Thanks to Cee for editing.
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"Well?" Mancini demanded impatiently.
Meg stretched as she withdrew her focus from the basement room. She glanced at Mancini, wondering for the first time who the cargo actually was. She'd felt odd listening to them; their heartbeats sounded muffled, just like Mancini's did when he took the drugs. "They were talking a lot." She rubbed her head to stall for time. She was confused, and she now felt pulled to the basement room. "They're just wondering about what happened,” Meg commented, "One of them is wounded; they're worried about him."
"What about the others?"
Meg didn't react when Mancini didn't comment about the injured man. It wasn't her place. "They're cold. I can hear their teeth chattering." Meg paused and then pointed out; "It'll get colder down there once the storm hits properly." She tried to banish the memories of a cold, silent and dark place where her skin itched and the smells threatened to overwhelm her. She clenched her fists to keep herself from shaking. 'Not going to happen to anyone else, not anyone else.'
"Well, it’s a good job that I let you have some medic training isn't it?" commented Mancini. He yawned and stretched. "Tell Frank to give them blankets and water and keep monitoring the vitals of the injured man. I need to sleep for a couple of hours, wake me then. Some of your bean soup would be a nice meal for tonight."
Meg bent down and took Mancini's shoes off and laid a blanket over him as he drifted off to sleep. She watched him for a few minutes as his face and body relaxed. It was a rare moment for her to see her guide like she was sure he was meant to be, with his defences down and nothing to prove to his family. She laid her head on his shoulder for a moment and smiled when she heard the little sleepy sigh of contentment escape from him. She found her hearing extending, despite her efforts to control it. The man that was injured was moaning in pain again. Then just as abruptly, her efforts to regain control were rewarded and the man's moans were cut off. Mancini shifted in his sleep, and fearful of disturbing him, Meg backed away. She stood up and quietly exited the room. The prisoners needed those blankets.
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Jim jumped from the truck before it had come to a complete stop. He put his head down and moved as rapidly as he could through the driving wind and rain towards the crime scene. He felt, rather than heard, the presence of Edwards at his shoulder. His deputy hadn't left his side since he'd met Jim at Cascade Airport with the bad news that Jim expected; the bus with Blair on it was late. He heard David, Niven, Simon, George Smith, Lisa, and her guide Karl climbing out of the trucks that the GDP had supplied. Treading carefully on the slick tarmac, Jim slipped under the perimeter tape and surveyed the scene.
The bodies were the first thing he noticed. Jim grimaced as he counted at least six bodies. They'd all been covered with tarpaulins, weighted down with stones. The wreckage of the bus and the accompanying vehicles bore silent witness to the scene of carnage. 'Someone will have to pay.'
Curtis's voice interrupted his thoughts, "When will the coroner be here, Captain?"
Jim flinched, not so much at the loudness of the voice, but more at the easy going tone with which she spoke to Simon. She treated Simon like an equal. Jim knew that Simon hated that. His respect was earned, not taken. Jim looked in their direction; at least Curtis had been on the scene since the GDP were first alerted. He took a little satisfaction in seeing the GDP officer looking cold, wet, and tired. Jim tuned out the gruff reply as he headed straight for the tented area that was ringed with GDP guards, all standing as straight as they could against the rain. Jim halted momentarily before he strode into the tent. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a pair of gloves and put them on. It was a crime scene after all. Once he'd taken a deep breath to calm and center himself, Jim entered the tent. The body was covered with a tarpaulin, and the coroner and his assistant, no, guide were next to it.
The coroner shifted a little so he was between Jim and his guide, and then he acknowledged Jim, "Prime."
Jim hunkered down halfway between the entrance and the body. Reluctant to play Clan and GDP politics and to keep him from thinking about Blair, he endeavoured to switch to detective mode. "Tell me what you’ve got."
The coroner eyed Jim and then nodded. He lifted one corner of the tarp to show Jim the body. After Jim had nodded to indicate that he'd seen all that he needed to see, the coroner gently placed the tarp back down again. "Cause of death was a gunshot to the head as far as I can tell in these conditions." The tent was buffeted by a strong gust of wind just at that moment. "It wasn't quite point blank but near enough."
Jim nodded, even Sentinels had trouble in weather like this. "Time of death?"
The answer was unequivocal, "'Bout ten minutes before five. There were a couple of other interesting things."
Jim put his head to one side as he heard voices outside the door. He frowned, "Anything I need to know now? Sentinel Smith is outside."
