Obie's van

They had driven five minutes in silence after leaving the precinct. Blair being quiet was, Obie knew, like seeing the sun set in the North when in Alaska. He knew something was bugging the kid, and he had a good idea what. "It wasn't a lie, Blair."

"You told me and Naomi your knee was smashed in a fight over a woman." Blair was staring out the front window, deliberately not looking at his uncle.

"It was."

"C'mon, Obie! Getting your knee crushed by Rwandan rebels sounds like a hell of a lot more than someone jealous over a tryst with a woman."

Blair had learned that what his uncle did was risky the night he was six years old. He'd been awakened by the sound of his mom yelling. There didn't seem to be anyone else talking in the house, though. Blair had climbed out of bed and crept to the kitchen, careful not to let her know he was there. He found Naomi yelling something about Uncle Obie into the phone. He hadn't pieced it together until much later that Naomi had freaked when a group of doctors near where Obie worked was killed. She had been on the phone that night trying to get the names of who had died, to find out what had happened to her brother. When Obie had returned, very much alive, they'd had a huge argument over whether he should return to his work or not.

"I never actually said 'tryst'..." Obie objected.

"Don't do that! Don't obfuscate, don't B.S. me, don't change the subject! I want to know what happened. The truth this time."

Obie hesitated. There were some things about his work in the Corps and in Doctors Without Borders that he'd long ago decided not to share with his sister or his nephew. Rwanda was near the top of that list. But Blair wasn't letting this go.

"What I told you was true, Blair. I was on my way to catch a plane out of Rwanda. There was a nice family near one of the villages who put me up for a couple nights. I didn't know who they were. The wife, Nysa was her name I think, was eight months pregnant. Malnourished. I was worried she would lose the baby, so I stayed a few days longer. And she went into early labor. I ended up having to do an emergency c-section right there. God, it was a nightmare. We were too far from any hospitals, the hut was filthy, I didn't have the right supplies. I was halfway through when the rebels came looking for Nysa and her husband." Obie gripped the steering wheel tighter, hoping he could hide his shudder from Blair. "I couldn't run, couldn't let her bleed to death, couldn't let the baby die. The rebels took me prisoner, too. Friend of my enemy is my enemy kind of thing, I guess."

"How long?"

"Two weeks."

Blair's tone was softer, some of the anger abated. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Obie laughed. "Tell Mount Saint Naomi? Are you kidding? I'd have been safer with the rebels." Blair stared back, waiting. "I didn't tell you or Naomi because I couldn't change who I was. I knew it was dangerous, and I accepted the risks because I was doing something I believed in. I didn't want you both to worry every time I took a job that something like that was going to happen to me."

Blair could certainly understand that. "Why didn't you tell me, then? I was an adult by that time. I thought we were supposed to be straight with each other."

Obie arched an eyebrow. "Do you tell Naomi and me everything that's happened to you since you started hanging around the police version of the A-Team? Have you even told me the real reason you flushed your doctorate and your career down the tubes? I mean, 'excitement'? I'm supposed to buy that?"

"That is so not the same..."

"Isn't it? Carrying a gun and a badge is a long way from Anthropology. C'mon! I thought we were supposed to be straight with each other."

Blair turned back towards the window. "Things got--complicated..."

Obie asked again, "Was it because of Jim?"

Blair rubbed his eyes, resisting the urge to bang his forehead against the dashboard. "I'm not a six year old kid with a case of hero-worship. No one 'made' me become a cop." Obie could always spot him in a lie, but he couldn't tell Obie the whole truth. What could he say, then? He quit to protect Jim? Yeah, right, and prove Obie's point... "I started working with the Cascade P.D. because Jim agreed to share some of his experiences with the Chopec in Peru with me for my research. I did some consultant work with the department in exchange for the help. When Rainier gave me the boot, Simon offered me a full-time job."

