Reasonable doubt

This takes place immediately at the end of the very last episode.

PROLOGUE

The next day, after Trout had promised to buy a new SUV with a CD player, the Silver Star returned to some sort of normality. Things would be quiet for a time while Trout re-established his position in the CIA hierarchy and Matt decided to make the most of the opportunity by going fishing. Benny Ray declined the offer to accompany him, saying he was going to spend some time with his children. Deke, who had arrived that morning, claimed that he " didn't do fish" and Nick too cried off as he was going back to New York to see his family. Margo gave Matt a "don't even ask me" look when he turned to her.

Later that day, she and Benny Ray waved Matt off. Nick had already left and Deke had disappeared a couple of hours previously.

"Peace and quiet, at last," Margo sighed, with meaning.

"You know, Sweetpea, I think I am going to enjoy the next few days," Benny Ray agreed.

WEDNESDAY MORNING

Margo had decided to go shopping; she felt the need to treat herself. Benny Ray had agreed to open up the bar and wait until Margo got back before heading off to see his kids. The door of the bar was unlocked and Benny Ray didn't bother to look round when he heard it open and feet approach him. Debbie and the other bar staff were due to clock on. He did turn when he heard a man clear his throat and speak his name. In front of him were two uniformed police officers. They repeated his name,

"Benny Ray Riddle?" When Benny Ray nodded they continued. "We have here a warrant for your arrest."

The Miranda caution was lost in Benny Ray's indignation which would've become more physical had not both police officers drawn their guns. Within seconds the riot cuffs were on his hands in front of him and he was being led from the Silver Star to the police car outside. As he was put in the back of the car, Debbie arrived on her rollerblades. She protested with the officers that she needed to know what was happening, but they gave her no information and as the car pulled away all she saw was Benny Ray mouthing to her to get Margo. She nodded vehemently and dashed into the bar.

The annoying voice on the cell phone told her time and time again that it had not been possible to connect her call and invited her to try later. She slammed the phone on the bar and wondered what was going on; this was certainly not part of any play she was aware of.

Benny Ray was aware of the arrest process and knew it wasn't being followed when he was taken straight to a detention cell at the back of the station, bypassing booking in at the front desk. He was manhandled into the cell and left. Two hours later he was visited by three men. None wore uniforms, but he could tell by the way they conducted themselves that they knew what they were doing. None of the men spoke, but while two of them covered him with handguns the third stepped into the cell and coming up behind Benny Ray placed a hood over his head. A gun barrel at the small of his back reminded him not to object. He was led from his cell down a ramp and into what he guessed was some sort of truck.

The journey was relatively short and came to an end somewhere where he could hear a metal door being opened to allow them through. He was still hooded as he was led from the truck and walked no more than 50 paces. Eventually the hood was removed and he found himself inside a small room with whitewashed walls and a bucket in the corner. A thin mattress lay on the floor. The three men were with him in the room. It made quite a crowd. The man who had put the hood over his head carried a briefcase. He placed the briefcase on the mattress and opening it took out a small remote control device which he pointed towards the ceiling and clicked. Replacing the remote control he took out a pair of white overalls, the sort house painters wore, and a pair of latex gloves.

The man spoke one word, "Strip."

Once again Benny Ray was encouraged to comply by the two other men whose accuracy appeared unwavering.

"Wanna tell me what's going on here, amigo?" Benny Ray asked calmly.

"No," came the hard reply. "If you don't comply, my companions will do it for you."

"I've been undressing myself since I was three; I think I can manage now." '

He felt somewhat embarrassed as he stood naked in front of the three men, but his embarrassment turned to anger when the third man put on the latex gloves and told him to assume the position against the wall. Benny Ray had suffered indignities at the hands of his enemies before, but he was dammed if he was going to let this go by without a fight. He knew he wouldn't win, but he needed to make a stand. It took all three of them to subdue him and they seemed to take great delight in hurting him just enough, but not too much, that he was unaware of the intimate examination. Before they left him the third man threw him the overalls, picked up his clothes and once more clicked the remote control. He was left alone in the room, cold and angry.

The men returned some hours later. The door opened out so that Benny Ray couldn't take advantage of their entry into the room. The third man placed a tray on the floor and left. On the tray was a metal jug with water and some bread. Room-service is not what it used to be thought Benny Ray grimly. He ate the bread and drank some of the water. It tasted strange, maybe a little stale. He decided not to drink any more for the time being and settled on his mattress trying to make sense of the last few hours.

***

When Margo finally got back to the Silver Star the place was in uproar. Debbie had let in the other staff, but had then closed the bar. There were people queuing outside and Margo had to force her way through to gain entry. Debbie quickly explained about Benny Ray's arrest. Margo, her mind whirling at the news, told Debbie to open the bar and carry on as usual. She would go to the station and find out what was happening.

Having reported to her superiors, Debbie had been told to play along with the team, assist in whatever way she could, gain their confidence and find out what was happening. Her concern for Benny Ray's plight seemed genuine; inside she hoped she never saw the man again.

Margo was back in her car and on the phone to Deke. They arranged to meet at the precinct and it was Margo who had to wait for Deke, as she gambled with red lights and the traffic to arrive before him. Inside the precinct they came up against a blank wall. Margo had become irate when the desk sergeant informed her he had no record of Benny Ray's arrest. Deke gently pushed Margo, spluttering in anger, to one side as he tried to get at the truth.

"My man, our friend was arrested a little over two hours ago by two of this city's finest. Now, he must be here and we'd be obliged if you'd check your records again."

The sight of this giant pierced man had no effect on the weary desk sergeant who repeated what he had told Margo, without even re-checking his records. Margo, by now seething, grabbed Deke's arm and dragged him from the station. On the steps outside they faced each other and Margo suddenly looked weary.

"I can't believe this is happening now, so soon after our troubles with Trout."

