Date: Thu, 10 Apr 1997 22:31:23 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2 (06/12) To: FKFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #10 Episode Title: "The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2" "Air" Date: April 3, 1997 Author: Susan M. Garrett Part 6 of 12 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1997 Susan M. Garrett -------------------------- THE NATURE OF THE BEAST "One side, detective--delivery coming through!" Adam placed his hand on the door to the Coroner's lab, swung it inward, then stepped aside--there was another member of the Forensics staff on his trail. The kid headed into the room at a run, his sneakers screeching as he slid to a stop on the tile, then he handed a large cardboard envelope to Natalie Lambert. She barely blinked as she swung her hand around to take the offering. Tossing it onto the counter, she closed the evidence bag she held in her other hand without missing a beat. "Thanks, Kev," she called. "Have fun at the game." "Leafs !" cried Kev as he caught the door on the reverse swing and disappeared from sight. Only the echoing screech of his sneakers and the presence of the cardboard envelope served as evidence that he'd ever been there. "You ever consider putting up a traffic light?" asked Adam. He backed into the room and away from the door slowly, half-expecting the manic delivery boy to return. "I would if more of our business was walk-in." Natalie gestured toward the chair at the far counter, then adjusted the brim of her white cap with a slide of her hand. "Have a seat. I'll be with you in a moment." "Right." Sitting down, Adam clasped his hands together and leaned forward, watching Natalie as she picked up a few items, put them on a small trolley, and wheeled them toward him. "Sorry we had to call you in early." "That's okay. Who said civil servants need sleep?" Natalie smiled and opened the cardboard envelope, carefully removing the enlargements and asking, "How about you? They pull you out of bed, too?" Adam glanced over at the black and white photographs, but they didn't make much sense to him at that angle. "Nope. Mine was more of a rescue. Kelly was trying to pin me down on vacation plans for the lodge." He thought he saw her glare at him out of the corner of her eye, but the next moment her attention appeared to be entirely centered on carefully removing a thin, gel-form cast from a plastic bag. "Avoiding it's not going to make it go away, Adam. That's not fair to you Kelly." "Now you sound like my partner." Natalie started and blinked down at him. "Who--Nick?" she asked in surprise. "I don't have any other partners at the moment." Rising, Adam craned his neck to look at the gel-cast, then the enlarged photo. "What am I looking at?" "That's one of the prints from the crime-scene," Natalie pointed toward the photograph, "and that's a gel- cast from the bloody sneakers we found in Coates' laundry hamper." Picking up a large magnifying glass, she placed a hand on Adam's shoulder and positioned him between the photo and the cast. "They match. And we've got a confirmation of human blood on Coates' sneaker--the side and sole." "So we've got the killer." "Maybe not." Pulling out another photograph, Natalie placed it beside the first. The footprint left in the blood was identical to the previous print. "We found that under Sturges' body; the print was in pig's blood. If my theory's right, Sturges chased Coates into the room or found him there. Coates knocked the trap off the display case, or set it. Sturges stepped into the trap, then as Sturges reached for Coates or tried to get out of the trap, somebody else nailed him from behind with the trophy." Adam whistled, looking over the pictures. "You can get all that from a couple of sets of footprints?" "Layered evidence, a coroner's best friend," declared Natalie cheerfully. Then she sobered, tapping another footprint on the second photograph. "That's your killer's print." Staring down at it, Adam tried to envision the sneaker that made it. If they didn't catch a break in this soon, he'd end up like Prince Charming from 'Cinderella,' checking the print on every sneaker in the city. "And none of the other prints even come to a match?" "That would make it too easy," said Natalie. She dropped into the seat Adam had vacated. "I've got full or partial crime-scene tracks from the pig's blood from all of the vandals except Nalvayko, but if he was one of the first ones out, his tracks could have been smeared or covered by the others. And, no, there's no trace of human blood on his sneakers, only pig. His prints just don't match the murderer's prints." "It was worth a shot," said Adam half-heartedly. Turning, he spotted a body covered with a sheet on a trolley. "That Coates?" "Yeah. You want a look?" "I guess." Adam's stomach flipped, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything that would pass for breakfast with his topsy-turvy schedule, but he promised it a donut when he got back to the station. He followed Natalie over to the trolley and stood back as she donned a pair of latex gloves. "We're not going to get toxicology back until tomorrow," she informed him as she pulled back the sheet. "The physical aspects match self-inflicted hanging." Vincent Coates had been blonde, with a fair complexion that was slightly blue in death. Natalie had pulled the sheet down just past the kid's shoulders, and Adam had no trouble making out the ugly bruise and ligature marks around the neck. "We've got footprints on the seat, and the chair was kicked over." Natalie pulled back the side of the sheet slightly and took hold of the young man's arm, showing Adam the wrist. "No sign of binding on the feet or wrists, and the only fibers imbedded in the neck seem to match the rope we found around him." Glancing at Adam to make certain he'd seen everything he needed, she covered up Coates again. Natalie moved toward him and peeled off her gloves. "They found a suicide note in the rear pocket of his jeans-- typed." "Yeah. Which doesn't make that much of a difference any more. Welcome to the computer age. I should check my word processing program--it probably comes with one installed. 