"That's him," whispered the hooded figure. His associate - a man that he had never met until earlier that afternoon - took a deep breath and said, "Okay. Let's do it."
Fatigued after a long day of fruitless searching and clues that had led nowhere, Ronald Sandoval walked down the block towards his apartment building. The entire situation was senseless and that was what made things so difficult. There was no reasoning the motivation behind the kidnapping. There had been no ransom demand. No calls to the media to claim responsibility. No one outside the investigation teams and a few close associates knew what had happened.
Why instigate the kidnapping if there was no demand for notoriety?
Lost in thought and as close to home as he was, Ronald Sandoval's fatigued brain, CVI or not, reacted just that fraction slower than normal to the movement that he detected out of the corner of his eye. The stun gun rendered him unconscious, and he was bundled into the waiting car so quickly, that no one that saw it happening nor could they do anything to prevent it. The doorman stationed outside Sandoval's apartment building immediately ran in to the building to get to the nearest comm access - the Taelons were not going to be happy.
The strident tone of her global's constant beeping roused Renee Palmer from her exhausted slumber. Fumbling into a sitting position on her couch, her hands scrubbed wearily over her face before she flicked the global open. It was Hubble Urick. Before she got the chance to open her mouth and ask what was going on, he beat her to the punch.
"I want you in the White House within the hour, Renee. There's a car waiting for you outside."
Dread colouring her tone, Renee said, "What's happened, Hub?"
Her jaw literally dropped when she heard the White House Chief of Staff say, "They've taken Sandoval too. I need you here, Renee."
"I'm on my way," she replied.
Getting wearily to her feet, she grabbed her gun and her jacket. What the hell was going on?! Why in the name of God would anybody take Sandoval too? The Taelons would never let one of the kidnappings go... to take them both was sheer lunacy.
Face grim, Captain Jonah Anderson made his way from the bridge of mothership and headed to the nearest portal access. He had a lot of work to do and by God he was going to do it. Nobody targeted a Protector and got away with it. Nobody.
First stop was the Embassy to pick up a mixed team of Volunteers and members of Volunteer Investigations, then a quick briefing for Da'an. Once that was done, a convoy of vehicles was waiting to take his team to the White House and the joint Taelon/ANA security briefing on the situation, Renee Palmer would meet them there.
Then the task of figuring out what was going on and getting their people back could begin again.
Sandoval groaned and stirred on the mattress that he found himself slumped across. His body's reactions were sluggish enough that it quickly became apparent that his captors had drugged him while unconscious - not even with his CVI could he estimate how long it had been since he was taken.
Swinging his feet slowly off the mattress, he manoeuvred himself into a sitting position and gaped at the sight in front of him. Face covered in a mottled patchwork of bruises and with a gash over his left eye, Major Liam Kincaid sat on the bed opposite with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms loosely draped round them.
In a sardonic tone, the major said, "Welcome to the party, Sandoval."
Kincaid's sardonic greeting seemed to hang in the air. Staring at his fellow Protector, Sandoval gave a silent prayer for patience and said, "What the hell is going on, Kincaid?!"
"How the hell would I know?"
"You've been here almost two days. Are you trying to tell me that they haven't told you what they want from you?" demanded Sandoval.
Sandoval was more than a little surprised to see Kincaid flinch back from his angry outburst. That wasn't normal. The major never backed down like that. Never. Annoying though the man was, one thing that he admired about Liam Kincaid was the way that he never backed down from a confrontation. Kincaid would - and had - gone head to head with Da'an, with Zo'or and with him too. Kincaid was the only Protector that challenged him on such a consistent basis. What had been going on here?
Unwrapping his arms from around his knees, Kincaid raised one hand to push it through his dishevelled hair. Ronald Sandoval watched, more than a little concerned, at the minute tremors that ran through Kincaid's hand as he did so.
"Major?... Liam..."
The response - when it came - was so softly spoken that he hardly heard it.
"They haven't said anything, Sandoval."
"But..." Sandoval moved across their 'cell' to kneel in front of Kincaid's bed and reach out one of his hands towards the other man. His hand hovered over the bruising and gash on the other man's face, almost touching, but not quite. The action spoke for itself. Why the signs of a beating?
Sandoval looked into Kincaid's weary eyes, more than a little disturbed by Kincaid's response to the unasked question. "They haven't said a word to me since I woke up in this cell. I'd almost prefer it if they had.
"When they took me for my first interrogation, I thought I might finally find out what was going on and who had taken me. I didn't. It wasn't an interrogation. They sat me in a chair and beat me. No reasons. No explanations. Just pain.
