Inevitable Series 04 The Unrelenting Read online

  Blair tensed. Knew he had to watch what he said around this man. That one wrong statement could earn him a black eye or a busted rib. Or worse. "Sorry."

  The man released him. "That's better." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a red bandanna and said, "Turn around."

  "Why?" Blair managed, his throat suddenly tight.

  The hand once more shot up and struck him. "You need to learn to do as you're told without question. Now turn around."

  Moving slowly, Blair turned his back. He expected to have his arms wrenched behind him or feel the cloth in his mouth. Instead, it was placed over his eyes, blinding him. His heart pounded against his ribs as the man took his arm and turned him back around.

  Why the blindfold? What don't they want me to see?

  Hands gripped his shirt again and pushed him forward. Blair stumbled through the still open door, hitting his shoulder on the doorjamb. One beefy hand gripped his left arm and dragged him along.

  "Where are we going?" he asked, struggling to remain upright on the uneven flooring beneath his feet.

  "What did I say about asking questions." The hand on his arm increased in pressure until Blair winced in pain. He remained silent as he was dragged along beside this man. Their footsteps echoed loudly as they walked and Blair knew that wherever they were, it was a large structure.

  "In there." The man shoved Blair ahead of him. He stumbled but managed to remain upright. "You have a half hour to get cleaned up so use the time wisely."

  Blair heard a door close and lock behind him. Then he could hear the man's heavy footsteps as he retreated. Reaching up, his hands shaking, he pulled off the blindfold and looked around. He was in a small bathroom complete with a sink, toilet and shower.

  For a moment, he considered not getting cleaned up. Just waiting for his captor to return. But only for a moment. He wanted to shower. Longed to feel the hot water as it washed over him. Stepping to the shower, he turned on the water. After getting it as hot as he could stand it, he stripped and stepped inside. He stood for several moments just letting the water wash over him, relishing the soothing spray, trying not to think about what would happen to him when his half-hour was up.

  ##########

  Simon tossed his keys on his kitchen table and dropped his mail beside them. Another day and they were still no closer to finding Blair. He glanced toward his refrigerator but didn't really feel like eating. Couldn't help but wonder if the kid were eating.

  Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes. Dammit, they had to find him. Jim wouldn't last much longer without him. His mind turned once more to the talk the two of them had had earlier in his office. He knew Jim believed what he had told him about Sandburg but Simon just couldn't go along with it. Accepting Jim as a Sentinel was one thing. But this…?

  He'd call Jim later. Maybe even go over to the loft. He knew Jim hadn't slept much in the last week. And Simon hadn't seen him eat a thing all day.

  "Dammit, Sandburg. We need you to come home."

  ##########

  Blair jerked his head up, blinking in confusion. Where the hell...? The shower. He was still in the shower. Had he actually fallen asleep standing up? The water had just felt so good. So relaxing. He shook his head, trying to clear his sleep muddled mind.

  Okay, Sandburg, shake it off and get yourself together.

  Stepping from the shower, Blair noticed a new set of clothes piled beside the sink. His clothes were gone. A chill ran through him when he realized that he'd been so out of it in the shower that he hadn't even heard someone come in to make the exchange. Could this be an after effect of his earlier experiment? No. He was simply tired. Once he got a good night's sleep and some food in him, he would be fine.

  But I won't do it again, he told himself. Just to be on the safe side.

  He lifted the clothes left for him. A pair of brown Ralph Lauren pants and a cream colored sweater. Beside the toilet sat a pair of brown Italian loafers. He raised an eyebrow. Well, at least he was a captive in style now.

  As he pulled on the clothes, he noticed a razor sitting on the back of the toilet, beside it, his glasses. He finished dressing, slipped on his glasses and began shaving. With each stroke of the razor, he found himself wondering again about Brackett. Why hadn't he seen him? And why did Therman and Grahm need the thug that had dragged him here if they had Brackett? The thought made his hand jerk and he cut himself. "Damn."

  Blair dabbed at the cut on his cheek. He's gone to get Jim, he told himself. Brackett's gone to get Jim and they'll be here soon.