The coroner nodded. "There's a needle mark on his arm. I’m not sure what was injected," He sniffed, "The smell's gone now but it reminded me of dampeners. I'll have a full report on your desk about four hours after we get back to Cascade."
Jim stood up, "Thank you. Will you be moving him soon?"
The coroner nodded, "Yes. As soon as his ... as soon as Sentinel Smith has seen him, we'll be going. We've swept the area as best we can. How long do you think this storm will last?"
Jim shrugged, "Weather people say it will end tomorrow, but they only predicted a storm that was three notches lower than it is already. My guess is another couple of days after that."
The coroner frowned, "Damn."
Jim asked, "Did, do you know any of them?"
The coroner nodded, "Guide Martin. He and Frobisher lived down the street from us. Haven't seen Martin for a while, not since..." The coroner shrugged, "not now. If you don't mind, Senior Prime?"
Jim looked at the coroner blankly, his mind was filled with the image of his guide, lying in the rain, blood pooling around his head, his long curly hair sticking to the ground because the blood had congealed. "What? Oh yes." Jim stood up. "I'll speak to you later." Jim pushed open the tent flap and moved outside, hardly noticing as Smith pushed past him. He put a hand to his head as the rain started to beat a tattoo on his skull and the wind seemed to blow through his soul. He searched for any sign of the wolf but it was useless, he was gone.
"Senior Prime?"
Jim tried to push away the guide trying to link to him and then stopped as he recognised David, Blair's deputy. He let the guide smooth out his senses. It wasn't Blair, but he knew unless he allowed someone to step in for Blair, he'd be useless both as detective and sentinel. Once his senses had come under some sort of control, Jim nodded his thanks to David and moved across to where Simon was standing. He yelled over the wind, "What's the plan?"
Simon turned away from watching the GDP officers hurriedly start to move the bodies into vans and assessed his detective, his friend. Satisfied that Jim wasn't going to kill anyone just yet, Simon said, "Apparently the GDP have had an advisory from the forest service. The weather's closing in, and they can't guarantee that the road in and out of here will stay open much longer. The river up the mountain is filling fast; could burst the bridges. We need to get out of here. Then we'll discuss what needs to be done." Simon clenched his jaw as if he expected a fight from Jim.
Jim looked around him. If the weather had been clear, they might have had a chance at tracking the perps but not now, not with the wind and the rain. Besides, he could hear the trees creaking; it was too dangerous to be out in the forest at the moment. He said amiably, "I agree, Simon. Our case?"
Simon coughed and wiped some rain off his spectacles. "Last I heard was that Claydove was in touch with the Commissioner. That was just as we were leaving Cascade." Simon's voice dropped, "They're bringing him out."
Jim turned to watch as a gurney was wheeled out of the protective tent and towards a waiting van. Smith walked beside it, his hand on the covered body. Jim and Simon watched the scene until the van's rear doors were closed and it had driven off. Jim said quietly, "Lets get back to Cascade, Simon."
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Meg frowned slightly as she heard yet another roof slate rattle as the wind boomed around the building. Then she frowned even more as the lights flickered, not that anyone else would have noticed it, the flicker was so fast. She rubbed her head, she couldn't understand why her senses were spiking so much. It just felt like when she- she shivered, she didn't want to go there, not ever again. Meg tried to focus on the soup she was making as part of the dinner, but the loud voices from the kitchen table were making her uncomfortable. The two of them had come in some time after she'd started with the soup, so she couldn't leave. Ignoring her, they'd raided the refrigerator for snacks and beers. She listened to them with growing disgust as the one, Sean, talked loudly about how he took the gun in his hand and placed it against the guide's head. She blinked, 'guide? Mancini hadn't said anything about the victim's being guides. Mancini wouldn't let guides be harmed would he?' She jumped as a hand touched the small of her back. She turned and saw Sean standing there. The other one, the one she didn't know, was still at the kitchen table draining a can of beer. Sean had one in his hand.
"Remember me, doll? Didn't know you cooked too," Meg watched warily as Sean remarked to his friend, "She’s full of surprises this one."
"Maybe while Mancini's got his hands full with the cargo downstairs you could show us, girl?"
Meg shook her head at the young man at the table. Turning her attention to Sean, she asked, "Guides?"
Sean blinked. "What?" He lifted a hand to Meg's shoulder and pulled at the neckline of her sweat top, "I remember that you liked your shoulder....”
The sound of the door opening interrupted whatever he was going to say and Meg hastily took the opportunity to move away from Sean towards the sink, leaving Sean's hand up in the air. She began to shake internally when she realised it was Mancini himself coming through the door.
