They made it in twenty minutes, and for once Blair didn't complain about Jim's driving, although Jim couldn't help but notice the white-knuckled grip his partner had on the door handle. Simon and Rafe pulled up behind him, followed by a couple of patrol cars.

Jim scanned the surrounding rooftops and alleys with both eyes and ears, noting with absent approval that Blair had his gun out and was performing his own visual inspection. The kid constantly proved himself to be a partner Jim could rely on. The inspection yielded nothing more dangerous than a flock of pigeons on the roof directly across from the building they'd been directed to, but Jim couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.

"Keep your eyes open, Chief," he said softly as he and Blair moved to join the other officers. "No telling what we're walking into here."

"Don't worry, man, this situation has my undivided attention." Blair's calm tone didn't match his tense expression. Jim bumped him lightly on the shoulder with his fist, coaxing a weak grin out of Blair.

"Taggart and Connor are following as soon as they get a copy of the building plans and find out who it belongs to," Simon said as they gathered beside his car. "They're also going to make a quick run by Brown's house to see if they can find anything useful there. I've also got a couple of people looking into any recently released perps who might have a grudge against Ellison or Brown. In the meantime, we'll just have to proceed with caution and maintain radio contact as much as possible to avoid duplicating our efforts while we search the building."

Jim looked up at the building. As Blair had said, it was located in the warehouse district, just on the edge between the abandoned areas and the section still in use. With a touch of unease, Jim realized that they were only a few blocks from the warehouse where Lash had held Blair hostage.

This building was designed to hold offices rather than goods, obviously. Four stories high, it had boarded up windows that indicated it wasn't being used. The painted trim around the front door still looked in reasonably good repair, though, and the ornamental shrubbery lining the front of the building was still healthy and neatly pruned. Apparently the building hadn't been abandoned long.

"Keep in mind as we go in that we don't know what we'll find. Detective Brown is probably in there somewhere, though, so watch yourselves and don't get trigger-happy." Simon concluded his briefing with a searching glance around the circle of men surrounding him, checking for readiness.

Jim gave him a brief nod. "I'd like to take point, sir, if that's all right?"

"Be my guest, Detective."

Jim moved cautiously away from the safety of the cars, Blair and Rafe only a step behind him. Jim could hear Rafe's heart pounding, but they were almost at the building, and Jim didn't have time to say anything to him. They fanned out, Jim and Blair on one side of the boarded up glass doors and Rafe and Simon on the other. Blair, who was closest to the handle, waited for Simon's nod before gingerly reaching out to test if the door was unlocked.

The door slid open easily, but before anyone could move, a piece of white paper fluttered down from where it had apparently been attached to the inside of the door. With a sigh that was almost resigned, Blair reached down and picked it up, handing it wordlessly to Jim.

The now familiar laser printing stood out starkly against the white of the paper. Jim had to force his eyes to focus past the contrasting colors to see the message.

"'Ellison and his partner only. You have one hour until Detective Brown dies.'" Jim read the words aloud, then handed the note to Simon. "Damn it, he's playing games with us."

"We don't have much choice but to go along," Blair said quietly. "He's got us over a barrel here. I'd be happier if we knew what he wanted."

"I'd be happier if I had him alone in a room for ten minutes," Simon growled. "Hell, make it five."

"I'm going in with you."

Jim looked up, catching the tight, stubborn look on Rafe's face. He felt a flash of sympathy, followed almost immediately by impatience. Too much was at stake here for anyone to indulge in pointless grandstanding.

"Bad idea," he said as gently as he could. "We don't know who we're up against here or what he'll do if we don't go along with his little game. I think the best we can do is play along until we have an idea what we're facing."

"Agreed," Simon said. "If we're only working with an hour, we won't be able to cover the building and find Brown in time, even if we call in the S.W.A.T. guys. We can't afford to set this wacko off." He squeezed Rafe's shoulder. "Ellison and Sandburg aren't going to let us down, son."

Rafe looked away, his jaw clenching. "You think I'm not good enough to find my own partner?"

"Rafe," Blair protested.

"This is not the time, Detective," Simon snapped at the same time.

"If it was Sandburg, Ellison wouldn't be staying behind." Rafe brought his gaze back to meet Jim's. "If it was your partner, you wouldn't let anyone go after him but you. Do you think I'm not as good a cop as you?"

Jim felt Blair stiffen beside him, and Simon's eyebrows lowered dangerously. Jim, on the verge of anger, saw the expression in Rafe's eyes, and his anger was gone. He knew the desperation he saw there intimately.

"I think H is caught up in something that has more to do with me than with him. I plan to make sure he gets out of this in one piece. Isn't that more important than worrying about who saves him?"

