One
week later
"Are
you sure you want to do this?"
Pete asked his newest employee.
Blair
Sandburg did not look at his face.
Instead, his focus was on the files that Pete held in his hands. "I'm sure. I want to know everything.
I need to know, Pete."
Pete
nodded. "Can I show you something
else first?"
Blair
rolled his eyes at him. "Do you
have to?"
"I'd
like to."
"Fine." It was more a sigh than a word. "What is it?"
"Okay,
I've been waiting to tell you this until I thought you could deal with it. Now, I suppose since you're ready to deal
with this stuff." He indicated the
files he held. "Maybe you're ready
for what I have to say." He took a
deep breath. "All right, here
goes. Before MacNamara died, I cut a
deal with him for my silence. He gave
me a substantial sum of money to keep my mouth shut about his part in your
abduction."
"What?" Blair looked appalled, and Pete started
wishing he had waited for Kit to get back into the office before he started
this. Kit had a knack for smoothing
ruffled feathers, and Pete had a feeling he was about to ruffle lots and lots
of Blair's feathers.
He
reached into his jacket pocket and brought out the bankbook. He handed it to Blair. "It was when we thought you might need
at least semi-permanent care. I took it
for you, Blair. Then when Senator Adams
heard what had happened—"
"Your
version, you mean?"
"Yes,
my version. He felt you deserved some
compensation for your ordeal."
Blair
was staring at the book, but he had not opened it. He shook his head suddenly and held the book out to Pete. "I can't take it. It's not right."
"The
hell it's not!" Pete exclaimed.
"You listen to me, Blair Sandburg.
You deserve every dime of that money and more after what they did to
you."
"It's
blood money, sort of. You know what I'm
saying?" He threw the book on the
table when Pete did not take it.
"Yeah,
and it was your blood, so it's your money!
Take it, Blair. Pay off your
student loans. Use it to get your
doctorate. Blow it on fast women and good
wine. Who cares! Just take it. And there is one other thing.
I spoke to Senator Adams and he is more than willing to write you a
recommendation to Georgetown University.
Think about it. You could get
your doctorate from Georgetown.
Wouldn't that just tweak the nose of the good Chancellor Edwards of
Rainier? Blair, I know that you say you
want to work here, but why?"
"What
do you mean why?"
"Why
do you want to work here? You want my
theory?"
"Not
really."
"Tough. I'm the boss. I get to spew my theories any time I want. I think that you're here because you don't
know where else to be. Blair, this job
is not that different from being a cop and I don't think that would have been
your first choice of careers either. In
fact, our work is even more violent.
You'll still have to carry a gun and know how to use it. You don't want that. I've let this slide for a while because you've
been learning the office and the computer systems, but it's time to move on
from that. I'm trying to give you options,
Blair. You can have your
doctorate. You can be an anthropologist
again. Or you can be a man of leisure. Trust me, there's enough there to relax on
for quite some time. Or you can learn
the trade here and work for me. I just
want the choice to be yours, freely, without reservation."
Blair
sighed then gave him a half-smile. He
reached for the book and opened it hesitantly.
"Holy shit!"
Pete
laughed. "Dinner's on you tonight,
right?"
"Funny. I can’t believe you did this."
"Well,
somebody had to do something. So, are
you pissed?"
"Not
exactly. Georgetown?"
"Yep,
Georgetown. I even think that I can
speed things up for you—"
"No,
thanks, but that's fine. You've done
enough already."
"How
come you, Kit and Alex can all make that sound like an insult rather than a
compliment?" Pete grinned at him.
"It's
a gift. Now, give me the files."
"Don't
mince words, do you?"
"What
would be the purpose of that? Hand them
over, Pete. I'm not going to give up on
this."
Pete
placed the files down on the table in front of Blair. "It's ugly. I hope
you're prepared for it. I'll leave you
alone for a while. If you need me, I'll
be in my office."
Blair
nodded, never taking his eyes off the folders.
Pete sighed and left him to it.
Three
hours later, Blair closed the file that Alex Morrow had stolen from MacNamara's
office and sat back in the chair. He
was not sure whether he wanted to cry, scream or laugh. He scooped both folders up from the table
and headed across the office lobby to Pete's door. He knocked lightly then opened the door. He peeked in.
"Come
on in, Blair," Pete said, a thoughtful look on his face.
"I'm
finished with these." He told him as he entered the office and walked over
to Pete's desk to place them on one corner.
"And? Are you okay?"
"I
don’t know. I'm not sure. It's all so confusing. You know, Rose said I was handpicked. They had a profile and all that. At least that what he told me, but Pete,
there is no profile. Not really. There's nothing in there that wouldn't apply
to hundreds, thousands of people. They
wanted someone in the fields of Social Science, so he could understand the
research. They wanted someone young, so
the person could be trained rather than retrained. They wanted someone of above average to genius level
intelligence. The only reason it ended
up being me was because I read Burton's research and was interested in the
concept, and I just happened to live in the same town as Jim, which is pretty
coincidental when you think about it.
