing his examination.
"What happened Jim?"
Satisfied there was no spinal injury, Jim patted his shoulder and helped him to sit up. "I don't know exactly," he said, "Mike didn't say what was causing the problem.
Blair was beginning to move around more, disentangling himself from Jim's legs as concern for the safety of the pilot pushed the bigger man toward the front of the aircraft. Jim poked his head past the wall separating the passenger section from the cockpit. He swallowed hard, feeling nausea well up at the sight that greeted him.
Ryan had managed to bring the plane down to a lower altitude and leveled it out enough to keep them from slamming into the mountainside, but the pilot had been unable to prevent the tree branches from coming through the cockpit windows. A three-inch diameter branch had embedded itself into the pilot's chest. The man was long past caring that his last minute actions had saved his passengers.
Jim felt a movement beside him and reached out a hand, trying to keep Blair from seeing the body. Too late.
"Oh God!"
There was a flurry of activity as the grad student backed from of the cockpit and scrambled to the outside of the plane.
Jim found him twenty feet away huddled beside a tree, clasping his arms around his stomach in an effort to prevent himself from losing his breakfast.
"You okay?" he asked, leaning over to check the matting of blood he saw in the tangle of curls on the side of Blair's head.
Blair nodded slowly, "I'm sorry about that, man. I just wasn't prepared...you know?" He stopped speaking suddenly as sad eyes looked up at Jim. "He was your friend."
Jim nodded, "Yeah, he was and he didn't deserve to die like that," his voice trailed off, "Nobody deserves to die like that." He kneeled beside Blair, turning him slightly to get a better look at the source of the blood, "Turn around here and let me look at your head." Blair winced, despite surprisingly gentle fingers that probed the bloody area. "You took a pretty good hit here, Chief. Are you feeling dizzy at all?"
"Man, are you kidding? I've been dizzy since we took off from Spokane. This doesn't seem a whole lot different."
Jim smiled at the quip then released Blair's head and moved to face him as he held up a finger in front of his face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Blair looked up and squinted with a frown. Jim saw the visible effort it required for him to focus his eyes. "One," he said finally.
It was Jim's turn to frown. It had taken Blair a moment to answer him. Not a good sign with a head injury but there wasn't much he could do about it here. Their first order of business would be to salvage what supplies they could from the plane and set up a camp until Search and Rescue could locate them. He would clean the wound and keep an eye on Blair. In all probability, his partner had a concussion and would bear watching until he could get proper medical treatment, but at least the injuries between the two of them had not been any worse. It was too bad about Mike's. Even though Jim had not seen him in several years it was still a loss and a shame.
"Jim?" Ellison was brought out of his dark thoughts by Blair's soft voice. "Hey man, were you zoning on me?" he asked in genuine concern.
Jim shook his head, "No. Just taking stock, Chief," he stood up, "Wait here. I'll be right back." He turned and made his way back to the plane before Blair could argue with him and returned within a few minutes with the first aid kit.
Blair sat as patiently as was possible for him while Jim cleaned the gash on his head. "You...ouch...you have any idea what happened to the plane?"
Jim shook his head while he continued with his task, "No. Mike had said something about the engine recently being repaired but...."
Blair pulled away from Jim, his face paling and his eyes demanding, "He did what!?"
A grimace crossed Jim's face. "Did I forget to mention that?" he asked innocently, then attempted to cover the statement with a shrug of his shoulders. "He said it had been repaired."
Blair's eyes widened as he felt his blood pressure escalate, "Evidently, not well enough," he said in disbelief, then sighed in exasperation, "Man, I can't believe you. You let us catch a ride with a guy you haven't seen in God knows how many years on a broken down piece of......"
"Will you calm down, Sandburg. It had been fixed." Jim's tone was edging toward impatience.
"You want to tell that to your friend Ryan?"
The moment he said the words, Blair regretted them. It wasn't Jim's fault the plane had crashed. Hell, it probably wasn't even the pilot's fault. He was just taking his nerves out on Jim and he could see by the look on his partner's face that the words had hurt his friend.
"Hey," he said softy with regret, "Jim. I'm sorry, man. I shouldn't have said that. I was out of line."
Jim nodded his head in acceptance. He knew Blair was still feeling the aftereffects of the close brush with death they had experienced and he knew his partner didn't mean the hurtful words. "It's alright, Chief. We're both a little tense right now."
"Still, man, I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Just let me finish here," he said turning Blair's head back to finish cleaning and dressing his wound.
With the exception of Mike's death, they weren't really in that bad of shape. Both of them had escaped with apparently minor injuries. Jim would keep a close watch on Blair for any sign of problems but otherwise, they had been incredibly fortunate, especially in light of their usual run of luck. Jim shook his head as he continued to work. It seemed to him that his partner had a natural ability for seeking out trouble. Jim often wondered if his friend got into as much trouble before he had partnered with him as he had since. He suspected he did, only a different breed of trouble. Blair just seem to be one of those individuals who attracted misfortune.
Jim put the finishing touch on the bandage then turned the younger man back to face him. "Still dizzy?"
"A little, but not much."
"Okay, you rest here," he said patting the anthropologist's shoulder, "I'll be back in a bit."
"Jim. I can help," Blair said, starting to rise.
The detective pushed him back to the ground, "Not yet, Chief." He looked hard into Blair's eyes with meaning, "I can do this alone. You wait here."
Blair's face paled as he realized what Jim was going to do. He nodded quietly, settling against the tree once more and concentrating his efforts on not listening as his friend removed the pilot's body from the plane.
* * * *
Jim finished the gruesome task and returned to the spot he had left Sandburg. He felt his heart jump as he rounded the back edge of the plane. The younger man's head was slumped forward on his chest. Jim hurried to his side, cursing himself for not paying closer attention to his partner's heartbeat. He listened carefully for a moment before placing a hand on the slender shoulder. The beat was strong. Jim breathed a little easier and gently shook him awake.
"How you doing, Sandburg? Still dizzy?" Jim's brow creased with concern. Had he let Blair slip into an unconscious state? It had taken him longer than he had expected to dig down enough with the crude shovel he'd made to bury Mike. He had debated on whether or not to bury the body or simply wrapping it in a tarpaulin until help arrived, but in the end he had decided the burial would be best for everyone concerned. There was no telling how long they could be there before rescued and he didn't want any wild animals to be attracted to the smell of blood, but mostly he didn't want Blair to have to deal with seeing the dead body every time he turned around. The kid was shaky enough, Jim didn't want him obsessing over Mike's death. Jim stared harder into his partner's eyes. He had fallen asleep but had seemed to wake fairly easy.
Blair shook his head, "Not so much now," he said pushing himself to his feet, "You done?"
Jim nodded as he helped him stand. "Yeah." He forced Blair to look at him, "If you start to feel dizzy, sick to your stomach or your head starts to hurting, you let me know. Immediately." he finished with emphasis.
"Hey, man. Dizzy's a natural state for me. I'm operating on home ground here."
Ellison gave him a stern glare. "Sandburg," he growled.
Blair gave him an indulgent smile, "Sure thing, Dad."
Jim felt his stomach muscles ease for the first time since regaining consciousness in the plane. If Blair was able to give him a smart-mouthed reply, he felt better about his condition. "Come on," he said, smiling as he gripped the young man's arm and steered him back to the plane, "let's see what we can salvage. It may be a while before Search and Rescue shows up."
* * * *
After they had managed to salvage everything usable from the passenger area of the plane, both men worked to clear out enough room inside the wreckage to make a fairly comfortable sleeping area. Jim had already checked and found the radio was smashed beyond repair. There was also no hope for the planes engine, but Jim had been reassured there was no danger of an explosion. At least they would have a fairly secure and dry place if they weren't picked up by nightfall.
Jim stood outside the plane and looked at the sky once again. He had kept an eye to the northwest throughout the afternoon as a slightly heavier feeling had crept into the air. There was a front moving in, possibly another storm. It was only a question of time before the temperature began to drop. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised. It was the middle of September and parts of the mountains had already received snow. He glanced at Blair as the anthropologist still rummaged around toward the front of the plane. Jim hoped Search and Rescue arrived soon. Neither he nor Blair were dressed for cold weather.
Jim looked at his watch, amazed it was still functioning. The plane was due to have landed an hour ago. Even if their final mayday calls had gone unheard Search and Rescue would be up by now. It was standard procedure. He was glad he had called Simon to meet them at the smaller airport before leaving Spokane. Even though it would make his captain worry, it was nice to know there would be someone among the team to make the search a little more personal.
He rubbed at his stomach as a growl reminded him that it had been early morning since they had last eaten. When he and Blair had searched the wreckage they had found nothing edible. It looked as if they would get a little hungry before they were found.
Jim stopped and smiled to himself. Then again, maybe not. Blair was always going on about what plants were edible, nutritious or medicinal. He'd get the anthropologist to scout up something edible. A smile made to his face as he anticipated Blair's enthusiasm at that task. He was eternally trying to get Jim to try what he called the more 'natural' foods available. This was a chance for the grad student to show off his knowledge of natural cuisine.
A distant echo drew his attention as he focused his hearing and smiled once more. There was a stream not too far away. Maybe he could add a fish or two to Blair's contribution.
A soft breeze whispered through the upper branches of the pines bringing the first faint traces of a chill. If they weren't found by nightfall, they'd need a fire for warmth. He sighed and turned away to begin gathering wood.
