It was raining by the time Jim, had caught up with his friend at the entrance of the airport. "Man, I don't believe this" Blair muttered. "Maybe the rain is following us?"

"I doubt it," Jim said, thrusting Blair's travel bags into his hands. "C'mon, we need to find a cab."

Ellison headed off towards the main street, with Blair shuffling behind him. Blair stopped behind Jim, once they got there. He watched as the younger man set his bag down to grab an elastic to pull his semi-drenched hair back. The problem in New York was not the lack of taxis but the finding an unoccupied one and getting it to stop. However, they were saved this problem. They had the good grace to find a taxi, for this Ellison was grateful. Thank God, I did not need Sandburg complaining about another thing.

The cab was good as far as New York standards went, no psychopathic killer in the drivers seat. However Jim pegged the man as a foreigner. He had a slight accent as well as the slang lingo. Jim was becoming concerned for his guide. Blair's mood was in an expanding depression, growing deeper thanks to the drivers need to be friendly and provide small talk.

The rain had let up by the time the cab pulled up to the hotel. Jim tipped the driver while Blair climbed wordlessly out. By the time Jim got inside, his partner had paid for the additional days, and Jim took the key to the room, surprised it was the same one. Jim started to unpack as Blair threw his stuff on his bed and headed for the shower.

The water had just begun to relax him when he heard Jim's voice say that he was going out to get some things. Blair mumbled an affirmative or something, he didn't remember. To tell the truth, he didn't care. After a relaxing shower, he emerged from the bathroom, only to find that Jim wasn't back yet. Blair grabbed a telephone book and ordered some Chinese food, hoping Jim wouldn't come back with dinner. I have to admit, New York has some good food.

Twenty minutes later, the food arrived but still no sign of Jim. He opened up the bag to discover only one dinner, one fortune cookie, and one set of utensils. Blair jumped up to see if he could catch the delivery boy. He sprinted out into the hall.

Gone.

Damn.

"I hate New York."

Blair ate his Chinese food, exactly what he had ordered for himself. He'd deal with Jim's dinner problem whenever Jim decided to get back. However, considering the bad aftertaste of the food, he thought his companion with the heightened sense of taste would be grateful to pass on it. Weird tasting food, another thing he could put on his 'Things I hate about New York City' list.

Once he had stowed the hostility, Blair started to write down some of his notes for his Sentinel research. After all, the stupid city had provided him a new setting to test Jim's senses. He had noted many opportunities when they had first arrived when the smog and the noise earned an immediate response. Blair's eyes blurred. he took off his glasses, sat on the bed, and turned on the television. He was deep asleep within minutes. Blair woke to the sound of a vacuum cleaner in the hallway and was granted with a knock on his door. Looking at the clock, he saw that he had slept all night. He turned expecting to see Jim but instead saw the other bed still empty and more importantly unslept in, Blair walked to the door, half expecting to see Jim wander in. Out all night Jim? Naughty boy.

Instead, there stood a woman in her forties. "Do you need fresh towels?"

Blair thanked her, then closed the door. "Jim, if you make me search the streets of New York, then you do not want to see me when I find you. That, is unless I get run over by a taxi." Blair then had a flash of his Sentinel zoning on a busy New York street and pictured his partner in the previous setting. Blair grabbed his backpack and headed downstairs in a hurry.

The front desk manager hadn't seen Jim. No wait, that wasn't accurate. He said he hadn't even seen Jim check in. Blair's paranoia tried to make itself present but he dismissed it. It was late, I paid for the room, Blair tried to convince himself.

Blair then asked the desk clerk to check to see who the reservation was under for the same room, nine days ago.

"Um, yes here we are, a reservation was called in from Cascade and a room was reserved for a Blair Sandburg."

"But Jim made those reservations." Blair paused to let his brain start functioning again. "Can you check to see if a James Ellison has checked in at all in the past two weeks?"

"Ellison?" The clerk's brow furrowed. He peered at the screen. "E-l-l-i-s-o-n? I'm sorry I have no listing. Perhaps I'm spelling the name wrong?"

"No," Blair said gritting his teeth. "Can I use your phone?"

The clerk turned the phone around for Blair's use. "I'll bill it to your room."

Blair waited for the clerk to move off, then quickly dialed the Cascade precinct. He was greeted by an annoying tone, then the words, "I'm sorry but the number you have dialed is not in order." He hung up on the recorded message. He then got another idea. Blair hit '0' and asked for the number for the airport. No, we haven't heard of a James Ellison, yes we do have a reservation for you, Mr. Sandburg. Sorry we couldn't help.

Blair slammed the phone down. Just what the hell was going on?