"I can't just sit back and wait for that asshole to kill him."

"You can and will." Simon's voice was stern, but softened as he continued, "Ellison and Sandburg will go in and get the lay of the land. They've both got their cells, so if they need us, they can call. We'll be right out here, ready to go in if necessary."

"That's not enough," Rafe said helplessly.

"It'll have to be." Simon turned back to Jim. "I want you to call in every thirty minutes, understood?"

Jim nodded, looking at his watch. "We're wasting time. Sandburg, let's go."

The laptop's LCD screen lit the tiny room with a dim glow, casting bizarre shadows on the face of the man watching the scene playing out across it. Two men had just entered the room shown on the video display. One, the older of the two, rubbed his forehead in obvious discomfort. The younger man put a hand on his arm and said something that had the older one shaking his head in either denial or frustration.

Curious, the watcher adjusted the volume. He'd turned it down earlier, not wanting to double the discordant thudding that permeated the building. Five different heartbeats, all pumping at different rhythms, played on a continuous loop. Hopefully, the recordings provided a bit of a distraction for the older of the pair he was watching. If not, the watcher had a few other possibilities up his sleeve, but for now, this one seemed to be doing the job. Funny how such a soothing sound could set one's teeth on edge when the steady tempo became disrupted.

"...can block it out," the younger man was saying. "Just isolate one of the beats and forget about it, then take the next one and the next one until you can ignore them all."

"Easy for you to say," the older one growled, but his shoulders almost immediately relaxed as he closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply.

The watcher smiled faintly. "So you can control it, can you, Ellison? Interesting."

"Better?"

"Yeah, a little."

The younger of the two looked around the room they were in. At one time, it had served as the lobby. Fragments of tastefully understated, graffiti-covered wallpaper still hung from the walls even though the carpeting had been stripped out. Florescent lights, newly replaced when the watcher had turned on and rewired the electricity, lit the room.

Other than the cacophonous heartbeats playing through the PA system, the room remained free of stimuli. In this first step, the watcher had only wanted to prevent any chance of Ellison zeroing in on Brown's voice, heart, or respiration. While it would be interesting to find out for certain if Ellison had the capability of hearing such sounds through the concrete floors, it was too soon for the watcher to lose his edge. If things went as planned, Ellison would be farther away, near the top of the building, when the watcher turned off the tape. Should Ellison be able to hear Brown's vital functions from that distance... such an outcome would prove as fascinating as it was problematic.

"Electricity's on, PA's working. I think we were expected," Sandburg said dryly. "I guess this answers the question why our nutcase is after you. I don't think one of your collars would be using a heartbeat soundtrack against you."

Ellison took another deep breath, opening his eyes. "Okay, it's under control, but now I don't stand a chance of hearing H, either."

"Then you'll just have to use one of your other senses, or else we can just do it the old- fashioned way, one room at a time." Sandburg patted Ellison's arm as he took his hand away. "What do you smell?"

Ellison concentrated, inhaling deeply, then sneezed. "Dust."

Sandburg sighed. "Besides that. Anything to do with H?"

Ellison inhaled again. "Wait a minute. There's something... that paint thinner Henri wears."

Sandburg chuckled. "Guess I know what cologne not to buy you for Christmas. Where is it?"

"Up. That way." Ellison nodded toward the stairwell.

As the two men started off, the watcher smiled. Things were going exactly as he'd planned.

Turning his attention away from the screen, the watcher stood painfully. He stretching the kinks out of his back before reaching down to pick up the infrared goggles and tape recorder he'd be needing. Walking as silently as he could, he went down the hall to the other room, the one where the detective sat in drowsy, drugged defiance.

The watcher had developed a small measure of respect for his captive. Many men would have succumbed complacently to the effects of the drug, which were said to be reasonably pleasant, not unlike a mild dose of laudanum. Detective Brown, however, had struggled against it, refusing to give in to either the sedative lure of the drug or the gentle probing of the watcher.

He was a strong man, was Detective Brown. The watcher would regret killing him, should it prove necessary to do so.

Entering the room, the watcher approached the detective. Brown shifted, seeming to sense his presence.

"'s there?" Brown mumbled, the drug affecting his speech almost beyond understanding. "Whasha wan'?"

The watcher spoke softly through his voice distorter. "I have some questions for you, Detective Brown. Why don't we start with your friend, Detective Ellison."

Jim waited until Blair was in position before reaching out cautiously to pull the handle. As before, the door slid open without even a squeak. Light spilled from the lobby up the dark stairway. A fine layer of dust covered the concrete stairs and drifted off the metal railing, stirred by opening of the door. Jim had to fight not to sneeze again.