"But your doctorate--"

"My research could have caused problems for some of my test subjects if their identities were revealed. I promised that I'd protect them, but it eventually became apparent that I couldn't. You see, the University didn't care that publishing my work could destroy people, just as long as they could bask in the glory of what a great researcher they'd produced. When I realized that, I had to make a choice between my doctorate and keeping my word. What would you have done?"

Oh, that was a cheap shot. "But a cop, Blair?"

Blair smiled. "I know it can be dangerous, and I accept the risks because I'm doing something I believe in."

Obie felt the weight of his own words thrown back into his face. Stunned, he pulled into a parking space near the back door to Blair's building. Even after setting the parking brake, he couldn't come up with an adequate response that didn't sound hypocritical.

Megan stood on the sidewalk, waiting. "What kept you boys?"

"Obie never drives faster than twenty-five." Blair had to work at opening the passenger door. When it popped open, Brody bounded over Blair and leaped for the sidewalk.

"Have you seen what I'm driving? I'm afraid the thing will fly apart if I drive any faster." Obie circled around to the passenger side of the van. Blair had already slid open the main door. "Oh, man, it looks so empty in here." Obie stared unhappily at what was left of his meditation kits. "The Feds have all my best kits. I swear, if there's one scratch on any of them, I'm writing to my Congressman... it's still Tuberman, right?"

"I think you're off by a decade or three," Blair answered.

Megan was counting the boxes, dismayed by the number still left inside. They were going to have to open and check each one. "How many of these kits do you have?"

"Minus the ones sold or lifted by Feds and skittish young thieves, about eighty," Obie guessed.

Megan sighed, "This could take a bit."

Major Crimes

Jim sighed as he hung up the phone. He didn't have any luck reaching his Interpol contact, while his FBI contact had been nearly as confused as he was. What on earth is going on? Thinking hard, Jim decided he had one more source to check out before going home to meditation kits that probably contained sage.

Obie's van

Blair wearily leaned back against the seat, staring at the opened kit in front of him. "That's all of them and no diamond. We must be missing something. Are you sure it wasn't in one of the boxes you sold?"

Obie shook his head. "Positive."

"Did you keep a record of people you sold kits to today?" Blair inquired, reaching for a notebook.

"Well..."

Blair threw up his hands in disgust. "You didn't, did you?"

Obie sighed, then confessed, "I didn't sell any to keep a record of, okay?"

Blair looked surprised. "Oh."

To smooth over the awkward moment, Megan gently inserted, "Maybe Mallory was wrong-- maybe it's in the van, not in the boxes. Did you notice anything unusual about the van when you left the wharf?"

Obie paused a moment in thought. "Wait a minute--one of the boxes had a broken latch. I think I stuck it under the seat so I'd remember not to sell it before it was fixed." He slipped out the side to enter through the passenger's door. Drawing the box out from under the seat, Obie gently opened the slices. "Oh, ho, man, anyone want to run off to Rio? How about it, Meg?" Leaning forward, he held up a fist-size diamond so that Megan and Blair could see it.

"Let me see it," Megan requested. After Obie handed it to her, she flicked on her pocket flashlight to examine it. "Simply breath-taking. Must be well over 45 carats, cut is perfect, colorless, oh dear, I really need my loupe to determine clarity." Megan studied the stone a moment more. "You know, diamonds this large are usually well-known, especially if they are missing. Sandy, mind if I use your computer?" At Blair's nod, Megan jumped out and rushed towards the building doors.

Obie queried, "'Sandy'?"

Blair shot him a glare. "Don't start."

Downtown Cascade

It hadn't taken long to finish writing up the report on the incident at the fair. Jim made a quick detour to the nearest Fleet Foot store, then headed downtown. Sure enough, Jim found the bedraggled man at his favorite donut shop. Jim crossed the room and, by way of greeting, deposited a shoebox on the table in front of the man.