* * * *
Blair sat back on his heels as he continued to search the inside of the plane for any small items they may have missed that could prove useful to them. It was darker inside now since Jim had used parts of the metal from the craft's wing to cover the gaping hole in the side. At least they would have a warm place for the night if they needed it.
He paused a moment and warily eyed the cockpit from beyond the wall. He had purposely avoided looking into the front of the plane, knowing he would still see the traces of blood that had been left behind. He shook himself. Now was not the time to freak out. He had to deal with their current situation. Sure the plane had crashed, but he and Jim were alive. That had to add up to some good karma from somewhere. Didn't it? He'd already let Jim do most of the heavy work, keeping his head conveniently turned away from the wreckage as Jim had dragged the man out of the plane...*alone*... and buried him....*alone*..., then had even managed to clean up most of the blood....*again alone*. Blair had to start pulling his weight. He couldn't let Jim keep carrying the responsibility for their survival by himself. This was a partnership and that meant shared responsibility. Now was a good time to start. He took a deep breath, pushed aside the lightheadedness that threatened to overcome him and crawled through the doorway to the cockpit.
Blair held down the rising nausea he felt as he searched under both seats and what compartments he could find. His search turned up a few items; a flare gun, maps, a hunting knife and a variety of other items that should be helpful until their rescue. He began backing out of the cockpit with his collection when he spotted what looked like a metal thermos lodged up against the underside of the instrument panel. He stretched forward with anticipation. If it was a thermos and Ryan had filled it before they left, it might still have coffee in it. Maybe he and Jim could enjoy at least one cup of hot coffee.
Even stretching as far as he could, his fingertips barely touched the cylinder. He backed up a little and braced his knee against the seat then pushed himself further forward until he was able to wrap his fingers around the narrowed neck and pull.
The thermos came free and rolled toward him, but instead of the sloshing sound he had hoped for, it rattled. Curiously he snatched it up and removed the lid.
Blair's mouth fell open as he emptied the contents into his hand. With his heart pounding he replaced the contents and scrambled out of the plane to find Jim.
"Jim!" he called excitedly, looking around at the empty clearing. After a moment the cop reappeared, a look of concern on his face. "Jim! Look at this!" Blair said, running to meet him, eyes wide with excitement as he reopened the thermos and tipped it up to display a handful of gems for the detective. "Are these what I think they are?" he asked in wonder.
Jim stared at his partner's outstretched hand for a moment. His thoughts darkened as recognition dawn on him, then nodded. "I'd say that's about ten million dollars worth of diamonds," he said shaking his head.
Blair eyes grew impossibly larger. "Whoa!" he grinned at the thought of holding that amount of money in the palm of his hand then paused, looking at Jim with a frown curiously, "How'd you know the amount?"
Jim sighed, "There was a break-in at a diamond exchange in Chicago a couple of weeks ago. Ten million dollars worth of diamonds disappeared," he motioned for Sandburg to place them back into the thermos, "These are probably them."
"Oh, man.," Blair breathed in amazement, "Ten million dollars. Man, can you imagine how much research can be done on that kind of money?"
Jim smiled at his partner. Trust Blair's first thoughts toward the money to be academic. His thoughts darkened and he frowned, staring at the sight of the plane wreckage as a realization struck home with him.
The presence of the diamonds could only mean one thing. Mike Ryan and his shuttle route were being used to smuggle the stolen diamonds out of the country. The diamonds being in the thermos in the cockpit pointed to Mike as being involved in the theft of the gems. Evidently, his old buddy had changed more than Jim had expected.
Jim frowned as he considered the presence of the diamonds. This changed his and Blair's entire situation. There was no doubt that Ryan's cohorts wouldn't linger in Cascade once they realized the diamonds weren't going to show up. They would immediately begin back tracking and if they arrived here before Search and Rescue..... Jim let the thought trail off. The thieves involved in the diamond heist had already proven themselves to be ruthless. He had no doubt they would eliminate anyone else who stood in their way.
"Jim?" Blair asked, the wistful smile from the imagined research money fading from his face, "What's wrong? What is it?"
"Come on, Chief," he said physically turning Blair and ushering him back toward the plane, "We're getting out of here."
Blair stopped and ducked out from under Jim's hands, "Why? What's wrong?" he asked with a frown.
Jim expelled a patient breath, "If you were expecting a plane to land carrying ten million dollars worth of stolen diamonds and it didn't, what would you do?"
Blair's face paled, "I'd go looking for it."
Jim nodded, "And I don't think you'd want any witnesses left behind."
Realization dawned on Blair, "They've already killed for these haven't they?" He stared at the container with a look of revulsion.
Jim clinched his teeth, his eyes fixed on his partner, recalling the report he had read last week. As much as he would have liked to keep the more gruesome aspects of his job from the younger man, sometimes it was impossible. "Three people," he said, "A security guard at the exchange and two employees who happened to be dedicated enough to pick that night to work late."
Blair stared at the thermos he held then shivered as he handed it to Jim, "I think you'd better hang on to these."
Jim took the container as his partner turned away and returned to the plane. He understood the younger man's feelings.
* * * *
Simon leaned over a map of central Washington as the man beside him pointed to a section marked with a huge 'X'.
"They've completed the search of this area." Paul Watkins told him, "Now they'll move here."
The area he indicated was the Snoqualime National Forrest. Simon frowned in concentration. "This is where they lost contact?"
Watkins nodded, "Just east of there. The mayday call was picked up briefly by a ham radio operator. He said they reported being approximately a hundred miles east of the field. Factoring in the possibility they may have been able to get a few more miles out of the plane, we figured they should have gone down in this vicinity. Search and Rescue began at the first call point. Now they'll move here."
Simon studied the area on the map where Watkins was pointing. Ever since the air traffic controller had broken the news to him about the loss of contact with the plane, Simon had held on to the hope that Jim and Blair would come strolling into the airport with some simple excuse about the radio in the plane going out. But as time had dragged by and no word of their whereabout came to him, he had been forced to face reality. "What are their chances if they survived the crash?" he asked.
"You tell me. You know them better than I do."
Simon was thoughtful, "Ellison survived a crash in the jungles of Peru for eighteen months. If he's alive, he'll make it out."
"What about Sandburg?"
Simon smiled, "If Ellison survived, there's no way in hell he'd come out without the kid."
That was something Simon was certain of. There was no way on God's green earth that Jim would come out of those mountains without Sandburg, or...he thought...Sandburg's body.
"Captain Banks," Paul Watkins was solemn-faced. "What if your man Ellison didn't survive but his partner did? Would Sandburg be able to take care of himself until help arrived?"
Simon thought it over carefully. He knew they teased Sandburg unmercifully about his seemingly lack of sense of direction but for all their talk Simon knew the kid had more than a little knowledge and experience in wilderness survival. Plus, Blair had a habit, or some had called it a knack, for getting himself out of difficult or dangerous situations. Regardless of what name was put to it, Sandburg was capable of taking care of himself. He had proved that on numerous occasions. "Yes. He could take care of himself."
They were still studying the map when the door to the operations room opened and a middle-aged man in a dark business suit entered. Watkins looked up at the interruption, a touch of annoyance crossing his face. He didn't recognize the man and resented the stranger's entrance without knocking. Simon on the other hand, didn't recognize the man by name but knew from his demeanor what he was. His stomach tightened one more notch.
"Gentlemen," the man said approaching the table separating them and extending his hand in greeting. "District Chief John Thompson. FBI."
Watkins looked hesitantly from Simon to the agent. "What can I do for you?"
"I apologize for the abrupt entrance but we're a little pushed for time."
"Pushed for time on what?" Simon prompted. Watkins took a small step backwards, content to let the police captain and the FBI agent argue over jurisdiction if they needed to. His responsibility was to the downed plane and its pilot.
Thompson pointed to the map still spread before them. "I understand you have Search and Rescue up already."
Simon felt his stomach begin to churn. If the F.B.I. was interested in the plane carrying Jim and Blair, it could only spell trouble for the pair.
* * * *
"Which way are we going, Jim?" Blair asked a short time later, hefting his backpack to his shoulder.
Ellison looked up from the map he was holding, to the not-to-distant mountain peaks. "If I'm right, that..." he pointed to the south, "should be Glacier Peak."
Blair followed his line of sight, "Okay. What does that mean?"
"It means we have a choice, hotshot. We can either continue west toward Silverton or head back east to the Chelan Lake. It's about the same distance either way."
Blair studied the map from Jim's side, "Not much of a choice, is it?"
Jim shook his head, "Not really," he paused to fold the map down to a smaller size, "but according to the map there should be an old logging road about fifteen miles west of here. If we can hit that, the travel should be fairly easy afterwards."
"Where will it take us?"
Jim ran a finger across the map following the road carefully, "Looks like it will take us by Pugh Mountain. After that we can either stay with the road or cut across country straight into Silverton," he folded the map and stuffed it into his pocket, "What do you say? Are you game to continue west?"
Blair looked toward the west, "Well, if we go west, at least we'll be that much closer to home," he said after careful contemplation.
"Okay. West it is,." Jim looked at Blair's backpack and then to the small shoulder bag they had scrounged from the plane that he carried. They had placed the thermos containing the diamonds in Blair's sturdier backpack. "Are you ready?"
The younger man glanced around their surroundings to the opening of the downed aircraft, then nodded before looking up at his partner with worried eyes, "They're going to know we were here," he stated.
Jim nodded, "Yeah. They will, but we've put down enough false trails leading out of here that it'll take them a while to figure out which way we went. We'll cover our tracks for a good long ways as best we can. It won't stop them but at least it will slow them down, maybe long enough for us to reach help ourselves."
