Cassiopeia Varga turned her jade colored gaze to the darkly handsome man, seated next to her and smiled as her driver pulled into the private hangar and parked.
“I do like a punctual man,” Cassiopeia purred at seeing Markus and Donny standing next to a dark gray cargo van, waiting.
Cezar returned her smile as he reached out and held the fingers of her right hand tenderly but firmly. “Have you decided what you are going to do?” he questioned, his black eyes seeking her face for some clue to her answer.
Cassiopeia’s gazed traveled past her driver, out the window of her limousine to the men waiting outside. She had no doubt that Markus Bathory was unaware of his brother’s death several hours ago. She had requested that they meet at the hangar and that he would arrive at 6pm and wait; that had been nearly four hours ago. Since the hangar was her private property she knew that there were no televisions on the premises and that radio signals and other favored technologies by the authorities were thwarted by her band of high-tech watchdogs and their many toys.
“Mmm,” she hummed.
She had considered concluding their business and leaving the man in the dark but she had decided that Markus Bathory had become persona non gratis with all the heat he was generating. Cops were bad for business, Cassiopeia didn’t like cops and she made it appoint to stay away from anyone they were remotely attracted to and they had a big hard on for the man awaiting her.
“I think Markus needs to hear of his brother’s unfortunate demise,” she finally answered turning to Cezar.
Her smile turned from jaded to sincere as she took in his concerned face. She knew that he loved her, knew that she loved him but theirs was a different kind of relationship. In the shadows, behind closed doors and in secret the crime czar and czarina loved. Sure there were the occasional flings but sex was just sex. They had risen from destitution, overcome geopolitical uprisings and traversed half a globe together; a brief dalliance could not break such a bond.
“He is a dangerous man,” Cezar glanced at Markus through the windshield “you will be careful my love.”
“I am always,” she claimed softly running the palm of her hand along his cheek before signaling to her driver and bodyguard that she was ready.
Cezar’s eyes lingered on her for a moment before exiting the limousine from his side of the vehicle. His men had immediately vacated their black Humvee upon seeing Cassiopeia’s driver and bodyguard exit the limo. His personal bodyguard, Georghe held the door for him with his left hand, his right free to pull the machine pistol from under his suit coat if the moment called for it.
Cezar spoke to Georghe in their native tongue, letting him know the situation before they advanced with Cassiopeia and her bodyguard. Both drivers remained with the vehicles cautiously keep an eye on their surroundings and the group congregating in the center of the hangar.
“Markus,” Cassiopeia sang as she approached
Markus smiled at the jade eyed beauty with the long dark curly hair. Even at a drug buy she manages to look elegant, Markus mused as he approached her bodyguard his arms out to his sides. She was dressed in black slacks and heels with a black jacket that ended mid thigh, with a tall ornate collar and black silk embroidered piping.
“Cassiopeia,” Markus greeted with a smile, loving the distasteful moue she did with her mouth as her guard came forward and patted him, then Donny down. Markus had no illusions, though, she’d have him bare assed for all the world to see to make certain he wasn’t a threat.
Satisfied that Markus was not a threat to his boss, the silent giant gave Cassiopeia a single nod and took a step back for the woman.
Stepping forward her arms thrown wide, she came forward and gave Markus a gentle hug, placing a kiss on each cheek. “Oh dear,” she laughed as she wiped her black gloved thumb over his cheeks “lipstick.”
Turning her attention to the frowning red headed man standing behind Markus, Cassiopeia greeted him. “Donny, it is nice to see you again,” she chimed happily “you have turned into such a strong young man.”
Markus could not suppress the grin that came to his face when he actually so Donny smile.
“So, we have some business to take care of,” Cassiopeia proclaimed motioning to her driver with a flick of her wrist.
The stubble headed, thick necked, brick of a man left his post at the open driver side door of the limousine and made his way to the trunk. With a brown leather briefcase in each hand he returned, coming to stand just behind and to the side of the seductively smiling beauty.
With a flick of her hand she gestured for the man to open the briefcase, displaying the multiple 10G bricks within. The deal had been for 500 kilos of Markus Bathory’s “party mix” in exchange for a quarter of a million dollars. It is enough money for Richard and me to disappear for awhile and live a relatively comfortable life, Markus thought.
Markus smiled and had Donny come forwards and take the briefcases in exchange for the keys to the dark gray van.