Jim had found a little shop that Blair would love. It was filled with old books and ancient mythology. Jim knew he had stayed too long when an employee asked him if he needed help. Gently, he said no. He should get back while the takeout was still warm. However, he quickly got sidetracked by another tourist trap. New York seemed to have an abundance of those.

The rain had started again, and Jim had to wonder if Blair was right. Maybe it was following them. Jim's walk back to the hotel had been a pretty dry one. He utilized the canopies thus staying out of the rain.

Jim walked into the room, announcing, "Sandburg, dinner. Get your butt out here." He stopped. Something was wrong. He threw the plastic bag down on the table. Where was Sandburg's backpack? Why didn't he hear the shower running? Where the hell had that kid gone in three hours?

Simon and Joel Taggart, bomb expert extraordinaire, were relaxing, because surprisingly in Cascade, it was quiet. They were taking advantage of it by heading out to eat before going back to their paperwork. Sometimes the legal end was the hardest part of the job.

Because of the intermittent rain, crime rate had gone down. "It's too much work for criminals to get an umbrella," Joel joked.

"I agree. They could always steal one." The cell phone rang.

"Surprised that thing hasn't gotten water logged."

Simon set down the food and searched his pocket for the phone. "Me too." Simon flipped the phone open. "Banks."

"Yeah, Simon, it's Jim."

"Jim."

"I called the precinct and they told me you went out to eat, so I called your cell phone."

"Okay, Jim, cut the preamble, what's up?"

"Blair took off. He left me a note saying he was going back to Cascade."

"What!?! How is he planning to get back here?"

"I dunno, Simon. He knows the airstrip isn't open in Cascade. Besides both tickets are still here."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Just keep an eye out for him. I'm going to see if anyone's seen him. If he shows up, call me."

"Okay, Jim, I'll keep an eye out."

"Okay, Simon. I'll call you if I find out anything." They hung up.

"Blair took off in the big city." Simon explained when he saw Joel's questioning look. "That kid is too much to handle sometimes."

"Tell me about it."

As soon as he and Simon hung up, Jim started to search the room, senses turned up. No sign of the backpack, nor any of Blair's stuff. This wasn't good. Jim picked up the note that was written on one of the complementary sheets of paper. I should go to a local precinct and tell them we have a missing person. But that means delays. Ellision mentally sighed. As he walked into the bathroom, his nose wrinkled. What was that smell? He sniffed the air again and sneezed. Then it hit him as a memory flashed on him, walking into the loft and being assaulted with Naomi's sage. That was it. But what was it doing here?

He had specifically insisted that the younger man not bring any of the incense with him from the retreat. So Blair had begrudgingly agreed. Jim had never known Blair to lie to him. Even if he had taken some with him, why did it smell like it had been burned? Sandburg would know better. Something was wrong, after all this was Blair Sandburg, he was talking about. The young man seemed to have a permanent bulls-eye painted on his back. So Jim methodically set to searching the room, in detail.

Blair had run downstairs with only his backpack and had left his coat in the room. Now, walking out on the street, he was greeted with a cool breeze that almost calmed him. After he had walked around the block, turned a corner here, made a left there, almost got hit by a car on the next street, he realized, he had no clue where he was going. A more important realization came a second later. He didn't even know where he was now.

He was lost.

How am I going to find Jim, if I don't even have a clue where I am?

Blair managed to hail a taxi cab. And talk about coincidences, it was the same cabby that had driven he and Jim from the airport. "Oh, man, can you believe this, out of all the cabbies, man, what are the odds of getting the same one?" Catching the look on the man's face, Blair added, "No offense."

"None taken, amigo, but I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen you before."

"What!? What are you talking about, man? You picked me and my friend up from the airport like an hour ago."

"I'm sorry, ese, I've never seen you before."

Okay, Blair was trying to sort his thoughts, New York's a big city. Maybe he just doesn't remember.

"I couldn't have picked you up, anyway," the cabby continued. "I just got on the clock half an hour ago."

So much for that idea.

"Hey, compadre, you never told me where you wanted me to go."

"Um..." Where the hell are you gonna go, Sandburg? "The nearest police station."

The cabby chuckled, "Would you believe that's a new one?"

Jim had walked down about three streets, before he lost the scent of the sage. The scent though diluted by the rain before was still prominent enough to be followed. After finding nothing else but a discarded Chinese food container in the wastebasket, which had a chemical smell on it, he was reduced to playing the role of a human twentieth century bloodhound.

The detective had realized that something was up, you just don't leave. Besides his guide knew better than to take off with no sign. He had lost his lead in front of the incense store. Great, Ellison, just like finding a dog at a dog pound. He walked into the store, and was rewarded with over seventy different fragrances assaulting his senses. He coughed and sniffed, trying to get some fresh air.

