Taylor heard the man come into the room, and she nearly gave her hiding place away when he opened fire. But the bullets didn’t make it anywhere near her. She had no idea how many rounds he fired, but he finally stopped, the sound of bullets still clinking on the ground as she heard him walk out.
Slowly, she counted to ten before cautiously pushing the cupboard door open. Seeing the coast was clear, she climbed out and stared in amazement through the combination of plaster and Styrofoam that was softly raining down. The guy had fallen for her ruse – clearly thinking she was hiding in the ceiling.
Part of her wanted to climb back in the cupboard and wait. But when the lab started vibrating with the steady rhythmic booms, the thought was replaced with the desire to prove Mac right. She took a deep breath and stepped back into the lab. She made her way along the corridor, pausing in the doorway to one of the labs, wondering if there was anything she could use as a weapon.
Unfortunately, the actual weapons were in the same room as the giant gun, locked away. And Mac’s office, where his gun was apparently located, was just around the corner – far too risky to attempt to get it. She spotted a microscope on the side, and whilst it wasn’t going to provide her with an option for a fair fight with someone with a gun, she grabbed it from the side, taking a small amount of comfort from the weight of it.
As she continued down the corridor, she was suddenly glad for taking it. In front of her, with a gun pressed to the back of his head, was Mac. Quietly, Taylor hurried over and brought the microscope crashing down on the head of Mac’s assailant.
The man’s gun fell out of his hands as he crumpled to the floor. Mac, without even looking at who his saviour was, grabbed the gun and pointed it at him. "Okay, put your hands where I can see them. Do it!" he ordered. "What’s your name? How many are in your crew? Who’s running this operation?"
The man stared up at him defiantly.
"I don’t think he wants to answer you, Mac," Taylor frowned.
Mac smiled. "That’s alright. We’ll let your dead friend give us the answer." He half turned to Taylor, his eyes never leaving the perp. "Take this."
Taylor stared at the gun. Only an hour ago she would have looked at him and told him she couldn’t use it. Instead, she briefly met his gaze – long enough to give him a resolute nod – and took the gun from him.
"You know how to use that?" the man asked her, his voice thick with an Irish accent.
Taylor loaded the chamber, never taking her eyes off his. "Better than I know how to use a microscope," she told him. "And look how well that one turned out for you."
Slowly, she counted to ten before cautiously pushing the cupboard door open. Seeing the coast was clear, she climbed out and stared in amazement through the combination of plaster and Styrofoam that was softly raining down. The guy had fallen for her ruse – clearly thinking she was hiding in the ceiling.
Part of her wanted to climb back in the cupboard and wait. But when the lab started vibrating with the steady rhythmic booms, the thought was replaced with the desire to prove Mac right. She took a deep breath and stepped back into the lab. She made her way along the corridor, pausing in the doorway to one of the labs, wondering if there was anything she could use as a weapon.
Unfortunately, the actual weapons were in the same room as the giant gun, locked away. And Mac’s office, where his gun was apparently located, was just around the corner – far too risky to attempt to get it. She spotted a microscope on the side, and whilst it wasn’t going to provide her with an option for a fair fight with someone with a gun, she grabbed it from the side, taking a small amount of comfort from the weight of it.
As she continued down the corridor, she was suddenly glad for taking it. In front of her, with a gun pressed to the back of his head, was Mac. Quietly, Taylor hurried over and brought the microscope crashing down on the head of Mac’s assailant.
The man’s gun fell out of his hands as he crumpled to the floor. Mac, without even looking at who his saviour was, grabbed the gun and pointed it at him. "Okay, put your hands where I can see them. Do it!" he ordered. "What’s your name? How many are in your crew? Who’s running this operation?"
The man stared up at him defiantly.
"I don’t think he wants to answer you, Mac," Taylor frowned.
Mac smiled. "That’s alright. We’ll let your dead friend give us the answer." He half turned to Taylor, his eyes never leaving the perp. "Take this."
Taylor stared at the gun. Only an hour ago she would have looked at him and told him she couldn’t use it. Instead, she briefly met his gaze – long enough to give him a resolute nod – and took the gun from him.
"You know how to use that?" the man asked her, his voice thick with an Irish accent.
Taylor loaded the chamber, never taking her eyes off his. "Better than I know how to use a microscope," she told him. "And look how well that one turned out for you."
* * *
Flack was staring at a screen showing the heat signatures inside the building, trying to formulate a plan. Louie was turning out to be little help, instead pacing back and forth.
