Title: Holiday Revenge (3/?)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Pike/Archer, Kirk/McCoy
Summary: Sequel to Goodbye, Holidays. Events turn ugly, for Kirk’s enemy has found the perfect way to pay Kirk back for his meddling.
Parts: 1 | 2

Part Three

Steam rises into the morning air. Jon cradles the paper cup in his hand more for something to do rather than for warmth. Right now, there isn’t anything in the world that could warm the coldness inside him.

He pretends to sip at his cooling coffee (provided by Officer Phil on his return from the station) and watches the scene unfold in front of him. Kirk gesticulates with barely contained anger. Liu responds in a cool, collected fashion. Wash, rinse, repeat. A few minutes later, Jim, having lost his argument, tucks his hands into his armpits and glowers at the retreating woman’s back. He pivots and with a grudging shuffle across the forest floor heads in Archer’s direction.

Jon lowers his cup when Jim arrives, stating preemptively, “No.”

Jim glowers at him too. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I’m sure it was a suggestion of something dumb, dangerous, or both.”

“Fuck you, Archer.”

“That’s ‘fuck you, Sheriff’,” he responds in his mildest tone. He has been learning a thing or two from Liu.

Jim kicks at the grass.

Jon sighs internally. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you.”

“I found it. I had to give a statement.”

Kirk closes his eyes and looks away.

Jon feels inexplicably bad. “Jim, these people know how to do their jobs. Your prowling the area is only making them jumpy.”

Jim shoves his fingers through his hair so hard Jon sympathizes with the kid’s scalp.

“I’m not trying to hinder anyone,” Kirk counters, his angry posture having collapsed a little. “I just… I have to know.“

“I get it,” Jon says, because to him Jim simply looks scared, not scary. “I have no idea what to tell you, son. This investigation and wrap-up will take a few hours before they can move the car to the lab. If a report is ready by noon, it would be a miracle.” He hesitates, wanting nothing more than anything to stay and observe Liu’s operation. “I’ll drive you back to the station.”

Jim doesn’t respond for a long time. When he does, he only remarks, “I’m not your son.”

Jon nods and pours his remaining coffee into the bushes. “Got it. Let’s roll.”

Jim follows him down the dirt road, away from the police cruisers and lab trucks. Jon figures the kid has to be as sick to his stomach about the turn of events as Jon is but it can’t be helped. What they have discovered is unexpected, upsetting, yet what they know about it is very little. This is the worst part of the investigation for someone on the outside of it, the waiting game.

As Jonathan reaches the driver’s side of his vehicle, he has determined a temporary solution. He digs out his keys, and they climb inside the truck. “You know,” he murmurs as he starts the engine, “McCoy is coming in a few hours.”

Kirk freezes in the act of hooking in his seatbelt and swears creatively.

Jon presses on, “Be damned rude thing not to let your boyfriend know what he’s walking into.”

Jim slumps over a little. “But we don’t know anything yet.”

“We know that your dad is missing.”

Kirk turns silent again, the kind that implies he is thinking very, very hard about his options.

Jon points the truck towards the highway. “My advice would be to call him now and pray he forgives you for not waking him sooner.”

“I left my phone at the house.”

Jon pulls out his cell and tosses it into the man’s lap.

Listening to Jim mutter under his breath about pushy sheriffs, Jon feels one knot of tension in him ease. If he can’t keep Kirk from going off the rails, maybe Leonard McCoy can.

The drive back to town is an entertaining one-sided conversation of Jim scaring the shit of his boyfriend by calling him just after the crack of dawn and explaining in stops and starts that Armageddon hasn’t happened but something equally frightening has. By the time the phone conversation is done, Kirk looks exhausted yet oddly more collected.

Jon tucks the returned cell phone against the gear shift between them.

“Bones will meet us at the station.”

