by K Ryn
Disclaimer: The usual. Wish the major characters were mine but they're not. I'll lay claim to the kids though.
Author's Notes:
A quick thank you to those who have written me and asked for -- demanded -- a new piece. There's a story-within-a-story in this one, so watch for it when it comes around. (g) Hope that satisfies your requests.
Just a few visual clues:
·Phone conversations are indicated by '//' (the 'other' end of the line).
·Indented passages indicate the story-within-the-story.
My heartfelt thanks to Carolyn, who keeps me on my toes and corrects my obvious mistakes before you get a chance to see them. And to Linda, whose sharp eye and flattery keep me writing.
Calling the Beasts
by
K. Ryn
.
Jim Ellison jabbed the escape key on his keyboard and watched the image on the computer monitor reset to the previous menu. He frowned, leaned forward, studied the options and typed in another command. When yet another dialog box appeared, flashing 'bad command or file name', he growled in frustration and sagged back in his chair, glaring at the screen.
Unfortunately, the angry expression which had often caused the most hardened criminals to crack and spew their secrets had no effect on the fifty-some pounds of hardware perched on his desk. Jim glanced around the bullpen and saw Henri Brown staring at his own monitor. He didn't look happy either.
H? Have you been able to access the NCIC files this morning?
Brown shook his head in exasperation. No. I can't get to half of our own data, either. Not since the new software upgrade was loaded to the system.
Great, Jim muttered. You'd think they'd test the new version to make sure it worked before they dumped it on us. How the hell are we supposed to get anything done?
I called tech support almost two hours ago, but I wouldn't hold your breath on their showing up soon. Too bad Hair Boy's not here, Henri observed. He could probably figure this stuff out.
Jim grunted. While no slouch on the computer himself, he preferred pounding the pavement over pounding the keyboard. Blair, on the other hand, was much more comfortable with the technology. The brilliant grad student had an affinity for coaxing the most stubborn system or software into action. Privately, Jim believed that it was partly a matter of one kind of artificial intelligence recognizing another. But there was also another reason for his partner's apparently amazing success with the machines.
I don't think even Sandburg could find his way through this mess. But you're right, it's too bad he's not here. We'd be up and running in no time.
Brown looked puzzled.
He's got you snowed, too, huh? Jim shook his head. Think about it, H... what percentage of the IS department is female?
There was a short pause, then a chuckle of laughter from Brown. So that's his secret. Sweet talk the support staff. I'll have to remember that.
Jim's desk phone rang and he answered it absently, his glare once again targeted on the blinking screen.
Ellison.
// Jim? Oh, man, am I ever glad to hear your voice. Your real voice, I mean, not your 'please leave a message' voice-mail voice... //
Despite his foul mood, a smile lifted the corner of the detective's mouth at the sound of his partner's voice and breathless, rapid-fire delivery. The speed at which Blair Sandburg could talk was sometimes, but not always, proportional to the amount of information he had to divulge. After nearly three years of working and living together, Jim had a better handle on interpreting his friend's run-on sentences, but he still hadn't mastered it. Often it was a matter of letting the grad student roll until he ran out of breath, and then backtracking to find the kernel of wisdom that was hidden somewhere in the previous five minutes of chatter.
Movement at the edge of Jim's peripheral vision and the faint scent of cigars warned the detective of his captain's approach. He nodded an acknowledgment as Simon Banks came to a halt next to his desk and quickly interrupted the anthropologist's rambling patter.
Well, it's good to hear your voice, too, Sweetheart, Jim drawled. Simon raised an eyebrow at the endearment and Ellison grinned, mouthing 'Sandburg', and making 'talking' motions with his right hand in explanation. It's been less than an hour since I dropped you at the museum, Chief. What'd you do? Forget something at home or in the truck?
//Huh? No... no, I've got everything I need for the session with the kids, it's just that something unexpected came up and... //
Jim groaned, thinking that he knew where this conversation was going. For the past seven weeks, Blair had spent Thursday mornings at the Shraeder Field Museum working with a small group of third grade children. In an effort to interest a younger audience in the marvels of antiquity, the museum's board of directors had established a special seminar program. When they'd approached Rainier University with a request for help staffing the project, one of Blair's professors had immediately volunteered him for the job.
At first, the Sentinel had been irked that still another demanding task had been dumped in his overburdened Guide's lap, but the grad student's reaction had cooled that irritation. Blair had been overjoyed at the prospect of guiding young minds and after each session with the kids, he'd positively glowed with satisfaction.
Jim knew that the museum board couldn't have found a better candidate -- if anyone could make musty old relics interesting to a group of eight year-olds, it was his partner. Blair's energy and enthusiasm for life, and its wonders, was infectious -- and he was a terrific teacher, no matter how old his audience. The anthropologist had been especially excited about today's session, something to do with shamans and power animals. He'd even slyly suggested that Jim might want to sit in and learn something new, or better yet, add his own insights to the discussion. Ellison had turned down the invitation, but now he was sure that Blair was trying to find another way to get him involved.
