Note: This is my first Thoughtcrimes fiction, so please feel free to let me know what you think. Also, please forgive the medical mistakes, as I'm sure there are some.

Thoughtcrimes: The Price of Honor – Chapter 1

"Look, we know the people you work for are responsible for the recent gun thefts and the heist of that shipment of military weapons and explosives. What I need to know, is who they plan on selling them to, when, and where." Brendan Dean sat back in the chair, calmly folding his hands together on the table. He was sitting in an interrogation room across from Carlos Munez, a short and slightly pudgy illegal immigrant from across the southern border. Beside him sat Freya McAllister, his partner, who just happened to be a telepath.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Carlos smugly.

Brendan smiled confidently and turned to look at Freya, who also smiled as she stared intently at their prisoner. "They're selling the weapons to terrorists . . . to a man named Sharif."

Carlos's eyes went wide, his mouth dropping open a little. "How did you know that? I did not say anything. You must not let them think I told you anything or they will kill me. Please, I did not say anything."

Brendan shared a smirk with Freya, confident that they now actually had a fighting chance of stopping the sale of a huge amount of stolen weapons that could eventually kill a lot of people if not recovered soon. He shifted his gaze back at Carlos, who was looking very scared. "You know, Carlos, we could probably offer you some protection if you helped us. Maybe even put out a false story that you were being very uncooperative and that's why we had you isolated."

Carlos hesitated, looking around nervously and wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. "You could do that?"

Brendan nodded. "Absolutely." He leaned forward, gazing intently at the other man. "But I can't help you unless you help me. So, what do you say?"

Carlos licked his lips, rubbing his hands together for a few seconds. "Okay, I will tell you what I know, but you have to protect me."

Brendan gave one big nod. "We will, but you have to talk to me."

Carlos looked intently at Brendan and then at Freya, taking a deep breath, as if to fortify himself. When he looked back at Brendan, he started talking. "Okay. I work for John Walters. I owe the man who helped me into this country a lot of money, and he sold my debt to Walters, so I now I work for him. I do not know when or where the meeting is to take place. It had not been arranged yet when I was arrested, but I do know he was going to Chinatown to set it up."

Brendan sat and stared at the man. "That's it?"

Carlos shrugged. "I can tell you where we had the weapons stored, but with me arrested, it has been moved by now."

Brendan let out a long sigh and bowed his head.

"You did not say what I had to know, only that I told you what I did know. You have to protect me."

Brendan nodded and lifted his head. "I know what I said and you'll get your protection. Just . . . have them call me if you think of anything else. And I'll need that storage site."

Carlos nodded and spouted off an address. Brendan waved to the officers watching from the window and two guards filed in to take Carlos. "Put him in an isolated cell and post a couple of extra guards. Make sure you keep other prisoners away from him." Man, I thought we had it for a minute.

Freya placed a hand on his arm. "It wasn't a total loss. We have a name and a place to start."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I've dealt with Walters before, thought I had him once, but he got off. Come on, we have work to do." Brendan got up and grabbed his coat off the back of the chair. Freya followed him out the door, pulling her own coat on as they walked. Taking out his phone, he called from the hallway to have agents check out the warehouse for the stored weapons.

When they got in the car a few minutes later, she glanced over at Brendan. "Where are we going?"

"I have a source or two in Chinatown. We're going to start asking questions." Brendan smiled as he drove. I also know the best Chinese restaurant you'll ever eat at.

Freya grinned and looked over at Brendan's big grin. "And what if I don't like Chinese?"

Brendan shrugged his shoulders. "Tough."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing I happen to like Chinese."

oOo

After two hours of walking around Chinatown and talking to several people, they still didn't know diddly. As they walked out of a clothing store following their fruitless discussion with Brendan's last source, Freya put her hands on her hips. "We still have nothing. None of those people knew anything."

Brendan calmly nodded. "It's close to lunch. Let's go eat." He smiled at her. "I'll treat."

Freya tilted her head a little, seeking his thoughts. "What aren't you telling me?"