Sneaks looked at the shoebox, momentarily startled, then glanced up at Jim. He broke out in an ear to ear grin. Sneaks shook his hand enthusiastically. "Hey, if it isn't my favorite superhero of Cascade's finest! What's up, man? No sidekick today?"

Jim clapped him on the shoulder, then took a seat across the table. "I think he's trying to protect his new Nikes." Despite the odd payment that Sneaks demanded in exchange for information, Jim knew that not much went on in the city--especially around the waterfront--that the snitch didn't hear about.

Sneaks eagerly peeked into the shoebox. "So, what'd you bring me? Ooh, air pump high tops! How 90s! Very nice. Whatever you want to know, it must be important, eh?"

Jim moved the shoes just out of reach. "First things first: what have you heard about a mob- accountant and a jewel thief being killed on the waterfront last night?"

The snitch thought about that for a moment. "I didn't know about a jewel thief, but I do know about the unfortunate Mr. Acampos. Deplorable taste in shoes. Loafers with tassels, what's that about?" Jim raised an eyebrow impatiently. Sneaks continued, "Let's just say that those of us seeking refuge on the wharf have had to look elsewhere for accommodations. And I don't just mean because of the Feds poking around."

"The Dante Family?"

"For starters. However, there is another, shall we say, 'family' interested." Sneaks looked around, making sure none of the few people in the donut shop was too interested in their chat. "Do you know the Tang family?" Jim shook his head. "Well, I'm not surprised. They're nothing if not discreet about their activities. They came to Cascade four years ago to get ahead of the Reds, if you know what I mean."

"Before Hong Kong was handed back to the Chinese?"

"Apparently, Mr. Tang didn't want to share his ill-gotten gain with the communists. But that's just part of it. Word is that Mr. Acampos was on that wharf to receive property belonging to the Tang family. I don't know what it was, but the Tangs have been very determined in their efforts to track down those responsible for its theft. The assumption is that Acampos had something to do with it, which is why he met an unfortunate end last night... and that the Dante family must have been the ones interested in acquiring the misappropriated property."

A mob war. Great. Jim let that sink in, then sighed. This gets better and better.

Sneaks was staring at the shoebox, bouncing a bit. "Does that help you?"

"It might. Thanks, man." Jim passed the box over to him.

Sneaks all but dove for the high tops, "Anytime, detective."

Twenty minutes later, outside Ellison's loft

There it is! Taylor nearly wilted with relief when he spotted the rusty van in the parking lot. Tossing the electronic tracker into the Escort's passenger's seat, he searched for a place to park.

It had been a long afternoon for the thief. After dodging the cop at the fair, Taylor managed to grab a bus to the hotel, only to find that there were Interpol agents swarming around it. For a couple of minutes, Taylor debated on simply skipping the country and finding a new identity. However, a phone call from the Dante family's new representative squashed that thought. It was bad enough having the Tangs mad at him, he didn't need the Dantes after him, too. So he had fallen back to plan C--locate the van again and wait until it was unoccupied and isolated. Thankfully, he had had the foresight at the fair to plant one of his toys on an uncorroded spot of the van's back bumper.

After driving for nearly two hours before picking up the signal, it looked like Taylor's bad luck streak had finally turned. The lot was quiet and Dr. Sandburg was nowhere to be seen. Shaking off his growing fatigue, Taylor slipped around the parked cars to his goal, ducking behind a Forerunner when an ancient blue and white truck drove through. The young thief quickly checked the van windows to make sure no one was inside, then pulled out his set of skeleton keys. It would probably be faster to break a window, but Taylor didn't want to damage Dr. Sandburg's vehicle. He felt bad enough for having to punch him.

"Looking for something?"

Startled, Taylor spun around to find the cop from the fair. The blue eyes seemed to drill a hole through him as an evil smile let the young thief know how much the man was enjoying the situation. Feeling his dwindling energy flow out of him with the slump of his shoulders, Taylor knew he had just crashed and burned. Sorry, Dein.

