A short fictional work based on the tv series 'Without a Trace'
Rating: PG-17 (Language, violence)
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the show or characters. This story is for entertainment purposes only, without profit or gain of any kind.
Note: First, thanks to all of you who've read both of my earlier Without a Trace pieces, Nothing Gold Can Stay from last year and more recently, In Extremis: Epilogue. I truly appreciate your kind and generous support, it really does make a difference hearing from you, it helps me write better.
A big huge Debt of gratitude to my friend and advise giver and most excellent editor, Christy. Thanks Pard, without you, this story wouldn't be here.
Warning, this story might be long, (those of you who've read my Magnificent Seven Fic's know how hard it is for me to write short stories. Stop laughing Laramee, I can hear you!)
Without Further interruption, let the tale begin.
Coughing and wheezing, Martin blinked, sat up and adjusted to the darkness around him. He stood up and peered at the large boilers and other ancient gear stowed in the cellar of the warehouse. The rookie pulled a small flashlight from the gear on the belt he wore and flicked it on. He moved cautiously, pausing to pick up a good size piece of wood in case he ran into trouble. For a warehouse so large the boiler room was small. In addition to the old heaters and the new system, there were boxes and crates filling the cavity. Martin eased his slim body through the narrow lane and found the lone door. He jerked the knob but it was locked.
"Great..." he mumbled.
Peering around the room, he caught sight of the new heating system, it's light coloring stood out. He moved closer his gaze roaming to the ceiling. There was a wide grid cut into the plaster. Hope flared up again and he made his way through the wooden and steel maze until he was under the grate. It was more than adequate width to fit his body through and would provide a path throughout the building. A path he could follow without being detected. He dropped his club and moved several large crates over, creating a crude ladder which he used to engage the ceiling. Holding the small flashlight with his teeth, he eyed the two screws holding the grate in place. Carefully, he took the small penknife from his pocket and unscrewed the grate It dropped easily into his hand. He dropped it to the floor and took the light back in his hand.
"Bingo!" he whispered, slipping his body into the duct.
Danny looked up when Nick strode into the large day room. He looked a lot better, he'd gained some weight and his eyes weren't as empty. He was in the last week of his stay at the highly ranked facility. Jack mentioned that DiSipio was going back to his mother's old neighborhood at the Jersey Shore for awhile. That might be the right medicine for him, a small town by the sea. The ocean could be a very healing balm.
"Hey, man, you look better," Danny noted cheerfully, taking the extended hand.
"Thanks, Danny, I feel better. I'll never scoff at anyone who takes therapy again. How's everybody?"
"Good, busy, you know how it is," Danny replied and regretted the words immediately. He saw the shadows appear and the younger man turned away."Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"That's okay, Danny, I have to learn to face that." Nick eyed the crowded area around them full of other patients. "Let's walk outside, it's nice out today."
Pete entered Nick's room and found it empty.. He made his way to the large common area shared by patients and sometimes visitors. There where a dozen or so other patients parked in front of televisions. Some were in robes, their zombie eyes telling him they were medicated. Others were playing cards or talking. He saw the back of his son's head outside and moved to the window. He recognized the man with Nick , Danny Taylor.
As the two men disappeared down a path and beyond his sight, he thought on his son. The bright blue sky and that brilliant sun nestled in it should be a symbol of Nick's future. That path should have led to a promotion eventually, the leader of an F.B.I unit, then onto Washington D.C. in a position of authority in the White House maybe. But instead, all Pete Gibson had of his only son's future was broken glass. The crystal he'd set on the altar when he met the boy so many years ago was now smashed.
He couldn't put the pieces back together but he could make sure the man who was responsible would pay. Jack Malone's future would be left in shards and totally irreparable, just like his son's.
Jack Malone would pay and pay dearly.
As Danny drove off after spending the afternoon with Nick, he wondered about the odd way the kid spoke. It was almost as if he didn't know he'd been dismissed. A few times he mentioned 'coming back' and 'making no mistakes this time'. Danny didn't feel he had the right to question that, maybe the kid hadn't been told yet. Maybe he was still fragile and they felt telling him before he was ready would be harmful. The facility was top notch, one of the best in the country. They were the experts, he wasn't. He pushed the nagging thought away and made his way home.
