Malone was a little more forthcoming with information in the car on the way back to their motel.  It transpired that he wasn't joking when he said it was pure luck that they'd caught Davies and recovered Sam.  It was.  Davies and his pal, Jacobs had switched cars, and consequently the APB put out on Davies' car would have resulted in nothing.  They had been already out of the state and almost through the next one before they were stopped.  Sam probably owed his life to a bored and eagle-eyed State Trooper and a broken taillight.  The trooper had grown suspicious when the occupants of the nondescript Ford he'd stopped had seemed overly nervous, and his suspicions were confirmed when he'd heard noises from the trunk.

When Malone informed Chris of the facts in his cold, dry voice, Chris had had to fight down another surge of fear.  Luck was the word.  There were too many 'ifs' in what had happened for him to feel at ease.  He knew that dwelling on the past did no good - god, he'd had enough practice of 'what ifs' when Annie died - but he couldn't seem to be able to stop the thoughts running through his mind.  The only comfort he could take was that this time, unlike Annie, the 'what ifs' were the horrors, and the actuality wasn't.  It was a comfort.  Would be more of a comfort if there hadn't been this little thought running through his head - 'next time'.

He focused on the tasks in hand instead, found it easier to keep the panic at bay that way.  Pack his stuff.  Move to Sam's room and pack his partner's stuff - much easier to pack than his had been but then it wasn't spread haphazardly all over the floor or the bed the way his clothes had been.  Sam always told him he was a pig.  Get back downstairs to meet Malone, who was already tapping his fingers impatiently against the counter at Reception, and then off to Tennessee.  Off to recover Sam.

It took them considerably less than sixteen hours to reach Sam's location, a small town not far from the state border with Missouri.  Where the hell they'd been headed too was anybody's guess.  Malone had appropriated a light aircraft from somewhere, and Chris was allocated the task of flying it, which at least gave him something to concentrate on other than the number of minutes until he got to see Sam.  Even so, by the time they reached their destination, Chris was wound up almost beyond bearing.

The relief surged again when he finally set eyes on his partner.  They had Sam ensconced in an interview room, talking to two agents from the FBI, the CI5 team were informed, so his first sight of his friend was through cold glass.  Sam appeared to be bearing up well Chris was pleased to note.  There were some signs of tiredness in his face, and there was a bandage taped to his forehead and some bruising around his jaw line, but his eyes were bright and his expression focused as he sat reviewing the facts of the case so far.

"Good man you got there," came a voice from behind them.  Chris turned to find himself being introduced to 'Agent Andrews, head of the field office here'.

"Thank you, Agent Andrews," replied Malone.  "I take it he's being helpful."  Andrews, a very tall and broad individual, snorted at some secret source of amusement.

"Could say that, I suppose.  Turns out our little 'patriots' in there," he gestured behind him at what Chris could only presume were the cells or interview rooms containing the suspects, "are talkative souls."  Chris turned his attention back to Sam, allowing the rest of the conversation to flow over him, listening with only half an ear.

"They've talked to you?" asked Malone, his interest piqued.

Andrews snorted again.  It appeared to be a trademark of his.  "Not exactly," he replied.  "Seems they spent most of the trip up here boasting about what they were gonna do and what they done.  And your guy heard most of it from the trunk.  Not all of it, but enough for us to pressure the three of them with."

"Three?"

"Yeah, he says you were watching Davies and we were watching Jacobs.  They picked up a third guy, name of Caleb Adams according to his driving licence, once they crossed the border into Tennessee.  Curtis thinks he might be the weak link, that we might get to the others through him.  Did most of the boastin', according to Curtis."

Malone nodded, satisfied.  "But you've made no progress so far?"

Andrews shook his head slowly.  "We only got here 'bout an hour ago, and we've been debriefing your guy since.  Figured we'd wait for you to turn up, since this seems to be CI5 business.  Besides, if Curtis is right about Adams, and from what I've seen of that weasel I've no doubt that he is, leaving him to sweat awhile won't do any harm."  He turned suddenly sharp eyes on Malone.  "The three of them have been screaming for attorneys.  We've kept them isolated for now.  Curtis said something about them tipping off their compadres?"

"That was always a risk, Agent Andrews.  However, you seem to have things under control.  Thank you."  Now that the end was potentially in sight, Malone could afford to be generous.  Besides, it was a pleasant change when CI5 were respected these days, instead of having to fight their corner as well as the bad guys.

"Guess you'll want to talk to your guy now?"

"If that can be arranged."

