This is the second in my "Could be an episode series."

These characters belong to Pet Fly and UPN. No copyright infringement in intended. Original characters are the property of Yvonne and Robert McCool

Summary: An almost perfect crime occurs in Cascade.

A Perfect Crime R (Violence)

Yvonne and Robert McCool

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Episode One - The Heist

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"We will be switching to code names until the end of the operation." The speaker paused. "We'll use color this time. I will be White, you will be Black, you are Green and you, you will be Pink." White said with a smile.

"I don't want to be called Pink, that's not a good code name."

"Pink is you," White said.

"How about Chartreuse?" Green suggested.

"I think Brown would work," Black countered.

"Fine, Brown it is. Now I want a weapons check, we have four minutes." White commanded. Once code names were established nothing would force any one of the four to break and use their real names until the operation was over.

Black scanned the room. This would be their last operation together and she wanted to remember every detail. In three days they would go their separate ways, at least she would never see White and Green again. She had every intention of living the rest of her life with Brown.

She centered herself, closing off her emotions like a "good little soldier" and concentrated on her weapons and equipment. Her hands, insulated by leather, slid across the cold metal, clipping across the bumps and protrusions.

She drew a deep breath and let the smells come to her. The smells swirled into a miasma, cordite's acerbic bite, sheared copper, acrid oil, and faintly the smell of fear. The familiar sounds of leather creaking, rubber squeaking, and metal sliding into place with clicks. The loud clacks of bolts being pulled and receivers springs releasing carriers forward and the final snicks of crossbolt safeties locked in.

White gave a slight nod to the other the three and the group of four walked out of the rental shed. They closed the door with a bang and did not bother to lock it, they were not coming back. The large gym bags on their shoulders blended into the dark black of the identical coveralls and the hands, encased in black leather, also seemed to disappear against the all black outfits.

The group moved into a diamond pattern, seemingly without thinking, and headed toward the two vehicles parked outside the storage shed. An uninformed observer would have thought they were dancers by their graceful movement. To a trained eye the movements would betray extensive combat training.

The figures were nondescript. It was only possible to set a general height average around 5 9". The baggy coveralls concealed form and sex. The wool balaclava ski masks hid faces.

Black and Brown approached and uncovered the closer of the two vehicles. The sides of the diamond broke away and entered the ambulance. White started the engine, buckled in, and waited. Green got in the passenger side and buckled up also. Black and Brown climbed up into the Kenworth diesel and Brown started it with a loud rumble. Thick black smoke belched from the pipes. There was a short burst of static from the handheld CB, then White's voice.

"Radio check."

"5 by 5," Black replied.

"Synchronize watches in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 it is now 11:03. We have eighteen minutes to rendezvous." Four identical Seiko quartz digital watches were set to the time.

Black sent a double click of the transmit button, which told White 'message received, will comply'.

The ambulance left first, lights pulsing but no siren, taking the Marcusson Freeway and then took the 125 exit. The ambulance had driven to the intersection just beyond the exit ramp where the one way street went underneath the freeway.

The truck was already waiting on the median, at the top of the 125 exit ramp.

"Six minutes," Brown said.

"Shut up," Black replied.

At the intersection, White turned the ambulance sideways onto the road to block the road. Green saw the Continental Security armored car, now ten blocks away, approaching.

"Two minutes to intercept," Green called on the radio.

A double click was the response. The truck began to move down the ramp; soon it was roaring down. The armored car stopped dead in the sights of the diesel. Brown accelerated, steering the Kenworth directly at the side door to the car.

The truck slammed into the armored car with a resounding crash of metal.. The armored car toppled onto its side and dug a trail two inches deep in the asphalt, ten feet long, as it screeched forward. White and Green exited the ambulance, now fifteen feet away for the armored car, then rushed forward, running right and left to cover the approaches. Brown and Black exited the diesel, its grillwork now attached by stressed metal strips to the armored car. Brown covered the back of the car, waiting with a MK32 flash bang simulator. Black had moved to place a ring of Semtex plastic explosive around the rear door of armored car, connecting a five-second fuse to the detonator.

"Fire in the hole!" Black called.

The resulting explosion shattered the lock, pulling the door open, Brown threw the MK32 into the rear of the armored car. The bang inside was almost as loud as the first one, but now the heavily armed guard was stunned and easily handled. Brown pulled the guard out of the back. Black, meantime, had placed another charge on the windshield of the armored car. White motioned for the two guards to exit.

Realizing that they were dead if the charge were lit, they complied, Green covering them with the Ruger Mini-14 rifle. Once the guards were removed from the front seat, White moved to the rear left of the armored car. Brown shoved the staggering guard to the right front to join the other captives. Black joined White, climbed into the back of the car, and began to empty one box into a single large sack. White took one sheaf into the sunlight to exam it. The phrase "One Million U. S. Dollars Paid To The Bearer" was engraved deeply with intricate designs upon the page.

Brown's voice rang out, "One minute 5 seconds."

The two finished loading the sack and Black began to watch the rear approaches for police or other interference. White moved forward toward the ambulance and their escape.

Charlie Tanner was now deaf, and he knew he would be deaf for the rest of his life. Right now he felt that his life span could now be measured in minutes. One second he had been sitting in the back of the armored car, trying to figure out what to get his wife for her birthday, determined not to repeat the infamous 'blender' fiasco of last year. The next second, all hell had broken loose. The car screamed to a stop and then was hit, not from the front, as he had expected but instead on the right side. They had been hit by a semi; it was the only thing on the road that could have even moved the heavy armored car.

The first explosion that opened the back door had deafened him. He might have recovered at least some of his hearing from that, but the second blast had perforated his eardrums. There was blood trickling from both ears, and he could only see clearly out of one eye. They had taken his gun from its holster quickly, but they had not searched him and taken his holdout gun on his ankle.

He was straining to make sense of what was going on. There were at least three of them that he could see. Jeff and Hector had been pulled from the front. There must have been another explosion, he had felt something, but there were no longer any sounds coming to him.

The gunman closest to him moved the rifle slightly, possibly sighting along the barrel, and mouthed something to the other gunmen. Charlie knew that they were going to kill him, now. He thought about his daughter Megan, and how he had lost patience with her that morning because she was complaining about her braces. He thought about his wife Shelly, who just *knew* he didn't remember her birthday and was dropping subtle hints. He wondered how they would make it on that life insurance policy he hadn't upgraded. Would Shelly have to sell the house? Would they be alright? God, he was only thirty-five, he was supposed to have so much time left.

Charlie took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He wasn't going to die like a sheep--he was man, and would die like one. Charlie dropped to the ground in an attitude of prayer and pulled the gun from his leg holster. The gunman nearest him was his only target. He fired.

The door handle of the ambulance was just within White's reach when shots rang out. Two heavy 'kablams', then a series of rapid sharp cracks of an automatic weapon. White turned and saw Brown on the ground, kicking and squirming, hands, grasping in pain, at the fourth intercostal rib. One of the guards was lying on his back with several large holes in his chest and head. A small chrome revolver lay near the guard's twitching hand. Green's rifle was smoking, spent cartridge casings scattered on the street. Black rushed to Brown's side. A quick glance between Green and White, then both rifles raised and another series of cracks, this time much louder. The other two guards fell in a heap. A car was coming down the 125 exit, blowing its horn at the truck.

Green moved toward Brown who was being helped up by Black. White threw the bag into the back of the ambulance and then moved to the driver's seat. White gunned the motor and left the scene at full speed. Brown was pulled into the rear and laid on the gurney by Black and Green. Coveralls were cutaway revealing a semi-naked torso. The breasts and stomach were covered with a blood-soaked kevlar vest, but the side panel was missing.

Brown looked up as Black removed the balaclava ski mask. Brown winced, and in a voice filled with regret said "too hot with whole thing, never <<cough>>." Her voice broke as a spume of blood came up. "Never figured a two inch gap would get hit, sorry." Her eyes caught and held Black's.