Archer nods, glad to hear. He thinks, Thank god for the cavalry.

~~~

The cavalry looks like a dead badger somebody revived during a Frankenstein experiment. Jon didn’t know it was possible to leave one’s house with two mismatched shoes when they’re both for the left foot. And he is fairly certain McCoy must have stuck his finger in an electrical socket about five times before donning the first shirt and pair of pants he could find.

Neither Jim or Leonard seem to notice anything amiss with each other’s appearance, one in a Hawaiian print shirt over stained medical scrubs and the other still in 1980s plaid pajamas.

Upon arriving, McCoy doesn’t barge into the precinct demanding answers like Kirk had done at the scene of the police cruiser. He just makes a beeline for Jim, at the last second swerving so he comes to a stop between Jim, Jon and Carlos, and asks like he is terrified of the answer, “What’s going on?” Then when Jim starts to wilt, Leonard grabs onto and cocoons his boyfriend, visibly steeling himself for whatever horrific news the police have to share.

Carlos explains politely, “We don’t know much about Pike’s disappearance yet. A search is underway.”

Jim lifts his head from McCoy’s shoulder, adding, “Bones, I have this bad feeling. Dad would never forget to call.”

Carlos quietly excuses himself.

Jonathan would step aside too but he can see the questions piling up in Jim’s boyfriend’s eyes. It looks like he’ll be the one to answer them. “You already know Chris started back at work yesterday. He took on a new case, went out for a routine interview, and never made it back to the station or the house. Early this morning, we located his cruiser outside the city… in an unusual condition.”

Leonard’s arms tighten around Jim. “An accident?”

Jon shakes his head. “Deliberate damage.”

Jim pulls back from McCoy, turning on Jon, his expression wavering between shocked and pissed. “You didn’t say that before!”

The accusation catches Jon off-guard. “What, that the state of the car is intentional? Well, hell, kid, that’s obvious to anybody with two eyes!”

Jim’s arm snaps out to grab Jon, his cry of “What do you mean?” ringing clear across the bullpen. Leonard intervenes by forcing Kirk’s arm back down to his side.

“Jim, no,” McCoy states firmly. Then to Archer, “Clearly you have a few thoughts that you haven’t fully shared.”

Jon stares at him.

Leonard meets his stare dead-on. “That was not a suggestion, Sheriff.”

He doesn’t know whether he is miffed or impressed that this one can use his authority against him. Fine, he will give Sourpatch this round. After all, the guy did stop Kirk from strangling him.

“Stolen police and government vehicles which are stripped down for parts nine times out of ten are never found because the GPS tracker is the first thing any street thug in the scrap business knows to rip out. Combine that with the fact we found the car out in the woods, far from any garage. Why bother to haul it out there when the damn thing can be melted down?”

Leonard shakes his head slightly. “You’re saying someone wanted the car to be found. But who would do that except a—” The man’s mouth snaps shut on the last word but it’s too far late.

Jim looks ill. “Except a kidnapper.”

Jon clamps a hand on Kirk’s shoulder, looking around furtively. “We’re not talking definitively, Jim. Liu will make the call when she has more information.”

His attempts to stop a rumor from spreading like wildfire is for naught. As if conjured by the mere mention of her name, Captain Liu steps into the precinct and barks to all personnel within hearing distance, “Briefing room, five minutes!” Amidst the sudden flurry of activity, she barrels straight towards Jon, catching his arm to drag him along with her as she orders, “Sheriff Archer, in my office, now.“

Being towed as he is, it isn’t like he can argue with the woman. It also seems prudent not to mention that Jim and Leonard are right on their heels. The three men crowd into the office and around the desk as Liu shuts the door. She doesn’t cross the room.

“I will come to the point.” She focuses on Pike’s son. “Jim, I’m sorry. Your father is not missing. He was taken. The GPS tracker we recovered will help us approximate where and when but by whom and why still remain unknown. We’ll keep you posted as we know more. Given this change, we have some additional questions to ask you. It shouldn’t take long. After that I suggest you go home. Rest.”

“No,” Jim says, then with more denial, “no, Captain, I’m not going anywhere.”

“We need you at your house,” Liu amends, “in case the kidnappers try to contact you. As I said, we don’t know much about their motive right now. I’m not sending you alone.”

“Damn right you’re not!” Leonard bursts out.

Liu’s slicing look says, I’ll figure out who the hell you are later, before she returns her attention to Kirk. “A surveillance team will accompany you.”

Only a surveillance team? Jon sticks his hands into his jacket pockets so no one can see them shaking. “What makes you confident that he was kidnapped?”

Liu finally looks to him. The gun she draws out of an inner pocket from her coat is not for show. It is encased in a plastic bag along with a small piece of paper. “The firearm is registered to Pike. This, along with a ransom note, was dropped off by the receptionist’s station about an hour ago.”

“What?” McCoy exclaims. “Someone just waltzed in here and handed you that? Did you see who the bastard was?”

Liu’s granite expression is an answer to that.

Jon experiences a surreal moment as he takes the evidence bag and turns it over to see the note. Printed in large font, the message reads, We have your friend. 2 million or you can bury him.

No information on how to keep in contact, no specified timeframe, nothing except a confirmation that Pike is in someone’s possession and his life is worth two million dollars.

Jim tries to read the note. Jon hands it back to Liu and repeats what it says verbatim in a flat voice.

“Oh god,” Leonard says, looking green. “Jim…”

Jim stares at Jon. Jon has to look away.