"Flack!"
He looked up to see Lindsay hurrying towards him. "Lindsay? You shouldn’t be here."
"And if that was Taylor in there?"
Flack sighed and nodded. "We’ve just initiated contact but there’s still no word on the condition of the hostages."
"But you spoke to Danny, right?" Lindsay asked him. "He was the one that called you."
Flack nodded, glancing over at Louie. "He didn’t sound good, Linds. But I know he’s still alive."
Lindsay nodded.
Flack frowned, trying to come up with something comforting to say. Instead, he changed the subject. "I would have thought Mac would be here by now."
"I’ve just come from the lab," she told him. Everyone has been evacuated from the building because of a gas leak. It’s a mess there. He’s probably stuck trying to control the chaos."
"A gas leak?" he repeated.
"Nice toy," an Irish tainted accent burst out of Flack’s radio.
"You like?" Flack asked, his attention suddenly fixed on his radio. "Come outside and I’ll show you how to use it."
"Oh, you’re funny. I like funny people... these guys in here – they’re not so funny."
Flack ignored the expression on Lindsay’s face. "Well, how about we swap. Me for them. I mean, it’s only fair considering it was me who planned the raid this morning and put you all out of business."
"Maybe I’ll think about it."
"Yeah, and if it’s not too much of a strain, why don’t you tell me what you want? Let me have something to think about?" he retorted.
"How do you know that I want something?"
Flack rolled his eyes. "You have hostages. You clearly want something. A pony perhaps?"
A dry laugh echoed through the radio. "You really are funny. Alright how about we start with my guys – the ones you arrested this morning?"
"Let me see what I can do," Flack told him, clipping the radio back to his vest.
"We both know that’s not going to happen," Lindsay told him. "And I think he knows it too."
Flack gave her a reassuring smile. "I told you Linds, I’m getting Danny out of there."
"Flack!"
He looked up to see Lindsay hurrying towards him. "Lindsay? You shouldn’t be here."
"And if that was Taylor in there?"
Flack sighed and nodded. "We’ve just initiated contact but there’s still no word on the condition of the hostages."
"But you spoke to Danny, right?" Lindsay asked him. "He was the one that called you."
Flack nodded, glancing over at Louie. "He didn’t sound good, Linds. But I know he’s still alive."
Lindsay nodded.
Flack frowned, trying to come up with something comforting to say. Instead, he changed the subject. "I would have thought Mac would be here by now."
"I’ve just come from the lab," she told him. Everyone has been evacuated from the building because of a gas leak. It’s a mess there. He’s probably stuck trying to control the chaos."
"A gas leak?" he repeated.
"Nice toy," an Irish tainted accent burst out of Flack’s radio.
"You like?" Flack asked, his attention suddenly fixed on his radio. "Come outside and I’ll show you how to use it."
"Oh, you’re funny. I like funny people... these guys in here – they’re not so funny."
Flack ignored the expression on Lindsay’s face. "Well, how about we swap. Me for them. I mean, it’s only fair considering it was me who planned the raid this morning and put you all out of business."
"Maybe I’ll think about it."
"Yeah, and if it’s not too much of a strain, why don’t you tell me what you want? Let me have something to think about?" he retorted.
"How do you know that I want something?"
Flack rolled his eyes. "You have hostages. You clearly want something. A pony perhaps?"
A dry laugh echoed through the radio. "You really are funny. Alright how about we start with my guys – the ones you arrested this morning?"
"Let me see what I can do," Flack told him, clipping the radio back to his vest.
"We both know that’s not going to happen," Lindsay told him. "And I think he knows it too."
Flack gave her a reassuring smile. "I told you Linds, I’m getting Danny out of there."
* * *
Taylor grabbed a chair and rolled it to the perp. “Sit," she commanded, the gun never leaving him. The man reluctantly did as she said. She grabbed a roll of gaffer tape and tossed it to him. "Now, you start tying those legs of yours to that chair."
Out of the corner of her eye, Mac was darting around the room, gathering various items. She ignored him, taking the tape back of the man and started pulling a strip. Rather viciously, she slammed her hand, and the tape, against his chest. “Spin," she ordered.
He glared up at her.
"Or, you know, I could just shoot you."
With a filthy look, he threw his weight against the chair, starting it spinning. With his legs bound he wasn’t making much progress, so Taylor stepped forward and grabbed the back of the chair pushing it around, the tape quickly bound him in place. She ripped the end and stuck the guns into the waistband of her shorts. She quickly returned her attention to her hostage and taped his mouth closed, before taping his arms to the arms of the chair.
