Cascade, Washington
Major Crimes Bullpen
Early Afternoon, 25 January

Captain Simon Banks watched in disbelief and amazement as Detective Sean McConnel attempted to do what, up until now, he thought only Blair Sandburg would have a prayer of pulling off; pulling a nearly comatose, zoned out Sentinel, James Ellison, back into the real world. Stepping back to give the visiting detective some room, Simon glanced over at Caragh McConnel. Her attention was riveted to both men. His hearing, not as good as Jimís, but enough, perked up at the words falling from Seanís mouth.

"Okay, how does she do it? Oh, yeah. Right." Taking a deep breath, Sean closed the distance between himself and his fellow Protector. "Letís get busy, shall we, Jim?" Relaxing in the knowledge that his wife was there to back him up if needed, he stretched out his senses to keep track of Jimís vital signs, lowered his voice a little further, in volume if not timbre, and started his attempt to bring the other back from the edge of the abyss. Feeling the need for physical contact, he placed a hand gently on the Sentinel's lower back, and began to coax.

"Jim? I know you can hear me. I donít know what youíve locked onto, but dial it back. If your Guardian arrives and sees you like this, heíll put you through all kinds of tests ? especially if heís anything like mineÖ"

Simon decided that discretion was the better plan in this situation, and walked back over to his desk. Picking up the aspirin bottle, the one that some smartass had relabeled ëEllison/Sandburg Bane,í he shook out two tablets. Over the course of the past hour or so, heíd learned more than heíd ever wanted to know about Sentinels and Guides, or Protectors and Guardians. Movement in the office brought his attention to one of the sources of his headache, only to see her reach out and snatch the aspirin bottle from his open hand.

"Need some?" Simon chuckled softly.

"Gods, yes." Caragh opened the bottle and took out three tablets, then handed it back to the Captain. "But donít let him know," she nodded pointedly in the direction of her husband, "or Iíll never hear the end of it." Her smile turned into a wince, as her pounding head demanded her attention yet again. Without a second's hesitation, she dry swallowed the pain relievers and then chased them down with lukewarm coffee left in her mug.

Simon nodded. "I wonít tell if you wonít." Together, they leaned up against his desk, watching the two men at the window. Overhearing Seanís last remark, the one about tests, he looked down at his companion and raised an eyebrow.

Muttering under her breath, Caragh supplied the answer to Simonís unvoiced query. "Oh, Sean PatÖ You haven't begun to see what I can dream up for ëtestingí you."

The sound of his captain chuckling under the voice of someone trying to bring him back from the fugue state heíd fallen into, drew Jim's attention. Then the voice, not of his guide, but someone else, reached out to him again.

"ÖSpoiled milk, has your Guardian tried that on you yet? Be careful, or Caragh may just suggest it to himÖ"

ëGuardian? Blair? No, not Guide. Where is he?í Thoughts tumbled around in his head, making it harder and harder for him to concentrate on whatever it was heíd been focusing on. Trying to regain that focus, his hearing started ranging out, searching.

"ÖYou got to pull back, Jim. Youíre starting to worry me here, and I know what youíre going through. Imagine what youíre doing to your Captain. If you listen real close, you can hear his heart strainingÖ" Sean had closed his eyes, trying to just feel when he was getting through to the zoned out Sentinel, and he felt somethingÖ "Okay, thatís it. Grab the dial that you use to control your hearing. Itís got to be set pretty damn high, so start pulling it back down."

Caragh smiled and nodded. It was a chance that Sean was taking, assuming that Jim used the same visualization techniques that he did himself, but even she could see the tension in the Sentinelís body starting to fade. A hand reached out and touched her on the sleeve of her shirt and she turned her smiling face to see the concerned look on Simon Banksí face. He gestured towards his watch. Eight minutes had passed since Jim had entered the zone out. "Wait, heís almost there."

Simon looked from the smiling face of the Guardian, back to the statues that had been Jim Ellison and Sean McConnel. Even though Sean had started out using touch and voice to try to reach Jim, he had stopped using the hand movements and concentrated only on voice. Unknowingly, Simon took a step towards the two men, only to have Seanís head snap around to nail him with eyes green as could be ? just as Jim took in a stuttering breath and started to collapse.

