Sorry for the radio silence! I've had this chapter halfway written for a while, but didn't find the time to finish it until today. (Well… yesterday, I guess. Since it's midnight now. Oops…)
Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of these characters
…
"Shepherd gave us forty eight hours. That time runs out tomorrow. And I am not abandoning my team," Weller said with a clenched jaw, the tick in his cheek prominent.
"You don't have a choice, Kurt," Pellington said as he stood from his desk.
"You're going to send him to the CIA, knowing that it means the deaths of two FBI agents?" Weller asked accusingly, fixing his boss with an icy glare.
"Technically, Miss Doe is not FBI. She's the reason we're in this mess to start with. And Agent Patterson knew what she signed up for."
"Jane didn't cause any of this. She was manipulated. Sandstorm played her. Sandstorm played all of us. Shepherd is the problem here, not Jane. Jane may only be an asset, but she deserves better than this. And whose fault this is isn't the issue here. The issue is the fact that we aren't actively trying to find my people."
"I'm not sure what you want me to do here, Assistant Director. The CIA prisoner transport vehicle will be here in the morning. They'll crack him in a day or two."
"That won't be soon enough. Why not let me and what's left of my team take him and Roman out and set a trap? We might be able to draw Shepherd out."
Pellington considered it for a moment before shaking his head with shallow regret. "I can't authorize that. Shepherd is far too resourceful. Roman killed four people in that diner right before you captured him. And Nigel Thornton appears to be completely loyal to Shepherd. We can't risk him warning Sandstorm or escaping."
Weller stared at the wall, contemplating what this could mean for his team. He knew that Pellington was right, at least about Thornton, but he still thought they should be doing more than they had.
"Weller," Pellington asked, catching his attention, "you are aware that you can't always save everyone, aren't you?"
Kurt rose from his seat, his jaw set, and walked over to the door before turning to face Pellington.
"Watch me."
…
Tasha tapped her foot impatiently, scowling towards Pellington's office. Weller was wasting time. Time that they didn't have, time that they couldn't afford to lose.
We should be out there, in the field, doing… something.
She sighed. Maybe Weller had a point. There really wasn't anything else that they could do.
Shepherd's always ten steps ahead of us. She always seems to know exactly what we're planning to do. We play right into her hands, every time. Maybe we have another mole. Maybe someone else-
"What did he say?" Reade asked, resigned.
"What do you think he said?" Weller growled, approaching their desks.
"Let me guess. He said that it was 'unfortunate' and that we need to 'figure out something else'" she put in.
Weller nodded somberly, confirming her fears.
"Borden – or whatever his name is, will be placed into CIA custody tomorrow." The fact that the forty-eight hours that they had to save Jane and Patterson would be up by then went without saying.
"So, what are we going to do? Sit here and wait for their executions?" Tasha demanded, her voice breaking.
"No. I have an idea. It might be a long shot, but it's all we have."
"What are you thinking?" Reade asked.
"Remember that little cabin at the nature preserve where Borden took Patterson after he shot her? Shepherd was there at some point. She didn't just disappear into thin air. She went somewhere and I don't think she would have risked being caught on traffic cams."
"So… you're saying that Shepherd was still in the Preserve when we arrested Borden?" Reade asked skeptically.
"I'm saying it's possible. And it isn't much to go on, but it's all we've got."
Reade still looked unconvinced, but Zapata was on board with any idea that involved doing something besides pointlessly arguing with Pellington.
"What are we waiting for? Let's go."
…
30 minutes later, Ward Acres Nature Preserve
By the time they arrive at the cabin, a thin drizzle is falling steadily. Dense, black clouds line the horizon. The tree branches lie ominously still.
The calm before the storm, Weller decides, as a slight rumble of thunder echoes in the small clearing.
He gets out and slams the car door. His boots crunch loudly against the gravel as he walks around the SUV to meet Reade and Zapata.
"Split up and check the woods for anything out of the ordinary. It looks like a thunderstorm is on the way, so move quickly. We'll regroup to clear the cabin in about twenty minutes."
As they search, the rain steadily worsens. The crashes of thunder come more frequently and lightening has begun to crack across the sky in jagged bursts.
The rain started to pelt down in sheets. With the wind howling in their ears, communication became difficult, if not impossible.
"Fall back to the cabin!" Weller yelled, fighting to be heard over the growing storm.
"Copy!"
"On my way!"
They all pause the moment they enter the cabin, Patterson's account of what had happened the only thing any of them are able to think of. Weller is the first one to move for the light switch; if they want their team back, they need to find a lead.
At first glance, nothing seems out of the ordinary. It's not until Weller moves deeper into the shadows that he notices something.
A faint trail of footprints leads through the thick layer of dust covering the floor. He pulls out a flashlight and follows it, careful not to disturb the possible evidence. The trail stops suddenly in front of the adjacent wall.
"I've got something over here," Weller called out. Reade and Zapata hurried over.
"Look at the footprints," Weller continued, "and listen."
He stepped back a few paces and hit his fist against the wall. A sharp, solid crack sounds from the wood paneling. He continues along the wall, slowly.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
Thunk. The hollow noise echoes back from somewhere deep beyond the paneling.
Weller shares a look with his team. "Hear that? Something's behind this wall," he says with certainty.
"Look at the floor," Zapata breathed. "Scrape marks. Quick, help me push this in."
They all lean against the hollow part of the wall, scrambling back in surprise when it rotates inward.
"I can't believe that actually worked," Zapata gasped, almost laughing with relief.
Weller shines the flashlight beam into the dark void, revealing an old spiral staircase leading downward. Suddenly, there's a loud crash and they are plunged into near darkness, the flashlight being the only reason they are still able to see. The lightening had knocked the power out.
Zapata breaks the brief silence. "Okay, I'm just gonna say it. This is like a scene from a low-budget horror movie."
Reade and Weller stare at her for a moment. "What? Are we going down or not?"
She pulls out her own flashlight and starts down the stairs. Weller and Reade glance at each other warily and then back to the staircase. Neither of them notices the figure slinking along the wall behind them. The figure slowly pulls the trigger of the tranquilizer gun, once, twice.
Feeling the tranq darts pierce their skin, the two agents try to call out a warning, but they're too late.
"Would you two hurry up?" Zapata snapped from somewhere below, muttering "Wimps," under her breath.
She'd halfway expected Reade to call out some objection to the statement, but instead there's nothing but two loud thumps.
"Reade? Weller? Where-" Her question is cut short as a gloved hand is placed over her mouth. A needle is plunged into her neck before she can retaliate. She crumples to the floor as the first figure starts down the stairs.
"What do we do now?"
"Get them out of here. Shepherd needs them out of the way for a few hours. Take their phones, but leave them this one. She'll want to talk to them in the morning."
…
Shepherd glances up as her burner phone begins to vibrate. After checking the caller ID, she accepts the call.
"Shepherd." She pauses for a few moments after answering, smiling as she listens to the person on the other end.
"So the transfer is tomorrow? Excellent. Proceed as planned."