Finally, she stepped back to watch Mac. "He looks confused, Mac."
Mac put the finishing touches to the bomb he had created. "Oh, this very simple," he said, addressing the bound man. “Should you manage to get out of that tape and try to get out of this room, or somebody tries to save you, these lasers will trigger the pipe bomb attached to that canister of hydrogen gas. There’s enough gas in there to kill you and to make the cleaning crew very unhappy."
Taylor stepped back away from the green lasers and turned her head so her hair hid her face to their hostage. "Mac, I don’t particularly care about him, but how safe is that for us?"
"We’ll be fine,” Mac assured her. "Just don’t go too near it."
Taylor nodded, pulling the gun from her waistband and handing it back to him. He took it from her and led her back down the corridor. "What now?" she asked him.
"We need to find Hawkes," he whispered, edging down the corridor, his gun drawn.
Taylor followed, constantly checking over her shoulder when Mac suddenly froze as he rounded a corner. For a second, Taylor thought another bad guy had found them, and then Mac lowered the gun.
"Hawkes? You okay?"
Taylor let out a sigh of relief and threw herself at the other CSI, hugging him tightly.
"I’m fine," Hawkes told them when Taylor stepped back. "What about you two?" he asked, looking at Taylor.
"Actually, I’m thinking today is probably the day I should have listened to Mac for once and not come in here," she said, managing a smile, staring thoughtfully at the elevator in front of them.
"This isn’t why I don’t want you in here," Mac told her.
The smile Hawkes had on his face was quickly replaced with a sombre expression as he pulled something out of his pocket. "Adam’s ID. I took it off one of the guys."
Mac took it off him. "That’s blood."
"Yeah," Hawkes agreed as he watched Taylor nip into a lap and reappear seconds later with some fingerprint powder and a brush. "Yeah, it didn’t come from the guy who had it, either."
With her tongue poking out from the side of her mouth, Taylor gently applied the dust to the elevator button. Holding her breath, she applied the tape and carefully peeled it back.
"Any luck finding that bullet?" Mac asked, oblivious to what Taylor was doing behind him.
Hawkes nodded and held the bullet up.
Taylor joined Mac’s side, a grin plastered on her face, as she held up the print and waved it about. "Look what I’ve got!"
Mac stared at it. "When did you learn to do that?"
"As you said, I spend more time in here than some of your employees. I figured it was about time to step up."
As Mac looked at her, smiling, for the first time, Taylor noted that he actually looked... proud. He took it off her and walked into the lab, Taylor and Hawkes right behind them. He picked up a print Hawkes had lifted earlier and compared it to Taylor’s print. "This is a match to the print off the 50 calibre."
Hawkes, who was keeping an eye out at the door, turned. “So the guy running the operation downstairs is the same guy who killed Gavin Wilder."
The laptop next to Mac bleeped. Taylor hurried over to glance at the result. "Right, it looks like a case to case hit in your database. It’s a match to the slug pulled from Candice Broadbent?" she frowned. "Who is Candice Broadbent?"
"That FBI agent?" Hawkes asked.
Mac nodded. “She was tracking an ex-IRA terrorist living in New York City before she was gunned down a few months ago. Until now, the case was unsolved."
The building suddenly fell silent. Taylor looked up, meeting Mac’s gaze. "They’ve stopped."
Mac frowned. "They’re in."
"What now?" Hawkes asked.
Mac picked up the phone. "Now, I distract them while you two find us some guns."
Taylor shared a look with Hawkes and nodded, the two of them slipping from the room. She followed Hawkes to the ballistics lab and the pair began picking a gun. Then Mac’s voice suddenly rang through the lab.
"We know about Candice Broadbent. FBI agent. Mother of two boys. You shot her point blank, execution style to the head. The night you pulled the trigger, she called me. Agent Broadbent said she had some information to a case I was working on. A case with ties to an ex-IRA agent living in Hell’s Kitchen."
Taylor turned to Hawkes. "How is he doing that?"
"Intercom," he told her, pointing to the phone. He looked at the AK-47 Taylor had picked up. "Do you know how to use that?"
Taylor shook her head. "Nope. I’m hoping you point and shoot."
Hawkes sighed and pulled a smaller automatic gun from the cupboard, handing it over. "Use this one."
Taylor nodded, and followed Hawkes out of the lab, back into the corridor to wait for Mac.