'Good-bye cruel world.'" "I gather his was a little more specific," said Natalie brusquely, snapping the gloves, then tossing them into a trash bin beside the counter. "Something to the effect of 'I'm sorry. I did it.' They're dusting the note now-- you'll have it back within the hour." She rubbed the bridge of her nose wearily. "These things never get easier, do they?" "I guess they don't," said Adam warily. He watched her for a moment, something nagging at him, but not quite certain what it might be. "No other wounds?" "The usual with this sort of thing. I can give you more after I've done the autopsy, but I wouldn't hold out any hope of a smoking gun." The words echoed in his mind, reminding him of something Reese had said earlier. Adam stared at Coates' body, thinking back to the two phone conversations they had on tape, both calls to the police station. "What if Coates wasn't an accomplice?" he mused aloud. "What if it happened like you said--Coates gets chased into the room, he knocks down the trap or sets it, then he drops down behind that display case. Sturges comes flying into the dark room, steps into the trap...but before Coates has a chance to run, someone comes into the room, grabs the trophy, and kills Sturges. The alarm's going off, and the killer leaves, but Coates waits until he's gone, and then leaves...?" Covering Coates with the sheet, Natalie nodded, as if to herself. "The prints make sense that way. In fact, the prints make a of sense that way--Coates was a witness, not the killer or an accomplice." She glanced over at him, her smile cautious. "Let me guess--you want another look at the prints?" "You wouldn't happen to have Nalvayko's sneakers here, would you?" "The lab dropped them off an hour ago." Natalie walked over to another trolley piled with various boxes marked with black magic marker. "I haven't sorted them all out yet. They dumped the sneakers together. Here's Amy Lo's, Cittadino's, and...Nalvayko's." She held the bag out to Adam, looked down at it, then snatched her hand back when he reached for it. "What's wrong?" "Maybe nothing. Give me a second; I want you to double-check me." Pulling the other two bags from the box, Natalie carried them over to the counter. She tore a sheet of white butcher's paper from a roller and placed it over the counter. Carefully removing each set of sneakers from its respective bag, Natalie folded the bags, then set the sneakers and bags on top of the butcher's paper. After stepping back, she gestured toward Adam. "Take a look." There were three pairs of blood-spattered sneakers, different styles, makes, and colors. Adam stared down at them for a moment, but nothing jumped out at him. "What am I looking for?" "Differences," said Natalie, from over his shoulder. "Like 'Sesame Street,' right? One of these things is not like the others--" Adam looked. He stared. He turned his head sideways. They were three pair of thoroughly unremarkable blood- stained sneakers. Of they were blood-stained! Those kids had been spraying blood all over the walls and floors. They'd walked in it, run in it. Most of the treads would be filled with it. That's when he realized that two of the pairs of sneakers had blood splashes on the top, but most of the brown stains were along the treads and the side, the blood having splashed as the wearer walked or ran through it. The sneakers in the middle were coated with blood, but from the top down, as if someone had dropped blood from directly above the sneaker and it had run down the sides. "That one," said Adam, pointing toward the center pair. "That's a fake--those sneakers weren't worn at the crime- scene." "They're Nalvayko's," said Natalie, with a grin. "That's why I couldn't match these prints to any at the crime-scene. He came in here last night wearing a pair of sneakers." Adam was already pulling his phone out of his coat pocket. "What do you want to bet we find a pair of sneakers at Nalvayko's apartment that match the prints of the killer and have Sturges' blood on them?" "That's a sucker bet," answered Natalie. "But I'll give you even odds." Flipping open the phone, Adam hit the speed dial and then waited. There was a minute's pause before the phone was picked up, and Adam prayed that he wasn't going to get the answering machine. "Knight here." "We've got a possible match on the prints. Nalvayko wore a phony set of sneakers down here the other night! I know you're off call, but could you phone in a bench warrant for Nalvayko's place for an immediate search, suspicion of murder?" "Adam--what--?" "I'll bring him in. Just have a cell warmed up and waiting for him." "No!" called Nick. "Wait for back-up. The sun'll be down in another half hour and--" "Later, partner." He hit the button to end the call, then hit the power button as well--there was nothing like trying to sneak up on a suspect and having your cell phone go off on you. Natalie was watching him. "How'd he take it?" "You know Nick. How's he take anything?" With a grin, Adam headed toward the door. "Thanks, Natalie. I owe you for this." "Yeah, right." She hurried after him, holding open the swinging doors and calling down the hall after him. "What should I tell Nick when he calls?" "Tell him--" Adam skidded to a stop, then turned and opened his arms wide. "Tell him I'm out hunting." There were no doubts, no stops, no hesitation as he ran out the front steps of the Coroner's Building to his car. Slipping behind the wheel, Adam barely paused long enough to adjust the visor to block out the brilliance of the setting sun before turning the key in the ignition and gunning the engine. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Thu, 10 Apr 1997 22:31:29 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2 (07/12) To: FKFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #10 Episode Title: "The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2" "Air" Date: April 3, 1997 Author: Susan M. Garrett Part 7 of 12 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1997 Susan M. Garrett -------------------------- THE NATURE OF THE BEAST Fuming, Nick stared across the loft as he listened to a muzac version of 'Song, Sung Blue' that would have driven a lesser man to tears. He'd called at the beginning of the shift change, and once he got someone on the line who wasn't about to run out the door, they had a problem finding anybody in at the Crown Attorney's office. Somebody thought Judge Leopold might be in his chambers, though, and would he wait a minute while they transferred him? That was five transfers ago. The warrant was in process, but he was hanging on for the particulars. This had to be right. This had to be . There was no way he was going to let Nalvayko walk on this, especially not after his five-minute talk with Natalie in which everything about the case had suddenly become crystal clear. "Knight?" Nick started at the unexpectedly recognizable voice on the phone, then asked, "Captain? I'm on hold trying to get a bench warrant--" "I know--someone said you were on the line and transferred it here. I'll have somebody else cover the warrant. We just got the Interpol file on Nalvayko." There was the sound of papers being turned, then falling. "His last name turned up so many red flags in the Russian Republic, it looked like the communists were back in power-- turns out his older brother's a prominent member of the Chechen resistance. The brother got the kid shipped to Canada through a humanitarian aid scholarship two years ago." "So Alex Nalvayko wasn't part of the Chechen resistance?" "Not as far as the Russians are concerned, but who knows? What concerns me more is there's no response on Sakai's car radio, and he isn't answering his cell phone." Picking up the remote, Nick clicked on the shutters. The barest glimmer of light entered the room. Darkness was approaching, but not quickly enough. "Who do we have in the area?" "I'm sending in two patrol cars as backup. If this kid is armed, anything could happen." Nick shrugged into his jacket and continued to stare at the light fading from the window. "Captain, there's something on the tape, something Coates said when he called in--" "I haven't heard it yet," said Reese. "'He's gonna go through with it.'" "I know he is. If Sakai's butt is still in one piece when this is over, I'm going to--" "No--Captain, listen! That's what Coates said, 'He's gonna go through with it.'" A glance at the window--two minutes more. "I think Nalvayko has something planned...or he's going to carry out something the PAR group planned before the murder screwed everything up. Winkler--maybe he'd know. Where's he staying?" "I have the number on my desk. Hang on--" Another minute. Sixty seconds. "The Four Seasons," said Reese. "I can't make out the ro--" Cutting the call short, Nick flipped his phone closed, tucked it inside his coat pocket, and headed for the back stairs at a run. *** "Open the door--police!" Adam pounded on the door again, risking a glance at the stairwell. He'd told the landlady to go back downstairs. There was a good chance Nalvayko was armed. He also felt there was also a good chance that he might just get Nalvayko to come in peacefully...if he could find him. That was the third warning. Adam took a deep breath and slammed his back against the wall beside the doorframe. Slipping the key into the lock, he clicked it in place and turned the knob. The door swung open easily, with no response. "Nalvayko?" Still no response. Taking a deep breath, he edged around the door and peered inside. Nothing. There was nobody home. It was an odd feeling, frustration at not finding Nalvayko edged with relief that he'd avoided any type of gun battle. Flicking on the light, Adam walked into the main area of the apartment. Nalvayko wasn't at class, he wasn't at home...so where was he? The place was clean--not immaculately so, but it looked like Nalvayko kept after it. There was a table with some papers and a handful of other items. Adam flipped through the envelopes, barely nudging them with his hand. Other than an electric bill and a host of sale advertisements, there was nothing useful. That's when he saw Nalvayko's camera on the table. Adam holstered his gun, then picked up the camera and turned it over, trying to leave as few prints as possible. It was a Canon, an expensive model. Nalvayko seemed to take his photography seriously. The photographs tacked up all over the walls could have told Adam that much. One corkboard and the surrounding area was dedicated to photographs of soldiers in uniform, street riots, the remains of bombed-out buildings, casualties, and gunfire. "Home, sweet, home?" murmured Adam, as his gaze moved from one picture to the next. The pictures were stark, mostly black and white, and shocking in their intensity. Nalvayko was good. He was very, very good. There were other groupings of pictures--a series of wildlife shots, photographs of animals, and then other photographs of abandoned or stripped carcasses. A PAR pamphlet was tacked to the board, as were photos of the group. When Adam leaned close to one picture, he recognized Vincent Coates, laughing. Another bulletin board was propped up against a chair leg. Adam lifted it onto the couch to get a better look at the photographs. He recognized the exteriors of shops along a section of Yonge Street, photographs of alleyways and roadways around the area. There were more photographs of a particular store; interior shots of displays, with specific shots of entrances, exits, and overhead cameras and mirrors as well. The shop was called 'Ontario Sportsman.' Adam glanced around the apartment. There was a phone book on a counter by the telephone. Picking it up, he flipped through it--the page on which the 'Ontario Sportsman' had an ad was dog-eared. Obviously, this had either been chosen as a PAR target...or Nalvayko had decided that this was his particular cause. Adam checked the cross- street--the shop was on Yonge, just off Carlton. The Maple Leafs were playing at the arena tonight. Which meant that the streets would be swelling shortly with a hockey crowd, many of whom might dash into a store to pick up a T-shirt or other item emblazoned with the logo of their favorite team. Removing his cell phone from his pocket, Adam flipped it open and hit the power button...then nearly dropped the phone when