Liu breaks the silence. “Mr. Kirk, I formally request that you and your family cooperate with us in the recovery of your father.” She twists the doorknob in her hand. “Take a moment. An officer will be with you shortly. Try to answer his questions as best you can.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jim says, voice barely audible.

At the same time Liu opens the door, she also reaches for Kirk, her hand brushing his shoulder. “Jim… we’ll get him back. Hang in there.”

Jim’s dull gaze follows her out the door. “Hang in there,” he repeats hollowly once she is gone, the blinds over the door swinging in her wake.

Jonathan watches Leonard take Jim gently by the arm and move him towards a chair.

In the end, Jim’s knees refuse to bend. His head comes up slightly, his hands clench and unclench, signs of him shucking off his shock. Then he wants to know, rather abruptly, “For kidnapping, we call the Feds, right?”

“Yeah,” Jon confirms. “In this case, the Captain will call in the FBI.”

Jim pushes past Leonard and circles Liu’s desk, picking up her phone receiver from its cradle.

Leonard goes after him, clearly somewhat stupefied. “Jim, what’re you doing?”

Jim dials a number with intense focus. He doesn’t look up. “Calling Number One.”

Jon doesn’t know what that means but in that moment he wouldn’t refuse any avenue of help. As certain as he felt Pike’s disappearance amounted to a kidnapping after finding the car, to have the reality confirmed is no kinder than a physical blow.

Worse yet, Jonathan is helpless—out of his jurisdiction. He can’t call in his boys, can’t take the lead on the case, cannot even expect that Liu will tolerate his presence for much longer. Jim is Pike’s family. He is not. He has no rights other than to support the family of the victim. What is he going to do?

Logically he should reveal that he is the boyfriend. But will that jeopardize the only card he has to play by admitting his personal connection to Pike? On the slim chance he convinces Liu to request his assistance in an official capacity, he could become part of the team. She likely won’t give him that chance if she finds out he has been sleeping with, not to mention living with, Pike.

What would Chris do?

Jon studies Jim, who is talking a mile a minute over the phone, having connected with the mysterious Number One. From Pike’s perspective, the answer would be simple: go where you can do the most good. But Jon has never found it easy determining where the most good is achieved.

When he looks at Jim, he sees a kid who needs his father. Jon can’t be Pike for Jim. He can recover Pike for Jim, however, and by doing so can also follow his heart, which wants nothing more than to bring Chris safely home. Maybe the choice is simple after all.

Yet, despite all, Archer’s misery compounds. He acknowledges that this is why he will never be the second parent that Pike would eventually desire him to be. He is incapable of putting another’s needs before his own. He is far too selfish.

Thankfully, the sound of Jim hanging up the phone brings Jon out of his head.

Leonard takes the question right out of Jon’s mouth. “Who is Number One?”

Jim hangs his head a moment as if it requires all his energy just to remain upright. Slowly he explains, “Dad’s old partner. They broke up when she signed on with the FBI. We still keep in touch.”

“Broke up?” Jon repeats, because that is the strangest way he has ever heard someone phrase an end to a partnership between cops.

Jim is mumbling now as he lets Leonard finally tug him away from the desk and to a chair to sit down. “I liked Number One. They almost married.”

“You’re not making any sense,” McCoy complains, brushing the hair away from Kirk’s eyes with tenderness. “Was Number One his partner or his girlfriend?”

“Both.”

Odd sounds greet Jon’s ears: a scrape of shoe against floor, a loud bump behind him. The blinds on the door rattle.

Jon realizes belatedly, mouth dry, that he is the one who just backed up into the closed door. From the way Jim and Leonard are staring at him, they can’t figure out why he did that either.

“Oh,” he says, “that Number One.”

Jon has no clue who Number One is, has never heard her real name (unless Number One is her real one?) or the fact that she both worked with and was engaged to the man he is currently dating. A relationship, in Jim’s opinion, that should have been an ace-in-the-hole.

His voice comes out strange. “When’s she coming?”

“As soon as she clears it with her boss.” Jim rubs a hand over his face, sitting up straighter, more coherent. However that doesn’t prevent McCoy, doctor before boyfriend, from taking Kirk’s pulse. “We need her. If anyone can find Dad, she can.”

Jon says nothing. What is there to say? He truly is willing to accept any help. If Pike’s ex-fiancée is the ticket to Pike’s survival, Jon would fetch her from across the country himself if he had to.

But knowing she will be here, in a way, helps him decide another matter.

“Listen,” he says, garnering Kirk and McCoy’s attention once again. “I need a favor. Don’t tell anyone I’m with Pike.”

Leonard is taken aback. “What?”

Jim just gives him an odd look. “Why?”

“I want to do what I can to help, not get tossed out on my ass.” Hopefully that answer is sufficient for them. Well, maybe not for McCoy, who doesn’t look agreeable at all.

It is Jim who says, “Okay,” and then adds as an afterthought, “I wouldn’t have told anyone anyway. It’s embarrassing.”

“Jim!”

“Just saying, Bones. It’s embarrassing that Dad wants to date Archer.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Kirk,” Jon retorts, conjuring up a half-hearted smirk. He turns to face the door. “McCoy, don’t let your dopey boyfriend wander around on his own. I’m going to sneak a donut and eavesdrop on the briefing.”

Closing the door behind him, he is so grateful to be by himself that his gratitude causes him to shake. There would be no other reason for the shaking, no reason at all, except…

He shuts down that line of thinking.

Now where is that damn Briefing Room?