Why would he want me to believe that I was handpicked from some
'special' profile? It hardly seems
important at all. Wait, yes it
does. It was important that we believed
that I was the one, possibly the only one, that fit. It would obligate me. It
would obligate Jim. It would make me believe that I had to help because no one
else could, and it would make Jim feel responsible for me."
Pete
was nodding. "Smart."
"Evil. That's what it is. But Adler hated me and didn't want me. Guess Rose didn't plan on that.
Or hell, maybe he did. Maybe
once he found out about Alex, he intended for me to work with her and that
other guy to work with Jim."
"I
don't think Rose cared what happened to Jim, Blair. He said that Adler and the Army could have Jim. He was more interested in getting Barnes
ready for MacNamara and whoever was backing him," Pete explained.
Blair
frowned. "And my grants and
scholarships, over half of them came from Rose apparently. That really sucks."
"Sorry."
So
was Blair, but that was not what had hurt the most. "Did you know Jim was planning on leaving? There's a plane ticket in there." He pointed to the folder.
"It's
not what it looks like. Jim had two
safety deposit boxes, one for him and one for you. They found his. They
didn't find yours. He had separate ones
in case they got to him before they got to you. You could still get away."
"Then
he didn't—he wasn't going to leave me behind?
Oh god, I was blaming him for it all.
But he didn't know about me, did he?
The file isn't clear on that, but he really didn't know." Blair was stunned. He had thought that Jim knew about the whole thing, that when his
repressed memories came back, he had known that Blair had been chosen to be his
guide.
"No,
Blair, he didn't."
"But
he knew they were coming at some point, and he didn't tell me. He should have told me!" He knew he was practically shouting.
"I
agree."
Blair
held up his hands and took a deep breath.
"I'm not going to get into that now. I'm putting that to the side right now."
"Okay." There was a slight chuckle in Pete's
voice. Blair glared at him. "Sorry," Pete said hurriedly. "It's just that you sounded like Kit
just then."
Blair
forgave him and shrugged before continuing.
"And MacNamara. That file
is even worse! A sentinel breeding
program! The guy was a monster."
"Blair,
Rose was working for MacNamara. They
were in this together. It's just that
Rose's file is the cleaned-up for Adler's and the company's use version. I have no doubt in my mind that Rose is going
to use Alex Barnes to make him some little sentinels if he figures out a
way. I also know that if he manages to
fix her senses and tighten the loose screws in her head, he'll use her skills
on the black market."
"That's
sick."
"Well,
that's the lay of the land, my friend."
"We
have to stop him."
"Yeah,
I think we do. I have some folks poking
around for information on Rose but so far, no luck. I'll let you know when I have something."
"Wait,
you said something else. You said,
Adler's and the company's use version.
I thought the CIA was responsible."
"To
a point. But Blair, even the CIA would
think twice before setting up a human breeding camp. Senator Adams told me that they seemed a little too stunned when
he confronted them with that file. The
old man is annoying as hell, but one reason he is so annoying is because he's a
good judge of character. He says the
CIA higher-ups were unaware of that particular part of Ron's little scheme at
least. They knew about Jim and the
project and ended up admitting to its questionable legality, but not the
breeding thing. They even seemed to
think that you came along willingly.
They didn't seem to know that you were taken against your will. And the Pentagon was even more unaware of
what was going on. Adler was crazy, a
loose cannon. He'd lost it and Rose
took advantage of it. I think Rose and
MacNamara were working for somebody else.
It's the only thing that makes sense.
Ron was free and clear with me.
I wasn't going to hand him over to Adams because he agreed to help
me. So, the way I figure it, he was
either too scared of his employers to give them a shot at him and offed himself
or they offed him for caving to me and made it look like suicide. Ron thought a little too highly of himself
to commit suicide just because I kicked his ass at his own game. No, Ron would have come after me and got his
revenge or at least tried to. We are
not out of the woods yet, Blair."
Blair
gathered up the files again and got up.
"Where
are you going?" Pete asked him.
"To
go through these one more time. There's
got to be something in here that will give them away. Some little detail not hidden just right or something. My first time through these, I was too busy
being mad and—well, hurt to be objective.
This time, I'm going to find what they were hiding and then we are going
to nail Rose's ass to the wall."
He turned and left then, vaguely aware of Pete's incredulous eyes and
slack jaw as the man stared at him.
Simon
Banks stood at his window, the one that looked out over the bullpen, and
watched Jim Ellison. Jim had returned
to work that morning. Simon had tried
to dissuade him, but he was determined.