"Alright Sister, just calm down!" Vivian ordered, putting both hands up. "Put the gun down!"
"Don't tell me what to do!" Theresa screamed, one hand clutching her head and the other waving the pistol wildly. "Everyone's always telling me what to do. I know what to do... stop yelling at me... stop... stop... no more."
"Alright, alright!" Vivian lowered her voice and kept her guarded eyes on the distraught and clearly unstable woman and the loaded gun that she waved in front of her. . "I'm just going to check on him, okay?"
"Okay... but... just... just..." Theresa stammered, totally panicked. Pete wouldn't like this, not one bit.
"I'm okay," Danny whispered, clutching his bleeding thigh.
"No you're not," Vivian replied, trying to peel his fingers away,"You're bleeding all over the floor. Let me see, Danny. Let go."
"It's a graze?" he asked hopefully, gritting his teeth at the burning pain engulfing his leg.
"Yeah, but a bad one, it's deep." She put pressure on it and thought on the nun's medical background. "Maybe she can help, she's a medical nun."
"She's a whack job waving a gun!" Danny hissed, pulling away. "No thanks."
"You don't have a choice, Danny. You could bleed to death," Vivian replied
"What are you talking about?" Theresa asked, her eyes narrowing.
You, they're talking about you... whispering... you... about you...."
"Are you talking about me?" She repeated what the voices told her. "Stop it. Stop talking about me. I'm not crazy!'
"No, you're not," Vivian lied and turned back. '"As a matter of fact, you're the only one who can help Danny.He's hurt badly and his leg needs tending. You have to help him, Sister, it's your duty."
"Duty?" she whispered, hearing her lost friend's voice. Sister Michael would know what to do, she always did. There was a medical room down the hall, which Pete set up in case of emergency. It was fully stocked. "I can help... I can help..."
"Yes, that's right, Vivian oozed, eyeing Danny's pasty complexion. The eyes fluttered and he began to slide sideways. She slapped his face. "Don't you pass out on me, Danny. Can you stand?"
"Yeah... gimme... a... minute..."
"Just him!" Theresa snapped the gun back up as soon as the young man was on his feet. "Down the hall, move!"
"Okay, okay, just keep that damn thing away from me, you already got a big enough piece of my hide," Danny noted and limped away.
"You!" She motioned to Vivian. "Get back in that room, now!"
"Alright," Vivian agreed, not liking the glazed eyes.
Danny turned to her then and behind the nun's back nodded his head once. He'd find a way to get back and free her. She walked back into the room and the wall slid shut. She sighed once and eyed the blood on her hands. While she washed them in the sink, she saw the blood swirling and disappearing into the drain. She only prayed that their hopes didn't wash away as well.
The dramatic lodge boasted a fabulous view of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains. It was the only waterfront hotel in Seattle and offered dramatic views of the Elliot Bay which it overlooked.
Martin Fitzgerald made his way through the impressive lobby; its overstuffed chairs and rock-housed fireplace creating a unique atmosphere. He stifled a yawn and tried to shake off the lethargic feeling left over from the night before. One of the perks of working undercover as part of a team designed to take down the largest Idenity Theft Ring on the West Coast was dating the boss's daughter. Maddie Perrault was a ravishing redhead with a temper that matched her flame colored hair. She was a spoiled, only daughter to the man behind the crime and Martin had been seeing her for two months. She'd gotten her claws into him his first day on the job. He was bending over to plug in his computer, when she grabbed his ass and whispered something very dirty in his ear. He'd been warned about her, he had a whole background on the Perraults and their operation. She was said to be a wild young woman totally without restraint. Fending off her rather forward advances had proven difficult. He broke into a cocky grin as he approached the elevator. He thought back on the night before and the marks she'd left on his neck after a rather rough cab ride from the Italian restaurant they'd dined in.
He'd fended off her hands, teeth and tongue as best he could and crawled into his bed at two a.m. He'd been up and out early, getting to the office long before the others. He was Jacque Perrault's new , fair-haired boy, a wonder kid with the magic touch. He'd already suggested two ways to improve their system and gotten the pat on the back from the old man.