Don't even ask, Sandburg, Jim growled. You're going to have to tap dance your way through today's presentation without me. I've already done one stint as your guest lecturer and we both know how that turned out. He shifted the phone, cradling it between his left ear and shoulder so that he'd have both hands free.
// Hey, man, that wasn't my fault. This isn't about the kids... well, in a way it is, but isn't... It's about the other exhibit... the one with the incredible pre-Colombian masks and relics that I was telling you about the other night... I was thinking that right now would be a perfect time for you to come down and check it out. //
Traveling the Sandburg Zone without a road map took time and patience, neither of which Ellison had in abundance at the moment. Look, Chief, Jim stabbed at the keyboard with his right hand and reached up to take the folders that Banks held out to him with the other. I'm in the middle of a battle with that new software the eggheads in tech services installed, up to my ears in paperwork on that string of jewelry store heists -- He glanced at the files his captain had just given him and grimaced. And Simon's just graciously presented me with three more cases.
// Simon's there? // Blair's tone brightened. // Good. Bring him. Brown and Rafe, too. And maybe even the SWAT team if they're available... //
The SWAT team? Jim shook his head. You had to admire the kid's persistence. Good try, Chief, but I'll pass.
// I could really use your help here, man. //
Jim hesitated. There was something in the younger man's voice that was starting to set off alarm bells in the Sentinel's head. Still, he wouldn't put it past his partner to try almost anything to get his way. What's the matter, professor? Having problems managing a handful of eight year-olds?
// They may be a challenge at times, but at least they listen to me, // Blair retorted.
The emphasis wasn't lost on the Sentinel. Dialin
g up his sense of hearing, he concentrated on the sounds coming across the line. Blair's rapidly thumping heartbeat and ragged breathing made Jim sit upright in his chair and take a firmer grip on the phone. Replaying the sense memory of his Guide's last comment, the Sentinel noticed something else -- there was an odd echo to the younger man's words, as if he were in a small, enclosed space.
Sandburg, what's going on? Where are you, exactly?
There was a long, discouraged sigh and then Blair's whispered response.
// Where I frequently am, man. In the middle of trouble. Only this time, I'm not alone. //
// Talk to me, Chief. //
Blair leaned his head back against the cool wall of the museum's restroom and felt the panic that had sent him flying into the tiled refuge recede to a workable level. He'd managed to reach Jim. The knowledge that his Sentinel would shortly be headed to the rescue made everything easier to handle. He took a deep breath and tried to make his explanation as concise as possible.
Because I caught a ride in with you, I ended up with a half hour to kill before the kids arrived. I decided to take another look at that pre-Columbian exhibit. Since it was so early, it was just me and the artifacts, which was great. It's been so packed with people all the other times I've been here that I hadn't had a chance to really check things out.
//Hold up a second, Chief. Is that the visiting exhibit that the museum put in the special security system for? //
Yeah... it was either that or pay a small fortune, no, make that a huge fortune for insurance coverage. The relics are priceless, man and not just from an antiquities perspective. There's a gold Chimu funerary mask inset with precious stones that are as big as my fist, not to mention the gold and silver jewelry and metalwork. Guess the board of directors figured that one-point- five mill for a security system and some renovations was cheaper than what Lloyd's of London wanted... Anyway, I spent about fifteen minutes looking around before I discovered that I wasn't alone anymore. There were six other guys scoping things out, and at least one of them looked vaguely familiar. That's when I realized they were all wearing trench coats. Long trench coats...
// Chief, this is Cascade. Wearing a trench coat is hardly a crime. //
Ordinarily I'd agree with you, Jim, but I'm pretty sure that it wasn't an umbrella I saw sticking out from underneath one of the men's coats.
It didn't require enhanced senses to hear his partner's sharp intake of breath.
// Blair, are you telling me these guys are armed? //
I'm a lot more conversant on weaponry since I started riding with you, Jim, Blair answered with a shudder. What I saw looked like the business end of a semi-automatic rifle. I think they're here to rob the exhibit.
Where are they now? Are you --
I'm okay, man. They haven't done anything yet. They're still in the exhibit hall... at least I think they're still there. Hold on a second.
// Sandburg! //
When there was no immediate response, Jim's eyes flashed up to meet his captain's.
We've got a robbery about to go down at the Shraeder Field Museum, Simon. Six suspects, at least one of them armed.
Is Sandburg still inside? Banks shook his head and sighed when Jim nodded. Why does that not surprise me? Is he okay?
Sounds like it. Scared, but in one piece so far.
Let's keep it that way, Simon growled. Get whatever details you can from him, while I start things moving. Banks cleared his throat and then his voice rang out, cutting through the ambient noise in the bullpen. Listen up people, we have a situation...
Jim nodded. Grabbing a pad of paper and a pen, he waited impatiently for his partner to get back on the line.
// Sandburg... //
Blair ignored the irritated tone in Jim's voice and slid closer to the restroom door. Opening it slightly, he peered through the crack. From his position, he could see into the inner exhibit chamber. He took a quick look and shut the door before he was spotted.