So far, he had shifted papers and files from one corner of his desk to
the other several times, stared at his computer, taken a few calls and just
generally looked lost. Simon
sighed. He looked down at the file in
his hand. While it was true that he had
wanted Jim to take a little more time for himself before he returned to work,
he had finally determined that Jim needed something to do if he was going to be
on duty. It would, at least, occupy his
mind. Slapping the file against his
leg, he made up his mind. He strode out
of his office, motioning to Joel Taggert as he made his way to Jim's desk. "Jim, I have case for you. Joel will be riding with you on this. There's been a series of robberies, all high
tech stuff. A security officer was
killed during the last one so it was kicked to us this morning. I need you to head over to Watson Technology
and see what you can find out."
"Sure,
Captain." He stood and reached for the file.
"Jim,
are you sure you're ready?" Simon touched his arm.
"Yeah. I need to do something, sir."
Simon
nodded and relinquished the folder in his hand. Joel was waiting quietly near the door to Simon's right. Simon nodded to him and Joel returned the
nod with a small smile. Jim grabbed his
coat and followed Joel out of the door of the bullpen, leaving his captain and
friend to wonder if he was doing the right thing. In the meantime, there was something he wanted to do. Something that he had wanted to do for a
week. He turned and walked back into
his office and picked up the phone. He
dialed the number and waited for someone at The Devereaux Agency to answer the
phone.
Fifteen
minutes later, he hung up the phone and sat back in his desk chair. Despite
Devereaux's news that he was certain that there was a dangerous third party
still out there to be dealt with, he had been somewhat encouraged by
Devereaux's other news. Blair was doing
well, and he was thinking. Devereaux
had told him that Blair had gone through both Rose's and MacNamara's files and
realized that Jim had not set him up.
Simon could only hope that this was the first step toward Blair
forgiving Jim and coming home. Yes, Jim
had made a mistake or two, but, much to Simon's relief, he had not
intentionally hurt Sandburg.
Perhaps
Blair only needed a little push.
Simon's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in thought. Perhaps if Blair could be reminded that he
had other friends in Cascade willing to help him, he would come on home and try
to work things out with Jim. He picked
up the phone once again. This time,
when he hung up, he had reservations on a flight to Washington, D.C. in the
morning, if one could call 4:40am morning.
He had stayed out of this quite long enough. Blair was his friend and so was Jim. Neither of them could be happy with the way things had
ended. Jim felt as if he did not have
the right to search out Blair, so be it.
Simon, however, figured that he had every right. After all, he cared for the kid, and he
wanted his friend back. That was right
enough for Simon.
Alex
Morrow yawned as he walked into the office.
It was getting quite late and he had spent the entire day trying to hunt
down information on Ron MacNamara's activities over the last several
months. He ran one hand through his
dark hair. Perhaps it was time for a
haircut. He had been wearing it a bit
long lately but it was nearly touching his shoulders now. That was a bit much. Soon, he would look like Jesse and Kit. Well, not like Kit. The man wore his hair almost all the way
down his back. Alex shook his head and
smiled to himself.
He
was just about to knock on his boss's door when he noticed Blair Sandburg in
one of the other rooms. Sandburg seemed
completely engrossed in what he was reading.
Alex had met the younger man when he had picked up his co-workers and
boss at the airport. Alex saw in Blair
Sandburg the same sadness and confusion that he had seen in Jim Ellison when he
was here. Yet, Sandburg was not content
to sit back and let others deal with the problems. He was like a man obsessed.
He had learned the computer system in less than a day. He had absorbed every word that Pete had
said, learned every aspect of the mundane operations of the agency in only a
few days. Then something strange
happened.
Pete
started stalling. Sandburg should have
been turned over to one of the field operatives for training. He had even volunteered to take Sandburg
on. Pete had looked horrified. Alex would have been insulted had he not
known that Sandburg had a phobia of guns.
He realized that Pete was worried that maybe Alex's brand of training
would have been a little overwhelming.
But that did not explain why Pete was still dancing around the
subject. Both Jesse and Kit had offered
to train him as well. Jesse would
probably be perfect in Alex's opinion.
Sandburg seemed to pick up the computer system so fast, after all. At any rate, Sandburg was still puttering
around the office most of the day, offering to do this or that for whomever was
present, only to have Pete give him some trivial task.
Now
though, Sandburg seemed very intense and focused on what he was looking at, and
Alex could not help but wonder what had him so enthralled. He redirected his steps to the small
conference room where the younger man sat.
"Hello," he greeted as he entered.
Sandburg
jumped a little and jerked his eyes up to Alex's. "Oh, hi Alex."
"I
didn't mean to startle you."
"That's
okay. I wasn't paying attention."
"I
could see that. What are you looking at
so hard?"