Three people moved as one, all closing in on the returning Detective, offering support and gently guiding him to a seated position on the floor.

Sean cradled Jimís head in his lap, Simon made sure that his friend's legs didnít become tangled in the furniture, and Caragh knelt beside the prone man who was just beginning to rouse.

Satisfied with the experiment, Caragh took back her traditional role from her husband. Her voice was soft, pleading and low enough not to hurt oversensitive ears. "Thatís it, Jim. All the way back now. Come on. Youíre okay, but we need to know what you zoned on."

Jimís eyes popped open and he found himself looking, once again, into the concerned leaf green eyes of Caragh McConnel. "Sandburg?"

"Heís not here yet, Jim." Simon, taking a cue from the only other Guide in the room, answered softly.

Jim tried to shake off the lethargy that had engulfed his muscles and his mind, only to have his movements forestalled by Sean. "No. Sandburg, Chief, BlairísÖ" He shook his head, shaking cobwebs from his brain.

"Is that what you were focusing on, Jim? Blayre? Come on, talk to me."

"Trouble. Not there."

Jimís cryptic answers only served to puzzle the two men, Caragh could see it in their eyes, but she knew what the Sentinel was trying to say. "Oh, my gods. Jim? Can you tell where? I wonít let you zone again, but concentrate ? youíre connected, you should be able to tell."

Not resisting the soft voice full of concern, he closed his eyes and tried to reach out for his guide. With a sigh, he opened his eyes again and looked up into the familiar face of his friend's fellow shaman/guide. "Nothing. Itís all dark, like heís just not there anymore." Reaching out, he made to pull himself up, only to have Simon reach out and pull him to his feet. Jim didnít resist and, in fact, appreciated the help.

"You okay now, Jim?" Simon asked and waited for the answer. What heíd just heard from the man's own lips, what heíd seen happen in his own office, had him left him feeling a bit uneasy.

"Yeah. Maybe." Jim turned and helped both Sean and Caragh back to their feet. "Thanks. Both of you."

Sean grimaced. "Thank Mike. It was her idea to have me try to pull you back."

Caragh shrugged off the backhanded compliment and made her next move. "Jim, you said that Blayre was no longer there? You couldnít feel his presence in your mind?"

Jim shook his head. "No. Itís like something is blocking me from reaching him." His hands came up to rub at his eyes, they felt gritty, as if heíd kept them open for however long he was zoned.

Reaching up, Caragh pulled his hands back down. "Donít do that. Sean?" The unfinished question had him digging into her large bag; coming up with whatever it was he was searching for he handed it off to his wife. "Jim, sit."

Letting himself be guided back over to the couch, Jim sat on the edge and looked up as Caragh moved in closer to him, almost straddling his legs. "Uh, MikeÖ"

"Shut up. Tilt your head back and trust me." Smiling as he complied with her no-nonsense tone of voice, she uncapped the bottle and leaned in ever closer to the detective. Bracing one hand on his forehead, the other holding the bottle just beyond his peripheral vision, she moved in, then stepped back as the man started to react.

The slight burning sensation in his left eye was quickly joined by similar sensations from his right, then he started to tear up. Snapping his eyes closed against the mild irritant, he damn near rose to his feet, only to be pushed back down and handed something soft which he used to wipe at his eyes. When his eyes felt like they had returned to normal, he looked up at a smirking Caragh McConnel, holding a small bottle of saline in one hand and another tissue, raided from Simonís desk, in the other. "Next time, warn me, will you?"

"Sure. But I figured you had to be as bad as Sean about eye drops, so I choose to be a little sneaky." She handed him the bottle and the extra tissue. "Here. Keep those handy, you may need them again later." Moving back to the Captainís desk, leaning against it, she asked the obvious. "So, how do you want to go about looking for my trouble-twin?"

Simon spoke up from behind her, where he was hanging up the phone. "Already started. Jim, that was Thea Devon. Sandburg left about two hours ago. Right after heíd had an unscheduled pair of visitors."

