Disclaimer: This is an amateur effort written purely for the fun of it, and no money has exchanged hands. It is not intended to breach the copyright of Paramount/Pet Fly Productions or CBS Productions/Studios USA.
Double Edged Sword
by
Simon adjusted the headset again. It kept cutting out every time he tried to communicate with the snipers on the roof. Not that they were doing anyone any good. The Currency Exchange, designed for security rather than accessibility, was a terrible site for mounting a SWAT operation. Simon cursed under his breath – at the building, at the gung-ho SWAT Captain, at the thieves-turned-hostage-takers, at the sun, moon and stars. Most of all he cursed Jim Ellison for being inside of the building instead of outside where he needed him.
How could he have done it? Even for a sentinel, it violated every procedure. In a hostage situation you negotiated, you planned, you delayed, you promised, you negotiated some more. You damn well didn't just give yourself up like a sacrificial lamb. According to the five terrified children they had found huddled in the parking lot, that's just what Jim had done. Simon Banks believed in the values of Serve and Protect, but his heart still quailed at the thought of Jim trading himself for those kids and the critically wounded guard they had managed to drag out with them.
An appalling amount of time had slipped by since their last contact with Jim. After the first flurry of negotiation, which had confirmed Jim and the other hostages were alive, the hostage takers had become increasingly erratic. The negotiator's calls went unanswered. There had been more gunfire. Simon was becoming increasingly pessimistic about the outcome.
"Captain Banks?" Sentinel Lisa Pais and her guide Karl were kneeling beside him. "We've posted Sentinels all around the building. We're estimating seven to ten individuals by the heartbeats, and none of us can get a reading on Sentinel Prime Ellison." She shook her head. "Detective Ellison is too heads up not to be signaling us."
"What are you telling me, Pais?" growled Banks.
"He's either seriously injured, dead, or zoned. Are we sure Blair wasn't with him?" Karl's hand tightened gently on Lisa's elbow. Both were clearly worried.
"Unfortunately, yes," was the terse reply. "Blair's on his way, finally. It's taken forever for us to track him down. He was in some special Sentinel area of the library at Rainier and his cell phone didn't work. They've been on leave, for God's sake!"
"Then why was Detective Ellison here?" Lisa asked incredulously. "It's not like you have an ordinary bank account at the Currency Exchange."
"One of a thousand things I don't know," Banks answered. "I just don't know. Something just doesn't add up."
*****
"What do you know?" Blair asked anxiously.
"Not much," Henri Brown answered, trying to concentrate on his driving. His siren was blaring, but the narrow streets around the University just weren't designed for high speed travel.
"When Simon sent me over, all they knew was some incident at the Currency Exchange had dissolved into a hostage situation. One security guard was killed, one was critical when I left. According to some kids, some cop had traded himself to get them out of the building." Henri looked at his passenger. Blair's only outward sign of distress were his whitened knuckles as he grasped the familiar leather backpack. "I'm sorry, Blair, from the description it just couldn't have been anyone else. We did have one voice confirmation early on. Jim was okay then."
"It doesn't make any sense," Blair murmured. "He wasn't going anywhere. He was staying at the loft. He was building me a bookshelf."
"Maybe he needed something at the last minute," Henri suggested.
"You don't go to the Currency Exchange because you ran out of screws. I never should have left him."
"You couldn't have known, Blair. No one told you that the white noise generators in the Sentinel Section of the library were blocking cell phones."
"It's my duty to know," Blair protested. "I'm his guide. Jim comes first, always, in all things. This is my fault."
"Blair…"
"Don't say it. Just don't say it, Henri. Just get me there."
*****
"Sandburg, get back here!" Henri called frantically. "You need a vest. You're gonna get yourself killed!"
Blair showed no sign of hearing. He had bounded out of the car and dodged through the police lines before anyone could react. To Henri's dismay, Blair's headlong dash was taking him straight towards the killing ground in front of the Currency Exchange. With everyone's attention fastened on the building, Blair was going to go right through without a hand laid on him.
Sentinel ears saved the day. Lisa Pais heard the commotion and intercepted him. She towered over Blair, but was barely able to drag him back to safety without him breaking free.
"Captain, a little help?" she asked.
A muffled "Let me go!" was all Simon could hear through Lisa's firm headlock. He grabbed both of Blair's arms and used his weight to pin his observer to the SWAT van. "Sandburg! Hold still!" Blair's wild struggle gradually calmed. "Look at me, mister. You're not going to do Jim any good that way."
"Where is he, Simon? I need to get to him." Blair's deep blue eyes were frantic.
"I know that, kid. It's one of my top priorities. We're doing another recon, and the plans to the building are coming. Just hang with me here for a minute." Banks and Pais exchanged glances. It wasn't the time to tell Blair that they weren't confident of Jim's condition.
Simon turned the smaller man and pushed him firmly to a seat on the pavement by the rear tire. "Don't you move." He waited, and sighed in relief when Blair nodded. "I'll be right back and then we'll figure this out. Stay with him, Lisa." Giving Blair's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Simon filtered back to the command station.
Blair sat motionless. His eyes drifted closed. Anyone except Jim would have thought he was meditating, or just scared to death.
Jim Ellison, Dark Sentinel, understood his Dark Guide as others did not. Blair had read the silent exchange between Lisa and Simon. His sentinel was zoned, injured or dead. If zoned or injured, he needed his guide, and no risk was too great. If dead…well, then there was no reason for Blair to be concerned with his own safety.
A gentle empathic push and the bright intensity of Lisa's eyes dimmed. For a Dark Guide, a light zone was easy to achieve. Karl would have no problems calling her back, but she was incapable of interfering with Blair's plans. It would only take a moment.
Simon was crouched over the building plans when Joel Taggart grabbed his arm. Both men watched in horror as they realized the slight figure of Blair Sandburg was already halfway across the blood stained parking lot. His open hands were extended shoulder high, and he was heading straight toward the main doors. It was too late to stop him.
