Hot Time in Chicago

by Cindy Combs

  Author's notes: This story is a part of my The Sentinel/MacGyver series, following Heirs to a Nightmare. Since the relationships between Blair, MacGyver, and Sam are drawn in those stories, you may wish to read them first. I have also included the shows of Due South, Early Edition, and Father Dowling Mysteries into the mix. Since everyone is in the Windy city, figured I might as well invite them all to the party!

  A small piece of this story was originally posted under Laura Picken's Birthday challenge last March under the title, 'When Worlds Collide'. However, with all the season enders, things were left pretty mixed up this summer. Thus, I have had to come up with theories and, in some instances, end runs to set up this story. For The Sentinel, I am assuming with the rest of the fandom that Blair is 'just damp', that things will be resolved in a satisfactory manner in the second part of 'Sentinel, Too' (whenever we get to see it), and go on from there. With Early Edition, I am still in shock that Chuck left, so I will assume this story happens before he moves to LA. With Due South, well, that one is a stumper. I don't even want to touch much of that ending with a ten foot pole, especially Francesca's 'immaculate conceptions'. SO, I am also placing this story before that ender, where Stanley Ray Kolwalski is still posing as Ray Vecchio while the real Ray is off working undercover. Since I don't even remember the last episode of 'Father Dowling Mysteries', I'm assuming Frank and Steve are still serving the people of St. Michael's.

  I wish to extend my thanks to several people: Laura P. whose comments while editing 'Coatlicue' that gave me the idea for this story; Zadra, for lending me her idea of Fraser and Blair meeting before (I'm still hoping to talk her into writing that story someday), for pulling me off the ceiling when I occasionally hit it, and for keeping my characterizations in line; Sharon for her continuing encouragement; Rona, for corrections and suggestions; Sealie, who made suggestions to the original 'When Worlds Collide' section; Wolfpup for her final comments and for posting this and my other stories; and to all the wonderful people who emailed me asking if this story was done yet. I greatly appreciate your interest in my humble work.

  Please send any comments to spacecloud@juno.com

  Enjoy the ride.

  Disclaimer: Most of characters are not mine. I'm borrowing them out of deep reverence, affection and respect. I will accept only personal fulfillment, and no monetary gain. If you do sue, you will not get much and I will send over my Black Lab mix, who will stare at you pathetically with his big brown eyes for hours, and probably con you out of all your food.

  Rated PG, mostly for language.

  HOT TIME IN CHICAGO

  C. L. Combs

  Chicago, IL

  Sean A. Malloy, better known as Sam, sat in the passenger seat of a Mustang rubbing his forehead. He had forgotten how much of a pain hangovers were. Of course, Terry's driving wasn't helping. Every weave Terry made through the Chicago traffic rolled through Sam's aching head and queasy stomach.

  Terry Collins glanced over to his friend, his dark brown eyes concerned. "You doing okay?"

  "Yeah," Sam drawled. "Just remind me not to drink that much again, okay?"

  Terry chuckled. "We didn't drink that much. You're out of practice."

  "Well," Sam replied with his eyes closed, "I'm also tired. First, I stayed up all night to finish my story so I could turn it in. Then that plane ride from Mexico was too rough to sleep through. Then we've been on the run since I landed. I'm not even sure what time I fell asleep last night." They had talked long into the night, reminiscing and catching up on the last two years.

  "Oh, I think you dozed off a little after 3:30."

  Sam opened one eye to squint at the dashboard clock. It was only 7:40 am. No wonder he was dragging. "Can you tell me again why we are meeting Father Dowling so early?"

  "It was the only time we could meet to discuss the final details. We're lucky he has time for the rehearsal tomorrow morning. He has two other weddings, plus a funeral this weekend."

  "Wasn't that a movie?" Sam yawned.

  "No, that was 'Four Weddings and a Funeral'. Father Frank is one short."

  "Are Dave and Sunny meeting us at the church?"

  "Dave, Sunny " Terry paused. "And Sunny's mother."

  "Oh man," Sam moaned, sinking lower in the seat. "No offense, but your future mother-in-law hates my guts."

  Terry chuckled, remembering Mrs. Lawrence's face when he had told her who his best man would be. "She is still positive that you were running a 'den of sin' out of your apartment senior year."