"What about Search and Rescue? It'll throw them off too."
Jim shrugged. "Can't be helped. We'll have a better chance of getting out of this alive if we can slow down or avoid Mike's partners." He surveyed the clearing once more, "We've got a couple more hours of daylight, let's get as far away as we can."
Blair nodded and followed Jim through the trees.
* * * *
Simon watched with a heavy heart as the thick forest of the Snoqualime National Forest passed beneath the helicopter.
Two hours ago they had been notified that the wreckage of the plane had been located. The FBI agent had quickly arranged for transportation to the sight and had surprised Simon with an invitation for him to come along. Simon had not wasted any time in accepting. In his experience, it was unusual enough for the FBI not to block involvement by local authorities in any case they were investigating, let alone invite them along for the ride. Simon knew he would have found a way to the crash site regardless but was thankful the agent has seen fit to include him.
District Chief John Thompson had turned out to be different from the FBI agents Simon had dealt with in the past. The man was obviously good at his work but he was also capable of accomplishing his assigned tasks without alienating the rest of the civilized world.
Before they had left Glidden Field, the man had made apologies to Paul Watkins for his abrupt manner and during the entire time had treated Simon as an equal, not an outsider. That fact alone was unusual in Simon's experience with the FBI. He smiled to himself. He liked the agent and knew Jim would too.
His smile saddened as he watched the forest become more and more dense. He found himself offering up a small prayer for the safety of his two friends, something, he reflected, he found himself doing often in the last year and a half. He shook his head in wonder. What couldn't Ellison and Sandburg get themselves into? Between serial killers, international hitmen, rogue CIA agents and the miscellaneous military intelligence branches that seemed to have cropped up over their association, it was a wonder either of them were still alive to worry about.
Simon's smile faded as he remember there had been no word of survivors from Search and Rescue.
From the moment they had left the small airfield in Cascade, Simon had felt a lead weight settle over him. What would he do if Jim and/or Blair were dead? He shook his head sadly. It just couldn't be. The idea of those two incredible lives being extinguished before their time was not a possibility. He had to hold on to the belief that they were still alive. He had to. He wished he had asked Taggart or Brown to come along; just in case, but knew as he voiced the thought to himself that it hadn't been a possibility. He had been fortunate to receive the invitation in the first place. There was no way he had been willing to risk the chance of getting to the crash site as soon as possible, but now, he was having second thoughts about not bringing one of his own men with him. If they arrived and found only bodies, he didn't know if he'd be able to handle the grief alone.
From the corner of his eye, Simon caught a glimpse of Thompson's face. The man seemed to be lost in thought but every once in a while, Simon would see him rechecking the map he held in his lap against the landmarks they were passing.
He had told Simon that the pilot, Mike Ryan, was in actuality, an F.B.I. agent and that he had been working undercover to establish himself as a goods smuggler with the small puddle jumper service he provided. Two weeks ago, Ryan had been contacted about transferring stolen diamonds to a contact in Cascade. The Bureau was certain the theft had been part of a scheme by Xavier Whittaker, the top man at Excelsior Diamonds, to embezzle the company and plunge it into financial ruin. However, the man was considered above reproach and had enough influential friends in strategically placed political jobs to have the FBI discouraged in the pursuit of that line of investigation. Nevertheless, the Agency had continued covertly and had been rewarded when Ryan had contacted Thompson to tell him of the transfer of the gems. The tricky part had been that they had to catch Whittaker with the diamonds or there would be no case.
Simon had questioned why Ryan had offered Jim and Blair the ride in his plane from Spokane if the man was supposed to be undercover. Thompson told him that Ryan often took passengers on the runs he made between Spokane and Cascade and the exchange of the diamonds was to have taken place at a hotel in Cascade away from the airport. Nothing would have been out of place for him to have two passengers this trip.
Simon hoped the undercover operation could continue as planned, but more than anything else, he hoped Jim and Blair were alive.
* * * *
The afternoon became warm despite the earlier cooling breeze Jim had felt. There was another storm coming, but it would be delayed. He frowned at the thought of the two of them being caught out in a fall storm.
The jackets both men wore had been removed as the heat built during the afternoon hours, and Jim deliberately slowed his longer-legged pace to accommodate Blair's shorter stride. Sandburg was holding his own but Jim knew the thinner air in the higher elevation would rapidly take it's toll on both of their strength and they would need to conserve their energy for the rougher terrain ahead.
He had kept his hearing partially tuned to his partner, monitoring his breathing and heart beat, prepared for anything other than the normal exertion. He still wasn't comfortable with the paleness of Blair's face.
* * * *
They had been traveling several hours by the time Jim noticed fresh blood on the side of his partner's head. He immediately called a halt for them to rest and felt a slight twinge of anger when he discovered that Blair had realized the wound was bleeding again and had simply been wiping the blood away instead of bringing it to Jim's attention.
*"It's not that big a deal and I didn't want to worry you,"* he had said in self-defense.
Jim shook his head and stopped himself from making an angry remark about irresponsible college students. He told himself it shouldn't have surprised him. He knew of Blair's habit of downplaying his own injuries or illnesses. It was one of the reasons Jim felt a constant need to keep an ear turned to his partner. If the stubborn kid wouldn't watch out for himself, then Jim felt it was up to him to do it. He owed Blair the protection.
Sometime during the middle of the afternoon, Jim's enhanced hearing picked up the distant sounds of a helicopter. With the amount of cover provided by the trees, it wasn't hard for them to remain hidden as the copter flew overhead.
Jim had been able to determined it was not Search and Rescue from the markings, but had not been able to glimpse any of the individuals within either. If they were Ryan's partners and they found the crash site, Jim knew it wouldn't take long for them to figure out which direction he and Blair had taken, despite the false trails they had left. They would have to remain ahead of the thieves until they could reach the authorities.
* * * *
Several hours later, Jim picked up the sounds of a second helicopter approaching from the west. Still unwilling to show themselves until they knew who was in the aircraft, they sought shelter in the protection of the dense pine trees.
It wasn't until the helicopter had already passed that Jim was able to focus his enhanced sight on the cockpit of the craft. His heart had skipped a beat as he thought he recognized Simon Banks among those on board. He hadn't been certain it was Simon and they couldn't take the chance it hadn't been, so he had kept the information to himself. Blair was already exhausted. He didn't need false hope to burden him.
Silently, they continued on.
* * * *
It was well past dark before they stopped their travel for the evening. Jim had been aware of Blair's increasing difficulty in keeping up for the past hour. Since dark had settled on the area, the younger man had stumbled repeatedly until Jim had instructed him to hold on to his belt for guidance. Blair had been reluctant at first, saying it would slow them down too much. However, he had relented as his partner reminded him of the advantage of his being able to see in the dark and scout the safest route for them while all Blair had to worry about was keeping up with him. It had worked like a charm for them until Blair had begun to falter from fatigue. Jim took note of an increase in his partner's respiration. He had attributed it to their quick travel but now that they had stopped and he realized how tired he was, he knew Sandburg must have been ready to drop from the exertion of keeping up with Jim. For a moment Jim was undecided whether to be angry or proud of the anthropologist. He knew Blair would continue until he dropped from exhaustion and then would still try to get up and continue. His friend just didn't know the meaning of quit.
Jim let his Sentinel eyesight scan the area surrounding them as he took a mental calculation of how far they had come. He nodded to himself after a moment. They had made good time during the afternoon hours and he felt it would now be safe for them to stop for the remainder of the night.
As they rested, Jim felt the sweat cooling on his body and realized for the first time just how much the temperature had dropped. The light jackets they wore were not going to provide much warmth for them once the sun went down. They needed to find shelter for the night.
He listened as Blair leaned heavily against a tree. He could hear the exhaustion in every breath the younger man drew. After the fear of the crash, dealing with the death of Mike Ryan and the knowledge that they could in all likelihood be pursued by killers, it was no wonder he was ready to drop.
Jim continued his visual search of the area. Even though he didn't expect to find something as convenient as a cabin this far up in the mountains, he hoped they would be able to locate a cave for the night. He listened once more to Blair's rapid heartbeat. They could take it slow until they found a suitable place.
"Come on, Buddy," he said reaching down for his partner's arm to help him to his feet once again. "Not much further."
Sandburg looked around at their location as he accepted Jim's offered assistance. "What's wrong with here, Jim?" he asked, gaining his balance.
"Too open," Jim explained, "We can't chance a fire and the temperature up here is already dropping. We'll freeze. Come on," he coaxed, "I think I see something over that way that will do."
* * * *
Simon watched from the window of the helicopter as they made their landing approach a short distance from the crash site. He'd caught a glimpse of the fuselage as the helicopter had made an initial pass over the area and felt his stomach tighten. Once again, he silently prayed for the survival of his friends.
The helicopter had barely settled before he, Thompson and the rest of the federal agents jumped from the aircraft and made their way toward the two men standing at the edge of the clearing.
A man almost as tall at Simon extended his hand in greeting and spoke above the dying roar of the helicopter's engines. "Chief Thompson?" he asked. Thompson nodded as he continued, all business. "Riker. Spokane office," he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "This is Miller. Search and Rescue."
Thompson shook each hand in acknowledgment then turned to introduce Simon. "Captain Simon Banks Cascade PD. It's his people on board with Ryan."
Riker turned slightly toward Simon, acknowledging him with barely a nod. Simon noted the man displayed the same contemptuous attitude he'd experienced from other FBI agents and wondered if Thompson noticed the slight. He pushed the thought aside as Miller extended his hand in greeting. "Captain."