"We shouldÖ"

"I need toÖ"

Simon smiled as the two detectives started speaking at the same time. "Thatís what I figured. Go. Take the McConnels with you. Iíll get the word out that Sandburgís overdue and have the patrols watch for his car." He watched as the threesome gathered up what they would need and started to leave his office. He quietly muttered under his breath, "I hope that you find BlairÖ" To his surprise, it was Caragh McConnel that turned back around to smile at him.

"Donít worry, Captain. With those two on his trail, weíll find him."

Cascade, Washington Early Evening, 25 January

Blair dodged into another alleyway as he spotted a dark, possibly black, sedan rolling down the roadway towards his position. "Iím getting really sick and tired of playing ëmouseí to your ëcat,í Lyle." Ducking behind a refuse bin just as the car passed the entrance to the alley, he wondered why they, and their ëCentre,í were so damn interested in him. Squatting down, he rested his back against the brick wall and started to think out loud, but quietly.

"Okay, Lyle mentioned my thesisÖ Wondered why I was still working with Jim if he wasnít a SentinelÖOh, man! He knows about the Wilkins book!" Risking a look down the narrow alley, Blair rose to his feet and walked back the way he had come in. Reaching the street, he scanned for any suspicious looking cars and, seeing none, started back on the path towards home. The thoughts that now plagued his every step had him worried. Not so much for his and Jimís sake, but for Caragh and her family. Her Protector. If the Centre was after people that not only knew about sentinels, but the sentinels themselves, then the information that had been in the Wilkins book would lead them right to Caragh McConnel.

Letting out a soft curse in Swahili, he ducked into yet another alley as another dark sedan cruised down the street. "Shit! At this rate, I wonít be able to stand still long enough to call Jim." He realized that in the past hour or so that heíd been on the run from Mr. Lyle, Bridgett and the other goons, heíd only managed to cover about one-fourth of the distance between where heíd been held at and home. Spotting one of the ëserviceí alleyways that ran behind the main buildings on the parallel streets of Cascade, he decided that he could make better time if he stuck to using those as often as he could. Blair worked his way up to a slow jog as he put his plan of action into motion.

Jim pulled his pickup into an open parking space in front of Hargrove Hall at Rainier University, and winced as Sean McConnel pulled in right beside him with a squeal of tires on wheel wells. Not pausing to wait for the Protector and his wife, he flew up the steps into the building.

Caragh grimaced when Sean slammed his door shut, her head reminding her that she had a concussion, but concern for her friend took over and she ran, following her husband and Jim Ellison into the old building she had once attended many classes in. Entering the main doors, she realized that she had lost track of her Protector, and therefore the Sentinel as well. Cursing under her breath in Gaelic, Caragh dredged up memories of the structure and prayed that nothing had changed much over the years. A soft voice from behind made her pivot in an about face.

"Caragh Michaels?"

Spotting the owner of the voice, she smiled. "Thea Devon!" Two steps later she was embracing the older woman. "You havenít changed a bit!"

Thea hugged the young woman to her, then pushed her back, holding her by the shoulders. "And you still exaggerate, Caragh. What are you doing here? I thought Iíd never see you again."

The smile slipped from her face as she answered. "Iím looking for Blayre."

"You too? His roommate and another man just blew past me heading to his office." Thea let go and gestured to the old friend of Blair Sandburg. "Come on, Iíll show you where his office is. But heís not here right now."

"I know. Heís missing, Thea," Caragh answered carefully as she followed the Departmentís secretary down a flight of steps into the basement.

Shaking her head, the older woman sighed. "I was afraid of that. I hope that his visitors from earlier didnít have anything to do with that."

"Thea, I was with Jim when Captain Banks called you. My husband and I are working with Cascade PD on a string of robberies, Blairís disappearance might be connected." Reaching out, she pulled the woman to a gentle stop. "Tell me about these ëvisitors,í who were they? Do you know?"

Thea couldnít repress the shudder that passed over her body, recalling the couple that had come calling on one of her favorite staff members. "Man and a woman. Mr. Lyle, I think is what I read on his business card. From some company called The Centre. He was okay, but the ëladyí with him gave me the willies. I offered to run interference for Blair, to make excuses for him to them, but he wanted to see them."

