Inevitable Series 04 The Unrelenting Read online

  "You took too long," Walsh explained. "They got bored." He shook his head as he towered over Blair. "You are gullible. You believed them the same way you believed Brackett."

  "They lied?" he managed, his head still spinning.

  "Yes, they lied. There were never any explosives. They just wanted to force your hand and you let them." Walsh reached down and hauled Blair to his feet. "Time to go back to your room."

  The sudden movement caused Blair's stomach to convulse. He bent over and lost what little food he had left in him.

  Walsh jerked away in disgust. "You asshole!"

  Blair remained bent over, his stomach still knotted up tightly. His head pounded. Sweat covered his body. His mind felt foggy, unfocused. "Oh God." His knees buckled, he collapsed to the ground and everything went black.

  #######

  Jim jerked upright. He had fallen asleep at the kitchen table reading one of Blair's books on Shamanism. Now, as he rubbed his eyes, he tried to figure out what had awakened him. He glanced around the loft and then heard it again. A pounding on the front door.

  "Jim, it's Simon."

  He pushed up from the table, closing the book he had been reading, and crossed to the door. "Simon," he said, pulling it wide. "What are you doing here? It's after midnight."

  Simon walked past him as if he hadn't spoken. "I had a dream tonight…about Sandburg. It was strange."

  As he turned to face him, Jim could see something in his captain's eyes. Something that told him… "Blair came to you." The words left him in one long breath. Was it possible? Had Simon felt the same thing he had earlier that afternoon at the bullpen? "What happened? Tell me everything."

  Simon took a seat at the kitchen table and haltingly went over every detail of his dream and how it had felt. "I swear to you, Jim, it was like the kid was in the house with me."

  "He may have been." Jim opened the book on the table, turned to a passage Blair had highlighted and read aloud. "To gain new experiences in Shamanistic studies, a form of conscious projection can be used. Although somewhat hard on the physical body, this technique is considered the ultimate commune with the soul." He looked up at Simon. "It goes on to explain exactly how this can be done."

  "Are you telling me that Blair is now practicing Shamanism?" Simon asked with obvious skepticism.

  "No. I'm telling you Blair is a Shaman. And that he used this technique to contact you tonight." Jim kept his gaze locked with Simon's, hoping he would see the conviction in his expression.

  Simon's gaze narrowed as he studied him. "Jim," he began, his voice quiet, "I know you haven't slept in a few days-"

  "Just hear me out, Simon." He knew he had to make Simon understand and believe if he was going to help. "When Incacha was here, just before he died, he grabbed Blair's forearm and told him that he was passing on the ways of the Shaman to him. Neither one of us really knew what to do at that point so we spent the whole next year just ignoring the issue completely. But when Alex came to town, it was all thrust up to the forefront again. We knew we had to find out about it. But in the process of doing that, Blair became a target for Jarred Lowry."

  "So when you said Blair's abduction by the Lowry's was connected to the Sentinel stuff…?"

  "It was Blair's status as a Shaman that attracted Lowry to him. He wanted Blair because of what he is."

  "You sound so sure about all this, Jim."

  "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Simon, you weren't there when Frank Croft talked to Blair. Croft knew what he was. Hell, he knew what I was. And everything we've read about Shamans…it's Blair. Everything they describe…it's him. I think it's one of the reasons he's able to hold on to his humanity through all this. It's part of what he is. If you read just one of these books, you'd see that." Jim pushed the still open book toward him.

  Simon's gaze fell to it. He reached forward but hesitated as his fingers touched the pages. Then shaking his head, he turned his gaze back to Jim. "There has to be another explanation."

  Jim slammed the book shut. "Dammit, Simon, you know it's all true. I can see it in your face. Why can't you admit it?"

  "Because it's too much." He pushed up from the table and began pacing the small kitchen. "He's so young…to have all this on him. It just doesn't seem fair somehow."

  Jim's brow furrowed as he finally understood. "You're worried."

  Simon spun to face him. "Hell yes, I'm worried. Aren't you?""