"What's going on?" demanded Mancini.
Meg slid to the floor knowing that she'd be the one he would be angry with, not Sean; he was one of his associates after all.
"Just getting the recipe for the soup," Sean's reply was glib.
Meg looked at Mancini and could tell from his posture that he didn't believe the answer for a moment. She instantly caught his hand signal and rose and made her way over to him and knelt by his side in her working position. She relaxed when she felt his thigh muscles relax under her head.
"Feeling better?"
"Never better." Meg could smell the man's arousal and shifted a little, the touch of Mancini's hand on her hair stilled her. Then came the signal for 'stay', so she stayed where she was as Mancini made his way to the coffee machine; he always drank too much coffee. She watched warily as he paused at the window and looked out into the dark night for a few moments before finally pouring himself a cup of coffee.
"Even a sentinel couldn't see anything out there tonight. We'll be safe for a few days. How do we get into contact with the buyer?"
Meg glanced at Sean and David when both their heart rates jumped. "We've got that covered. We just have to decide when we're ready and he'll be waiting for us. The money will be in our bank accounts before we get home."
There was yet another rise in the heart rate of both men. Meg thought something was wrong, badly wrong.
"I'm glad that you've woken. I've got some additional business that I want to discuss with you in private," commented Sean. David's laugh sent shivers up and down Meg's spine. She wanted to tell Mancini that there was something wrong but knew he brooked no interference from anyone, let alone her, so she remained silent.
Mancini took a sip of his coffee and nodded. "Of course. Come into the office; we can talk there."
Meg could hear the moans of the injured man again. She said quietly, "The man downstairs, you said for me to monitor his vitals-"
"Yes?" demanded Mancini.
"I think he needs some IV fluids; he's going into shock." Meg could hear the man's thready heart rate well; its hard thump stood out against the muffled heart rates of the others.
Mancini nodded and yelled, "Frank?" Frank appeared from behind Meg after only a moment or two. "Take the girl downstairs. She's saying that the guy who was injured, Slater, needs some treatment. See that he and anyone else that needs treatment gets it. If she needs to sleep downstairs, make sure she's secure."
"Got it, Boss,"
Without being told to, Meg switched her attention from Mancini to Frank to wait for his orders.
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Blair woke from his doze with a jerk. He looked around at his surroundings and sighed as he realised that he'd been dreaming and this was his reality. He moaned a little as his headache returned in full force.
A female hand touched him, "Blair? You okay?"
Blair grimaced as he rubbed the large bump that was forming at the back of his head. "I think so. Just a headache, that's all." Blair stood up and leaned against the wall until the room stopped spinning around him. "Jim always remarks on how thick a skull I have." He smiled down at Tina and the younger guide she was sheltering. "How's Adam doing?"
Tina looked down at her charge, "Asleep."
Blair nodded absently; he'd already started to cross the room to where Dan lay. He knelt down by Dan's head and asked, "How's he doing?"
Martin grimaced, "He's not regained consciousness. No more bleeding but the wound needs cleaning and suturing quickly before it gets infected. How are you doing, Prime?"
Blair shrugged, "I'm okay and lay off the prime business; it’s Blair."
Martin looked at Mark quickly and said, "But ... the Clan, do you want us to .… I mean…."
Mark asked, "We were wondering, we're GDP." He shrugged, "We don't exactly get taught Clan protocol."
Blair rolled his eyes, "What do you think I'm going to do if you don't? We're all in this together; we'll work to get out of it together. " He worked his hands through his hair and winced as he found the bump and a sticky patch of what could only be blood.
Martin reached up and said, "Here, P- Blair, let me have a look at it." He fussed a little under his breath and then louder, "You should have said something sooner."
Blair rolled his eyes, "You mean so that you could have dived into the refrigerator for a bag of peas?"
Martin chuckled despite the situation, "You always this mouthy or just when your sentinel is out of the way?"
Blair just shook his head and then immediately regretted doing so. He was just getting through the wave of dizziness that the shake had given rise to when there was a metallic clang from the door to their basement room. Immediately Mark and Martin stood in front of both Dan and Blair. Blair touched Martin on the arm and indicated Tina and Adam. Martin nodded and moved over to them. Blair was glad to see that Martin’s body effectively shielded the pair from view. All eyes in the basement turned toward door as it swung open.
Frank walked in and chuckled at the defensive posture of the guides. "My, my, we've got some caged tigers here, Stuey."
The younger man came from behind Frank. He laughed, "Come here pussycats."
