"Friendship is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words." *George Eliot (1819-1880)*

Jim Ellison rolled over in bed, clamping his pillow around his ears. It was no use, he could still hear the phone.

Let Sandburg pick it up.

The phone continued to ring.

With a sigh of surrender, the Jim tossed back his light cover and trotted downstairs clad only in his boxers. The loft's sole source of light was the street lights below as they filtered through the large glass windows.

"Ellison."

"Hey, Jim!"

Looking toward the downstairs bedroom, he realized the room was empty.

"Sandburg, it's two AM. Where are you? No, scratch that, why are you calling me at two AM?"

"I was just sitting here in my office and it suddenly occurred to me; why should I be the only one up at two in the morning grading finals? So I thought I'd call and wake you."

Ah, delay tactic number twelve, dry humor.

"Let me guess, that bucket of bolts you call a vehicle is not running."

"Excuse me, she is not a bucket of bolts. But, yeah." He heard the squeaking of an office chair being rocked in the background. "Could you pick me up? The last bus was at one-fifteen, otherwise..."

"On my way," Ellison interrupted. "Just stay put. I'll honk when I get out front."

"Thanks, man."

Thirty minutes later, Jim was dressed, parked in the university parking lot and waiting for his roommate to emerge. It was a peaceful night. The temperature had been moderate for the past few days. It looked as though summer was beginning to get a foot in the door.

A slight figure approached the Ford truck. Recognizing the bounce in the walk, Jim hit the button to unlock the doors.

"Thanks, Jim. Sorry I got you out of bed!" Blair tossed his backpack into the bench behind him and pulled the shoulder strap across to lock it into place.

"Why the late hours? I thought you said you'd finish by lunch tomorrow."

Grinning like the orange cat in Alice's adventure, the grad student beat a drum roll on the dash. "I got a rhythm thing going and I finished! I'm all done with this semester, man! YaHOO! Let the relaxation begin!"

Ellison caught the infectious mood coming off his companion. "All right then. Now you can work on getting our gear in order while I tie up some loose ends at work. We can leave tomorrow afternoon, instead of waiting till Saturday."

"Only after I sleep in, dude! I am on official vacation!"

Ellison closed the file on his desk, one down and less than five to go. Glancing at his watch, he decided to treat himself to a cup of coffee before he tackled the next case. En route to the break room he detoured, hearing the familiar sputtering sound of Simon Bank's coffee maker as it finished brewing a fresh pot.

"Enter."

Simon had the phone receiver to his ear. Holding up his blue coffee cup with the `Rainier University' logo, Jim pointed politely at the coffee.

Simon gave the nod and Jim secured his goal. He lingered when his boss held up his hand to stop him.

"No... I want to.... Well, because that's what friends do for each other. Yeah...then shut up and accept it...." He grinned at Jim and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.

Ellison took an experimental sip and waited.

"Good. See ya then." Simon replaced the handset with a grimace. "Jim, just the person I needed to talk to."

"What's up, Simon? Thanks for the coffee, by the way."

Banks leaned back in his chair, shrugging off the gratitude. "I'm drinking too much of the damn stuff anyway. About this week, I'm going to have to cancel on you two."

"What? Why?"

"That was a buddy of mine. Best man in my wedding, actually. He's in the hospital and needs my help." Simon stood slowly, walking over to a bookshelf. "He owns a small business. If some repairs aren't made within the next ten days, his business is a bust and he's out a lot of money. I can't let that happen." He opened a scrapbook and set it down for Jim to look at.

Jim looked at the picture his boss pointed to. A younger version of Simon stood proudly next to a shorter man about the same age. They were both dressed in jeans and sweatshirts.

"We worked that summer on fishing boats to earn money for next year's college expenses. Hardest damn work I ever did. But the money was great. Clark found the jobs for us."

"Why is he in the hospital?"

"He fell. Busted his ribs and his wrist. He's been dreaming of this business since we worked that summer. He really fell in love with life on the water." Banks snapped the book shut and replaced it. "So I'll catch you guys on the next fishing trip. Hopefully it won't be too late to correct any bad habits you're apt to teach the kid by then."

Blair had the gear packed and by the front door when Jim walked in. They had camping reservations next to a pristine fly fishing lake. It promised to be a week that neither man would forget for a long time. As they carried the equipment down to load into the Ford, Jim filled Blair in on the story behind Simon's cancellation.

"Aww, that sucks!" Blair exclaimed, setting the sleeping bag down next to the duffel bag Jim had loaned him for the week.