He staggered out of the store and gulped down some smog filled breaths of air. The Sentinel turned down his sense of smell as much as he could. It went down enough to allow Jim to breathe in the store. He walked up to the counter, flashing his badge just long enough for the cashier to identify a shield.

"Hi, I'm Detective James Ellison," of the Cascade PD. "Do you keep records of your sales?"

"No, sir, we don't." The girl looked intimidated. Jim automatically focused his hearing on her heartbeat. Intimidated but not scared. She's clean.

"Well, perhaps, you could tell me if you know if anyone has purchased sage recently?" Please, give me something to go on.

"Not on my shift, hold on a second." The girl went off to meet the blonde woman that just come in. Jim turned up his hearing.

"Diane, do you know if anyone has bought sage recently?"

"Sage? Why do you ask?"

"Because there's a cop over there that's askin'." She turned part of the way so Diane could get a glimpse. Diane walked over to meet him.

"Detective. I'm Diane."

"Diane." He said with a gentle regard. A gut feeling told him that he didn't trust this girl. Well, girl wasn't exactly an accurate word. The blonde woman was about Blair's age, in her twenties. Probably younger than Sandburg. When he realized she wasn't going to offer anything else he continued, "Would you have know anyone who might have purchased sage here?"

"Not that I know of. We have a few people, but I don't remember them." The Sentinel didn't need heightened senses to tell she was lying. Ellison's cop instinct was enough.

"Well, I'm sorry to bother you." He left the store and moved beyond the glass windows in the front, then darted under a canopy to keep dry. He turned up his hearing. Let's see what you don't say to cops.

After the cabby, dropped Blair off in front of the 46th precinct. He swung around to the nearest pay phone and picked it up. "Raul, It's Albie, he's coming your way. Upgrade to phase two."

Blair was glad it wasn't raining, if it was raining that would only be one more thing that would get him angry about New York. But quite frankly he didn't care. He just wanted to find Jim and go home! He had barely taken two steps inside when he was thrust up against a wall.

"You have the right to remain silent anything you say can and will be-"

"Wha-? Silent? I didn't do anything man." He felt the officer pull his hands behind his back.

"You have the right to an attorney, if you can not afford one-"

The first cuff closed. "Man, what is your problem? Look, I dunno what your deal is but I haven't done anything." Blair looked around the room and noticed that no one was paying attention to his arrest. Blair debated on whether he should make a scene or not. The second cuff closed and somewhere amidst Blair's protest the man had stopped reading him his rights. Why the hell do you arrest someone for no reason? Mistaken identity? Precaution? Hell, this is New York. Maybe it's just standard procedure.

He tried to writhe out of the man's grasp to no avail. "Look if I can just explain--"

In one fluid motion, despite Blair's squirming, the man grabbed the back of his neck, turned him around, and pushed him out the door. Next, he was promptly ushered out in the midst of contrasting pedestrian traffic. "Where the hell are you taking me?" Blair asked desperately. The cop didn't answer. Instead he shoved him in the cab Blair had arrived in.

Blair's mind raced to make sense of what just happened as well as register the fact that no one seemed to notice or even care about an anthropologist from Cascade. In a giant city, yet they live in their own world. Now someone could do a paper on that was the thought that somewhere formed in the back of his mind. The next thought that followed was I think of the oddest things when I'm in trouble.

He came out of his musing long enough to attempt to realize the depth of trouble he could possibly be in. That was when his mouth took over, without the permission of his brain. He had reached his breaking point. "Look, I don't know what kinda of operation you're running here, but I'm sick and tired of these stupid things. Do you think I could possibly have one boring vacation?" No reaction.

Instead of carefully testing the water, he dove right in. "You obviously know who I am. Now, isn't it about that time where you go and tell me everything about your sick little plan. I'll tell you what, let's just skip all this stuff, and get back to our normal lives--" This, is normal for you Blair, his brain taunted. "--well semi normal for you, because you could be psychotic or just some freak government thing in which case then you all need serious help. Well, if you insist on abducting me, kidnapping, whatever, can you at least leave New York City? This place is just demented. Which, of course, accounts for the people in it." And on he went, just rambling. Lost, kidnapped and using the time as some odd therapy session to express all his frustrations he had acquired since being in the big apple.

It took Jim a while before he realized that Diane wasn't talking to anyone but rather mumbling to herself. He listened to her for a few minutes and was rather disappointed when it looked like all he was going to get out of her were a few curses. After ten minutes, he wondered if he should just give up. However, part of his brain reminded him that Blair was missing and this was the only lead he had.

