Saturday, June 12 th, 1999
Simon's Office

"Jim!" Simon Banks wasn't sure if he was relieved or horrified to see his detective back from his personal leave a little early.

"Sir." Ignoring the bristling Connor, Jim nodded toward his captain, moved out of the doorway and shut the door firmly behind him. "What *choices*  are you discussing, sir?"

Running an assessing eye over Ellison, Banks decided he had a potential explosion on his hands. "Sit down, Jim." He gestured toward a chair that was, thankfully, at the other end of his desk from the *still* bristling Connor. "Jim," Simon used his 'I am the captain, and I  *will*  be obeyed' tone. "Sit."

Connor took the opportunity to jump in. "*Sandy's* choices, Jim. Or his  *lack*  of choices."

Just as Jim shifted into position to answer Connor's implied challenge, Simon decided to take back control of his office. "Jim, it's good to have you back!" He applied a steely glare (stay in that seat, mister) to Ellison. "Connor" another steely glare directed to the 'clone' (keep your mouth  *shut*,  Inspector) "will fill you in on the last 24 hours after * I * give you a rundown on what Sandburg has been up to since you've been gone, and then  *you* ", the glare returned to settle on Ellison, "will give me as full a report as possible on your last week." Simon allowed a tinge of 'do I make myself clear' to enter his voice and posture.

Simon watched as his two subordinates backed down from verbal confrontation. Jim crossing his legs and settling back, Connor simply relaxing. The qualities that made them excellent detectives and solid occasional allies also made them, infrequently, adversaries. Sandburg's presence sometimes soothed, sometimes provoked, the hostilities. At the moment the bone of contention was his *absence* . This was not the time for him to address the proprietary attitude first Ellison and, lately, Connor  sometimes displayed toward Sandburg.

"All right, Jim. You've been gone since the fourth, a little over a week. We've been trying to keep an eye on Sandburg. He's mostly been here, except for the day he spent in court in the Ames' murder case with Brown and Virelli. We've been trying to make sure he eats while he's here. I'm fairly certain he hasn't been eating or sleeping at home."

"Sir,"Jim uncrossed his legs, tilted his head and stabbed Simon's desk with his forefinger, "I've already been to the loft, and he isn't  *home* . I come here, and find he hasn't been in yet. Now, I didn't tell him why or where I was going, but..."

"Of *course* you didn't tell him where you were going," Megan jumped in. "Did you care if he'd worry? Did you think to ask him along? *He* needs the 'down time'" she emphasized the phrase by making quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "just as much as you do. Couldn't you take the time to talk it over with him? He pretends he knew about it all along, but..."

"Connor!" Simon's voice rose over the incipient rant. "That's enough!" He turned to Ellison, "And you,..." Simon's desk phone interrupted him. "Dammit!" Glaring at Ellison and Connor he picked up the phone. "Banks...What? Looking for Ellison? Who?...Why?...Put him through, Rhonda." Simon put the line on hold and handed it to Ellison. "It's for you, a patrol officer named Rumery. He says its urgent and won't speak to anyone but you."  Taking  the line off hold, Simon sat back in his desk chair, his attention focused on Ellison.

"Ellison." Jim listened for a few minutes, then made writing motions in the air to request a pen and paper. He wrote down a telephone number and address, then listened again. Finally he said "Thank you." and "I'll be there within half an hour." and hung up.

"So." he looked neutrally at his captain. "Would you like to tell me why Sandburg is at Clay Rumery's home? Or why he's either drunk or drugged?"

Nobody answered him.

"Well?" Jim looked back and forth between Connor and Simon, finally realizing from the honest concern expressed on their faces that they really were on the same side. Sighing mentally, he acknowledged that personal epiphanies, once reached, had to be practiced. Once again he had reacted according to his fear and not his knowledge.

"I'm sorry. I was wrong."