Brendan smiled smugly. I have a few secrets up my sleeve. Walk this way. Brendan sauntered down the sidewalk, only to look over his shoulder to find her imitating his walk, but with an exaggerated swagger. "Funny. You better quit that or I'll start singing Scooby Doo in my head again."

Freya placed her hand over her heart and gasped in mock fear. "No, please, anything but that."

Brendan smiled as she caught up with him. "An old friend owns that wonderful restaurant I was telling you about. He usually knows most of what's going on down here. What he doesn't already know, he can usually find out."

Freya nodded. "An old friend? Is he an informant as well?"

"No, not really. I've known him since I was a kid and he's as honest as anyone you'll ever meet. I don't often ask him for help because I don't want to get him caught in the middle. But when I get in a bind, he's always there." He's never not been there when I needed him. He's one of the few people you can always depend on.

Freya looked at Brendan, studying his face. "He means a lot to you, doesn't he?"

Brendan nodded. "Yeah, he's pretty awesome. You'll like him." Brendan paused and pointed to the door to a red building with gold and black Chinese letters painted on the front. "Here we are." He opened the door and stood aside to let her pass.

They walked into a room with scattered tables and chairs and large paintings with Chinese writing on the walls. It was nice without looking expensive or garish. They stood near the entrance beside a sign saying "Please wait to be seated". It was early for lunch, so only two tables were occupied and a short girl with long dark hair waited on one of them.

"Brendan!"

They looked around the room to see an older Chinese man with long white hair and a long white beard rushing toward them. He bowed to Brendan and then the two hugged, Brendan dwarfing the small man.

The old man eyed the agent as he pulled away. "Brendan, it has been too long since I see you last. You are well?"

Brendan grinned. "I'm fine, Chen. How have you been?"

"We are well. Mai is here somewhere. She will be happy to see you." You look tired, which means you have been working too hard again.

Brendan finally remembered Freya, standing at his side. "Oh, uh, Chen Wei, this is Freya McAllister. She works with me. Freya, this is Chen, the proud owner of this magnificent restaurant."

Chen bowed to Freya. "Do not listen to Brendan. He is kissing up for free meal."

Brendan rolled his eyes. "Right, like you've ever let me pay for anything."

Chen shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say, I feel sorry for the boy. He is skinny, works too hard, and has no love life."

Brendan pursed his lips and sighed heavily. "Could we get a table, preferably without analyzing my life?"

Chen waved his arm around the room. "Take your pick."

Brendan looked at the room and motioned toward the far corner. "What about that back table?"

Chen narrowed his gaze. "You need to talk?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so."

Chen nodded and grabbed a couple of menus. "Let me get you seated and turn orders in and then I will sit with you a moment." He led the way to the table in the far back corner and handed them each a menu. They gave him their drink orders and he left. A slender girl of about twenty came out with their drinks a few minutes later. She smiled as she set the drinks on the table.

"Thanks," said Brendan as he looked up. "Mai?"

"Grandfather said you were here, but I didn't believe him. You haven't been by in forever. We've missed you."

Brendan grinned sheepishly. "I know, I've been busy lately."

Mai arched one eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. "You always did work too hard. You need to chill every so often, take a break." And you are still the hottest thing in pants.

Freya looked quickly down at her menu, trying desperately not to laugh. She peeped over her menu to see Brendan scowling at her.

"I'm ready to order, Freya, what about you?" You're up to something.

Freya nodded. "I'm ready," she said, plastering on an innocent smile.

After shooting her another warning glance, Brendan ordered his lunch and then Freya did as well. Mai gathered the menus and moved to stand right next to Brendan. "Don't be such a stranger," she seemed to breathe out. Yeah, I'd definitely like to spend some time with you. Always have.

They watched as the slender girl moved away, her curves filling out the long silk dress in a very attractive way. "She has such a crush on you."

Brendan choked on the water he was drinking and almost knocked the glass over trying to set it down. "She does not. She's just being nice." He coughed and sputtered for several more moments, trying to catch his breath.