~~~

Jon has not tried kicking in the door yet. Just why is Liu so determined to keep him out here? How rude was it, when he ‘accidentally’ stumbled into the middle of her meeting, to have him hauled out like a transient? Since then, Jon has tried a glass against the door, tried cracking open the tiny window above the doorway (he almost broke that, and Liu almost handcuffed him to a chair in retaliation) and bribing any loitering rookie, all of whom refused to sneak inside the room and then spill their guts to him later.

He sighs. There’s nothing else he can do now except pull the fire alarm.

Just then, someone comes up behind him and taps him on the shoulder. Jon reacts by nearly spilling coffee down his front and banging his head into the very door he wants desperately to open.

Liu’s shout is loud enough to carry from within: “ARCHER, GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!“

Leonard, the person who just scared Jon shitless, purses his mouth. “Did you piss off Mr. Pike’s boss already?”

“No,” Jon says, rubbing his sore temple, and, “Yes, maybe.”

McCoy crosses his arms over his chest. “I won’t ask.”

“Good.”

“So… How are you holding up?”

Jon clears his throat and tries to look like he’s in control of himself. “It’s all fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. This isn’t my first rodeo at the O-K Kidnap Corral.”

McCoy has taken to staring at him intently. “I think you are good at deflecting.”

“I’m fine,” Archer mutters again, this time through gritted teeth.

“I don’t buy it,” Leonard insists. “If Jim were the one in Pike’s situation, I would be out of my mind right now. Frankly I’m kinda out of my mind just because it’s Mr. Pike, so you can’t be fine.”

Jon would never admit to that. “I told you to watch Kirk. Why aren’t you watching Kirk?” He has a sudden terrible thought. “Oh shit. Is he loose somewhere?”