"You may be smart enough to get away with your drugs today, but I promise you I will find you, and after putting you behind bars, I will make it my personal mission to hunt down whoever you were protecting."
There was the sound of a small commotion from the room the Irish druglords were in, and then Mac appeared. Taylor smirked. "Mac, I think you may have just pissed them off."
"Good," he told her.
All of the sudden the sprinklers burst into life – water down everywhere. Taylor let out a gasp at the coldness of it. "What the hell?"
"I think that means they’re leaving," Hawkes told her.
Mac shook his head. "We can’t let the cocaine get out of the building."
Taylor almost laughed. "I saw that drug pile. There’s no way these guys are walking out of the building with that."
"They must have vehicles in the basement." He turned to Hawkes. "Get down there, seal the exits." He then turned to Taylor. "Do you think you’re up for it?"
Taylor looked at him. "This is important to you?"
Mac just nodded.
Taylor pulled the strap over her head and held the gun properly. "Let’s find out."
"There’s only two ways down there. The elevators and the stairs," he told them.
"I’ll take the stairs," Hawkes announced, quickly disappearing.
"I guess that leaves me with the elevator," Taylor muttered, taking steps in that direction.
Mac stopped her, grabbing her shoulder. "Be careful."
Taylor glanced back and gave him a nervous smile. "You too."
She carried on back to the elevator, stopping around the corner. They were busy moving the drugs from the vault to the elevator – there was no way she was going to get it that way. Quickly weighing her options, she turned and ran to the stairs.
Carefully, she opened the door, only just remembering to poke the barrel of the gun in first, before stepping into the dry herself. Seeing there was no one there, she ran up a flight of stairs, pausing for her breath at the top, before carrying on to the elevator on the floor above her.
She reached them and looked around for something to prise them open with, spotting the fire axe. Using her gun, she broke the glass, grabbed the axe, and then stuck the blade between the doors. Throwing her weight into it, she pushed the doors open and looked down the dimly lit shaft.
"Lara Croft, eat your heart out," she muttered to herself, swinging the gun over her shoulder. She pulled off her flip flops, took a deep breath – and leapt forward. Taylor grabbed the wires with an “oomph” as she crashed into them, and then slid down onto the roof of the car.
She crouched there, catching her breath for a moment. "Bruce Willis always made this look so easy," she grumbled as her fingers struggled to pull the hatch open a crack. Making sure there was no one else in there, she hovered over the edge. "Alright, Taylor," she muttered to herself. "It’s time to step up."
She dropped down, wincing as her ankle cracked in the fall. She ignored the pain and poked her head up, the gun back in her hands, aimed in front of her. The men were preoccupied with another load of drugs, and she took the opportunity to lean forward and hit the button for the top floor. The elevator pinged, and Taylor glanced up – all the men had spotted her. She ducked behind the drugs just as they opened fire.
By the time she made it to the top floor, she was surprised to find she wasn’t shaking. She made her way around the drugs, grabbed the handle to the truck they were on, and pulled. She only pulled it out part way and then left it in the middle of the doorway. "You can stay there," she panted, watching the doors open and close on it.
She turned her attention to the stairs, and keeping her gun trained in front of her, slowly limped her way downstairs.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mac was darting around the room, gathering various items. She ignored him, taking the tape back of the man and started pulling a strip. Rather viciously, she slammed her hand, and the tape, against his chest. “Spin," she ordered.
He glared up at her.
"Or, you know, I could just shoot you."
With a filthy look, he threw his weight against the chair, starting it spinning. With his legs bound he wasn’t making much progress, so Taylor stepped forward and grabbed the back of the chair pushing it around, the tape quickly bound him in place. She ripped the end and stuck the guns into the waistband of her shorts. She quickly returned her attention to her hostage and taped his mouth closed, before taping his arms to the arms of the chair.
Finally, she stepped back to watch Mac. "He looks confused, Mac."
Mac put the finishing touches to the bomb he had created. "Oh, this very simple," he said, addressing the bound man. “Should you manage to get out of that tape and try to get out of this room, or somebody tries to save you, these lasers will trigger the pipe bomb attached to that canister of hydrogen gas. There’s enough gas in there to kill you and to make the cleaning crew very unhappy."
Taylor stepped back away from the green lasers and turned her head so her hair hid her face to their hostage. "Mac, I don’t particularly care about him, but how safe is that for us?"
"We’ll be fine,” Mac assured her. "Just don’t go too near it."