it rang in his hand. "Hello--?" he asked hesitantly. "Sakai? Where the hell are--?" "I'm at Nalvayko's apartment--he's not here." He tried to speak as quickly as he could, forcing the words out so that Reese would understand the importance of what he'd found. "Captain--there's a sporting goods store on Yonge, near Carlton...'Ontario Sportsman.' I think Nalvayko's going to hit it, make a stand there, I dunno. He's got photos all over the place. It looks like a target." "A bomb?" "No--probably not." Adam looked around the apartment again. "Something more...personal. Maybe hostages? It's about three blocks from the Maple Leaf Gardens." "The Leafs are playing Boston tonight." "Yeah, I know." Adam walked over to the board with the photos of Nalvayko's homeland, then started pulling photos off the board at random, taking as many as he could. "Captain, he could already be in the store." "There's enough ammo in that place to hold off a small army for a week. I'll send units over and alert hostage negotiation. You've got some background on this--get over there, now. I'll send over your partner as soon as he checks in." There was a pause. "If you pull this one out of the fire, Sakai, I might just let you sit out the next four years as a traffic warden." The dial tone sounded in his ear. "Yeah, thanks, Captain," said Adam glumly. "I love you, too." Shoving the phone into his coat pocket, Adam grabbed a few more photos, then headed out of the apartment at a run. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Thu, 10 Apr 1997 22:31:36 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2 (08/12) To: FKFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #10 Episode Title: "The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2" "Air" Date: April 3, 1997 Author: Susan M. Garrett Part 8 of 12 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1997 Susan M. Garrett -------------------------- THE NATURE OF THE BEAST Nick was just rounding the corner when he saw Winkler stepping out the front door of the hotel, the attorney's attention focused on the cab ahead of him and the doorman opening the passenger door. With a little vampire speed, Nick managed to place himself directly in front of Winkler without alerting either the attorney or the doorman. Winkler walked right into him, and Nick took the opportunity to riffle the man's breast-coat pocket as he pretended to set the man back on his feet and brush down his coat lapel. In that second, Winkler recognized him. Holding up the airline tickets he'd taken out of Winkler's jacket, Nick asked, "Going somewhere, Mr. Winkler?" Startled, Winkler stared at him, then made a grab for the tickets. "I have a fund-raising dinner to attend. My flight for Montreal leaves in an hour--" "In that case..." Nick handed back the tickets with a bow. As Winkler tried to step around him, he shifted slightly, so that he blocked the attorney's path. "I'm surprised that you're leaving. I thought you'd want to know that we'd found Vincent Coates." "Have you?" Winkler's heartbeat speeded up, but his expression was non-committal. "Congratulations. What did he have to say for himself?" "He didn't. He's dead." "Dead? How?" "It looks like a suicide, but we're guessing it was murder." "But I spoke with him last night; I told him to give himself up--" "You spoke with him?" asked Nick coldly. "Was that before or we saw you down at the station?" Winkler stared at Nick, his own gaze growing cold. "You'll understand if I decline to answer your questions, Detective Knight. Now, I have a plane to catch. Either arrest me or--" "You could be charged as an accessory to murder, Mr. Winkler." Nick concentrated, refusing to let Winkler's gaze slip away from him. The man's heartbeat sounded in his ears as he concentrated, feeling the man's will slip away beneath the intensity of his gaze "Accessory to--" murmured Winkler, his voice barely a whisper. "What did you know about the PAR attack on the club?" "I knew...I knew that something was going to happen," said Winkler, his voice halting. "That's why I was here. Coates phoned me last week--I told him that I didn't want to know the particulars...it would have been free publicity." Then Winkler shook himself free from Nick's hold, his mouth remaining open as he realized what he'd said. "None of that would be admissible in court." "Maybe not. But there are always phone records, travel arrangements--" Nick reached out a hand and flicked the top of the tickets Winkler was holding. "We can do this the hard way, or we can be nice about it, but either way, I think you're going to miss that flight, Mr. Winkler." Catching hold of Winkler's shoulder, Nick pulled him aside, telling the doorman holding the cab door, "Thanks, but he's got a ride." Guessing that Winkler wouldn't be in a hurry to run off, Nick pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "Mind if I make a call? No, I didn't think so." He hit the autodial for the station and said immediately, "This is Detective Knight--I need to speak with Captain Reese." There was a pause, then he heard the pick up. "Knight?" "Captain, I'm down here at the Four Seasons with Mr. Winkler. He's volunteered to skip his scheduled flight to Montreal and drop by the station to tell us how much he knew about the break-in at the club and what he said to Vincent Coates last night." "That's awfully good-hearted of him," said Reese sharply. "Why don't you offer him a ride to the station for his troubles?" Clearing his throat, Nick stared at the empty curbside. "That might be a problem, Captain--I don't have the Caddy." "Well, bring him in with whatever you're driving." "I'm not--driving. I don't have a car." There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. "Let me guess--you lost your car?" "Funny, Captain." Nick glared at Winkler. "Can I get a squad car to pick Winkler up?" "I think that can be arranged," said Reese. "Sakai called in--Nalvayko wasn't at the apartment. Your partner thinks he's got a lead, said something about Nalvayko or PAR having designs on a shop that carries hunting supplies. 