  "Right," Sam groaned sarcastically. "With work, school, and Mrs. Farrell nearby? The few times I had a girl at my place, she'd be over in 10 minutes to deliver cookies and meet 'the young lady'. Then after the girl had left I'd get some version of the 'safest sex is abstinence' lecture. I wouldn't have dared do anything there."

  "Not according to Mrs. L," Terry smirked. "She's still positive you were taking Sunny to your apartment when you two were dating, doing 'who knows what'." Terry was trying hard not to laugh. Sam has always been one of the straightest guys he knew.

  Sam carefully shook his head. "She always felt I was dirt, since I was an orphan without a father. Nothing I did could change her mind." He flashed a smile at his friend. "Good thing you have two rich, successful parents."

  "Very lucky," Terry agreed. "By the way, the only time Mom has broken her 'Groom's mother wears beige and keeps her mouth shut' rule was to stick up for you."

  "Great," Sam moaned, eyes closed again. "I don't want to make trouble for her. Your mom has always been nice to me."

  "Mom can handle it." Terry flashed another glance at his friend as he turned off the main street. "Can you? You're looking green."

  Sam shrugged. "I think the Alka Seltzer is kicking in. I'll be okay. I'll just be like your mom and keep my mouth shut."

  "As long as you aren't wearing beige," Terry laughed. "Sunny would have a cow."

  Sam carefully stepped out of the air-conditioned car, feeling the muggy Chicago air wrap itself around him like a blanket. For an instant, he wished he was back in Mexico. At least the Mexican heat was dry. He straightened his shoulders. I just have to get through the next three days. Once Sunny and Terry are married, I can fly to Cascade and spend some time with Blair at the cabin. The thought of laughing with his brother in the cool mountain air gave him the energy surge he needed.

  He glanced at his camera case sitting behind the seat. No, I don't even want to think about trying to keep a camera steady this morning. I'll wait until the rehearsal.

  Following Terry up the walk, Sam surveyed the stone church from behind his sunglasses. St. Michael's Church had not changed since the last time he had seen it. Its solid bulk was comforting in its stability. Sam had a feeling he would need that comfort. Inside, the old church felt cool and pleasant. By the alter, an older woman was directing two young women on where to place various floral bouquets. Must be for the first wedding.

  As they entered Father Frank's office, Sam was immediately hit by Mrs. Lawrence's glare. Thankfully, Sunny bounced over to him, giving him a big hug. "How's the world traveler?" she asked, straight blond hair swinging around her shoulders.

  "Tired," Sam replied with his quiet smile.

  Sunny gave her fiancee a playful glare. "Didn't you let him get any sleep last night?"

  "Of course I did!" Terry defended himself.

  "How much?"

  Terry squirmed under her playful glare. "Oh at least, perhaps, well, maybe three hours."

  "Terry!" Sunny scolded, "You two better promise me right now you will get a full eight the night before the wedding. I want you looking good for the pictures."

  "And here I thought you were worried about our health," Terry teased.

  Su
nny struggled to keep her serious look, but lost. "That, too," she admitted with a smile.

  "Why are YOU here?" Mrs. Lawrence broke in, still glaring at Sam.

  "Mother!"

  "He's with me today, Mrs. Lawrence," Terry replied.

  "Why don't I just wait outside?" Sam suggested, feeling the tension rise.

  Sunny shook her head, "You don't need to "

  "It's okay," Sam shrugged, trying to ignore the growing headache. "Maybe I can take a nap while I wait."

  "If you didn't lead such a wild life "

  "Mother!"

  Sam quickly ducked out of the office, not noticing Father Frank's approach or his concerned look. Walking down a short hall, he gratefully dropped down onto a smooth wooden bench. He reflected on just how long three days could be.

  A few minutes later, a warm voice broke into his thoughts, "You look like someone who could use an iced tea."

  Sam shot upright, his quiet smile spreading across his face. "Sister Steve!" he greeted the slim young nun. He stood up as she set the tray on the nearby table, giving her a hug.

  "How's the world traveler?" Steve asked, noting the tired eyes.

  "Kinda wishing I was back in Mexico," Sam sighed.