  "I worry about Blair all the time. But it's what he is, Simon. And I'm not just going to shove it aside because you can't deal with it."

  "Why didn't he want me to know?" Simon asked.

  "Because he was afraid that you would think that he had talked me into believing all of this. But he didn't. Blair didn't even want this. It scares the hell out of him. He doesn't know what to do with it. Incacha died before he could tell Blair anything. That's why Blair went back to Frank Croft. Croft was a teacher of Shaman studies. Blair thought he could find out more about himself. Now with Croft dead…I don't know what he's going to do when he gets back home and I can't help him."

  "So this dream I had tonight. You think that was actually Blair. That he was trying to contact me."

  "Yes. I don't know if he's doing it by choice or if he's being forced to by Grahm and Therman."

  "You think that's why they grabbed Sandburg? Because of what he is?"

  "They didn't beat Frank Croft to death to find out about me, Simon. They know what Blair is and my guess is they're asking him for a practical demonstration."

  "But why would he come to me? What could that warning mean?"

  Before Jim could answer, he sensed something else. He cocked his head to the side and listened. But instead of hearing something, he realized it was a lack of noise that drew his attention. He looked toward the door.

  Simon followed his line of vision "What--"

  Jim held up a hand silencing him. Rising slowly, silently, he pulled his weapon and moved to the door. Simon followed his lead, pulling his own weapon and taking up a stance by the kitchen counter.

  Seconds later, the handle turned and the door pushed inward. Jim stepped forward and placed his gun to the back of the man now entering his apartment. "Brackett," he growled.

  "Glad to see you too, Ellison." Brackett held his hands out at his sides. "Could you put the weapon away?"

  Jim did not move. "Where's Blair?"

  "You move the barrel of your weapon away from my back and I'll explain everything to you."

  "I don't need you to explain anything. I just need to know where my partner is."

  "Jim." Simon came up beside him. "You're not going to help Blair this way. Put the gun away."

  Reluctantly, Jim tucked his gun back in its holster.

  Brackett turned to face him, a smug grin cutting across his face. "You have such a temper." Reaching down, he clicked off the white noise generator on his belt. "Guess this little trick is old, huh."

  "Start explaining," Jim said, barely able to control his rage. He wanted to reach out and choke Blair's location from him.

  Brackett crossed to the living room and dropped into a chair. "First off, I have no idea where Sandburg is."

  Jim crossed the room in four strides, yanked Brackett from the chair and slammed him into the wall. "What do you mean you don't know? How could that happen?"

  "I was lying to you out on that road. All I was supposed to do was deliver Sandburg and then I'd gain my freedom. There was never any plan-- "

  "You left Blair with those men? He's been alone with them all this time?" Jim pulled him forward and slammed him back into the wall again.

  "I had no choice," Brackett blurted out. "They set the whole thing up. They were watching us the entire time. They had bets on whether you'd agree to let him go. Whether he'd go even if you didn't agree. Whether you'd be the one to use the chloroform on him. Everything."

  "Chloroform? What chlor---" Jim's eyes widened. "You used chloroform on Blair? You delivered him handcuffed and unconscious
to those men and then walked away?" He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Brackett's face, inches from his forehead. "I should kill you."

  A bead of sweat trailed down the side of Brackett's face. "Ellison, he's in worse trouble than you know so just hear me out."

  "How do I know you're not lying again?"

  "You don't. You have to trust me."

  "The way Blair did?" Jim ground out.

  "It's because Sandburg trusted me that I'm here."

  Jim's hands, still wrapped around the weapon, began to shake.

  "Jim." Simon stepped up behind him and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "You're wasting time that Blair may not have," he said, his voice soft with concern. "Put your weapon away and let's hear him out."

  "Did you hear what he said, Simon? Do you realize what he did?"

  "Yes, I do but if you kill him, how will that help Blair? You won't find out what Brackett knows. Worse yet, you'll go to jail. You won't be able to help find Blair or be here for him when he comes back home."