If he'd had any doubts, their reaction  to his words strangled them. Megan's jaw dropped, while Simon's eyes went wide. Had he ever actually apologized to them before? Or admitted to being wrong? He couldn't remember, but if their reactions were any indication, the answer was no, resoundingly.

"Jim," Simon's voice sounded slightly tentative.

"I shouldn't have come in here the way I did, I..." Jim bent forward, rubbing his face with his open palms, then sat up, leaving his hands clenched on the arms of his chair. His gaze wandering about the ceiling as he tried to gather his thoughts. Finally he returned his focus to his companions.

"Look, I..." Jim paused. How did he start? Taking Zoeller down had been child's play compared to this. "I spent this last week up at Stephen's cabin on Echo Lake. It's part of...well, that doesn't matter. I needed to...get away...from everything. Not for..." he glanced over at Megan, "'down-time', or to actually get away from Blair, I just had to be alone to...figure out, to...do...this...."

"Jim."

He looked over at Connor, wondering why she had interrupted him. She looked a little nervous.

"Jim, I ...look, Jim. I'm not, I'm not * really* a part of this. I think it would be better if you talked to Simon alone. He knows everything I do, and besides, you can talk to him on your way to get Sandy. I...if you really think you need to talk to me, well, we'll find time. Right now, I figure we're quits, mate." She looked over at Simon, who nodded to her. She rose from her chair to leave, but when she reached the door, she turned. "Sandy will be fine, Jim. You both will. It will take a little time, but you'll find the right path for you both." She held his gaze until she was sure he had understood, then opened the door and walked through, closing it firmly behind her.

"Jim." Simon got no reaction from Jim who was sitting with his eyes closed, so he raised his voice a bit. "Jim!  Are you all right? What's really wrong, here, Jim? Talk to me, man."

Simon watched his detective open his eyes in a suddenly haunted face. "Jim, what's going on with you? Is it something with your senses? Is there something I can do?"

"Simon, I...ever since last night, I've felt...out of synch, disassociated...as if something was pulling at me...," Ellison shook his head as if to clear it.

"Jim, you know I  I don't know much about this sentinel stuff. We've always relied on Blair for that, but..."

"No, no, Simon. It's not that...not my senses. It's...me...as if something were pulling at...I know what this sounds like, but ...it's as if something is pulling at my ...soul. And...I  have this nagging...*need*... to find Blair. I came back here as fast as I could, went right to the loft...I can't explain it, Simon. I was so sure he'd be there, that he could stop ...this...feeling."

"I see." He didn't, but he honestly didn't know what else to say.

"It's o.k., Simon. We'll get Blair, and take care of him, and he'll know what to do."

Simon's brows rose. Well, that was a change in attitude.

"Do you want to take my car, or your truck?" There. That was a safe, and necessary topic.

"Your car, Simon. We don't really know what condition Blair's in, we may need the back seat for him. Rumery seemed to think he would be fine, didn't want to involve a hospital, for some reason. Plus, my truck is  full. I...didn't take time to unload when I got to the loft, and what I have in the cab is a hell of a lot safer in here in the parking garage until I know what's going on."

"All right then, Jim. You're with me." Simon reached forward to stab his intercom . "Rhonda, I'm gone for the rest of the day. I'll be on cell if I'm needed."He grabbed his coat with one hand and ushered Jim through his office door  and out into the bullpen with the other.

Rainier University
Chancellor Edward's office

The secretary looked away from her monitor as she heard the outer door open. Good, this would be the nine o'clock appointment with the Morgan Foundation. They were prompt, which would please her boss.

What a mess . Chancellor Edwards was certainly taking all of this personally, as well she should. All that money, not to mention the University's reputation. Who would have thought that teaching fellow would ... well, she reminded herself, it wasn't just the university that was involved, which was why the foundation's representatives were here. Blair Sandburg had also taken *them* for a great deal of money, and *their* reputation was on the line as well.