Ellison's Loft

After borrowing a magnifying glass from Blair, Megan curled up on the couch to study the diamond and compare it to the information on the internet.

"I didn't know you knew about diamonds," Blair commented as he placed a cup of tea on the coffee table beside her.

Megan shrugged absently as she continued to work. "Australia is one of the leading producers of diamonds. I learned a lot after a couple of diamond theft cases."

Blair studied the stone, amazed at how easily it picked up the light in the room. "How much do you think it's worth?"

"Oh, at least twenty million of your American dollars."

Obie nearly choked on the herbal tea he was drinking. "Million? Man, I know some small countries that could survive on that for a decade. Maybe two."

"Yeah, but what we really need to know is who does it belong to and why was it in your van," Blair pointed out.

"Maybe Mike Tyson here can shed some light on that."

Everyone looked up to see Jim enter the loft, pushing a handcuffed Mallory ahead of him. Defensively, Taylor checked out the others in the room, only to blanch when he recognized Obie and his black eye. Brody planted himself between the thief and his master, snarling viciously. Unperturbed, Jim steered Taylor towards the couch. "Sit down, slugger."

"Where'd he come from?" Obie wanted to know.

"He seemed to have lost something in your van, Obie," Jim said.

"Ah, something like this maybe?" Blair held up the diamond, hiding his grin at the young thief's dismay.

Obie crossed the room to take a seat on the coffee table. "When you said you had financial problems, I guess you weren't kidding." Taylor didn't meet his eyes, stared down at the floor instead.

"Oh you don't know the half of it," Jim told him. "I just talked to our old friend, Sneaks. It cost me a good pair of high tops, but he told me a very interesting story about how Acampos was on that wharf waiting for Dein Mallory to bring him something that belonged to the Tang Family. Family in the Don Corleone sense of the word." If that was news to Taylor, the young man didn't show it.

Obie shook his head. "You stole a diamond that large from one mob family to give to another mob family and then lost it? Kid, you've got bigger problems than just money."

Jim was still scrutinizing the young man with one of his unnerving stares. "I'm willing to bet that the Tangs had something to do with your cousin's murder. I need to know what you know about the diamond and what happened last night."

Taylor still stared at the floor. "I want my lawyer."

"We're trying to help you, Taylor," Blair explained softly.

Taylor said nothing.

"What about your cousin, Taylor? Right now, the Feds think you killed him," Jim pressed.

Horrified, Taylor looked up. "I wouldn't--I'd never--!"

"I know that." It was Obie who answered. He steadied a stern uncle gaze at Blair. "Do we need these cuffs?"

"Yeah, I think so," Jim stated firmly.

Obie spared him an irritated glare, then turned back to Taylor. "Taylor, I know you didn't kill your cousin. But if you don't help Jim and Blair," Obie nodded to each detective in turn, "find out who did, you're going to go down for it. We want to find whoever did kill Dein, but that just isn't going to happen if we don't know all the facts. If you've got any idea what went on at that wharf last night or who killed Dein, you've got to tell them."

Taylor considered this a long while before grudgingly agreeing. "I don't know who killed him... We were on the wharves to deliver The Dawn to Acampos." Taylor bobbed his head towards the diamond, sending Megan into a frenzy on the computer. "Supposedly, the Tangs unfairly obtained The Dawn from the Dantes, and the Dantes wanted it back. It's supposed to be lucky or something." Taylor snorted, looking down. "It wasn't lucky for Dein. I was doing surveillance a couple of piers over when someone came up from behind, hit me, knocked me out... so I never saw his face. But I've got his voice on tape. Dein..." the young man's voice cracked. Jim could read the grief and fatigue in his face. "He, he always had me back him up when he met a buyer. You never know who's going to pull a double-cross, can't be too careful. We taped all the deliveries. Dein wore a wire, I ran the recorder."

"He was wired last night?" Jim asked.