He heard her footsteps as she moved around the store and he switched the focus of his senses whenever she went to talk to a customer. Zoning wouldn't help Blair. Finally, he heard a door close and the soft click of a telephone being picked up. His heart silently begged for her to say anything, a sliver of information, somewhere to start. He had already forgotten the notion of kidnapping or threatening her. He'd probably end up arrested or she would just shut down, that didn't leave him with many opinions other than to tread delicately. She had been shaken before but also caught off guard, but she had her bearings and was on solid ground and was intelligent that was one of the hardest things. Intelligent crazy people, Cascade and New York were loaded with them.

He listened as she dialed some numbers. He could hear Blair's voice in his head telling him that if he focused he could remember the tones and trace the number. But he couldn't focus. He could never keep focus when friends of his were in trouble, particularly when that friend happened to be Blair Sandburg his guide.

It was hard to hear the voice on the other end. There was background noise and some static. A bad connection? Cellular phone? Was it near somewhere industrial? Jim just didn't know. The conversation didn't help either. There was some use of the terms 'Target' and 'Package'. He also picked up the words stage two, en route, getting prepped. But there had been no mention of his actions nor any leads on his partner.

Jim decided that if they were pushing up the operation, then he was pushing up his methods.

Albie was losing his patience. Did this kid ever shut up? Of course, he reminded himself, It could be worse. Poor Raul, is getting his ear talked off. After a quick glance behind at the current situation, Albie added, Literally. Of course, he couldn't say anything aloud because that would defeat the purpose of this phase. He was almost tempted to speak up, tell the kid that he'd been monitored, traced ever since he passed out thanks to the drugs that the desk clerk had added to the Chinese food. They'd slipped on a bug to trace him and had been following him ever since. Sure it took some strategy to get the taxi to be in the right place at the right time, however, living in a world filed with technology, it wasn't impossible. Albie had a dozen things to say to the disgruntled anthropologist. He wanted to tell him to shut up. And ask him when he found time to breathe.

Raul had started playing with the syringe in his pocket, desperately wishing he could inject this kid and be done with it. But that made the point of taping the conversation utterly pointless. Who needed a tape of silence? Still, he had never heard anyone talk this long. As soon as the brat finished one sentence, another was already out. When he finished one topic, he somehow worked his way into another one. Raul had no idea what the references that Blair worked into his rant were.

Basically, Raul was glad he didn't have to pay attention. He was glad he wasn't a psychologist, one would review the tapes after. It left him free to his own musing of how long the ride was, what time it was, as well as fleeting thoughts like what was Golden, who was Lash, and what was the brat's fetish with incense. He'd probably find out once they returned to the compound. It would clear up any questions, or rather one of the shrinks would. In all the years he'd done this, the target usually put up a fight. In which case, they were given the tranq and that completed the pysch profile. If not, then they usually yelled for help, begged, or cried, but not many actually talked especially when they knew there was no reaction. Raul wondered if the kid was talking just to hear himself or if somehow he was trying to annoy them to their breaking point. Because if the latter was true, then Raul was almost there.

Albie was glad he was only commissioned for reaction and pysch this time. He didn't think that he could continue the charade of the cab driver nor listen to the kid's speech any more. It amazed him how the kid didn't even stop talking when he knew no one was listening. Albie knew Raul was signed on for much more. Raul'd be spending a good deal of time running the other aspects of the program on Sandburg in conjunction with whichever shrink was assigned.

Near the beginning of his lecture, Blair had realized the affect his drawn out speech of annoyance was having on the two men. The driver had only looked back twice, and the 'cop' had a vacant look which meant he was thinking or concentrating. Yeah, on all the ways he's gonna kill you Sandburg The thought then sparked another anecdote and Blair was personally pleased with himself that he was consistent and had also managed to practically get out all his complaints without the mention of Jim's abilities, and even without mentioning Jim. Jim! The flag went up in his head, Oh, god, did these people have him too?

The 'cop' was playing with something in his pocket. That Blair had noticed, using the monologue to draw attention away from himself in an extremely abstract manner while he kept himself alert. What was that thing? He wondered if it was a gun. That wouldn't be good. There's another topic I can broach, the use of guns as a security blanket. Not that I'd get in trouble because I doubt they're listening. This is just like giving a lecture on anthropology, no one listens.

While he was talking about everything and anything, he had surveyed the car in an effort to find a way out of the situation he was currently in. The doors had been rigged with automatic locks in the front, and the door handle had been removed on his side of the car. Basically, he couldn't find a single way to get out of the cab, especially with his hands cuffed behind his back, which was extremely uncomfortable. He tried to concentrate on the route they were taking. It was pretty much back roads, and Blair was pretty sure they had doubled back at least twice, though he really couldn't see why it was necessary to do so.