TWO WEEKS EARLIER
"Okay. There they are, right in the center of the quad. Take a good, long look." Garth Dobbs handed the binoculars to the young man standing next to him.
Frankie Archer fumbled with the binoculars. Finally he managed to bring them into focus. "I found Sandburg. He's easy enough to pick out. The tall guy, that's Ellison?"
"Leather jacket, short hair," Dobbs prompted.
"Yep. That's who I'm looking at. So that's the Senior Sentinel Prime of Cascade, or should I say Senior Slaver?"
"You're supposed to be the Guide Liberation Army. Do you believe your own press or not?"
Archer whirled on the man standing beside him, nearly dropping the binoculars in the process. "Don't ever question my commitment to the movement. EVER."
"Take it easy, Frankie. It was a rhetorical question. We're here because I know you're a true believer." Dobbs just managed to keep a straight face. He wasn't at all sure that this collection of college kids, academics and social do-gooders that made up the GLA in Cascade weren't all talk. In any case, he needed them. Correction, he needed their information.
"Just so we don't have any misunderstandings," Archer answered, allowing himself to be mollified. "You have to prove yourself to us, not the other way around." He went back to the binoculars. "I had Sandburg as an instructor a few years ago, when he was working on his Masters. I can't imagine why he'd stay with someone like that. He's got to know that the GLA would take care of him. His mother was active in the movement, for God's sake." He turned slowly, apparently following Sandburg and Ellison as they moved across campus. "Just look at the guy. You can tell even from this distance that Ellison is the typical alpha bastard sentinel." He looked back at Dobbs. "The GLA knows the truth. All the bullshit about Ellison letting his guide return to the University, letting him avoid guide manners." His thin face twisted into a sneer that matched his voice. "It's all just a ploy. The sentinel is the master, no matter how they try to dress it up."
"Just imagine the impact we can make on the exalted Guide Development Project when we pull this off," Dobbs cajoled, knowing this was the critical moment.
Archer lowered the binoculars again. He was grinning from ear to ear, his expression the picture of smug satisfaction. "Oh yeah, that will be so sweet, so very sweet. Hand me the camera. I want to take some photos to bring along when we meet with the others."
Garth Dobbs allowed himself a brief moment of quiet satisfaction while Frankie took his pictures. Archer was on board, and getting the rest of the GLA with the program would be easier. He'd cleared the first hurdle.
&&&&&
Jim Ellison breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Sandburg round the corner of Hargrove Hall. He wasn't in panic mode every time Blair went to the University anymore, but their time apart was more difficult than Jim would ever admit. He actually thought it was easier for Blair. It took every ounce of the young man's considerable energy to function and keep his barriers up at the same time. He didn't have time to worry and fret like his sentinel did. These lunchtime rendezvous' on Tuesday and Thursday were supposed to be for Blair's benefit, but that was just a convenient fiction. Jim knew the sentinel needed them more.
A contented smile blossomed on Jim's face. Blair had just caught sight of him, and was waving madly. No one could say that Sandburg hid his emotions. He pulled his long frame gracefully off the bench and started across the quad.
"Hey, Jim, you're early." Blair's eyes twinkled as he leaned gently into Jim. "At least I think you're early. Or am I late?"
Jim gave his hair a gentle tug. Blair had it tied back today, and was wearing his glasses. He looked particularly studious. "You were born late, Chief. Couldn't get rid of your adoring students after class, huh?"
"Sorry. I swear, there is something about freshmen that keeps their ears from functioning. I had at least six kids who came to ask me about their paper, and I'd already spent ten minutes going over it in class. Don't they ever learn to take notes in high school anymore?"
"Kids today," Jim answered in mock dismay. "Besides, they just like talking to you, Sandburg. Tone down that magnetic personality a bit." They started across the quad. Jim resisted the temptation to wrap his arms around his guide and pull him close. Blair would never have objected, but Jim consciously avoided behavior that called attention to the fact that Sandburg was a working guide whenever he could. Blair had enough trouble overcoming the simmering prejudice at Rainier University without adding to his burden. "I thought we'd go for Chinese. My mouth's been watering for sweet and sour chicken all morning."
"No complaints from me. Chinese sounds great," Blair answered cheerfully. He was in the midst of telling Jim about his busy morning when Jim froze, on full alert. Alarmed, Blair shifted his backpack and placed on hand on the small of Jim's back, the other on his wrist. "What is it, Jim?" He waited as the taller man did a slow three-sixty, scanning every inch of the quad. "Jim?"
"Nothing." The intent expression softened to an expression somewhere between confusion and embarrassment. "Sorry. For a second there, every hair on my neck was standing on end." He wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulder. "False alarm. I'm jumping at shadows. Let's go get our lunch. Tell me the rest of your story."
Far above them, hidden in the bell tower, the high-speed camera shutter continued to whir.
&&&&&
Garth Dobbs pressed himself into the brick alcove. Even though this was a necessary risk, he didn't have to like it. The GDP kept continuous surveillance on a lot of the Guide Liberation groups. It was hard to know whether this block of apartments was really as secure as Frankie Archer claimed they were.
"Come on, Dobbs. Everyone else arrived at least half an hour ago. If the GDP was going to do anything, they would have done it by now. The group is just waiting on us."
Dobbs caressed the pistol in his jacket pocket. Even if the GDP busted in on this little gathering, he had no intention of being taken. "Lead the way, Frankie," he whispered. "I'm right behind you."
They slipped down the alley. Archer produced a key that unlocked the back door. Before they entered the building, he pointed up to the fire escape. "Our meeting is in an apartment on the second floor. We've made some modifications. If anyone comes, we can get into the next flat and use the fire escape. We can either go down or over the roof. The others will delay the goons long enough for us to get you out of there."
They made their way to the second floor. One lookout was posted on the stairwell. Archer whispered that another kept watch on the front entrance. At the fourth doorway Archer knocked twice, then twice more. The door opened and they were hustled in.