"No problems there.  I take it you'll share anything else he tells you with us?"

"Of course."

It was Chris' turn for close scrutiny as Andrews turned his formidable attention on him.  "Your partner, isn't he?"

"Yes."

Andrews smiled briefly, the expression suddenly lightening the harsh angles of his face.  "Guess you'll be pleased to have him back."

Chris found himself returning the smile almost before he realised it.  "You know what it's like," he replied.  "They're hell to break in, so when you've got one trained up..."

"I heard that," interrupted Sam's tired voice from behind him.  It took all of Chris' self control to keep his beaming smile down to a relatively low wattage.

"You were meant to."  Up close his partner looked even more tired, the bruise on his jaw dark against his pale face.  Chris couldn't resist reaching out to touch him, grasping his chin and tilting his face to the side so he could see the injury better.  He could only cover the moment with a joke for the benefit of the other two men.  "This Janice Robinson, she's what?  Five foot nothing in her stocking feet?  Want to explain how she managed to take you out?"

"She had a gun."

"Lost yours again did you?"

"Very funny, Keel.  She also had help."

"Yeah.  Two guys?  That all?  You're slipping, mate."

"Ha ha.  If this is your idea of revenge for Richmond..."

"Nah.  So, did Robinson black your jaw for you?"

"No, that was Davies."

"Not slipping that badly then.  What about this one?" asked Chris, gesturing towards Sam's head wound.

"Davies again," sighed Sam, smiling slightly.

"That's two we owe him."

"Three," replied Sam.  "You haven't seen the bruise on my hip yet."

"I think I'll pass," grinned Chris.

Malone cleared his throat.  "When you gentlemen have quite finished..."

"Sir," they chorused, a little sheepishly, trying hard not to smile at each other.  He harrumphed a little, but let it slide, his keen eyes measuring them.  They kept their expressions as bland as they were able to.

"I understand from what Agent Andrews told me that these individuals let slip some information, is that correct Mr Curtis?"

"Yes sir," replied Sam, all business.  "I overheard some things which might be useful.  Nothing specific about what they're planning, not even Adams is that stupid, but some hints that what they're planning is big, and that it involves a government building.  I got the impression that they don't quite trust Adams, but that he may know some more that's useful anyway.  Maybe enough to give us some leverage over the other two..."  Sam shrugged eloquently, his eyes fixed on Malone's face.  "I'd like a go at him sir."

"You think that's wise, son?" interrupted Andrews, his forehead creasing with concern.  His eyes scanned over Sam's face taking in the sign of exhaustion and the marks of violence.  Chris found himself stiffening on his partner's behalf, but Sam took the question in his stride.

"I think it will give us an edge.  He won't be expecting it, and anything that throws him further off balance has got to help.  Turn the tables on him.  He had me in his control, now it's the other way around."

Andrews still didn't look convinced, and Malone was keeping his own counsel, his sharp eyes flitting from Sam to Chris.  Chris backed his partner up.

"He's right.  Psychologically speaking, it puts us in control.  We can exploit that, especially if this guy is already freaked."

Malone finally spoke up.  "You did say that you considered this to be a CI5 operation, Agent Andrews.  I believe that it's worth a try."  He fixed Sam with a hard stare.  "If you are up to it, Mr Curtis."

Bad move, thought Chris.  There was no way in hell that Sam was going to back away from that.  He was right, as Sam looked Malone squarely in the eye and coolly stated, "I'm fine, sir."

There was no question in Chris' mind that he would be in on the interrogation.  They were a team after all.  Besides, he wanted to get a good, long look at one of the bastards who had locked *his* partner in the trunk of a car for sixteen hours.  And maybe break his neck into the bargain.

Sam paused outside the interview room, waiting for Andrews and Malone to enter the viewing room next door.  "Psychologically speaking?  Where did you learn big words like that?"

"Well, I have this anally retentive English partner.  Guess I must have been hanging out with him for too long."

"Fuck you."

"You already have," grinned Chris.

There was a slightly awkward silence while they both checked that Malone and Andrews were out of earshot, before Sam cleared his throat and asked, "You want to be good cop or bad cop?"

"How about you be bad cop and I be completely psychopathic cop?"

"Same old routine then."

"Fuck you."

"You wish."

"Yeah, I do."  He couldn't help it, the happiness almost bubbling up in him now that he knew that Sam was safe.

Sam covered his surprised start with cough, and gave him a brief smile before they entered the interview room, their faces automatically assuming the hard-edged expressions that served them so well in these situations.