To Deke, she suddenly looked fragile. He wanted to take her in his arms, to hug her and reassure her that everything would be all right, but he knew after these last few days that his relationship with the team was still a little unsure. He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"We'll find him Margo, I promise."

She didn't look convinced. Separately they made their way back to the Silver Star.

WEDNESDAY NIGHT

Margo sat at Matt's desk. The room was in darkness and as she contemplated her fears for Benny Ray, she could hear the noise of people enjoying themselves coming from the bar below. As soon as she and Deke had returned to the Silver Star earlier, she had tried to reach Matt on his cell phone. There had been no answer then nor in the hours that followed. Finally in desperation she had asked Deke to find Matt and bring him home. Deke had been reluctant to leave her alone, but the curious mix of anger and helplessness he saw in her eyes when she asked him and which he had seen all day as she paced like a caged panther around the basement, persuaded him that what she and the situation needed was Matt. She gave him full details of Matt's intended itinerary and he was gone, promising a speedy return.

She had thought that by sending Deke to get Matt she would feel as though she was making progress, doing something to get Benny Ray back, but after he had gone the walls of the basement seemed to press in on her and she felt more trapped than ever. Eventually her own demons had chased her from the basement to the office.

Light erupted into her thoughts as Debbie opened the office door.

"Margo, someone must have left this on the bar earlier. It's addressed to Matt. I'm sorry I've only just found it."

It was a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. Margo tore the paper off and without fear opened the box. Inside was a videotape. She turned to Debbie, "Thank you Debbie. Will you be okay locking up?"

It was not really a question more a dismissal and reluctantly Debbie left the room after confirming that she would indeed lock up the bar after they closed.

When the gloom settled again Margo slowly pushed the tape into the machine. The TV came on automatically and the faint light it threw out gave an eerie aspect to her face. She watched unmoving as the silent videotape showed Benny Ray being stripped, beaten and searched. When the tape finished she watched it again and again until she knew every second by heart. Finally tears pricked her eyes and picking up the basketball next to her on the couch she threw it at the TV screen and screamed her frustration. Moving suddenly she locked the office door, unable to cope with ' dear Debbie's' inevitable inquiry at the sounds of destruction.

She spent the night in the office finally getting some sleep, after she had admitted to herself that she could not solve this and that she had no idea why it was happening.

THURSDAY MORNING.

A banging on the front door eventually stirred Margo from her slumbers and still befuddled from lack of sleep, she could not understand why the door to the office was locked. A Fed Ex employee waited at the front door. He held a parcel which needed to be signed for. The brown paper-wrapped box was exactly the same size as the parcel from the previous evening and she practically tore the man's hand off as soon as she had signed. She dashed back to the office and sitting once again at Matt's desk she looked up to see the broken screen of the television and grimaced at her own lack of control.

She opened the parcel in much the same way as the previous night. This time there was an audio tape inside. She paused slightly before putting the tape in the machine, suddenly frightened by what she would hear. Her fears were not unfounded. What she heard on the tape was almost unbearable. Someone, a man, was being tortured. In her mind's eye, Margo envisaged the victim as Benny Ray. This time she shed no tears and her anger became icy determination. She was not to know that the victim was not who she thought it was.

Having opened the bar and ensured that all the staff knew she was not to be disturbed, she made her way to the basement. She was grateful at least that Debbie was not working today; she would not have to put up with the young woman's constant look of concern.

With the technology at her fingertips in the basement, Margo played both tapes to try and extract the slightest piece of information that would help. Both tapes were mass produced and bought at any store. Neither had fingerprints on and after carefully checking the wrapping paper and the boxes she could identify only two other sets of fingerprints other than her own. Both parcels had been handled by others, there were lots of smudges and partials, but the only decent prints she could lift that gave her any chance at a proper identification were those two sets. She soon omitted these from her consideration when they turned out to be Debbie's and those of a Fed EX employee called Melvyn Stopworth.

She hoped that the audio tape would reveal some extraneous sound that would give her a clue. Forcing herself to listen to the tape over and over again, she found nothing and merely gave herself a headache that even Darvil couldn't clear. Intermittently throughout the day she had tried to reach Deke and Matt on their cell phones. She failed each time and as the day wore on she felt more and more isolated and eventually picked up the phone and called Nick.

"Margo, I just can't. My dad's in hospital and I can't leave my mum. The doctors think he'll be okay, but this is his second heart attack and no one's placing any bets."

"It's all right, Nick. You stay where you are. Matt and Deke will be back soon and we'll find him."

"Keep me informed, okay?" Nick asked anxiously, his loyalties torn.

"Of course, Nick," Margo reassured him.

As she put down the phone, her hand shook and forcing her fingers into a fist she hit the punch bag for all she was worth. Slumping against the bag she threw her arms around it and hugged. It didn't hug back.

THURSDAY NIGHT.

Admitting to herself that she had made no progress, Margo suddenly found that she was hungry and in need of human companionship. She made her way slowly up the stairs and into the bar. Once again the place was full, reminding her that whatever her problems were, life went on regardless. She made herself a banana smoothie. Although she was hungry she didn't think she could eat anything. As she stood at the bar drinking the concoction that Deke had first introduced her to, she spotted a brown paper parcel on a shelf underneath. Her pulse suddenly racing, she picked up the parcel and asked when it had been left. David, in charge that day, told her that he had found it on the bar about 10 minutes earlier. No one had seen who had left it, but he assumed that someone would claim it before the end of the evening. The parcel had no name on it but Margo knew it was for her.

Picking up her glass and the parcel she told David that she would keep the parcel in the office if anyone came to claim it. Slowly she walked to the office. As she closed the door behind her and turned on the lights she dreaded opening the box. She forced herself to do it. Inside she found a bottle of clear liquid, much like you would find in a hospital. There was a printed label on the bottle which read,

"Deadly Nightshade
Patient's name: B R Riddle
Dosage: three-times daily for the next 72 hours."