'Ontario Sportsman' ring any bells with you?" "'Ontario Sportsman,'" repeated Nick, then watched as Winkler shifted nervously. "Adam's on the right track, Captain. That's on Yonge, isn't it?" "Knight, don't you leave Winkler--and that's an order!" "Captain!" "You don't want to know what kind of hell I caught from the Crown Attorney last month when you left that mugger handcuffed to a railing in the middle of the highway traffic median! The last thing I want is another potential lawsuit for reckless endangerment." Then Reese's voice lowered. "I've got two cars on scene, a hostage negotiator on the way, and we're sending more cars to handle crowd control if it gets ugly." Nabbing the PAR attorney on a charge of obstruction of justice wasn't such a big deal after all. His partner was heading into a potential shoot-out or hostage situation with a handful of uniforms as back-up. His partner. His very mortal, allergic to some cats, and susceptible to bullet holes . "Captain--?" Nick took a long, slow breath. "I need to be there. You I need to be there--" "I know, but no can do. There'll be a squad car there in ten minutes." There was a pause on Reese's end of the line. "After the car shows and Winkler's in the back seat, you can get to where you gotta go, however you gotta get there--and that's an order. I'm looking forward to having a nice, long talk with Mr. Winkler." "All right, Captain. See you then." Turning off the telephone, Nick flipped it closed and tucked it inside his jacket. "Coates said they'd abandoned the demonstration at the sporting goods store," said Winkler. "After what happened at the Georgian Bay Club...." Nick looked away, his ears tuned for the sound of a siren. If a squad car passed by, he could always flag it down. Ten minutes. "None of them would be that stupid," protested Winkler. "Besides, it was only going to be a peaceful demonstration." "You'd better hope you're right," growled Nick. He barely noticed that Winkler slunk back against the wall of the hotel. The inside of his chest felt empty and hollow. He'd buried two partners in the past year; he wasn't about to bury a third. Nine minutes felt even like an eternity. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Thu, 10 Apr 1997 22:31:45 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2 (09/10) To: FKFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #10 Episode Title: "The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2" "Air" Date: April 3, 1997 Author: Susan M. Garrett Part 9 of 12 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1997 Susan M. Garrett -------------------------- THE NATURE OF THE BEAST Two patrol cars were sitting at the curb, not more than a couple of hundred feet from the front of 'Ontario Sportsman.' Adam saw four uniformed police officers and a civilian standing beside them as he pulled his car to the curb. Opening the door, he left the car and headed directly for them. "Detective Sakai, Metro Homicide," he said, showing the civilian his badge. "And you are?" "Daniel Brevitz. I'm the store manager." He glanced over at the officers in annoyance and asked, "What the hell's going on? I get a call from the police asking me to step outside and not make a lot of noise about it." One of the officers stepped forward; his name badge read 'Wills.' "We followed procedure, Detective--we've stayed away from direct line of sight and kept an eye on the entrance. We're expecting the hostage negotiator to arrive any time now." "Good. Let's hope we don't a hostage situation." Adam turned back to the store manager, taking the photograph another officer handed him. "Mr. Brevitz, we have reason to believe that this man may be in your store. He's a murder suspect, and we consider him possibly armed and dangerous. Have you seen this man in the last hour or so?" Brevitz stared at Adam for a moment, then glanced down at the fax that was shown to him. It wasn't the best copy. After a moment, he shook his head in puzzlement. "Could be. I've got at least thirty customers in there. There's a game down at the Gardens, the Leafs are playing--" "Boston," finished Adam. "Yeah, I know." He looked back at the storefront--as ranking officer on the scene, it was up to him to get as much information as he could, to confirm Nalvayko's whereabouts, and to get any potential hostages out of harm's way. "Okay, we proceed on the assumption that Nalvayko's already inside. Mr. Brevitz, I want you to go around to all of your personnel and ask them to exit the store--no alarms, no excitement. How many employees have you got in there?" "Six in the front--three of them are on the register-- and two people who are in and out of the back, restocking." "Any doors to the back?" "One--a loading dock. It's locked from the inside, and it's got an alarm. The only way to get in there from the outside is to break it down." "All right," said Adam softly, still watching the front of the store, "we'll forget that. Wills, you take your partner and head to the left. Corran you take the right. Get the customers out of there. I'll keep an eye out for Nalvayko." He took his gun from the holster, checked it, then returned it there for safekeeping. "Mr. Brevitz, all of your ammo is locked up, right?" "Yeah. Unless someone's making a purchase--then there'd be some on the counter." "Let's hope everybody's buying Leafs hockey pucks, then." Adam gestured toward the store. "Mr. Brevitz, I hate to ask you to do this, but I need you to go in first, act like nothing's wrong. I'll follow in a minute--I'm just a customer, okay?" He turned back to the patrolmen. "Give us three minutes, then come in. I don't want any weapons drawn, nothing that could set Nalvayko off. Understood?" "Sure, Detective," said Corran grinning. "We'll try to keep this one nice and peaceful." "That's the plan. Okay, Mr. Brevitz, it's showtime." He gave the man credit--Brevitz walked right up to the door and straight in like he didn't have a care in the world. Adam turned to the last officer. "You're running traffic control. Keep people off that sidewalk in either direction. Better put up a couple of sawhorses as soon as the next squad car arrives. I don't want any other officers in there until I come out again. Brief the hostage negotiator and any ranking