"When I say nobody's said anything to me since I got here, I'm being literal. No one has said anything to me. They take me at random intervals for another session. The room changes. Sometimes it's empty, sometimes they put me in the chair, and sometimes, they strap me to a table. There are two constants. Nobody says anything and they film every session.
"I have no idea why they're doing what they're doing."
By the time Kincaid was done with his explanation a cold fury was burning in Sandoval. Reasons could wait; it was time to get of there first. Not really sure why he did as he did, Sandoval placed a reassuring hand on Kincaid's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. Then, he stood up and turned to face the door of the cell, skrill raised, his intent clear.
The minute his arm raised, an energy pulse fired from somewhere above their heads and knocked Kincaid off of the bed. A monotone voice filled the room.
"This is your one and only warning. Any attempt to use the skrill will result in immediate reprisals against Subject Kincaid."
Eyes fuming, Sandoval lowered his arm. He'd test that ultimatum... later. Sighing, he turned to help Kincaid get back to his feet. Mindful of the injuries the other man had already suffered, he tried to be as gentle as he could.
"Come on, Liam. Let's get you back on the bed."
It took a few minutes before he managed to get his fellow Protector settled comfortably. He nodded his acknowledgement to Kincaid's murmured thanks and moved back to his own bed. Sitting down, he removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie. He had some thinking to do. Who would snatch two Protectors? More importantly, why?
His CVI allowed him to keep track of the amount of time that had passed so he knew it was almost four hours later when the cell door was opened. He could see two men in black fatigues through the doorway. He could also hear the minute hitch in breath from the other side of the cell that showed that Liam had seen them too.
With an impassive face, he watched as the forcefield round the doorway was also lowered - mentally noting that this place wasn't going to be as easy to escape from as it first seemed - eyes following the movement of the two men into the room.
He jumped to his feet to protest as one of the men roughly yanked Kincaid off of his bed but he never got the chance to say anything. He felt the stun gun at his chest and then the excruciating pain that preceded his fall into unconsciousness.
When he eventually woke, he had once again lost track of time and Kincaid's bed was still ominously empty.
From the time of his revival he could once again use his CVI to track the passage of time and it was three hours before the cell door re-opened. Kincaid was literally flung into the room and then the door was shut again.
Dropping to his knees beside the other man, Sandoval tried to gently manoeuvre the other man onto his bed. He stopped abruptly at the cry of pain when his hand touched Kincaid's back. Cautiously, he turned Kincaid on to his side and swore in horror. It looked like the major had been whipped! The cuts indicated some sort of energy weapon, but the pattern was consistent with lash marks.
It took a great deal of care on his part, and muffled cries of pain on behalf of the major, but he eventually managed to get the other man onto his bed. Damaged and bruised ribs meant that Kincaid couldn't lie on his stomach, so he improvised.
Climbing onto his bed, he lay against the wall and moved Kincaid so that he was lying on his side facing him. He wanted to keep the other man still to prevent him moving and re-opening his wounds, so he moved Kincaid's head so that it was resting on his shoulder and moved his arm so that it gently cradled the major's back. Not so tight that it would cause too much discomfort, just tight enough that he could prevent the man thrashing about in his sleep.
The man had given in to the pain and lapsed into unconsciousness, which was just as well. If Kincaid were alert enough to realise that he was resting secure in his arms, Sandoval was fairly sure that the ruckus he caused would be heard on the mothership.
Standing in front of the virtual glass windows in the embassy, Da'an turned and directed his attention to the Volunteer technical team that was trawling through his Protector's computer files and his itinerary for the past three months, to see if they could find any clues that would give a reason why he had been abducted. There were similar teams going through Agent Sandoval's offices, both here in the embassy and on the mothership.
Da'an sighed, and moved to his own communications console... perhaps Captain Anderson and Ms. Palmer were having better luck with the FBI teams that were scouring their dwellings. These abductions were baffling. When it had been only Liam that had been taken, his first thought had been that it was another scheme of Zo'or's, but his child had vehemently denied any involvement. His genuine bewilderment at Major Kincaid's abduction had not been feigned... nor had his fury when Sandoval had been taken.
Waiting for Captain Anderson to reply to his call, Da'an sighed again. His child's relationship with Sandoval was baffling. They hated each other, they certainly didn't trust each other, but somehow they seemed to be able to work together when they had to; the number of times they had thwarted his efforts to curtail Zo'or's excesses proved that. No matter their personal antipathy, Zo'or was furious; he wanted his Protector back.
When Captain Anderson appeared on the other end of the communications link, his face was expressive in its frustration.