The keys made it to Georghe who quickly inspected the cargo and vehicle. Satisfied with their buy and that there were no unseen dangers associated with the van, the Armani dressed muscle mass exited the vehicle.
“Bun,” he spoke to his boss, standing where he could keep and eye on both Donny and Markus.
“Sigur?” Cezar asked wanting to know if the vehicle was safe.
“Da,” his man answered with a nod, his hands folded across his front.
Cezar turned to face Cassiopeia. There was no need to translate; the woman had known five different languages before the age of ten thanks to her Russian KGB agent mother and her well-to-do Greek mobster father.
The woman nodded, letting her lover know she was about to finish their business with what was left of the Bathory brothers.
“Your vehicle is outside, as you asked,” pointing to her bodyguard, the man came forward and handed Markus a plain white business card with a single line of black numbers on it. “Your transportation out of the country can be gained by calling this number. It is only good for 24 hours Markus, so I suggest you make haste.”
Markus placed the card in the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He had led Toller and Abrams to believe they would be escaping across country to Denver, where they would catch a flight out of the country. Since they were never going to come it didn’t matter that they had never been in on the actual plan.
“Richard and I have a small matter to take care of and then we will be on our way,” Markus informed her with a smile. If Daciana’s man had done his job, their departure would come sooner rather than later.
Whether Sara Sidle knew it or not, she was destined for a little trip, Markus dipped his head to try and control his mirth.
“Richard?” Cassiopeia said with faux confusion and concern. Her practiced worried glance looking between Markus and Cezar.
Markus took her confusion to mean she had not yet found out about Richard’s escape from the courthouse. Something he found slightly off but did not swell on.
“Yes, your pilot will have four passengers.” Well, three passengers and one plaything, he mused silently.
“Umm, Markus, darling…” again Cassiopeia looked to Cezar as if begging his help in a delicate matter.
Cezar hung his head in a defeated manner. He was not a tenth the actor the lovely woman before him was. He would leave the ruse and the bomb that was about to be dropped to her. Of course that was how she wanted it and he knew it.
“…Richard is dead,” she informed the man before her.
Markus’ smile hung, his brain not processing her information right away. Then it began to wane as confusion and denial scattered his ability to think straight. When Cassiopeia continued to stare at him sympathetically, his brain began to take small steps forward as his smile faded away.
“What?” he bit out, looking between Cezar, who refused to meet his gaze head on and Cassiopeia.
“It was on the news as we were coming over,” she explained, pressing her palms together as if in prayer and placing them under her lips. “There was an altercation with some cops and he was…killed. It does not look good for your man Jacob either.”
“No,” Bathory rejected, his head and eyes darting about the hangar as he sought anything to focus his mind on.
“I’m sorry my dear but it is true.” Cassiopeia turned to make her way back to her car, her driver following while her bodyguard remained steadfast, waiting until his charge and the driver were safely in the vehicle.
“You should make good your escape, Markus,” Cezar suggested, wanting to put distance between the man and anything connected to him or Cassiopeia. “You have no more business here.”
Cezar returned to the limo with his Georghe in tow and within minutes the distraught men were left alone.
“She’s gotta be wrong,” Donny proclaimed, unwilling to believe that Richard was dead.
“Come,” Markus ordered marching to the red and silver Ford Explorer Cassiopeia had supplied for them.
He would find out what was true and what was not. If Richard was dead then he would rain Hell down upon Las Vegas, showing no mercy until every last man and woman responsible was dead. Their spouses would be dead and their children would be strung out slaves for him to trade like baseball cards to any pedophile he chose.
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Sara sank on to her couch feeling three times heavier than natural. After Grissom had sped off Catherine had taken charge and rallied the remaining, shell shocked troops. Assigning Sara to Nick and Greg, she had assured the younger woman that she and Warrick would look after Grissom.
“You need to get your head screwed back on tight,” Catherine had said to Sara in an aside. “You need to take care of yourself right now.”
Sara had been about to protest when Catherine went on. “You won’t do him or you any good in the state you are in right now, Sara. Go home get a hot bath, a few hours sleep, even eat. Warrick and I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”
Sara had felt too tired to fight two fronts. Besides, she had known that Catherine was right. If she had gone directly to Gil’s safehouse there would have been more of him yelling, her crying and she knew that wasn’t going to help anyone.
