Richard Bathory watched in rapture as the woman before him gasped in short breaths, her wide eyes slowly drooping closed as she lost consciousness once again. He ran the tip of his tongue along his teeth as if he could lick the essence of her fear and pain from the very air. Running his index finger along her naked body he drew swirls and lines through the heavy sheen of sweat and blood that covered Laney’s shackled body.
            It had been so, so long since he had been allowed his pleasures. Richard hoped he was strong enough to prolong the woman’s use but felt his restraint slowing slipping.
            “It’sss unfortunate that Markussss had to break you in order to free me,” Richard hissed at the unconscious woman as he absentmindedly massaged her blood and sweat across his bare, thin chest. “You must have been quite the challenge in the beginning.”
            Richard looked at the woman’s dark hair plastered against her head. Markus had teased him with the promise of something spectacular before they left Las Vegas and the United States and the fact that it involved Gil Grissom only whetted Richard’s appetite further. He had said he would have to wait until after he was through with the woman before him.
            Snapping the smelling salt in front of her nose, Richard watched as her eyes blinked and she tried to pull her head away from the offensive salts. He wanted her awake one last time.
            “La-ney, oh, La-ney,” Bathory sang as he inspected the curved blade he planned on using next.
            The woman blinked and pulled her eyes open wide as she tried to focus her sight and clear the painful fog in her head. Her gray eyes finally rested on her tormentor and she began to moan in fear and protest as he approached. The metal gleamed brightly in the room’s light as he bent down to pet her head.
            “Did I ever tell you my mother was a high school history teacher before she got sick?” Bathory asked as if they had known each other for years. “She used to tell me stories about the Middle Ages, about knights and kings.” Bathory circled her head as he spoke, his tone said he was lost in thought. “She also told me about the …punishments of the times.”
            Laney’s eyes began to widen even further as she began to pull on her restraints in renewed desperation. Richard placed the curved blade against her breast and gently trailed it along her bloody skin as he circled the table she laid upon. Laney crushed her eyes closed as he rounded the end of the table, his nudity more apparent and a reminder of things she just wanted to forget.
            “They call it the dark ages,” he spoke softly to her trailing the knife up her opposite leg, “but I think it is just posturing for puritanical reasons.”
            Bathory stopped and looked directly into Laney’s terrified eyes. “They were geniuses,” he pulled the tape from her mouth, “artistssss without airssss.”
            Laney’s screams echoed against the brick walls and open expanses of the building. They were short lived, slowly dying out as her life’s breath mingled with Bathory’s hiss of pleasure. Leaning over the woman Richard watched enthralled as the light behind her eyes faded. Smelling her deeply the demented murderer leaned in and ran his tongue along her sweaty, bloody face before expelling a shuddered breath hidden in a moan of ecstasy.
            Looking down at his naked body Bathory displayed a feral grin. “You’ve worn me out my dear,” he chuckled throwing the knife haphazardly onto the bloody body before him, “I need to clean up and find out what games Markus has planned for me.”
            Richard cackled sinisterly as he made his way to the adjoining locker room and its showers. He was eager to hear the juicy secret Markus had taunted him playfully with. If it involved pain and suffering for Grissom it would simply be icing on his cake.