"Captain, have you had any success in determining who has taken Major Kincaid?"
His expressive blue eyes showing his disgust with the task force's lack of process, Jonah Anderson said, "At this point, Da'an, we still can't find any reasons why Kincaid and Sandoval would be abducted, let alone who ordered it."
Da'an sighed and nodded his understanding. In a soft voice, he said, "Has there been any progress made at all?"
Running a hand through his short-cropped blond hair, Jonah looked at the North American Companion and said, "Maybe. It's still a bit too soon to tell."
"May I ask what you have found?"
There was silence for a long moment before Captain Anderson responded to his query.
"All right, Da'an. You have to understand that this information is known only to a handful of the task force. I'm trying to keep the avenues of information as narrow as possible. There's less chance of the wrong people finding out. I'm certain that there's a security breach somewhere.
"Kincaid and Sandoval are experienced Protectors. It's standard procedure for all of us to vary our travel and security routines. A set pattern is too easy to breach. Both of them were taken in broad daylight, and that shows inside information was obtained from somewhere.
"Anyway... we may have, and I stress may have, caught a lucky break.
"The expert that Ms. Palmer called in to assist in the search has managed to use some computer wizardry to isolate a reflection of one of Agent Sandoval's abductors off of a car mirror from a vehicle parked on the street where he was abducted. We're running it through all known criminal databases worldwide."
"I understand, Captain. Please keep me informed of any new developments."
"Of course, Da'an." Jonah Anderson closed his global and turned to share a look with Renee Palmer.
What he had left unspoken - unsure if the Taelon would understand the human reasoning - was that they were running out of time. It was now approaching the four-day mark for Kincaid's abduction, two days for Sandoval. With each passing day, the likelihood of finding them alive and unharmed grew progressively more unlikely. The humans leading the search knew it. The Taelons - for once not responsible for the situation - probably didn't understand the need for a quick resolution to the investigation.
Coming as something of a surprise to him, Liam Kincaid woke feeling surprisingly refreshed considering the 'session' he'd endured yesterday. His back throbbed in agony, his ribs felt like someone had done a tap dance on them, so why did he feel so peaceful? And why did his pillow have a heartbeat?
No... it wasn't possible... if there was any mercy in the universe... Opening his eyes, Liam focused his attention to his immediate surroundings. Yep... let the mortification begin... he was snuggled up to Sandoval...
"Major. You're awake," said Sandoval in a quiet, careful tone.
"And a little confused here, Sandoval..."
It was almost worth the mortification he had felt when he saw the faint tinge of embarrassment suffuse Sandoval's features, as he said, "I didn't want you to aggravate your injuries any further, Major."
Liam successfully fought the blink of astonishment he wanted to make. That almost sounded like concern in Sandoval's tone.
"Thank you," he said quietly. For a long moment there was silence. Almost reluctantly, Liam raised his head off of Sandoval's shoulder and swung his legs slowly off the other man's bed. Stifling a groan and relying heavily on the steadying hand offered by the agent, he made his way to his own bed and perched on the end.
Moving from within Sandoval's protective embrace he felt strangely bereft. The pain in his back also focused his mind on the events that resulted in that pain. His eyes widened.
"Sandoval... I remember something!"
Suddenly intent, Sandoval acted more in character as he barked out, "What?"
"When they were bringing me back here, I think they thought I was unconscious... the two goons were talking to each other..."
"And?"
"They'd never met before they were contracted for this 'job'. I'd lay odds that none of them have. This isn't personal for them. It's just a job."
"Someone else is behind this. Someone with a great deal of resources. What the hell do they want with us?"
"I don't..."
Liam never got a chance to visit his sentence. Knockout gas hissed in through the air vents and Sandoval slumped into unconsciousness. Liam fought to stay conscious, but his reactions to gases had never been consistent. He could hold his breath a great deal longer than the average human, and some gases had no discernable effect - some did. Unfortunately, this one did.
His groggy eyes saw the gas-masked faces of his favourite goons as they ignored him and dragged Sandoval out of the cell. His mind cried out in frustration at his inability to act, Not Sandoval! He didn't want them to hurt Sandoval!
Sandoval came to and found himself in a strange room strapped to a chair that was embedded in a platform in the centre of the room. The two goons that had taken Liam from their cell earlier were there, as were several other figures in black fatigues.
Seeing that he was awake, one of these figures walked towards him and backhanded him against the jaw. Head ringing from the blow, Sandoval was more than a little surprised to find his main feeling was one of relief. At least it was him this time and not Liam...