"Me too," said Black, grimly.

"Did you get the backup piece?" Green asked White.

"No time." White looked into the mirror to catch Black's eyes. "How bad?"

"Glazer safety slug, center mass." Black said matter-of-factly. "Probably .38 caliber, same as the primary piece." She continued. She was amazed how calm her voice was. Inside she was screaming 'Jesus Christ, let's get to a hospital!'

"What happened, Green?" White asked.

"Motherfucker dropped to his knees like he was praying, and pulled the damn holdout gun from his ankle. By the time I tracked him, it was too late."

Brown coughed up more blood.

The words "glazer safety slugs" made White close her eyes for a few seconds. The vision unfolding in her mind. The glazer was a round of ammunition designed to do a great deal of damage to a human body without over penetrating.

It consisted of a core of Teflon in which was suspended a group of small shotgun pellets. This core was surrounded by a soft copper outer shell. When it impacted on a body, the copper shell peeled back, and the Teflon broke apart.

The birdshot was dispersed inside the body as if a hand grenade went off inside and Holly had been struck center mass, the killing zone of the human body. A shot delivered into the T-zone, the line directly down the middle of the chest with the cross line formed by the eyes.

Holly was a good as dead. Well that presented a problem didn't it. Yes it did, a nasty poser. They couldn't take her with them, she was literally dead weight. It was also true that they couldn't leave her. If the cops found her alive... Well the game was over. Then it came to her.

"Strip her," White snapped. Black's glared at the mirror, then sadly she nodded and stripped off all of Brown's things and put them in the disposal bag. She then took over the driving for White, to allow her to do the same. Green also stripped. White resumed driving, now wearing a clean set of coveralls. She looked again at Black who looked down at Holly and then looked up at the mirror. White shook her head very slightly and Black's eyes filled with tears, but she nodded quickly.

"Holly, I need to tell you something." Black said, leaning forward and wiping the blood away to kiss her chilled lips. "I love you, see you on the other side," Black said as the Glock .45 rang out.

Holly's eyes flew wide open as the slug ripped a hot trail of pain through her chest. Then the gun was lowered to her forehead, cool, then red hot as the second slug raced through her brain. Black used the inside of her coveralls to clean away the blood and brains. She stripped and put all her things in her bag and dressed in a clean set of coveralls..

The mechanical movements now came from training and practice. Inside her emotions were swirling through her. She had sworn that she would never let Holly die in agony, they had promised each other. Now she had put two bullets in Holly because Holly had left the side panel off her vest. Shit, shit, shit. What was she going to do without Holly.

"We have to move faster now," Green said.

"I know, I know," said White. "We're almost there." White drove the ambulance onto the gravel road, passing the minivan that they would use for their escape. She then quickly followed a series of narrow curvy dirt roads that led to a sunken pit. She parked the ambulance in this pit just under a cliff edge. "Leave her inside."

Black nodded, she not trusting her voice. Green reached over and touched Black's shoulder.

"She knew the risks," Green said.

"We all knew," said Black. But it was hard-- they had been lovers for three years. Black drew in a ragged breath. Oh Holly, we were supposed to die rich, old, evil women, not like this. We were going to live in the South of France, take young lovers, and break hearts.

"It's time," White said. "I'm sorry Black, but we have to move."

Black wanted to scream. 'You're not sorry at all, it means a bigger cut for you and money is everything to you.' Black bit her lip and began to set detonators in the blocks of Plastique. Green started grabbing the heavy bags of clothes, guns, and equipment and took them with her as she left the ambulance.

"A one minute fuse, Black." White said, pulling the bag of bonds with her. Green returned for the last bag of equipment.

"Black?" Green asked.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Black said. She stared at the ambulance that was now her lover's coffin. I love you Holly, I'll always love you.

They ran for the minivan. Three hundred yards away, Black pushed the remote, burying the ambulance and her lover under a half a ton of rocks as the cliff wall collapsed. No need to admire the work she had completed two days ago. A second button and the rocks and the ambulance disappeared in a earthshaking blast as the explosive she had just set did its job.

"That's it," Black announced.

White already had the minivan moving. She drove to the secured parking at the airport.

"Grand Omand Hotel in two days." White said.

"Right," Black said.

"You got it, Boss." Green said.

"There have been enough fuck ups already, I don't want anymore!" White barked.

Black winced at the words 'fuck up' but she couldn't deny it either. "Yes," she said tightly.

Green moved her body between the two women who were squaring off at each other. "Two days, Grand Omand Hotel, White, just like you said," she repeated quickly and just like that, the moment passed.

"Right," White said turning to leave.

"Yes," Black repeated between tight lips.

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End Episode One

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Episode Two - The Investigation

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The truck made a crunching sound over fragments of armor-plated glass. Jim winced, to think about the glass cutting his tires. Two hundred feet away and there were fragments of glass from the collision.

Jim started to get out of the truck, paused, and looked at his partner and guide. "Chief, you can wait in the truck until they remove the bodies."

"I'll be alright Jim. I've send bodies before." Blair eased out of the truck and moving to stand at Jim's side.

~Yeah, Chief, you've seen bodies but only since you hooked up with me.~ Jim sighed. "Let's go."

Jim swivelled his eyes around the area, taking an impression of the entire crime scene. ~How did they block the street? What weapons did they use? Which way did the bodies lie? Were they placed or did they fall there?~

Spiraling his search in an inward curve, Jim started at the limits of the tape. He knew, of course, that the actual scene extended far beyond the tape. Traffic conditions limited what they could do. Cornell was the only exit from the expressway in this area.

The more difficult questions to answer of where were the perps? What had they taken? How did the crime happen would be answered later. A lot depended upon forensic examination of the evidence. A lot more upon old fashioned investigation. Knock on doors, and ask questions. Hopefully something would break. He was going to need something to break.

If impressions mattered, and his usually did, this was a very slick and smooth operation. His thoughts automatically falling into tactical patterns. Two on perimeter observation and a two man entry team. Blast points carefully chosen and precision shooting. It clicked into his mind, a tight well trained, and equipped insertion team operated this way. He knew the drill now.

Forensics would provide some information but not much.. Clothing would be a well made, but mass produced items. Weapons would be common and easily acquired but convertible to automatic fire. That might be a vital clue. ~Who had converted the weapons, but they would need the weapons for that. But other than that? No, no help from that quarter.~

Ellison went to the blasted armor car. Two men were dusting surfaces with magnetic graphite.

"Any luck?" Ellison asked, not expecting any.

"Oh we got lots of latents."

"Yeah, quipped the other. "Whadda bet half are employees and the other half dates of employees?"

Jim grinned at the old hoary joke. He couldn't help it. He did smother the smile quickly. "Do we know what they took?" He asked another man working in the rear of the car.

"Didn't touch the cash or stock certificates or checks." The man stood up, his knees popping, and he groaned under the weight of the large box. "Just this," he said. "Contents unknown, the owner of the company is coming along with a liaison officer to bring us a master list on this unit." The officer stared at Jim. "I hate to complain," the officer continued. "But this thing is damn heavy and you're in the only door."

Jim snapped back into real time. He had started to zone out on a familiar odor. What... what was it ? He mused. Well it would come to him. Probably at one in the morning, but it would come.

"Jasus H Keerist," a gravelly voice intoned. "Whatta mess you got here Jimmy."

Ellison stiffened. "Hello, Dugan."

"Hello he says, huh, a fine way to greet me." Harlan Dugan dug a butt warped pad from a pair of plaid pants that could cause flash burns 1/4 mile away. Ellison's eyes moved up in self defense. The frayed shirt was dingy. The tie was food stained.

"Harlan, when are you going to buy new clothes? You've been wearing that outfit so long it's been in and out of style three times."

"I never throw good clothes away."

~Or wash them either,~ Ellison thought.

"So what happened Jimmy?"

"Talk to the Media Representative, Dugan."

"Aww Jimmy, don't be a hardass."