The label was dated and timed - Wednesday 10.00am. 36 hours had passed since that date and time. 36 hours were left. Margo picked up the phone and called Nick again.

"Deadly Nightshade is lethal stuff, Margo. It's one of a range of new designer drugs that have recently hit the streets. It's aimed at the new young things, the weekend crowd. Word has it that occasional use once or twice a week end gives you an incredible high, but at the rate it says there, you're talking serious trouble."

"How serious, Nick?" Margo asked tiredly.

There was a pause before Nick answered. "It's not called Deadly Nightshade for nothing, Margo. At those doses and within that time frame, he'd be dead or dependent. Dead would be better."

Margo closed her eyes and thought for a moment that she was going to lose control again. She held on, but could not reply to Nick. A light flashed on the phone, a second call was coming through.

"Nick, I have to go, another call is coming through. It's probably Matt. I'll call you back."

Quickly disconnecting Nick, Margo punched the button for the second line expecting to hear Matt's comforting tones. She was brought up short when the voice she heard was very different.

"You want him back, you give us Trout. You know you only have thirty six hours, don't delay or he'll be dead."

The phone went dead before Margo could reply. She sat back in Matt's big chair bringing up her knees to her chest. She rocked slightly backwards and forwards. She finally had an answer to what this was all about. It didn't help at all. Before she had faced ignorance, now she faced a choice, Benny Ray or Trout.

The trouble with Jodie had caused Margo to have serious doubts about Trout. After Jodie's death, Trout's explanations had seemed more than plausible, but now those doubts weighed heavily against the older man in the decision she had to make. Her choice was stark; Benny Ray or Trout. Who was she willing to sacrifice? Trout was their paymaster, without him there would be no job that allowed her to righteously kick ass all over the globe and help people. But Benny Ray was..... well what was he? The best sniper she knew, the only man you would want beside you when you needed to get down and dirty on a mission, a good friend, like a brother? All of the above and maybe more.

She had never really examined too closely her relationship with the quiet Southern man, merely taking his presence for granted. Now she had to. Benny Ray, after an initial misunderstanding had never given her reason to doubt his integrity and loyalty, but Trout? All Jodie's arguments echoed in her mind and now Jodie was dead, which was convenient for Trout. She sat back in Matt's chair and let out her breath slowly calming her thoughts and as if a curtain had lifted, her decision was made. It was as simple as that. She couldn't let Benny Ray die or worse. Trout at the end of the day was expendable. She could always get another job.

Hesitantly her hand reached once again for the phone and she dialled the familiar Washington number. Her voice was calm and steady as she explained to Trout what had happened to Benny Ray and the fact that she couldn't contact Matt. She neglected to tell Trout about the phone call. Ending the call Margo felt no guilt at what she planned to do.

FRIDAY MORNING.

Trout arrived early and he wasn't alone. Margo immediately recognised Sergeant Eugene NMI Hackin, the young sniper she had last seen in Cuba. Sergeant Hackin quickly explained that he had been with Trout when Margo had called last night. To avoid the young man revealing any more, Trout took up the explanation by saying that Sergeant Hackin had agreed to help him in a small job. Trout gave Margo a knowing look.

"As Sergeant Hackin was on his way to Los Alamitos to undertake some training with the reserve Special Forces' detachments there, I thought it would be best if we travelled together."

Margo accepted the explanation without question. It was of little importance to her anyway. If Hackin stayed around it would make her job more difficult, but he wasn't. She happily saw him off the property and turned to Trout.

"Xavier, I need your help."

After Margo had shown Trout the tapes and the bottle he started making his own inquiries. The day wore on and Margo became more and more nervous at what she knew she would have to do. Her attempts to call Matt became more frequent, but with no greater success. Trout too, failed to discover anything of any help. The two sat in the basement of the Silver Star and looked at each other, waiting for the phone to ring. When it did they both started, but Margo moved quicker and had the receiver in her hand first. She recognised the voice at the other end.

"Do you agree?"

Margo's voice wavered slightly as she replied, "Yes."

The phone went dead.

"Who was it?" Trout asked, "Matt?"

Margo took a deep breath. "There is one thing I haven't told you. Last night before I rang you I got another call, from the kidnappers. They demanded a ransom. They want to swap Benny Ray."

As she spoke Margo walked around the room, apparently without reason. When Trout asked her who they wanted to swap for Benny Ray, she was positioned behind the older man and as he turned to look at her she pulled out her Glock from the small of her back and pointed it at Trout.

"I'm sorry Xavier, they want you."

His jaw dropped open and he stared at Margo.

"You can't be serious?" He asked, incredulous.

"Oh, Xavier, I'm deadly serious."

Benny Ray was bored. He had been stuck in that room with no company for over two days. The occasional visit of his captors took only a few seconds each time and the fare was always the same, bread and water. The water continued to have a strange taste, but was drinkable. Each time he was visited he tried to engage his captors in conversation, but to no avail. To pass the time he did press-ups and sit-ups and any combination of the same. All that did was make him more hungry and thirsty and the bread and water he was left hardly filled the gap.

The last time he had been fed and watered only one of his captors had visited him. Maybe they were getting sloppy, he thought. Having finished his fifty sit-ups he drank down the water from the metal jug. It was now empty and once again Benny Ray noticed the strange taste. By his reckoning he should be due another visit shortly and so he settled down on the mattress as if asleep. An hour later the door opened and through squinted eyelids he saw one pair of shoes. As the man bent down to pick up the tray Benny Ray kicked out catching him squarely in the groin. Even though Benny Ray was barefoot the blow hurt and the man went down. Grabbing up the metal jug, Benny Ray made short work of his opponent, with a blow to the back of the head that dented the jug. Relieving the man of his Sig, Benny Ray checked carefully to see if the coast was clear. It seemed as though he and his captor were the only ones in the building.