"The
files about—well, Jim and me. And Alex
Barnes, too. I'm trying to find some
clue to where Rose might have gone and who might have been backing him besides
the CIA and the Pentagon. I mean, we
have already determined that the vast majority of the Pentagon was oblivious,
right?"
"Right."
"And
we now know that the CIA was not aware of the breeding program."
"So
they say."
"You
think otherwise?"
Alex
shrugged as he pulled out a chair and sat down across from Sandburg. "I don't know. I don’t put anything past governments
anymore." He leaned forward and
reached for one of the files. "May I?"
"Sure,
I could use all the help I could get.
Anyway, Pete thinks that they didn't know so he thinks that there's a
third player and that that third player may be sheltering Rose and Barnes
now."
"Okay,
then let's see what we can find."
Two
hours later, Sandburg shoved the open file away and put his head down on the
table. "There's nothing. How can there be nothing?"
Alex
sighed and closed the file in front of him.
"Maybe we aren't looking in the right places. We've poured over every piece of paper in
here."
"I
guess I should have realized that they wouldn't have been careless enough to
leave clues in here. I mean, even
MacNamara never mentions a name and this was his personal file!" Blair sat
up and Alex saw anguish in the blue eyes that begged him silently to find some
answer somewhere.
"Well,
Pete thinks he was pretty scared of his employer. He wouldn't finger them even on the threat of taking the fall
himself when Pete confronted him. He
would make sure that his written records wouldn't give them away either. Okay, perhaps we were asking too much to
expect a name or blatant reference.
What if the reference is there but not in a form we can see? We need Jesse." Alex reached for the phone.
Sandburg
stopped him before he could lift the receiver.
"Alex, it's after midnight.
Even Pete's gone home. I guess
it can wait until morning. Let's go
home. Kit is probably getting worried
about me by now."
"I
doubt it. Kit's probably not home
himself yet. Pete sent him to Baltimore
to check out Rose's last employer. He
didn't tell you?"
"I
didn't get to see him today. Who was
Rose's last employer?"
"Well,
I use employer for lack of a better word.
Let's just say that he was getting quite a bit of money from these
people for what his income tax records called contracted independent research. Someplace called Millennium Research
Foundation. And if it didn't seem fishy
enough, we are having a hell of a time trying to track down the actual
owner. Even Jesse couldn't find a clear
trail, so Pete sent Kit to snoop around.
And Jess is still trying to get into their computer system. It's closed up tight, though."
"Millennium
Research? Where have I heard that
before? Wait!" He grabbed the discarded file and began to
frantically search through it. He
snatched up one sheet of paper and waved it at Alex. "Here it is! I got a
grant from them, two actually. This may
be it, Alex. It's gotta be it! Millennium Research."
"Good. Then maybe Kit will bring us something
back."
"Yeah,
maybe." Sandburg seemed to deflate
then.
"You're
tired. I'll drive you to Kit's."
"Thanks."
"No
problem, it's on the way."
"I
thought you lived out in the woods somewhere."
"I
do when I can. When I'm working, I have
an apartment here in the city. It's not
as secure as I'd like. It's a locked building and has alarms, but I'd rather
trust my own kind of security. Of
course, the other tenants wouldn't appreciate my idea of security very
much."
Sandburg
quirked an eyebrow at him but did not ask.
He just slipped his jacket on and followed Alex out of the office. They were in the elevator heading down to the
garage when Sandburg finally spoke again.
"Would
you teach me to handle a gun? I'm not
completely without experience. I have
fired a gun, you know. I just need to
get comfortable with it."
Alex
smiled and met his eyes frankly.
"I can't teach you comfort.
What I can teach you is skill.
Perhaps with skill will come comfort.
Are you sure you're ready?"
"Gotta
do it sometime. Besides, maybe if I
take the initiative, Pete will stop hovering over me like a mother
hen." There was almost a real
smile on his face.
Alex
laughed. "Pete is a mother
hen. He does that to us all from time
to time."
"Well,
he's as bad as J—never mind."
"I
met your Jim, you know?"
"He's
not my Jim," Sandburg muttered bitterly.
"You
know what I mean. Anyway, he seemed
like a fairly decent fellow. A little
slow on the uptake but not a bad sort."
"No,
he's not a bad sort."
"You
know, one of the drawbacks to being human is our enormous capacity for making
mistakes. Devastating mistakes,
sometimes. But one of our human virtues
is that most of us have the capacity for forgiveness. Some of us have more of a capacity than others. Me?
I'm still working on mine. What
about you?"
Sandburg
stared at him for a long moment before closing his eyes and swallowing
hard. When he opened his eyes again, he
shrugged a little and said, "I guess I'm working on mine too."
"Good. As long as we are working on it, we are
making progress in our humanity, eh?"
"Yeah." The rest of the trip was made in silence.