He entered the restaurant and admired the room before him. Just the right blend of wood, steel and stone with floor to ceiling windows gave the a Northwest feel to the Asian fusion restaurant. It was a favorite of his; the food and view were outstanding. His keen eyes skimmed the room and he saw Jacques and three of the other board members at a table. They were enjoying drinks and appetizers at the best table in the house. The old man stood up and waved him over.
"Martin, you're early," Perrault offered. "I have a favor. I left my cane up in the room. My hip's really bothering me today. Would you be so kind?" He gave the key over and flicked his eyes at his watch. "The meeting won't start for another twenty minutes. That should give you plenty of time. Oh and could you call Denise?" He noted of his secretary. "Tell her we won't be back until four or so and to cancel my dentist appointment."
"Yes, sir," Martin took the key and sauntered to the elevator.
Perrault trusted him; they always did. Although his looks and charm were tools that made his job working undercover easy, white collar crime was beginning to bore him. Three years was about two too many. He'd had his heart set on working for Jack Malone. He didn't understand how he missed out; he felt he had excellent qualifications. Often when he went back East to visit his folks, he'd hear his father complaining about Malone and his 'unconventional' methods. Victor called Malone a 'loose- cannon' and it always gave Martin a guilty pleasure that Malone could work his father's nerves. He'd done his research; Malone headed up the most successful Missing Person's Unit on the East Coast. He kept track of the cases and when he heard they needed a man for the team, he couldn't get his paperwork done fast enough. It was only a temporary setback; he fully intended to become a member of Malone's squad. He unlocked the door and moved into the large suite. He spotted the phone and made the call first. Then he hung up and walked over to the living area. He spotted the heavy blackthorn cane and picked it up. Before he had a chance to turn around, a pair of very talented hands wrapped around his waist. He turned around to find Venus before him wearing only a very sly smile.
"What are you doing here?" Martin asked, before a pair of sultry lips assaulted him.
"I'm lonely..." Maddie replied, tugging on his belt. She pushed him onto the sofa and straddled him, kissing him again and then moving her talented teeth to the spot just under his ear. "I'm hungry."
"You're crazy!" Martin snapped. "What if your father walked in? You're supposed to be in class."
"I am in class," she pouted, then knelt before him, tugging the zipper down. "I'm a naughty girl, Professor."
"I can't, Maddie," Martin groaned and pushed her away. "Your father is waiting."
"Let him wait," she purred, casting doe-eyes up at the handsome man and taking his hand. She kissed the palm and then suckled the index finger, getting the groan she intended.
"Shit!" Martin hissed, losing control. His beeper went off and he moved from beneath her. "Saved by the bell," he mumbled, adjusting himself and zipping up. He froze in place when he saw the numbers. He didn't feel the hand working his thigh nor the lips that nuzzled his neck. "This is important, I gotta take it." He grabbed the cane and turned back, giving her a hard kiss and caressing her smooth skin. "You get to class, we'll catch up later."
"I'm very angry with you," she sulked, grabbing his crotch. "You'll pay for this."
"I hope so," Martin grinned, pulled away and took off into the hallway.
The anxious agent took the elevator and exited on the ground level. Walking quickly through the lobby, he spotted a phone on the wall by the restrooms. Ducking behind a large plant, he quickly dialed the number. His heart was pounding so hard he swore it would jump out of his chest. Then the voice answered and he was dumbstruck for a moment. He prayed it was the call he'd been waiting for.
"Agent Malone"
'Uh, Hi... Hello, it's Martin Fitzgerald."
"Martin." Jack sat back at his desk, playing with paperclips and eyeing the morning sun streaming in the windows. It was a bright and very beautiful day, one he felt represented a new start. The dawn he hoped would mean the beginning of something very good; a new team, a new future. "It's about the job, it's yours if you still want it."
"You're kidding right?" Martin rasped, raking a hand through his hair. "Hell, yeah I want it. But I thought the position was filled."
"It didn't work out," Jack tossed the string of clips aside and Nick DiSipio's ghost left the room. "So when can you start?"
"I'm gonna need a few weeks, I'm in the middle of an ID theft case, a big one. I'm close..."