Simon accepted the gesture and nodded as the group walked toward the crash site. His stomach remained in knots, half fearful of what the men had to tell them.
"What have you got?" Thompson continued.
"So far, one body. Buried in a shallow grave a short distance beyond the site. The medic says it looks like a tree branch penetrated the cockpit window on impact. He probably never saw it coming."
Simon saw Thompson glance his way, "Have you I.D.'d him?"
"Yes," Riker nodded and produced a wallet, opening it up for Thompson to see. "It's Ryan."
Thompson checked the identification before handing it back to Riker with a sad shake of his head, "Where is he?"
"This way."
Riker and Miller lead the rest of the men back toward the crash site and the tarp-wrapped body now lying just within the edge of the clearing. Slowly the cover was pulled back to reveal the grey lifeless face.
Thompson nodded confirmation of the identification then continued to the plane, followed by the rest of the men. "Any sign of the two passengers?" he asked.
Simon was surprised by the cold glance Riker shot him. "No sign yet, other than the tracks out of here."
"What about the diamonds?" Another cold look came his way. "They're missing too."
Simon couldn't help but bristle. He did not like the man's attitude.
They paused as they reached the doorway of the plane, Thompson turning back to Riker. "How well did you search the interior?"
"Preliminary only. I expected you'd want your own men to go over it thoroughly."
Thompson nodded, "Daniels. Take another look. Mike said he was carrying the diamonds in a metal thermos up under the instrument panel." He turned to the rest of the agents, "Walters, the rest of you see if you can assist the search team."
The rest of the agents left as Daniels entered the remains of the aircraft. Thompson turned back to the Spokane agent and the Search and Rescue man. "You said something about tracks?"
Simon saw Riker's eyes on him. "We found tracks leading in all directions." The man once again sent Simon an icy glare. "Looks like someone went to a lot of trouble to deliberately lay down false trails away from the site."
Simon was having a hard time holding down his temper. It was clear by his attitude that Riker believed Ellison and Sandburg had made off with the diamonds.
He was preparing to ask the agent what he was implying when Daniels reappeared in the doorway of the plane.
"Sir?" Thompson ignored the rising antagonism for the moment while he turned back to the young agent, "They're not here."
Simon heard the knowing scoff from Riker and fully expected the federal agent to corner him with a barrage of questions regarding the honesty of his detective team.
Thompson merely shook his head. "Are you sure?"
"Yes sir. I double checked the entire area. It's not here. This is all I found." He held up a single gemstone. Thompson took it from him and placed it in an evidence bag from his pocket as Daniels continued with a hesitant look toward Simon. "I...ah...also found blood stains in the passenger section and Ryan's maps are gone."
Simon's face paled at the news. He had no explanation for the missing men or the missing diamonds but he knew from the circumstantial evidence what the FBI men, especially Riker, must be thinking. He had to admit to himself that if he hadn't known Ellison and Sandburg it would probably have been his suspicion as well. But, he did know the two men and his belief in them remained secure.
"I guess that explains where Ellison and Sandburg are," Riker spoke up from Thompson's side.
Simon turned to the man, his eyes flashing anger, "You're out of line mister and out of your mind," he stated, clinching his teeth to keep from shouting.
"I don't think so, Captain. It's pretty obvious what happened here."
"And what would that be, Agent Riker," Thompson asked, watching the man with barely tolerant eyes.
"Obviously, they found the diamonds after the crash and decided to keep them for themselves. They probably figured it would be weeks or months before the plane was discovered and they would be long gone."
The cold contempt coming from the man made Simon's blood boil. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" he said haughtily. "Ten million dollars is a pretty hard temptation to resist."
"Not to Ellison or Sandburg, it isn't. What you're sugges...."
"That's enough gentlemen." Thompson broke in with a reproachful look to Riker. "Captain Banks. I apologize on behalf of the Bureau for Agent Riker's assumption." The federal chief silenced the agent with a gesture before he could respond. "He has no business making accusations without solid proof."
Despite Thompson's attempts, Riker continued. "I'd think their absence would be pretty good proof."
Thompson sent a glare to the man that could have frozen water. "As I said, without 'solid proof'." He held the outspoke agent's eyes for a moment longer before he burned back to Miller. "How far have your people been able to follow the tracks?"
Miller tried to hide a slight smile but wasn't being very successful. The Spokane agent had been a pain in the ass since he had arrived. The man had attempted to prevent Miller's team from performing their duties in searching for victims from the crash and it had taken a heated radio call from Miller to the Federal Chief before the Riker had allowed the Search and Rescue team access to the site."They've trailed for a quarter mile around the entire area. Whoever laid down those tracks is good and knows what he's doing."
Simon smiled in gratitude at the praise. He knew it had been Ellison's work.
"Can you trail them?"
Miller nodded, "Eventually, but these trails are deliberately misleading. It's going to take a while to sort through and find the correct one."
At that moment one of Thompson's agents reappeared along with another of the Search and Rescue team.
"What have your found Walters?"
"There's another group involved," the man said. Simon and Thompson both stiffened at the news as he continued. "The tracks Search and Rescue have been following have tracks overlaying them. Could be Whittaker and his people."
"Could Whittaker have the diamonds already?" Daniels asked from beside Thompson.
Walters shook his head. "I doubt it. These tracks are too erratic. It looks like whoever it is, is trying to figure it out too." He paused and a slight smile crossed his face. "It's going to be difficult. Who ever left those tracks is good."
Simon felt a strong sense of pride at the seconded compliment. He knew it had to have been Ellison. Sandburg could survive in the wilderness, but Jim was the one with expertise in Covert Ops. "That would be Ellison. He's former Army Ranger."
"Well, the man knows what he's doing." The agent clapped Simon on the back as he returned to join the search team once more.
Despite the confidence he held for his detective, Banks was worried. They had no idea what shape Ellison and Sandburg were in after the crash. What if this Whittaker had already caught up with the two of them. They could both be dead by now.
Thompson stepped to Simon's side. "If Whittaker had the diamonds, he wouldn't have taken the time to track down your people. He's already got his foreign contacts set up. All he'd have to do is get the diamonds to them and disappear. We know he was already planning to do that." Thompson stopped and looked thoughtful for a moment, "Simon. Do you know if Ellison or Sandburg were aware of the diamond theft?"
Banks nodded. "Yes. Ellison was. I gave him the report myself last week."
Thompson spoke to himself aloud, "So if he or Sandburg found the diamonds, he'd figure Ryan was in on the theft and he'd know someone was bound to come looking for their merchandise."
Simon nodded in agreement. "And Ellison's first instinct would be to protect Sandburg and get them as far away as fast as he could. He wouldn't wait around for Ryan's contacts to show up, even if it meant trekking out of the mountains on their own."
Thompson pulled the map he had carried on the helicopter from his pocket and spread it out before them. The light was rapidly fading now but it wasn't quite dark yet. "You know your people. They have a map, ten million dollars worth of diamonds and a pack of killers on their trail. Any speculation on which direction they'd go?"
Simon studied the map before giving the Federal Agent his answer.
"They're about the same distance any direction from available help. If it was me, I'd head west. At least it's that much closer toward Cascade."
Thompson nodded his agreement. "That's what I thought to," he stood and folded the map before putting it away. "Let's grab some coffee. Search and Rescue is having a hard enough time following those tracks of Ellison's tonight. We'll get started with first light." The man paused before speaking again. "Simon. I just thought I'd let you know. I sent Riker back to Spokane."
Simon was once again amazed by the federal agent. "You didn't have to do that John. I know the evidence looked pretty damaging."
Thompson only shook his head. "No. Regardless of the evidence, Riker's attitude was unacceptable. I don't tolerate that type of mentally from my people and I'm certainly not going to accept it from someone else. Unless he can change, I don't have use for him." Thompson smiled, "Besides, the Bureau has a bad reputation in dealing with local law enforcement anyway. I don't need someone like Riker making it that much harder for me."
Simon returned the smile as the federal chief turned and left. Before long his thoughts returned to Ellison and Sandburg. He only hoped he was right and that the two had indeed decided to head west. It would be morning before they could continue the search and if he was wrong, it could mean his friend's lives.
A short time later, Simon Banks rubbed his hands over a weary face and stared into the flames of a campfire as Thompson sat down beside him, offering a cup of steaming coffee.
"Tired?" the federal agent asked.
Simon nodded. He hadn't noticed how tired until he'd sat down a few minutes ago. "More than I realized."
Thompson sipped his own coffee while he too stared into the flames. "So what is the Cascade Police Department doing with an anthropologist on it's Major Crimes staff?" he asked straight-faced.
The question caught Simon by surprise and he choked on a mouthful of coffee. "You don't waste words, do you," he said after regaining his breath.
Thompson smiled without looking at him. "I'm a curious man."
Simon shook his head in wonder, "No kidding."
After a few seconds of silence, Thompson pushed a little more. "Well?"
"You're not going to give this up are you?"
"Nope." He hid a slight grin.
Simon sighed and prepared to justify Sandburg's presence in the Unit with the practiced half-truth once again. Simon was sure the young 'King of Obfuscation' would be proud of him. "He's a Ph.D. candidate doing his dissertation on the sub-culture relationships within the police department and specifically within the high stress unit of Major Crimes. He and Ellison have worked so well together, I assigned them as unofficial partners."
"So he tags along to crime scenes for a dissertation?"