Blair ground his teeth together; if they only knew the power of the tiger they wouldn't be so confident. Heaven help them when Hunter got his hands on them. He took a step forwards and then stopped as both the men brought their guns to bear on him. Blair put his arms up; he wasn't ready for a fight just yet. He had to have more information first. "Can we have some first aid and some water please?"
Frank sneered, "What's this? No kneeling? No respect from a guide?"
Blair ground his teeth, 'I only kneel to Jim.'
Frank looked coolly at Blair, "You're all going to be here for a few days, so I think it would pay to show a little respect, wouldn't it, 'guide'?"
Blair paused and looked at the others; they were all going to take the lead from him. The Dark Guide whispered, ‘protect the others, protect the others, take him later.’ Blair wet his lips and cleared his throat, kneeling and placing himself in the hated, old style, working position, and said, "I'm sorry, I forgot who we are." Blair watched out of the side of his eyes as the rest of 'his' guides knelt in the same position.
Frank relaxed, the hippy guide had a bit of a mouth on him, but he still knew how to behave when reminded. He said, "We're bringing some food and water down to you. The water will have to last you overnight; so don't drink it all at once. After food, we'll take you out one by one for a bathroom break. If you all behave, some blankets and pillows will be left for you." Frank paused and looked around him to check that the guides were taking in what he was saying. When none of them said a word or challenged him, he continued, "Right now we're going to take your friend out for those repairs you've been asking for. Anyone else hurt?"
Blair wasn't going to let them have the satisfaction of knowing that he was injured and kept his mouth shut.
Mark, though, spoke up, "Sir, excuse me sir, but Blair, his head has been bleeding."
Frank bent down and looked at the wound on Blair's head. He grunted, "We must have hit you too hard. Needs cleaning. Stuey, you and hippy here can carry this one between you." He kicked Dan's foot, causing both Martin and Mark to tense.
Blair glanced at them from underneath his fringe and shook his head slightly. To Frank, Blair muttered, "Yes, sir."
Stuey slung his semi-automatic over his shoulder and reached down and pulled Dan upright, causing a groan to come from the now semi-conscious man. Stuey prompted Blair, "What are you waiting for?"
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Blair tried not to look as though he was looking around as he and Stuey struggled with Dan down the basement corridor. How he wished for sentinel senses to work out what was going on elsewhere in this isolated building. By now Jim would have everything worked out and be putting the finishing touches to his escape plan. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that when Stuey turned into a room, he nearly lost his footing and his hold on Dan. He muttered, "Man, you could have given me a bit of notice."
Stuey just threw him a foul look but waited until Blair had steadied himself. When Blair nodded, Stuey started moving again across the room. Blair raised his eyebrows at the room. It was set out much like any other treatment room. There was even an examination table with a surgical light above it. He whistled, "Nice. Does it get much use? Like for nose jobs?" Blair was about to add another wisecrack when he saw a figure hovering at the door behind Frank. A woman. He guessed that she was younger then him but probably not by much. Her hair was covered with a surgical hat and she had on a surgical scrub top.
Frank caught the direction of Blair's gaze and turned around. "There you are. We've brought two of them. You know he wants them in good condition so patch them up good."
Blair watched as the woman moved into the room and stood in front of Dan. She said to them, "Put him on the bed."
The pair obeyed. As Blair stood back, Stuey took hold of his right arm and pulled him over to a chair. Before Blair could protest, he was pushed into it and a cuff attached to a chain that went under the seat was attached to his wrist. Blair moaned a little, "Is this the way you treat all your guests?" When he got no answer, Blair gave up and concentrated on watching what they were doing to Dan, which was very little. The woman had switched the light on, and after cutting away the bloodied clothes, had taken some time in examining the wound and then Dan. Blair tried not to react when he realised that at no point had the woman taken Dan's pulse or listened closely to his chest. She quickly inserted an IV needle into Dan's good arm and connected a bag of clear fluid to it. She then snapped open a packet containing a needle and syringe and injected the contents into the IV. After a few seconds of observing her patient, she nodded to herself and then moved over to Blair.
Blair asked, "Aren't you going to do something for him?"
Meg looked briefly at Frank and then back at Blair. "He's got some splinters in his wound. Would you prefer me to dig for them without giving him an anesthetic?" Blair winced and shook his head slightly as he watched the woman take off her surgical gloves and scratched the back of her hand. As if she was suddenly conscious of Blair's scrutiny, she moved quickly to the sink and washed her hands. After taking a fresh pair of gloves from the box by the sink, she came towards Blair and asked gently, "Where are you hurt?"