As he stepped outside, Benny Ray felt the cold bite of a Los Angeles night and tried to get his bearings. He didn't immediately recognise his surroundings and as he moved cautiously off towards lights he could see up ahead, he suddenly felt nauseous. His vision blurred and the night seemed to spin around him. Dropping to one knee he felt hot and had difficulty catching his breath. He couldn't understand why he was feeling so bad. Resting for a few moments, he seemed to gather his strength and turned once again towards the lights. They blurred, but he stood and made his way towards them. Finally, reaching the main road he looked around and thought he recognised where he was; Inglewood. He leant against the wall of a building and thought to himself out of the frying-pan and into the fire. Any hopes he had of finding help were dashed. Inglewood was almost a no-go area at the best of times and on a Saturday night you could bet there wouldn't be a single cop anywhere in sight.

They were two major gangs in LA, the Bloods and the Crips. Both had sets in Inglewood. Racking his brain, Benny Ray remembered a TV programme he'd seen a couple of weeks previously which had explained the rivalry between the Bloods' Inglewood Families Set and the Crips' Inglewood Village Set. All-out war had erupted between the two gangs earlier that year and while the main protagonists had now been killed or arrested, trouble rumbled on. The thought of that television programme engaged him completely and he had to concentrate hard to remember what he was doing standing in the middle of Inglewood barefoot, in white overalls. He felt sick again and slid down the wall to sit on his haunches. In his drugged state he managed to concentrate on a single thought; find a phone, get help.

He tried knocking on doors where people were obviously at home. No one answered. No one in that neighbourhood was going to answer the door in the middle of the night. They were more likely to shoot first and then open the door. Still he tried, but after several failed attempts he gave up and decided he would have to walk himself out of trouble. There were times when his feet seemed to have forgotten that walking meant putting one foot in front of the other and he continually had to remind himself that he was heading for Hermosa Beach. The feeling of sickness haunted him constantly and he knew that if he got into trouble he would have great difficulty getting himself out of it.

His luck ran out after 10 blocks. He could see a park in the distance, but knew in his weakened state he couldn't out run the group of black men who had appeared behind him. They all wore red jackets or bandanas and as they approached him one of them shouted out.

"It's ain't no crab, cuz."

Benny Ray put up his hands to show he was unarmed and no threat. He didn't believe for a moment that this would help, but the longer he could keep walking and get closer to the park, the more chance he had of getting away. The group of young men continued to advance and Benny Ray continued to walk backwards. One young man detached himself from the group. He carried a knife. He was proud to be a Blood that night. At 15 he was old to be initiated into the gang, but he had moved to LA with his family only three months ago and had come a long way in that short time. Tonight he would perform his final act of loyalty and his brothers had decided that the white man in front of them would be his task. The man would die and the blood would be on his hands.

The group spread out and surrounded Benny Ray. He knew the time had come to stand and fight. The boy and his knife normally would present no problems to the sniper, but he wasn't at his best and he couldn't bring himself to contemplate killing the boy unless he absolutely had to.

The boy circled around, slashing with the knife. He intended to play with the white man for a while, to put on a show for his brothers.

About to launch an attack that he hoped would disable the young man without killing him, Benny Ray was suddenly struck by another bout of nausea this time accompanied by cramps that almost doubled him over. The boy took advantage of his weakness, stepped in and slashed him down the arm. The pain cleared Benny Ray's head and he knew he needed to end this quickly. Faking another bout, he went down on one knee and as the boy moved in he grabbed his arm, twisted it up and around behind his back, relieved the boy of the knife and quickly pressed the knife to the boy's neck warning the gang members to back off. Having made ground on the gang, who fell back at this unexpected turn of events, Benny Ray decided he was close enough to the park to make a run for it. He pushed the boy to the ground and drew the Sig.

"There are eight of you and more than enough bullets here for me to kill each and every one of you. Back off now or I start shooting."

He made more ground towards the park before the gang decided the insult was greater than the danger. The chase was short and once Benny Ray reached the park he knew there was only one outcome. The gang passed within feet of him twice, but didn't discover his hiding place. As the sun struggled upwards for the start of another day the gang gave up and moved on. Benny Ray came out of hiding and staggered half-a-dozen paces to the path where he collapsed, unconscious.

SATURDAY MORNING.

Margo had tied Trout tightly, but not painfully, to a chair in the basement. Eventually she had gagged him as well. He had tried non-stop to talk her out of the action she was proposing to take. Her resolve had weakened on more than one occasion and in the end all she could do was stop him talking.

As day broke she took from the armaments cupboard her own personal handgun that the team had bought for her on her last birthday. She also took a Glock 30, deciding that she might need the extra stopping power. Trout, his eyes wide, was manoeuvred into the trunk of Margo's Jaguar. It was a tight fit, the car was not designed for the purpose, but it would do. A fax had arrived an hour ago giving specific directions to a location several miles away. Margo arrived early and dragging Trout from the trunk waited as the sun rose in the sky.

Eventually another car approached. Two men got out and a third was unceremoniously pulled from the back seat. His hands were tied behind him and he was hooded. She recognised the clothes that Benny Ray had been wearing the morning he had been taken.

"Send him over," she demanded of the two men.

They gave the man they held a shove and he staggered towards Margo. She pressed the barrel of the Glock against Trout's spine and pushed him forward. He shook his head but she whispered into his ear.

"Do it or I'll shoot you now."

Trout walked forward and the two men crossed paths. Trout was grabbed and thrown onto the back seat of the other car. Margo ran the few paces to Benny Ray and pulled the hood from his head. It wasn't Benny Ray. The man in front of her was gagged like Trout and she stared at him in horror. The other car was already pulling away when it swung round in an arc and drove straight at Margo and the stranger. Without stopping, shots rang out and the strange man fell dead at Margo's feet.