"Did he say why?"

"No." Thea closed her eyes, trying to rememberÖ "Iím not sure, but I seem to recall that Blair had received several letters from this company. Recruitment letters, I think." Opening her eyes, she looked directly into the startling green orbs of a pissed off Caragh Michaels.

"Damn." Breaking eye contact with Thea, Caragh moved around the woman and stepped into the office that she now knew her husband was in.

Not thinking, Thea followed the former student, and found herself looking at a scene that nearly broke her heart. James Ellison, best friend and police partner of Blair Sandburg, stood behind his partnerís desk, a look of devastation on his face. "Detective?" Her soft question echoed into the room, causing the other man that had been with Jim to look at her.

"Thea? Iíd like you to meet my husband, Sean McConnel." Caraghís voice broke the silence that had fallen on the group.

"He looks just like you, Jim."

Jim allowed a small smile to cross his lips, "So Iíve noticed. Thea, any chance that you might know where Blair was going to when he left this afternoon?"

She shrugged, "As far as I knew, he was heading over to the station to join you."

"He never made it." Without pausing to think about it, Jim started using his senses to case the office of his Guide. This latest office, the third one since he and the anthropology student had hooked up, was familiar to him. Every little knickknack, artifact and book had itís place in the jumble that Blair jokingly referred to as his filing system. Scents that the Sentinel often connected to his friend lingered in the air, all deeply impressed in his memory. Except one. It was new, yet not new. And it was strong.

Realizing that Jim was using his hyper-senses to gather a clue as to where his Guide had gone, Sean stepped forward to distract the older woman from what the Sentinel was doing. "Thea? Can you show me where visitors, like the ones Blair had, would have to sign in? They do have to sign in, donít they?" He followed the woman out of the office and up to the main hall.

Caragh stepped forward and reached out to Jim as soon as she was sure that Thea couldnít overhear her. Still, being cautious, she kicked the door shut behind her; knowing that Sean could track the conversation if he so choose. "Jim?"

Wrinkling his nose and sharply shaking his head, he focused on the young woman whose hand was on his arm. "Damn. Same smell."

"From where?"

"Your plane and the hotel room. I just canít place it."

"Oh, shit." Caraghís mind was working furiously as she watched Jim start going though the paperwork left on Blairís desk, searching for anything that might tell him where his Guide had gone. She started pacing, accidentally kicking over a trashcan in the small confines of the office. The can had been filled to near overflowing; the papers, cups and a few other things scattered all over the floor. Kneeling down to clean up the mess, she found the business card.

Mr. Lyle The Centre Blue Cove, DE

Jim reached out and slipped the business card from her nerveless fingers. Looking over the card, he brought it up to his nose, and nearly threw it away from him as the odor threatened to overpower his sense of smell. "Whoa! What is that smell?"

"Same one?"

Nodding, he pulled an evidence bag from his jacket pocket and placed the business card inside. "Only stronger. What ever it is, itís a part of who ever handled this card."

Piling the rest of the trash back into the can, Caragh stood back up and wished, again, that she had a clue as to what Jimís sense of smell was picking up. "Maybe Sean can tell when he gets back."

"Maybe." Jim tried to squelch the feeling of dread that was threatening to overcome him. This wasnít the first time that Blair had been taken from him, probably wouldnít be the last, but everytime it happened the Sentinel knew that there was a chance that each time would be the one that the legendary Sandburg luck would run out, when his Guide, his friend, wouldnít make it back to his side.

Sean followed Thea to her desk and glanced over the register that Sandburgís visitors had signed. At least one of them had. The handwriting was bold, sure and heavy handed ? but uneven. Looking up from the book he asked, "Thea, was this ëMr. Lyleí injured? Hand or arm in a cast or something?"

Thea blinked, startled. "No cast, but he was missing his thumb. I only noticed because he held the pen in a odd grip."

"Right hand?"

"Why, yes. Yes, I believe it was." Shaking her head in amazement she looked up into the dark green eyes. "How did you know that?"

This was a situation that Sean was used to handling when he let slip some of his ëProtectorí skills. Smiling, he shrugged. "Fellas back home just started calling me ëSherlock,í that sound about right to you?"