A persistent beeping in his ear roused Jonah Anderson from his exhausted slumber. Automatically, his tanned hand reached out to beat the life out of his alarm clock... but the clock wasn't there. He wasn't at home. He was in one of Renee Palmer's guest bedrooms, the girl called Street was crashing in a room down the hall. They had taken up her offer of a place to stay when their strategy session had run on till three that morning.
The beeping was his global...
Instantly awake, his hand reached out and grabbed the instrument making the offending noise and he flicked it open with practised ease and barked out, "What?!"
The message delivered by one of his Volunteers caused a predatory smile to appear on his face.
"Assemble the teams, Sergeant Taylor. We'll be there in thirty minutes."
Scrambling out of the bed, Jonah quickly grabbed his clothes and headed out of the room, calling out, "Ms. Palmer... Renee... we need to get moving!"
Two heads appeared at bedroom doors. Jonah split his attention between the tousled blonde hair and tousled red locks of the two ladies and said, "We've located the kidnapper that Ms. Street identified for us. The teams are assembling as we speak. We need to get moving."
Renee looked at Street, who nodded. Turning her attention back to Jonah, she said, "We'll be ready to leave in five minutes."
When Sandoval had been brought back to their cell, it had been all Liam could do to hold back his cry of horror and anguish. The other man's face was almost grey and his lips were tinged with blue. Knowing they wouldn't answer him, he still hissed out, "What the hell did you do to him?" to the goons that had brought him back to the cell.
Ignoring them as they walked out of the cell, and ignoring the forcefield being raised, Liam - uncaring of his own injuries - dropped to his knees beside Sandoval and reached out a trembling hand to check for a pulse. It was there... Thank God... but Sandoval still hadn't roused. His skin was cold and clammy and there were marks on his temples. Could they be marks from some kind of scanning equipment? Maybe sensory overload, or possibly sensory deprivation? Was that why he was so cold?
Ignoring the pain it caused in his tired and wounded body, Liam gently lifted Sandoval to his feet and positioned him on his bed. Moving quickly, he stripped the blanket and pillow off of his own bed and moved back to Sandoval. The other man might kill him when he woke up, but it was time to return the favour. Sandoval had taken care of him; he would take care of Sandoval.
Using his and Sandoval's pillows to cushion his injured back, Liam sat on Sandoval's bed, wrapped the other man in the blanket he had taken from his bed and cradled him in his arms, doing his best to warm up the still unconscious man.
Mindful of the cameras that were undoubtedly watching their every move, Liam said, "Come on, Sandoval. Wake up. Don't give them the satisfaction of thinking they've beaten us.
"We'll get out of this, and when we do..."
At the same time, he closed his eyes and sent out a different message to Sandoval, a heartfelt one. Don't leave me alone here, father. Please. I don't think either one of us will survive this alone. I need you.
Unknowingly, his hand came up to cradle Sandoval's head closer as the Implant began to shiver.
Someone did see it, though; the person that had orchestrated and financed the kidnappings.
In his penthouse office, Malcolm Hanson-Smythe pressed the button that zoomed the camera in on the face of Kincaid. His left hand reached out and typed a command on the console in front of him and an image captured the night before was displayed on a separate monitor - Sandoval with concern clearly evident on his face, as Kincaid slept at his side.
It was almost time for the next stage. A cold, hard smile etched his features as he considered his plans.
He'd done careful research before picking these subjects. They could, and had on occasion, work together very well; and when they were working together toward a common goal, they were an almost unbeatable team.
At the same time, they were unacknowledged adversaries. They didn't agree about anything and they served their Taelon masters with radically different styles. Sandoval had tried, on more than one occasion, to eliminate Kincaid, and Kincaid knew this. Still, Kincaid had gone out of his way - on several occasions - to save Sandoval's life.
They were the best Protectors on the planet and the most bizarrely, personally loyal enemies that he had ever come across. They would be his revenge against the Taelons.
He would wound them and he would hurt them. He would let them get closer; let a bond of shared suffering build. Then he would test that bond. Pitting individual freedom against the survival of their companion, and then he would see if they would emerge as selfish or self-sacrificing. Initial assessments had led him to believe that it would be Sandoval who could be relied on to act in his own best interests... but the events in the cell were beginning to cast doubts on that assumption, and this pleased him greatly. He enjoyed a challenge.
As his secretary called through to announce his lunch appointment, the old man shut off the monitors that showed the live feed from the cell in the sub-basement of his company's corporate headquarters. The next stage would have to wait a few hours...