Kirk’s boyfriend rolls his eyes. “No, he is still contained, thank god. Some lieutenant came in and Jim seems to think he’s a guy to respect so I left them to it.”

It is more likely that the officer booted McCoy out since Leonard isn’t kin to Pike, on paper or otherwise.

Jon shifts his stance and rolls his shoulders to relieve some of the tension cramping them up. The motions don’t work. It also seems to be his luck that McCoy does not take the hint that Jon can stare longingly at the off-limits Briefing Room just fine without him.

Leonard decides to lean against the wall, his subsequent appraisal of Jon not subtle at all. Jon finds he is unnerved by McCoy’s clinical air.

“How much are you still drinking?” the man asks.

The question is out of nowhere that Jon can discern, and besides it’s none of McCoy’s business. He tells him so.

McCoy shrugs. “I’m trying to estimate the damage.”

“Damage?” Jon echoes.

“How far down the bottle this episode is going to put you.”

Jon stiffens, very offended. “Episode? Episode? Chris gets fucking taken hostage against his will and you think it’s an episode?!”

“That’s right. Episode. Trigger. Catalyst. I can call it whatever I like but it amounts to the same thing.” Leonard stares hard at him. “Are you in any condition to handle this, Jonathan?”

Jon plants a fist against the wall and leans toward McCoy, not only to intimidate him but to keep their conversation private. “You have some balls, kid. You’re not my doctor or my psychologist. Like I said, none of your damn business.”

“Very likely you have seen neither of those in the last decade—and so it is my business. Because Jim is my business, Jim’s dad is my business, therefore Jim’s dad’s—” He stops himself from saying the actual word aloud, referring instead to, “You are my business. I get that you thrive under pressure. You wouldn’t be in this line of work if you didn’t. However, you have also been under more than the average amount of pressure lately. Chris has been your crutch at home, but who the hell knows what you’ve been doing on your own time?”

Jon could punch this guy. He really could and would in fact if he wasn’t standing in the middle of a police station hoping to gain the locals’ respect so he can join their team. He eases back since honestly there is no other option and tries for a flippant response. “Sure. Life’s been hell. Not just for me, though. You too.”

“I won’t disagree. Jim’s attack put us through the ringer. Jim himself did.”

Jon is amused to remember that despite also recalling how he didn’t feel amused at all when he first found out about it. “Kirk has a way of causing trouble without trying. Must be his gift to the world.”

Leonard gentles his tone. “You’ve been riding yourself hard to close his case. It doesn’t help that Jim is convinced you have an inside informant.”

He closes his eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know. You don’t have to go work every day wondering which of the people you’re responsible for is a rat. Is it the friend you’ve had for decades or the ones you trained over the years to be solid, accountable deputies? Sometimes I think if it has to be true, the culprit should be the new guy. I’m less attached to the new guy, right?” His voice cracks on a laugh. “But even thinking that… can you imagine how awful I feel?”

Jon opens his eyes, realizing too late that he has blabbed his feelings out loud. He peeks from the corners of his eyes at McCoy, surprised to find Leonard’s sympathetic gaze completely lacking in judgment. “Damn,” he mutters, “you’re good.”

McCoy pushes away from the wall with a small smile. “Better than good, actually. Don’t tell Jim. He hasn’t figured it out yet.”

“I pity him now.”

Leonard starts to shake his head but stops once he is looking past Archer’s shoulder. “They must be finished.”

Jon turns around.

Jim comes straight to McCoy’s side, a pinched look to his face that makes Jon wonder just what went on in that conversation with the officer.

Speaking of, Jim’s shadow is the Lieutenant himself. He stretches his hand out as Jim hustles Leonard aside for some private conversation. “Alexander Marcus,” he introduces himself.

“Jonathan Archer,” Jon responds, completing the handshake. “Your name sounds familiar.”

“I’ve been here a while,” Marcus replies evenly. “Your name is familiar. Famous, in fact, considering the press coverage of that terrorist attack you thwarted not too long ago. Saved a lot of lives.”

Jon smiles slightly. “That wasn’t me. It was Detective Pike who deserved the credit but he’s not a gloryhog like I am. I couldn’t convince him to do a single interview.”

Marcus’s gaze sharpens. “Do you know the detective well?”