"Well, either youíre a lot like that fictional detective, or you're really psychic." Thea smiled as she answered, her voice thick with sarcasm and her normal dry wit humor.

Sean smiled back and with a slight nod of thanks, made his way back to the office where he could hear Caragh and Jim talking about a smell that only the sentinel could pick up. Stepping into the room, he held out his hand only to have Jim place a clear plastic evidence bag into it without his asking for it out loud. "Keep that up, Jim, and Iím going to have to rethink the answer that I just gave Thea."

"Sherlock?"

"Yep." Lifting the bag close to his nose, but not opening it, Sean tried to filter past the plastic and to detect whatever it was that had been bothering Jim. The exercise was a simple one, one that he and Caragh had practiced on many times back home. One that didnít always work, but more often than not, did. Catching a whiff of the odor, he winced and pulled the bag away, trying to distance himself from it.

Caragh moved in and softly touched her husband on the sleeve, "Sean?"

"Just a second." He handed her the bag and pinched his nose, trying to rid his olfactory receptors of the chemical/animal tang that had invaded them. "Man, thatís some potent shit."

"Do you recognize it?" Caragh asked quietly as Jim watched Sean in sympathy, knowing that like him, the Protector would have a devil of a time clearing the smell from his mind.

Sean finally opened his eyes and glanced down at his wife, "Dr. Fusiaki."

"What?!?" Caragh reeled backwards in shock. "No! No way!"

Realizing his mistake, Sean reached out and grabbed her by the upper arms, pulling her into a strong embrace. "That came out wrong, Mike. Iím not saying it is Fussy, but it reminds me of him." He shook his head at his own stupidity as he felt his Guardian relax under his arms. Looking over her head at Jim, he explained. "Dr. Fusiaki takes several trips back to Japan during the course of a year. When he comes back from those trips, he often reeks of that odor."

Jim was now, if possible, more confused. "And Fusiaki is?"

Caragh pulled herself out of her husbandís embrace to face Jim and answer his question. "My familyís doctor. He knows a little bit about Sean, but not the whole story. One of the reasons that he decided to settle in Willow Springs is because we have a high number of residents that have one or more heightened senses."

"Really? Just how high is high, Mike?"

"About twenty-five percent of the ënativeí population."

Jim nodded, wondering what other surprises the couple from Arkansas had hiding in their closets. "So, tell me, Sean. What causes the odor? You do know what it is, donít you?"

Sean smiled. "Oh, yeah. Fussy has this little ëcravingí that he takes care of on those trips to Japan." Seeing the confusion in his fellow detectiveís eyes, he continued. "Pufferfish. He eats it almost every day that heís in Japan. Toxic. Lethal as hell if not prepared by a certified chef. You actually have to be licensed to even handle the raw fish in Japan."

"Sushi? Youíre telling me that the person or persons behind the incidents at the Airport, the hotel and now, maybe Blairís disappearance have a thing for sushi?" Jim couldnít believe his ears or his eyes when Sean merely nodded in answer. "Great. All I have to do then is stake out the 12 or so Japanese restaurants in Cascade and hope like hell I can sniff out which one of the patrons it is that is behind all this!"

One hand on Sean, Caragh reached out and made contact with Jim. "No. Thatís not the answer, Sentinel." She wouldíve continued, as she now had the irate manís attention, but someoneís cell phone chose that moment to ring, breaking the moment. All three of them reached into coat and jacket pockets and checked.

"Ellison!" Jim barked into his phone, the offender, and listened as his caller gave him information. "No! Donít let anyone touch a damn thing, Iíll be there as soon as I can. Clear? Good!" Snapping the cell phone shut, he returned his attention to the McConnels. "That was dispatch, one of the patrol units found Blairís car."

Sean nodded and made for the door. "Then letís go. Weíre not going to get any where else here." He was forced to step aside as Jim brushed past him, in an obvious hurry to leave, forcing him and Caragh to practically run to keep up with him.