Freya chuckled and shook her head. "No, she really does have a major crush. She was thinking –"

Brendan frowned and shook his head. "I don't want to know that. Gosh, she's like my kid sister or something."

Freya shrugged her shoulders and giggled. "Hey, I just hear the thoughts, I don't control them."

Chen pulled out the chair next to Freya and sat down, looking across the table at Brendan. "You wanted to talk?"

Brendan nodded. "Yeah, look, I hate to get you mixed up in this, but we have a major problem. We've been tracking a group led by a man named John Walters. They've stolen weapons and explosives and have accumulated quite a stockpile. We have information that says they're going to sell to terrorists and that he came down to Chinatown to set up the buy. I need to know when and where this meeting is going to be."

Chen frowned. "Terrorists? That is bad, very bad. Such people have no honor, and neither do those that would sell to them."

"Yeah," agreed Brendan. "A lot of people will die if we don't intercept those weapons before they get sold."

Chen nodded once and sighed. "There is some big meeting to take place in three days. This is probably the meeting you seek, but I have not heard a time or place. It has been very . . . hush hush."

Brendan smiled a little, his eyes glittering. "What are the chances of you finding out a little more?"

Chen looked at him very seriously and then let a small smile play out over his lips. "Pretty good, if you promise to come entertain an old man a little more often."

Freya chose this moment to jump in. "Oh, I think I can guarantee that. I can be very persuasive when I want to be."

Chen's smile broadened. "I am sure of that. Then I will endeavor to find information for you." And you should pay more attention to this very pretty lady, not let her slip through your fingers.

Brendan's smile quickly sobered and he leaned forward, making direct eye contact with Chen. "You need to be careful. These people have already killed and they won't hesitate to do it again. If you have to endanger yourself to get the information, then let it go. We'll find out another way."

Chen waved his hand dismissively. "Do not fret about an old man. I will be fine. Honor dictates that I must help you find these men and stop them if I can."

Brendan shook his head. "No, honor dictates that you stay safe and take care of Mai. This is my job, Chen, it's what I do. Don't take chances." I don't think I could live with myself if you or Mai got hurt trying to help me.

Freya hesitated, then placed her hand over the old man's. "Brendan's right about this. These people are dangerous and you have to be very careful."

Chen smiled and nodded, placing his other hand on Freya's. "I understand and I will be careful. You are a very caring young woman, Freya McAllister. Be sure to take care of Brendan. He needs someone to look after him."

Brendan rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "Oh, for crying out loud," he mumbled. "I do not need someone to look after me. I'm doing just fine on my own. And quit trying to change the subject."

Chen chuckled and pulled his hands back. "All right, but I will be careful. I will call you tonight as soon as I know anything. Now, I must go check on your meal." Chen rose and bowed before moving off to the kitchen.

Freya watched him go. "He's sweet. He worries about you."

Brendan shifted around in his chair, thankful for the arrival of their food. "Thanks, Mai, it smells great." He purposely ignored both women and dug his fork deep into the pile of food.

oOo

Freya stepped into the large room, hidden in the darkness of the unlit half. A lone figure sat hunched over a desk, staring at the open file in front of him. I have to have missed something. I've been over it and over it and I just can't figure out what's missing, but there has to be something here. I can't screw this one up.

Freya sighed and walked forward until she was standing beside Brendan's desk. "It's late, Brendan. You need to go home."

He looked up at her, eyes dark and dull with frustration as well as exhaustion. He ran one hand through his hair, something he'd apparently done a lot of because it literally stood on end all over his head. He might look comical if he didn't look so discouraged. "It's not quite nine yet. That's not late in my book. Besides, I'm waiting on Chen to call."

Freya pulled up a chair and plopped into it. "It's late by most people's standards, at least those who aren't trying to work themselves into an early grave."

Brendan snorted. "I'm just trying to do my job." If I don't do my job and do it well, Harper will find someone else who will. I worked too hard to get where I am and I'm not giving it up without a fight. This is what I was meant to do.

"Well, you can't do your job if you drop from exhaustion."