Margo was dumb founded. She had betrayed Trout to save Benny Ray and now she had nothing; no Trout, no Benny Ray, nothing. She stood and stared at the body in front of her. Her cell phone rang and almost unconsciously she answered it.

"Margo, where are you? I'm on my way to the Silver Star. Deke found me. What's happening? Margo, talk to me."

"I don't know," she whispered into the phone and then he heard her cry.

When the crying stopped he managed to get an address from her and within minutes Matt and Deke were with her. She had recovered enough of her composure to explain what she had done and what had happened. Putting the body into the back of Deke's car, Matt drove Margo's Jaguar back to the Silver Star, while Deke followed. On the short journey Matt tried to reassure Margo that things would be all right. She didn't believe him.

Later back in the basement of the Silver Star Matt and Deke went over the facts again. Margo was forced to relive the last couple of days and her decision to swap Trout. It was a small punishment for what she had done. Matt considered everything and came to a decision.

"Okay we live with what's happened and we work with it. We need to get Trout back," he announced.

"What about Benny Ray?" Margo tentatively asked.

Matt turned to her. He knew this would be difficult.

"Logically if they wanted to make an exchange they could've done and still killed Benny Ray. The fact that they didn't suggests at worse he is already dead, at best they don't have him."

The silence stretched on and Margo gripped the sides of the high table until her knuckles went white.

Deke tried to reassure her. "You know Benny Ray, he probably gave these guys the slip."

"Then why isn't he here?" She demanded to know.

They both knew the answer.

"Which leads us to our next problem," Matt continued. "We need information about who we're dealing with and why anyone would go to these lengths to get Trout and we need more help."

Margo explained that Nick couldn't leave his father.

"I don't like going into something like this without a sniper to back me up," Matt stated.

Margo's head came up and she reached for Trout's cell phone. She had relieved him of it when she had tied him up. Searching through the phone book she found the name she was looking for. It was answered within three rings.

"Sergeant Hackin, I need your help."

She turned to Matt, "One sniper, as requested."

Within thirty minutes Benny Ray had been found by the first patrol car that risked entering Inglewood. Loading what they thought was another drunk into the back of the vehicle they were soon back at the station. The cut on his arm was bandaged and he was checked by the medic before being pronounced safe to lock-up. Unconscious and unaware Benny Ray Riddle became another D and D statistic and another body in the drunk-tank.

SATURDAY LUNCHTIME.

Margo wasn't convinced. As she sat in front of her computer screen she argued fiercely with Deke in a whispered voice.

"We should be looking for Benny Ray, not going after Trout."

Deke tried to be the voice of reason. "Beautiful lady, we don't even know where to start. If he's dead then we're looking for a body. If he's alive and he hasn't made it back here then he either can't or doesn't want to. Either way how are we going to find him?" He pressed on before Margo could interrupt. "We could go to the police, but you know they won't help and if we give them the body we'll be stuck in red tape for ever."

They were waiting for the results of the fingerprint scan of the dead man. A thorough search of the body had revealed no clues other than that he was wearing a shirt from a shop in Miami. As a match was found they discovered that the dead man was Homer Woods, a small time criminal with a rap sheet as long as your arm. The late Mr Woods had been a card carrying, but low level member of the Mob. He hailed from Miami but had recently relocated to LA. Using Trout's security status they were able to secure his address from his Parole Officer even though it was a weekend.

Leaving instructions at the bar in case Sergeant Hackin arrived before they got back, the three of them set out to visit Woods' apartment. It was a dingy place, one room in a boarding house in an area where the smell of bad cooking and human excrement vied to overcome the senses. The manager of the boarding house had no difficulty letting them into the dead man's room and was even happier to explain that unlike the rest of her guests, Mr Woods was a decent man who always paid his rent on time and never made too much noise. Deke persuaded the manager not to accompany them on the search of the room only by physically barring her way. The search was undertaken quickly, out of necessity. The room was small and the late Mr Woods had very few possessions. Nothing in the room gave them any more information.

As they were leaving the boarding house, the manager once again wanted to have her say.

"Is Mr Woods in trouble? Such a nice man."

"Why would you think he was in trouble?" asked Deke, strangely alert to the fact that this woman might have more information than the room had revealed.

Matt and Margo had gone ahead to Matt's car. They waited patiently while Deke continued to talk to the woman. Eventually as he clambered into the back of Matt's car and sat there incongruously like the proverbial sore thumb, he smiled and held up a business card.

"Our friend had friends in high places. The manager was told that if Woods was ever in trouble, she should call the name on this card."

Matt, who was already driving away, took the bait.

"Don't tell me it's Janet Reno, because I won't believe you, Deke," he smiled.

"Better than that, it's a law firm right here in LA. Does the name Grainger, Bowdler Dixey mean anything to you?"

Both Matt and Margo shook their heads.

"Well then children, sit back and listen to Uncle Deke."

The black man explained that Grainger, Bowdler, Dixey were a mid-level law firm who acted as a front for the Mob.

"That explains why Mr Woods had one of their business cards, but what it doesn't explain is what the Mob want with Trout," Matt considered out loud.

Deke settled back in the car as much as he could given the space allowed and continued to address the two in front of him as though they were students at the feet of a great master.

"Times are hard. For everyone. Including the Mob. Recently they decided to diversify. The Mob has become sub-contractors. Think about it," he explained, as Margo looked at him in disbelief. "They have the most experience in every area of criminal activity. You want someone whacked, who better than a mob assassin. You want someone lifted; they have been doing it for years. It's become a very lucrative part of their operations and they have been using law firms like Grainger, Bowdler, Dixey to set up the deals, as go-betweens."

As they sped along the final few roads before the Silver Star, Matt took up the conversation.

"Okay so the pieces of the puzzle are starting to fit, but that doesn't explain what they want with Trout."

"Revenge," suggested Margo.

"Information," threw in Deke.

"Money," Said Matt, as he drew up outside the Silver Star.