Simon grinned at the thought. Thompson wasn't the first to question Sandburg's presence. "Not exactly. You see, the kid's a genius. He's all the time coming up with obscure facts out of nowhere and they always seem to benefit the investigations." He paused and let a smile cross his face. "At the same time he can also be the most exasperating person I've ever met. But, Ellison's arrest record has certainly been phenomenal since the kid began observing. We've learned to take the good with the bad."
"So why hasn't he gone through the academy."
Simon smiled into the night, "As Sandburg puts it...He won't cut his hair."
Thompson finally turned to look at him, disbelief clearly visible in the flickering light provided by the flames, "You're kidding."
Simon shook his head, "No. Well maybe partly. If it came right down to it, he'd probably go but he's serious about his dissertation and his job at the University. He's content with things the way they are now."
"Maybe he just needs a little persuasion."
Simon turned back to the federal agent. "No John. Don't even think about it. Ellison would be all over you before you could blink."
"Why should he object?" Thompson frowned.
"Because, Ellison sees Sandburg as his responsibility, like a little brother, and he protects him with a fierceness that would put a mother bear to shame. The kid and Jim have shared an apartment ever since Sandburg's place blew up about a year and half ago. Ellison's not too pleased at some of the situations Sandburg gets into but the kid keeps bouncing back in to police investigations anyway. So Ellison protects him as much as he can."
Thompson smile into the firelight once again. "I can't wait to meet this pair.
* * * *
The shelter Jim located had proved to be only a small cave into the side of a rocky outcropping. Situated ten feet up the side of an incline with three-quarters of the entrance circled by rocks along the outer edge, it was made to order for them. The area in front of the opening was well protected from sight and would enable them to have a fire for warmth without worrying that it would be seen in the dark by their pursuers. The cave was small, barely four feet by six feet but at least it would help keep them warm for the night and dry if the rain started.
Jim left Blair to wait at the base while he checked it out and by the time he'd returned to report all clear the younger man had been half asleep.
"Sandburg," he said, bringing Blair back to wakefulness with a gentle shake. "Come on. Let's get up there and settle in. You can sleep in a minute."
Blair nodded without being able to see Jim's face. "Sure, Jim, what ever you say."
Jim smiled at the trust he heard in that voice. It was a heavy responsibility to know Blair was willing to place his life in Jim's hands but when he stopped to think about it, that's what the student had been doing since they had first met.
They reached the top of the embankment without trouble and both dropped flat with exhaustion, backpack and roll still in place.
"You sure this is unoccupied?" Blair's voice came through the darkness as his eyes hesitantly looked around the dim interior.
Jim fumbled with the strap on his pack, releasing it from his shoulders as he answered, "What's wrong? Don't you want to share?" he asked with a half-grin. He heard Blair struggling out of his own backpack.
"I don't mind sharing, man, but I do mind winding up as a midnight snack for Smokey the Bear. That..," he shivered slightly, "is not in my itinerary."
"Well, I don't think you have to worry," he said, his sentinel vision seeing clearly in the dark, "This place is barely big enough for the two of us. You'd know if Smokey was in here," he finished.
"So, can we curl up and sleep now?"
Jim could hear the hope in Blair's voice and longed to give in to their mutual exhaustion, but survival was something that had been ingrained into him during his army days and he shook his head.
"Not just yet." Blair sighed as Jim reached toward the back of the cave and scooped up a handful of the dry leaves and twigs that had gathered in the deeper area. "How good are you at starting a fire without a match?"
In the darkness, Jim could see a smile cross his partner's face as the younger man reached into the pocket of his jeans. "Not nearly as good as I am with a lighter," he said proudly, holding up a disposable lighter.
Jim grinned back, amazed again Sandburg's resourcefulness, "One of these days, you're going to have to tell me why someone who doesn't smoke carries a lighter."
Blair began building a mound of the leaves and sticks, "I was a Boy Scout, man. Haven't you ever heard of always being prepared?"
Jim couldn't help but laugh, "You! A Boy Scout?"
Blair looked up with mock hurt on his face, "Jim. I'm crushed that you would doubt me."
Jim continued to laugh, "I'm sorry, Sandburg, but the thought of you in a uniform, any uniform, is just not....," his voice trailed off as he searched for the proper word.
"Believable?" Blair helped.
Jim nodded, "Yeah. I'm sorry buddy, but that's it. Believable."
Blair sighed, but smiled as the first of the flames began to catch and burn, "It would be kind of far-fetched, wouldn't it? Naomi would have just loved that."
"'Loved' is not what I would have called it."
A fond smile crossed Blair's face as the fire gained strength, "Probably not," he said then look up a Jim from the warming glow, "What now?"
Jim made a move to leave the sheltered area, "You keep that going and I'll be right back." he said beginning to move down the embankment again.
Blair's hand darted out across the small fire for Ellison's arm. "Wait, man. Where're you going?"
"I'm going to collect some wood we can burn. We'll need it."
Blair made an attempt to follow, "I'll help," he said.
Jim stopped him with an hand on his shoulder, "No. You wait here."
"But, Jim......."
"Sandburg," he said in a patient voice, "It's dark, we're in a strange area and we don't need you falling and hitting your head again, besides," he paused with a smile and indicated his eyes. "I have a bit of an advantage over you in the dark." He waited until Sandburg released his grip. "You keep this going and I'll be back in a minute."
Reluctantly Blair agreed and sat back as Jim disappeared into the night.
Before long they had a small but warm fire heating the interior of the cave and a stockpile of wood that should last them well through the night.
The fire they had built inside the cave was moved to the outer edge of their shelter for the night and the small nylon tarp that Jim carried in his pack was placed on the floor to provide a measure of protection from the damp ground. It wasn't the Holiday Inn but it was the best they could do. Neither man had expected to be able to sleep, but the day's events along with a profound weariness won out and exhaustion claimed them in restless slumber.
* * * *
Sunlight filtered into the cave opening the next morning, straight into Jim Ellison's eyes. With one eye clamped shut, he craned his neck toward the offending sunbeam. Sore muscles protested as he began to shift his position on the ground. He stopped short as he became aware of a warmth nestled into his back and realized that sometime during the night Blair had managed to scrunch himself next to Jim, seeking the additional warmth that two bodies generated. Jim carefully edged himself up and away from the still sleeping young man, regretting the loss of the shared heat himself. He didn't remember Sandburg scooting closer but he did remember feeling warmer during the night than he had expected to feel.
Jim reached back to the remainder of their firewood supply and began stoking the embers to life once more as his partner began to stir.
"Morning, Sunshine," he called softly and watched in amusement as Blair groggily sat up and immediately wrapped his arms around himself.
Grumpy blue eyes glared at him as the anthropologist began rubbing his hands up and down his arms for warmth.
"Morning," he answered without enthusiasm. "I suppose coffee is out of the question?"
Jim smiled in mock sadness, "Sorry, honey. I forgot to go shopping yesterday."
Blair gave him a second glare, "You...are not funny at this time of the morning."
Jim gave a short laugh as he stood. "Come on. Let's see what we can do about breakfast."
Blair frowned as he came more awake, "What are you talking about?" he asked rising as Jim reached for the tarp and began to fold it.
"I can hear a stream about a half a mile from here," he paused, stuffing the cover into his pack before putting it in place on his own back, "I don't know about you, but I could use a drink about now."
Blair gave a little jump and grabbed for his backpack, looking completely awake now. "Oh, hey! Wait a minute," he brought out an empty plastic bottle. "I brought this, just in case," he said, handing it to Jim. "We'll be able to bring some with us."
Jim stared at the empty water bottle with a smile. He remembered Blair buying it back in Spokane before they'd gotten on the plane. His partner was always thinking.
* * * *
True to his exceptional hearing, a half mile from where they had spent the night, they found a small stream. In the early morning light Jim could see several trout swimming just below the surface. He smiled wistfully as he watched them at the height of their feeding time. Man, what he wouldn't give for a pole and a few lures.
He began to pat through his pockets in search of something, anything, that could be used as a makeshift hook.
"What are you looking for Jim?"
"Something to use as a hook," he explained to his partner. "I don't suppose you have anything on you? A safety pin or something similar?"
Blair pulled his pack off his back and reached inside. He often carried odd bits of stuff in the trusty pack. After a thorough search, the best he could produce was a paper clip. He held it up to Jim apologetically. "Sorry, man. This is the best I can do."
Jim took the clip and began examining it thoughtfully. An idea formed in his head. Maybe if he... Yeah.... He grinned as he reached for a rock the size of his fist and began working the end of the clip back and forth.
Blair watched, impressed as he realized what Jim was attempting. After a moment, he sat down and removed one of the laces from his shoe. If Jim was up for wilderness survival, he was willing to give it a try. He left Jim working on the makeshift hook and taking the knife they had salvaged from the plane, went to a small grove of deciduous saplings and cut two straight branches, approximately one inch round and almost three feet long.
By the time he returned, Jim had finished with the hook and had managed to secure it through the end of the shoe lace. He held it up, eyeing the creation skeptically. Not exactly standard issue but what the hell. It was worth a shot. Besides, if it didn't work he could always try the old standard of 'tickling the fish out of the water'. He looked toward the flowing water and hoped it didn't come to that. The water looked cold.
A shadow crossed his path and he looked up as Blair handed him one of the poles and sat down with the other.
"What are you doing?" Jim asked, nodding at the branch the young man held in his hands.
Blair began cutting away part of the bark at one end, sharpening it to a point. "I thought I'd give spear fishing a try," he said, grinning up at Jim.