That is when Jon remembers just who this man is. He says, “Well enough. We went to the state academy around the same time. Wait a minute, it’s coming back to me… You’re Pike’s former supervisor.”

The older man relaxes somewhat. “Mentor, if you will. He has been on his own for many years now.”

“Of course,” Jon agrees amiably. “I heard he reports directly to the Captain. Strange though,” he cannot help but remark, “that a Detective can be par with a Lieutenant.”

“As you said, no man deserves the glory better than our Christopher.” Marcus steps back, a tacit dismissal of their conversation. “Nice to meet you, Sheriff, though I wish it could have been under better circumstances. Now if you will excuse me, I need to hand this report over to the Captain ASAP and then wrangle up the detectives I do oversee. Every available resource is working hard to bring Pike back to us in one piece.”

Jon nods and watches Marcus leave before focusing on his next objective: finding out where Jim and Leonard went. He locates them after asking some passers-by for two guys who look like they belong in People Magazine’s Worst Dressed On the Planet edition. One neatly uniformed officer points him in the direction of the break room.

Jim doesn’t cease his pacing back and forth, nor does Leonard pause in watching his boyfriend pace, upon Jon’s arrival to the otherwise empty area.

“What did I miss?” he asks, a feeling of foreboding returning to him like an old friend.

“Jim’s got this crazy idea.”

“It’s not crazy!” Jim snaps at his boyfriend. “It makes perfect sense.”

“What does?” Jon presses.

Leonard’s forehead crinkles up. “Jim, tell him.”

Jonathan literally has to step into Kirk’s path to gain his attention. “Hey,” he says, hands out in a conciliatory gesture, “talk to me, kiddo.”

Jim moves into Jon’s personal space. “Like you talked to me about the possibility that my dad could have been kidnapped?”

“I didn’t know that for certain, Jim.”

“How can I trust you?”

Jon’s frustration is on the rise. “Funny how I hear that question every single day from you. Maybe you should make up your mind, Kirk. Trust me or don’t. But, FYI? I’m done bending over backwards to prove myself to you.”

A muscle in Jim’s jaw ticks. Jon thinks it is very likely his own jaw is twitching; he’s grinding his teeth very hard.

Leonard puts a hand on Jim’s chest and pushes him a step back to give them breathing room. With a sigh the man explains, “Jim thinks Nero could be the kidnapper.”

Jon takes a moment to think on that before offering a short nod. “All right.”

Jim’s gaze narrows. Even Leonard looks at Jon askance.

“Typical questions to ask family of a kidnapping victim: who has a grudge against them, and who do they have a grudge against? Considering recent events, Nero falls in both categories.” He studies Jim. “Did Marcus ask you anything else? Did he say anything to upset you?”

“We skipped the stupid questions, and no he didn’t upset me.” Jim’s tongue darts out, running along his bottom lip. “Alex told me he was the last one to see Dad yesterday. They had lunch.” He glances at McCoy. “They talked about… my accident. He said Dad admitted to some hard feelings towards the guys that, you know…”

“Beat you within an inch of your life?” Leonard finishes grimly. “Yeah I know about those hard feelings. But that doesn’t add up to Nero going after your father, Jim.”

Jon cuts in, “Not unless you consider why the gang retaliated against Kirk in the first place.”

“I don’t know.”

“Bones, it makes sense. If Nero wants to get to me, then he has to get to you or Dad first.”

“You said that before when you thought I would be his next victim, but now it’s your dad’s turn? I don’t know, Jim. Is this an honest-to-god threat, or is this your fear of losing those you feel closest to talking? Creating monsters where there are none, maybe.”

Kirk presses his mouth into a thin line. “It’s real.”

Jon senses an old argument rearing its head between the two men, and he honestly don’t have the inclination to listen to it. “Kirk,” he calls as he walks toward the break room door, “I hear you about Nero. He’s on my radar, I promise. But don’t fight with your boyfriend. It’s either united we stand or united we fall, gentlemen.”

Away from the break room, he spies the door to the Briefing Room finally opening after an hour-long session and hurries in that direction to catch Liu for an update. As Jon goes, he repeats to himself silently, It isn’t Nero. God don’t let it be Nero.