  Simon's words penetrated the rage that was now controlling him. Jim dropped his arms to his side and took a step back. But he still trembled with the anger that seemed a living thing within him.

  "When I drove away with Sandburg that day," Brackett began again, wiping at the sweat on his brow, "all I could think about was the fact that he had trusted me. Trusted me enough to put his life in my hands. Do you know how long it's been since someone trusted me that way? And then, when I saw Walsh…" He let his voice trail off.

  "Who the hell is Walsh?" Jim asked, not liking this new threat to his Guide.

  "I honestly thought Therman and Grahm were smarter than that. I wouldn't have expected them to hire someone like Walsh."

  "Who is he?" Jim snapped.

  "He's a mercenary," Brackett explained. "He has a bad reputation. Seems he likes young men. Likes to…hurt them."

  Jim's hand tightened around the gun he still held. "You handed Blair over to a man like that."

  "I slipped a listening device into his shirt before I gave him up. I've heard everything that's gone on with him the last four days."

  "And…?" Simon pressed.

  "He's fine," Brackett said, his gaze shifting between the two men. "He's been left alone until today. They finally came for him today. Made him change his clothes. That's when contact was cut. And that's why I'm here now."

  Jim's eyes narrowed as he stared at him. "You expect me to believe you're here to help us?"

  "I taped every minute of the last four days," Brackett said. "I was hoping to hear something that would give me a clue as to where they took Sandburg. There was nothing. But I thought if you listened, maybe you could hear something I couldn't."

  "It's a good idea," Simon agreed. "Maybe there'll be a sound in the background that could give us a clue."

  Jim didn't want to trust Brackett. Didn't want to once again be played a fool by this man. But what choice did he have? "Where are the damn tapes?"

  #######

  Walsh stood in the small room staring down at the young man on the cot. He didn't see the reason for all the fuss. The kid was supposed to be special somehow. Therman and Grahm certainly treated him that way. "Let him call them by their first names," he muttered. He'd tried that on the third day of their "association" and had been told in no uncertain terms that he was never to do it again. Yet they had invited this hippie to do just that within five minutes of meeting him.

  He hadn't known what to expect when Therman and Grahm first told him that they wanted to hire him to abduct Jim Ellison's partner. He'd never met Ellison but knew his reputation from his time in covert ops. Walsh had expected the man's partner to be a tough, military type, like Ellison. He couldn't picture this long-haired kid with that hard-ass. Especially since the kid wasn't even a cop. It wasn't until he'd questioned Frank Croft that he realized why these two were together.

  Could the things Croft told him about the kid be true? The things Therman and Grahm had told him about Ellison?

  He shook his head. None of that mattered. All that mattered was the money he was making on this job. And the fact that if he were lucky, he'd be able to kill Blair Sandburg before this was all done.

  He crouched down beside the unconscious young man. Tilting his head to one side, he studied his face in sleep. There was something about him, a youthful innocence that shone through his eyes. Reaching out, he touched the young man's hair. He would savor this kill. Savor the moment when his life ended. When the light in those eyes was extinguished forever.

  "Walsh!"

  He jerked to his feet, his gaze darting to the door. Spenser Therman stood just inside the room, his gaze angry.

  "What did we say about touching him?" he snapped. "When we're all done, you can do whatever you like. But for now, we still need him." Therman stepped farther into the room and looked down at his 'guest'. "Has he come to at all?"

  "He's been in and out most of the night." Walsh nudged the cot Blair lay on with his foot. His head lolled from side to side but he did not stir.

  "We won't get Ellison here if he dies," Therman said, leaning down to check Blair's pulse. "We have to move up our plan." He stood and letting out a long breath, turned his gaze to Walsh and said, "Make the call."

  ########

  Jim sat at the kitchen table, listening to the last tape Brackett had made.

  "You will show me respect, punk."

  Jim closed his eyes as Blair's soft apology reached his ears. He could hear in that single word the fear in his Guide's voice. He listened as Blair was told to turn around and then was struck when he questioned the direction.

  "Just do what he says," Jim muttered.