"Look at the dust on the stairs," he whispered loudly over the thumping coming from the P.A., gesturing at the stairs with his gun. "It's been scuffed up, like someone's dragged something through here."

"Or tried to cover up their footprints," Blair suggested, his voice raised as well.

"Why do that? It's obvious someone went through here." Jim rubbed at his nose, both to try to relieve the itch and to ward off the headache that was forming from the combined assault of noise and sinuses. "Unless they were trying to cover up how many people went up the stairs? Or there's something unusual about the way they walk."

"Shall we go up and find out?"

"See if you can find a light switch first."

Blair started his search as Jim pushed the door back to the wall and stepped into the stairwell. He took a deep, careful breath. If he ignored the dust, difficult as that was, he could still smell Henri's cologne. Getting a definite direction on it, other than a very generic "up," was harder. Smells were harder to pinpoint than sounds, anyway, because of their tendency to diffuse. He normally had to be pretty close to the source of the scent before he could be sure where it was coming from. Even so, he could usually get an idea of the location.

All he was getting now, though, was up. No matter which way he turned, the strength of the scent was the same. He didn't know if it meant Henri was still too far away to pinpoint or if maybe the smell--and Henri?--was in the airshafts.

Or, a cynical part of him couldn't help but think, the cologne was a trap or test, set to lure him up the stairs and into revealing his abilities.

He sighed, coughing a little as dust drifted into his mouth and settled on his tongue in tiny pieces of bitterness. It wasn't like he had any choice about following the trail that had been left for him. Whoever was behind this insane scavenger hunt was too on top of things not to mean his threat to kill Henri, and Jim didn't dare take the chance that he might not mean it.

"Nothing. They must be controlled from some central station." Blair's voice broke into Jim's thoughts.

"What?"

"The lights. No switch." Blair frowned at him. "Jim, what's going on, man? You're acting kind of distracted today. Are you picking up on something?"

Jim shook his head, but either the question or the movement triggered something. Abruptly he was picking up on something, a scent almost too subtle to register.

"Wait." Jim dropped a hand on Blair's shoulder to forestall any questions, trying to track down the scent. "There's something. I smelled it back at the station, too, but I can't place it."

"What does it smell like?"

"I don't know." Frustrated, Jim ran his hand over his face, trying to wipe the smell away from his nose. "It doesn't really smell like anything, but it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up." He sighed. "We need to get moving. What time is it?"

"10:15."

"Damn."

Shoving his suspicions to the back of his mind, Jim started up the stairs. His shoes rang out against the concrete, followed by the softer thud of Blair's sneakers. Jim realized suddenly that his footsteps were trying to fall into the rhythm of the heartbeats playing through the P.A., but there were too many rhythms and he kept getting out of sync. He would swear the noise was getting louder, too.

"Hey, Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been thinking..."

Jim waited a second, but Blair didn't continue. "What?"

"I was thinking about the tests I gave you when we were first trying to find out how your senses worked." Blair paused.

Jim looked back at him, noting absently that the light from the door had grown dimmer to the point that Blair had to squint.

"And?"

"I could be wrong, but... this thing with the heart beating? That's more like the tests where we worked on blocking out stimuli than like the ones where we were just trying to measure your abilities."

Jim waited again, but whatever connection Blair was trying to get him to see wasn't revealing itself.

"And?"

Blair sighed. "We worked on filtering things after we had some idea of your abilities. After we knew for sure that you had heightened senses and more or less what they amounted to."

Jim felt his stomach tighten. "So you're saying this guy knows about me?"

"Maybe. Probably." Blair's voice was tight with worry or misery, Jim couldn't tell which. "It's not exactly a huge leap of logic, after all that press with my dissertation."

"I thought we agreed to put that behind us," Jim said, forcing his voice to stay even so Blair wouldn't mistake his anger at the situation for anger at Blair. They'd worked out a lot of things in the months after Blair's press conference, but somehow the whole mess kept popping up when he least expected it.

As if reading his mind, Blair asked bitterly, "Then why does it keep jumping up and biting us in the ass?"

Before Jim could think of a suitable answer, the stairwell abruptly faded into total darkness.

"Jim?" Blair reached up and grabbed the back of Jim's jacket. "I'm guessing you didn't prop the door open with anything?"

"You were the last one in," Jim pointed out. "We've got to keep moving. I don't think we were that far from the top. You game to keep going?"

"Can you see anything?"

Jim blinked, letting his eyes relax to take in as much light as possible. "Not really. I don't suppose you've got anything like a flashlight on you?"

"Nope. We could go back for one."

"That would waste too much time. I think we can make it. It should be a straight shot. Just don't let go of my jacket, and I'll see if I can't get us there in one piece."