He really felt helpless. He was supposed to find Jim and yet he wandered into some trouble. He always managed to do that. What was it that attracted all these lunatics? This whole plan was too perfect, or at least it seemed to be. First, someone had to know he was in New York, the cabby was definitely a set up. The rain in Cascade, now how does that get pulled off? Last I checked Mother Nature didn't answer to insane people from the Big Apple.

Jim had tracked Diane to her house, and was across the street listening to see if she was going to call anyone. He had left the store to investigate the Chinese food restaurant. They had confirmed an order of two dinners, and said they had been dropped off, but they couldn't account for the missing dinner and seemed generally confused at the detectives inquiries.

Abandoning that route, he had gone back to her house, apartment rather, debated whether to confront her again. Her roommate had left fifteen minutes before, and Jim made his decision. He quickly walked across the street and approached the building. He used the entry code he had seen many people enter to gain access. He knocked on her door and barged in when she opened it.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Look lady, I want to know where my friend is."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said angrily.

"You were lying at the store today."

"What are you some kind of psycho who stalks women?"

"Wait a second, you're calling me crazy!" Jim knew he was losing his temper and his diplomacy with it, but he really didn't care.

"I'm not the one that just barged into an apartment!"

"I'm not the one that kidnapped a person!" he retorted.

Blair was relieved when they reached their destination, wherever it happened to be. He realized that he was getting deeper and deeper into whatever this was. However, being here might yield some information, which would be good, but these people were like no one Blair had met before. He didn't know what to expect, and that terrified him. It seemed to be meticulously planned, yet a lot of it seemed to depend on the right circumstances.

The cab pulled to a stop. It had taken a few minutes for Blair to realize that he had started expressing his fear verbally. The 'cop' had adopted a slight smile at his obvious fear and that got Blair mad. They were still sitting in the cab when the 'cop' pulled out what he had been fiddling with for the whole trip.

Blair was glad it wasn't a gun, although he wasn't thrilled it was a syringe. Blair was glad he hadn't tried to fight back. Not struggling had saved him from being exposed to whatever was in that syringe earlier, now his mind raced wondering what was in it. He knew it couldn't be poison. It would be pointless to go to all the trouble just to kill him. However, knowing that wasn't extremely reassuring. Blair barely realized he was squirming and backing up from the 'cop'. He had finally shut up, because he realized that it would be pointless to beg. The cabby hadn't turned around to look which meant he knew what was going to happen or didn't want to be witness, or just couldn't care enough to watch.

The syringe was plunged into his arm, and he knew he was losing consciousness. But that wasn't the scary part. The scary part was wondering what he would wake up to.

Jim, I really wish you'd find me now.

It had taken Jim twenty minutes to get his composure back. He had been tempted to pull his gun out on her quite a few times. Instead, he had settled for pacing and spitting out broken sentences. Not only was Diane not telling him any useful information, she also kept pleading ignorance and making bad excuses. In short, he was getting fed up with her stubborn and obviously phony remarks.

He was at his wit's end. He knew how to interrogate a suspect and had never encountered such trouble. It was as if he couldn't intimidate her. That she knew that he wouldn't hurt her. Back to pacing. He stopped and looked out the window for a long time. It was mid afternoon and the sun was high in the sky.

Something in the building across from him kept reflecting the sunlight into his eyes. Jim changed the angle at which he was standing to see what was blinding him. A set of binoculars.

Midge Calver pushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear as she sat in her chair reviewing the tape of the ride in the cab. She was in her office, more or less. It was a place where she could work without being interrupted. She had some cones of incense burning in the background. It gave her the right feeling for this particular target. Contrary to Raul and Albie's disinterest, she found the young man fascinating. He came with an impressive resume even if he didn't fully realize it himself: guide, shaman, and that wasn't even mentioning his police and academic work. It was her interest that had pushed the operation into action. She had assured them she could break down Sandburg's defensives, because if she couldn't it would be pointless to get the Sentinel.

She noticed a lot of references to the police cases, and oddly none to Detective James Ellison. That was a subject which had to be broached carefully. When the cab had arrived at the compound, she was amazed when there was still no mention of the Sentinel. This might be harder than she thought. But then she had time to prepare as well as having the home field advantage. Plus, she didn't have to go through the endurance stage. She wondered how the anthropologist would fare.

Raul walked up to the control center where he could coordinate his actions with the operators surrounding the quad. He had never fancied himself as a sadist and was pretty sure he wasn't. However, he found himself desperately wanting to pay back the curly headed brat for the headache he had acquired on the last leg of the journey.

He actually thought the brat was pretty fortunate as far as drawing coordinators went. He knew Albie was too brutal. That's why this stage had fallen on his shoulders. They needed the kid broken not withdrawn. "Corner operators check in," Raul said through the mike.

"Alpha."

"Beta."

"Gamma."

"Delta."

"This is Epsilon," Raul said. "Start stage one."