"Dugan, go talk to the febbie media guy." Jim said.

"Oh, oh the Federal Bureau of Incompetence is on the case... Why I feel sooo much safer, Jimmy Boy."

Jim said nothing but inwardly agreed. Dugan was a slob who dressed badly but he had a sharp mind. "Bye Dugan."

"Bye he says," Dugan moaned, moving away. "A fine thing to be.." The voice trailed off, fading into the background.

"Was that *the* Harlan Dugan?" Blair asked.

"The one and, Thank God, only. Cascade's living legend of the Crime Beat. Thank God he works for a newspaper. Can you imagine seeing that outfit on television?" Jim replied, then he saw the flare of a match outside the scene barriers. The scent clicked into place. ~Phosphorus and sulfur, that was it. A flash-bang probably. Yes, that was likely. Two men entry team. One blows the lock then opens the door. The other neutralizes opposition.~

His search had brought him near the bodies. He wished he could send Blair back to the truck on some pretense. But he might need him and Blair would see through his attempts to spare him the grisly side of his work.

Two technicians were photographing and Detective Grant Mitchell was squatting down, picking up spent cartridges and placing them in a bag.

"They're .233 caliber, Jim." Grant said without looking up.

Another detective, Margaret Davis, came over. "Several witnesses to interview."

"You got a chronology for me?" Jim asked quietly.

"Okay here goes." Davis took a deep breath. "Con Sec stops there blocked by an ambulance. Then boom the tractor rig hits it. Four men take down the car. Guard over there," the detective pointed to a body by itself. "Pulls a holdout .38 from his ankle, pops two rounds and is capped by shooter number two. He got one of the bastards by the way."

"Yeah?" Jim replied.

"Yeah, a separate blood stain smeared as if the perp were dragged up. That corroborates one witness by the way. She saw one shooter fall down, then two of his pals helped him up."

"Go on," Ellison ordered.

"Well after Tanner, that was his name, got hit. Shooters one and two do the other two guards. After that we have very little," Davis ended.

A voice called out. "Ellison, over here." Joel Taggart called.

Ellison looked over to the Con Sec patrol car with it's yellow strobe lights on. A tall well built man with salt and pepper hair exited the vehicle. Ellison walked over to them. The man offered his hand.

"James Farrell, I own Con Sec." Jim shook the hand firmly. A strong man, no sweat, and calluses on the outer edge of his hand. That meant martial arts training.

"Detective Jim Ellison, my partner Blair Sandburg." Jim indicated Blair at his side. "I'm sorry to inform you, sir, but your employees are dead."

The man's face paled and then flushed with anger.

"Do you have the master list for contents?" Jim asked gently. The man was livid with rage. Jim could hear the man's forceful exhales and inhalations. "Sir, the list please, time is very crucial." Jim urged.

"Yes, the list." Farrell responded. He pulled a very expensive briefcase from the car. A computer printout was inside. The man began to unfold pages. "Here it is. The box was carrying a biannual deposit transfer of bearer bonds."

Jim's mouth tightened. That meant the haul was better than cash. Large cash sums, when deposited, would be reported but bearer bonds would not.

"The value of the bonds?" Blair asked.

"One hundred million dollars." Farrell replied. "God, how do I tell Charlie's wife and kid? And Hector.. Jesus, he was going to be married soon. Jeff was about to be promoted, I wanted to tell him myself. He was one of my first employees at Con Sec."

The man looked like he wanted to kill the robbers with his own hands. Jim felt a bond with this man. He cared more about his people, than the property loss.

"Detective.." the man's voice shook with emotion. "You find the bastards who did this. Anything I can do, anything you need, you ask." Farrell pointed his finger at Jim. "But you *find* them." Farrell turned away.

Jim quietly left him alone. ~Well, that was one suspect out of the way. No way could Farrell have been involved. But that didn't mean all his people were innocent.~ Jim's thoughts continued to race.

"Jim... Jim." Grant Mitchell came racing toward him. "I think we found the ambulance."

"What have you got?"

"A deputy sheriff reported that two kids called in about hearing an explosion out past Highway 86, near the old gravel mine. He went to investigate and found a huge smoking crater with shards of metal scattered and a fragment of a human jaw."

"A jaw?"

"Yes, and also we have tire treads."

"Get a team out there now."

"Already on the way."

"Good work, Mitchell. Okay, I've got to make a report to the Captain"

Jim made with way to the truck with Blair close beside him. Jim and Blair found Taggart waiting for them beside Jim's truck.

"Taggart, if you need me, I'll be at HQ."

"Okay Jim, I don't envy you reporting this."

"Yeah, you and me both Joel."

Jim pulled into his parking space and turned to look at Blair, who was sitting quietly beside him. They had grabbed a burger for him and a salad for Blair at Smoky Joe's, but Jim was still slightly hungry. "Well we better go see the man." Jim quipped. 'See the man' was a phrase commonly used by police dispatchers. Blair didn't respond.

"Blair..?"

"What, oh sorry, I was just thinking about those guards and their families."

"Yes, I understand, Chief." Jim reached out and squeezed his partner's shoulder. "But the best way to help them now, is to catch the people responsible. Agreed?"

"You're right, Jim." Blair opened the truck door.

"Okay, let's go then. After you, Chief." Jim let Blair lead the way into Captain Banks office. The Captain was on the phone, a harried look was on his face.

"Yes ma'am, I understand. Yes ma'am, I have my top people on the case. Who? Detective Ellison is leading the case and Detective Taggart is the liaison officer." Banks indicated that Jim and Blair should remain in the office. "I will give you everything as soon as I get it. Goodbye ma'am." The Captain looked up with concern. "Please tell me you have something."

"Oh quite a lot." Jim then proceeded to detail the incident. "I have a team on the way to the blast site. I have a hunch that Mitchell may be onto something."

"Why?"

"This team and I mean that literally, is very good. They know demolitions, entrance tactics, response times to emergencies.." Jim's fingers continued to close as he listed things. "The fact that one of the team was hit is what caused the collapse. If that hadn't happened... We would have nothing."

"Alright, alright." Banks said, throwing up his hands in surrender. "But you had better be right or we're all through! That was the Deputy Chief for Operations Alberta Simpson. I don't need to tell you that she wants answers."

Blair whistled, Alberta Simpson was a force to reckoned with in the Cascade P.D. equally famous for going to the wall for one of her people and for nailing the hides of her people to the wall.

Banks continued. "It seems Mr. Farrell has a lot of money, and more power. He call the Chief of Police and the Chief called D.C.O. Simpson and she called me."

"Understood, sir." Jim was grim, extra attention from the brass often slowed cases due to the duplicate reporting. He would rather only have to report to Simon but that was not what was going to happen here.

"Agents Ebenja and Fraser are the principle agents from the FBI." He knew he could not avoid FBI attention on this case, technically it was an FBI case. But he would be expected to do the dog work on the case and the FBI would steal all the thunder it could from any solution that he or the department achieved.

"I'll get with them right after I see the dump site."

"I'm also assigning you four other detectives to work this case. Get it done, Jim."

"Yes, sir." Jim and Blair left the office.

"Whew," Blair said. "Somebody hit him hard." Blair grabbed a bag of trail mix that he had left in Jim's desk for emergency snacking. "Well, we had better get moving."

The abandoned quarry was on a direct line of travel from the crime scene. But it must have meant that the ambulance was traveling at speeds of one hundred miles an hour or so, to account for the lapse of time between the robbery and the explosion.

As Jim pulled into the area of vehicles with blue lights flashing, he could see the white van of forensics. ~Good,~ he thought. As Jim made his way toward the crater, two men in suits approached. One tall, angular, bald, and very dark skinned and the other was shorter, strongly built, with bright red hair.

"Detective Ellison?" The dark skinned man inquired.

"Yes, ah .."

"Agents Ebenja and Fraser, FBI." The men pulled their id's simultaneously, opened them in synch, and then put them away.