officers as soon as they arrive." Adam took one last glance at the other officers and said, "Three minutes?" When they all acknowledged his instructions, he walked down the sidewalk, opened the glass door, and entered the store. It smelled like leather and fresh rubber, like the soles of new sneakers or the covering of a pristine basketball. Adam went straight up the center aisle, taking a careful look at the people he passed. He caught Brevitz's eye at the counter, nodded, then continued walking, noting that at least two employees were already heading for the entrance. He was aware of whispers, of movement around him, quiet conversations in other aisles when the police officers arrived, most of which began, "Excuse me, sir, could I ask you--?" Four minutes become five, then six. Adam was just beginning to believe that his suspect hadn't shown yet, when he saw a flash of a blue and white; a Toronto Bluejays' jacket. Nalvayko had been wearing a jacket like that when he'd been leaving a note on the door of Coates' apartment. Adam peered around the corner. Nalvayko was standing by a swinging door that was stenciled with the words 'Employees Only.' Shifting nervously, he glanced around.... Then he caught sight of Adam; his eyes opened wide in panic, and he ducked through the door. Cursing under his breath, Adam raced for the door. He hit it at top speed and skidded on the cement floor of the stockroom beyond, arriving just in time to hear a yelp of surprise. There were large, metal shelves that ran from the floor to the ceiling, filled with cardboard boxes and partially unpacked merchandise. They were arranged around the perimeter of the room, and then in rows, forming narrow access walkways between the heavily stacked shelves. Nalvayko had left a trail of over-turned boxes in his wake, the contents having spilled out over the floor. Noting that the store probably wasn't going to pass a fire inspection any time soon, Adam began to walk the length of the stockroom. Checking one row at a time, he picked his way among the wreckage. At least one of the over-turned boxes held an array of knives. He drew his gun and held it close to his chest, listening intently. A muffled cry led him to the far aisle and he peered down the length of it. Nalvayko had pinned the arms of a stock boy; his other hand held a wicked hunting knife, the blade at the throat of his hostage. The light was dim, but Adam could easily see the sweat on both of their foreheads, the blade of the knife glinting as Nalvayko pressed it against the hostage's neck. "Back off," he said evenly, his tone leaving little doubt that he'd carry out the implied threat. Adam holstered his gun and backed away slowly, his empty hands raised to chest level. "All right, I'll back off." There was a commotion at the swinging door. Nalvayko looked up, and the blade must have pressed closer to the stock boy's neck, because the hostage let out a cry. Adam turned and waved at the uniformed officer at the door. "Keep that closed!" he shouted. "I don't want anybody else in here. Hear me? Nobody comes in here!" The officer gestured his understanding and the door swung closed again. Taking a deep breath, Adam turned his attention back to Nalvayko. "Okay, they're gone. Now let him go." "Put your gun on the floor." When Adam hesitated, the knife moved again, and Adam saw a trickle of blood appear on the stock boy's neck. The stock boy's eyes were closed tightly. "Okay, okay. Gun on the floor. Gotcha." Adam reached into his holster and withdrew his gun with two fingers in a non-threatening fashion. He set the gun on the floor and brushed it aside with his foot, careful to make certain that it was out of Nalvayko's reach. "The gun's gone, Alex. I've got something else for you. I stopped by your apartment and saw your photos. I have them in my pocket. I'm going to take them out of my pocket, now, okay? Just the photos." Adam treated the photos like china, pulling them from his coat pocket, then holding then up for Nalvayko to see. "Did you take these pictures, Alex?" "Those...are mine," said Nalvayko. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to get a better view. "They're good, Alex. They're really, really good. Especially the animals. Like this one--" Adam flipped through the photographs until he found a picture of a moose standing near a highway guardrail. The animal was majestic, impressive. "I understand, Alex. I understand why you don't want the animals killed." For a moment, he thought he'd screwed up. Nalvayko backed up a few steps, agitated, and dragged his hostage with him. "You don't understand. That's what Vinney said-- no one understands." "All right--all right! So I don't understand." Adam inched forward, even as Nalvayko moved back. "I'm listening, Alex. Tell me. Just put down the knife and tell me." "If I put down the knife, you don't listen. That's what my brother said, what Vinney said--" He hesitated, glancing over his right shoulder for an instant, then centering his attention quickly back on Adam. "Vinney wanted people to know." "That's what PAR is for," said Adam, taking a step closer, holding up another one of Nalvayko's photographs to get his attention. "They'll listen to you now, Alex. Put down the knife and come with me--I'll make certain they listen to you." Nalvayko spat on the floor. "They don't listen, don't listen. It's like the lawyer said--when blood is shed, people look up. People listen." He shifted and raised the knife, forcing the stock boy's head back further. A new line of red appeared along the hostage's neck. Adam took a deep breath and wondered how the hell he'd ever thought he could talk his way out of this one. But he still had to try.... (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com. Date: Thu, 10 Apr 1997 22:31:51 -0400 Reply-To: Virtual Fourth Season Sender: Forever Knight TV show stories From: Virtual Fourth Season Subject: V4S: The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2 (10/10) To: FKFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Episode Number: Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season - Episode #10 Episode Title: "The Nature of the Beast -- Part 