He felt as if he was flying but everything remained static, nothing moved as the high pitched ringing in his ears began to make him nauseous. He could smell the acrid smell of spent gunpowder and felt the hard collision of his spine against an ungiving surface. Neither senses matched the picture before his eyes
            With a painful flash his paused vision took off like a movie reel that had been started back up. Grissom could see illuminated dust and floating paper particles dancing above him and with a start, realized he was on the floor. A shadow, a body, no, Nick was at his side, leaning over him. Even in his confusion Grissom could see that Nick was both concerned and confused, his brows knit tightly together as he shook his head.
            Was Nick talking to him? Grissom could see the man’s lips moving but all he could hear was the annoying ringing-whine. What’s he saying? Grissom tried to read Nick’s lips. Am, am I okay?”
“HELL NO!” Grissom was certain he had yelled it but it sounded like he was talking through water. Had he lost his hearing?
            Nick grabbed a hold of Grissom’s uninjured hand and hoisted the man to his feet. Grissom rubbed at his eyes trying to clear them but quickly realized that it was the smoke still drifting in the air. Aside from the smoke and paper debris the carnage did not seem to match the intense explosion that had knocked Grissom down and momentarily short circuited his senses.
            Brass and Sofia had rounded up the courthouse security and were helping coordinate the buildings evacuation. As his hearing slowly returned Grissom could hear Brass barking orders to a corrections officer to make sure all prisoners were accounted for and secured while at the same time assigning a court bailiff to stand and direct the evacuation near the staircase.
            “What the hell was that?” Warrick coughed trying to clear the chemicals from the back of his throat.
            The graveyard shift had rallied around their boss. Grissom pulled himself up to his full height, the nausea slowly subsiding. Even before his mind processed the scene, Grissom knew that it was no ordinary explosion. There was minimal structural damage and no apparent injuries other than his sore ass.
            “The smoke’s clearing,” Greg noted as he approached the candy machine.
            “Don’t,” Grissom said forcefully while taking the younger man’s arm and pulling him away. “Let’s get out of here and let bomb squad clear the place first.”
            Grissom was well aware of secondary explosives used to create maximum damage and casualties and wasn’t about to let his team be debris fodder. A flurry of bobbing heads agreed as they turned to make their way towards the staircase that Sofia was manning.
            “Bomb Squad is on its way,” she informed them as they passed. Grissom nodded as he momentarily halted on the top step, ushering the team forward.
            Since the elevators were not an option, Nick and David helped Doc Robbins down the stairs. There was a definite sense of urgency to vacate the building. They had no way of knowing if it was a bomb or multiple bombs, if the one they had experienced had just been a dud or part of a bigger plan. Regardless, they stayed together. It was unspoken, instinctive- everyone would make it to safety

            *****************************************************************

            Jacob Toller jumped behind the steering wheel of his counterfeit van. Fumbling with the ignition he threw a quick glance over his shoulder at the plastic wrapped body, hidden among cardboard boxes marked with candy logos. His next stop would be a culvert to the west of town. If things went as Markus planned the cops would think Richard had burnt up in a fiery car crash. If they didn’t, Markus figured it would mire them down for awhile.
            Pulling out onto the street just in time to avoid the fire truck and ambulance, Toller pulled of his cap and tossed it into the seat next to him. His hands were still shaking as he drove just below the speed limit. He had thought for certain that he was screwed when Grissom had spotted him in the back of the courtroom, had felt for certain that any moment some cop would come up and nab him. He’d never thought in his wildest imaginings that he would be so happy driving around Las Vegas with a corpse.

            ****************************************************************

            Donny Kempler was many things and punctual was one of them. At the time specified by Markus, he entered the alleyway that served as a loading dock and temporary parking lot. The building would be evacuated and secured until the bomb squad could clear it; making the corrections vehicles the only secure holding area for the prisoners.
            “You remember what you’re supposed to do.” It was a veiled threat and Laney Hale was not so far gone that she didn’t know it. Markus had broken her months ago in preparation for this moment. He also knew how to keep her in line.
            Laney had married an ambitious man, a legal attorney with ambitions far beyond the courtroom. When their marriage had soured he had been able to retain custody of their two boys- two little boys that were unwittingly being stalked by a killer. Every week Markus would show her photographs of her sons and week by week she could see him getting closer and closer to her sons. He never said he would harm them but the implications were clear, even in her shattered mind.
            “I remember,” she answered flatly exiting the vehicle, Donny carefully following.
            Donny spotted Richard Bathory the moment he was ushered from the building by the court bailiff. His wrists were cuffed behind his back and he was being lead about by his upper arm. The moment that Bathory descended the short concrete staircase, Donny and Laney were there.
            “Laney Hale, U.S. Marshal’s Service,” the woman showed the bailiff her credentials with one hand and indicated Donny with the other. “Don James. We’re here to secure and transport Mr. Bathory.”
            The bailiff’s discerning eye took in their appearance. Dressed in khakis button down white shirts and dark windbreakers with a white Marshal’s Service emblem over the left breast, they did appear the part. Still, the court officer was not going to simply give his charge away.
            “Do you have any paperwork?” He asked maintaining his grip on Bathory’s arm.
            Donny reached into his jacket and pulled the necessary paperwork out. Although the form was authentic, the document as a whole was as bogus as they come. Still, it was enough to placate the bailiff and within minutes Richard Bathory was a free man once more.