Blair paused only long enough to make sure that heíd not killed the man that heíd just been force to knock out with a length of pipe. This was the third one in the past hour that had come after him. The idea of using the back alleyways had worked for the first hour or so, but then the goons mustíve figured out what he was doing and had started to show up in alleys that he was using to try to make it back home. Rising to his feet, he tossed the pipe and started jogging back the way heíd come from before this latest muscle bound freak had cornered him. "Backtrack. Circle around and come up behind them." Spotting a fire escape, another thought flashed through his mind. "Or go over themÖ" Not stopping to think about his problems with heights, he climbed the ladder and continued on his way to the loft, sticking to rooftops as much as possible, only going to ground when he had to; which in this part of town, wasnít as often as one might think.

Lyle snapped the phone shut and threw the device back into the back seat of the car that he and Bridgett were riding in. "Damn."

"What is it, Luv?"

"That was Kenny. He just found David, unconscious, just like Tom and Robert were."

"Since when does it take an entire sweeper team to locate and contain one college student?"

Lyleís eyes narrowed into hard slits as he glared at her. "I donít know. Maybe you need to go back to teaching them, Bridgett."

"No, we just need to make sure that theyíre getting the right training." Sinking back into the seat next to him, Bridgett finally gave voice to a thought that had been plaguing her for a while. "Does this Sandburg remind you of anyone, Lyle?"

"A little too much, but donít remind me." Looking out of the carís windows he studied the passing city landscape. Theyíd been hunting the elusive Anthropologist for over two hours now, and they had their orders. One more hour. After that, forget it. The Centre would make other plans to acquire Sandburg at a later date.

Caragh stood back from the possible crime scene, not wanting to get into anyoneís way, watching as Jim and Sean worked the scene like bloodhounds, switching off duties as ësentinelí and ëguideí seamlessly, as if theyíd been doing this sort of work together for years, instead of just hours. The part of her that was pure Anthropologist watched the two men and noted their teamwork as cops. The part of her that was the Guardian, marveled at their cooperation, surprised that there wasnít more friction between the two ësentinelsí, a vying for domination over the other. The largest part of her was just hopeful that theyíd find something that would lead them to her friend.

So immersed in her thoughts was she, that she nearly jumped out of her skin when her cell phone rang. Smiling ruefully as the nearly identical faces turned in her direction, she answered, wondering if it was Steaphanie or Coran calling. "Hello?"

"Mike, itís me."

"Alex."

"Heís here. Meet us in one hour. Alone."

Caragh looked at the phone in her hand in disgust as her brother disconnected. "Son of a bitch." Looking back towards the car, she saw both Sean and Jim approaching her. "That was Alex. His ëbossí is here and wants to meet in one hourÖ"

"Alone. I donít like this, Mike." Sean found himself looking not to Caragh for support, but Jim, hoping the man would back him in this case.

"I have to agree with Sean. Weíre still not sure who has Blair, this could simply be a ploy to grab you as well."

"I donít see where we have much of a choice in the matter, guys." Caragh studied the two men before her, gauging their reactions. "Look, even if Alex and his boss are behind Blayreís disappearance, wouldnít it be better if I met with them like they ask?" Seeing the skepticism in their eyes, she darted ahead with her half thought out plan. "That way the two of you could track me and the conversation, and if something goes wrongÖ"

"We can follow them to where Sandburg is." Jim didnít like the idea of using a civilian, let alone this one, as bait; but had to admit she had a point. Sensing the tension radiating from Caraghís husband, he reached out and anchored the seething man. "Sean, I donít like it any better than you. But it may be our only shot at finding my Guide."

Gray green eyes, snapping with fire, went from one to the other, Jim, then Caragh, neither of which flinched under his glare. "Fine! But youíll wear your damn vest and I donít want to hear you argue about not carrying your sidearm." In his anger, heíd actually thrown his finger in his wifeís face, lecturing her.

Grabbing the flying hand under her nose, Caragh smiled as she dropped a kiss into his hand. "I was planning on it anyway." Looking over at Jim, who had turned away, she asked, "Jim? Should we notify Captain Banks of our plan?"