"He said he'd make our next trip."

Finished with the loading, Jim locked up the loft and joined Blair at the truck. Blair stood staring thoughtfully as his tennis shoes, his hand resting on the passenger door handle.

"Ready?" Jim asked, his own door open.

"Umm. I was thinking, maybe I should stay behind, Jim."

Jim studied his roommate skeptically. "What? We have a deposit."

Blair held up both hands. "I know man. I'll still pay my part. But I've got some things that I need to do. I mean, what was I thinking! I've got tons of work to catch up on." He reached into the truck and started to unload his bags. "You go on, man. You deserve this trip!"

Ellison shook his head in disbelief. "You're so full of it, Chief. Why don't you just give me the truth?"

"What? I'm telling the truth, man. I just have some things that need to get done."

"And these things are more important than taking a vacation you've been talking about for weeks?" Jim leaned his forearms on the hood, giving his friend a doubtful look. "You promised we'd work on my control," Jim pushed.

"Right, I know." Blair risked a look at his friend. "We'll still work on them, man. When you get back!"

"Riiight. Do these things that you just remembered have anything to do with Simon?"

Blair gave his friend a sheepish look.

"Yeah. I thought so. Listen, Bob Villa. You're talking a week of sanding, varnishing and repairs. It's not going to be very fun."

"But if there's more of us working together, we'll get finished in time to still get the last weekend of fishing in."

Jim snorted. "When did I get roped into this plan?"

"Hey, he's your friend!" Blair quipped, his face broke into a gigantic smile. "And your boss, think of the extra credit, man!"

"That only works with professors." Jim reached for his cell phone while successfully hiding a grin. "I'll call the resort and change our reservations."

Later that afternoon, the three Cascade residents walked down a shaky pier. The marina was a two-hour drive from Cascade. A small one-stop market operated the twelve-slip facility.

"Are we still in Washington State?" Blair asked. The wind was whipping his long hair into a frenzied dance about his face. Loaded down with sleeping and duffel bags, he was helpless to tame it.

"Last time I checked, we were," Jim replied.

The small finger pier branched off the larger one, running alongside a large sixty-foot wooden boat. Obvious work was being performed on board, evidence of sanding and painting could be seen on the deck and cabin walls.

"This must be it," Simon declared. Locating a marine grade padlock and dialing in a four-digit number, he rolled back the door.

"Watch your step, Chief."

"Wow, would you look at this boat! What a beauty!"

The sliding side door rolled back easily on well-oiled tracks. Inside the cabin, tarps, paint cans and brushes were lined neatly against the wall. It was a roomy cabin; rows of windows allowed for a full view of the other boats tied up in their slips.

"Totally cool! This must be real old!" Sandburg tossed his burden onto a nearby wooden bench that lined the walls and started exploring.

Jim stood admiring the cabin. "You say your friend is going to live on board?"

Simon grinned. "That's his plan. He has a small home on one of the islands, but wants to be able to stay on board when he's in operation. The upper deck has been converted to accommodate one person.

"Hey, guys! Check this out!"

The two older men exchanged knowing looks. "Did you bring his leash?" Simon asked softly.

"It's with his water bowl and Frisbee."

They joined the explorer on the upper deck, which connected to the lower deck by a single flight of wooden stairs. The upper room was furnished with a single bunk, a bench and small galley. The teak and oak wood had been sanded and finished. A small door was propped open to reveal a pilothouse. Another door opened into a small bathroom or `head' with a marine toilet.

Blair was exploring the pilothouse. "Oh wow! This is great!" He disappeared through an exterior door that led to a wrap-around upper deck. The two men could see him through the windows as he circumvented the cabin.

"He's right, Simon. This is amazing."

Simon brought his large hand down on Ellison's shoulder. "I can't tell you how much it means to me to have you two offer your vacation time to help save Clark's business."

"Hey, we're just returning the favor. You saved our butts in Dry Falls during spring break."

"Okay then. Let's round up Sandburg and finish unloading. I want to drive into Sedro Woolly to check on Clark."

It was growing dark by the time they returned to the boat. Simon's friend was still in the hospital. One of his ribs had damaged a lung and the doctors were cautious about letting him go. Only the thought that Simon and company had arrived to help had kept the man in the hospital bed.

By agreement, Simon got the upper cabin to sleep in. The two roommates assembled camping cots down in the main cabin and rolled out their sleeping bags. The main cabin was set up to accommodate passengers, with benches along the walls and a row down the center. The sleeping cots were placed close together on one side. Supplies were stacked on the other. Ellison just finished setting up his bed when the aroma of stew wafted down the stairs.