"Yeah, I heard, I talked to your father. Sounds like you're quite the white collar whiz kid."
"Don't remind me," Martin groaned. "I want more, Agent Malone, a lot more. I'm stifled here."
"Okay, hot shot, we'll see what you have." Jack waved to Chris Boone who'd entered his outer office." I spoke with Max this morning," he noted of Martin's boss from the Seattle office, "he's He's up to date. You call me when you're ready."
"You got it." Martin was almost giddy. "Agent Malone? Listen, I want to thank you. You won't be disappointed."
"I hope not," Jack noted, "See you in a few weeks, Fitzgerald."
"Hot damn!" Martin whispered and triumphantly fisted a hand. Then he ducked into the men's room, washed his face and collected himself.He put his game face on and resumed his role as Martin Baker, systems analyst extraordinaire.
Jack hung the phone up and felt a mixture of sadness and relief. He was relieved that he finally had the right man for his team. But his sadness over the very tragedy that was Nick DiSipio would take a while to digest. A part of him felt he hadn't pushed strong enough early on to get the kid out. Maybe if he had, Nick would have been spared the nervous breakdown that ensued. But this was a new day, a new start and time to move on. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out the folder he'd so carefully tucked away. He signed the papers and slipped them into the interoffice memo for the HR Department. Then he picked up the photo and made his way into the outer office.
"Hey Chris," he greeted his peer on another team and a good friend.
"I just heard," Boone returned, eyeing the photo. "You got the First Draft pick huh?"
"We'll see," Jack replied. "I hope this time I get it right."
"Nick wasn't your fault, Jack, you tried," Chris consoled. "This kid's got the right stuff, I know Max Dennison, he's tough. I worked with him in St. Louis. He took the kid right out of the academy and he's worked with him for three years now. He's good, Jack, Max says all the kid needs is grooming."
"In other words, he's green," Jack sighed and eyed the trio waiting for him in the conference room."I hate green."
"Don't we all," Chris teased and clapped the disgruntled team leader's back. "Old timer."
"Fuck you, Boone," Jack tossed back as the handsome blond agent left for his own office.
"What's up boss?" Danny looked up from the crime scene photos he was studying when Malone entered.
Jack laid the photo down and watched as all three bent to examine it. "This is Martin Fitzgerald, he'll be joining our team in a few weeks. He's working undercover in Seattle, white collar unit wrapping up an ID Theft Ring case."
"He's easy on the eyes," Sam noted of the handsome, blue-eyed young man.
"Very easy," Vivian agreed.
"I'll bet he has a tattoo on his ass, 'made by Mattel'," Taylor's sarcasm was met with a trio of chuckles. "Fitzgerald?" he puzzled and eyed Jack. "He related to Victor?"
"His son."
"You're kidding!" Danny replied, shaking his head in misery. "Great, a lightweight. Just what we need."
"Daddy's fair haired, little boy," Vivian shook her head. "Jack, are you sure?"
"No wonder he's in Seattle," Sam scoffed. "White collar crime? It might as well be Palm Springs."
"Are you three done?" Jack cast a sharp eye on the group. "I picked him, he's been my choice all along. Deputy Director Fitzgerald had nothing to do with my choice. And whatever you think about his father, that's not his fault. Give him a fair chance, don't be so prejudiced."
"Okay." Sam backed off and put her hands up in defense. She and Vivian resumed their phone log work and Jack picked up the report sent by the lab to review.
"Hmmph!" Danny growled lightly, picking the photo up. He eyed the clean cut, chiseled face that screamed Ivy League. "Jack's no fool, that's for sure. But I'm still keepin' an eye on you, Harvard."
Martin inched his way through the twisting tunnels inside the heating duct. He paused several times to rest his head, which was throbbing intensely, making it hard to keep focused. The sweat poured off him, causing him to blink rapidly as it ran into his eyes. He cursed whatever bug he'd picked up, leaving him feverish and with a bad throat. Two more openings were ahead and he paused, eyeing both empty rooms. He had no idea how long it would take to find the right one. He heard voices and his ears pricked up.
"...still... sting... dizzy..."
It was a woman's voice which was followed by a sharp cry of pain.