Much to her disgust, Renee Palmer had to wait with Street and the rest of the mini-Task Force assigned to the kidnapping investigation while Jonah Anderson and a handpicked team of Volunteers and FBI agents 'acquired' the man that had tentatively been identified as one of Sandoval's kidnappers. That was the disadvantage of being a deep cover agent for the opposite side; nobody else knew - or could know - that you were more than a mere business executive.
Damn, but she hated waiting!
Her global signalled a message and all eyes fixed on her. The smile on her face was answer enough, but Street asked the question anyway. "They got him?"
"Yes, they got him. They're bringing him in now."
It took a mere twenty minutes for Street to positively identify the man as the person she had identified using the security camera footage from the street where Sandoval had been taken. That done, the interrogation could start. It ran roughshod over a couple of the kidnapper's civil liberties but, as the crime had been perpetrated against Taelon interests, Jonah Anderson - as a recognised Companion Protector - had the legal authority to do what was needed.
The kidnapper, Graham Bernard, didn't actually know all that much. He was a freelance operator that had been contacted by a third party for a 'special' job. He'd been told it would be high risk and that the target was high profile, but he hadn't cared. This one job had promised more money than he had made in the last three years. He admitted to not doing the job alone, stating that he had met his accomplice the day of the job. They had carried out their assigned roles and never seen each other since.
Bernard blatantly refused to give up his accomplice's name, much to the fury of the FBI agents on the task force. Jonah Anderson had given a cold smile and flicked open his global. A call to Hubble Urick took care of the problem. The White House Chief of Staff called the Attorney General, who called a federal judge; the judge, upon hearing the facts of the case, issued a bench warrant on the spot. It allowed use of interrogation drugs on the prisoner and full authorisation to delve through all his financial records.
The last was all that Street had been waiting for. Using the state of the art equipment at Anderson's disposal she began to run simultaneous cross-searches over Graham Bernard's financial dealings and every person or company that had interacted with his accounts - whether it be to pay him money, or him paying them the balance due on the bills he owed.
With the motivation that she had, it took Street an hour to find what they were looking for. It had been routed through fifty different false trails, but the money paid to Bernard had come from a small company owned by MHS, the media conglomerate - the transaction authorisation was traced back to the office of the Chairman.
That was where things got 'interesting'. Malcolm Hanson-Smythe was a well-known and outspoken critic of all things Taelon, but he was an extremely wealthy and extremely powerful critic. His company's influence could make or break the careers of politicians. They were going to have to proceed much more circumspectly. The task force did have more power behind it but Smythe could call in favours that would have them tripping over lawyers and local law enforcement, effectively slowing them down.
Jonah and Renee shared a grim look. Smythe had long been considered a short step away from fanatic. If he had Sandoval and Kincaid, they were in a world of trouble.
Liam Kincaid sighed wearily and raised his chin from its resting place on his forearms. Slowly, painfully, he unwrapped his arms from around his knees and maneuvered himself into a more or less sitting position, perched uneasily on the edge of the bed that was beginning to feel uneasily too much like his sole refuge. He was getting used to his confinement, and that was worrying him.
Worrying him more was the fact that Sandoval had still not been returned from the latest round of the sick game that their unknown captor seemed to be playing. Liam ignored the pain in his left hip and his still raw back, stood up, beginning to pace back and forth. Anger and determination to get out of this hell-hole had been his constant companions from the beginning of this incarceration - what was beginning to scare him was the rage that he could feel building deep within himself.
If this continued physical and psychological torture resulted in him doing something against his nature then their unknown captor would have won his game, and he didn't want to give that person the gratification of knowing he had beaten and broken him. The rage kept building, though.
Liam sighed. This had been a nightmare from beginning to end. Not even with Sandoval's CVI had they been able to keep track of the passage of time. They had no idea how long ago they had been taken, and, though they had never discussed it, it was silently acknowledged between them that they were running out of time.
Their rough treatment had never abated. In fact, the schedule seemed to have escalated. The interval between their sessions seemed to be shortening - or so they thought. The ante had been upped. Now, not only was there sensory deprivation in the sessions, their cell had become a prison of light. The lights that shone down on them were brutal and inescapable, and the hidden speakers in the cell had been playing an almost inaudible cacophony of sounds, seemingly forever. Sandoval's CVI enhanced hearing was being badly affected, and he himself had found that his Kimera heritage was not an asset in this matter either.
Liam sighed. Neither he nor Sandoval would be able to take much more of this. He'd done his best to reason with Sandoval. With his Skrill, the Implant would have a reasonable chance at overcoming the rotating band of Stooges that carried out their torture. He'd called upon every logical and reasoned argument he could think of to get Sandoval to run, to ignore the warning of what would happen to his fellow prisoner if he used his Skrill in an escape attempt.