Taylor nodded, pulling the gun from her waistband and handing it back to him. He took it from her and led her back down the corridor. "What now?" she asked him.
"We need to find Hawkes," he whispered, edging down the corridor, his gun drawn.
Taylor followed, constantly checking over her shoulder when Mac suddenly froze as he rounded a corner. For a second, Taylor thought another bad guy had found them, and then Mac lowered the gun.
"Hawkes? You okay?"
Taylor let out a sigh of relief and threw herself at the other CSI, hugging him tightly.
"I’m fine," Hawkes told them when Taylor stepped back. "What about you two?" he asked, looking at Taylor.
"Actually, I’m thinking today is probably the day I should have listened to Mac for once and not come in here," she said, managing a smile, staring thoughtfully at the elevator in front of them.
"This isn’t why I don’t want you in here," Mac told her.
The smile Hawkes had on his face was quickly replaced with a sombre expression as he pulled something out of his pocket. "Adam’s ID. I took it off one of the guys."
Mac took it off him. "That’s blood."
"Yeah," Hawkes agreed as he watched Taylor nip into a lap and reappear seconds later with some fingerprint powder and a brush. "Yeah, it didn’t come from the guy who had it, either."
With her tongue poking out from the side of her mouth, Taylor gently applied the dust to the elevator button. Holding her breath, she applied the tape and carefully peeled it back.
"Any luck finding that bullet?" Mac asked, oblivious to what Taylor was doing behind him.
Hawkes nodded and held the bullet up.
Taylor joined Mac’s side, a grin plastered on her face, as she held up the print and waved it about. "Look what I’ve got!"
Mac stared at it. "When did you learn to do that?"
"As you said, I spend more time in here than some of your employees. I figured it was about time to step up."
As Mac looked at her, smiling, for the first time, Taylor noted that he actually looked... proud. He took it off her and walked into the lab, Taylor and Hawkes right behind them. He picked up a print Hawkes had lifted earlier and compared it to Taylor’s print. "This is a match to the print off the 50 calibre."
Hawkes, who was keeping an eye out at the door, turned. “So the guy running the operation downstairs is the same guy who killed Gavin Wilder."
The laptop next to Mac bleeped. Taylor hurried over to glance at the result. "Right, it looks like a case to case hit in your database. It’s a match to the slug pulled from Candice Broadbent?" she frowned. "Who is Candice Broadbent?"
"That FBI agent?" Hawkes asked.
Mac nodded. “She was tracking an ex-IRA terrorist living in New York City before she was gunned down a few months ago. Until now, the case was unsolved."
The building suddenly fell silent. Taylor looked up, meeting Mac’s gaze. "They’ve stopped."
Mac frowned. "They’re in."
"What now?" Hawkes asked.
Mac picked up the phone. "Now, I distract them while you two find us some guns."
Taylor shared a look with Hawkes and nodded, the two of them slipping from the room. She followed Hawkes to the ballistics lab and the pair began picking a gun. Then Mac’s voice suddenly rang through the lab.
"We know about Candice Broadbent. FBI agent. Mother of two boys. You shot her point blank, execution style to the head. The night you pulled the trigger, she called me. Agent Broadbent said she had some information to a case I was working on. A case with ties to an ex-IRA agent living in Hell’s Kitchen."
Taylor turned to Hawkes. "How is he doing that?"
"Intercom," he told her, pointing to the phone. He looked at the AK-47 Taylor had picked up. "Do you know how to use that?"
Taylor shook her head. "Nope. I’m hoping you point and shoot."
Hawkes sighed and pulled a smaller automatic gun from the cupboard, handing it over. "Use this one."
Taylor nodded, and followed Hawkes out of the lab, back into the corridor to wait for Mac.
"You may be smart enough to get away with your drugs today, but I promise you I will find you, and after putting you behind bars, I will make it my personal mission to hunt down whoever you were protecting."
There was the sound of a small commotion from the room the Irish druglords were in, and then Mac appeared. Taylor smirked. "Mac, I think you may have just pissed them off."
"Good," he told her.
All of the sudden the sprinklers burst into life – water down everywhere. Taylor let out a gasp at the coldness of it. "What the hell?"
"I think that means they’re leaving," Hawkes told her.
Mac shook his head. "We can’t let the cocaine get out of the building."
Taylor almost laughed. "I saw that drug pile. There’s no way these guys are walking out of the building with that."
"They must have vehicles in the basement." He turned to Hawkes. "Get down there, seal the exits." He then turned to Taylor. "Do you think you’re up for it?"