Jim, whoíd been a little embarrassed by the public display of affection between the Guardian and her Protector, returned his attention to them. "Yeah, heíll be here in a few minutes." He tugged at his ear so that the two of them understood that he had heard his Captainís approach, then looked back over his shoulder just as a unmarked police vehicle pulled off the road into the alley behind them.

When he was brought up to speed on the current situation, Simon had to agree with Sean McConnel. He didnít like the idea of using Caragh as bait either, but had reluctantly agreed that it looked like their best shot of discovering the whereabouts of Sandburg. Knowing that they wouldnít have time for Technical Support to set Dr. McConnel up with any kind of wire or tracking device, theyíd have to rely heavily on the skills of the two sentinels. At least heíd had some time to gather a small team together that could move on a momentís notice and placed a call to Joel Taggart to get them into place as quickly as possible. The team would stake out the area around the old Cascade Times warehouse and be ready to move in if the situation turned ugly.

A fast side trip to the home of Ellison and Sandburg, so that Caragh could change clothes and grab her vest, had proved disappointing as well. Jim had halfway been expecting to either find Blair at home, or maybe a message on the answering machine. Nothing. Jim pushed aside his fear, throwing himself into what Blair often called his ëfull copí mode and patiently followed Caragh back down to the cars where Sean waited for them. Climbing into his truck with Sean, Jim watched as Caragh pulled out of the lot and headed for the meeting place.

It didnít take a genius or his ëprotectorí skills for Sean to sense what was eating at Jim. He was pretty sure it was the same thing that was bothering him as well. "Jim," he started softly, "Weíll find him."

"Weíd better." The growled response was the last words spoken in the cab of the old pickup, until Jim pulled to the curbside about two blocks away from the meeting place. Turning to Sean, he asked. "You sure you want to work it this way?"

"Yes. You know these streets, I donít. If Mikeís brother pulls the stunt Iím halfway expecting, theyíll have her change locations a few times before the actual meeting." Sean settled himself into a more comfortable position on the bench seat, extending his vision to find Caraghís rented Suburban in the gathering darkness, and his hearing to track her voice and her heart.

Caragh pulled the Suburban to a halt, just outside the old warehouse, knowing that sheíd managed to arrive a few minutes early. Needing to test the hastily constructed plans, she looked in the rearview mirror and, as calmly as she could, spoke out loud to her husband. "Sean, Iím here. I can barely see where you parked, if you can hear me, ask Jim to flash his headlights or something." Sighing in relief when she saw the parking lights flare, then die behind her, she tried to relax. "You know, this cloak and dagger crap is all well and good for a Hollywood movie, but in reality it sucks."

Trying to get her vest settled, she hated the damn thing; it was heavy and even on a cold January evening, she found herself starting to sweat. But then again, not knowing what might happen, she felt better wearing it. Right at seven oíclock, her cell phone trilled, once again causing her to jump.

"Hello?"

"Mike. Take the next left and follow that road to the docks." Click.

Starting the rental back up, she pulled away from the building. "I sure hope you heard that, Sean. But just in case, Iíve been instructed to drive to the docks." Just as she turned, she glanced down the road and saw the parking lights flare on Jimís truck, then it disappeared from view as she completed the turn. Reaching out through the connection that she had with her husband, she felt a tug and knew that he and Jim would follow as best they could without letting anyone spot them doing so.

The phone trilled at her once she got within sight of the docks. "Now what?" She answered, just as a car dropped into position behind her from off of one of the many side streets in the area.

"Pull over." The male voice didnít belong to Alex, but she did what she was told anyway, and kept the connection open since the caller hadnít hung up himself. The car that had gotten behind her, also pulled over when she did, and the voice on the phone called out to her again.

"Get out and walk back towards us." The car behind hers flashed its headlights, then flared them to high beam and left them there.

Climbing out of the truck, Caragh tried to shield her eyes from the brightness, which was making her headache worse. As she disconnected from her caller, she noticed two men get out of the car behind her and walk around to where they stood in front of the overly bright lights.

"Thatís far enough, Dr. McConnel." The lights on the car shut down, blinding her again in the sudden darkness.

Fighting back tears, trying to get her eyes to readjust and keeping her voice as calm as possible, she ventured a guess. "You must be Alexís boss." Her vision clearing, she could just make out the features of an older man who was smoking a cigarette and the face of her brother standing behind him.