Three women and two men were seated around a battered table. Another woman perched near the window sill, apparently watching the street. Archer indicated two empty chairs at the table, but remained standing while Garth Dobbs sat down.
"Okay, everyone, this is Garth Dobbs. We're taking extra precautions tonight, as you know. That's partially because this operation has the potential to strike a huge blow against the GDP. The other reason is that Dobbs here is a rogue guide, and we don't send one of the brothers into harms way." A few murmurs of approval rippled around the table. "If anything goes down tonight, we get Garth out at all costs," Archer continued. "Everyone clear on that point?"
"Let me make the necessary introductions. Last names aren't very important." He pointed to the woman sitting closest to Dobbs. "That's Kitty, Jacky and Lora. The one tall one over there is Michael. The one with the glasses is Terrel Hansen, who just happens to be Jack Kelso's Research Assistant. Terrel, why don't you start."
The invitation was met with a stony silence. Finally, Terrel answered. "We don't know this guy, Frankie. Why should I trust him with my information?"
Archer bristled. "My word isn't enough? I brought you into this organization, Terrel!"
"And I've learned the importance of being a skeptic," Terrel countered stubbornly. "You're the cell leader, and I respect that, but I need more than just your word on it."
The two men glared at each other. Garth sat tensely, waiting for this to play itself out. It was all he could do to keep from launching himself over the table and choking the information he needed out of this idiot Terrel. He concentrated on keeping his emotions under control. He'd come too far to blow it now.
Frankie laid a hand on Dobbs' shoulder. "I'm going to let Garth tell you his story in his own words. After you hear it, I think you'll be convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt." He sat down and looked expectantly at Garth.
Garth settled himself. He had to make this good. "My name is Garth Dobbs. I'll do anything, absolutely anything, to bring out the truth about the GDP. You already know I'm a rogue. What you don't know is that the GDP has destroyed my family, and I want them to pay."
He looked around the room, trying to judge what would pull at their heart strings without losing it himself. Sometimes it was hell being an empath. Old memories never lost their emotional impact. Each pain was as fresh as the day it happened. Where to start? Ken? Maisie? Both? The mental images almost overwhelmed him, and Garth fought his way back. Begin at the beginning. They'd buy it for sure.
"My parents died in a car crash. My big brother, Ken, stepped up, left the university to take care of me and my little sister, Maisie. Almost three years ago, he collapsed at work. He was a latent guide. He was immediately turned over to the GDP."
Garth looked around the room, letting that horror sink in. One of the women had tears in her eyes. "You all know what that means," he continued. "The latent gets a trip straight to the Institute, aggressive training, and the Correctional Facility if he doesn't cooperate. Their only goal is to break you. They gave him two days at home to arrange things with Maisie and me."
A wave of anger swept over Garth, for both the GDP and Ken. Why had his beloved brother played the hero? He swallowed his rage and continued. "Ken knew that when he went in, all our property would be transferred to his sentinel. Maisie and me, well, we weren't the GDP's problem, but since he was a guide, they'd sure be looking at us for our empathic potential. We already knew I was an empath. At best, our family would be broken apart, penniless, and if we were lucky we might get a chance to see him once a month, maybe twice if the sentinel was generous."
"Ken took the only course he could see. He drove out into the woods, telephoned the police, and ate my dad's gun." Garth took a deep breath. His emotions were nearly out of control. One of the women was sobbing.
"He was very brave." Garth heard someone say. The others agreed. Garth struggled to keep going.
"I heard the tape of the call, the police dispatcher trying to talk him out of it. Ken told them he didn't want an innocent person to find the body, that it was for the best, that he had left letters and his will on the dashboard of the his car, and that he loved his brother and sister. His final words were the location of the car. When they got there it was already too late."
"The GDP didn't waste any time. They came after Maisie and me. As far as the GDP is concerned, I'm officially a rogue, and Maisie needed to be examined as soon as they could lay hands on her. We were on the run the minute the funeral was over. After we went into hiding, a family friend sold the house for us, so we had a little cash."
The
surrounding group burst into conversation. Everyone was talking at once –
criticizing the GDP, praising Ken, congratulating Garth. He let them carry on. He was lost in his own thoughts, replaying
those early days.
Maisie looked
up from her homework, “Why Cascade?"
He pitied his
little sister. She just couldn't grasp
the concept that school was now a thing of the past.
Garth turned
in the chair to face her. “Simple.
Cascade is the one place no one would expect a rogue guide to run
to. It's GDP City. We'll have to go right after the funeral, in
secret. Did you pack your bags like I
asked you to?
"But
Garth, our friends will be there. We
need to pay our respects to Ken."
Tears streamed down her face.
"There's a dinner at the church, and…"
He grabbed
her by the shoulders, shaking her hard.
"Maisie, join the real world.
The GDP is going to be standing at the door, waiting to take you in for
testing. They already suspect me, and I
won't be able to fool them if they test me again. We have this one chance to give them the slip." His only answer was her silent tears. "Remember if anyone questions you about
your GDP medical, you had it last year.
That officially gives us eighteen months grace before we have to start
hacking the computers again, although I'm not sure the GDP isn't just going to
go ahead and test you anyway. Do you
understand me, Maisie? It's now or
never." She nodded.
“All
right. I know a guy in Seattle. His name is Colin. He's a major flake, but he's one of the good guys. He’s a computer wizard, he can do everything
with one but make them sit up and beg.
He can edit our records; help us get set up in Cascade. We're going to be safe, Maisie. If you just do what I tell you, no one is
ever going to get their hands on us."
The
group had finally returned their attention to him. He had their sympathy at this point. Garth lowered his barriers just a fraction. Terrel was still hostile. He'd have to give them more. He braced himself for more emotional pain.
"We
got set up in Cascade, thanks to Colin," he said. "Other than Sharpe, we kept our
distance from the rest of the GLA.
That's why you don't know about us.
I thought it would be safer for Maisie.
I stayed underground. I had the
computer skills, and Colin is well connected.