Three people? Surely the appointment had been for only one? She rose from her desk and approached the group.

Two men and a woman had entered the office. The woman, at the front of the little group, was probably in her late 20's. Short and deceptively slight, with dark blue eyes, her long curly brown hair was pulled back and secured with a silver clasp. Small silver hoops were fastened at her ears. She wore an expensive, comfortable, but fashionably cut, gray suit with a white silk blouse. Her outfit was finished off with low heeled black leather pumps. She carried a slim briefcase.

The two men accompanying her were dressed in a similar fashion, conservatively, comfortably and expensively. Both  probably in their late sixties. What role did they play, here?

"Good morning, may I help you?" Which one would answer?

"Good morning," the woman cast a quick glance to the nameplate on the desk. "Ms. Lumara. I'm Tonia Wolfe-Stanhope. I'm part of the legal team representing the Joseph Eliot Morgan Foundation. I believe my secretary spoke to you earlier this week about the reason for our visit?" She flashed a wide smile.

"Yes. Chancellor Edwards is expecting you. I'll let her know you're here. And the gentlemen with you?"

The smile flashed once more. "The gentlemen also represent the foundation."

Mira Lumara had opened her mouth to ask for their names when she noticed Tonia Stanhope's smile become just a bit less friendly. Perhaps she could let the names slide  this once. The woman was obviously in charge. She picked up the phone and pressed "3" to put the call through to the chancellor.

Chancellor Edwards grimly lowered the  phone to its cradle. The lawyer from the foundation was here. Finally. She could begin now to put the last few nails in Blair Sandburg's academic coffin. When she was done with him, he would be finished everywhere.

He had made her, and the university, laughing stocks with the fraud he had perpetrated. First the Ventriss funding was almost lost over the fuss about ethics, then, probably because of the embarrassment caused by Sandburg's connection with the police department, the Ventriss Corporation had completely pulled their support of the proposed athletic complex. Thank goodness the university had been able to find another backer.

She, however, had herself to think about; she didn't plan to stay at Ranier forever. She needed to focus the university's eye firmly on the true culprit in this debacle - Blair Sandburg. With the help of the Morgan Foundation she might even get him put in prison. Obtaining funds through fraudulent applications was punishable by law. Personal considerations might make it impossible for her to press charges on the University's behalf, but the Foundation could do it for them. She needed to make that point perfectly clear to this lawyer.

Well. She needed to gather herself. She had guests to greet and a meeting to get started. Rising from her chair, she crossed the room to open her door, fixing just the right expression on her face. She didn't really expect any hindrance to her objectives, but a bit of wooing might not be out of order.

Opening the door to the outer office she ran a quick assessing glance over the group standing in front of Mira's desk. The small brunette looked somehow familiar, but that could be for any number of reasons - she encountered hundreds of people on a casual basis in her work for the University. The woman might even have been a student at Ranier at some time. The men? Now what function did they fill? At their age they certainly weren't junior legal associates. She sent a quick steely glance at her secretary to let her know they *would* discuss the lack of names later, before allowing her chosen expression to return to her face and greeted her "guests". She did, after all, want something from these people, even though it would be to their benefit to fall in with her purpose.

"Ms. Stanhope, it's kind of you to arrange to come so quickly. Won't you and these gentlemen," the Chancellor raising an inquiring eyebrow, left a subtle pause, hoping, unsuccessfully, to encourage Stanhope to fill in the men's names,"come into my office. Perhaps Mira could bring us some coffee?"

Inclining her her head slightly in almost regal acknowledgement, Stanhope replied. "Wolfe-Stanhope, Chancellor Edwards, I'm very proud of my heritage, but I do understand that Stanhope is much easier to manage. If you don't mind, perhaps Ms. Lumara could find some tea?"

"Gentlemen?"

"Coffee for me, please."

"Coffee will be fine, thank you."