"Blind leading the blind, huh?" Blair sounded amused. "Lead on, MacDuff."

"You're enjoying this way too much, Chief."

"Just whistling in the dark, man."

"Funny, Sandburg. If there were any light, you could see me holding in the laughter."

Jim waited until Blair had joined him on his stair, then set off again, moving slowly to accommodate their steps. In this close proximity, Blair's breathing served as a steady counterpoint to the constant thumping, giving Jim something to focus on so he could filter out the noise from the P.A.

"Anyway, I was thinking," Blair continued as if he'd never left off, "if this whacko knows about your senses and really is trying to find out your limitations..."

"We're probably going to get more sensory attacks." Jim nodded even though Blair couldn't see him. "Well, if they're about the same level as this one, it won't be anything I can't handle."

"I just think we should be prepared. This might just be the first phase, and he could be intensifying with each step."

Jim frowned uneasily. "You really think..."

The whisper of electrical surge was the only warning he had. A second later, a rainbow of lights danced with disco intensity off the walls, advancing and receding, sparkling across his face, pulling him up toward them through air that was suddenly solid colors...

"Jim? Come on, man, this is really a bad time for this."

The voice--Sandburg, a fuzzy part of his mind supplied--wove its way into the mosaic of color, gently slicing through the rays of the rainbow and leading him through.

"You gotta focus somewhere else, Jim. You know the drill. Listen to my... no, probably a bad idea with that soundtrack playing. Sorry, man, I wasn't thinking."

Jim felt a gentle pat on his shoulder.

"Try focusing on my hand, okay? You can feel it on your arm, right? Focus on that and forget about the lights. They're nothing, not even there. Just focus on my hand."

His eyes were so dry it hurt to blink. He realized that the dark form blocking most of the light display was Blair, leaning over him. A second later, he placed the warm lumps underneath him as Blair's legs and realized he was lying on the stairs and almost in Blair's lap. Blair had an arm hooked under his to keep him from sliding down and was rubbing Jim's other arm with his free hand.

"Hey, you back with me, man?" Blair squeezed his arm one last time before shifting to help him sit up. "God, I thought we were both going to end up at the bottom of the stairs."

"How long have I..."

"Cover your eyes or something, okay? Maybe five minutes."

Jim closed his eyes against the allure of the lights, trying to shove down the fear that shot through him. He stood, pulling Blair up with him.

"That makes it 10:20, 10:25, right? We're running out of time here, Chief." Jim cracked an eye open but had to shut it immediately. "Feel up to leading the way this time?"

"Sure. We're almost at the top anyway."

Jim put his hand on Blair's shoulder and kept his eyes clenched shut as he followed his partner upwards.

"Okay, we're here. And what do you know, the door's not locked."

Jim could hear the faint rub of the hinges as Blair pulled the door open. He reached out to feel for the doorframe, but before he could touch it, the flashing lights shut down and the stairwell sank into total darkness again.

Opening his eyes, Jim saw that the next room--or hall, or whatever it was--had no lights, either. While it was a definite improvement over the disco rainbow they'd been subjected to a few minutes ago, Jim couldn't help but wonder what "surprises" were waiting for them in the blackness.

Inhaling carefully, Jim caught the scent of Henri's cologne again, but he couldn't come any closer to pinpointing it than before. If anything, it smelled like it was coming from the entire floor.

"I'm not getting anything specific on the cologne. Looks like we'll have to check the entire floor. You go right, I'll go left, and we'll see what we find," Jim said as he stepped through the door. "Looks like your "thinking" was right, Chief."

"The tests? Yeah, that was a pretty blatant sensory overload, wasn't it?"

"He knows just what buttons to push. I'm getting a little tired of it, too."

Jim reached out to touch the wall by the doorway, feeling along it to the corner and then following it down to a door frame. "I'm guessing we're in a hallway. You finding doors?"

"Good guess." Blair's voice drifted through the darkness. "Mine are all locked. How about you?"

"Same here." Jim stopped, reaching up to rub his nose as the dust started to get to him again. The sneeze hit him so suddenly he couldn't stop it, and he realized his fingers were covered with dust as well.

"Bless you. It's going to take a whole lot longer than thirty minutes to check all these rooms."

"Maybe." Jim rubbed his hand against his jeans. "Maybe there's a way to narrow this down a little. The dust on the stairs had footprints in it..."

"But you can't see any prints in the dark, man. Even your eyes aren't that good."

"No, but I can feel them. Not the prints themselves, but the doorknobs. Whichever doors have been opened lately shouldn't have dust on the knobs."

Jim could picture Blair's frown as he thought it through.

"That could work. Can you really tell the difference?"

Jim's nose twitched, and he couldn't help sniffing. "Believe me, I can tell."