Sergeant Hackin was waiting outside. He opened the door of the car and helped Margo out. Deke raised an eyebrow and looked at Matt who smiled. After introductions had been made between Deke and Sergeant Hackin, the four made their way into the basement. Swiftly bringing Sergeant Hackin up to speed on what was happening, they continued their conversation. They stood around the high table.

"If it's revenge or information then whoever has him has already killed him or is extracting what they want now. If it's money why haven't we had a ransom demand?" Matt posed to the others.

Hesitantly Sergeant Hackin contributed. "Mr Trout doesn't earn that much so why would they kidnap him for money?"

Margo smiled at the use of Trout's title and at the thought that anyone would kidnap a civil servant for their wages. Trout had money, but not the sort you received in a pay packet at the end of every month.

"That's it!" She declared her eyes aglow. "The slush fund."

Matt stared at her and nodded. Deke picked up the phone and dialled. As his call was answered he turned his back on the rest of the team and walked away. The call was long and mysterious, but when he came back he was smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

"I've just spoken to Patty. Mrs Trout," he explained for Sergeant Hackin." She had a ransom demand an hour ago. Someone wants $11 million."

Matt banged the top of the table with his fist.

"It's obvious. Whoever the kidnapper is he knows about the slush fund and also knows the only way to access it is through Trout. If he knows that much about Trout he knows about us and if Trout is kidnapped who is going to go looking for him?"

"We are," replied Margo.

"Right. But the kidnapper isn't going to want that, so he has to figure a way to get Trout and take us out of the equation."

"Benny Ray!" exclaimed Margo. She saw where Matt was going with all this now. "So if we're preoccupied looking for Benny Ray then we're not going to be on the ball for Trout's kidnapping and at the very least we're one man down."

Matt nodded. "Plus the kidnapper has to get close enough to snatch Trout. On the few occasions when he travels without security chances are he's coming to see us. If Benny Ray's taken we're going to tell Trout and he's going to come to us. Okay he might have security, but it's a chance the kidnapper is willing to take. Fortunately for us Sergeant Hackin here accompanied Trout on his trip otherwise he might have been taken sooner."

Sergeant Hackin did not seem to be convinced. "Sir, that's an awful lot of guesswork and an awful lot of planning."

"But," boomed Deke in his ear making him jump. "It's an awful lot of money."

Having seemingly made a breakthrough, the team set to work with renewed energy. Margo hit the computer to find out everything she could about Grainger, Bowdler, and Dixey. Matt and Deke spoke again with Patty to let her know what they were thinking and to find out if the kidnappers had been in touch again. Sergeant Hackin unpacked his Bergen and began to assemble the pieces of his Remington M40A1 sniper rifle.

"Ma'am," he asked Margo," is it okay if I clean my weapon?"

He reminded her of Benny Ray so much, standing there with the pieces of his rifle in his hand, that all she could do was swallow and nod.

SATURDAY NIGHT.

While they believed they had most of the background they only had one active lead; the lawyer named on the business card. They picked him up as he left his squash club a little after 7 o'clock. It was a perfect snatch and before the bemused lawyer knew what was happening, he was bundled into the back of a rented SUV and driven away. Blindfolded and with his hands tied, the lawyer was pushed roughly to the ground. His blindfold was taken off and he found himself sitting on stony ground out in the middle of nowhere. Two men wearing masks held guns on him. A third, a woman by the looks of things, stood behind him. He waited for one of them to speak. No one did, but suddenly the woman bent down and with her gun indicated the red dot which had appeared in the centre of his chest.

She spoke. "Approximately five hundred yards away there is a man with a rifle pointed at your chest. Please do not think that at that distance he will miss you. The rifle is a Remington M40A. It has a maximum effective range of 1000 yards and shoots a bullet with a muzzle velocity of 2550 ft per second. At this range you will be dead before you hear the sound of the shot. The man with the rifle is a very, very good shot and you are a very easy target."

As Margo let that sink in, the red dot of Sergeant Hackin's laser sight moved slowly across the victim's body. It settled on his groin. Automatically the man put his hands in place to protect himself. It was a futile action.

"You are Reginald James, Attorney at law and junior partner of Grainger, Bowdler, Dixey. Mr James, if you wish to remain intact you will tell us everything we want to know."

The lawyer was convinced and though he knew little he did have an address of a now closed petrol station in Inglewood. Securing the lawyer in the back of the SUV they made their way cautiously to the address and parked a block away having collected Sergeant Hackin from his vantage point.

They approached the building with caution, but it became obvious that the place was empty. Gaining entry, they soon located the cell where Benny Ray had been kept. There was blood on the floor and they feared the worse. A more extensive search revealed a second bottle much like the one that Margo had received with the label which read Ketamine Hydrochloride.

"Isn't that a veterinarian drug?" Asked Matt.

"It is," explained Margo. "But it's also used on humans either as a surgical anaesthetic or by dance club devotees and ravers. Its street name is K and it's closely linked to PCP, producing much the same hallucinogenic effects."

"Do you think they used it on Benny Ray?" Matt queried.

"It would be one way to keep him docile," Margo answered.

"Normally it's injected, but it can be given in liquid form, although a higher dose is needed and the effects take longer to show themselves."

She paused and then continued. "What I can't understand is why they would give him this and Deadly Nightshade. One or other, but not both. It doesn't make sense. "

Matt could hear the pain in her voice and knew she felt responsible for whatever was happening to his second in command. He had no answer for her.

Further examination revealed nothing new and they made their way back to the Silver Star feeling as though they had achieved little. Once again they set to their allotted tasks; Margo was accessing Public Records to find out who owned the petrol station, Matt and Deke spoke again to Patty. Sergeant Hackin made coffee for everybody, but ensured that Margo got her mug first. Having delivered coffee to Matt and Deke, he returned to Margo and asked if there was anything else he could get her. Looking up at him to say no, Margo could see in his eyes the puppy dog look that always preceded an infatuation. The last thing she wanted now was Sergeant Hackin falling in love with her. She was unnecessarily harsh as she replied to him. A few minutes later she hit pay dirt.