When Nick and Greg had gotten her back to her apartment Sara had felt cold and numb. She had stood in the middle of her living room stalled, unable to form a course of action. She was an automaton with no programming, paused and waiting.
It was only with the suggestion of a shower by Greg that had set Sara’s feet in motion. With a weak bobble of her head she had wandered off to her bedroom and the shower, leaving two very worried friends to fend for themselves in her living room.
Two hours later and some serious convincing on Sara’s part, Nick and Greg had departed with twin “call me if you need anything.”
Ten minutes later there was a light rap at her door. Wearily Sara pushed her self up from her couch, giving her living room a cursory glance as she assumed Greg or Nick had left something and returned. Trudging to the door, Sara opened it without checking through the peephole.
Expecting to see either Nick or Greg, Sara was shocked to find a tall, lithe black man in a white lab coat outside her door. The momentary alarm had set her heart to racing but Sara tried to reason the man had simply knocked on the wrong door. If she hadn’t have been so worn down and mentally weary she may have questioned why a man in a lab coat was knocking on doors at 11pm at night.
“I’m sorry you-“
Sara never finished her sentence. Once her eyes made contact with his she knew something sinister was about and tried quickly to slam the door in his face. Where Sara’s reactions were dulled by lack of sleep and emotional upheaval, her attacker’s were razor sharp.
Catching the door with his right foot and hand, his left hand shot out, spraying a sweet smelling mist directly into Sara’s face. Sara stumbled backwards trying to get away from her attacker, her right hand coming up to ward him off as she blinked rapidly trying to clear her vision.
Her gun was on top of the refrigerator and that was her course of action as she yanked her arm from the intruder and spun away trying to make her way to the kitchen. Almost immediately Sara knew something was wrong, even before the world started to sway and lurch. Sara crashed into the island counter that separated her small kitchen from her living room, knocking the sugar bowl and small basket of tea packets to the kitchen floor.
Sara’s intruder came up quickly behind her, pulling her up against his chest as she began to stumble to one knee, her left hand reaching out for the counter to steady herself. With Sara’s back pinned to his chest, Sara caught out of the corner of her eye, a white rag descending on her face. The ominous implications renewing her struggles as she bucked back against him, slamming him heavily into the counter.
The impact gained Sara enough freedom that she crawl-ran to her front door, the gun on the refrigerator no longer an option. She had just made the corner that lead to her front door when she came face to face with a young woman blocking her escape, a menacing looking .38 gleaming in her hand. Sara looked from the gun to the smiling woman. She felt the impact of her intruder slamming into her back and then her world went black.
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Catherine had swung it with Ecklie to have the swing shift and day shift cover for her team. The days emotional turmoil had taken its toll and she couldn’t guarantee that any of them would be able to do their jobs right. For now, Ecklie was told it was an investigation and subsequent arrest that had gone down badly but she knew that they would have to fill in some of the questionable blanks later. For the immediate future it was a less is best game plan.
After convincing Sara to go home and regroup, she and Warrick had made their way to Gil’s safehouse. The first half of the ride had been completely silent. Each of them left to their own thoughts, sifting through a myriad of emotions. As they got closer, Warrick was the first to break the silence.
“Cath?” His voice had been soft, slightly gruff from all the emotions that were still cascading through him. “What…how are we going to help him?”
Catherine had sighed heavily as she turned into the main arterial road that led to the residential area where Grissom’s temporary home was located. The very same thought had been running non stop in her mind ever since Grissom had sped away.
“I don’t know but we’ll think of something,” she had tried to reassure him as much as herself.
When they arrived at the house, they were relieved to find the Denali parked on the street in front of the house. If he hadn’t ridden of on his bike, they at least knew where he was.
“Hey,” the officer in the unmarked car got out and solemnly greeted them. The look on his face already told Catherine she was not going to like what he had to say.
“The neighbors over here,” he indicated the house to their right with a tilt of his head “called in a disturbance right after he got here. I was able to have dispatch cancel any responding unit but I did call Captain Brass.”
“Is Jim coming?” Catherine asked her eyes traveling from the officer to the house and back.
“Not immediately. He said he had a call he needed to take care of first,” the man looked to the house. “He’s been quiet for about twenty minutes. I peaked into the house not to long ago and it looked like he was preparing to go on a bender.”
“Thanks man,” Warrick said falling Catherine to the front door.