It was easy enough to get work, even if it was on the black market. I tried to talk her out of it, but Maisie
wanted to go to school."
"Where
is she, Garth?" said one of the women.
"Is your sister still free?"
Now that
was the real question, wasn't it?
"We
got Maisie set up taking classes at Rainier.
I was walking her across campus.
Three or four guys were having this altercation. The smaller guy was getting a good shaking,
and got tossed in our direction. I
couldn't pull us out of the way, and we ended up in a heap along with a couple
other students." He stopped for a
moment, the hate bubbling through him.
"They were off-duty GDP personnel.
One of them was a sentinel by the name Morris. An unbonded sentinel."
"All
hell broke loose. It was chaos. I got separated from Maisie, and the
unbonded put a hand on her when he pulled her out of the tangle. He knew immediately. With all the GDP around, she never had a
chance."
Garth
felt the dismay ripple around the room.
The look on Maisie's face haunted his dreams. "That was the last time I saw her. Now you understand," Garth finished. "I want them to pay." He wouldn't tell them the rest. That was for him to know. It would be his final justice.
The group looked first to Frankie, then to Terrel. Frankie was their leader, but Terrel was the one who controlled the vital information. Finally, Terrel nodded. "Okay, Dobbs, I'm satisfied. Here's what I know. I've been Kelso's research assistant for two years. I'm sure you've heard of him. He's in a wheel chair, so mostly he needs me for fetch and carry stuff. He's very security conscious. I rarely get a look at the serious shit that he's working on. When he's ready to publish, that's when I usually get a look."
"It was a fluke, but I got a peek at some info he had on the GDP. Maybe he wasn't as careful with it for some reason, and he has no idea that I'm with the GLA. The short version is that an underground segment of the GDP is selling guides overseas. The proceeds are being deposited in numbered private repositories in the Currency Exchange. I had time to get the computerized access codes before Jack knew what I was about. Unfortunately, the codes are useless if you can't get into the main vault at the Currency Exchange. According to Frankie, I guess that's where you come in."
Garth Dobbs smiled. "Oh, yeah. I can get you in the vault." He leaned forward, a conspiratorial smile on his face. "The main vault is controlled by a state-of-the-art sonic system. Instead of tumblers or numeric codes, the sequence to open the vault is based on a series of twenty tones."
"That's why we need a sentinel," Frankie Archer explained. "We need a sentinel and someone who knows how to guide him. Garth can be the guide." Archer pulled a series of eight by ten photos out of his bag and passed them to the group. "We can't use just any sentinel, either. The quote unbeatable unquote system needs a special touch, a dark sentinel. They are the rarest of the rare, people. Here he is - Jim Ellison, Senior Sentinel Prime of Cascade."
"You have got to be kidding," Terrel hissed. "That's your plan, to use the Senior Prime?" He gestured scornfully at Dobbs. "And just how is he supposed to deliver all that?"
Dobbs pushed back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I can deliver, all right."
"There are other guides," Terrel challenged. "Why you? How would someone like you know the details of opening the vault?"
"Sure there are other guides," Garth said dismissively. "Go find one that knows sophisticated electronics. Go find one that isn't already a prisoner to the GDP or half drugged out of their mind with damper drugs. More importantly, find one that knows about Dark Sentinels." He let those thoughts sink in. "Right, that's what I thought. Now pay attention."
"One of the few Dark Sentinels in recent times was a woman named Alex Barnes. She was a seriously deranged woman, a born criminal." Dobbs inwardly rejoiced. He could tell from their expressions that he had them in his pocket now. "I'm one of the few people still alive who had any contact with her. She needed a guide, and because she was out of control herself, she couldn't get one through normal channels. She needed a rogue." He tapped one of the photographs in front of them. "She took Sandburg. She had some – uh, needs, shall we say – of a sexual nature, and Sandburg's pretty. She had a real fixation with the boy."
"So where did you come in?" Terrel asked.
"She kept me around for my technical expertise, and if she ever lost interest in Sandburg, she probably would have tried to use me as a guide. I kept a real low profile, but I took the opportunity to learn about Dark Sentinels. Here's the real kicker. Sandburg killed her, and wound up with the GDP Corrections Facility. By some cosmic accident, he ended up bonded to another dark sentinel – Jim Ellison. The information about the vault? Well, that was a little parting gift from Alex after she died, not that she ever intended to share it with anyone."
"So there it is. Sandburg is the key to Ellison, Ellison is the key to the vault, and I'm the only one you'll ever find who knows how to use them." He scanned the room, going from face to face. "I'm giving you thirty seconds to decide, and then I'm walking out of here. You'll never see me again." He needed to bring this to an end. His barriers were fraying. He needed to get away from these people, and all the memories.
"Terrel, come on," pleaded Archer. "It will work! We expose the GDP for what it is, and bring down the Sentinel Prime and Guide Prime in the process. What could be more perfect?"
Terrel ignored Archer completely. Instead he stared at Dobbs. Garth glared right back, meeting the silent challenge. Finally, without breaking eye contact, Terrel nodded. "I'm in," he said quietly. "Let's get it done."
*****
Jim surveyed with dismay the stacks of term papers Blair was unloading from his backpack. It held a lot more than he expected. Still, the stacks kept coming. There couldn't possibly be that many from Blair's two classes.
Blair picked up on his sentinel's anxiety. His eyes widened, and he started gathering the stacks hastily. "Sorry, Jim. I shouldn't be strewing these in the living room. Just give me a sec, and I'll work in my room."
"Sandburg, take it easy." Jim stilled the fluttering hands and pulled his friend to the couch. "It's not the mess. It's just – there's so many. How can you possibly read all of these? You keep a killer schedule as it is. There must be hundreds."
"Uh, there are ninety-seven, to be exact. I have an overload in one class. Still, that's not so bad."
"Not so bad?" Jim asked, completely incredulous. He picked up one of the papers and scanned it. It had to be ten pages. "How fast can you read and grade one of these?"