            *****************************************************************
 
            The concrete yard that lead to the courthouse was jammed with people not smart enough to seek a safe distance from the building. Although Grissom was certain that what they had just experienced was not life threatening, he wasn’t willing to bet the lives of his friends on it.
            “Jim, find out where they are taking the prisoners and then find out where Bathory is,” Grissom ordered. Under normal circumstances Brass might have balked at Grissom’s tone but normal times these were not.
            “Gil,” Catherine called out trying to keep up with the man’s hurried strides “where are we going?”
            Making it to the alleyway that separated the courthouse from the parking ramp, Grissom halted. He mentally took a head count and seeing as he had everyone’s undivided attention he jumped right in.
            “That wasn’t a fire it was potassium nitrate, smoke bomb,” Grissom watched the crowd as he spoke his eyes occasionally darting back to the people before him.
            “Smoke bombs smoke, maybe catch on fire but…” Nick wasn’t discounting what his boss had said but he had a healthy dose of curiosity.
            “True. From the lack of destruction and the sensory overload I’m guessing we were all subjected to Flash-Bang grenades.” Grissom explained.
            “That’d make sense, the disorientation, momentary blindness,” Sara nodded her head slowly in agreement.
            Grissom noticed a black SUV making its way out of the alley and stepped forward a pace to get out of the vehicle’s way as it pulled on to the street.
            Brass snapped his phone shut. “The prisoners are all being taken back to the loading area and placed in transport. Looks like most are going to be held at county until this mess is cleaned up.”
             “What about Bathory?” he asked his voice distant as he continued to watch the SUV.
            “Bailiff is supposed to call me.”
            Grissom looked down in thought, his brows furrowed. There was something misaligned in his mind, something that needed to be fixed. He stretched his hand out as his mind churned away.
            “Gris?” Sara placed her hand softly on his upper arm.
            Grissom looked to her. “Toller was there,” he said in a contemplative tone “in the courtroom.”
            “Toller, Jacob Toller?” Sara asked.
            “Wait was he the guy in the cap?” Brass asked an edge developing in his voice.
            Grissom nodded, effectively answering both questions. “I was following him out and…” A sickening feeling began to take root in the bottom of his stomach. He had been following Toller when Bathory had had his little fit. All eyes had been on Bathory and…
            Grissom took off running down the alleyway. Rounding the guard shack that sat at the open end of the alley, Grissom was nearly tackled by an overzealous guard. Grissom spun around just in time to place his injured palm into the man’s chest, his other hand going back in a fist.
            “WHOA-WHOA!” Brass ran up to the guard holding his badge up above his head for all to see. “He’s with me.”
            The guard had a moment of indecisiveness before taking in Grissom and deciding he wanted no part of the angry looking man. “We’re getting ready to lock the gate down,” the guard informed them hesitantly as he backed away from Grissom.
            Turning on his heel Grissom quickly chewed up the distance between them and the back dock. Several passenger vans were being used to load the prisoners in. To expedite the operation, guards were using permanent marker on the backs of the prisoners’ hands to ID them.
            “Bathory?” Grissom curtly asked the guard at the first van.
            Realizing what Grissom was up to Brass went to the second van and Nick jogged the length to the third and final van. The sickening feeling in his stomach was growing.
            “No Bathory,” Nick informed them breathlessly.
            Grissom looked to Brass, who shook his head confirming Grissom’s fears. Could he still be in the building? Grissom thought looking up at the courthouse.
            “Captain Brass.” It was the bailiff from Bathory’s case. Grissom jogged up to the man, grabbing his arm he almost yelled, “Where’s Bathory?”
            The bailiff quickly stepped up to Brass. The man was sweating profusely, his thinning black hair sticking to his forehead as he held out some folded papers. Brass took the documents from the man, an annoyed frown on his face as he glanced over the documents.
            “What’s this?” Brass asked angrily as he waved the papers at the other man.
            The bailiff was obviously taken off guard by Brass’ anger and took a half step back, his mouth dropping open. “Wha?”
            Brass handed the papers to Grissom as he snatched his phone from his hip. Grissom glanced over the papers his eyes immediately taking in the U.S. Marshal’s insignia.
            “Marshals, what would the Marshals want with him?” Sara asked looking over Grissom’s shoulder.
            Like a smack to the face Grissom realized what had happen. “SHIT!” he bellowed doubling over as if hit in the gut. Reaching over he snapped Brass’ phone shut.
            “They’re in a black Suburban made up to look like a government vehicle, J-5 are the first two digits.” Grissom paced in a circle trying to recall any detail.
            “There was a woman,” he said coming to a halt “Forties, dark hair cut short.”
            Brass relayed every detail into his phone, almost barking as he did so.
            Grissom stopped circling and started back towards the street. He felt as if he was going to explode into a million different pieces. He needed to go, find Bathory but where did he start looking?
            “Gris, wait!” Sara rushed after him, catching him at the street. “Where are you going?”
            Grissom’s head swiveled up and down the street in front of the courtyard. The Suburban was long gone. He was stuck in a holding pattern. “Damn it,” he cursed under his breath as he stormed off in the direction of the truck he and Sara arrived in.
            “Grissom, where are you going?” Catherine’s voice was rising in pitch. A side effect to the pace that she was being forced to keep while in heels and a mixture of concern and annoyance.
            Grissom clicked the button that unlocked the truck’s doors. Grabbing Sara by the hand, he swung her around the passenger door and placed her in the seat. “Every rodent runs back to their nest,” he informed Catherine and the rest. “I just have to figure out where the rat bastard is nesting.”
            “Well you heard him boys,” Catherine said heading towards her car “were hunting rat.”