Liam shut his eyes as his perfect recall replayed his last attempt at reasoning with his father.
"Sandoval, you have the better chance at escaping. We both know it. Help isn't going to come soon enough. You know it. I know it. We need to make our own luck here.
"Please. Just go. One of us has to get out of here and the odds favour you. Get out. Find out who ordered this. Bring them down."
Sandoval had just looked at him, face expressionless. He had then resulted to a more personal plea.
"Please, my friend. I appreciate your concern for my safety, but we both know there is no other option. I'd rest easier knowing that at least one of us got out of this alive. I want you to do this."
Sandoval's reply had been concise and to the point and had the strange effect of both easing his heart and scaring the hell out of him. His father had said seven simple words... "We leave together, or not at all."
Liam's head jerked round as he heard the forcefield dropping. His eyes worriedly looked for Sandoval's unconscious form. He wasn't there! The terror in his heart didn't have time to build. The stun guns directed at his body rendered him unconscious within a half a second.
When he woke, he found himself in an empty chamber - empty, except for one thing - Sandoval. His limp form had been dumped in the middle of the room. Scrambling hastily to his feet, Liam made his way over to his father's side and felt for a pulse. Breathing a sigh of relief he couldn't hide, the tension in Liam's shoulders relaxed. Sandoval was still alive.
It took another half hour for Sandoval to rouse to full consciousness, and when he did so, two of the Stooges brought in a pair of chairs. They were simple chairs - ones with no restraints - too tired to care about what was going on now, the pair slumped in to them. No words were spoken, but two pairs of eyes expressed relief at seeing the other man was still okay.
The disembodied voice of their captor - a sound that they had both grown to hate more than anything else in their lives - intruded on their silence.
"Gentlemen. Only one of you gets to leave this room alive. You have ten minutes. I leave the choice up to you. Which of you lives, and which of you dies?"
The response to his announcement was instantaneous and, in light of his recent observations, not unexpected. Two voices spoke as one...
Kincaid said, "Sandoval must live, I die."
Sandoval said, "I choose to die. Kincaid lives."
Malcolm Hanson-Smythe sat in his inner sanctum and gave a cold smile... this experiment in terror was proving to be far more enjoyable than he had anticipated. Opening the channel that allowed him to communicate with his guests, he said, "I acknowledge your input, gentlemen. You'll know my decision soon enough.
"Upon reflection, I'll let you both sweat things out a little longer.
"Guards... return them to their room."
Seconds later, Sandoval and Kincaid were once again stunned into oblivion by their ever-present guards and dumped back in the room that was their prison.
Hours later, when they had both regained consciousness, a heated debate raged between them as to who was the better choice to die. Each man felt the burning need to be the one to win his argument; the other must not be the one to die.
Sandoval didn't know why he fought so hard to make Kincaid see he had to be the one to live; he just knew that Liam could not be allowed to sacrifice his life - especially for a man such as himself. As for Liam, his fight was both desperate and bittersweet. He knew what Sandoval had done... and what he was capable of... but still, he couldn't let the man die. That Sandoval felt the same way about him - without knowing that he was his son - made Liam feel sad and joyful at the same time. Sandoval was ready to die for his colleague Liam... it gave him hope that one day - if by some miracle they both got out of this mess alive - that he might be ready to accept his son Liam too.
Twenty minutes after their discussion had tapered off into an uneasy silence, the voice spoke again.
"After careful consideration, I have decided that while disposing of Agent Sandoval would hurt Major Kincaid considerably, I believe that disposing of Major Kincaid will grate against Agent Sandoval even more.
"Major Kincaid dies."
"NO! NO! You son of a-- take me! Leave him alone!"
Liam closed his eyes at the overt show of emotion from the normally stoic Implant. At least Sandoval was going to live... that was something to be thankful for. The question was, should he tell Sandoval the truth about his identity before he died? Probably not... but he had to. Sandoval deserved to know.
The gas that pumped into the room robbed him of the chance...
Sandoval awoke; again not knowing how much time had passed, and sat head in his hands. They'd taken Liam. What had the other man been going to say before the gas had overcome them? Was he still alive?
Eyes blazing, Sandoval slowly stepped to his feet. Liam was no longer there to be used against him. His arm snapped up, his glowing Skrill seething with an anger to match his own... he fired... damn the consequences. He was going to bring this place down around his captors' heads...