Blair frowned. "Well, I've never really thought about it that way. It just takes however long it takes." He looked hopefully at Jim. "The well-written ones go really fast."
Jim looked skeptically at the piles. "They can't all be good ones. What's the average? Ten minutes per paper? Do the math, Chief. That's hours of grading, at a minimum, probably days, on top of everything else you do."
Blair wasn't exactly sure where this was going. "Jim, I know it seems like a lot, but it is part of my responsibility as an instructor. I've done it before. A couple of late nights, a long weekend, and they're done before you know it." Blair could sense Jim wasn't convinced. If anything, he seemed impatient, even a little angry.
"Listen to me, Sandburg. Not only do you work with me, but our time apart wears you out. Do you think I don't know how much your barriers fray during the day, or how much energy it takes to maintain them? Do you really think I don't know you drop into bed exhausted at night, every night? It's not going to work." Jim's face hardened, the way he looked when he had come to a decision and wasn't going to change his mind. He left the couch and headed across the room to the phone.
Blair watched the retreating back. A cold fear suddenly gripped his heart. Jim had been so good about accommodating his studies. What if he changed his mind? Jim was within his rights to revoke his permission and have his guide at his side full time. Blair began to panic. Jim was already dialing.
"Simon? Ellison. Glad I caught you at the office." He had his back to Blair, completely unaware that the younger man had dropped to his knees. "Blair and I need to change our schedules. We've discussed this possibility, and I hate to have to go this route, but it's necessary." Jim was silent, and was nodding his head slightly, apparently listening. "I realize it’s a big change, but it's for the best. I'll take care of notifying Dr. Woodward if you'll handle the other." More silence. "Yes, sir, that will do it. See you tomorrow."
He hung up the phone and turned around with a broad smile on his face. "All fixed, Chief." Jim did a double-take as he realized that Blair was kneeling, his blue eyes wide with fear. He was mouthing words, but no sound was coming out. "Chief? What the hell?" He grabbed Blair by one arm, hauling him to his feet.
"Please, Sentinel – Jim, please. I won't let the work interfere. I won't neglect my duties to you. I can make it work. Please…"
Jim realized his guide was in near panic, and interrupted the plaintive voice. "Hold it, Sandburg, just hold it a minute. What did you think was happening here?" Blair gave no answer. He just couldn't get the words out. "You thought I was going to jerk you out of the University, didn't you?" Jim wrapped the quivering shoulders in a hug, pulling Blair close. He cursed himself for not realizing that Blair might jump to the wrong conclusion. "Take it easy, Chief. Simon and I discussed this long ago. We knew there might be times when you'd need to be full time with your other responsibilities, and we have a backup plan. As of tomorrow morning, I'm off the schedule in Major Crime and on four days of research. That should be enough time for you to read your papers, won't it?" He gently moved Blair away so he could see his face.
"Four days?" Blair stammered. "You're going on desk duty so I can read papers?" he asked, totally overwhelmed by this gesture of support.
"Chief," Jim said gently, "I made you a promise, and I didn't make it frivolously. You're going to have as much of your own life as it's possible for me to give you. I can't make it perfect, but I'll do what I can, when I can. In this case, doing two jobs is too much. I can't live with myself any other way."
Jim settled back on the couch. He pulled Blair with him, tugging him into his lap, wrapping his arms round the still shaking guide, a hand pressing the curly head against his shoulder. With touch Jim tried to center his younger guide. He pressed against their link, all too aware that he did not have the lightest of touches. Breathing a prayer of thanks, he felt Blair’s mind open up to him. It was like entering a storm, and once again he regretted frightening his guide. Jim was battered but clung to their connection, and slowly the tempest calmed. The incident proved again just how close to the surface Blair’s fears still were. His guide could not believe that his life would not just be pulled out from under him.
The need to bond was beginning to course through them. Using his strength, Jim lowered Blair back onto the couch, feeling the smaller body relax. As Blair began to draw from their bond, Jim opened himself to fill the need. This was what the GLA and the GDP did not understand. Neither group, blinded by their own bias, had any idea that the bond was not static. It was a living essence, and changed from day to day, depending on the needs of the sentinel and guide. At this moment, Blair needed to feel that he was cherished and protected. In the completion of their bond there were no boundaries. Blair could feel the very source of Jim’s emotions, and that was the reservoir which calmed him. Blair reached up and wrapped his arms round his sentinel, feeling the older man settle against him. They gave themselves over to the peace of the bond.
&&&&&
This should be their final meeting. Garth Dobbs looked around the room dubiously. Frankie Archer and Terrel Hansen had supposedly selected their best people. They still looked like a bunch of flakes to him. He hated putting his future in their hands. He let Archer get things organized. His moment was coming. They had a date selected, the following Saturday. It would give them a few more days to get everything in place. Finally, Archer turned the meeting over to him.
"Moving on a Saturday is important. The Exchange is closed, and almost no one enters the building during a closure. We'll have fewer guards to deal with, but our intent is to avoid them completely. As far as the building designers are concerned, the first floor doors are the only way in and out. We aren't going that way, and they should miss us completely. Two things need to happen before the main group moves on the Exchange. First, we have to get Sandburg out of the way. Even with the drugs we're going to use, I can't override the bond of a Dark Sentinel if his guide is nearby. Terrel, is that set up?"
Terrel Hansen nodded. "Couldn't be more perfect. On Friday Sandburg will get a message that some manuscripts will be at Rainier for a limited time period, and will be housed in the Sentinel Section. They don't like Sandburg in there, because he's a guide. I'll send a message in the name of his favorite librarian that she'll get him in for a few hours Saturday morning. He won't be able to resist. We'll have our own person at the desk. I've swiped a little gizmo from Jack Kelso that will block all cell phone calls, in and out. Sandburg never uses the phones in the Sentinel Section because he has to sneak in to begin with. Once we get him to the library, he'll be totally isolated and more importantly, out of contact with Ellison."