Taylor nodded. "When I woke up, when I realized what had happened..." The boy took a deep, shaky breath. Obie reached over and clasped his shoulder, offering what comfort he could. "...The recorder got everything. Including Dr. Sandburg's license plate number. It was the last thing Dein said over the wire before he..." Taylor finally lost his composure. Obie rubbed the tense shoulder as the young man fought tears. Jim and Blair traded glances over their heads.

Megan softly broke the gloomy silence. "I found it. The Dawn was originally owned by Dennis and Patsy St. John in New Zealand. They loaned it for display at several museums in Australia up until they died in 1985. It says the diamond went to a relative in the U.S. in 1986. However, when that relative died in a car accident in 1990, The Dawn was missing from his estate. No one knows what happened to it."

"Perhaps used as payment on a debt to the Dante family?" Blair suggested. "Certainly no one would want a record of that kind of transaction."

After a moment's pause, Jim gently informed Taylor, "We're going to need that tape."

Taylor shook his head. "No, no way, man."

"Taylor--" Obie said.

"That tape is the only thing I have to bargain with." With the cops, with the mob...

"We can get you a deal. We can make sure you're protected," Blair put in.

Taylor laughed outright. "I don't trust cops."

"I'm not a cop. Do you trust me?" Obie asked. "We're the best friends you have right now, Taylor. I don't usually trust cops either, but I'll give you my word. Jim, Blair, and Megan, they will find out who killed Dein. And we'll all go to bat for you with the court, but you've got to meet us halfway, man."

Taylor looked at each in turn, then back to Obie, his indecision plain. "In my car. Down one block. In the glove box."

Ten minutes later, Jim returned with the tape, Simon following him in. "Where is our 'protected witness'?" the captain asked.

"He's in on my bed," Blair replied, nodding his head towards the doors. "Uncle Obie's in there with him, filling him up with spiced ginseng tea and talking to him about his cousin." He chuckled to himself at Taylor's reaction to the first sip of Obie's spiced cure-all tea. It had been all Taylor could do, as his eyes watered, not to spit the stuff out. He noticed Jim tilt his head a moment, then continue towards the stereo.

Simon frowned. "Is that wise? That kid's a flight risk if I've ever seen one."

"No worries, Captain," Megan replied with a large grin. "I handcuffed him to the bed."

Blair chuckled again, remembering his uncle's face as the older man had struggled to protest while still taken by Megan's charms. "Besides, I think Taylor's too tired to try much right now. I think everything's catching up to him."

"So let's hear what started his nightmare," Jim suggested as he punched the 'on' button. Together, the detectives and their captain listened to the final minutes of Dein Mallory's life.

As the tape ran out, Blair cleared his throat. "Sounds like Acampos knew his murderer."

"Yet Dein Mallory didn't," Megan added. "Or else he would have tried to warn Taylor with more than a vague, 'watch your back'."

"That still doesn't give us much," Simon pointed out. "All we really have is a double homicide and a witness who was unconscious during the killings. In fact, even now the only thing we could possibly charge Taylor Mallory with is delivery of stolen goods, and then we have no proof the diamond was stolen."

Blair shrugged. "And it's unlikely the Tangs or the Dantes are going to report it stolen, since neither can prove THEY have it legally." Then he noticed Jim rewinding the tape. "Jim?"

"Shhh." Jim carefully listened to the portion where the killer confronted the victims. He then rewound it, and played it again.

"You got something, Jim?" Blair asked.

Jim shook his head. "That voice is familiar, but I can't place it."

"Okay," Blair replied, shifting into his guide-mode voice, "why don't we play the tape again, and have you filter out all extraneous noise..."

Jim closed his eyes, concentrating only on the noises from the tape. "There! Footsteps walking away, then there's a voice distant from the microphone. Turn up the volume."

Blair turned the stereo's volume to max. Sure enough, a voice could be faintly heard, having a one-sided conversation as though the killer was talking into a phone or cell phone.

"I can't quite make out what he's saying..." Jim said.