In a staging area in a nearby office building, Street looked up from the console she had been monitoring. It had taken many precious hours and a few favours called in from associates, but she'd obtained the real blueprints to the headquarters of the MHS Corporation... including the hidden sub-basements and the generators that provided their separate power supply.
She'd rigged a frequency-damping field to neutralise the outer ring of security features, after that, Jonah's teams would have to deal with things as they went.
"Jonah! Renee! I just detected an energy spike in one of the rooms in the bottom sub-basement. The frequency matches Agent Sandoval's Skrill."
The Protector's eyes grew focused. He turned to his teams of Volunteers and motioned them to the portable ID Portals that had been set up.
"That's it, people. We're out of time. Sandoval and Kincaid are the priorities. I want them found - alive.
"I'd prefer prisoners, but deadly force is authorised. Our people are our priority.
"All teams go!"
"Sir!"
Jonah paused in mid-step at the tone of voice of the Volunteer that was calling him. Fingering the comm-unit in his ear, he said, "Volunteer, report."
There was a brief silence before the Volunteer said, "I really think you need to see this yourself."
"Where are you?"
"South-west corridor, sir."
Exchanging a concerned look, Renee and Jonah quickly headed off to see what had unnerved the Volunteer so badly, their Volunteer escort at their heels. The sight that greeted them had the usually unflappable Renee blanching white in shock and Jonah had to fight to keep from swearing aloud in shock; the murmurs of their escort were clearly apparent.
It looked like a charnel house.
There were ten bodies littered across the corridor - and none of them had died easily. Jonah's eyes catalogued the twisted angles of those hostiles that had had their necks efficiently broken; some had energy blasts - clearly from their own weapons. There were a few scorch marks to indicate that a Skrill had been fired at full power... it was a horrifying scene.
Much as the wanton death would upset anyone - even a seasoned Protector - that was not what most horrified Jonah, it was the rage that permeated the scene. Sandoval had stalked that corridor like the Grim Reaper himself, and that could only mean one thing... something had happened to Kincaid...
They had to find them both, and soon.
Turning his attention back to his comm-unit, Jonah broadcast some new orders. "As of this moment, assume Agent Sandoval is somewhere at large in the facility - exercise all due caution.
"I don't want any friendly-fire incidents on either side. Clear?"
His teams acknowledged their new orders. Jonah took a deep breath and addressed his Volunteers, saying, "Double time, everyone. Sandoval is in full search and destroy mode and that can mean only one thing..."
Jonah's voice trailed off but everyone got the unspoken message... Something must have happened to Major Kincaid... something bad...
The search continued.
Surprisingly calm considering the burning rage vibrating through his soul, Sandoval assessed the closed doorway in front of him. It was the last room in this wing - and the most heavily defended, this had to be where they had taken Liam... it had to be.
Sandoval fought to keep focussed for just a little longer. He felt fatigue gripping at his bones, but he couldn't rest. Not yet. He had to get to Liam... and if he were too late... he had to avenge the major. If he were too late, he would burn this entire goddamn building to the ground.
Taking a deep breath, Sandoval readied himself. Time to finish this. Looking at the door, he chose his method of attack, a full frontal assault. His arm raised and Raven fired...
Diving through the door in a controlled evasive roll, Sandoval sprang to his feet, his gaze sweeping the room. The sight that greeted his half-second assessment almost made his heart stop. Liam's bare torso was peppered with welts and burns; the smell of burnt flesh was pervasive throughout the entire room. There were electrodes on his temples and the uninjured portions of his torso, but what really frightened Sandoval was the clearly strident tone coming from the monitoring equipment; it signalled one thing, Liam had flat-lined.
Of its own volition, Sandoval's arm raised and the Skrill fired repeatedly - this time to stun and not to kill - he wanted answers, he wanted the person behind this nightmare.
Ignoring the unconscious forms scattered around him, Sandoval quickly disconnected Liam from all the equipment apart from the heart monitor. Looking at the pale face of his colleague - no, damn it - his friend, Sandoval shut off his emotions and did what he had to do...
That was the sight that greeted Jonah, Renee and the Volunteers as they followed his trail of destruction through the facility... a frantic Sandoval doing CPR on Major Kincaid.
Raising his lips from Liam's and resuming chest compressions, Sandoval met Jonah's gaze and barked out in a hoarse voice, "Get medics and a containment team down here, Anderson. Now!"
Jonah barked orders into his global and pulled Renee out of the way as the Volunteers secured the room and the prisoners. Once everything had been secured, all eyes turned to Sandoval and the Volunteer helping him; the room was silent as the battle to revive Kincaid was played out in front of their eyes...