"Guys, I have something. The petrol station is owned by Grainger, Bowdler, Dixey."

"Convenient," muttered Deke. "Do they own anything else?"

Margo smiled. "They own one other building here in LA and that is their offices on Wilshire Boulevard. I say we go pay them a visit."

"That gets my vote," stated Deke.

They went back out to the SUV and searched Reggie James. The trussed up lawyer tried to squirm, but he couldn't prevent them from finding his keys. Patting him on the cheek, Deke was polite enough to say thank you before they once more shut the doors of the vehicle and left the lawyer in the dark.

Deke reckoned that the only way in was through the front door. The only problem with that was the security guard on duty.

"No problem," laughed Deke as he tore Margo's top and roughly pulled her hair from its pony tail. Opening the trunk of his own car, which they had bought as well as the SUV, he squeezed some oil onto his fingers and wiped it over Margo's face.

"This had better be good for the complexion, Deke, or you're paying for a facial."

"You still look too beautiful, but it will have to do," replied Deke.

"Charmer," retorted Margo, as she tried to look distressed.

Sergeant Hackin had been ready to jump to her aid when Deke had torn her shirt, but Matt had placed a restraining hand on his arm and advised him to be patient.

Up ahead Margo had started weaving across the pavement and they could hear her sobs and cries from where they sat. On reaching the lawyer's office she banged on the glass door and for extra dramatic effect slid slowly to the ground as if she had fainted. The security guard was out of his seat unlocking the door quicker than they had hoped for. As he bent down over Margo she opened her eyes and sprayed him in the face with Mace. He fell to his knees and she finished him off with a quick chop to the back of the neck. Deke was there to drag the body out of sight and the other two quickly joined them in the foyer. Stripping off the security guard's trousers, jacket and hat, Deke handed them to Sergeant Hackin and told him to get changed. The Sergeant looked at Matt for confirmation.

"Works for me, Sergeant," he smiled.

"And the blue will go with your eyes," said Margo, fluttering her eyelashes.

She knew it was cruel to tease him, but they had to work quickly. Hackin might be a good sniper, but that didn't make him a good team player. Not on their team. As the three checked their weapons, they stood at the entrance to the elevator.

"Up or down?" Asked Matt.

The other two looked at each other and both said, "Down."

The bottom floor was the parking garage and they didn't think there would be anything there. They punched the button for the penultimate floor and as the doors slid quietly open they moved cautiously out of the elevator and into the corridor. There was one light at the end of the hall and moving towards it they found the other doors locked. Reaching their destination they listened carefully outside, but could hear nothing. Matt signalled that they would go on three, Margo would take the left and go low, Matt would go low and right and Deke would follow Margo, but go high. They broke through the door hard and fast. The two guards were taken by surprise and quickly despatched by Margo and Deke. A snoring figure on a low bed pushed into a corner had been oblivious to everything. Xavier Trout was fast asleep.

Matt laughed, "Anyone got a camera?"

It only took a few minutes and one capsule of smelling salts to revive Trout, but he was unsteady on his feet and incoherent. Deke reported to Sergeant Hackin and told him to bring his car to the entrance of the parking garage where they would meet him and threatened the Sergeant with dire consequences should he so much as scratch the black man's car. They figured that after the security guard was found it wouldn't be long before the SUV was discovered and the lawyer released.

Back at the Silver Star, Trout recovered some of his composure. Margo did her best to avoid his accusing stares. Matt filled him in on all that had happened since the exchange and Trout made an emotional phone call to Patty. When he came back from that call he was a very determined man.

Running his hands through his dishevelled hair and feeling the growth of beard on his chin, Trout sat down on the couch and sighed.

"I gave them everything Matt; the account number, the password, even the combination to my safe at the office. What ever they gave me worked, I couldn't stop talking. They have it all Matt, every cent of our money gone. We're out of business."

The look in his eyes said it all. Matt stood and asked the question they all wanted an answer to,

"Who was it?"

"Just before I lost consciousness I heard one of the interrogator's mention a name."

"Who?" Matt demanded to know.

"Winters, Tom Winters."

"How did he get out?" Matt could hardly believe his ears.

The last time they had crossed paths with Tom Winters, Margo and Benny Ray had ended up in hospital. Benny Ray had nearly died and only a singular act of bravery on the part of Nick had saved the day. At least that was how Nick told it.

"He didn't. He's still inside. Tom Winters was always a very influential man and it seems that incarceration hasn't altered that. I've been keeping very close tabs on Mr Winters after our own investigations showed that he'd got very close to discovering who Benny Ray and Margo were. Call it a professional interest. Did you know that three months ago Tom Winters changed his lawyers? He employed a firm local to LA to deal with his appeal."

"Let me guess Grainger, Bowdler, Dixey." Matt could almost hear the last piece of the puzzle fall into place. "Can we prove it?" He asked.

"With lawyer client privilege and our guess at who the men were that took me, I'd say the chances are almost non-existent," Trout replied, despondently.

"So what happens now?" Asked Sergeant Hackin, in all innocence.

"We do the one thing we can, we find Benny Ray."

SUNDAY MORNING

Despite their arguments that it was a waste of time, Trout called the local precinct. When he came back from the call he was grim-faced.

"The local boys tell me that the description of a John Doe has just been circulated from Inglewood. He's in the drunk tank and he sounds like Benny Ray."

Margo smiled for what seemed like the first time in days,

"Inglewood, but that's where the petrol station was, where they were holding Benny Ray."

They had to wait an hour for Benny Ray to be released. A very angry man emerged into the morning sunshine. He was also very smelly. Deke refused to let him ride in his car, but Margo was more than happy to have him by her side again. She took a deep breath.