  But he wasn't really sure how strongly he believed that anymore. In fact, with each passing minute, Blair was getting the distinct feeling that he had been a fool to trust Brackett.

  The door behind him opened. He spun to face the man that had brought him here.

  "Well, don't you look all spiffy," he sneered. His hand smoothed down the front of his own expensive looking suit. "They do like to keep us in style." Stepping inside, he nodded toward the bandanna where Blair had left it on the floor. "Pick that up."

  Blair did as he was asked, holding it out to the man. Then taking off his glasses, setting them on the side of the sink, he turned without being asked. The blindfold went over his eyes again.

  "Very good," the man said as he knotted the cloth at the back of his head. "You learn quickly." He turned Blair around and shoved him hard against the wall. Then leaning in close, whispered in his ear, "You really did clean up nice." Blair shivered as the man's hot breath spilled against his neck. A moment later, a hand stroked down the side of Blair's face. "Real nice."

  Blair shoved the hand away, his breath coming in short gasps. "Don't--"

  The man yanked Blair's head painfully to one side, his hand fisted in his hair. "You're going to wish later that you were nicer to me now." He pulled Blair away from the wall and shoved him through the door. No longer guiding him by the arm, he simply pushed Blair from behind each time he hesitated in his steps. Blair moved slowly, hoping the man would not allow him to fall down a flight of stairs or step off a ledge.

  As he walked, Blair could smell food. His stomach clenched at the aroma. All he had thought about for days was food but now...now the thought of it made his stomach turn. He was shoved to his left and now the smell of food combined with that of pipe tobacco.

  "What took so damn long, Walsh?"

  Blair jerked his head toward this new voice, a voice tinged with impatience.

  "Well, sit him down. The food's getting cold."

  "Relax, Caleb," another voice said as Blair was shoved forward and forced into a chair. "And you can remove the blindfold."

  Before Blair could react, the cloth around his head was torn away, taking several pieces of his hair with it. "Hey, man," he complained, rubbing the side of his head.

  The man who had brought him here, whose name he now knew was Walsh, smiled down at him. The look in his eyes sent a chill through Blair. "I would have been here sooner but I had a few problems," he said softly.

  Blair dragged his gaze from Walsh and looked around his new surroundings. He was in a large room lit only by candlelight. There was something about it that seemed familiar but he couldn't quite place it. The table before him was littered with small pedestals topped with silver domes, the food concealed beneath each gleaming lid. The pipe tobacco came from a man who stood on the other side of the table. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his face lost in the deep shadows of the room. Another man stood just to Blair's left. He looked to be in his mid forties, his hair peppered with gray. His vested black tailored suit had a watch chain dangling from the pocket.

  "I must apologize for all the cloak and dagger stuff," the man beside him said. "You see, Caleb and I have a theory about you and Ellison and the blindfold was the only way we could test it." He moved forward and extended his hand. "Spenser Therman."

  Blair hesitated only a moment before accepting the offered hand. The shake was strong, confident. Exactly what Blair would have expected.<
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  "And this is Caleb Grahm," Therman said, indicating the man on the other side of the table. Therman turned toward his colleague. "Caleb, come and meet our guest."

  Grahm moved forward slowly, the pipe trailing smoke around his head. As he stepped into the dim light, Blair saw the harsh lines of his face, the sharp chin. But it was his eyes that made Blair want to look away. They were dark, unsettling. Blair could imagine this man staring down any number of business associates. Closing deals with just a glare.

  Grahm stepped to the table, stood opposite of Blair and looked down at him as if he were a bug he needed to scrape from the windshield of his car. "I thought you said you were going to do something about his hair."

  Blair stiffened. The man spoke as if he were not there. As if whatever he wanted or needed from Blair he could take without his permission.

  "There's plenty of time for that, Caleb," Therman said, taking the seat to Blair's left. "The clothes fit him perfectly. I told you they would."