"He's speaking in one of the Chinese dialects. I can't quite make it out either," Blair said.

"That definitely points to our killer being from the Tang family," Jim added.

"What should we do now, sir?" Megan asked Simon.

Simon scowled in thought. "Arrange transport to put The Dawn in a secured location, and place Mallory into a safe house until we have a better handle on the situation."

"What do we tell the Feds?"

"Nothing, unless they ask. And then as little as possible. Megan, take a copy of that tape down to the station and see if you can find someone to interpret it." Simon turned to Jim and Blair. "I want you down at the piers. Check out Taylor's hiding place. If we're lucky, you may find something there that the Feds missed."

Half hour later, Ellison's truck

Blair had made a second copy of Taylor's recording, which he had played and replayed on the drive to the wharf. Finally, though, he admitted defeat. He wasn't sure this was the same dialect he had learned, and Mandarin had never been one of his better languages. "I can't make it out. Man, I hope we find something at those piers." Blair drummed his fingers on the passenger's arm rest. "Except for the voice you think sounds familiar, we're running zip on clues."

Jim shrugged as he turned the corner. "If we don't, something will come to us. Right now, we're holding all the cards."

"Yeah, The Dawn and Mallory." The drumming picked up speed. "I can't BELIEVE how Obie is acting. I mean, the guy PUNCHED him, and now Obie's all 'poor kid'."

"I don't know. Makes perfect sense to me."

Blair turned to Jim in shock. "What?"

Jim shrugged again. "What if Taylor had slugged you instead of Obie? How would you feel then?"

"Well, of course I'd... well... I'd..." Blair threw up his hands. "Okay, I wouldn't be upset. But I'm young and can defend myself. Obie wouldn't hurt anyone, Jim."

Jim struggled to keep from smiling. "Oh, I'd say your uncle has been in his share of fights and can defend himself. Just like his nephew."

Blair thought a long moment. Then he glanced at his partner. "Is this how you feel when I get friendly with potential felons?"

"Every single time."

Jim parked the truck next to pier #46. Stepping out into the cold air, Blair zipped up his jacket and shoved his hands into his pockets. Glancing around, he commented, "pretty quiet right now."

Jim glanced at his watch. "Yeah, it's close to the time Obie was here. No wonder there were no witnesses."

"Taylor said he was positioned by the next to the last pylon?"

"Yep," Jim replied, his sentinel senses already on alert.

Blair fell in step behind his partner, allowing Jim to scan the area as they walked to the spot. Jim knelt down, touching a dark stain on the wood plank. "Blood. Did Obie check Taylor's head wound?"

"Yeah. Small cut and a nice size bump, but Obie didn't think he had a concussion or anything." Squinting across the water at the next pier, Blair observed softly, "This is a good place for a lookout."

"The best one for sighting the exchange on Pier 45," Jim agreed, surveying the area. "Which indicates whoever hit Taylor probably knew how he and his cousin operated, and thus where to look for him."

Blair paused a moment. "Would the Dantes or the Tangs know that?"

"Maybe. The Feds and Interpol might know their MO, too."

"Ah, man," Blair shook his head in disgust. "I do NOT like that idea."

"Neither do I, Chief. Neither do I. Especially considering Okuma is over there at the exchange site now."

"What?" Blair exclaimed.

"Let's go see what our not-so-friendly Fed is doing."

Okuma glared at the partners as they approached. "What are you doing here?"

Blair shrugged nonchalantly. "Due to all the heat, Homicide kicked the murders up to us. So we're doing our duty and checking out the scene."

"However, that doesn't explain why YOU are here," Jim added pointedly.

A faint look of unease crossed the agent's face before Okuma turned away. "I'm trying to get a better feel of what happened. Like where Taylor Mallory could have hidden before killing his cousin and Acampos."

"That's easy. Taylor Mallory wasn't here, he was on the next pier over," Blair explained.