"Benny Ray, I think you should let me take you to the hospital. Just to get you checked out."

He looked at her with the face that said never.

"Margo, I've just spent twenty four hours on the floor of the drunk tank and before that god knows how long sharing a cell with a bucket. I'm not going to the hospital."

She didn't give up. "But what about all those drugs they injected you with?"

He looked at her strangely. "I don't know what you think they did to me, sweetpea, but there were no injections, though I think they put something in the water, it tasted bad."

Relieved she patted his knee and whispered, "I'm so glad to have you back."

"Damn glad to be back."

A shower, a shave and a meal later and Benny Ray didn't smell any more, but he was still angry. He made Matt tell him everything while he ate and by the time he had finished he had just one question,

"What day is it? Margo didn't you tell me that this bank where Trout's money is held is some tin pot little operation where no one asks too many questions about where the money comes from?"

Margo nodded.

"So, today is Sunday." He sat back, a toothpick between his teeth looking pleased with himself.

The others in the room just stared at him until Deke repeated, "Sunday, I like it," and nodded.

Matt laughed and asked Margo if she could do it. She hesitated only a few seconds before agreeing that she could. Trout and Hackin looked at each other.

"Would someone like to explain to me what the hell is going on?" Trout demanded.

Benny Ray let Margo explain. All Trout could do was shake his head in disbelief. When Margo told him what she wanted he stood up and refused.

"If you don't reinstate my access codes then you'll have to give me yours. I can't do it without them," she said quietly.

"If you think I'm going to aid and abet you in crashing the banking system of an entire country, you're very much mistaken."

"Would you rather Winters got away with $11 million?" Matt interjected.

The choices were stark and Trout knew he would have to give in or let the money go. Reluctantly he made the calls to reinstate Margo's access codes, but assured her that as soon as this little job was over they would be cut off again. Margo smiled sweetly and Trout had the distinct impression that somehow it was going to be easier to say that than to do it.

With the access codes in place and Trout's account number and password Margo was soon into the system. The five men sat and watched her work. A slight sheen of perspiration covered her forehead and Sergeant Hackin was there at her side with a glass of cold water. When they ordered take out and Margo refused, deep in concentration, it was Hackin who made her a BLT, much to Deke's amusement. He slid over while the young Sergeant was busy in the kitchen, told him to go light on the mayo and walked away chuckling. Benny Ray called the young man over to his side and involved him in conversation. Margo gave Benny Ray a look of thanks. By the time Margo hit the enter button for the last time, six hours had passed.

"That gentleman leaves our Mr Winters up the proverbial creek without a paddle and all I can say is that it couldn't happen to a nicer man."

She had suffered because of Winters and she knew what he would have done to both her and Benny Ray had he succeeded. She hoped this would go some way towards payback.

"Well," announced Trout. "I think this calls for champagne, but the real stuff mind you, Matt," he shouted, as Matt went upstairs to the bar to fetch a bottle and some glasses.

EPILOGUE

Margo looking at the confused expression on Hackin's face, finally took pity on him and explained what she had done.

"Benny Ray was right about the Bank where the slush fund is kept. It is a very small operation and is kept decidedly low tech on purpose to avoid the attention of the banking authorities. They operate no direct banking system, giving their customers only an account number and password for security. Any transactions must be undertaken within normal banking hours and requests outside such hours are not processed until the next working day."

Hackin still looked confused. Margo came and sat next to him on the couch and putting her hand on his knee, which she was pleased to note, embarrassed the young man, continued with her explanation.

"Winters would have received Trout's password and account number some time Saturday night or this morning. The most he could have done at that point was to e mail a request for the money to be transferred. With the bank closed for the weekend such a request would not be processed until tomorrow morning. All I had to do was crash the entire banking system. Tomorrow morning when the bank realise that the system is down they will reset the accounts to how they stood on Friday when the bank closed. They always have the closing records on back up. The e-mail will be lost in the crash and according to Trout when this happened before the Bank contacted all its customers and asked for confirmation of any requests for transactions during the intervening period. Trout will only have to confirm there were no such requests and the money will be safe. If by any chance they do recover the e-mail at a later date, Trout's personal instructions will supersede the electronic ones."

"What happens to Winters?" He asked.

Trout took over the explanations. "It's my guess that Winters was trying not only to destroy us, but also in the process obtain some much needed funds. After his trial all the money that we knew about was confiscated. For him to have stage-managed this means he must have had access to other finance we didn't stop. Appeals don't come cheap and my hope is, that although we can't prove Winters was behind this, his sudden lack of funds will make life very difficult for him. Not only does he owe money to the Mob, but now he can't pay his lawyer's bill."

Trout started to laugh and Matt wanted to know what the joke was as he came down the stairs and heard laughter. As the bottle was opened and Matt started to pour the champagne, Sergeant Hackin started to maneuver into a position next to Margo. He came up against an immovable object.

"Did you enjoy your first Spec Ops job, Sergeant?" Benny Ray drawled in his finest Southern accent. "Because you make one more move in that direction and it will be your last."

The poor boy visibly wilted under the warning and took two large steps backwards coming to a halt against Deke.

"Listen to the man," Deke warned.

Looking like a rabbit dazzled by the headlights of an oncoming car, Sergeant Hackin moved as far away from Margo as he could and still be in the same room. Margo had watched everything and made her way to her two erstwhile protectors.

"Nice move guys," she complimented them. "But you two presume to make my decisions for me again and you'll find out that the CIA taught me more than just computer skills and languages."

Slowly she took a knife from the inside of her boot and having twirled it in her fingers casually, she threw it. The knife embedded itself in a calendar hanging on the wall. She skewered the groin of the man holding the latest in rocket launchers. Both men looked at each other and grimaced. Benny Ray replied for both of them,

"Yes Ma'am."

The End