"Danny?"
He inched along faster, using his elbows and knees and worming quickly through the dark path. He saw a light shining from the grate before him and paused, peering downward. Danny Taylor was lying on an examination table stripped of everything but a pair of briefs. Both hands were strapped down at the wrist, the ankles were bound as well. His right thigh was covered in blood and there was a middle-aged dark-haired woman washing the wound with a bloody rag. Twice she moved to the sink, tossing bloody water away and returning. Then she picked up a silver tool and began to prod at the wound. He flinched when Danny cried out again and his own fisted curled up in pain as his partner's did.
"I'm sorry this hurts so much, but you shouldn't have hollered at me," she defended, picking out more debris.
"Sis...ter..." Danny grit, trying to fight the urge to pass out. He'd lost blood and it was making it very hard to stay awake. "...listen... to... me. You need to call the police... before... Gib..son... gets..."
"I told you not to tell me what to do!"
"Okay... okay..." Danny winced; he'd made a bad choice. The silver sharp tool was inches from his eyes. He swallowed hard and felt sweat pooling behind his neck.
Martin held his breath and waited. He couldn't risk unscrewing the grate now, she'd hear him and he was too far away. She was unstable and could accidentally stab Danny. Also the gun was peeking out from her pocket. If she felt threatened enough, she'd shoot before he got through the opening. No, he'd have to sit and wait until she left. Then he could free Danny. Besides, the jagged wound on his thigh needed stitching. So he bit back his frustration and waited in the dark.
"I'm sorry," Danny managed, his eyes never leaving the sharp thing held so closely in front of him. Finally she retreated and he exhaled sharply. He felt a prick on his arm and turned sharply as a needle was inserted. "What's that? What... are... you... doing?"
"It's for infection, it'll help," she said and picked up a bottle of antiseptic. She paused over the open wound. "I've taken out as much debris as I could find. This will hurt but it's necessary. Then I'll stitch your leg and bandage it."
"Okay," Danny agreed, not wishing to push her again.He pressed his head flat back and clenched his eyes waiting for the pain.
The scream caused Martin to back up in his hiding spot overhead and cheek to slam against the wall . The echo of Danny's cry of agony ripped through the very core of him. It took several moments before he peered through the grate again. The nun's hand was moving with a needle and thread. He flicked his eyes to Danny who was lying motionless, apparently passed out from the pain. So he waited patiently while she finished her job and securely bandaged the leg. Then she pulled a cotton sheet up to his neck and moved to the sink. He watched her wash her hands and put every tool into a basin of foamy hot water. Then she dried her hands and moved to the door. Martin's eyes never left her hand as she typed in the numbers on a digital panel.
The pain ebbed and flowed just like the tide. The semi-conscious man thought that was ironic; that they were close to the ocean and he was feeling similar tidal effects. He sighed hard and tugged weakly at his bonds. He thought maybe when she came back, he'd tell her he had to go to the bathroom. Once he got free he'd jump her, if she returned before Gibson got back. But what if she didn't? Danny muttered in frustration at his predicament.
"Nearly naked, tied down and locked in a room by a mad nun."
It didn't get much worse. He laid back and tried to ignore the pulsating pain in his leg. It pounded in even rhythm, leaving a burning sensation down his leg. A sound caused his heavy eyes to open. He peered through blurry vision at a body upside down suspended from the ceiling. A man's upper torso was emerging. The blurriness cleared long enough to allow him to focus on a familiar set of features.
"Great!" he rasped, shaking his damp head. "What the hell was in that shot she gave me? Now I'm hallucinatin'."
"Thanks, Taylor, I'm glad to see you too." Martin pulled the sheet off and eyed a cabinet nearby. He'd seen the nun open it to get towels and had glimpsed some orange material in there. Sure enough, there were clean jumpsuits folded at the bottom. He took one out, examined the size and moved back to the table.
"Harvard?" Danny's voice caught he was so stunned that the 'dream' was now unlocking his restraints. "Where the hell did you come from?