Taylor looked at him. "This is important to you?"
Mac just nodded.
Taylor pulled the strap over her head and held the gun properly. "Let’s find out."
"There’s only two ways down there. The elevators and the stairs," he told them.
"I’ll take the stairs," Hawkes announced, quickly disappearing.
"I guess that leaves me with the elevator," Taylor muttered, taking steps in that direction.
Mac stopped her, grabbing her shoulder. "Be careful."
Taylor glanced back and gave him a nervous smile. "You too."
She carried on back to the elevator, stopping around the corner. They were busy moving the drugs from the vault to the elevator – there was no way she was going to get it that way. Quickly weighing her options, she turned and ran to the stairs.
Carefully, she opened the door, only just remembering to poke the barrel of the gun in first, before stepping into the dry herself. Seeing there was no one there, she ran up a flight of stairs, pausing for her breath at the top, before carrying on to the elevator on the floor above her.
She reached them and looked around for something to prise them open with, spotting the fire axe. Using her gun, she broke the glass, grabbed the axe, and then stuck the blade between the doors. Throwing her weight into it, she pushed the doors open and looked down the dimly lit shaft.
"Lara Croft, eat your heart out," she muttered to herself, swinging the gun over her shoulder. She pulled off her flip flops, took a deep breath – and leapt forward. Taylor grabbed the wires with an “oomph” as she crashed into them, and then slid down onto the roof of the car.
She crouched there, catching her breath for a moment. "Bruce Willis always made this look so easy," she grumbled as her fingers struggled to pull the hatch open a crack. Making sure there was no one else in there, she hovered over the edge. "Alright, Taylor," she muttered to herself. "It’s time to step up."
She dropped down, wincing as her ankle cracked in the fall. She ignored the pain and poked her head up, the gun back in her hands, aimed in front of her. The men were preoccupied with another load of drugs, and she took the opportunity to lean forward and hit the button for the top floor. The elevator pinged, and Taylor glanced up – all the men had spotted her. She ducked behind the drugs just as they opened fire.
By the time she made it to the top floor, she was surprised to find she wasn’t shaking. She made her way around the drugs, grabbed the handle to the truck they were on, and pulled. She only pulled it out part way and then left it in the middle of the doorway. "You can stay there," she panted, watching the doors open and close on it.
She turned her attention to the stairs, and keeping her gun trained in front of her, slowly limped her way downstairs.
* * *
"Cop, are ya there?"
Flack pounced on his radio. "Yeah, I’m here," he replied calmly.
"You released my boys?"
Flack glanced at Lindsay before replying. "I spoke to my supervisors. They’re working on it. It’s just gonna take a little more time."
"The thing is, there isn’t any more time left."
Flack turned, not wanting to see the horrified expression on Lindsay’s face. "Now look, I’m trying here, but you’re not giving us much incentive. So how about you put one of my guys on the radio and let me see how he’s doing? If they’re alive and fine, I know that will speed things up."
"How about I give you the sound of his last dying breath?" the voice fired out. "Will that speed things up?"
"WAIT!" Flack cried. The heat image on the screen was dashing towards to figure huddled up in a corner. From the corner of his eye, he saw Louie stop pacing, look up, and then disappear. "IT’S GOING DOWN!" he bellowed at the surrounding officers, running towards the warehouse.
There was organised pandemonium as the officers swarmed into the building, arms trained on the two masked men with guns in front of them.
"Drop the guns!" Flack yelled.
Louie appeared next to him. "Danny’s in the back! You’ve got to get to him!"
"Drop the guns!" Flack repeated, moving around the side of the car. As he did, one of the men moved and the officer next to him opened fire.
"NO!" Adam screamed as the man dropped to the floor.
“STOP FIRING!" Flack bellowed.
Adam moved in front of the man which was still standing. "These are the good guys!" He ripped the mask of him. "They’re cops!"
The officer who had shot the other man swore. Flack ignored him, holstered his weapon and ran over to the fallen officer’s side. "We need a medic in here!" he yelled. "Officer down!" EMS dashed over and Flack moved out of the way. He looked up at Adam. "Where’s Danny?"
"Back that way," Adam told him, staring down at the scene in front of him.
Flack left him, ducking behind the truck, and spotted Danny being helped along by Lindsay. "Danny!"
"Hey Flack."
"How was the honeymoon?" he asked him.
"Better than this," Danny said, half laughing before he had to stop for the pain.