"See to it, Mira, and hold my calls until we're done." Edwards turned to her three guests, moving aside to allow them to enter her office. "Please, " she gestured toward the grouping of comfortable chairs set around a low coffee table, "be comfortable. Mira will be with us in a moment, and we'll be able to begin."

True to her words, the secretary returned just as the three were finished seating themselves, Stanhope placing her briefcase to the side of her chair. Why did the name Stanhope, *Wolfe* - Stanhope, sound familiar? It nagged at her, as if she were missing some important bit of information. Why was *she* in charge of the group? Who were these men,why were they  here, and why had they not been introduced?She watched  the small brunette take an appreciative sip of tea, before she took the initiative in the conversation.

"Counselor, I appreciate your prompt response to my request. This situation could so easily work to the detriment of both the University and the Foundation. I feel we must act quickly."

Stanhope returned her cup to its saucer and placed both on the coffee table before settling back and speaking. "I agree with you, Chancellor Edwards. That is why we," she indicated first herself and then the men seated across from her, "felt it imperative that we meet. This matter must be resolved for...all our sakes."

Good. Now she could press the issue. Edwards leaned forward.

"Precisely. Now, as I'm sure you'll agree, Blair Sandburg is at the center of the problem." She lifted inquiring brows toward Stanhope and waited until the lawyer nodded, noncommittally, back.

Edwards continued. "I've begun to take action on behalf of the University. I'm hoping you will join me in taking steps against Mr. Sandburg legally. We cannot allow him to continue to disgrace our institution, or your Foundation. To this end I have instructed our legal representatives to contact the authorities. As you are aware, there are laws against fraud, and I'm sure you will agree with me, Blair Sandburg has obtained many thousands of dollars from your Foundation through the fraudulent grant applications he  based on his unsubstantiated and creative"research" .

There. The ball was in their court, now. It would be interesting to see what they would do. Sending a three person team meant the Foundation was taking the situation  seriously.

There wasn't, unfortunately,  much the University could do beyond distancing themselves from Sandburg and denouncing his actions. She knew her part in the events leading up to Sandburg's confession wouldn't bear close scrutiny. She had, after all, gone ahead with Graham's plans to overwhelm Sandburg after what Graham admitted was a complete refusal from Sandburg to publish. The plan would have worked, if only the research had been factual. She should have known something was wrong when Graham told her of Sandburg's refusal...how many graduate students turn down millions of dollars and possible Nobel Prize nominations? Still, she knew her professional reputation would ultimately rest, not on her honesty, but on how well she played the game, on how well she managed damage control, She, knew how to play the game, and she'd stacked the deck in her favor. One of her first moves had been to contact every influential colleague she knew.

When she was done Blair Sandburg would be totally ruined. No school, college or university, large or small, public or private, influential or inconsequential would have a thing to do with with him.

Unfortunately, one of her main targets had refused to cooperate. Dr. Eli Stoddard would not believe  Sandburg would have any part in perpetrating fraud and so had declined any part in denouncing his former protegee. Indeed, when she finally succeeded in contacting Stoddard, he was packing in preparation for catching a flight to Cascade, and muttering about last minute surprise changes in thesis topics, of all things.

What Stoddard hoped to accomplish on Sandburg's behalf, she had no idea, but she wasn't worried, either. He might be the world's leading anthropological authority, and Ranier's golden child, but he was only one man, and his influence lay in places no longer open to Sandburg, the worlds of fieldwork and publishing. Those, Sandburg had closed against himself.

Her job was to keep the university, and herself, from going down with Sandburg. Twice in six months she'd had to salvage the wrecks left in Sandburg's wake/ How it had galled her to have to play up to him and his counter-culture mother when she'd thought he might actually have a chance at a Nobel Prize nomination. She was going to enjoy every minute of her vengeance, and these people would help her.

Idealists might talk about "right" and "wrong" and "the greater good", but she knew where the real power lay - with money. In any real contest she'd place her bets on the side with the most money.