Jim felt like asking. ~Do you guys all practice that little dance step?~ Instead he introduced Blair. "This is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

"We heard you were coming and decided to meet you here." Ebenja was saying.

"How did you beat us here?" Blair asked.

"Chopper." Agent Fraser finally spoke.

That was nice, Jim thought, at least he could talk.

"Why do you think this is where they dumped the ambulance?" Agent Fraser swept his arm toward the large amount of manpower that was being expended at the site.

~Oh a complete sentence,~ Jim thought.

"Well ..." and Jim began again to defend his hunch play.

"Sounds like a winner." Agent Ebenja said. "They told us that you were good, Ellison."

"Thanks." Jim said. ~And may I please have a cookie sir?~ Jim's mind continued.

"Well can you give us a rundown, please Detective?" Agent Ebenja continued.

"Of course," and Jim repeated what they had pieced together so far.

Agent Ebenja whistled. "Pretty professional."

"I mean after the first guard is killed, no hesitation, bang, bang no witnesses." Blair interjected. "Three professional guards make better witnesses than one hundred randomly chosen citizens."

"Well that's a big clue there." Agent Ebenja replied. "I see that working with you is going to be nice."

"Thanks again." Jim was looking past the agents now, hoping for some sign of excitement at the crater, a larger piece of the ambulance, more body parts, something.

"Alright, now your crime lab people seem pretty well equipped for forensics, so we'll keep that local as much as possible. When do you think the Medical Examiner will post the bodies?" Agent Enbenja asked.

"Probably tonight," Ellison said. "It seems that Mr. Farrell, the owner of Con Sec is a heavy player."

"Yeah, real big," Agent Fraser said. "We already heard from the Special Agent in Charge of Seattle. Who heard from the Regional Director, who heard from the District Supervisor of Operations..."

The litany was sounding familiar to Jim. Farrell was well connected alright.

"Okay then," Agent Ebenja cut off Agent Fraser recital of the chain of command. "We head to the morgue."

"By the way, has a local unit notified survivors?" Agent Fraser inquired.

"Yeah, a couple of hours ago." Blair replied.

"Okay, we'll do interviews with victim's families the first thing in the morning." Agent Fraser made notes on a small computer screen.

"Detective Ellison, would you please detail someone for that." Agent Ebenja asked.

"Yes, of course. I would like to pursue some ideas of my own also."

"Right, I have your pager and cell phone numbers, and here are ours." Agent Ebenja handed Blair the card. "We'll have a team meeting at 0800 hours in the Task Forces offices, room 403, I think was assigned."

"Right, room 403," confirmed Agent Fraser after checking his notes.

"See you then." Ellison said. He wanted no part of an autopsy. The whining crunch and smell of bone being cut open, no thanks.

Ellison and Sandburg parted company with the FBI agents and headed toward the crater. Ellison wished he did not have to bring Blair to this part.

"Chief? How about you.." Jim started.

"I'm coming with you Jim." Blair countered, his voice firm.

Jim gave up on arguing with Blair, he knew he needed the other man with him. They went to the edge of the crater.

"They dropped the rocks off the cliff onto the top of the ambulance to provide a dampening effect. It would have increased the strength of the blast by as much as a factor of five. If they had some sandbags to put over that, they could have increased the effectiveness by a factor of ten." Blair surmised.

Jim shook his head, the wide range of knowledge that his partner possessed sometimes made him think that Blair was a lot older than he said. "It was the time factor, they didn't have time to drop sandbags."

"Do you think that the body they found is the one that was shot or someone else?" Blair asked.

"No, it had to have been the one that was shot. He would have been nothing but a liability to them at that point. If he hadn't died by the time they got to this point, I would bet that they killed him."

"Jim... ehewww."

"Sorry, Chief, I'm just trying to think like one of them. Before they killed the guards they were looking at 25 to life. But once they killed those guards it was the death penalty and no other option. They can only be executed once, no matter how many bodies they leave behind."

"That'll make catching them all the harder, they have nothing to lose."

"Exactly." Jim introduced himself and Blair to the Deputy, who was obviously enjoying having all the attention directed at his small county. Jim went past him to look at the jaw. A tall, by all descriptions, human reduced to a part not as long as his forefinger. It was the largest part found. "Ironic, if we had dental records we could match the jaw to those records and identify the person. But to find the dental records we would have to already have an idea of who we had here."

"What's that shiny part?" Blair asked after looking at the jaw.

"A bridge, another clue, if we knew who this was." Jim stared at the bridge, practically willing it to give up its secrets. Then he saw it, a number on the bridge. "Sonofabitch," he whispered.

"What is it?" Blair asked concerned.

"You know I said that these perps acted like a military insertion team?"

"Yeah, you said they showed too much military training to have gained it in the private sector."

"Well, I have positive proof now."

"What?"

"The military puts serial numbers on things like bridges, in case it's all they have to identify a body."

"Isn't that a comfort to your average Joe?" Blair said sarcastically.

"Most *Joes* don't know it's there."

"How did you?"

"Covert OPS, I've had to use dental work to identify a target before." Jim zoomed in on the serial number, some numbers were slightly twisted and he had to interpolate them. He could feel Blair's hand on his arm, providing him an anchor. He could hear Blair's soothing voice, providing him a tether back.

"Tell me the numbers, Jim," Blair said in his practiced Guide voice.

"8HH945777324." Jim chanted and then snapped back.

"Too bad we have to wait until it's 'official' before we use the information."

"Like Hell. Trust me, Chief, no one is going to question any information found too closely. Too many asses are on the line, including mine. Call the number in for checking. Then take it over to the lab truck and put it under the microscope. We've wasted too much time as it is." Jim turned back to look at the crater while Blair called the serial number into the FBI agents.

Jim walked over to where they were making impressions of the tire tracks. The vehicle had a wide stance like a truck and the even contact with the road, as it pulled, away suggested all wheel drive.

"What do you think, Bob?" Jim asked the technician.

"Judging from the stance of the tires, type of tires, weight distribution.."

"I know the drill, Bob."

"Minivan, Dodge." Bob answered. "Five bucks on the make."

A minivan was a good guess, the room and seating, plus storage. "What do we have on stolen minivans?" Jim asked.

Bob pulled his notepad computer out. "Not too many of those are stolen, not exactly a 'gangsta' kind of vehicle... We have three, a Dodge, a Toyota, and a Mercury."

"Which ones have all wheel drive?" Jim asked eagerly.

"Noticed that too? Just the Dodge, that's five bucks you owe me."

Jim noted the color, model, and plate. "I'll give it to you when we find it." Jim went to the nearest patrol unit and put out an APB on the minivan, concentrating the search on secured parking at bus stations, airports, and the train station. They wouldn't want it found too quickly so they would put it where it would not be noticed for several days.

They were smart, they were organized, and they were ruthless. Jim just hoped that they would screw up, and that no one else had to die when they did.

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End Episode Two

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Episode Three - Closing the Net

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Jim's idea was to take a hard look at who could have known about the shipment. That seemed to be the best place to start. Early next morning, he left for Farrell Enterprises Inc., James Farrell had his office on the twenty-fifth floor.

The top of the building Jim knew was a landing pad for helicopters or Farrell's VTOL car. The vertical take-off or landing car was an experimental project. Jim knew from his motorcycle patrol days that the "car" was not a car as such, and therefore immune from speeding violations.

He pulled the truck up to the large gate to the secured parking area. He was impressed by the guard who stopped him, and carefully inspected his identification. She called into the building and, after a few minutes, she raised the gate, returning his warrant card, apologizing for the delay.

"Could I get your plate number and vehicle I.D.. please?" Her face was flushed, maybe someone had complained about her stopping him.

"Yes of course" he replied, smiling at her.

"Thanks.. Mr. Farrell has left instructions to give you every courtesy."

"You do a very good job." he said. It seemed like the quickest way to end this. The guard wrote down the numbers and gave a gold-colored parking tag to hang from the mirror.