  Steve poured him a glass of ice tea. "Because of the humidity, or is Mrs. Lawrence giving you a hard time?"

  Sam took the glass and sat back down on the bench. "A little of both."

  Steve shrugged. "She's a woman with strong opinions." Taking another glance at Sam, she decided to change the subject. "Oh, thanks for the postcard from Guadalajara. I have it taped to the wall in my room."

  "You're welcome," Sam gave her a grateful smile.

  "Are you heading back there after the wedding?"

  "No, I plan to spend a few days in Cascade, WA."

  Steve pondered that for a moment before her eyes lit up. "Oh yeah, that's where your new brother is. You going for a visit?"

  "Yeah, I want to spend some time with him." Steve could see the worry flash through her friend's eyes. "We nearly lost him a few weeks ago. Made me realize how much I want to get to know him better."

  "Lost him?" Steve frowned.

  Sam stared at his hands. "I don't know all the details. Apparently some woman Blair was helping at the University was a high-tech burglar and decided he knew too much. She nearly drowned him."

  "That's awful," Steve exclaimed. "Is he okay now?"

  Sam nodded. "Yeah, though he's complaining that his roommate is practically hovering over him. Blair's like a kid brother to Jim, so this whole thing really scared him."

  "Looks like it scared you, too," Steve observed.

  Sam shrugged. "I guess I've realized just how much I don't want to lose him, either." Wishing desperately to change the subject again, Sam spotted two men with an urn. "You guys getting into pottery now?"

  Steve glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, that's Mr. Flesch."

  "Which one is Mr. Flesch?" Sam studied the two beefy men dressed in dark suits. They have to be really hot.

  "They're Mr. Flesch's nephews. Mr. Flesch is in the urn." Steve replied respectfully, trying not to chuckle.

  Sam dropped his face into his hands. "This is DEFINITELY not my day," he mumbled.

  Before Steve could say anything, a voice called out, echoing through the church, "Hey Sam! Steve!"

  Sam looked up and smiled as he caught sight of the tall blond. "Hi, Dave."

  "How's it going? Where's Terry and Sunny?"

  "They're in with Father Frank," Steve explained.

  "Let me guess. The dragon lady is in there with them?"

  "Yep," Sam smiled. "You just get in from Detroit?"

  Dave nodded excitedly. "Ready for a fun weekend, wishing a farewell to our dear friend's departing bachelorhood."

  The door to the study opened, allowing a bouncing Terry out the door. "Hi Dave! You guys ready to book?"

  "Sure," Dave replied. "But can we have breakfast first?

  Sam tried not to turn green while Terry shook his head. "No, not yet. We have things to do, places to go. How about a breakfast bar?" He tossed the cellophane wrapped rectangle to Dave, who missed the catch. The bar hit the floor, sliding under the bench Sam was sitting on.

  Shaking his head at Terry's bad throw and Dave's non-catch, Sam knelt down to retrieve Dave's breakfast. Ducking his head under the bench, Sam's eyes were immediately drawn to the blinking red lights flashing 32:42, then 32:41. He could just barely make out the box behind it. Within an instant, all of Sam's woes were forgotten. Damn, oops, sorry Lord. He pulled back. "Steve? I think you better evacuate the building. Terry, call the police."

  "Huh?" Terry asked.

  Sister Steve added. "What's wrong?"

  "I just found a bomb."

  In the rushed chaos to leave the church, a hand swiftly reached under the bench with the bomb. It pulled back, holding a pin of a golden eagle with sparkling green jewels for eyes.

  "So, the Canadian one dollar is not a bill, but a coin?" the blond man asked, stopping his car as the light changed from yellow to red. The detective currently known as Ray Vecchio turned to his friend in the other seat, sipping on a straw as he waited for the answer.

  "That is correct, Ray," confirmed the tall man dressed in a red Canadian Mounted Police uniform. "It is brass in color, slightly larger than your American quarter and slightly smaller than our two dollar coin."

  "You guys have a two dollar coin, too?" Ray repeated. He pushed back the nose of his friend's wolf, who was trying to get a bite of his doughnut from the back seat. "We tried a two dollar bill a while back, but it just didn't catch on. For that matter, neither did the Suzy B."