After spotting the surveillance, Jim's mind had raced. He fell back on military instinct imagining himself in the opposite role. He needed to be careful. It could be the break he needed. He wondered if they could they hear him? How long had they been there? He still couldn't get a good glance of who was watching him. He finally had figured out a way to get over there without letting on that he knew.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Where is Blair Sandburg?" He spat out the words.

"I haven't seen your partner. I don't even know what he looks like," she replied calmly and smugly.

"I'm sick of this." He pulled out his handcuffs, pushed her into a chair and secured her there with the cuffs. He started heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?" He thought he discovered a hint of fear in her voice. He smiled inwardly knowing that she knew she had lost control of the situation.

"Back to your store," he replied simply.

And out the door he went.

It was cold. That was the first thing Blair noticed. The second thing that Blair noticed was that he seemed to be in the middle of a field that was surrounded on every side by brick buildings. In short, there was nowhere that he could go that wouldn't led him to a brick wall. He was thankful that the handcuffs had been removed and rubbed his wrists appreciatively.

He was momentarily blinded when five lights--at least he thought there were five lights--came on. He closed his eyes to blink away the multi-colored dots. He heard the hum of machinery and wondered what was happening. If Blair could have seen above those lights, he would have seen a dome being erected above them, thus enclosing the area from all six sides.

Thankfully, his brain hadn't shut down and he debated on screaming out to whoever was toying with him. He bit back the impulse, allowing himself some dignity. The next impulse was to just sit down in the middle and meditate was great but he made himself rise. Blair started heading for the nearest building. He walked all around trying to find some entrance and exit, even though he knew it would be pointless.

In the middle of each building was a door that looked very much like the outside of an emergency exit, which meant it was a one way only ticket. Disgusted, he did sit down to mediate. After all, he didn't have many options to choose from.

He had walked around the block in order to avoid going directly across the street. He didn't want to tip off whoever was watching him. Jim also knew he had a clock. If he was too slow, someone might come to free her. In which case, he'd end up back at square one with nothing but an increasing temper.

He went around the back of the building and crept up the fire escape and in a window, thankful there wasn't that much security. He also had a vague idea that this was too easy, but pushed it out of his head with a mental note to be prepared. When he reached the fourth floor, he pulled out his gun and walked silently to the room. He carefully placed his hand on the doorknob and tried to turn it. It was unlocked.

Gun readied, Jim entered. It was empty. That would have been too easy. Looking into each room, he found nothing but some imprints in the rug. Otherwise the place was deserted. Jim walked up to the window and focused into Diane's apartment.

Jim was just in time to see the cabby enter. The cabby dropped his stuff on the ground, then started talking. Jim put more attention on his hearing.

"Having trouble, Diane?"

"No, this is according to plan," she answered sarcastically.

The cabby walked over and undid the handcuffs. "Where'd Ellison go?"

"Back to the store. If he plans on hitting *69 to recover the call, he's going to be disappointed. Are we abandoning this phase?"

"Not exactly just moving it up. Raul's going to double up. We've been sanctioned to pick up our next two targets, then return to the compound."

Jim debated on shooting off two rounds to incapacitate them. Instead, he decided on trailing them. Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer, with any luck you'll end up in the same place. Jim was praying on it.

Midge had taken a break from her research to join Raul in the control center to observe her subject first hand.

"What's the progress?"

"He's meditating. This could be more difficult than I thought. I think he needs verbal stimulant."

"Not yet. He'll be more susceptible after the physical trauma."

"I thought we weren't going to that extreme."

"I'm changing the priority considering his reactions. He can keep this up for a while. If you want to time him for a record, go ahead. However, Albie said Diane is being forced to go ahead of schedule. Which means our timetable is undetermined."

"He could shut down completely, you know."

"Acceptable risk."

"We won't get another chance," he pointed out.

"He'll be fine."

Raul seemed a little uncomfortable at the sudden change. He knew Midge had taken a personal interest in this. He wanted to ask the hierarchy or even Hank, the other shrink. Looking down in the field and seeing the brat still sitting there, a picture perfect example of control, made up his mind.

Grabbing the mike he barked, "Upgrade to stage four. Now."

It must have been Blair's imagination but it seemed to be getting colder. He wasn't thrilled with that idea. It's a perfect night to get hypothermia, his brain teased. He really wished it would shut up. It always had a bad habit of making snide comments that got him in trouble. Up until now he hadn't realized how annoying it really was. He wished he had a watch. The one he had had on had been taken some time between the cab ride and waking up here.

He finally got up, not so much because he wanted to but because he had a sneaking suspicion that he was losing the feeling in his feet. He tried to see what time it was, but looking at the sky, he couldn't get pass the spot lights which were making it an eternal day. He figured it was night. Night would explain the cold.