"You just have to show this to whomever is on duty, and they will let you in sir."

"Okay and thanks." Ellison saw Harlan Dugan's battered Plymouth pull up behind him.

"Hey Missy, I'm with the Detective." Dugan shouted.

"Call extra security, you're being invaded by the press." Jim quipped as he pulled through the gate and left Dugan to the tender mercies of the stern faced guard.

Ellison walked through the enclosed walkway. It was wide enough for three people abreast, but it was the only way to exit the parking area other than the gate. Another guard met him at the end of the walkway at a metal turnstile with a magnetic key reader.

"Officer Ellison?"

"Yes"

"This way sir."

The place was a veritable fortress, every access required a magnetic key, as they went higher into the building it also required eye scans. There were cameras covering every hall and doorway. Jim suspected that the Mission Impossible team wouldn't be able to break in.

"Miss Abbott will take you upstairs sir." Pointing to an extremely attractive woman in her mid-twenties. She was wearing a tailor fitted suit.

"Mr. Ellison, I am pleased to meet you." Her voice was cultured but sultry. "Mr. Farrell is waiting for you in his office."

She led him to a bank of elevators and inserted a magnetic key into a reader. The doors opened immediately. Once inside the car she re-inserted the key into the console on the elevator and pushed 25. The car moved rapidly upward. He could smell Black Pearls perfume. The scent was intoxicating, he always liked women with good taste in perfume. The doors opened onto a spacious reception area. The carpet was thick probably three hundred dollars a square foot, he thought. The walls were paneled in dark teak, several paintings adorned them. Jim thought he recognized a Frederic Remington. An older woman in a blue silk dress came forward.

"Thank you Laura, I'll escort Detective Ellison in."

"Yes ma'am."

"I'm Lila Jacobs" she said taking his hand in a firm handshake."I'm Mr. Farrell's executive assistant."

"Pleasure ma'am." she laughed a deep throaty laugh. "I'll bet, this way detective."

They walked down a corridor to a set of double doors, another mag reader. These led into an outer office where two secretaries were typing, and answering phones.

"My office is on the right." She led him to the left where a large oak door waited. She entered without knocking.

Jim was overwhelmed by the tasteful displays of wealth. Large heavy furniture, expensive cut crystal on a sideboard. Farrell was entering data on inlaid keyboard on his desktop.

"Marla give me a report on that in twenty minutes." Jim looked around for another person but no one else was there.

"Yes, Mr. Farrell," a feminine voice sounded.

"I'm sorry I can't spare more time detective." Farrell said without looking up from his desktop.

"Not at all sir, I must say you operate a well trained professional security department Mr. Farrell."

"Oh yes, they do excellent work." Farrell said with pride. "So how can I help today detective?"

"I would like to look at records of anyone who might have known about the transfer." Farrell's face darkened, but he nodded tightly.

"Anything else?"

"Well, that will do for starters, but I may need more." He was asking for a great deal, and Jim knew it, but the man had said "anything".

"Hmm, maybe a liaison would be the best thing." Farrell said. "Marla ask Laura to come here please." A couple of minutes, then the young lady entered the office. "Laura I want you to assist Detective Ellison in any way he needs. YOU REPORT TO ME, but follow his instructions, is that clear?"

"Yes Sir."

"Marla access security file, and identify voice pattern."

And with those rapid spoken words, Laura Abbot was given access clearance by a talking, thinking computer.

He heard rumors from his contacts at Langley, Farrell had a AI prototype that the government was *very* interested in acquiring the technology. There was supposed to be something wrong with the prototype, some rumor that the machine didn't *want* to work for the government. Blair had latched onto that statement and was about to join the ACLU to defend the rights of Intelligent Machines to come. Jim had just thought that someone was pulling his leg.

Now, he didn't think so. The machine, no Marla, not only took orders, but made suggestions, corrected Farrell, something Jim suspected no one else in the building dared do, and even made provisions for reciprocal clearance for Blair. Blair was still at the University, teaching until noon. Marla really was a major leap forward.

"Access granted." Marla announced after eye scans, hand scans, and voice checks.

"I'm sure that Detective Ellison is anxious to get to work Laura so unless there is anything else.. No?" Lila Jacobs asked.

"Well thank you for your help sir." Jim said and then turned to Miss Jacobs. "Ma'am."

"You are quite welcome Detective." Farrell waited until Ellison and Taylor left his office and then returned to his desktop. "Marla, tell me everything you can find out about this Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison. There's something fishy about that whole setup."

Jim and Laura made their way to Continental Security, located in the less fashionable west end of town. Outside it was a cold, concrete building, with no sign on the outside of what went on in the inside. Access to the facility was heavily guarded and he suspected that compared to what he could see of the buildings protection was nothing compared to what he couldn't see.

Laura left him in the employee cafeteria for a free breakfast, omelets to order, sausage, rasher of bacon, biscuits dripping with butter, and the best coffee he had ever had. All the stuff that Blair would have nagged him about eating. ~Hey, while the cat's away and all.~

He had finished breakfast and was kicking himself for leaving his thermos in the truck when Laura Taylor returned.

"I have an office for you with two desk and two terminals."

"Thanks." Jim rose and paused when he was about to set down the coffee cup, still half full.

"Bring it." Laura said with a smile.

Jim refilled the cup and then caught up with Laura. "How are the employees' reacting to my presence?"

"Some don't want you here because they want to solve the case themselves. Some don't like the idea of the police being here because it makes them uncomfortable to think that it might involve someone that they work with everyday. Some think that one cop is not enough."

"That cover everyone."

"Yes. I'm one of the 'one cop is not enough' party, if you are wondering."

"I was."

"The killers knew too much about that shipment to not have had access to secure information. That makes me suspect, if not someone directly in our employ, as part of it, then someone here gave the information to the killers and that is just as bad."

Jim took stock of this young woman with the tailored suit, Wharton School of Business manner, and every inch of her body radiating barely contained hatred for unknown killers. The word killers was a clue to her mind for Jim, not robbers, but killers. They had killed three of *her* people. Jim liked this woman.

The Continental Security Director, Mark Washington, was the tightly controlled center of the chaos that was the Con Sec headquarters. Jim and Laura were shown into his office while he finished a call to his wife.

"... no I don't think I can come home anytime soon. When Mother, gets there could you go sit with Hector's fiancee, Sonya? I know that Shelly Tanner has a full house of relatives but Sonya has no one. 8215 Bridgeway, apartment 18J." Washington read from his computer terminal. "No, Jeff's family are taking the company jet from New Jersey, they should be here tomorrow, in plenty of time for the company memorial. Tell Mom that I'll be sending Brian to pick up some clothes for me. She'll remember Brian."

Jim took a look at the walls of the plush, but not opulent, office. NAACP image award, picture of Washington shaking the hand of President Clinton, his MBA from UCLA, a picture of his Army Ranger unit, picture of his wife(?) at a graduation ceremony, picture of his daughter (?) at her confirmation. All things that were important to this man. Family man, pillar of the community type.

"Look, Honey, I have to get off the phone, the Detective is here. What? No, put her on the phone... Hello, Sweetheart, Daddy loves you too. No, I can't come home yet. I know you're scared, but Daddy needs to help find these bad men so they won't hurt anyone else. <Pause> Look, Sweetling, Grandma is coming to stay with us for a while, won't that be great? What? No, honey God would like it very much if you lit a candle for Jeff too, even though he was Jewish. I love you baby, but Daddy has to talk to the nice Detective now. Sure, I'll tell him. Goodbye."

Washington wiped at his eyes and then glanced at the picture facing him from his desk, it was his wife and daughter. "Sorry Detective Ellison, I needed to reassure my daughter, Charlie Tanner's daughter and she go to the same parochial school."

"I understand Mr. Washington, what did she want you to tell me?"

"That she wanted you to find the people who killed Megan's father."

"From her mouth to God's ear." Jim replied glumly. It was another phrase he had picked up from Blair, but it fit. "I just need the full list of people who knew what was in the shipment and what the route was."