Garth continued his explanation. "The second thing that happens is we kidnap William Ellison. Other than Sandburg, he's the only viable leverage we can use. All it will take is a simple phone call to Ellison threatening his father's life."
"What's going to keep Ellison from contacting the police, or going for Sandburg?" Jacky asked.
"We'll have someone at the loft to drive him, but they won't know where they're going. It will keep Ellison on a time limit, and he won't be able to threaten the information out of the driver, because the driver will be getting the directions en route," Frankie Archer answered.
Garth continued his explanation. "The Currency Exchange will be shut down, but, as I said, we'll be going in through a security gap that Alex Barnes discovered. By the time Jim Ellison arrives at the Exchange, we'll be waiting with William Ellison in hand. Under my direction, with a little help from the drugs, our Dark Sentinel will replicate the tones to get into the vault. We'll be gone before they even know we were there."
"We take what we need, and expose the whole charade," Archer chimed in gleefully. "The GDP, the Sentinel Prime, the Guide Prime – we discredit all of them, and even get their secret funds to finance our own GLA operations." He gestured expansively. "All we need to do now is break into teams, so everyone knows their role."
*****
Jim was working at the kitchen table and struggling to concentrate. After three days of research, he was tired of case files and bored out of his mind. He glanced at Blair, who was completely focused on yet another term paper. Jim marveled at the man's ability to focus. They'd separated to work hours ago when Blair had come home from class, and for all intents and purposes, his friend had dropped off the face of the earth. He was sitting sideways on the couch with his knees pulled up, balancing a textbook for a writing surface. Apparently, this particular paper had some problems, because the red pen was flying.
Jim shook his head. His original estimate of ten minutes per paper hadn't been far off. If anything, Blair tended to spend longer on his grading. Jim was positive that in some cases Mr. Sandburg spent longer on the comments than the student had in the writing. Finally, Blair sighed, scribbled something on the last page, and tossed the paper in the completed pile. He was reaching for another when Jim decided it was time to step in.
"Hold on there, teach. It's time to come up for air." Blair looked a bit startled. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Jim crossed the room and confiscated the book. "I declare it dinner time."
"Is it that late?" Blair asked.
"Sort of, but it's Friday and your sentinel says it's time to take a break. Dinner is as good an excuse as any." He surveyed the wreckage that had been his living room. "How many left?"
"Uh, let's see," Blair said, searching the piles, "Maybe fifteen or twenty. I can get most of them done tonight."
"Correction, you'll do them on Saturday and Sunday. If we go back on Monday, that's still a day early."
"Really, Jim, I can finish tonight."
Jim waved the protest off. "Let me supply the translation for the Sandburg version. If you read every waking moment into the wee hours of the morning, you can finish tonight. That includes the fact that you'll be living off coffee and will fall asleep at some point while you're reading. You'll turn into a broken human pretzel and then try to convince me you're not beat. Come on, Chief. You were at Rainier until one, and I know you skipped lunch. You were tired and frazzled before you started this marathon." He smiled at the look on Blair's face. "Just because I let it slide doesn't mean I can't tell. Someone hassled you this morning. Why don't you get it over with and tell me what happened?"
Blair lowered his eyes and didn't answer.
Jim waited. As the silence continued, he set down the book, moved to the end of the couch and massaged the tight shoulders. Whatever it was, Blair really didn't want to discuss it. Jim opened the link between them. It was the surest way to calm his guide and get to the truth.
"The GLA has been dropping a new batch of leaflets this week," Blair said in a small voice.
"Idiots. So what? It's always the same song, second verse. It's not as if anyone takes them seriously."
"They mentioned me by name this time. That's never happened before."
"What?" Jim's voice rose in anger. He was facing Blair in a heartbeat. "They singled you out personally? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I – it's hard – Jim, just sit down so I can talk to you for a second, okay?"
Jim didn't miss the forlorn note in his roommate's voice. He sat down, trying hard to rein in his emotions. Blair sat up a little straighter and wrapped his arm around his knees. The younger man was clearly upset.
"The GLA are a bunch of idiots most of the time, but their hearts are in the right place. Part of me agrees with them, even if I don't approve of their methods. I didn't go rogue in the first place because society makes it great to be a guide." He gave Jim a worried glance. "I hope you can hear me say that without thinking I don't appreciate what you do for me. You do understand that, don't you?"
"Yeah, Chief, I understand. Neither one of us is crazy about the system as it exists. I didn't think I wanted a guide either. I'm not angry, not at you, at least. Tell me what they said."
"It was like an editorial. The gist was that as Senior Guide Prime, I'd abandoned my fellow guides, betrayed them. That my being at Rainier was just camouflage and that I was allowing the GDP to use me as a smokescreen."
"That's ridiculous. The GDP has fought us every inch of the way."
Blair shrugged. "They don't know that." He was silent again, and his eyes filled with tears. "They even mentioned Naomi, and had her picture," he said softly. "You know Naomi. I can't imagine how she'll react, how hurt she'll be. I can't do a thing about it."
Jim said nothing. He wasn't entirely comfortable with Naomi, and didn't completely trust her. In the eyes of Naomi Sandburg, Jim Ellison would always be a bit of a jack-booted thug; a slaver who had taken her son and made him nothing more that a pet. Even though she had seen the way the two of them interacted together, Jim was well aware she had not abandoned her deep-rooted concerns. Her ideas still had the potential to endanger his guide, and he had every reason to be cautious. Still, he knew how close Blair and his mother were, and didn't wish them any more pain. "Did you keep one of the leaflets?" he finally asked.
"Yes. You don't want to see it."
"Hand it over, Chief," he said. Blair hesitated. "Either you give me one, or I'm out the door to Rainier to get one of my own."
Blair responded with silence and rustled around in his backpack. As he handed it over, he pleaded, "Don't go ballistic on me, okay?"