"You expect to catch anything with that?" He tried to suppress a grin.
Blair frowned at him, good-natured, "About as much as you do with a paper clip and a shoe lace."
Jim looked thoughtful for a moment. "Good point," he conceded, turning back to his improvised fishing pole, "Now for some bait." he turned his eyes to Blair expectantly.
"Don't look at me, man. I provided the hook and line. You're on your own for bait."
Jim grinned at his partner once more before going to search the surrounding area for something suitable for bait. Neither of their ideas might work but the fact that they were doing something was a relief. It gave them a sense of control over their situation. They weren't as helpless as they had felt the day before.
Jim was trained in the art of survival and Blair was a survivor by instinct. If it hadn't been for the possibility of killers being after them, they would have no problems getting themselves out of their current situation.
Blair finished his whittling then stood and hefted the spear experimentally. "Well," he announced, more to himself. "It's not a Cree fishing spear but...." His voice trailed off as he approached the edge of the stream to try his luck.
To each of their amazement, before long both men had been responsible for one fish each. It wasn't much and not nearly enough to satisfy their hunger but it was certainly better than nothing.
After finishing their meager meal and a quick laugh about Blair needing his shoelace back, they were ready to continue their journey.
"How far to the logging road?" Blair asked settling his backpack in place. When Jim didn't answer him he turned and found the Sentinel in a familiar stance. Blair knew he was listening to something in the distance. "What is it, Jim?" he asked, automatically placing a hand on his partner's arm to anchor him and prevent a zone-out.
Jim held up his hand for a moment more of silence. Blair knew the routine all too well. Jim would tell him what he was hearing when he'd gotten all the information.
After a few moments he turned his head back toward the west, concentrating in that direction for a moment.
"Jim?"
Ellison shook his head to bring himself out of his concentration. "They've found our trail," he said simply.
Blair's face paled. He knew from the look on Jim's face that it wasn't rescue that had located their sign. "How far?"
"Not close. I can hear them but the terrain they have to travel is going to slow them down. The problem is they know what direction we're taking.," he sighed before continuing, "We'll have to do some hard traveling to keep ahead of them." Jim turned to look at his partner, his eyes first landing on the bandage on Blair's head then searching his partner's face, "Are you up to it?"
The younger man nodded with a grin, feeling comforted by Jim's concern. "I'm fine. I've been hit on the head before, remember?" He flashed another quick smile at his partner before starting along their chosen track.
Jim reached for his pack to hide his concern. "I know," he mumbled beneath his breath. "That's what worries me." Sandburg's numerous blows to the head were one of Jim's main concerns regarding the student's well-being.
Blair stopped and turned back to Jim as a thought crossed his mind. "What was that other about?" he asked, nodding his head toward the direction that had caught Jim's attention the second time.
Jim's frown intensified as watchful eyes scanned the western horizon, "We've got a storm coming in," he stated.
Blair perked up, "How can you tell?" he asked, his voice rising as enthusiasm built.
Jim's face softened at his partner's interest. Blair was ever the scientist. "I can feel the change in barometric pressure," he said, using his fingers to imitate touching the air.
Blair's face broke into a wide grin, "Really? That is 'so' cool."
Jim smiled at his partner's excitement but quickly sobered as they began walking, "Not yet, Chief, but it will be," he murmured. If it got very cold, they could be in for more trouble. Neither man was dressed for an extended stay out doors in cold weather. Jim knew he could adjust to it with the help of Sandburg and his imaginary dials. Too cold? Turn down the sensitivity dial, but Blair didn't have that advantage and he was more susceptible to the cold than Jim. "Come on. Let's go." Jim turned Blair around and ushered him ahead of him. They'd have to make sure they didn't waste time now that they knew they had people on their trail.
* * * *
Hours later they were still going. Jim knew they were still traveling uphill but the rate of incline had slacked off during the past half hour. He paused to catch his breath, hearing Blair stop as well and drop to the ground against the same tree Jim was using for support.
"You okay, Chief?" the detective asked as his eyes scanned the area ahead of them.
Blair was breathing heavy. "Oh yeah," he panted, "I'll make it."
Jim smiled as he turned his hearing behind them. He had been attempting to keep track of the people behind them since he and Blair had started out that morning. At times he'd catch the faint echo of voices but could tell they were still too far away for even his sensitive ears to hear clearly. That was good. It meant he and Blair were doing a good job of keeping ahead of their pursuers. If they could maintain the lead they had on them, there was a very good chance they could reach the authorities before the thieves could catch up with them.
Jim's eyes flicked to the skies. He thought about the first helicopter they had seen pass overhead yesterday. It had to have been Ryan's contacts from Cascade, but as of yet, there had been no indications that they were using the chopper for the search. Whether they were having mechanical problems or the density of the forest was hindering them, it didn't matter to Jim. He was grateful for the break and meant to take full advantage of it.
"Why do you suppose we haven't heard the helicopter?" Blair asked from beside him.
Jim gave a start. Sometimes it was spooky the way Sandburg could almost read his mind. "I don't know. Let's just be glad they're not."
He looked down at his partner. Jim had been setting the pace for them that day and despite the thinner air, lack of food and the stress and strain from the previous day, he was please to see Blair keeping up with him without complaint. Of course that in itself was not necessarily a good thing with Sandburg.
Blair's reluctance to speak up yesterday about the continued bleeding of his injury and Jim's past experience with him made it clear to the Sentinel that the younger man would keep going without complaint until he dropped from exhaustion.
A small frown crossed his face as Jim brought his hearing back to a more normal level. He could hear Blair's heart pounding in his chest and he had noticed him stumbling a few times during the morning. Blair hadn't shown any signs of concussion yesterday, but Jim couldn't help but worry. Concern and protectiveness toward the younger man had become as natural to him as breathing.
He reached into the backpack Blair wore and withdrew the bottle of water they had filled at the stream that morning. They had been fortunate to cross several streams during the day, making water plentiful, however, none of the small streams had been large enough to offer the opportunity for fishing and now both men were once more ravenous. .
"Here," Jim said as he handed the bottle to his partner and sat beside him. It wouldn't hurt for them to rest a few extra minutes.
Blair took the bottle without protest. "I don't suppose you hear anything big enough nearby to have fish in it, do you?" he asked then grinned wearily, "A Red Lobster or a Long John Silver's maybe?"
Jim looked down at him in concern until he saw the gleam in Blair's eye. He smiled in return, "Nope. Not even a Wonder Burger," he said, closing his eyes to rest for a moment.
"Just our luck."
Jim didn't have to see Blair's eyes closing also, he could tell from the sound in his voice the young man was drifting to sleep even as he spoke.
Jim felt the pull of drowsiness flow over him; warm and enticing. He shook himself awake and reached out a hand to do the same for Blair. They couldn't afford to give up any ground to the people following them.
"Come on, Sandburg. Let's go," he said, pulling Blair to his feet.
"Can't we rest a while."
Jim heard the weariness in his partner's voice and debated for a moment the danger involved in extending their rest. They had a descent head start on the men after the diamonds and Jim was reluctant to lose that advantage. Also, he could feel the atmospheric pressure changing and knew a storm wasn't very far off. They needed to make it to the logging road before dark and he wasn't sure how far away it still remained. With regret he gave Blair's arm another tug to start him moving with him. "We'll rest tonight. Now come on. We've got to go."
Reluctantly, Blair followed him.
* * * *
As they continued on into the afternoon, Jim could feel the storm's approach and he could also hear the men following them with more and more clarity. Jim's heart beat increased at the thought of the thieves catching up to them. Had they gained that much ground on he and Sandburg? He stopped suddenly and felt Blair stumble into him.
"Ow. Sorry, man," the younger man apologized.
Jim instinctively caught him by the shoulders to keep him from falling and motioned him to silence.
*Whittaker...telling you...can't...up...directi...trav...*Jim shook his head in frustration and tried to focus harder. *catch up...have to...soon*
The voices were very faint and no amount of coaxing would make them clearer. Still, Jim strained to catch the last of the fading voices until he felt himself being shaken.
With a great effort he brought himself back to the hear and now. He shook his head and forced himself to listen to the panic building in Blair's voice.
"Jim. Come on, man. Jim!"
The Sentinel drew a breath into his oxygen starved lungs and felt Blair, his hands gripping his arms, take a deep breath as well.
"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to that," Blair said, exhaling in relief as Jim came out of the zone-out. "What did you hear?"
Jim continued to watch the area behind them, "Voices," he said absently, "One of their names is Whittaker."
Blair's face paled, "Are they that close?"
Jim shook his head, "I can't tell. I'm getting an echo that keeps bouncing around these mountains. It's hard to even tell what direction it's coming from."
Blair nervously scanned the area surrounding them, wondering if the men were close enough to see them yet? Could he and Jim.....
A group of vaguely familiar bushes caught his eye and distracted his train of thought. After making sure his partner was safely breathing again, Blair stepped away from the bigger man's side.
Jim remained rooted in place, staring toward the landscape behind them. He was still concerned that the men seemed to have drastically closed the distance between them. A closer study of the lay of the land alleviated his fears and brought him a sliver of hope. It was very possible that his hearing improvement had been caused by echos created by the numerous hills and valleys he and Blair had been traversing.
"Hey. Jim. Look at this."
Jim turned his attention back to his partner. Blair stood beside a cluster of bushes, deftly picking at the berries that still clung to inside branches.
"What'd you find?" he asked, joining him.