  Caleb Grahm sat on the edge of the table across from them. "They don't hang right on him," he said, his gaze making another slow sweep over him. Blair swallowed hard, keeping his gaze forward. "And he cut himself shaving."

  Blair resisted the urge to cover the small nick with his hands. Instead, they remained in his lap, bunched around the bottom of the expensive sweater he wore. The sweater Caleb Grahm thought hung on him wrong.

  "Caleb wanted to get you a suit," Therman said, his hand brushing across Blair's shoulder, straightening the sweater. "But I didn't think you were the suit type. This is much better, don't you think?" Shifting his attention, he reached out and lifted the lid on one of the dishes before them. "Are you hungry, Mr. Sandburg?"

  Blair blinked several times, taken off guard by the fact that someone had finally addressed him directly. "What?"

  "Hungry? Would you like something to eat?" Therman indicated a plate of potatoes. "Can I call you Blair?" he asked, spooning a generous portion of the food onto the plate before him. "It just seems so formal to call you Mr. Sandburg when we're going to be spending so much time together."

  Blair tensed at the implication of those words.

  Therman seemed not to notice and continued to spoon food onto Blair's plate adding a slice of beef and a roll. "You can call me Spenser and him Caleb."

  Blair looked again to the man across from him. Grahm let out a ring of smoke, his gaze narrowed slightly. And somehow, Blair couldn't see himself calling this man by his first name. His stomach roiled as the smell of the food that Therman continued to pile on his plate reached him. "Hey, man, I'm not really hungry."

  "I'm sorry." Therman set down his serving spoon, shaking his head. "Walsh told us about your little...problem." He signaled to Walsh who came forward and took the plate away. His gaze lingered a little too long on Blair for his comfort.

  "I'd like to know why I'm here," he asked, dragging his gaze back to Therman.

  "Brackett already explained that to you." He glanced toward Walsh. "Play back that part of the tape."

  Seconds later, Jim's voice filled the room.

  "What's their interest in my partner?"

  "He fascinates them. It's as simple as that."

  Blair closed his eyes as the tape continued to play back the conversation they had had out on Harson's Road. Jim had been right. These men had been watching them, had heard the entire exchange. The whole damn thing had been a set-up and like a fool, he had fallen for it, had believed every lie Brackett told him. "Where's Brackett now?" he asked when the tape was turned off.

  "Long gone," Grahm said. "All he had to do was bring you to us and he was a free man."

  "But you really shouldn't feel all that bad," Therman added amicably. "Brackett was very convincing. I half believed him and I knew the plan."

  Blair opened his eyes, turning a hard glare on the two men who had gone to so much trouble to bring him here. "Why?" he breathed.

  "Why the game?" Therman asked. "You could call it our own little study in human nature. You should appreciate that, being a scientist yourself."

  "We wanted to see if Brackett could convince you to trust him," Grahm continued, letting out a long trail of smoke. "We both knew Ellison was a long shot but the extent to which you were willing to trust..." His words trailed off into light laughter.

  Frustration ate at Blair's stomach. It wasn't just the fact that he had believed Brackett that bothered him but that he had truly thought that going with him was the best choice he could make. He had trusted the inner voice that Frank had told him would never let him down and he had been wrong. "Where do we go from here?" he asked, wanting to get on with whatever they had planned for him.

  Grahm pulled a plate toward him and began to empty his pipe onto it. "My colleague mentioned a theory earlier. That theory has to do with how Ellison was able to find you when you were with Brackett before. From our observation of that day and the day at the fountain with Alex Barnes, we've come to the conclusion that you're able to somehow communicate your whereabouts to Detective Ellison."

  Therman smiled, a slow easy grin of satisfaction. "That's why we had you brought in unconscious. Why we've kept you blindfolded every time we've moved you. We wanted to make sure you had no idea where you are. We wanted to make sure there would be no way you could communicate your whereabouts to Ellison. And so far, you haven't. Or at least, we don't believe you have. After all, Ellison hasn't shown up yet."

  "That's nuts," Blair said but a part of him wondered if they could be right. Did that explain his lingering feeling of uncertainty? Explain why Jim hadn't come for him?