Blair jumped when he heard the door on the right open. Out stepped a man a few inches taller than him clothed, in all black even a pair of black sunglasses. Behind him another door opened. Both the men were dressed the same, and had the same hairstyle and hair color as well.

Involuntarily, his heart started beating just a tad bit faster, even though they had only moved far enough in the quad to let the door swing shut behind them. Still no one was talking. That was starting to annoy the hell out of him. He realized that they had comm units in their ears and were obviously getting orders.

Blair wanted to run, to push down the fear that he knew was cropping up. All of the sudden his mind came on an idea, What if this isn't a freak conspiracy and it's someone you pissed of and now they're going to kill you?

Somewhere in him was still some stubbornness so he refused to beg since, no matter what the case, it wouldn't help and would only serve to humiliate himself. So he begged silently.

Jim had been trailing them for at least two hours now. They hadn't stopped at all, for anything. He stayed on average about two and a half blocks behind. He had allowed his senses to listen to the car. No music. No talking. Whoever they were they were really in synch. That made him think government.

Ellison looked at his watch again. The minute hand had barely moved, but it seemed like forever since he last looked. Wait, it was. The smaller hand had shifted over a notch.

He really had no sense of where he was going, so he was content to let the other car lead only picking out a few landmarks. Mentally, Jim wondered if this was going to be this easy. Just tail 'em back. Maybe not, after all, where was he now?

I went over a bridge. I'm pretty sure I'm in Long Island. This was getting boring, but if it was his only way to find his Guide, the Sentinel could be patient. He was lost in thought, because the next thing he heard from the car was a telephone ring. Automatically, he dialed up his hearing.

'Alpha two,' he heard Diane say.

'Omega,' it was a woman's voice. 'Making progress with the Package. Proceed on schedule.'

'Understood.'

That was brief. "And it still doesn't help," Jim finished aloud.

Blair thought he had yelled something to the effect of 'just tell me what freak plan you have.' That didn't have any effect. He backed away from one of the men only to have his arms pinned behind his back by the other. That seemed fine with the other one. They didn't seem to have designated who got to punch him. At least they're indifferent.

His stomach was really starting to hurt. The only thing that prevented him from doubling over was the strong arms and their fierce grasp. He realized that this kind of thing was beginning to become too common place. Well, that's depressing, don't you think? his inner voice asked. Blair allowed himself to be drawn into the mental conversation.

He didn't notice the shift in the target for the punching area, so when he felt the solid fist connect with his jaw, unprepared he staggered back, as his neck whipped viciously to the side. The man that had been holding him allowed him to fall unmercifully to the ground. As the second punch found its way to the same mark he was knocked off his feet from the force of it.

Blair realized this was his out and took the opportunity to stay down on the ground. He was hurting too much to try to be brave or defiant. He was relieved when the two men made no effort to move him. He didn't open his eyes for fear that they might realize that he was still conscious. Play possum.

He thanked the gods when it worked.

Midge felt a pang of guilt as she flipped off the speaker. Well, there's one facet of his past explored. She avoided watching the scene that she had spurred into motion. Instead, she decided to help Raul set the voice imprint. She had to decide carefully who to explore next. She had a few candidates in mind. Then later on they could always use the fake phone call from Simon to give him the push over the edge.

Midge realized that none of these would work. All these methods might actually be too impersonal. What choice did she have left then. Amnesia wouldn't work because they was no guarantee that it would be permanent. They had to completely convince him that Jim Ellison was a figment of his imagination. They didn't even need Blair, he was only a method to get to the sentinel. The only way the bond could be broken was if Blair was to pull out those delicate strands by his own free will...then they would have the Sentinel. It was time to see how strong that bond really was.

And in the end, the two needed to be on opposing sides.

Jim had heard the screams of the woman. He started pressing down on the accelerator. He looked at his surroundings. They were somewhere secluded. The house was huge and the last house on the road had been twelve miles back. He'd been following even farther behind since traffic had thinned out and even further now on the secluded road. But what was he going to do? Back off and leave? Try to find another lead on his Guide? That was not an option. He shoved the larger situation out of his head and focused his hearing to push the screams out and focus on the words.

They had stopped. He heard the shuffling of footsteps and wondered if they were dead. Somehow that seemed too easy. If they'd wanted these people dead why not just put a few bullets in them to save time. They had to be alive. Otherwise, there would be an enormous amount of guilt on his part. Hearing up, one, two. . .three. . . . . .

He couldn't find a fourth. There had been four heartbeats. He was sure of it. He counted again. One. Two. Three. Three. Only three.