Blair looked up at him with a grin on his face. He popped another of the berries into his mouth as he held his hand up, offering Jim the ones he held.
"Blackberries," he said, smacking his lips.
Jim smiled at his childlike eagerness. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Look. There's a whole bunch of them inside here." He stuck his arm into the bush again, "You just have to...ouch....be careful pickin'em."
Jim took the handful that Blair offered him. It had been a long time since he had eaten fresh blackberries.
"The last of this years berries," Blair announced as he continued to plunge his arm into the depths of the bushes.
They spent the next half hour picking and eating. By the time they were finished, both were stuffed.
"Oh man. I don't know if it was because we were hungry or if those were exceptional, but I don't remember blackberries ever tasting that good."
They were leaning against a tree, taking advantage of their good fortune and resting while the opportunity presented itself.
Jim stretched his legs out and leaned back against a tree as he rubbed at his stomach in satisfaction. "I used to love visiting my grandmother when the berries were ripe," he said. "She made the best cobbler...," his voice trailed off as he recalled the fond memory.
Blair smiled from beside him where he lay, his eyes closed in remembrance, "I know what you mean. I met this Native American woman in New Mexico about five years ago. She made the most incredible blackberry cobbler."
Jim heard Blair sigh as he settled into a relaxing recline and knew they had to get up and move pretty quick. It was too much of a temptation to fall asleep with full stomachs and they couldn't afford to lose any more ground to Whittaker and his people.
Regretfully, Jim pushed himself to his feet, "Come on, Junior. Let's get this show on the road again." He offered a hand up to Blair and they began walking once more.
After a few steps, Blair halted and turned to face his partner. "Jim," he said, "If at any time in the near future, I say anything, anything at all, about wanting to go camping or hiking, do me a favor and shoot me. Okay?"
Jim smiled as Blair turned away without waiting for an answer and began walking again. "You got it, Chief."
They continued and within another mile they reached the logging road.
"This is it?" Blair asked, turning his head to look both directions of the barely distinguishable roadway. Time and disuse had not been kind. The dirt road was deeply rutted in the spots the forest had not yet reclaimed.
Jim was eyeing it dubiously also. "It must be. The map didn't show any other roads in this area."
"This doesn't look like it's been used in years. Maybe decades."
Jim shrugged. "It probably hasn't. I think logging's been restricted in this area for thirty years or more," He sighed before continuing, "Well, at least it should be easier travel now. Let's go."
Jim began walking once more only to stop suddenly and turn his ear toward the north.
Blair barely avoided another collision with the sentinel, managing at the last moment to stop himself before walking into his friend again. "What is it, Jim?" he asked.
"The wind," Jim commented as he stared into the surrounding tree tops.
At that moment a gust of wind blew through the overhead branches, bending the tall pines until they creaked and groaned under the strain.
"It's here." Jim announced.
"What's here?" Blair's eyes widened.
"The front. Feel it?"
As if in answer to Jim's question, the temperature of the wind cooled by enough degrees that they didn't need sentinel senses to feel the drop.
"Oh, man," Blair grinned. "That feels good."
He turned his face into the wind and closed his eyes in appreciation as the heat from the day and the sweat from his body evaporated.
Jim shot his partner a look of concern. Evidently Sandburg didn't realized the danger the weather was tossing in their path. Jim had previous experience with mountain storms. They hit quick and hard, and at this time of the year one could change from a violent thunderstorm, complete with lightening and torrential rain, to snow and freezing temperatures within a matter of an hour or less. He'd been caught unprepared in one once before and had nearly paid with his life. He had no intentions of doing so again.
He began moving down the roadway, pulling Blair in tow, "Come on," he said above the rising wind, "We've got to find shelter."
* * * *
The overhead sky had darkened to a premature twilight. The wind continued to increase as they walked but the temperature seemed to have leveled off, at least for the time being.
Jim cringed as the first flash of lightening was immediately followed by a tremendous crack of thunder, grateful he had remembered to turn his sense of hearing back to normal. He didn't need the headache that would have resulted if he had been in sentinel mode.
"Whoa! That was loud," Blair remarked as he involuntarily ducked his head and moved closer to his partner.
Jim's worried eyes turned toward the northwestern sky. Even through the dimming light he could see the dark thunderheads boiling into themselves. He had hoped they would reach some type of shelter before the storm broke but that possibility was rapidly diminishing.
"Mountain storms, Chief. They hit quick and hard," he explained. The sentinel took a chance on using his enhanced eyesight between lightening flashes to scan the area for a possible shelter. But not wanting to chance the temporary blindness he knew would follow if the lightening caught him unprepared, he didn't test fate for long and was unable to locate a quick shelter for them.
Lightening flashed again as Jim nodded his head down the road they were traveling. "Come on, Sandburg. We've got to find someplace out of this storm," he said urging Blair to move forward as he followed.
The wind continued to increase and the lightening and thunder pounded a relentless rhythm. Rain began shortly afterwards and within minutes, he and Blair were soaked and shivering.
Jim winced as the lightening flashed with increasing frequency. Even keeping his eyesight at normal levels, its strobing effects were making it difficult to continue.
Between the claps of thunder and the roaring of the wind, he caught the sounds of his partner's struggle to keep up with him. The exertion was causing Sandburg's breath to come in ragged gasps.
Jim slowed his pace, dropping back slightly to Blair's side and finally putting a hand on his partner's arm to help him along and to prevent them from becoming separated.
The wind howled around them, slowing their progress and making them fight for every step. Through their physical link, Jim could feel Blair's strength ebbing as they both stumbled through the darkening night.
The storm's intensity was frightening as it continued to build. Jim could feel his own heart pounding as the lightening flashed in time to the thunder. They weren't going to be able to continue much further, the storm was too violent and he and Blair were exhausted. Even now he could feel his partner slipping on the rain-soaked ground, unable to maintain his footing. Jim adjusted his hold on the younger man's arm, unconsciously tightening his grip as he searched for a place for them to hold up until the storm was over.
Jim had decided they were going to have to take their chances among a cluster of boulders to one side of the road when a series of prolonged lightening flashes revealed an apparition to him.
Ghostly structures loomed up to their right less than fifty feet away. At first Jim thought he had imagined them, his exhaustion and the lightening combining to confuse his already overworked senses. But another flash revealed the structures again and this time he felt Blair tense as he sighted them also.
"Jim?" his partner called, his voice barely heard above the noise level of the storm.
"I see'em, Chief." They were having to shout to be heard now.
Lightening began flashing nonstop as thunder pounded in a continually roar. Jim didn't think it would have been possible, but the storm was increasing in fury. Both men involuntarily ducked as lightening struck nearby. Jim couldn't tell where it had hit, but knew they had to get in out of the violent weather. He took a firmer hold of Blair's arm and pull the exhausted anthropologist into a run for the safety of the nearest building.
They reached the door of a huge barn-like structure only to find it padlock against trespassers.
Fatigue and concern for their well-being brought Jim's anger to a boiling point as he slammed his fist against the door in frustration. *What else could possibly go wrong for them?* He hit the door again and this time felt the flimsy wood shudder. His heart quickened as he realized that it wouldn't take much to break through the rotting boards, but then in the same breath, wondered if the building was going to offer much protection if the rest of it was as weak as the door. He quickly shook his head and told himself that any shelter was better than what they were experiencing now.
He placed his shoulder against the door preparing to shove and felt the warmth of Blair's body next to him as the younger man added his strength to the effort. A quick look showed Jim his partner was determined to help despite his near total exhaustion. He flashed a smile and nodded.
Together they pushed and felt the wood around the locked hasp splinter and give way under the rough treatment of their combined weights.
They stumbled forward, collapsing inside the doorway as the wind roared around them. Bits of leaves and debris followed them in, to be plastered to their faces as Jim ushered Blair further inside and turned to push the door closed behind them. He reached for a stray length of two-by-four lying nearby and used it to prop at an angle against the door, effectively closing it.
With a heavy sigh, Jim leaned his back against the wall, still feeling the wind and small amounts of rain come through gaps in the rotting structure.
The noise level was barely diminished and in the brief respite Jim let his eyes wander around the inside of the barn-like building. His stomach clinched in apprehension. This did not look good at all.
To the back of the building, Jim could see the surrounding tree growth beyond the dilapidated structure when lightening flashed. One portion of the far wall had already collapsed. Brush growing up through the tangle of timbers indicated the fall-in had occurred a number of years ago but Jim still had an odd, uneasy feeling. Maybe he'd been wrong about this being better shelter than nothing. He shivered as thunder vibrated the walls once more. Their meager shelter would have to suffice for now. But Jim knew as soon as the storm let up a little, he would have to search the other buildings and find one that was more secure for the remainder of the night.
His tired eyes sought out his partner in the darkness. Blair didn't seem to have moved since they had fallen through the door. He was still, much too still. Jim's heart raced as he scrambled over to the younger man.
"Sandburg! Chief? Can you hear me?"
Blair slowly turned over as Jim's hands assisted him. "Yeah, man," he breathed, his eyes still wide with shock, "That was just....way...too intense." He looked up at Jim, his face solemn and serious, "I don't like storms."
Jim tried his best not to laugh at the look on Sandburg's face, but the simplicity of the statement he had just made and the look of total terror Jim had seen as they had run for the shelter of the building were too much. "Is this a new revelation?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Blair pushed himself up and began brushing away what leaves he could from his jacket.