Jim scanned the text, his fury growing. If anything, Blair had minimized the virulence of the attack. As he continued to read, Blair's hand tightened around his wrist. His guide was trying to keep him calm. By the time he reached the last paragraph, he exploded. "Damn them to Hell! They've threatened your life, Sandburg!" He read aloud, "…if Sandburg is going to be traitor to his own, refusing to act on the behalf of enslaved guides everywhere, he's better off dead…" He pulled away from Blair's grasp and started pacing. "When did these first come out?"
"One of my students brought one to me yesterday. There were posters left on my office door and in my lecture hall this morning." He slumped under Jim's withering glare. "I didn't want to talk to you about it until I wasn't so freaked out. The posters really set me off."
"Did you keep the posters?"
"In my desk at school."
Jim stomped to the phone. "I'm calling Slater. The damn GDP can earn their keep doing something useful for a change." He was still shaking his head as he angrily punched in the numbers.
Blair was curled up on the couch again, the picture of misery. "Don't be mad, Jim. I would have told you." He met Jim's eyes. "Really, I would have."
Jim gave him the barest of nods before his voice rose again. Commander Slater was getting an earful.
*****
"Are you absolutely stupid?" Garth shouted. "How could you have done anything so completely foolish! What kind of an operation are you running anyway?"
"Back off, Dobbs!" Frankie Archer shouted right back. "You don't call the shots. We need to prepare the way for Saturday. The public will be more receptive when we reveal the scandal if we prepare them a little."
Garth gritted his teeth. This kind of anger wasn't good for his barriers. He needed to keep this under control. "It would be nice if the operation was successful. You can't use the results with the public if we DON'T GET IN." He looked down at the floor. He'd give anything to just scream at Frankie and all the rest of his crew. "Did it ever occur to you that Ellison might find out about this stuff? Go into Blessed Protector overdrive?" He let Archer process that thought. "Do you have any idea what kind of clout this guy has? It's well within his authority to roust every known GLA cell just for the entertainment. What happens if half of our personnel end up under lock and key before the night is over?"
"I – they can't – I'm sure-" Archer stammered.
"Oh yes they can. Easily. Get everyone we need in a hotel within the hour. Pay in cash. Do it now, Frankie, or all our planning will go down the drain." He turned his back on the GLA activist and moved to the window. He was still staring at the watery streaks trickling down the window when the door closed and the apartment went silent.
"One more day," Garth whispered to himself. "Only one more day to go."
*****
"Sandburg, I know you love this office, but even I think it's freezing in here. Don't they ever heat this place?"
"Periodically. It usually isn't this bad," Blair said. He rummaged in his desk, almost afraid to look at Jim's face. After raging at Slater, Jim had made repeated calls to the investigative branches of the GDP. The Senior Sentinel Prime of Cascade was a hard man to ignore. GDP officers were out checking known GLA activists. Despite all the action being taken, Jim was on slow simmer.
"I ought to call Campus Maintenance and get their sorry butts over here."
Jim took one step toward the phone and Blair lunged, laying both hands over the receiver. "Jim, please. Let's have one crusade at a time. Leave Maintenance in peace for the moment, okay?"
"Okay, but I'm buying you a space heater tomorrow. Where are those posters?"
"Here," Blair said, handing over the crumpled sheets. He shrugged at Jim's knowing look. "I was a little upset when I saw them the first time. After I wadded them up and threw them in the trash I decided maybe I should keep them. Like I said, I planned on giving them to you eventually."
"Right." Jim shook his head angrily as he sorted through the sheets. Aggression poured off him in waves. When Blair moved close he took a step back. "Don't connect to me right now, Chief. I need a minute."
Blair retreated to his desk chair. He knew Jim was trying to shield him, but he hated it when Jim shut him out, even on a temporary basis. For lack of anything better to do, he turned on the computer and checked his email. Most of it was routine; department notices, grad student chatter, seminar announcements. Jim was on the phone again, talking to Slater, so he worked through the list, sending replies and making notes in his planner. The last one almost took his breath away.
"Just a second, Slater. What?" Jim asked, pulling away from the phone. "Did these bastards send you something?"
"Nothing like that, Jim. Good news. Go back to your call." Blair reread the message, barely able to contain his eagerness. A new manuscript, possibly a Burton or one of his students, was in the Sentinel Section. He had to get his hands on it while it was available.
This would be tricky. Blair had never mentioned that parts of the Rainier Library were still officially forbidden territory. Considering Jim's protective mood at present, now wasn't the time to bring it up. Jody, his favorite librarian, would be there tomorrow morning and let him in. Somehow, he'd have to convince Jim to let him go, and go alone. If Jim found out he had to sneak in, there'd be an explosion of epic proportions.
Blair shut down the computer. He and Jim could go out for a meal, and then settle in at the loft. He could let Jim defend his territory for the evening. Jim would be a lot calmer in the morning, and he'd be able to convince him that a Saturday trip to the library was no big deal.
*****
Jim took one last swipe at the counter and surveyed the loft. After breakfast, Sandburg had packed up the majority of the term papers and was making a run over to the University. Not only did it make the loft a lot neater, it was obviously a trip Blair really wanted to make. A few hours of burrowing around the library would probably balance out being totally smothered by his sentinel the day before. Under the circumstances, he hated letting Blair out of his sight, but he'd relented. Blair had looked like a kid opening Christmas presents when he had sailed out the door with a stuffed backpack and a wide grin.
Sipping a mug of coffee, Jim settled in an open area near the balcony. A pale morning sun was filtering through the windows. He pried open a cardboard carton and carefully started to remove sections of his latest project, a bookshelf for Blair. He could do the sanding and assembly while Blair was out playing scientist, and then they could haul it outside to do the staining and finishing.
Jim lost himself in the task, polishing the boards to a satiny smoothness. Sentinel touch set a pretty high standard. After fretting over his guide's safety half the night, it was soothing to relax with a repetitive task. When the phone rang, he stretched toward the table and grabbed it.
"Ellison."
"Jimmy? Jimm…"
"Dad, is that you?" Jim was on his feet, his heart chilled. He could hear sounds of a struggle, and muffled voices. "Dad!"
"Detective Ellison, if you want to continue this call walk out on your balcony."