"What? Look, Detective, we are a tight group here. You can't believe that anyone here would kill Charlie, Jeff, and Hector?" Washington rose from his chair.

"Mr. Washington, first, the person may not have realized that those men could have been killed, second they may have given the information out without realizing it, and finally, put yourself in my place. Where would you start?"

Washington returned to his seat and dropped his head into his hands. "I sorry, I'm just a little on edge here. I've been in this office for eighteen hours. I'll decrypt the personnel records and forward them to your terminal."

"Thank you, Mr. Washington." Jim followed Laura out of Washington's office.

"He really is one of the nicest people you could ever meet." Laura said as they went past office after office of hustling, bustling people.

"I'm sure he is, this must be torture to someone like him." Jim remarked as he watched the frantic activity all about him.

"It's torture to us all." Laura opened an unmarked office with a mag key which she then gave to Jim. Inside were two desks, two terminals, a drafting table, and four chairs.

"What it lacks in appeal, it makes up for in utility." Jim dead panned.

"Well, it does have something that you should appreciate." Laura turned on the terminal of the desk closest to the door. "Hello, Marla."

"Hello, Miss Taylor." Marla replied.

"I have access to Marla?"

"Yes you do, Detective Ellison. How may I help you?" Marla inquired.

Jim sat down at the desk and began calling up the employee files. After he asked that anyone without military experience be eliminated from the group, only two names dropped from the list. Damn. Of course, Farrell would favor people from the military sector for his security firm. They would already have the training necessary to become privately licensed. Hell, even the overweight cook in the cafeteria had served in the military.

Jim reduced the list dramatically by asking for only employees with combat training, between 5'6" and 6' 3" tall. The list was now down to thirty. Eliminating people without access to one part of the information that would have led them to the armored car and its contents, reduced the list again to twelve. All twelve were in the building.

Jim went around and spoke to each of those people, asking for their opinions and studying their faces and body language. It didn't help much, these people were under the kind of stress that would put your average person in the hospital. In fact, he would have arrested the first calm person he came across.

Just as he was becoming his most frustrated, Blair called. They had found the name of the former owner of the jaw, Holly Jamison. She had been a Lieutenant in the Army, Airborne, and most of her record was classified. Damn bureaucrats, he would leave them to the tender mercies of the FBI, noted specialists in wringing information out of closed mouth bureaucrats.

Jim called Agent Ebenja and explained about the situation with Holly Jamison. He didn't care what she did in the military he only wanted to know who she had trained with. The kind of cooperation that the killers had shown, meant they had worked together before.

"I'm closing in on you and make no mistake about it, I will find you." Jim whispered to himself.

They found the minivan at 7 o'clock in the evening. Jim crawled through the van, even though he knew that this group wouldn't leave any physical clues. At least not a physical clue that they were aware of. There were only a few hairs on the seats, something to match to the killers, but only if they could find them in the first place. Jim concentrated on memorizing the scent each person had left on their seat. They had been sweating heavily, enough to go through their clothes and concentrate on the seats.

Then he smelled it, a familiar odor. He concentrated. Yes, he had smelled this person today. Blair was calling him back.

"Sorry, Chief. I've smelt the person that sat in the rear, passenger side. I met them at the Con Sec building, today."

"That's great." Blair said with enthusiasm.

"It's not admissible and I can't get a warrant based on my nose, I'm not a bloodhound."

"I know, but it's a place to start. We head there first thing in the morning and you take a good sniff of the people you met yesterday."

Jim put down the phone after talking with Agent Ebenja, he was still having to bust some balls over getting Holly Jamison's military records declassified. Whatever she had done for the government, no one wanted to talk about it now, even with three dead. Ebenja promised to stay on it, as it was their only true lead.

This was not how he wanted to start his day. But, there wasn't anything else he could do about it. At least Blair would be able to work with him the entire day. He would especially need his guide today. He was going to be using his senses to their limits, it was all he had left.

Once again, Jim was treated to breakfast in the Con Sec employee cafeteria, Blair frowned at his selections, but said nothing. Other than to mutter something about "arterial blockage". Blair had the bran cereal and fresh fruit. He also managed to charm the head chef out of a carafe of the excellent coffee.

Jim settled in his assigned office and summoned the last twelve suspects in, one at a time. He asked direct and pointed questions about who knew what when. Things that they would expect him to ask, things that actually advanced the pursuit of the case. But he had another goal. He wanted a good smell of the person and if that was familiar he would show them a picture of Holly Jamison.

Blair was tapping the keys and smiling at the computer screen.

"Hey, Chief, if you intended to ask Marla out, I should tell you that she already has a man, and I don't think James Farrell is the type of man that shares."

Blair grinned. "Marla, ignore him, you know that you've just been waiting for a younger man to come along." Blair was in love with Marla. He had become smitten while he was engaged in cross referencing the name Holly Jamison with the twelve Con Sec employees, he found nothing. He had, however, managed to find a five year old picture of the woman, with Marla's help. She was a finely chiseled type, too strong featured to be considered conventionally pretty, but an arresting looking woman. She had never worked for Con Sec or any other division of Farrell Inc. "She has cold eyes", Blair had said and Jim had agreed. They were the eyes of someone you had to take seriously.

Jessica Kroner, special assistant to the Con Sec Director, walked into the small office that the Detective and his partner were using with her shoulders squared. She had expected this call since she had seen Detective Ellison in her office the other day. She knew there was no way she would not have been questioned, she had access to the vital information and therefore they needed to talk to her. She was the fifth person they had scheduled to talk with. Hopefully, she would be out of here in time to head out for lunch, then leave for the day. ~Let's get this over,~ she thought as she entered the room.

"Thank you for coming, Ms. Kroner." The Detective said as he indicated the chair facing him. "This is my partner Blair Sandburg."

The partner was not at all what she had expected. He was very young, with long dark hair, earrings, and he was chatting with Marla. Marla gave Jessica the willies and she never engaged the vocal input option. Machines should do what they are told and never talk back.

~Like I have a choice,~ Jessica thought as she took the indicated seat. She gave the Detective her 'working with a difficult client' smile. The partner was beneath her notice. ~Not a factor,~ she judged. ~The only trouble in this room is facing me.~

Jim took a deep breath and stopped. This was the one, and she was a *cool* customer, indeed. Her posture, her attitude all said highly trained, make a wrong move and I'll squash you like a bug. He stood and placed himself between her and Sandburg.

"Ms. Kroner, do you recognize this woman?" Jim signaled Blair to turn the screen with Jamison's picture on it toward Kroner.

The woman's face was an absolute mask of serenity but her heart was going a like a drum being beat by a three year old. Jim shook his head sadly.

"Her body was found in the remains the ambulance that was used in the robbery." Jim said with regret in his voice.

"Body?" Kroner's voice wavered only slightly, but her heart stepped up its beating.

"Well, it's funny almost to call it a body, more like parts. Blown into teeny tiny bits."

"Bits?" Kroner repeated.

"Yes, her family will be able to bury her in a 12 ounce tumbler." Jim said with his saddest eyes.

"Tumbler?"

"Is there an echo in this room. There wasn't enough her body left for her family to cry over. Maybe they can comfort themselves by passing the tumbler around. Even a child could serve as a pall bearer." Jim smiled as he made the motion of holding a tumbler of Jamison.

"Jim, that's terrible... No child could be trusted with the duty of being a pall bearer." Blair said in his most serious professor tone. "What if they spit in it? Or worse, what if they started shaking it around like it was dice? Can you imagine the scandal?"

Kroner shot out of her seat and nearly broke the neck of the long haired idiot at the console. Then she felt the detective's hand on her arm. "Let go or pull back a nub." Her voice was ice and she meant every word. Ellison released her arm. This was not going to happen. Not now when she had less than fourteen hours before she would be leaving the county. Not when Holly had died for that money.