"Lets go up, Simon has dinner ready."

Sitting around the small cabin, they enjoyed a late meal of stew and fresh bread from a bakery in Sedro Woolly. The lights from the coastline made an attractive backdrop. Clark had installed blinds in the upper cabin for privacy.

"What's the history on this boat, Simon?" Blair asked as he deposited a large piece of meat from his bowl into his roommate's.

There are definite perks to living with a semi-vegetarian, Jim thought.

"She was built in 1917 and was used for different jobs; transporting travelers, lumber, livestock, and supplies. This is one of the last diesel engine boats left from the mosquito fleet." Simon leaned back on his temporary bunk.

"I remember reading about that in school," Jim commented.

"Mosquito Fleet? What's that?"

Simon set his empty bowl down and settled back to tell the story. "Okay, let's see if I have this right. From the late eighteen hundreds to, let me think, nineteen thirty's, sound right, Jim?"

"About that."

"Oh, ancient history, uh Simon?"

"Watch it, Sandburg. As temporary Captain of this vessel, I can have you keel hauled!"

"Sorry, go ahead."

"Humph! Anyway. The only way folks could get around on the islands and coastal towns easily in those days was by boat. Hundreds of boat owners started their own businesses transporting what ever they could be paid for."

"Makes sense, a typical situation of the cultural needs being met by ingenuity." Blair stuck his tongue out at Jim who was rolling his eyes. "Well, it is! But why the weird name?"

"They say that the constant sound of motors and the vessels flitting around the different coastal towns reminded people of a swarm of mosquitoes," Ellison replied.

"Yeah, they'd get real competitive too. Bumping the others out of the way to compete for fares..." Simon said with a yawn. "Now, as captain of this fine ship, I'm ordering all hands to bed. We start work at the crack of dawn!"

"Okay, g'nite Simon."

Banks threw up his hands in mock outrage. "That's Captain Banks to you! Tomorrow's history lesson will be on how to keel haul disrespectful crew members!"

Settling down into their beds, Ellison let his senses drift. The territory was new. It was always hard for him to sleep for the first night in a new place.

"Jim?" Blair whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Sound carries further over water, right?"

Jim shifted nervously in his bed. Why did this sound like a prelude to a test? "That's what they say."

"So, how far can you hear?' Blair yawned, then continued. "I'm just curious. I'm gonna save the official tests for later this week."

"Wonderful."

"Come on, big guy. Give me a few things."

"Fine." He concentrated on his dial. "The TV is running in the store, sounds like an old episode of `Gunsmoke', there's a bell buoy, and it sounds like a Russian freighter is heading into Everett."

"Wow! How do you know it's Russian?"

"A couple of guys on board are arguing over something."

Blair tossed back the cover of his sleeping bag and began to climb out of this cot. Jim reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Where are you going, Pavlov?"

"Funny, Jim. I need to find a map or something! I need to figure out how far you're hearing these things."

"No." Jim rose up and tugged the researcher back down onto his bed. "And the term is `chart' not map. We'll run some tests later, okay? Go to sleep." He flipped the sleeping bag cover up, covering Blair's face.

"Jim! Come on!" The muffled reply begged.

"Sleep!"

"Fine. But I get to run those tests, right?"

Eventually, even breathing came from the other cot. Jim tried to relax each muscle in his body one at a time, starting with his toes and working up to his neck. He was just beginning to feel the pull towards sleep when his ears picked up a closer sound.

"Bell buoys...gunsmoke...tests...Everett"

The words had a hard, almost crazy ring to them. Jim sat up in alarm. Shit, someone was out there! Listening to them!

Silent as a shadow, he slipped out of his bag and eased towards the windows. The night was still. No forms lurked nearby. He pondered which direction the words came from and settled on a 32-foot sailboat at the end of the pier. The small windows were dark, but the sentinel was certain the speaker was dwelling inside.

How could he hear them? Blair's voice had been at a whisper so not to disturb their friend sleeping above. His own responses had been loud enough for only Blair to hear.

The man seemed to be silent now, sounds of movement dying down. Checking the sliding door carefully, Jim was confident they were safe. With nothing else to do at the moment, he returned to his cot and tried to sleep.

Riiight.

Early that morning, Blair woke to a gentle rocking. He took a quick mental inventory; narrow bed, way too much light in the room, smell of salt water, and what's with this rocking?