"Jeeze, you’re a mess," Flack told him. “Somebody get EMS over here," he shouted back behind him.
"I’ll take him," Lindsay told Flack, ducking under Danny’s shoulder and bearing the weight to lead him away.
Flack watched them go before he walked back to the fallen officer, just in time to witness the medic shaking his head. "Crap," he muttered softly, catching Adam’s attention.
"He was just a cop," Adam told him, clearly upset.
"Detective Flack!"
Flack didn’t have time to comfort him, instead hurrying over to the officer that had called him – it was his brother. "What have you got, Sean?"
Sean pointed at a car which was parked to one side. "I have no idea," he said, leading Flack around to the trunk. "A bunch of gas masks?"
Flack’s expression grew grim. "Lindsay said there was a gas leak at the Lab. This is just a diversion. They’re going after the drugs."
Sean’s eyes widened.
"We’ve got to get back to the lab," Flack told him, before grabbing his radio and repeating himself.
Flack pounced on his radio. "Yeah, I’m here," he replied calmly.
"You released my boys?"
Flack glanced at Lindsay before replying. "I spoke to my supervisors. They’re working on it. It’s just gonna take a little more time."
"The thing is, there isn’t any more time left."
Flack turned, not wanting to see the horrified expression on Lindsay’s face. "Now look, I’m trying here, but you’re not giving us much incentive. So how about you put one of my guys on the radio and let me see how he’s doing? If they’re alive and fine, I know that will speed things up."
"How about I give you the sound of his last dying breath?" the voice fired out. "Will that speed things up?"
"WAIT!" Flack cried. The heat image on the screen was dashing towards to figure huddled up in a corner. From the corner of his eye, he saw Louie stop pacing, look up, and then disappear. "IT’S GOING DOWN!" he bellowed at the surrounding officers, running towards the warehouse.
There was organised pandemonium as the officers swarmed into the building, arms trained on the two masked men with guns in front of them.
"Drop the guns!" Flack yelled.
Louie appeared next to him. "Danny’s in the back! You’ve got to get to him!"
"Drop the guns!" Flack repeated, moving around the side of the car. As he did, one of the men moved and the officer next to him opened fire.
"NO!" Adam screamed as the man dropped to the floor.
“STOP FIRING!" Flack bellowed.
Adam moved in front of the man which was still standing. "These are the good guys!" He ripped the mask of him. "They’re cops!"
The officer who had shot the other man swore. Flack ignored him, holstered his weapon and ran over to the fallen officer’s side. "We need a medic in here!" he yelled. "Officer down!" EMS dashed over and Flack moved out of the way. He looked up at Adam. "Where’s Danny?"
"Back that way," Adam told him, staring down at the scene in front of him.
Flack left him, ducking behind the truck, and spotted Danny being helped along by Lindsay. "Danny!"
"Hey Flack."
"How was the honeymoon?" he asked him.
"Better than this," Danny said, half laughing before he had to stop for the pain.
"Jeeze, you’re a mess," Flack told him. “Somebody get EMS over here," he shouted back behind him.
"I’ll take him," Lindsay told Flack, ducking under Danny’s shoulder and bearing the weight to lead him away.
Flack watched them go before he walked back to the fallen officer, just in time to witness the medic shaking his head. "Crap," he muttered softly, catching Adam’s attention.
"He was just a cop," Adam told him, clearly upset.
"Detective Flack!"
Flack didn’t have time to comfort him, instead hurrying over to the officer that had called him – it was his brother. "What have you got, Sean?"
Sean pointed at a car which was parked to one side. "I have no idea," he said, leading Flack around to the trunk. "A bunch of gas masks?"
Flack’s expression grew grim. "Lindsay said there was a gas leak at the Lab. This is just a diversion. They’re going after the drugs."
Sean’s eyes widened.
"We’ve got to get back to the lab," Flack told him, before grabbing his radio and repeating himself.
* * *
Taylor was down to the first floor. She popped out into the entrance, just as three firemen appeared from the elevators. She held her gun up at them and shook her head. "Oh, I don’t think so."
The leader grinned at her. "You’re gonna stop us? You and what army?" Suddenly his face fell.
"That would be us!" Flack exclaimed as he stood on one side of Taylor, Hawkes on the other, both with their guns drawn. "Now drop the bags."
The would-be firemen did as he said, and police officers swarmed around Taylor to arrest them.
Taylor lowered her gun as Flack grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "Taylor? What the hell are you doing here?"
Taylor grinned weakly at him. "Helping to save the day."