The atmosphere of the waiting room was tense... fearful. Conversation was kept to hushed whispers. St. Anne's Hospital was the closest medical facility to the site where the Protectors had been found, Captain Anderson - the Protector who had led the taskforce - had issued orders that had sent the hospital into a level one security alert... the injured Protectors were theirs to deal with. The civilians present at the hospital looked on in curiosity but sensibly kept well out of the way.
Volunteers and police officers had descended on the hospital en masse... and just in the nick of time. The kidnappings had been kept quiet, but the rescue at the headquarters of MHS Corporation had been anything but... it had been headline news around the world within twenty minutes of the assault.
Images of Major Liam Kincaid being stretchered out of the building and into a waiting ambulance had been graphic to say the least, the image of the police cars escorting the ambulance - sirens wailing and lights flashing - were burned into the memory of those that caught the reports on the news; the stricken faces of the Volunteers as they watched it leave at odds with their ruthless reputation. Added to that, had been the unbelievable sight of the notorious Agent Ronald Sandoval being carefully supported as he walked to his own ambulance, by none other than Renee Palmer!
Renee rested her head back against the chair that had been her home for the last few hours and shut her eyes. The terror of those moments when Sandoval and the Volunteer had carried out CPR would be burned in her memory forever. The medics had been there within minutes and had taken over the fight. It had taken a minor miracle but they had brought Liam back.
Once he had been sure that his fellow prisoner was breathing, Sandoval had barked, "Report!" to Jonah. Jonah had gone on to detail the investigation into the kidnappings and the man behind it all, finishing with, "He made his escape from a portable portal in his office, sir." The irony of Smythe - the man that hated anything alien with a passion - using a portal to escape was not lost on the small group of people gathered in the sub-basement prison.
"Find him, Jonah," said Sandoval in a tired voice.
"Consider it done, Sandoval," said Jonah. "Where will you be, sir?"
"With Liam."
More than one pair of eyes widened at the tone of Sandoval's voice. There was fear there... fear and worry... for the Protector that seemingly had the gift to annoy him more than any other - usually just by walking in the room.
Renee's recollections were disturbed by the sudden and complete silence in the room. Sitting up, she opened her eyes and saw the doctor treating Liam. Getting to her feet, she moved forward and said, "How is he?"
He ignored her question and looked to the slumped form in the corner. Sandoval had let them examine him and he'd let them bandage him, but he'd refused any further treatment stating that his own doctors would see to him later.
"Agent Sandoval, we need your help with Major Kincaid."
Sandoval moved so fast it was hard to believe how bad he had been tortured over the last few days. He glared into the doctor's eyes and said, "What's wrong?"
"The major is... He's... It'll be simpler if I just show you."
Sandoval, Renee and a pair of Volunteers followed the doctor along the corridor and stood stock still in shock at the sight that greeted them. Liam, swaying on his feet, body visibly shaking with tremors, had backed himself into the corner of the hospital room with his arms wrapped tightly around a nurse, a laser scalpel at her throat. Eyes terrified, hand shaking, he was screaming to everyone that came close to, "Stay back!"
A soft voice intruded on the spectacle. "Liam." All eyes noted the slight twitch in Liam's battered body.
The "stay back" was not as vehement this time.
"Liam. Liam, it's all right. You're safe. We're safe."
Tired eyes sought out the one voice that had calmed him, the one voice that he'd needed to hear.
"Sandoval? Safe?"
Moving forward slowly, Sandoval reached out with gentle hands to get the scalpel and disentangle the nurse from Liam's terrified grasp. Uncaring of who was watching, he reached up and gently pulled Liam's head down to his own, till their foreheads were almost touching.
"You're safe. It's all right. I won't let anyone hurt you again."
All the fight went out of Liam's body and he slumped forward in Sandoval's arms. Wrapping his arms round the traumatised man, Sandoval repeated over and over, "I'm here. You're safe now. I promise."
Three months later, all eyes were still amazed by the sight of the two Protectors wandering down the corridors of the Washington Embassy laughing quietly.
Malcolm Hanson-Smythe had been captured, tried and sentenced to eighty years in SenDep without possibility of parole. His insanity had led to atrocities being perpetrated on the two Protectors; still, one good thing had emerged from their ordeal. Surprising everyone and confounding the Taelons, the two Protectors that had been barely civil outside of their duties were now the best of friends, and no scheme of Zo'or's or Da'an's had succeeded in coming between the pair.
Times and attitudes were changing in the Protector and Volunteer corps, these changes brought about by the friendship between the two. Changes for the better.