"Let's not get overly dramatic here, it's just nine o'clock. Plenty of people put in late nights when needed, especially in this town."

Freya crossed her arms. "Well, they probably didn't stay at work all night the night before."

Brendan's head snapped up. "How did you . . . oh, yeah, never mind. So I didn't go home last night. I caught a couple of hours on the couch, I'm fine."

"How many other nights have you not gone home or only gone home for a few hours over the past week? I think lunch today was the first actual meal I've seen you eat in days. You've got to learn to back off and not let these cases take over your life. I feel the need to remind you about what happened five months ago."

Brendan sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Five months ago I got knocked in the head and had a concussion. So what."

Freya smiled. "You don't actually think I've forgotten they kept you an extra two days for exhaustion, do you? Then there's the borderline malnutrition because when you're on one of your obsessive cases, you don't eat, you know, sort of like now."

Brendan scowled and looked down at the folder, refusing to make eye contact. There wasn't much he could say in his defense. She was right. I have to focus when I'm on a case. My mistakes can get people killed. My mistakes have gotten people killed. I can't afford to screw up again.

Freya let out a long breath and shook her head. "Brendan –"

She was interrupted by Brendan's cell phone ringing. He grabbed it off his desk, flipping it open and almost slamming it to the side of his face. "Dean." A look of relief crossed his face. "Chen, please tell me you know something." He grinned at Freya and nodded his head. "We'll be there in twenty minutes." Slapping the phone shut as he stood up, he grabbed his coat from the back of the chair. "He's got a time and place for us, but he says he needs to see us."

Freya could do little but hurry to catch up as Brendan practically ran out the door. At least they were getting some information. Maybe they could wrap this one up before he ended up in the hospital again, or on some psychiatrist's couch.

oOo

"Where are we going?" asked Freya, watching the snow begin to fall, tiny flakes gently floating down to melt against the warmth of the windshield.

"Chen and Mai live in an apartment above the restaurant. We're meeting him . . . " Brendan trailed off as he leaned forward, his chin almost touching the steering wheel as he peered over the tops of the buildings. His expression darkened. "Smoke."

Freya leaned forward to follow his gaze. "Do you think that's Chen's place?"

Brendan frowned as he stared ahead and gunned the car forward. I don't much believe in coincidences.

They heard sirens in the distance as they pulled into a parking spot across the street from the restaurant, watching the smoke pour from the building. A few people were walking down the street toward the burning building, pointing and talking excitedly.

Brendan stepped out into the strong, icy wind, drawing his coat around him at the chill that seemed to slice right into him, increasingly large snowflakes pelting him in the face. "You stay here. Call it in and make sure help is on the way."

Freya ran around the car and grabbed his arm, stopping his forward progress. "Brendan, you can't go in there."

Brendan pulled his arm free, shouting back at her as he ran. "I have to get Chen and Mai out of there while there's still time. Call it in and stay here."

Freya was torn between going after him and calling for help. She assumed the sirens that were obviously getting closer were for here, but she didn't know for sure. If no one was coming and she just ran in after him, chances were that they all might die. With a loud, angry groan, she pulled out her phone and began calling for help.

Brendan found the front door open a crack, which further solidified his belief that wasn't an accident. He rushed in, smoke curling all around him. "Chen? Mai?" He made a quick trip through the restaurant, seeing nothing but smoke as he dodged flames. Most of the flames seemed to be upstairs, but they were spreading fast and the air was becoming too hot to breathe. He knew he was almost out of time. He rushed to the stairs in the back, taking them two at a time to the first landing.

He turned to go up the second half and gasped. Most of the top floor was involved, but he thought he saw a small path down the center of the hall above. Pulling his coat up over his mouth with his left hand, he squinted his eyes against the heated air and smoke and began making his way carefully up the stairs. He didn't have the breath to call out for the people he was searching for. He had made it almost halfway when the building rocked with an explosion. There was a blast of hot air and something impacted his left shoulder, sending him flying back into the wall below. He was briefly aware of a flash of hot pain before his head rammed against the wall and everything went black.

TBC