Flack shook his head, leading her outside. "Where’s Mac?"
"I don’t know," Taylor admitted, suddenly conscious of the fact she looked like a drowned rat, she had no shoes on, and that everyone was staring at them.
From above them came the sound of an almighty explosion, causing half the street to scream in shock. Taylor ducked as glass and debris began raining down around them.
"Move!" Flack bellowed, pushing her across the street in the same direction everyone else was going.
Taylor stopped, resisting him. "Don, Mac’s still in there!"
Flack looked up at the building before looking at Taylor. "Taylor get across the street and wait for me there."
Taylor watched him for all of five seconds, before she ran after him.
"Taylor-" Flack started.
"Mac!" Taylor yelled, running around Flack and on to Mac as he came out of the building, looking completely exhausted. "Are you alright?"
Mac nodded at her.
"Mac!"
Taylor turned, moving out of the way just in time to see Peyton launch herself at him. The two muttered something between them, and then Mac started to walk away. "Mac?" Taylor called after him. "Where are you going?"
Mac stopped and looked back at her. "I think I deserve a vacation," he told her. "I’m going to London." He smiled. "Oh, and Taylor. You made me proud." He then draped his arm over Peyton’s shoulder, pulled her close, and walked away, disappearing into the crowds.
Flack was suddenly standing in front of Taylor, examining her. "What happened in there? Are you alright?"
Taylor looked up at him, staring straight into his deep blue eyes, and without warning, grabbed his face, raining kisses over it. "Don," she said, between the kisses. "I want to get married."
Flack grabbed her hands, pulling them from his face and stepped back. "We are getting married."
Taylor shook her head. "No, I mean, I’m ready. I don’t know want to wait anymore. I don’t know why I wanted to wait at all. So let’s get married. Tomorrow, if we have to, but let’s do it. I love you, and I don’t want something to happen where I’m going to regret not ever getting married to you."
Flack wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to him. "I couldn’t agree more," he muttered into her wet hair.
The leader grinned at her. "You’re gonna stop us? You and what army?" Suddenly his face fell.
"That would be us!" Flack exclaimed as he stood on one side of Taylor, Hawkes on the other, both with their guns drawn. "Now drop the bags."
The would-be firemen did as he said, and police officers swarmed around Taylor to arrest them.
Taylor lowered her gun as Flack grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. "Taylor? What the hell are you doing here?"
Taylor grinned weakly at him. "Helping to save the day."
Flack shook his head, leading her outside. "Where’s Mac?"
"I don’t know," Taylor admitted, suddenly conscious of the fact she looked like a drowned rat, she had no shoes on, and that everyone was staring at them.
From above them came the sound of an almighty explosion, causing half the street to scream in shock. Taylor ducked as glass and debris began raining down around them.
"Move!" Flack bellowed, pushing her across the street in the same direction everyone else was going.
Taylor stopped, resisting him. "Don, Mac’s still in there!"
Flack looked up at the building before looking at Taylor. "Taylor get across the street and wait for me there."
Taylor watched him for all of five seconds, before she ran after him.
"Taylor-" Flack started.
"Mac!" Taylor yelled, running around Flack and on to Mac as he came out of the building, looking completely exhausted. "Are you alright?"
Mac nodded at her.
"Mac!"
Taylor turned, moving out of the way just in time to see Peyton launch herself at him. The two muttered something between them, and then Mac started to walk away. "Mac?" Taylor called after him. "Where are you going?"
Mac stopped and looked back at her. "I think I deserve a vacation," he told her. "I’m going to London." He smiled. "Oh, and Taylor. You made me proud." He then draped his arm over Peyton’s shoulder, pulled her close, and walked away, disappearing into the crowds.
Flack was suddenly standing in front of Taylor, examining her. "What happened in there? Are you alright?"
Taylor looked up at him, staring straight into his deep blue eyes, and without warning, grabbed his face, raining kisses over it. "Don," she said, between the kisses. "I want to get married."
Flack grabbed her hands, pulling them from his face and stepped back. "We are getting married."
Taylor shook her head. "No, I mean, I’m ready. I don’t know want to wait anymore. I don’t know why I wanted to wait at all. So let’s get married. Tomorrow, if we have to, but let’s do it. I love you, and I don’t want something to happen where I’m going to regret not ever getting married to you."
Flack wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to him. "I couldn’t agree more," he muttered into her wet hair.
Chapter 237 | Contents | Chapter 239 |
Originally posted: 11/09/2010