"Unless you have something specific to ask, then I am leaving this 'ghoul' show you have going." She straightened her jacket and left the office.

Once outside the office, she shook herself violently. So close, so close to losing it in there. She was a "good little soldier" and she would not fail. He had nothing. She just had to hold it together for a little while longer. She fought back of the image of Holly's bones in a tumbler. The bastards, she would make them pay for that, one way or the other.

"It's her isn't it?" Blair asked excitedly.

"Yeah it's her and I don't have a thing to hang on her." Jim sat down at his desk.

"But if we just tell the FBI that we suspect her, then maybe they could keep tabs on her."

"Just two words to describe their response to that, Richard Jewel."

Richard Jewel had been tried and convicted of the Olympic Park bombing by the media, using information leaked from the office of the FBI. After weeks of living as a prisoner in his own home, with reporters perched outside his home like vultures, the FBI had made a public apology and no charges were filed. It was a major scandal and the FBI would be very reluctant to repeat that.

"Now what?" Blair asked.

"Now, we watch her and follow where she leads."

Blair turned back to the monitor. "Marla, can you tell us when Jessica Kroner leaves the building?"

"Yes, Blair, anything for you," came the sultry reply from the terminal.

"Chief, Farrell better watch his step. I see Marla has another suitor."

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End Episode Three

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Episode Four - Slipping through the cracks

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Ebenja would have pulled his hair out, if he had any. He went all the way to the Director's office and there was still no movement on the Jamison file. Finally, in desperation, he met with the National Security Director and let him win three rounds of golf and called in a major favor. He had the file an hour later. Now he knew why they didn't want the records to get out.

Officially, the US did not allow women into direct combat situations except as helicopter and jet pilots. Holly Jamison had successfully performed eight penetration and rescue missions, including three in the Persian Gulf. Women under direct combat fire.

Someone had shut them down and tried to hush the whole thing up. Ebenja would have been very proud of this woman and the seven others that went on those missions. Instead of being heroes they were hustled out the back door and told never to speak of their work again, under penalty of prosecution for violating the US Government Secrecy Act.

He called Ellison and told him he had the file and was flying back to Cascade with it. The security level placed on the file mean that he could not transmit it or discuss it over the phone. Ellison swore loudly and said that he had a suspect that would be out of the country before Ebenja made it to Cascade. He thought hard about it and made his decision. He read the rest of the names to Ellison over the phone. It was as far as he could go and keep his job.

"Chief, Kroner trained with Jamison." Jim said to his partner.

Blair looked up from studying plane passenger lists. "Is that enough to arrest her? Doesn't seem to be enough."

"No not enough for an arrest, but enough to bring her in for questioning." Jim walked to stand behind Blair, he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"How you doing on that search?"

"Kroner is booked on seven different flights, Jamison is booked on seven different flights, but the good news is that they are only booked on one flight together."

"Good job, Blair, we'll have the airport watched for that flight, plus the other six. She still might take another flight, now that Jamison is dead." Jim picked up his mobile phone. "By the way, where is the flight headed?"

"New York, London, and Zurich." Blair read.

"Plenty of places to get off."

"Do you want me to search for other reservations at that point?"

"Yeah, leave Marla on it if you have to." Jim dialed Simon's office. "Simon, here's the story so far.."

Jessica Kroner slipped out of her apartment and left the two cops sitting right outside, totally unaware. She was surprised to see surveillance, but time was short and she still had to make it to the Grand Ormand Hotel, pick up her share of the money, and then make it to the airport. She drove her rental car to the hotel.

Damn, everything was getting rushed. 'When things are rushed, things go wrong.' It was one of Audrey's favorite sayings. She would be back by now, probably had been at the hotel for at least an hour. Just a half an hour now and she would have her cut of the money, 33 million dollars. A hell of a lot of money, but she'd gladly give it all back, if Holly were alive.

Jim knew that Kroner was leaving the country and he knew she could slip past an ordinary surveillance team, but she wouldn't expect a second, and third layer of surveillance. Jim followed discretely, allowing several cars to separate them. Overhead, Blair, bless his manipulative soul, was following the car with Farrell's prized VTOL The fact that Blair managed to talk his way into a one of a kind, priceless, prototype vehicle would be the talk of the station for weeks.

They turned toward downtown, with Blair updating Jim on Kroner's changes of direction, and finally came to the Grand Ormand Hotel. The Grand Ormand was the finest, most elegant hotel in Cascade, and possibly , the entire state of Washington. Kroner parked and walked into the lobby.

Jim was just a few minutes behind her, parking, and then heading into the lobby himself. The rest of his team closed in. He was able to spot Kroner and two other women talking the lobby. They got on the elevator and pushed the button for a floor, then inserted a room key into the panel. That meant they were going to the Penthouse level, the one level that required that you use a room key to have access to the floor. Jim had become familiar with the security of the hotel during a Vice-Presidential visit. He knew he had just seen the other three members of the team. Damn, if only Ebenja had faxed him that file, then he would have enough to detain all three of them.

Jim called in descriptions of the three suspects and hurried over to the desk to ask about the occupants of the Penthouse level. The criminals could not have picked a better floor in a better hotel, than the Grand Ormand to assure anonymity. The clerk would not talk without approval from her supervisor. The supervisor would not talk without approval from the manager. The manager would not talk until she had approval from the owner or a warrant. Jim wanted to wring their necks.

He was able to get them to take him up to the penthouse level and let his SWAT team member in when they arrived. Jim turned from the desk to find himself staring into Sandburg's face.

"Not this time, Sandburg," Jim said as authoritatively as possible.

"Jim, I'm your guide, I should be with you."

"Blair, these women will kill you before you can scream. I couldn't live with that."

"Jim, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but do this for me. Go back outside and lead the team in here. The manager will let the team onto the Penthouse level." Jim put his hand on Blair's shoulder. "I'm counting on you."

"Okay, Jim." Blair held Jim's gaze for a moment, then headed back outside.

Jim took a deep breath, relieved that at least Blair would be safe. He adjusted his heavy body armor, these women preferred heavy firepower and his normal bulletproof vest would be worthless, and followed the manager into the elevator.

The elevator rose to the top floor in one smooth ascent. Engaging the penthouse key automatically locked out other floors from accessing the elevator. Jim instructed the manager to immediately return to lobby for her own safety.

The penthouse level was more elegant than the design award winning lobby. Jim turned to Penthouse B, following Kroner's scent. The three women were inside; Jim could hear them counting, shuffling paper, closing cases.

"... 33 million each, divided between smaller bearer bonds, gold certificates, and half a million in cash. Well that's it, the operation is over and we'll never see each other again."

"Good." Kroner's voice. "I never want to see either of you again."

"Take it easy, Jessica, Holly made a mistake and paid for it. It wasn't our fault." Third voice.

"It's alright, Dorothy, Jessica was always soft, especially when it came to Holly." First voice.

"Gail, you are not helping... let's just be civil and get the hell out of this town. I won't be easy until I am on some foreign soil." Dorothy speaking this time.

Jim braced himself for the women to emerge from the room. Still no sign of his backup. "Freeze, Cascade P.D."

Kroner swung her case into Jim's face and he fired once, the bullet striking her in the stomach. One woman fled north, the other closed the door to the suite. Kroner was lying on the floor still clutching the suitcase.

Jim started to kick the suite door when he heard the sound of heavy, automatic weapons fire and shattering glass. What the fuck? She was shooting out the windows, sixty-nine floors up? Jim kicked the door open in time to see the tall, black woman jump through the ragged edges of the shattered window.

"Nooooo!" Jim shouted as he rushed to the window. He looked down and saw not a falling body, but a floating body as the woman parachuted to the top of an adjacent building. Jim rushed out of the suite. "I want you to live, because I want to see you fry." Jim growled at Kroner's still body, then he followed the path of the woman that went north. She hit the stairs in a dead run and emerged onto the roof. The roof was currently closed for the season, but during late Spring and Summer, the roof was used for receptions. Currently the furniture was covered, making them look like ghosts hovering near the ground.