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

            Placing his coffee alongside the computer monitor, Greg continued to tap away on the keyboard, searching through the various county assessors’ records. Grissom wanted to cross check the names of Richard Bathory’s victims and possible victims with property titles within Nevada and surprisingly they had already come up with some hits.
            The board had four possible properties corresponding to three names. Two were houses; one located in Sparks another in Boulder City. One title was for bare land west of Mesquite another for a shuttered church south of Vegas.
            “Where are we at?” Grissom asked coming to stand between Greg and the glass dry erase board that he had been using to eliminate names and properties.
            “Alright, I’ve gotta Elspeth “Elsie” Wittmer, missing at age 14, died in November 1991 at age 19.” Greg read the case information, typing the girl’s name into the computer and waiting to see if his search turned into anything.
            Grissom wrote the girl’s name on the board. Grissom paused, his hand resting against the board. “I remember that case,” he said in thought.
            “The Wittmer case?” Greg asked as he opened the next file.
            Grissom turned around, tapping the dry-erase pen against the index finger of his opposite hand. “Yes,” he answered “Elspeth had an older sister, May… she was much older…nine, ten years. The parents always accused the older sister of kidnapping Elspeth.”
            Greg turned on the stool he was sitting on. “Did she?” he asked.
            Greg’s questioned seemed to break Grissom’s trip down memory lane. Directing his full attention on Greg he answered, “I don’t know. Pete Macon from days was lead on it. I was only able to tie Bathory to her case years later when I went through and profiled his victims and his signature. Pete brought her to my attention and we were able to connect her to Bathory from a partial print on her big toe.”
            Greg looked from Grissom to the board before turning his attention to the box sitting on the table an arm reach away. Sometimes the enormity of the job came into perspectives at the oddest moments and times for Greg. He knew that Grissom had been on the job for years but it was at that moment that he realized how many victims out there had been given a voice because of the man standing next to him. The realization was astounding and humbling and Greg’s one true hope is that he could measure up to be half the investigator Grissom was.
            “Greg…look up May Wittmer.” Grissom’s voice held that note that told Greg a thought had just raced by the man.
            “The sister?” Greg asked as he typed the name into his search database. “Is she dead?”
            “As far as I know…no, but I can almost guarantee you she is.” Grissom said stepping forward to watch Greg work. “Bathory never keeps his toys for long, especially the females.”
            Greg took a moment to look at Grissom his face was a blank mask but his voice dripped with hatred. He supposed if any man deserved Grissom’s hatred it was Bathory and his brother.
            “Hey we have a hit off the sister’s name,” Greg said tapping his fingers along the keyboard. “It only states that it is commercial…hold on,” Greg said using his computer talents to search another avenue.
            Grissom placed May Wittmer’s name on the board along with the property. “That makes five,” he muttered.
            “I’m gonna run a search on previous owners…maybe it will tell us a little more about the property,” Greg’s fingers tapped along the keyboard as he broadened the perimeters of his search.
            Grissom pulled his cell phone from its place at his hip. “I’m going to get Brass in on this. See if he can get anyone to check the Boulder City and Sparks properties.”
            Bringing the phone to his ear, Grissom noticed Sara’s entrance into the room even before he saw her. Turning, he noted that she had changed out of her coveralls and into a pair of well worn jeans and a burgundy blouse. She looked more energized than when he had left her after Bathory’s escape and appeared eager to speak with him.
            Getting Jim’s voice mail Grissom left him a quick message and then turned his attention to the woman before him. Grissom had never felt so vulnerable or exposed in their relationship then he had since he had escaped Bathory and his devils. He felt a constant tug of war going on within him. He needed and wanted her, wanted to hold her and comfort her at the same time he wanted to run as far and as fast as he could from her. He wanted to save her…from me.
            “What do you have?” Grissom asked knowing from the look on her face that she and Nick had found something within the burnt out wreck.
            Sara smiled her knowing smile. “Well, Doc Robbins confirmed what we all ready suspected…body wasn’t Bathory. No I.D. yet but we know who it’s not.”
            One side of Grissom’s mouth curled up, which surprised Sara a little. She wasn’t sure what reaction she had expected but cynical humor was not one of them.
            “Why do they think they can fool us?” Grissom smirked as he looked at the report Sara handed him. Noting an entry sent to Trace he asked, “Do you know what the substance in the back was?”
            “Not yet,” Sara acknowledge, “Nick was heading over to see if the day guy in Trace had anything yet. He’s not as annoying as Hodges but he’s not as good either so…”
            “Well I’ll take all of David Hodges idiosyncrasies because he is that good,” Grissom said as his phone began to buzz. “Grissom…yes Jim, I have some addresses I need checked, might be Bathory shell houses,” pausing to listen to Brass he added “alright I’ll have Greg email them to you.”
            “Shell houses?” Greg asked from behind Grissom.
            Grissom broke eye contact with Sara and turned to face Greg. “Houses hidden and shuffled through false or bogus ownership to hide who truly has possession.”
            “Ahhh,” Greg had to admit he learned something new every time he came to work.
            “Brass is going to call in local law enforcement in Sparks and Boulder City,” Grissom added as an aside.
            They were about to delve back into the files when Nick sauntered in waving the Trace report around like a flag. “Our shiny material was not just silica but sodium silicate-“
            “Silica gel,” Grissom threw out before Nick could continue.
            “Riiight,” Nick said slightly staggered by Grissom’s input. He knew he shouldn’t be after so many years of working with the man, but his breadth of knowledge still astounded him.
            Sara just rolled her eyes in a gesture that asked ‘what did you expect?’ Looking to Grissom she ventured, “We’re at an impasse right now…what if Nick and I grabbed Brass and checked out some of your properties?” Sara looked to the board to verify what she was getting herself into. With three of the properties being covered by other law enforcement that left only two- at least for now, Sara thought.
            Grissom nodded his approval. If there was any evidence of either Bathory being at the property it would probably be beneficial to have a CSI there. “Alright, BUT use all precautions, understood?”
            Grissom leveled his gaze on Sara. “Understood,” she answered with a hint of a smile. Two things Grissom had a hard time hiding from the rest of the world; one was his possessiveness towards Sara the second was his concern not just for her but for the whole team.
            Nick and Sara made to leave. “We’ll let you know if we come up with anything,” Nick threw back as he exited the room.
            Grissom nodded already turning his attention to Greg and the task at hand. If his estimates were correct they had gone through approximately three-fourths of Richard Bathory’s known and suspected victims. That had correlated into five possible hits, if they were lucky something would come up on one of the properties.
            “If we are lucky,” Grissom muttered to himself.
            “What?” Greg turned from the monitor, a look of confusion on his face.
            Grissom just shook his head and began going through the files one more time.