  So far he'd picked up nothing that would help. It would have been impossible to listen to all the tapes in one night, so he'd jumped around. First he'd listened to the exchange out on the road when Brackett handed Blair over to Walsh. That bastard had dumped his partner in the trunk of the car. Jim could tell from the echoes around Blair and the sound the tires made. Part of Jim was glad that Blair had been unconscious then.

  On one of the other tapes, Jim had heard Blair counting. At first, he had been confused as he listened to Blair quietly mouth each number, wondering what his Guide was doing. But as he continued to count, Jim could detect an edge of hysteria in his partner's voice and knew Blair had simply been trying to occupy his mind. Keep himself sane and whole during his isolation. On another tape, Jim had heard Blair muttering about his classes, going over his notes quietly to himself. But most of the tapes were silent. The only consistent sound Blair's heartbeat. Sometimes it was slower, when Blair was sleeping. But most times it was the steady, regular beat that Jim knew so well.

  He pulled the headphones off as the tape ran out. His gaze shifted to the sleeping man across from him. Brackett sat in a kitchen chair, his arms folded before him, his head down on his arms. Jim still didn't trust him, didn't think he ever would. But for now, he was all the help they had.

  A soft snoring drew his attention and he shifted his gaze to the living room. Simon slept sprawled across the sofa. His glasses, still on, rested at an odd angle on his face. Jim let his gaze move to the balcony doors. He could see the sun rising just beyond the glass and prayed that today would be the day that Blair would come home.

  Pushing up from his seat, Jim crossed to the counter and dumped out the stale coffee he'd made just after listening to the first tape five hours earlier. Then pulling the coffee from the fridge, made a new pot. As he turned back toward the table, he saw Brackett sitting up, blinking sleepily.

  "Anything?" he asked around a yawn.

  Jim crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "Nothing." His gaze drifted to Simon as the captain sat up and stretched.

  "No luck?" he said, shifting his glasses back into place before joining Jim in the kitchen.

  Jim shook his head. "But I didn't listen to them all. There still might be something on one of the other tapes. As soon as I get some coffee in me, I'm going t
o start again."

  "No you're not." Simon looked at him with a hard glare. "You're going to get some shut eye then you'll listen to the tapes."

  "Simon, there is no telling what's been happening to Blair since Brackett lost contact with him."

  "Jim, you can't keep going on like this. You won't be any good to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion."

  "He's right, Ellison. You look like hell." Brackett stood and crossing to the counter, poured himself a cup of fresh coffee.

  "I don't need advice from you, Brackett." Jim's cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open. "Ellison."

  A familiar sound echoed through the receiver.

  Jim closed his eyes, listening to Blair's heartbeat. It calmed him, even over the phone. But it was too slow and somewhat irregular. And his breathing sounded labored. "Blair," he said, his voice low with emotion. "Where are you, Chief?"

  Blair's heartbeat faded into the background. Jim could hear another heartbeat take its place, then, "Detective Ellison, do you want to see your partner again?"

  It was Walsh. Jim recognized his voice from the tape. His hand tightened around the phone receiver. "Where is he?"

  "He's ill, Detective. Possibly dying. Be at Harson's Station in a half-hour and I'll take you to him." The line went dead.

  Jim stood for several moments listening to the dial tone before slamming the phone shut. "I have to go."

  "Who was that?" Simon asked.

  "It was the men who have Blair. They want me to meet them at Harson's Station." He checked his watch. "I barely have enough time to get there." He grabbed his jacket and headed toward the door.

  Simon grabbed his arm. "You don't even know if Sandburg is still alive."

  "He's alive. I heard his heart beating over the phone."

  "You don't know that was Sandburg's heartbeat."

  "I've lived and worked with him for three years!" Jim snapped. "You don't think I know it by now?"

  Simon's expression softened. "I'm sorry, Jim. I should have realized--"

  "No, I'm sorry Simon. I'm just worried about Blair." He looked at Brackett then back to Simon. "He's sick. I could hear his breathing and it was labored. Something's wrong with him. I have to go and meet them."