"Who is this? Let me speak to my father." Jim searched frantically for the cell phone. If this was a kidnapping, he needed to get Simon on the line.
"Listen carefully, Detective. If you don't do exactly as you are told, your father is dead." Jim heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked. "Get your cell phone. You have one for work. Walk out on the balcony. There's a blue sedan in the parking lot. Step out where our colleague can see you. Ten seconds, and I hang up."
Jim moved cautiously. Below him he could see a young man standing by the blue sedan, speaking into a cell phone. Immediately he dialed up his hearing.
Okay, he's on the balcony.
"That's very good, Detective. Now throw the cell phone over the edge, and I'll let you speak to your father."
Barely restraining his anger, Jim hurled the cell toward the man below. It smashed into the pavement at his feet.
Cell phone's down.
"Jimmy, they haven't hurt me." Jim heard more whispers and shuffling in the background. "You're supposed to go down to the car and take the other guy's phone. I'm to read you the driving directions. The man driving the car doesn't know where I am, and doesn't know where you are going." There was a pause. "They're giving me cards to read, Jimmy, one at a time. You have twenty seconds."
Jim Ellison had no choice. He tore down the stairs two at a time.
*****
"Dobbs, the car is here."
Garth allowed himself a moment of triumph. He had the Senior Sentinel Prime dancing to his tune, and one of the wealthiest men in the city on his knees in front of him. He handed the last card to William Ellison. The older man glared at him. He looked battered but defiant. Garth tugged on the leash until it began to choke. How poetic to truss the sentinel's daddy in a punishment wrap. He eased off and motioned to Ellison to begin reading.
"Jimmy, you're to open the glove box. There is a pair of handcuffs inside. The driver is to put them on you. You're to walk to straight ahead and turn left into the alley. This is the last card."
Jim was on full alert as he turned into the alley. A stocky man with dyed blond hair stood lounging by a dumpster. He was motioned forward.
Jim stopped about ten feet away. "Where's my father?"
"Inside." A rickety wooden door was pulled open. "Don't try anything, or he'll be the first one to go."
Jim nodded. As he passed in front of the man, a hand was placed firmly between his shoulder blades. Reflexively, Jim lashed out, but the blonde had dodged away, just out of reach.
"Don't touch me, you bastard," Jim snarled. His flesh crawled. This man was an empath, but his mental signature was not the gentle warmth of any guide he'd ever known. Instead it was deathly cold, reptilian - an evil to be avoided.
"Just keep walking, Detective," Garth said. "I'll get to you soon enough."
*****
David Chandler fondly surveyed the boisterous group of children sharing his breakfast table. He valued the peace and quiet of a well-managed home, but even all these years after his own offspring were grown and gone, he still missed the laughter of the young. It was worth putting up with chocolate chip waffles on a Saturday morning to enjoy his grandchildren. "Davey, are you sure your mother makes these things for you at home?" he asked.
The curly blonde head next to him nodded enthusiastically. "They're great, aren't they, Grandpa?"
"I suppose, Davey, I suppose. How long does it take the little ones to come down off the sugar high?" At twelve, his namesake was usually a pretty reliable source of information. Chandler looked pointedly at the six year old twins at the other end of the table.
"Well," Davey said thoughtfully, "Mom does say that she runs them for awhile after breakfast."
"She does? Well, of course." He leaned over with a conspiratorial air. "I don't suppose the zoo would be an acceptable place to run them?"
Davey's eyes lit up. "I think we could tire them right out, Grandpa."
"Well, then it's settled, my man. You can be my noble assistant." He surveyed the troops, which included two of Davey's cousins along with his twin sisters. "Ladies, go get your shoes and coats. We are going on an expedition." He couldn't help laughing as the cheering mob bolted up the stairs.
"Honestly, David, what are you thinking? Those little girls will run you ragged, and the zoo doesn't open for another two hours." His wife shook her head. "I hope you weren't counting on me to herd them around with you. I have to be at the art museum at eleven."
"I didn't forget, my dear." Chandler brushed a kiss on her forehead. "It will take awhile to drive into the city, and we'll stop off at work first. They'll love the new aquariums in the reception area." He grinned. "It's one of the perks of being the boss. No one says anything if you bring in an invading army on a weekend." He rustled around in his pockets. "Actually, love, do you have some quarters? If all else fails, I can get ten minutes worth occupying them with the vending machines."
"You are such a little kid, David." She handed some change. "What would everyone think if they knew the Managing Director of the Currency Exchange had to hustle quarters?"
*****
Garth Dobbs concentrated all his attention on the electrical box in front of him. One more panel and they'd be in the service basement of the Currency Exchange. He could disable the cameras in the south stairwell and they would be on their way.
"Hurry up," Terrell said with a hiss. "That sentinel is going to pull something any second. The guy is lethal."
Garth threw a quick look over his shoulder. Ellison's eyes were covered, and he was wearing headphones that contained a white noise generator. Other than drugging him unconscious, they couldn't do any more. They certainly couldn't have carried him through this maze of tunnels.
"Don't be paranoid. He's cuffed and blinded." Garth went back to work, connecting one last bypass wire. "We're in," he said. "Everybody stay close."
Dragging the two Ellisons along, they scaled the first flight of stairs. Once reaching the first floor, they had to cross a back corner of the main floor reception area to reach the south stairwell. The security surveillance was concentrated on the external exits. No one would be looking for entry from the supposedly sealed basement. If he trusted their control of Sentinel Ellison a bit more, he would have used the man's hearing to screen the area near the door. Unfortunately, the Dark Sentinel was the biggest wild card of all. It wasn't worth the risk.
Garth drew his revolver and flipped the safety. Despite their intention to do this in secret, they were well armed. He saw the sentinel's nose twitch. He must be able to smell the gun oil, or the ammunition. It was just as well that he knew there were weapons around. Garth pushed the door open and moved into the lobby, motioning the others to follow.
Frankie had William Ellison by the elbow.