At least four of them are still there, Jim, he reported in a whisper. Blair edged away from the door and moved toward the far end of the restroom, hoping that his side of the conversation wasn't carrying out of the room. I'm not sure about the other two, I can't see them.
// Where are you? It sounds like you're talking from inside of a well. //
I'm in the restroom, man... you know, my favorite refuge when faced with armed goons. Blair immediately wished he hadn't evoked that particular memory. Naturally, being the observer of human nature that I am, I couldn't help checking these guys out. When I realized that at least one of them had a gun and that they were definitely as interested in the security set-up as they were in the displays, I decided it was time to make myself scarce. Unfortunately, Amanda, the TA that's been helping me out, and the kids showed up just then. There was no way to herd them out without making the creeps suspicious, so I sent them off to the classroom, grabbed my cell and ducked in here.
// Sandburg, I want you to alert building security and get your butt out of there, now, // the Sentinel ordered.
I'd love to oblige you, Jim, but there are a few problems with that scenario. The first is that building security consists of the fancy-ass electronic system that the museum installed so that they wouldn't have to rely on fallible human beings. The only rent-a-cop they've got prowling the corridors is a kid that looks about ten years younger than me. I'm not even sure he's got a gun, much less knows how to use it.
The second is that the bad guys are between me and the only way out. The exhibit's in the same wing as the room we're using for the seminars -- in fact you have to go through the main display area to get to the classrooms and the museum offices.
Blair forced himself to take a deep breath before plunging on, anticipating his partner's reaction to what he was about to say. The third, and most important, is that I'm not alone, remember? I've got Amanda and eight kids to think about, not to mention the rest of the staff and whoever else is here. I can't just leave them behind. Nor do I feel all too confident about trying to parade the children out under their noses. Call me paranoid, but I don't think these guys are going to let anyone back in this area leave. I think they chose today to hit the exhibit for a reason --
// Because of the kids. They wanted hostages available in case things went down wrong, // Jim said grimly. //Blair, you said that you thought one of the men looked familiar... //
Yeah... I've been trying to place him, but... oh man! Blair froze, hardly breathing as the echoes of his near shout reverberated off the tile floors and walls.
//Chief! What is it? What's going on? //
Blair's stomach was still half-way up his throat when he finally answered his partner's urgent queries. No one had come storming in, but he dropped his voice to a whisper that only a sentinel could hear. Jim, it's the guys you've been looking for... the ones involved in the jewelry store holdups. The man with the gun matches the description that the witnesses from the last two robberies gave us --
//You mean Gavin Hennesey? Sandburg, are you sure? //
Blair gave an exasperated snort. Jim, I've been staring at that creep's description and picture in the files for weeks. No wonder he looked familiar. I just didn't place him at first -- out of context, you know? Jeez, things just went from bad to worse in a hurry, didn't they...
// Just sit tight, Blair. I'm on my way with help. //
Jim, I can't sit tight. I know how you drive, man, but it's still going to take some time for you and the cavalry to get here and get set up. We don't know when these guys are going to make their move. Wait... what time is it?
// Almost 9:15. //
The first guided tour of the day starts at 10:00 a.m., Blair murmured. If these guys have done the kind of research on this hit that they did on the others, they'd know that. Maybe that's what they're waiting for. They'd have a whole room of hostages to use as leverage if the turnout to see the exhibit is as good as it has been the last few weeks. Blair shook off the horrifying image of the bloodbath that could ea
sily occur if things went sour. Jim, I have to get back to Amanda and the kids before they come looking for me. Right now they don't have any idea of what's going down and I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible.
// I understand that, but I don't want you thinking you have to play hero, Chief.
Blair chuckled nervously. Hey, why do you think I called you? That's your department, Jim. I'm just the sidekick, remember?
// How about you just stick to Observer on this one? //
I'd be my pleasure, Blair assured his worried partner.
// Okay. Simon's rounding up the troops as we speak. I need some idea of the layout so we know what we're walking into. //
Blair bowed his head and closed his eyes, picturing the floorplan of the museum in his mind. The exhibit's in the west wing. You have to go through the central arcade to reach it. There are two rooms. The first one's pretty big -- roughly sixty feet deep. Cross that space and there's an entrance that leads to a smaller room. That's where the most valuable pieces are displayed -- also where Hennesey and three of his friends are currently camped out.
//'The other two are probably in the main room, // Jim suggested.
Maybe, or maybe I just can't see them from the doorway of the restroom, Blair murmured dubiously. On the left side of the smaller room is an opening that leads onto a short, T-shaped corridor. Turn right and go about ten feet and you get to the restroom where I am now. You turn left to reach the classrooms. The one we're using is the second door on the right-hand side of the hallway.
// What about the administrative offices? Where are they? //
There's another T-shaped corridor that's accessed from the other side of the inner display chamber. It's the same layout as this side. Blair shook his head and sighed. Only one way in and out, man. // What about windows or an emergency exit? //
There's nothing on this side. I think I remember a fire exit near the Director's office, though. Blair opened his eyes and let his gaze drift around the small enclosed space, as if seeking an exit that he might have missed before. A glimmer of light caught his eye. It took him a second to identify what he was seeing.