Okuma turned to the young detective in surprise. Monitoring his heart rate, Jim knew he wasn't faking it. "What? But they found Mallory's gloves by the lamp post over there."

"No." Jim shook his head. "From Mallory's statement, he was monitoring the exchange from the next pier over. The evidence corroborates his story. In fact, the evidence indicates that the Tang family might be the real killers."

Dumbfounded, Okuma looked from one detective to the other. "I'm not Judge Ito, Detective, so don't tell me stories about 'real killers'. My evidence has Taylor's fingerprints on the murder weapon and his gloves--with Acampos' and Dein's blood on them--at the murder scene." His expression darkened.

Jim shook his head, "C'mon, Okuma. You've been in this game long enough to know a frame-up when you see one. Do you really think someone bright enough to by-pass security systems around the world without getting caught is dumb enough to leave his gloves and the weapon at a crime scene? Hell, there's nothing in Mallory's MO to suggest the kid has ever touched a gun."

Okuma had no response to that.

Blair and Jim exchanged a look. At Jim's nod, Blair produced the hand-held tape recorder. Okuma began to ask a question, then paused to listen. His expression changed from anger, to surprise, and finally, as the killer spoke, to a completely unreadable look.

"We're having it translated now--" Blair began.

Okuma interrupted, "He's talking to his grandfather. Apologizing for failing to find The Dawn, telling him that those responsible have been punished, promising to find the gem." The agent's features faltered for a moment, but only a moment. A stoic expression replaced it. "I owe your uncle an apology, Detective Sandburg. It would seem his instincts about Mr. Mallory were better than mine..."

"You recognize the voice?" Jim guessed.

Okuma nodded, his face grim. "When I was in the D.E.A., I busted a cocaine ring in San Francisco's Chinatown. One of the workers decided to turn evidence instead of serving the full jail time. He told us that the Tang family ran their ring and that they had someone on the inside of the FBI I was reassigned to the Bureau to find out who it was, with Keane as my partner since he is an expert on Chinese gangs. Recently, I started getting suspicious when--"

Hearing the faint click of a safety being released, Jim suddenly turned, pulling his gun. "Show yourself!"

Meanwhile, elsewhere on the waterfront

Simon parked next to Jim's truck and stepped out into the cold air. Glancing around, he immediately spotted what he was searching for. Muttering an oath, he walked over to the van barely concealed in the shadows. His approach went unnoticed by the man behind the wheel. Obie nearly jumped out of his skin when Simon crept up and banged loudly against the driver's window.

Obie opened the door. "Sheesh! Is giving someone a heart attack considered police brutality?"

"What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay at the loft with Mallory." On the other hand, when did anyone in the Sandburg family ever do what they were told?

Obie climbed out of his van. "Yeah, and I promised Taylor I'd make sure the murderer was found. When I give my word, I follow through." The older Sandburg squirmed a bit under the captain's disapproving glare.

"Your nephew and Ellison are my best team. If there's anything to find, they'll find it."

Obie turned to the police captain in surprise. "Best team? Blair's just a rookie."

Bank's laugh was deep and hearty. "Ellison and Sandburg were my best team BEFORE Blair quit the university and went to the academy. As far as I was concerned, the only training the kid needed was in weapons. And even though Blair made marksman, I know his best weapon is still his golden tongue. Besides, Ellison shoots enough for both of them."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Hell, no. Those two complement each other. Together, they gave Ellison the best crime- solved record in the city. Now, your nephew can get his fair share of the credit."

Pier 45

Keane stepped out of the shadows, his own weapon trained on the detective. "Aren't we overreacting a bit? Though I want all of you to drop your guns." Blair carefully withdrew his empty hands from his pockets, holding them out from his sides. Jim, seeing the gun trained on his partner, carefully dropped his own.

Okuma followed suit, though anger stiffened his movements. "What are you doing here, Keane? You were suppose to be finishing up those reports."