Because if it is Nero, Pike will never return to them alive.

~~~

Chris can tell nearly a full day has passed since his capture because his desire for sustenance has reached a gut-gnawing level. In this dark hovel, there’s nothing to occupy him except his thoughts and his body. The pain in his shoulder is a tinge now but other discomforts have taken its place. More difficult to ignore is his imagination, for sitting here in the darkness is fuel to a blazing mental fire. His mind is doing all the kidnappers’ hard work for them, weakening his own psyche hour by hour.

That, he tells himself, is the reason someone will come for him soon. Doubts that he might never be released have begun to seep in.

Food—or just water—would be nice too. And a bucket to piss in.

Damn but why couldn’t his kidnappers have had the courtesy to leave a bucket?

Chris is entertaining himself by imagining what kind of little creature just ran across his foot when he finally hears the tell-tale sounds of life outside the darkness. A moment’s desperation sends him scuttling for the wall with the door. Pride chokes back his voice.

Once he is certain the person in the distance is actually real and headed in his direction, he inches back to his spot on the far wall and takes a wide-legged stance. No need to look the part of a coward just because he currently feels like one.

The first inkling of light is welcoming. It streaks across the window of the door, followed by murmurs. A flashlight. Someone whispers in a foreign language. Another voice, louder, complains in the same language. Like Spanish but not quite. Portuguese, maybe.

He hears the sound of someone throwing a generator switch—and suddenly, the ceiling above lights up with blinding clarity. Chris curses, shielding his eyes, trying to adapt to the change in visibility to get a first, good look at his captors.

They have the heavy metal door open before he can manage to see properly. There are more than a handful, more than he could possibly overtake by himself. The men, ranging from teenagers to men older than Chris, are dressed in typical street attire: baggy pants, thin cotton shirts that don’t hide their weapons or the tattoos crisscrossing their torsos. Some have on gaudy chains; others, brass knuckles worn like jewelry.

Not one of them looks sympathetic to Pike’s situation. No one touches him or even speaks to him.

Except one.

The man isn’t tall or swarthy but his presence is nonetheless felt the moment he steps into the crowded room. The attention of the men focus on this single person. They move aside as he approaches Pike, stride casual.

A minute of silence continues until that unreadable expression cracks.

“Welcome,” the man says to Pike as if greeting a guest. To an associate on his right, he snaps his fingers. “A chair.”

The fellow disappears momentarily and returns with a plain wooden chair. The one who ordered it takes a seat, leaning forward to brace his arm against one of his thighs, watching Pike as if he is a particularly interesting specimen to be studied up-close.

“Ah,” he finally says just as the other men shift on their feet, “another chair.”

The second chair is placed between Pike and his observer.

“Sit,” Pike is ordered.

When Chris doesn’t comply, he directs the next order to the men around Chris. “Help our guest find his seat.” This translates into a breath-stealing punch into Pike’s gut before Pike is dumped into the empty chair.

Chris manages to catch his breath without too much of a show and slowly unfurls his spine. Once again, pride prompts him to adopt a bravado he doesn’t quite feel. Folding his arms across his chest, he returns the stare of this man who is undoubtedly in charge of the other thugs.

“I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” he says in an off-handed way. “I’m not the kind of guy you want to kidnap.”

The man, the leader, throws back his head with an abrasive laugh.

Anger overrides caution. Chris snaps, “You think committing a crime is funny?” He knows he is breaking the most important rule for a person in his position (which is don’t antagonize your captors) but he suddenly is unable to care. “It isn’t. You better have a fucking excellent explanation for this.”

“You,” the man, sobering enough to look at him again, says, “are as exactly as I have heard, Detective.”

For a moment, Chris can only stare back.

“Surprised? Of course I know your identity. Pasma. Policia. Cop.” His captor offers him a humorless smile. “I see the knowledge does not go both ways. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kor.”

He states his name as a matter of fact but there is an undertone of pride too.