"You should have been paying attention in Biology class," Martin chased back and helped the wounded agent sit up. He lost his smile then and cupped the back of Danny's head. He met those brown eyes head on and swallowed hard. How many nights had he he dreamed about Danny's death? "You look like shit, partner," he choked hard as a half grin formed on the other man's face. Not just any grin, that damned, cocky, Taylor special.
"I missed you too." Danny took Martin's forearm in a brotherhood lock and nodded once, trying to chase the guilty face away. "Vivian's down the hall, we gotta get outta here. "
"She okay? I was outside and heard the shot." Martin got both of Taylor's legs in the legs of the jumpsuit and eased the wounded man down. He grunted when his back took Danny's full weight but tugged the suit up. Once Danny got his arms inside, he zipped it.
"Yeah, that nun is whacko... she's hearing voices..."
"Armed and dangerous." Martin eyed the room. "No phone?" He saw Danny's eyes go to the cellphone on his waist. "No good, Gibson's got interference up."
"You know about him?" Danny took the container of juice that Martin had taken from a small refrigerator by the lab table. He took a long swig as Martin made his way to the sink.
"Yeah, he's gonna kill Jack. He's been using me all along."
"I know, man, I've had to watch it on the damned screens in my prison cell in full color." He got angry again as the offensive pictures reappeared. "I'm gonna slick that pig from his neck to his balls."
Martin paused then, with a glass of water in his hand and captured the heat coming from Taylor's eyes. It felt good, damned good to have someone take up your back like that. He drained the water and filled up twice more. He gasped slightly and swayed as the room seemed to tilt for a moment. He grabbed the sink and heard Danny limp up to him. He jerked his head but not fast enough.
"You're burning up. How'd you get here? What happened?"
"Sick?" Martin shrugged, "I guess I picked some bug up. The 'how' is a long story and we don't have time. Jack knows about Gibson, Boone too, but nobody else. I knew he was doing this, but I have no proof. I couldn't blow the whistle on him until I knew you and Vivian were safe. He'd have killed you."
"Where's Jack now?" Danny asked as they made their way to the door. "It's locked, she uses numbers."
"I know." Fitzgerald deftly pushed the right combination. "Us white-collar lightweights have all kinds of unseen talent."
"Yeah," Danny cuffed the back of the damp curling head. "I know. In case I forgot, thanks."
"We're not out of here yet, partner," Martin replied, helping his injured friend into the hall." Which way is the control room? We need a radio or phone."
"It's not this way," Danny noted jerking his head behind him. "It's gotta be ahead." He limped slowly behind Fitzgerald as they made their way down the hall. There was a single door with a very complicated alarm system attached to it.
"Locked," Martin jerked the knob.
"And armed!" Danny finished.
"Okay, I can climb back up into the vent and try to find it the hard way. "
"Yeah and you could get your Ivy League ass lost for hours in that vent," Danny dismissed. "Or you'll pop your head down in there and she'll shoot it off."
"That's a chance we gotta take," Martin replied turning back to head back to the medical room and the open vent.
"No, we don't," Danny said softly, pulling the arm back. "We get Vivian and get the hell out. You got a car?"
"It's out back, I hid it in the woods. We're near the shore, not far from Route 9 outside Atlantic City."
"Okay, but Jack knows we're here. He'll bring the..." Danny paused when Martin's head dropped. "Aw, shit. He don't know you're here?"
"Yeah... no..." Martin huffed in annoyance. "I found this place and tried to call him, but Gisbon's got a field up, the cell won't go through. He'll find the old guy at the gas station, that's how I found you. He'll be here, come on."
Vivian's head came up when a voice called to her from the other side of the wall. Frowning, she walked over and pressed her head to the wall.
"Vivian? Can you hear me?"
"Martin?" She didn't hide her shock. "How did you get here? Is Jack with you?"
"No, I'm alone. There isn't time to talk. I'm trying to get you out. I got Danny with me."
"Is he okay?"
"I'm fine, all stitched up." Danny called from the floor and tapped the wall with his hand.
"Martin, there's no control panel. She's wearing the remote, it's in her pocket. You can only unlock this with the device she has. I've been watching her on the monitor and she's on the verge of cracking up. She's pacing like crazy in the control room. You can't afford to get caught. You need to take Danny and get help. If you get caught in here, we could die, Jack included. You need to go now."