Reaching the door Warrick held Catherine back with a gentle hand on her shoulder. He had the odd recollection of a documentary he had once watched where pilots flew into hurricanes. That was how he felt at that moment, like he and Catherine were about to be tossed into a serious shit storm.
“Cath, maybe I should go first,” he explained. Warrick wasn’t sure who was on the other side of the door, whether it was their friend and supervisor or the tortured remains of Gil Grissom.
Catherine smiled wanly at Warrick and patted the hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay,” she told him before turning the knob and cautiously stepping in.
What furniture that had survived his first melt down had now been reduced to broken piles of junk. The glass patio doors were shattered with what looked to be a lamp table and the walls were pock marked with fist holes and maybe even a few head holes. The place was a wreck.
Warrick and Catherine had matching wide eyed looks as they took in the carnage. He had left nothing unscathed. Shredded couch pillows, broken lamps, cracked and shattered windows all swore testimony to Grissom’s all consuming rage.
Catherine became aware of the running water in the kitchen and rounded the short length of wall that separated the entryway from the rest of the house. Standing in the muted light of the open refrigerator door Catherine could see Grissom. He was leaning on his elbows, staring into the kitchen ink as the water ran full force. Just staring, not moving, like he had been turned to stone on that very spot.
“Gil,” Catherine called out softly, not wanting to startle the man as they approached.
Catherine could see that the cop out front was right. It did look like Grissom was working at getting rip roaring drunk, but at the heavy smell of alcohol and the number of broken bottles she could see, Catherine figured he had wasted more of the liquor than he had consumed.
“Go away Catherine,” Grissom finally said, not moving.
Catherine noted his gun on the counter to his right next to the unopened bottle of Glenfidditch. He can have the scotch; Catherine thought I want the gun.
“You know I can’t do that,” she told him, making her way closer to him.
Catherine could see he was a wreck, even in the minimal light. His hair was wet and tousled, she could pick up the dark sweat stains around his collar and his knuckles were raw as he desperately gripped the sink. He was struggling and from the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, Catherine knew it was not rage or anger he was trying to keep reined in.
“Gil,” she whispered her hand gently reaching out to touch his upper arm.
At her touch his head dropped and he rocked back on to his heels before pulling himself forward again. He was losing his battle to retain control and Catherine could see it as much as she sensed it. Gil Grissom was a battered ship approaching dangerous cliffs.
“Sara?” he choked.
Catherine smiled softly pulling him gently to stand in front of her. His head still hung low and she knew it was an attempt to hide the tears building in his eyes.
“She’s fine. She loves you, nothing’s going to change that,” Catherine assured him.
Grissom gulped in breath after breath as he tried not to break into a million pieces, his head shaking in disbelief.
Catherine reached up and took his head in her hands and nodded as she spoke. “Yes, yes…yes, she does. You know she does,” Catherine argued gently, her heart breaking at the sight of the silent tears slipping down his cheeks.
Grissom leaned back against the counter and slid to the floor, the weight of his suffering too much. “I told her, I told her to pull the trigger,” he stammered his voice so thick from his emotions he barely sounded like himself.
Catherine slid to the ground next to him. “I know, I know,” she told him and she did, she had seen every agonizing second.
“I didn’t want her to…It should have been me, not her but…after everything I couldn’t make myself…” Grissom sucked in a large breath fighting for the words he was searching for, “I couldn’t help but be thankful that I was alive but hated it, I didn’t want to be thankful. I didn’t want it to be me or her.”
“Shhh,” Catherine reached out and pulled his head to her shoulder, trying to calm and comfort him.
“She was so scared and, and I failed her and I failed Sara-“
“NO, Gil, you haven’t failed anyone. Do you hear me?” Catherine took hold of his face, “The only person you’ve failed is your self. You have to stop blaming yourself. You are guilty of nothing!”
Grissom stared at her before slowly lowering his head into her lap, unable to fight his burdens any longer. Catherine stroked his curly head softly, gently keeping watch as the man gradually disintegrated.
Warrick silently walked through the shattered patio door, taking a seat near the pool. Close enough to be of assistance if hew was needed but far enough not to intrude on the two friends sitting on the kitchen floor. His head lolled back as he tried to take in the night sky. Blinking quickly to hold back the tears, he sighed, his sadness a heavy weight in the center of his chest.