Simon Banks descended the wooden stairs, arriving in the main cabin looking bright and ready to start the day. He set a carafe of black coffee, a short stack of Styrofoam cups and a bag of assorted pastries on a nearby bench.

"You still in bed? Where's Jim?"

"Yes. Don't know." He glanced to the cot near his own as he sat up in bed and pulled his hair back into a ponytail. Jim's sleeping bag was neatly rolled up and secured by ties.<,> the pillow placed along side. Hastily scrambling out of his bag and into yesterday's jeans, Blair helped himself to a blueberry muffin and accepted the cup of coffee from Simon.

Ellison arrived with a towel under on arm and a small GI issue shaving kit in hand. "Great, you guys are up." He dropped his gear on the cot and poured his own coffee.

"I figured we discuss the work that needed to be done over breakfast," Simon explained, reaching into the white bag for another glazed donut.

"Did you guys notice that sailboat at the end of the pier last night?" Jim asked, rooting around in the bag.

Twisting his neck around, Blair peered through the windows. He had noticed the boat yesterday, but now the slip was empty.

"Last night, when Blair and I were talking....about stuff," he paused, finding his calorie intake of choice, "and I heard the guy on that boat repeating parts of our conversation."

Blair's spine snapped straight as his mind tried to process Jim's statement. "What! We were just whispering, no way he heard that from his boat! Is he spying on us?"

Simon poured more coffee into his half empty cup. "You think he was using electrical devices, like a bug or directional mike?"

"No, he sounded ...different...kinda funny. Muttering to himself."

"Funny...Ha Ha. Or ..." Blair drew imaginary circles near his ear with his finger.

Jim mimicked the gesture. "Kinda nutty, I guess." He shrugged. "It seems silly now, in the daylight. But last night...the whole thing made the hair on the back of my neck stand up."

"Weird."

"Well, he's gone now. Maybe it was just an overnight transient moorage," Simon tendered.

Finishing their meal, the men moved all the sleeping equipment upstairs; making room for the work they planned on accomplishing that day.

The plan was simple. Jim checked the quality of the sanding that had already been done on the wooden benches and rails, declaring which areas needed more work and which were fine. They had borrowed equipment for the job ahead. Breaking out the palm sanders, they began working on the larger flat areas, leaving the smaller or curved pieces of wood for hand sanding.

"Don't use that cord, Sandburg."

Blair looked at his roommate. "Why not?"

"It doesn't have a GFI on it. With your track record, I'm not letting you hold anything electrical near water without one." He held out a new cord that still had a label on it. "Here."

As Blair worked, he studied the other boats in the marina. Most of the boats were small pleasure crafts, probably visited on weekends by nearby owners. Movement out on the water caught his eye. The sailboat from last night was returning. He watched as it neared. A single occupant sat behind a large wheel, steering the boat into its slip under power of an inboard motor.

Ellison joined him as they watched a man in his early thirties expertly dock and secure the boat single-handedly. Jim walked over to a small radio that Simon had brought with them and flipped the power switch. A sports talk show host was talking to a caller about the likelihood of a change in the owners of the Jags. Jim turned the volume up and went back to work.

Blair resumed his sanding, but his eyes often drifted to the sailboat.

Work was progressing nicely.

When the fumes from the drying varnish became too strong for the sentinel to handle, they moved the cots to the upper deck, sleeping under the stars. Jim found another blanket for Sandburg to sleep under. Thankfully the weather remained clear, although the temperature did drop at night.

The occupant of the sailboat kept to himself, motoring away some times from the slip and returning at odd hours. Any trips from the boat by the man occurred, if at all, when the three took drives into nearby towns for supplies or meals.

After three days of work, Simon was like a proud father when Clark was able to visit. After releasing him from the hospital, the doctor prohibited any manual work for his patient, but he was allowed to watch for a few hours.

"Damn, Simon. I can't believe it! You guys are doing a great job!" Clark sat with a goofy smile of joy on his face. Most of the benches and interior where finished. Clark pumped both Jim and Blair's hands in enthusiastic appreciation. The shorter man's face was liberally covered with smile wrinkles that accentuated his deeply tanned face. Jim judged him to have some Samoan ancestry, by the looks of his stocky body, dark hair and round face. He visited until four PM. Only after Clark began to show signs of fatigue and pain, did Simon insist he drive the man back to Sedro Woolly where he was staying with an elderly aunt.