"Not without you," Martin disagreed.
"She's right, Martin," Danny conceded. "Hell, I'm lucky she didn't kill me. If she comes back she could shoot us or lock us up."
"Or Gibson could walk in," Vivian added. "I'm the senior agent here. I'm ordering you two to leave. Leave now!"
"Alright, I'll take Danny down to Route 9 and radio for help, then I'm coming back. I'll be less than an hour, Vivian," Martin vowed.
"Good luck," Vivian sent through the wall and moved back to the bunk. For some reason she shivered as a chill ran through her. She wasn't superstitious but felt as if someone had walked over her grave.
It didn't take as long as he thought. Martin got Danny back in the vent and they quickly crawled through the maze. They landed back in the boiler room, with him helping the injured man to a crate to rest. He knelt down and examined the wound. There was a zipper on the jumpsuit by Danny's thigh and he pulled it down to examine the wound and felt his hand slapped.
"You didn't even buy me dinner," Danny managed, his head swimming."Pawin'... me... like... cheap... meat..."
"I'm fevered, not desperate," Martin retorted, glad to find the wound not seeping. The bandage was good and strong. He zipped the fabric back up and began his search.
He left the wheezing agent long enough to scope scout the room. He found a ladder and moved it under the chute that he'd ridden down. He climbed up to the top rung but he was still about four feet short of the opening. Then he remembered the other door. He eased his body down the rungs and moved through the boxes around the room.
"You still with me, Danny?" he called out, trying to keep the semi-conscious man alert.
"...better... offer... come... along..."
"Thanks, I'll take that as a compliment," Martin answered and quickly found the trap door. He moved several boxes, forming a mock mountain. It would be a very tricky climb but his experience as a rock climber would help. He could climb up to the very top, pop the door and get out. Then he'd lower a rope and haul Danny through the chute where the ladder was. He quickly came back and found Taylor fading fast.
"Hey!" Martin tapped the face and two slits appeared. "Listen up. I gotta climb all the way to the top and through a small door. Then," he paused and pointed to the chute above their head, "I'm gonna call down to you from up there. You climb that ladder and take the rope. I'll pull you out, got it?"
"Hur...ry..."
"Will do," Martin replied, climbing up his mock mountain. He shoved the broken trap door open and hauled his body through. He sucked in the fresh air and rested his face for a moment on the grass. Then he took a good gulp of air and sprinted for the car. He got a rope out of the trunk and made his way back to the chute. He tied the rope to a steel support beam and lowered his head down into the chute where he spied Danny's foot by the base of the ladder. "Danny?" He called out and got no answer. "Danny!"
"Yeah... here..." The dizzy agent slurred, shook off the black curtain falling and stood up. He gingerly made his way up the ladder, using his good leg and dragging the bad one. He hooked the rope around his upper body and let his partner pull him up.
Martin eased Danny out and collapsed, his chest heaving from the effort. The fever left him weak and lightheaded. Danny's weight took all the extra strength he had. It took a good five minutes to regain his lost stamina. He moved his hand over and patted Danny's chest.
"...with me..."
"...yeah..."
Martin forced his ailing body into motion. He sat up, got Danny up and took the rope off. Then he stood up and regained his balance. He was dizzy and felt sick, whatever bug got a hold of him was a strong one. He felt a wave pass over him and almost passed out. But he took a few breaths and it passed. He turned to see how far the car was and if it would be better to back up and bring it to Danny. But the car wasn't in his line of vision. Something large and lethal was and he didn't have time to react before his face exploded.
"Well, well, look what the wind blew in," Pete Gibson growled, unleashing a solid right and sending Martin Fitzgerald flying into the side of the building.
Prelude | Page 1 | Page 2 | Page 3 | Page 4 | Page 5 | Page 6 | Page 7 | Page 8 | Page 9 | Page 10 | Page 11 | Page 12 | Page 13 | Page 14 | Page 15 | Page 16 | Page 17 | Page 18 | Page 19 | Page 20 | Page 21 | Page 22 | Page 23 | Page 24 | Page 25 | Page 26 | Page 27 | Page 28 | Page 29 | Page 30 | Page 31
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