“Kor,” Chris repeats, cutting his eyes to the brutish-looking men on either side of him. It has a familiar ring but he can’t recall why. Still, the smarter move is to play dumb. “You’re right. I don’t know you. What business do you have with me?”

Kor nods as though Chris has said something of which he approves. “Yes, we have business. Although—” Here he looks like he might laugh again, rubbing at his chin. “—I admit it was greatly entertaining to watch you react so foolishly when you thought you might uncover a perpetrator.” His dark eyes glint in the overhead lighting.

Kor had been watching him since the alleyway? Somehow that isn’t surprising. Chris wraps himself in an angry calm, using it to clear his head and keep himself thinking. “The blue markings,” he surmises, once again flicking a glance at a thug near enough to breathe on him. There is a hint of blue peeking out from beneath the thug’s shirt collar. “Who do you work for, Kor?”

Without warning the other man towers over Pike, his expression thunderous with rage. “I am Kor!” he roars, fisting both hands in the front of Chris’s shirt and giving Chris a none-too-gentle shake. “I work for no one!“

What a strong reaction to a simple question. Chris lifts an eyebrow after he is dumped back into his chair and Kor backs away. “My mistake.”

Kor visibly collects himself, then. “A mistake I will forgive only once.” He makes a partial turn to pace away and back like a general thinking on his next move. “You’re too clever, Detective. I should have anticipated this.” He stops pacing to round on Chris once more but his tone is less agitated and again hinting at approval. “I am able to appreciate a worthy opponent. In fact, I demand it.”

“You’re confusing me,” Chris admits. “Are you or are you not here to threaten my life?”

Kor waves a hand in dismissal of the notion. “If I wanted you dead, your corpse would be rotting on the steps of your precinct. I have greater plans for you than death, Christopher Pike.”

“What plans?”

Kor looks suddenly terrifying, and his words are no less so: “Revenge. Revenge for our Brother Koloth!”

The men around Pike burst into noise, rallying from their silence to declare, “For Koloth!”

Chris pales. Koloth is a name he knows all too well, that any cop in this city is trained to know, for Koloth has been the leader of the most organized crime unit in the region for nearly five years. His gang runners spread like weeds, and the battle with them is constant and never-ending. The leader himself has been untouchable, never once caught unawares in a raiding party.

A cry of revenge for Koloth could only mean one thing.

“Koloth is…”

“Dead,” supplies Kor. “Killed by unworthy hands.” His face twists in disgust as he names the killer. “By a dog named Ayel.”

Chris unfolds his arms. Ayel is Nero’s right-hand man. If Nero managed to kill Koloth… Damn, just what this city doesn’t need, a violent battle between two major rival gangs.

He cuts into the snarling of what must be the remainder of Koloth’s gang to say, “I don’t understand, Kor. If you’re at war with Nero, why am I here?”

Kor takes a seat again, looking very pleased that Pike had asked for an explanation. “You are my peace offering, Detective. Nero wants you badly. I will give you to him.” He bares his teeth in a pretense of a grin. “Then I will slit his throat and take his territory for my own!”

More howls and cheers and stomping of feet.

Chris is numb to their enthusiasm for bloodshed.

Nero, he thinks. He is finally going to meet Nero in person.

Watching him, Kor remarks with a shrewdness Chris has seen all too often in men of Koloth’s caliber, “The look on your face, Detective… I know it well. You seek revenge of your own.”

Chris presses his mouth shut, unwilling to agree but not able to deny the truth either.

Kor smiles faintly. “Make a deal with me,” he offers, extending one hand, “and we shall experience glorious victory together!”

Liu’s words echo in Pike’s head: Law and order is our business, no exceptions.

He swallows hard and asks, “What sort of deal?”

Kor leans in, eager to explain the rest to him.

Sidenote: Kor was supposed to be a new character in the Riverside ‘verse, the leader of the Road Warriors (a motorcycle gang that has a bit of rivalry with Kirk), but sadly I never got around to writing that story. It seemed like a good idea to give him a spotlight here instead.

Next Part

Related Posts:

• Holiday Revenge (13/13) – from January 20, 2017
• Holiday Revenge (12/13) – from January 19, 2017
• Holiday Revenge (11/13) – from January 8, 2017
• Holiday Revenge (10/12) – from January 5, 2017
• Holiday Revenge (9/12) – from January 3, 2017

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