  Blair looked around the room again. Should I know where I am? Recognize this place somehow?

  Grahm stood and coming around the table, stopped behind Blair, his hands coming to rest on his shoulders. "We want you to contact Ellison," he said quietly. "The way you did earlier."

  Blair swallowed hard, shaking his head. "I don't know what--"

  "Do we look like fools?" Grahm's fingers dug into his shoulders. "We locked you in that room until you were desperate enough to try it yourself. Took you a while but you did it tonight, didn't you?"

  Blair kept his gaze forward. Said nothing.

  "Blair," Therman said from beside him. "We know what you can do. What you are. Frank Croft told us...explained how his brother found you."

  "And we know you've read up on it," Grahm continued. "So don't try and deny it."

  Blair didn't even want to ask how they knew what books he had been reading. "It made me sick," he said, grasping at anything that might keep him from trying what they were now proposing.

  "Croft told us it might do that. Said it's very hard on the body." Therman tilted his head to one side, as if studying Blair. "I'll admit you look a little flushed but other than that, you seem fine. I think Croft was exaggerating its affects."

  "Why did you kill Frank?" Blair asked before he realized he was going to speak.

  "Believe me, we didn't want that to happen," Therman said, casting an irritated eye on Walsh. "After he told us what you were and what you could do, we planned to bring him here to help you. But things got a little out of hand and…" He shrugged. "We weren't happy about it but what's done is done." His brow furrowed. "I must say, I was surprised by the man's concern for you. Surprised you could inspire such loyalty in such a short period of time." He glanced up at Grahm. "Weren't you?"

  "Yes, his concern was surprising." Grahm leaned down, keeping his hands on Blair's shoulders, and said softly, "Would you like to see the tape?"

  "No," Blair choked out, horrified by the idea that these men had not only beaten Frank Croft to death but had taped it for future study.

  "Then let's get on with this." Therman indicated a mat in the corner of the room. "You just have to get a message to Ellison. Simple as that."

  "I can't do what you're asking," Blair said, his pulse beating heavily in his ears. "I don't know enough about it."

  Grahm moved from behind Blair to stand beside Therman. "That
's too bad…. for Captain Banks."

  Blair looked up sharply. "Simon? What about Simon?"

  "We thought you might need…incentive so we planted a few explosive devices in the good captain's house," Grahm explained.

  "If you don't find a way of warning Ellison about them, they will go off and your captain will die," Therman finished.

  Blair's heart hammered against his ribcage. He couldn't let these men kill Simon yet he didn't know if he had the ability to actually get a message out. "What if I can't do it?"

  "You better…for your captain's sake," Grahm warned.

  ########

  Get out of the house!

  Simon jerked upright in bed, threw his blankets to the side and bolted from the room. He was at the back door, gripping the handle before his mind caught up with his body.

  "What the hell?" He dropped his hand from the door and looked around the room, trying to figure out what was happening. What am I doing out here? But then he remembered. He'd had a dream. A dream about…Sandburg.

  Blair had been there in his room, screaming at him to get out of the house and Simon had reacted on instinct. But as Simon stood in his darkened kitchen, trying to ease his fast beating heart, he would almost swear that Blair had actually been here. Still felt that strongly in his gut.

  His gaze fell on his keys where he had left them on the kitchen table. He needed to talk to Jim. Tonight.

  #######

  Blair slammed back into his body, convulsing with the effort. His eyes snapped open. He sucked in a lung full of air. And collapsed on his side, clutching his gut against the sharp pain that lanced through it.

  His mind flashed back to the image he had seen. An image of Simon, asleep in his bed. Had he been able to contact him? Warn him in time? He'd been told to get a message to Jim but he hadn't been able to think about anyone but Simon when he went into his trance. Had gone directly to the captain instead. But had it been enough?

  "You took your own sweet time."

  Blair opened his eyes and stared up at Walsh. He stood above him, glaring down. Blair shifted his gaze, scanning the rest of the room. Grahm and Therman were gone.