"Yeah. Something that just occurred to me," he paused, listening to the roar of the wind and his voice took on a sad note. "You know, I was in Texas once, years ago, with a group of friends. We had stopped at an overnight camping area and this storm came up during the night," he paused and swallowed hard, " It was thundering and lightening and the wind was blowing. It sounded a lot like this, almost as intense."
Jim could tell from his voice, the memory was unpleasant for his friend. "But it didn't last forever, did it?"
Blair's eyes closed as he shuddered. His voice was shaky and distant as he continued, "No. It didn't last forever, but the next morning we found out a tornado had struck just down the road from where we were camped," he raised mournful eyes to Jim, "Three people were killed...an old woman and her two grandkids."
Jim didn't know what to say. Blair always seemed to take things too much to heart. He felt other people's pain deeply. Jim worried that he felt the pain sometimes too deeply.
After a few moments of silence between them, Blair shook himself out of the memory. "What is this place?," he asked.
Jim shook his head, also looking around.
"I'm not certain but it looks like an abandoned saw mill."
"Really?"
"Yeah. During one of the lightening flashes, I caught a glimpse of one of those incinerators they use to burn scrap wood."
"So what do we do now?"
Jim cocked his head to listen as the wind increased again, rattling the door as if trying to gain entrance. "We'd better see about getting comfortable for the night. I don't have any idea how long this is going to keep up."
"What about Whittaker?"
Jim looked thoughtful for a moment then grinned. "This storm will slow them down too and with any luck, they won't have found anyplace to cozy up in..." His voice trailed off as his eyes began searching what was left of the ceiling above them.
The wind had ceased abruptly as if it were taking a deep breath and gathering strength for another onslaught, but in the overwhelming silence, Jim was able to hear the creaks and groans issuing from the rafters above them. He listened a moment longer, stretching his sentinel ability just the slightest, fearful an unexpected clap of thunder would deafen him if he were caught unprepared.
The second he took was enough. He could definitely hear the boards that made up the roof as they strained under years of neglect.
The wind picked up with renewed force and Jim's face paled as he heard the first of the timbers give way. The ancient instinct of a sentinel to protect his partner kicked in and before he was aware he was actually on his feet, Jim had launched himself at Blair, knocking the smaller man to the ground and trying in vane to cover him from the falling boards.
He felt the first of the heavy timbers shake the floor as they hit and felt Blair jerk out of his grasp. Before he could react, an incredible pain flared up his left leg, shooting spikes of agony throughout his entire body. He heard Blair cry out and tried to turn to search for him as the roof collapsed in on them.
The fiery pain of his leg continued to build as the last of the timbers settled. Dust and mold, dislodged from the decaying wood floated down and mixed with the small amount of rain that was coming through the gaping hole left in the roof. Jim fought down the hurt and turned a wary eye toward the roof, curious whether or not anything was left to fall. A black fog floated into his sight from the edges of his vision. Holding his breath against the pain in his leg he saw a good portion of the roof remained and tried to gauge its stability. The rest looked fairly sturdy but he knew they couldn't take the chance more of the structure would not fall.
He spotted Blair's still form nearby and pulled himself forward. The younger man had not moved since he had cried out. Jim reached for the first of the timbers that lay across him.
"San...Sandburg," he called, surprised at his own weak voice. "Sandburg!...*cough...cough*... Blair!"
Jim fought against his fading vision, desperate to reach his partner. "Come on, buddy. I need you to help me...out...here. Chief?...."
The dark fog that had been hovering on the edges of his vision closed in. Jim felt himself collapse to the floor, unable to move. From a great distance he heard the storm continue in its fury but he no longer cared. He had lost all interest in it.
* * * *
Simon watched through the mini-blind as lightening flash off in the distance. The storm front the weather service had been predicting for the past few days had arrived in full force..
"Come on, Simon. Staring out that window isn't going to help your friends. There's nothing we can do until this thing dies down."
He released the blind but didn't move from the window. Thunder continued to rumble and slowly roll away in the distance. The storm was centered in the mountains. Simon shook his head regretfully. With Ellison and Sandburg's luck, it was probably right over the top of the two.
"I know. But it doesn't make me any less anxious about them. I wish we'd made better time today. We might have found them by now," he said regretfully.
Agent John Thompson lowered his head slightly, feeling a large amount of guilt for their wasted time. "I understand and I'm sorry but it couldn't be helped."
Simon heard the note of regret in the federal agent's voice. "I know you did your best, John. I'm not blaming you for that. It's just that....." He shook his head and sat on the edge of one of the two double beds in the room.
"What?"
"It's just.....that if something can go wrong with a situation and either Ellison or Sandburg are within five miles, it will go wrong."
Thompson smiled slightly, "Attract trouble do they?"
Simon grinned in return, "You might say that. I used to think it was all Sandburg's fault. I swear that kid is the biggest 'trouble magnet' I have ever met in my life, but Jim seems to keep getting into just as much trouble lately. I think the kid is rubbing off on him."
Thompson grinned as Simon looked up at him. "From what you've told me about them, they are quite a pair."
"They are for a fact." Simon turned for one more glance out the window before releasing the blind for the final time.
That morning they had been ready to begin their search for Ellison and Sandburg. The plan had been to utilize the helicopter and fly a grid search pattern along the area they knew Jim and Blair were taking. They had not seen or heard another helicopter in the area but had already found tracks indicating Whittaker and his people were on foot.
After a quick call to Spokane by Thompson to alert their personnel at the airport to be on the lookout for Whittaker's chopper, one of the agents had confirmed it had arrived at the airfield late the previous afternoon for refueling and was being detained until further notice by the Cascade agent. Simon had breathed a sigh of relief. Something had finally started going right for them.
He shook his head with regret. He should have know better.
While they had been breaking down the overnight camp, the pilot had been going over his pre-flight maintenance check and had discovered an oil leak in the helicopter. They had called for a backup chopper and been informed that the closest one was over two hours away.
The delay was unavoidable and inconvenient for them, but it could be deadly for Jim and Blair. With the delay, Simon knew the chance of them catching up with the two men before their pursuers was slim. Ten million dollars worth of diamonds would be enough of an incentive to keep Whittaker from giving up the search with or without his helicopter and by now the man had to know the FBI was on to his plans. His only choice now would be to give up or continue his quest for the missing diamonds and eliminate any witnesses before making himself scare.
Simon shuddered at that thought. He knew three people had been killed during the robbery and he didn't think Whittaker would worry about two more lives being added to that count.
While they had chafed under the forced wait, Thompson had pulled out the map of the area and began studying it once again. After a few moments he had stared intently then called Simon over and pointed out an old logging road he had discovered on the map that originated from a small community at the base of mountains. They had traced its path and the path Jim and Blair were apparently on and concluded the two would head for the road.
With no guarantee that the FBI could catch up with Ellison and Sandburg before Whittaker, the decision was made to fly on to the small town, named Silverton, as soon as the backup chopper arrived. They would then take the logging road up into the mountains and try to intercept the two, lending support if they needed it. It was a longshot but it gave Jim and Blair better odds than the federal agents trailing along behind Whittaker or taking the chance of missing them from the air.
Unfortunately, there had been several delays during the day and they had not arrived in Silverton until just before dark. The storm front had moved in, dropping temperatures and firing off thunderstorms with brilliant lightening displays.
Now Simon was straining at his inability to help his friends, but he was glad Chief Thompson was with him. He didn't know what it was about the FBI agent but the man was incredibly easy to talk to. He had proven to be a good listener and Simon found himself telling Thompson about the unlikely pair and their exploits, always careful to leave out Sandburg's real reason for becoming an observer with the police department. He also found himself confiding his fears about his friends to the federal agent.
Simon heard the map being spread out and once again thanked whatever fates had sent John Thompson to head up the investigation that now concerned his friends.
Unlike the majority of federal agents Simon had dealt with in the past, Thompson had gone out of his way to include the Cascade Police Department. He had treated Simon as an equal, not an underling and had also taken into account his personal involvement in the situation.
When they had arrived in the tiny resort town, most of the rooms had already been booked by travelers waiting out the impending storm. The FBI had secured the last of the rooms in one of the nicer motels and set up a headquarters. Simon had been pleasantly shocked when Thompson **had offered the second double bed in his room to him so they could finalize their plans, instead of one of his fellow agents. Simon had eagerly accepted.
"So. What do you think?" he asked, nodding his head to indicate the map.
"I think...if your people are as intelligent and self-sufficient as you've told me they are, they'll have found someplace to wait out this storm and with any luck they'll have reached that abandoned sawmill."
"Can we rely on that information you got?"
Thompson nodded. "I think so. Sam Tucker's lived up here most of his life. He knows the area pretty well. We've used him for information before and it's always been reliable in the past."
"Did he give any indication as to what was still standing up there?"
"No. Unfortunately, no one's been up there in years. Sam said the operations shut down almost fifty years ago and the place had just been left to sit. The last time he was there was maybe fifteen....twenty years ago. There's no telling. But, whatever is left has got to beat being in the open."
Simon stared at the area on the map surrounding the sawmill. "I hope so. I'd hate to be the ones stuck out in the open in that storm."
Thompson began folding the map. "You're a good friend, Simon. I hope Ellison and Sandburg appreciate you."
Simon snorted but grinned, "The only thing Sandburg appreciates is when I'm not chewing his ass out," his voice soften slightly. He couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that kept eating at him. "I hope they're alright."
Thompson walked by and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm sure they are. Come on. Let's get a little sleep. We should be able to move out in a couple of hours."
* * * *
Continue on to Part Two....
|
Return to |
|