"Well, he sure likes the work so far," Sandburg noted, sitting on the rail swinging his bare feet. He was dressed in cutoffs and a stain splattered T-shirt. His hair had been pulled back.

"We're on track for his deadline. By the time his ribs heal enough to move easier, he can start his runs." Jim finished wrapping up the long extension cords. He gave one last look at the deck, finding no left out supplies. The main cabin had aired out enough for the two men to move their cots back inside.

"Okay, lets check.."

"Whoa!"

SPLASH!

Jim ran to the now empty rail and looked over the side. Blair reappeared to the surface, apparently unhurt and spitting out a mouth full of salt water.

"Hey, grace! You could have used the showers up at the store!" Jim called down with a laugh.

"Funny, man!"

"Swim around, I'll pull you up," Jim instructed.

"Nah, Jim. I saw a ladder at the far end, I'll swim over." Blair rolled onto his side and began to swim around the other boats towards the end.

Before Jim could get off the large boat, he heard a cry of pain. Running onto the main pier, he searched the water for his friend. Blair must be behind one of the moored boats, out of sight.

"Sandburg!"

"Shit...Jim!"

Following the sound, he jumped onto an empty fishing boat with a high fly bridge. From the far aft position he could see Blair thrashing violently in the water about two boats over.

"Blair!"

His roommate was staying on top of the water okay, but he appeared to be striking out at something in the water next to him. Jim recognized the orange colored jellyfish just as long arms reached down and Sandburg was hauled up and onto a finger pier. Ellison scrambled off the boat and sprinted around to join Sandburg and his rescuer.

Reaching his friend's side, Jim knelt down to determine the injuries. Blair lay on his side, curled into a fetal ball as he moaned in pain.

"Where did it get you, Sandburg?" Jim demanded.

"Leg..." Blair answered breathlessly. The side of his left leg was decorated by a strip of red irritated looking skin in a long line from just above his foot up to the hem of his cut off jeans.

Jim visually checked the rash, several of the tentacles were still the skin. Blair was shaking, teeth grinding, and breathing deeply through his nose.

"Vinegar."

For the first time, Jim glanced at the man who had spoken and had pulled Blair out of the water. It was the owner of the sailboat.

"What?"

"Vinegar for jellyfish." The man's words were clipped as if each one took a forceful push to come out.

Ellison nodded in agreement. It had been many years since he had studied this sort of medical treatment, but that was the correct answer. "Right, do you have any?"

The man nodded in a jerky motion, promptly standing and striding purposefully towards his boat. Jim gave his attention back to Blair.

"Jim! Man, this HURTS!"

"I know, kid." He took a wet arm and draped it across his neck. "Come on, let's get you back to the boat." Standing slowly, he drew the injured man up and supported his weight back toward their temporary home.

Laying Blair down on a cot, Jim took a towel and spread it under the leg. Long red welts were forming under the tentacles. Blair beat the edge of the cot with a closed fist.

"Hang on." Jim pulled his shaving kit free from under his cot and pulled out a can of shaving cream and a his razor. He ran to a first aid kit that was stored under a bench, waiting to be mounted somewhere when all the woodwork was finished. He located a set of tweezers.

Blair was moaning, his neck and shoulder muscle tight with strain. "Jiiimmm...'

"Okay, okay. Hold still, Blair." Dropping down to his knees, he used the tweezers to begin to remove the jellyfish parts that had broken off. A shadow fell across the cabin floor as the sailboat owner arrived with the vinegar.

Jim worked quickly, using his superior vision to locate each tentacle, finding a few still clinging to Blair's cutoffs. He could see hundreds of small stinging apparatus basically consisting of a poison sac with an attached sharp hollow tube armed with barbs. Taking the vinegar, he slowly poured it in a path following the welts.

"Almost there, Chief," Jim ordered as he picked up the shaving cream and shook the can. He spread the thick cream over the stingers and carefully shaved the site. Finishing with another application of vinegar, Jim sat back on his heels.

"Good....good...good." The sailboat owner was lightly rubbing Sandburg's upper arm. The gesture seemed totally out of place to Jim, and for some unexplainable reason, he wanted the man to stop. Blair seemed oblivious, however, as he struggled with his pain.

"There is some cortisone cream in that first aid kit over there." Jim pointed to the open white box he had taken the tweezers from. "Could you get it please?"

With the same awkward motions, the man went and retrieved the small tube, handing it over as requested.

"Thank you for pulling Blair out." Jim stood and extended his hand out to formally shake. "We'll replace the vinegar as soon as we can. I'll bring it to your boat tonight."