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

            Markus watched Donny and Jake load boxes into the back of the cargo van through large glass paned window that overlooked the warehouse. Sipping casually on the dark amber liquid in his glass, Markus mentally went over his lists trying to see variables that he had not planned for. They were in the final stretch of his plan and he did not want anything to go awry.
            As he had suspected, Richard was itching for a quick fix. As he had planned, he gave him the former marshal. Markus knew that it would not last long. Richard had gone without his needed diversions for a longtime, his appetite would be insatiable for awhile but Markus hoped that it would sustain his brother for awhile. They were at a very precarious point in their plan and he needed Richard to hold together for awhile longer.
            Markus did not want to reveal his trump card to Richard until he had to but he was certain he could control Richard with the promise of future retribution. A retribution involving Gil Grissom and his lady love. Markus was certain the thought of that alone would keep his brother semi-pliable, at least for the near future.
            Jake hefted the last of the containers into the back of the van before Donny slammed the rear doors shut. Spinning around Donny gave Markus the thumbs up sign, indicating he was ready. Markus’ nodded, setting his drink down on the heavy wooden conference table.
            “Are you leaving?” Richard asked, pulling down gently on the towel wrapped around the back of his neck.
            “Yes,” Markus answered, pouring his brother a drink and handing it to him. “Jake will remain here with you. I will take Donny with me.”
            Richard sunk into a well used leather chair, his colorless eyes following Markus with a hint of amusement. He did enjoy when Markus was in his element, watching as he planned, conspired and manipulated their worlds. Markus was the master conductor to Richard’s operatic masterpiece.
            “How long do you imagine your little trip will take?” Richard asked watching Markus over the rim of his glass.
            “Dealing with Cezar and Cassiopeia…it is hard to say,” Markus replied, slipping a dark jacket on. “You know how cautious they are,” he explained, “I imagine it will depend on how many hoops they have set out for me.”
            Richard chuckled. He was glad that Markus was dealing with the exotic crime boss and her devoted assistant. Although Cassiopeia was a lovely piece of eye candy, he could sense a lack of respect in her for himself, something that Richard never dealt with well.
            “I will expect to hear from you no later then tomorrow morning,” Richard said coming to his feet to wrap his twin brother in a fierce hug.
            When Richard pulled away Markus leveled him with a serious gaze. “Stay here Richie! It is not safe for you right now. If you do not hear from me by noon tomorrow, you know where to go. There is money and a passport for you. Get away and I will find you.”
            Richard chuckled. “You worry too much Markus,” he accused, “All will be fine.”
            Markus gave his brother a half-smile. He worried too much because Richard worried not at all. “I will tell Jake to take care of the woman,” Markus told Richard as he left the room.
            Markus sincerely hoped that Cassiopeia and her crew would move quickly. Markus was eager to get Richard away from the area, more specifically away from Gil Grissom. He had taken the man because he was too intuitive and now he had a highly vested stake in the apprehension in all of them. Markus wanted to deal with Grissom on his own terms but unfortunately he would have to declare those terms another time.
   