2" "Air" Date: April 3, 1997 Author: Susan M. Garrett Part 10 of 12 This story is based on characters and situations created by James Parriott and Barney Cohen and owned by Sony/TriStar. No infringement is intended. Copyright 1997 Susan M. Garrett -------------------------- THE NATURE OF THE BEAST Nick was intent on his destination--the front door of the sporting goods store--when he felt a hand on his chest and his way was blocked by a uniformed police officer. "I'm sorry, sir, you can't--" "Detective Nick Knight." He drew his shield from his pocket and flashed it at the officer. "That's my partner in there." There were five patrol cars in sight, and he counted at least a dozen uniformed offers working crowd control. "Any civilians inside?" he asked, heading for the door, then walking into the store. The officer paced him. "One hostage. It's a stand-off situation, but the hostage negotiator's on his way--he was out at the airport. We know the suspect's armed, but we're not sure with what. We can't get in to take a look--your partner told us to back off." "Yeah, well, that's his call to make, isn't it?" Nick turned around as soon as he entered the store. There were another half dozen uniforms in sight, as well as a couple of plain-clothes officers. "Can I talk to the manager here?" he called. "Can I help?" asked a man wearing street clothes. "I'm Daniel Brevitz, the manager." "Detective Knight, Metro Homicide." Nick reached for his badge again, then waved his hand, forgoing that nonsense. Catching the manager's arm, he drew him aside and asked quietly, "Is there a back door to that storeroom? A skylight? Any other way in?" "There's a back door off the loading ramp, but it's locked from the inside, and an inside stairway to the roof for access to the central heating unit. Both have alarms." Brevitz glanced over his shoulder. "The detective that went in there seemed pretty concerned about the alarms." Nick took a breath, then nodded. "Okay. Can you turn the alarms ?" "There's a switch by the cash register--" "Do it!" ordered Nick, then he turned toward the door. The manager grabbed his arm. "That won't help you with the lock. It's a deadbolt. You'd need a hacksaw and a couple of hours to get through that." Nick gave the manager a wan smile. "I'll take my chances." He opened the door, then gestured toward the manager. "How long until the alarms get cut?" "A couple of seconds after I hit the switch." The store manager hurried over to the counter at the front of the store. Slipping behind it, he bent down, disappearing from sight. An instant later and he stood again. "They're off." "Thanks." It took Nick time to work his way through the crowd of onlookers crowding the sidewalk, and then another few seconds to cover the half-block before he reached the entrance to the loading alley that ran behind the Yonge Street store fronts. It was deserted, with the exception of a pair of officers guarding the door over the loading dock, and their attention was elsewhere. He took to the air, landing on the roof with a light thump. There were two access doors on the roof, but from the location it was easy enough to determine which one led to the storage area below. Nick grabbed hold of the door handle, tested it, then gave it a good, hard yank. He wasn't certain that he'd actually done it until the door swung open. Then he slipped into the stairwell, closed the door carefully behind him, and started down the stairs. At the bottom was an open area and a row of shelves that blocked his view. Nick stopped and listened. "That's what PAR is for," said Adam's voice. "They'll listen to you now, Alex. Put down the knife and come with me--I'll make certain they listen to you." His partner sounded cool and collected. Only Nick could hear the slight tremor in the voice, the skip of the heartbeat. "They don't listen, don't listen." The voice was male, young, with an accent, heavy on the consonants. It had to be Nalvayko. "It's like the lawyer said--when blood is shed, people look up. People listen." Nick didn't dare move. He didn't dare do . Three sets of mortal heartbeats pounded in his ears. They were to his left, about three hundred yards ahead of him. Nalvayko was armed--but with what? Adam was how far away? Was he armed? It was a blind situation. The last time he'd wandered in and taken point, Tracy had been behind him. He'd never known it, never even thought to listen for her heartbeat. She'd taken three bullets and she'd died. Nick held the stair banister tightly, his fingers crushing metal, as he began to lose himself in his heightened senses. A not-unwelcome feeling stole over him, a delicious tension, an expectation of action yet to come. He was hunting. >>>> The lion tracks were clear and crisp--fresh. Two lions, one of them badly wounded, running parallel. The animals were hunting. The animals were hunting . Nicholas turned to give that information to Miss Lawson, who was fighting her way through the underbrush behind him, when a roar shook the air around them. He'd only met her eyes, barely opened his mouth to comment before a rifle shot echoed, the sound followed quickly by a terror- filled scream. Nicholas thrashed through the underbrush as quickly as he could in the direction of the scream. Although he was moving faster than the average mortal might have managed, the undergrowth delayed him, and the overgrowth made flight nearly impossible. He settled for trampling nearly everything in his path until he found himself in a clearing adjacent to the river. Carlton Everleigh's body was stretched over the edge of the riverbank, his head partially submerged in the water, the blood from his throat and chest wounds sluicing downstream. Paw prints in the light mud and the depth of the claw wounds gave Nicholas some small satisfaction-- LaCroix had been denied a kill this time. Not far beyond Everleigh was the carcass of a male lion. Part of the skull around the eye was missing--the result of the rifle shot that he'd heard. As he walked toward it, Nicholas noticed the matted blood on the creature's flank that indicated an earlier wound inflicted by one of the unfortunate German hunters. He grabbed hold of