The people sitting in her office knew that. They were money - players. They'd lost money and prestige because of Blair Sandburg, and so they would do for her what she was unable to do for herself or the university.

They would ruin Blair Sandburg by putting him in jail.

Stanhope sat quietly, appearing to consider Edward's words, then, glancing first at her associates, she turned her full attention on the Chancellor.

"Chancellor Edwards, I'm afraid you are laboring under a misapprehension."

Edwards stiffened. "Excuse me?" her tone was frigid.

Stanhope leaned forward, speaking earnestly. "I believe you are mistaken in our purpose for being here."

"I'm afraid I don't understand you. About what purpose are we speaking? You *do* represent the Joseph Elliot Morgan Foundation?" Edward's face was rigid with disdain.

"Yes," Stanhope answered, leaning back. "We do. However, you seem to believe we wish to prosecute Mr. Sandburg. On the contrary, my colleagues and I are here, at least partially on his behalf.

Beneath her armor Edwards was confused. On Sandburg's *behalf*? Who were these people? No matter. She merely needed to assert her authority.

" 'Counselor,' " Edward's tone dripped disbelief. "I'm going to have to see some identification, or this meeting is at an end. I was led to believe you were associated with the Morgan Foundation. It would seem you are mere confederates of Mr. Sandburg.  If you are here in the mistaken belief that a 'fashionable' " the chancellor's gaze traveled over Stanhope, "suit, a leather briefcase, and some unnamed "friends" will somehow obtain leniency for Mr. Sandburg with the University or the real representatives of the Morgan Foundation, you are sadly mistaken. You will most likely join him when we press charges. We do not tolerate fraud, nor do we excuse imposture."

Edwards stood.

"I will have to ask you to leave."

No one moved.

"Please, do not do me the favor of requiring my secretary to call Campus Security." She walked toward her desk.

"Chancellor Edwards." Edwards turned back to Stanhope, hiding her surprise. The steely voice was somehow at odds with the profile Edwards had built of the fragile-seeming brunette. "I suggest you listen to us."

"Yes?" Despite her surprise Edwards managed a supercilious shade to her words. "I'm listening."

"We *are* who we said we were. I *am* Tonia Wolfe - Stanhope. I*am* a part of the legal team representing the J.E. Morgan Foundation. This gentlemen," she nodded toward the more elderly of her two companions, "is Mr. Francis Stanhope, President of the Board of Directors of the J.E. Morgan Foundation. This Gentleman," she gestured toward her other companion, "is Mr. William Ellison, President of the Board of Directors of the Ellison Corporation. I believe I should also tell you," she continued, "that my husband, Michael Stanhope, the current Director of the Foundation, is presently in New York City with Stephen Ellison and the legal team representing the Ellison Corporation and family in their suit against Sidney Graham and his publishing house."

"We are *not* here to assist you in your vendetta against Blair Sandburg. Among other reasons, we are here on his behalf."

Jackson Kelso's Office
Ranier University

Jack Kelso wheeled his chair out of his office and into the corridor. More than few yards separated his office from the desk of the receptionist/secretary he shared with two other members of the Political Science Department, but he enjoyed her company, and so he usually wheeled himself down the hall to speak with her face to face.

"Jenny."

The pleasant faced, middle-aged blonde raised her head from her filing and smiled at him. "What can I do for you, Mr. Kelso?"

"I'm expecting some visitors in about a half hour, Jenny. Would you show them to my office? There's no need to buzz me."

"Certainly, Mr. Kelso. Their names?"

He grinned. "Their names aren't important,Jenny. They're military. There'll be a Major-General and a lieutenant, possibly a staff sergeant. You'll know them when you see them. Just bring them down to my office, o.k.?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Kelso," she smiled warmly. "No problem."

"Thanks, Jenny," he smiled back. I'll just be in my office." He turned his chair and headed back to his office.