Blair heard the concern in the voice, and even with his dulled empathy, recognised the concern as genuine. He put a hand to the back of his head and glared at Frank. "Someone hit me on the head."
The woman brought over another chair so that she could sit behind Blair as she examined the wound. "It's not too bad. I'll have to cut some of the hair around it to make sure its clean and then to put a bandage on if that’s okay?"
Blair rolled his eyes, like he had a choice. "You're the boss. Anyway, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"
Frank growled, "No talking. She doesn't need disturbing with your babbling. Get it done with, girl, and then he can go back."
Blair felt the fingers on his skull go tense and pause and then they went back to their careful work. The room was quiet and in about five minutes, Blair felt a small pad being applied to the cut and tape placed over that. Sentinel soft, he said, "Thank you, you were very gentle." He didn't react when a hand gently patted him on the back, didn't want to. From within the iron bars that the dampener had thrown around him, the Dark Guide smiled smugly, even dampened he could manipulate a mere sentinel. He sighed as he felt the gentle hands finish taping the last bits of gauze to his wound; he'd be going back soon.
"Stuey, take this one back to their room. I'll stay here."
‘How many senses does she have?’ Blair wondered as he was dragged down the corridor. Was it just a couple or all five, and if so, why wasn't she the one in charge?
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Blair gave the door a token kick as the bolts on the outside were closed. He didn’t need to have sentinel senses to know that the muttering he heard through the thick door wasn’t complimentary to Naomi.
Blair was about to respond to the muttering when Tina asked, "Blair? Where's the Commander?" Blair looked at the door one last time and then turned to the others in the cell. Adam was sitting up against the back wall. Tina was standing to one side of him. The other two were standing in the middle of the cell. All were holding a small cup.
Blair gestured to the door. "They've got a treatment room." He felt the pad at the back of his head and said, "I think they're going to try and patch him up. She gave him some pain relief and then she patched up my head. They brought me back after that." Blair paused, wondering whether to tell them about his suspicions and then decided not to for the time being. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I guess they want us in fairly good condition for now."
Mark asked, "Any idea why?"
Blair blew out a big breath and shook his head. "I think we all have at least one idea why." Martin opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, but then he snapped his mouth shut. Blair stared at the guide for a moment, then turned his mind to other matters, "Has the food arrived?"
Tina nodded, "Soup and bread." She held out a plastic cup, "Plenty of water too."
Blair nodded to himself; at least their 'hosts' had been true to their word. He looked at the others. "I’m sure Dan will be okay. Let’s play their game for now." One by one they all nodded their assent. Satisfied, Blair reached out and took a hunk of bread and a mug of soup. He flashed everyone a smile and then settled back against the wall, thankful that no one could see his heart beating or the shaking of his hands.
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The first that Dan knew was that someone was prodding his right shoulder. He tried to open his eyes to see who it was, but they felt so leaden that he gave up on the attempt without really trying. He felt sick and nauseous. Images of the bus explosion flooded his mind, panic flooding him; Dan tried to move away from the prodding fingers.
The fingers stopped their movement; instead a hand came to his shoulder, a female voice saying, "Please keep calm. I'm trying to help you."
Dan shook his head; instinctively he knew he wasn't in a hospital. "No."
From somewhere far away an angry male voice erupted, "I thought you said he wouldn't need restraining."
Dan tried to shake off the strong hand that grabbed his good arm, but his strength was rapidly fading. He was pushed back down, and he felt a restraint being applied to his wrist. He turned his face to the other side and forced his eyes open. His vision was blurry but he saw a young woman, her eyes looking down on him; he thought he could see some concern in them. He switched his focus to the man who was on the other side. Dan briefly registered an older man, with a scar running down the length of his face. The man smiled at Dan, revealing a set of uneven brown teeth.
"Don't worry. We're not doing major surgery on you, just enough to keep you alive until you get to wherever you're going." The man switched his gaze to somewhere outside the small field that Dan had and said, "He's all yours. Hurry up with it. I need to get him back with his fellow guests."
Dan frowned slightly as he tried to process what the man was saying; he couldn’t understand what was going on, 'why wasn't he in a hospital? Why was there such a feeling of unease and fear in the air?' Then he felt someone push into his mind, just like Hunter did. He looked around whispering, "Hunter?" There was no answer except for a strengthening of a warm fuzziness as if someone was wrapping him in a warm blanket. Dan let the warm darkness claim him again.
TBC