Everleigh's body as he passed, pulling him up out of the water and onto the bank, not only out of decency but to prevent the fresh blood in the water from alerting other predators that a meal might be found nearby. There was less he could do for the lion. It was huge, as such beasts went, and he could well see why the Germans had gone to such an effort to kill the creature. The presence of an animal like this might very well explain the lack of local game--most animals knew enough to stay hidden when such a creature was about. The jaws were coated with foam and blood, but it was still an incredible animal. He hoped that death had taken it as swiftly as it had seemed to have taken Everleigh. Sensing a presence somewhere near, Nicholas tilted his head, listening. The sound was soft and not too distant. A heartbeat. An animal heartbeat. Glancing down at the lion's carcass, he realized that death would have resulted instantaneously from Everleigh's shot; part of the animal's brain had been blown away. The lion's mate had killed Everleigh and was nearby-- The creature's roar almost deafened him. Nicholas whirled in time to see the lioness spring out of the low brush, aiming directly for his throat. Two shots rang out as the beast hit him, the weight of the large body striking him and carrying him to the ground. Instinctively, Nicholas lowered his head to protected his eyes from those sharp claws, and he pushed back at the animal, trying to keep it at bay. When he met no resistance, he rolled out from under the lioness and scrambled upward, breathing heavily, waiting for the creature to attack him. There was no heartbeat, not even a final puff of breath. The lioness was dead. Looking up, Nicholas saw Virginia Lawson grinning at him, the rifle still smoking in her hands. She raised the gun in triumph and took a step toward him. There was a blur of motion from the sky, and Virginia Lawson was held tightly from behind by LaCroix. He knocked her protective helmet away, tilted her head, and sank his fangs into the soft flesh of her throat before her grin of triumph could turn to a grimace of pain. There was a whisper of breath from her, her mouth forming an inquiry, surprise and puzzlement in her eyes and, for a moment, fear. It was the only time Nicholas remembered seeing that particular emotion in her. He made some sort of noise, a choked plea, but in the seconds it took Nicholas to move forward, she was dead. LaCroix released her, and Nicholas reached for her body, cradling her as he followed her fall to the ground. A numb feeling washed through him as he held her, the dark curls falling across the khaki of his bush jacket. Her eyes were still open, empty now that her soul had fled. Nicholas closed her eyelids gently with his fingertips, already sensing the not-so-slow surrender to decay. Her flesh grew cold as he stoked her cheek with his fingertips. It seemed a wonder to him that she'd ever been alive. "Nothing like a hunt to stir the blood." LaCroix stalked past him, pausing at Everleigh's body. "A pity this one was wasted--I've always rather enjoyed blue-bloods. Thin on the palette, but they scream nicely enough when given the proper incentive." With the toe of his boot, he undid Nicholas' work and rolled Everleigh's body to the edge of the riverbank. A final, simple push was all that was needed, and the corpse tumbled into the water, sinking first, then rising as it floated downstream. LaCroix turned his attention to the corpses of the lions. His expression changed as he viewed their remains; any sign of contempt disappeared, to be replaced with an almost wistful admiration. "Magnificent beasts, weren't they? A pity they had to die--they deserved better sport than these fools." "They deserved better." After letting Virginia Lawson's corpse fall gently to the earth, Nicholas rose to his feet, anger beginning to burn within him. "Especially her. You saw it in her, I you did." LaCroix walked over. "She a prize, wasn't she? Fiery, strong, passionate--as you well know." Kneeling down, he brushed aside her curls, his expression surprisingly tender. "And an marksman." Nicholas stared at LaCroix, his anger giving way to confusion. "You were going to bring her across--" "From the first moment I saw her," murmured LaCroix, gazing at her face as if memorizing it. "There was a hunger in her--she wanted more than she would ever be given or be able to take. She had...potential." "Then why kill her?" Nicholas pressed, needing to understand. "Miss Lawson failed--she lost her concentration and forgot, for a brief second, that she was a predator. No matter how successful the hunt, it is the slightest, unanticipated change of circumstance, a second's loss of concentration, that can turn a predator into prey. If she hadn't let down her guard after the shot, if she had even so much as me...we might very well have had company on our return to Mombassa...." As if dismissing the matter, LaCroix rubbed the palms of his hands against his trouser leg and rose to his feet. He looked away to the distant horizon and gestured at the dark clouds passing into the northeast. "It looks as if conditions have improved enough to continue our journey. You should feed before we continue." The hunger that had torn at his innards, hot and bright during the hunt, now seemed distant, almost non-existent. Closing his eyes for a moment, Nicholas shook his head wearily. "No. Let's get away from here." "As you wish." When he opened his eyes, he found that LaCroix hadn't yet lifted into the air. Still standing over Virginia Lawson's body, LaCroix seemed almost thoughtful. "A second's loss of concentration," he repeated, as if to himself. Then he lifted his head and met Nicholas' gaze. "We cannot afford the luxury of a mistake. Or of a regret." ### The memory stirred a chord in him. Suddenly, Nick saw an answer to both of his problems. Now he knew how to handle Ian Sandler. And he also knew how best to help Adam nail this suspect, without spilling any more blood. (to be continued ...) -------------------------------------------- For more information or to participate in the Forever Knight Virtual 4th Season, write to V4S@fkfanfic.com.