There, he thought, as he wheeled back to his office. Now we'll see what we can do about salvaging this fiasco. I just wish they'd been able to find Ellison.

King County Criminal Justice Academy
Seattle, Washington

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<ring>

“All right, all right! I’m coming!” A stocky man dressed in a blue uniform hurried through an office door, slamming it shut. “Step out for one minute, the phone rings!” He bent over the desk from the wrong side and grabbed the handset.

“Registrar’s Office. Andrews speaking.”  He straightened suddenly. “Slow down! Repeat that!”

“What the...How could he just vanish from an alleyway?”

“As long as Ellison is on leave, I don’t think we have to worry. He probably just came to his senses and wandered away. Did you check...”

“Did any of the patrol cars pick him up?...I *know* Seattle has over 900 police officers! Check the data base!”

“So, what did you find out? Was he clean? Will he go for it, or will we have to use the photo’s?”

“I don’t care what you think. May I remind you what we have at stake here? Worry about yourself! This was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“Yeah, yeah. He got a perfect score, we made sure of that. Got his prints on the answer key...he gave it back to me like a good little Boy Scout. Too bad I wasn’t in the room to verify his story.”

“Oh, yeah, Timmons will swear to it. I sent him back  for that file at just the right time. He saw Sandburg putting the answer key on my desk...only, with a perfect score, it’ll be easy to say he was *taking* it...and then of course, we’ve got the photo’s from the ‘surveillance camera’.”

“With *his* background? Who’s going to believe him?”

"Yes, get those pictures to me immediately.”

“Listen, you do your part, leave the rest to me. We can use this guy. Cascade’s ripe for the picking. We need more men down there, and this will get us into Major Crime. This guy, he’s no lily white virgin; he’s got to be  playing the game already. No other way he’d end up in Bank’s Department, not without some dirt on somebody, not after what he’s pulled.”

“Right. It’s fine. It will all work out. Just get those pictures over here to me. And find out where Sandburg went. He’ll show up back in Cascade one way or another.”

“Right.”

He replaced the handset, letting his hand linger on it for a few seconds while he thought. Shaking his head, he straightened up again and removed his suit jacket, hanging it on the hook by his office door before walking around his desk and finally seating himself. Checking his desktop for any notes or memo’s he might have received since the previous afternoon he reached over and booted up his computer.

Humming to himself, he opened his diskette holder to remove his 'Letters' back-up disk and noticed  several disks  missing from the back. With a growing fear, he pulled the holder closer and searched through the disks to determine just exactly *what* was missing. Damn! His back ups for the “Project” were gone. When was the last time he'd seen them?  Who had he left alone in this room since then? They were encrypted, thank God, but would the encryption hold?

Fear gave birth to fully realized panic . He reached for the phone.

The Bullpen
Major Crime

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<ring>

“Major Crime, Simon Banks office, Rhonda Martin speaking. May I help you?”

“I’m sorry, he’s not available right now. No, I don’t know when he’ll be back. May I take a message?”

“No, Mr. Sandburg isn’t here. No, I don’t know when he’ll be back, either. Yes, that is still his residence of record.”

“No, Detective Ellison isn’t here. He’s still officially on personal leave. No, I don’t know where he is, or where he can be reached. Yes, that is his residence of record, as well.”

“Are you sure there are no messages?”

“Certainly. Good afternoon.”

Rhonda repaced the receiver and stared at it for a few seconds before picking it up and dialing. No messages? Don’t *bother* to tell Captain Banks Fraud called to ask about Blair’s where-abouts? Yeah, right. Sandra would know what was going on in Fraud, and, more imprtantly, owed her a few favors. Time to call them in.

She needed to know the full story before she called Captain Banks and told him that Bunco was looking for Blair. She needed to *know* why they were looking for him, even well-founded guesses wouldn’t be enough. Goodness knew how many rumors were still floating around from the last week or so.

Somebody needed to do something, soon.