Jim felt, rather than saw, the case connect with his gun hand. The gun went sailing over the roof's edge and into the parking lot below. Her kick caught him midsection and nearly doubled him over in pain. The armor slowed penetration from bullets, but did nothing to diminish the impact. Jim closed with the woman.

She was tall, fit, and strong as hell. Her green eyes glinted back at him like a cat and her swarthy skin, black hair, and dark clothes forced him to concentrate on his sight to follow her movements.

His lower arms were numb from blocking her kicks. The body armor he wore to protect him from gunfire, was slowing him down in the hand-to-hand battle he found himself in. His height and strength weren't doing him any good in this fight. She was quicker and was landing two blows to his one. His cross punch was known to drop men, but had only made her smile at him.

~Finally,~ Blair, thought as the SWAT team emerged from their police van. He led them into the lobby and the waiting manger. Reluctantly, Blair returned to the VTOL and Marla. She was using the terminal interface to talk to Blair and monitor VTOL as if it *really* was on an official test run.

He dropped into the driver's seat, crossed his arms, and scowled.

"Would you like to play some chess?" Marla asked.

"No thanks, Marla, I need to keep watch."

"Okay, how about some Chopin?"

"That would be nice." Blair settled in to listen to the genius of Chopin's work, then he saw the small object smash through the awning and knock the logoed trash can over. His gut told him that something was wrong. He rushed to retrieve the item before the uniformed doorman could make himself return to his post.

It was Jim's gun, even cracked, he recognized it. If Jim had lost his gun, then he was in terrible trouble. Blair looked to the roof, seventy floors up. It was the only place that it could have come from, all the windows of the hotel were sealed. Blair ran back to the VTOL.

"Officer in trouble on the roof. Repeat, officer in trouble on the roof." He called into the SWAT team. Blair pulled the shoulder belt across and engaged the vertical lift. "Marla, open the glove box and give me the gun inside."

"Blair, I can't do that." Marla replied.

"Marla, I don't have time to argue. Jim is on the roof facing three trained killers, his gun is cracked, and won't fire. Now give me that fucking gun!"

Marla opened the glove compartment and Blair retrieved the gun.

"I hope you know what you're doing with that."

"I didn't waste all that time Jim spent training me. I know how to use guns, I just don't like them." Blair settled the VTOL on the roof, the force of the landing sending the furniture skittering around. ~Where was Jim? Please, don't let him be dead already.~

Jim felt his ribs give as his assailant landed another vicious blow to his chest. He was having trouble pulling in a breath. His vision was clouded by blood. He was numb and losing, losing badly.

The next kick sent him to his knees. He couldn't lift his arms to defend himself. The woman snicked out a knife, he recognized the sound, his hearing was all he had left. He was dead. Jim's last thoughts were of his partner, who would look after Blair?

Blair saw the woman and Jim on his knees, looking near death. The woman raised her arm, there was a knife in her hand. Blair fired, twice, and then closed the distance between them. He kicked the knife from her hand before touching Jim's neck. His heart was still beating, but he looked like hell.

"Jim, you still with me buddy?" Blair wanted to hold him and help him, but he didn't dare take his eyes from the woman.

"Blair?"

"Yeah, buddy, it's me."

"Where is she?" Jim asked through the pain in his chest.

"I shot her, I think she's dead." That was a lie, Blair now knew the woman was dead. His last look had confirmed that; part of her head was missing. Blair wanted to vomit, he had killed someone.

Jim closed his eyes. "Thanks, for saving me." Blair wrapped his arms around Jim. Willing the warmth from his body to that of his partner.

"You're welcome." Blair turned to see half of the SWAT team emerge onto the roof. "Over here, I need a medic and a stretcher!" Blair called to the team.

"How did you beat us up here?" The team leader asked as he assessed the situation.

Blair pointed at the VTOL still purring on the roof. "I got a ride from a friend."

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End Episode Four

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Epilogue

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Jim had three broken ribs, a concussion, and two broken fingers, but he still insisted on attending the Con Sec memorial service for its three fallen employees. It provided a sense of closure to a case he would never close.

Jessica Kroner had survived his bullet but still refused to talk about the robbery, even though she was facing the death penalty. Dorothy Patterson was dead, killed by Blair, with two shots, one to the head and the other to the upper chest.

It was really excellent shooting, but not the kind of thing that Blair needed to hear. Blair would have to face an inquiry over that, but no one doubted how that would go, Blair would be cleared. His soul would take a little longer to clear. Blair was, above all other things, a man of peace.

Jim turned away from the crowd and sought out James Farrell. "May I have a word, Sir, in private."

"Of course, Detective Ellison." Farrell directed Jim to the back of his limo. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you would still be in the hospital."

"I checked myself out, against doctors orders." Jim winced as he eased the portfolio out of his jacket. Farrell reached over and helped him. "I needed to show you this."

Jim opened the portfolio and displayed the TOP SECRET logo on the folder and waited. Farrell nodded, acknowledging that he did NOT seen this folder or its contents.

"This is the squad that Kroner, Jamison, and Patterson served on. This is the woman that I saw with them." Jim pointed to the dark skinned beauty with the luminous eyes and serious face. At the corner of the picture was the date and time stamp from the security camera. According to the hotel record, her name is Angela Gail Wicks. That's the woman I saw."

Farrell looked up, face stern. "Who is she?"

"I don't know, but that's the woman I saw. That's the woman who killed three of your people and stole 100 million dollars from you."

Farrell shifted in his seat. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I can't close this case. Kroner is more afraid of her than lethal injection. Patterson and Jamison are dead. We recovered two thirds of the money and the FBI is having press conferences over it. People are telling me to drop it, but I can't."

"What do you expect me to do, when the official channels can't do anything?"

"I'm just letting you know the score, Sir. You strike me as the kind of person who could take care of things, armed with the right information." Jim picked up the portfolio and *accidentally* let a photocopies of Angela Gail Wicks' picture and the squad information fall to the floor. "Thank you for your time, Sir."

"Take care of yourself, Detective. I might be able to find something out and then you and your GUIDE could put your SPECIAL skills to work on what I find." Farrell waited until Jim had made it out of the limo, then the limo glided away.

Maya Kimbel, formerly Angela Wicks, stretched out her arms and invited the Jamaican sun inside her bones. Two weeks after she had left Cascade and even the local paper was still following the story. All woman mercenary team rob and kill. Maya shook her lovely head at the wickedness of the world.

Here she could blend in, her appearance made her look native born, and her accent was flawless from hearing it at her Grandmother's knee. She fit in and she had 33 million dollars to spend as she wished. It was a shame about Dorothy, she had liked Dorothy, but Kroner... Kroner was weak. She would rather face a merciful death than something that Angela could think up.

Ah, another flawless day to enjoy her beautiful home, her private beach, and her quiet. She stepped out onto the porch, swung her towel over her shoulder, and then ran an impatient hand through her tight curls. Lovely, she thought as she watched the sun continue its rise.

Jim looked up from his terminal, he was still stuck on desk duty, to find Agent Ebenja walking toward him.

"It is good to see you on your feet, Detective Ellison." Ebenja said with a smile.

"More like on my ass." Jim shook the agent's hand and then indicated the chair facing his desk. "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to tell you in person that the Continental Securities case is now officially closed. They believe she is in Europe so it's now officially an Interpol case." Ebenja ran a smoothing hand over his pate. "I just thought that you would like know. How is your partner?"

"He's getting counseling, this will take some of the worry off his shoulders. I think he believed that Wicks would come after him, not that he'd admit it to me."

"Well, hopefully, this will ease his mind."

"Thank you for taking the time to come by Agent Ebenja."

Ebenja rose with a smile and left the office. Jim pulled the Con Sec file from his desk drawer and wrote CASE CLOSED, in blood red ink, on the outer cover and returned it to his desk. ~It's not over,~ he thought, ~not until I bring you in.~

The End