            *****************************************************************

Grissom snapped his phone shut. Running his right hand across his temple to the back of his neck, Grissom tried to work out the kink that was forming there. He could feel the cold tingle of apprehension dance along his spine and closed his eyes tightly trying to fight of the inevitable sharp barbed waves of hostility. He didn’t want to be on edge, he didn’t want to scream at the world and fight his demons. Grissom wanted to be numb, numb was safe and safe never hurt.
            “Hey Grissom,” Greg’s voice pulled him from his worries, “I’ve got a hit on Jessica Fielding.”
            “WHAT?” Grissom slapped his glasses on to his face as he glanced quickly over the computer screen.
            “Yea,” Greg said as he made room for Grissom, “it’s out near the train yard.”
            “Centech Shipping and Packaging?” Grissom read Greg’s expanded search. “SILICA GEL!” Grissom expelled spinning on his heels and making for the door.
            “GRISSOM!” Greg called out only catching up to the man at the receptionist’s desk. “Let’s call Brass have him meet us there okay,” he implored following Grissom out into the parking lot.
            “Call him,” Grissom ordered hoping into one of the lab Denalis and throwing his reading glasses onto the dash in exchange for his sunglasses. “Tell him to meet me there.”
            “LIKE HELL!” Greg exclaimed under his breath jumping into the seat beside Grissom.
.           Grissom had the Denali out of the parking lot in record speed as Greg excitedly filled Brass in on the evidence and where they were headed.
            “GREG, you keep him away from the building until I get there,” Brass ordered in a huff, “UNDERSTOOD.”
            Greg understood perfectly and would be more than happy to oblige the homicide detective, he just didn’t know if he’d be able to convince Grissom. “Understood,” he dutifully replied.
            “Brass wants us to wait for him,” Greg relayed, closing one eye as he grimaced at the harrowing lane change Grissom had executed. His hand without thought pulled on the seatbelt around his waist testing its strength while his eyes darted to the dash. Air Bag, thank God!
“Sure,” was Grissom’s non-committal response, his sunglass shaded eyes never leaving the road.
            Greg could only send up a silent prayer that Brass beat them to the location. He was twenty years younger than Grissom, but even on Grissom’s worse day Greg suspected the man could still take him. Hey, I was captain of the chess team not a hot shot jock, Greg thought trying to defend himself in his own mind. Grissom looks like he could have been a jock. No! He probably went on safari all the time, eating boiled cockroaches and sugar dipped beetles! Got all manly living in the wild or something!
Grissom casually glanced over at Greg looking as if he had been able to read the younger man’s mental ramblings. A momentary startled look covered Greg’s face before he turned to stare at the traffic ahead. Note to self: Grissom can read minds!

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

            “SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!” Brass chanted running back to his car, Nick and Sara hustling behind him.
            “JIM,” Sara might have laughed at Brass’ foul mouthed mantra but some how she knew it had to do with Grissom, “WHAT’S WRONG!”
            They had caught up to the police detective at the curb just as he was getting ready to jump into his car. Nick circled the front of their Denali, hurriedly fishing in the front pocket of his jeans for the keys to the truck.
            “Greg found a listing for a Jessica Fielding in one of his searches. Turns out it’s a factory, silica gel factory,” Brass called out the last he entered his car.
            ‘SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!” Nick intoned in a hurry as he fumbled to start the truck and catch up with Brass.
            Sara slipped her buckle on quickly before reaching for her phone. The first number she called was Grissom. One ring, two rings, three rings… “Damn it, he’s not answering.”
            “Try Greg,” Nick said slightly breathless as he reached to flip the Denali’s emergency lights on. Nick could count on one fingerless hand how many times he had been in a high speed chase before Grissom’s abduction, now he was well on his way to two. He only prayed that Jim was a little kinder on his nerves than Grissom had been.
            “GREG! Whereareyou?” Sara ejected out in one quick breath. “Good, good… we shouldn’t be too far behind you but you have to keep him in the truck.”
            Nick laid on the horn as Sara tried to reassure a very nervous sounding Greg that he would do just fine. After a couple of attempts to get Grissom to talk to her, Sara gave up and told Greg to hang in there- the cavalry was coming!