Keane laughed. "And let you go out by yourself and find something you shouldn't? You should have left well enough alone instead of listening to these local idiots."

"I'd say their instincts are better than mine. It's you, isn't it? You planted the gloves and fed me the false reports."

Keane sadly shook his head. "I honestly hoped you wouldn't catch on, Okuma. Now I'm going to have to kill you as well as the two detectives."

"You aren't going to get away with this," Blair pointed out, covertly surveying the area for anything that could be used to their advantage.

"Why not? I already have everyone believing Mallory killed his cousin. Why not you three as well? Nobody's going to believe that thief."

"Considering Mallory is in police custody at the moment, your story won't hold," Jim quietly pointed out as he waited for an opening.

"I'll figure something out," Keane replied.

"Why, Paul? Why are you doing this?" Okuma asked, voice full of angry confusion.

"My cousin won The Dawn in a poker game from one of the Dantes' slower family members. The Dantes are now trying to claim that he cheated and that the Tangs should return it." Keane snorted at the absurd idea. "My grandfather likes having some American luck, so he refused. Then the Dantes hired the Mallory cousins to steal it. Someone had to get it back, and my grandfather asked me."

"You would risk your career for those thugs?" Okuma asked, incredulous.

"They are my family!" Keane retorted.

"Great, a Fed with a mob family," Blair muttered under his breath.

As Keane turned towards Sandburg angrily, the Seven O'clock Cannon thundered across the water. Startled, Keane lost his grip on his gun, allowing Jim to drop and roll to his own weapon. Realizing he was in trouble, Keane raced off the pier. Ellison shot, then jumped to his feet to give chase.

Simon paused as the Seven O'clock Cannon signaled the time.

Obie blinked, stunned that his Blair could be that good a cop. Before he could ask another question, both men heard gunfire.

"Get back in the van," Simon shouted, drawing his weapon. Spotting Keane racing off the pier, Banks searched the area with his eyes for a suspect. Keane jumped onto a nearby motorcycle, turned the engine, and shot down the waterfront.

Confused, Simon then spotted Ellison slide to a stop off the pier. Before he could call to his detective, Jim dashed over to a man about to get on another motorcycle. It was Obie's friend, Gene. "Excuse me, police business." Before Gene could say more than 'Wha...?" Ellison had grabbed the bike and was racing after Keane.

"Sorry, Uncle Gene," Blair shouted with a wave as he and Okuma arrived on the scene.

"Sandburg!" Simon barked. Blair raced over to him, shouting, "Follow Jim!" with Okuma on his heels. Knowing when to shut up and drive, Simon jumped into the van as Blair and Okuma slid into the back. "What the hell is going on?" Simon barked as he put the car in gear.

"Keane's the murderer," Blair panted.

"I should point out that this is not a pursuit vehicle--" Obie's protest was drowned out as the engine chugged, then roared to life, and the van lurched forward.

Jim was gaining ground with his borrowed bike, dodging crates as he narrowed Keane's lead. Keane glanced back, then ran up a couple of planks resting on a pile of concrete blocks. Flying over the water, he landed on the next pier. Though the bike skidded left then right, he managed to straighten it out and keep going.

Taking a deep breath, Jim gunned the engine and followed Keane. His landing was smoother, allowing him to gain another precious second on his perp.

From the van, Obie whistled. "Did I just see what I thought I saw?" He winced as several of his kits slid across the van as Simon maneuvered a sharp left.

Concentrating on his partner's chase, Blair simply replied with a worried, "yep."

Jim was still several yards behind the crooked agent when a forklift drove in front of the pair. Jim managed to hit the brakes and stop in time, but Keane wasn't so lucky. The bike skidded, then fell to the left, slamming its passenger into the wooden flooring before sliding into the forklift. Slowly, Keane sat up holding his left shoulder, only to find Ellison standing there with his cuffs. "Agent Paul Keane? You are under arrest for the murder of Dein Mallory and Alberto Acampos. You have the right to remain silent..."