Wait. He stopped the engine about the equivalent of a block away, and got out to go the rest of the way on foot. Four. It hit him, very faint. He started running towards the house. By the time he had reached the edge of the property. Diane and the cabby had dragged the woman into the car. And were leaving. The forth heartbeat was slowing down.

While running towards the house, he focused his sight through the glass windows and saw a man dangling from a cord. It was wrapped around his head and connected to the chandelier above, a makeshift noose. Without a thought, he sent a bullet ripping through the cord, effectively dropping the man to the ground.

Holstering his gun, he entered the overpriced house. Kneeling next to the victim, he asked, "Can you hear me?"

The man struggled to sit up, as Jim removed the cord from around his neck. "You'll be fine," Jim said and looked out the window at the car that was almost out of view. "Take slow breaths. Try to breathe normally."

Finally, the man had regained enough composure to speak. "Who are you?"

"Detective James Ellison. Do you have any idea who those people were?"

The man stood up and straightened to his full height of six foot. "Brian Sweeny. And yes I know who those people are. It's a long story though." He made a gesture that the detective should follow him into the next room.

Jim allowed his composure to soften. . .a bit. Then sat back and listened, police abilities up. This man was extremely casual for almost being hanged. He either was used to this sort of thing. 'Touche,' his brain teased him. Or he was part of whatever whacked out conspiracy was unfolding. As they walked out of the foyer, Jim looked at the expansiveness of the house. It was amazing really. He never understood the need for extravagance. He was a minimalist, giving the credit to his father and the army on that facet of his personality.

"Before I start, would you care to tell me what you were doing way out here?" Brian asked. "Not that I object to your timing, that is."

"Investigating a kidnapping." Simple answer, short. Non-trusting. Suspicious. Par for the course for Jim Ellison.

"Ah, I understand. So, detective, shall I start at the beginning."

"Please do."

"Okay, I know those people. The woman who just came in here is my wife's cousin. Her name's Diane Gordon. She and her friend, no I don't know his name, work for a specialist company."

"What sort of company?"

Brian exhaled very audibly, showing his discomfort. "How do I explain this? They work for a private company, I don't know the name but I know what they do. They operate out of Canada. It's what you would consider the equivalent of our FBI or CIA. But they don't work for Canada. That's just their main base. They recruit everywhere."

"Recruit?"

"Yeah, private businesses and different government programs fund it. Their purpose, hell, they're kinda of like collectors. They seek out unique people, or ones with special skills, anything that they can use. My wife and I worked for them for a while. She's a leading psychologist. I am too. As soon as she went into retirement, they snatched her. It became a two for one deal." He let out a somber chuckle at that.

"This doesn't make sense. They would just take you and then what?"

"We just disappeared. They didn't erase anything. We just disappeared and stayed gone for a good ten years."

"So what? They gave you a retirement party?" The sarcasm matched his mood, sharp and witless.

"We took off. We were sent out on an assignment and never completed it. I can't believe they kept looking for us. Debbie has to be panicked. My god. I don't want her to go through that again." Brian closed in on himself, no longer talking to the other man, rather voicing his opinions aloud. It unnerved Jim to think how much this man's emotions reminded him of Blair, which subsequently brought him back from his comparison and to the situation at hand.

"Go through what again?" His brain had finally wandered back on the current path.

"The memories."

They'd left. They'd left a long time ago. Didn't know how long, but they were gone. And he was freezing. The quad had been getting viciously colder. Blair explored the possibility that he might be someplace in the northern extremities. That would explain why it was still bright out. Somehow the harsh light contrasted the setting. He'd been lying there for a while too, didn't know how long. As far as he could see, there was no way to keep track of how much time had passed. His mind recalled an odd bit of information about how people kept in isolation sometimes went insane because they lost the way to measure time. They had had no way of knowing how long they were there, like people in prison, the days melted together. Are we quite done with trying to debate whether or not you might go insane? his mind inquired.

You know, Sandburg, you really should get up and walk around. He obeyed basically because he was tired of lying. Getting up required more effort than he had expected. The pain in his jaw had settled down to an ache, but when he attempted to stand, he almost doubled over from the throbbing in his stomach. Instead, he settled for sitting back down.

That was when it struck him, he was starving. He tried to think back to the last time he ate. He had the Chinese, went to sleep, gotten abducted, now it was night. That was at least 24 hours. He could use some food, even the normal greasy food that was served on the side of the highway.

Yes, that would be welcomed. Actually any food would have been welcomed. Didn't these people think enough to fed their prisoners? As if in response to his thought, a door swung open. At first he couldn't see the figure, but as the man stepped out into the light, realization dawned on him, and his heart began to quicken. And out of the past the man came, as if in a bad dream, a surreal world, and the depths of blocked memories from younger years. Ones that were directly connected to the man that stood before him. A man who still terrified him.