  "The Suzy B?" Benton Fraser asked, puzzled. Then he stared into the eyes of the deaf wolf who was still trying for the doughnut. "No, Diefenbaker. That is RAY'S breakfast."

  "Thanks. Anyways, the Suzy B is the one dollar American coin with a picture of Susan B. Anthony on it. The problem was the coin was silver like the quarter and almost the same size. People kept mixing them up."

  "That does sound rather short-sighted."

  "Yeah," Ray started to reply when he was interrupted.

  Attention all personnel in the vicinity of the corners of Main and Beaumont. There has been a report of a bomb in St. Michael's church.

  "St. Michael's!" Ray exclaimed. "That was my grandma's church!"

  "Isn't Beaumont street " Fraser began.

  "Only a few blocks from here," Ray stated as he slipped his emergency light onto the car roof. Fraser grabbed the armrest as his friend quickly turned right.

  The street in front of St. Michael's was soon filled with police cars, vans, and fire trucks. Sam was most thankful when the bomb squad ran into the church. He took another glance at his watch. The squad had fifteen minutes.

  "Do you think this is a bomb like Oklahoma City?" Sunny asked worriedly. They were standing under a tree near the church, just outside the yellow tape the police had just strung up.

  "No, it wasn't very big and you need a lot of fertilizer and fuel oil for a bomb like Oklahoma. This one looked a lot more sophisticated," Sam answered absently, rubbing his eyes with his hands. His headache had grown, the muggy heat was getting worse, and he hated the idea of the church blowing up. Deep in his own misery, he missed the patrol officer walking up behind them.

  "C-4, maybe?" Terry asked as he studied the firemen pulling hoses out the back of a tanker.

  "I don't think so," Sam replied. "It was in a box, and I don't think they usually put C-4 in a box."

  "How do you know what the bomb looked like?" the police officer demanded behind them.

  They all turned. "I was the one who found it," Sam explained, noting the zealous look on the man's face and becoming uneasy.

  "Then why do you know so much about bombs?" the officer sternly questioned.

  Sam carefully shrugged. "I don't know that much, except what my Dad's told me."

  "Why exactly would your father know about bombs?"

  "He's a demolition's
expert."

  "Oh, really. How convenient that you found the bomb, then."

  Sam frowned. "Wait a minute "

  "That's him, detective!" Mrs. Lawrence declared, pointing at Sam. The group turned to see the steaming mother leading a slim, wiry blond man to them. "He's trash, anyway, and wants Sunny back."

  "MOTHER!" Sunny shouted. Terry glared as Dave watched, stunned.

  Sam simply rubbed his forehead, quietly stating, "I do not want Sunny back." No one heard him, except a man in a red uniform.

  "Open your eyes, Sunny. That orphan bastard just wants to ruin your wedding!"

  "Mrs. Lawrence!" Terry protested, disliking her description of his friend.

  "No, he doesn't!" Sunny refuted. "Sam's a nice guy, Mother."

  "He's trash!"

  "He knows about explosives," the patrolman added, staring suspiciously at the suspect.

  "See!" Mrs. Lawrence roared. "He has the knowledge and a motive. And he had plenty of time to set the bomb while we were meeting with Father Frank!"

  The blond detective winced, realizing that he would have a riot on his hands soon if he didn't do something. "Perhaps we'd better take you down to the station."

  "Take him in?" Sunny shrieked.

  "This is ridiculous!" Terry declared.

  Sam rolled his eyes. "I didn't do anything except find a bomb."

  "Ray," Fraser tried to whisper, only his friend couldn't hear him over the shouting. Then Ray spotted a familiar face and quickly ducked his head to avoid recognition.

  A member of the bomb squad walked up to the crowd with Father Frank. He quickly reported to Ray, "Detective, the bomb has been defused. We are taking it back to be analyzed."

  Ray acknowledged the report with a nod, casually keeping his face directed away from the priest by writing down the information on his pad. Just about all he'd need right now would be for Father Frank to recognize him and blurt out the wrong name.

  "What is the problem?" Father Frank asked worriedly.

  "This trash tried to blow up your church!" Mrs. Lawrence declared.

  "MOTHER!"

  "We're taking him in for questioning," Ray explained, still keeping his face down.