"Krychek told me you were quick." Pulling on the cigarette, the craggy face smiled. "I apologize for the run around, but I wanted to make sure that you werenít followed. Surely you understand."

"Alex said alone. And while it wasnít easy to lose the cops the local PD placed on me, I did." Dividing her attention, she kept her eyes on the two men standing before her and reached out mentally to try to figure out how close Sean, and therefore Jim, were.

"Youíve been well trained. I like that." He dropped the butt of the cigarette heíd been smoking and crushed it under his shoe. "I understand that you, along with your husband as well as Detectives Ellison and Dr. Sandburg, have been investigating the thefts of certain, shall we say, rare books?" Pulling out another cigarette from his shirt pocket, the man lit it and began smoking again.

Seeing the face of the man in the flare of the lighter, Caragh smiled tightly. "You keep that up and youíll be dead inside of two years."

"This?" He held up the lit tube of tobacco and shrugged. "Iíve been dead for years. Longer than youíve been alive actually. How I finally go is of no concern to me."

The manís total disregard for his own health, his absolute fatalistic outlook on life, made her shiver. And antsy. "Look, whoever you are, Alex said that you might have some information for me. About the thefts?"

"Cut to the point, I like that." He looked over his shoulder at his young companion. "You never told me that your sister was so direct, shame on you, Krychek." Seeing the young man squirm a little under his scrutiny, he returned his attention to the lady before him. "Very well. My group, the people that I work for, is not responsible for these thefts. We suspect another group. One that likes to ëexperimentí on people, often separating young children from their families to conduct their tests on. Tests that the children donít always survive."

The shiver that traveled down her spine was violent in its intensity. "That sounds a lot like a ëBlack Opsí to me, mister."

He smiled. "It is. But itís not the government. You see, weíve known about ësentinelsí since the nineteen forties. We know how hard it is to control them, so we leave them alone to develop naturally. Your friend, Sandburg, his paper was a brilliant piece of work, but he was right in claiming it a work of fiction. Detective Ellison is so much more effective when left alone."

Two blocks away, Jim had pulled to a stop and had, against his better instincts, ranged his own hearing out to track what was going on. At the words he just heard, he shuddered. ëThe bastard knows! But who the hell is he?í He tried to focus his sight, to get a look at the man that Caragh was speaking to, but pulled back when Sean reached out and made him lose the focus. Turning to face the other man, Jim nodded his acceptance of the secondary role and concentrated on just listening to the conversation while trying to keep Sean from zoning out, as it was his job to gather as much info on the meeting as possible.

Caragh tried to keep her anger, her rage, from building to a fevered pitch. She wasnít even sure it was all hers anyway. If her head wasnít still pounding from the concussion, she was sure that if she followed the bond cord that stretched between her and Sean, sheíd find that he, too, was angry. Clamping down on the rising emotions, she dragged herself back into the conversation. "Look, so far all youíve done is tried to throw me with your hints and allegations, and havenít told me a damn thing. Who is this ëotherí group and why would they be interested in obscure literature?"

Alex smiled at his sister, heíd told the smoking bastard that she wouldnít cave easily to veiled threats, and she was proving him right so far. She hadnít even rose to the bait of exposing Ellison and Sandburg.

"The ëotherí group is a government sanctioned think tank, based out of Delaware. Reportedly, they began to dig into the ësentinelí myths right after that unfortunate incident with Dr. Sandburgís so -called doctoral thesis." He paused to take another drag on his cigarette, "From what Iíve been able to gather, this group recently had a great deal of success with cloning a human based on one of their older projects." He had the satisfaction of watching the young woman waver for the first time as the implications of the information hit her.

"Oh, my gods!"

"Exactly. However, the new project escaped. But if my sources are correct, they managed to reacquire their original pet project, and have turned their sights to new ones. Sentinels, Protectors and their companions." He dropped the cigarette and walked closer to her. In the pale light from the moon, which had broken through the light cloud cover, he had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen as he approached.

"The other book that this group has been collecting, the Wilkins book, it would expose your family, wouldnít it?"

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