The man stared blankly at the hand, then with one last look at Sandburg he turned and exited wordlessly through the open door. Jim allowed himself a second to ponder the strange man's behavior. Dismissing it for now, he knelt back down and lightly smoothed the cream onto the welts.

"How you doing, Sandburg?"

"Better man. Thanks for pulling me out... I never even saw it."

"I didn't get you out, Chief. The guy from the sailboat did."

"Need to thank him." Blair was still stiff, eyes squeezed shut, but Jim could see he was starting to relax.

"Later. How you feeling? How's your stomach? Feel any nausea?"

"No. Leg still hurts, but nothing like before." He opened his eyes and looked at his friend. "Man, I don't have to go to the hospital, do I?"

`No. You managed to dodge a trip this time." Jim wiped the cream onto the towel, adding to the vinegar smell. "If you get any nausea, joint pain, headache or problems breathing you let me know ASAP, got it?"

"Yeah." Blair closed his eyes again. "You'll be the first to know. Hey, who's bed am I soaking?"

Jim grinned. "You'd have to do worst than kiss a Jellyfish for me to allow my bag to get wet."

"Damn!"

Simon arrived back from driving Clark to his aunt's home to find Sandburg sleeping at six PM in the evening. Jim was reading a paperback while stretched out on his own cot.

"Hey, Simon," Jim greeted softly as the captain walked through the open door.

"Jim?" Simon automatically whispered as he looked at Blair. The kid was lying on his back, wearing boxer shorts and a white T-shirt that looked two sizes too large. He immediately spied the red welts on the shaved part of his leg. "What did I miss?"

Closing the book, Jim stood and motioned with his hand for Simon to precede him up the stairs. Jim started a fresh pot of coffee as he gave a narrative of the events. He would pause every few minutes and tilt his head as if listening. Checking on Sandburg, no doubt.

"I don't know, Jim. Maybe we should take him in to be checked out," Simon stated, not at all happy with the thought of Blair getting hurt while working to fix his friend's boat.

"Relax, Simon. I gave him some Tylenol and an antihistamine. We just need watch for signs of a reaction. He hasn't had any yet, so I doubt we're going to have any problems." Jim leaned back against the bench with a sigh. "The guy from the sailboat was sure a weird one."

"How so?"

Jim's eyes drifted to the ceiling of the small cabin before answering. "Just a feeling, really. He has an obvious ...disability. Walks and speaks with effort." Jim paused. "Maybe I'm just obsessing, but I get a bad feeling about him."

Simon nodded silently, sipping his coffee thoughtfully. "Let's just watch him for now. If we need to, we can find out who he is from the marina office and have Taggert run him for us."

Blair slept for the rest of the night, missing dinner. Jim applied another treatment of cream lightly to his injured leg, never waking the patient. Moving the cots side by side so they touched, Jim unzipped his sleeping bag and covered Blair and his own cot. Sandburg remained motionless as the two cops said goodnight. Simon waited until Jim was settled down under the shared cover before double checking the locked door and switching off the light as he headed up the stairs.

The next morning, Blair woke complaining of some light pain. The welts were not as prevalent as the day before. Ellison declared him fit for light duty only. Blair was fine with that, as long as the plan called for breakfast, soon.

The two cops decided to treat themselves to a hearty breakfast at a nearby truck stop. Sandburg agreed with a dire warning that he'd better find something healthy on the menu.

As it turned out, Blair was happy to order oatmeal with fresh fruit. Both Simon and Jim had a large meat omelet that seemed to be favored by the locals.

"You two should just ask the waitress to give you a months worth of saturated fat through an I.V.!" Blair admonished as the plates piled high with food were delivered to their table.

Simon reached for the saltshaker. "Jim, I ever tell you how much fun it is to eat out with your roommate?"

Jim hid a grin. "Nope."

"There's a reason for that."

Stopping at a grocery store on the return trip. Jim bought the vinegar and first aid supplies to replace what he used yesterday. Blair headed for the health food isle with a slight limp. Simon perused the large display of magazines. A few minutes later, the three men were standing in the checkout line with their selections.

"Why don't you rest, Sandburg? I'll run it over and be right back."

"No. I want to thank the guy, Jim."

"I'll deliver the message. You should get off that leg."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Jim, I'm fine! Lighten up, man. I'm going with you."

Ellison gave his boss an unhappy look and led the way to the sailboat with the vinegar bottle in hand. They approached, calling out a greeting. They waited.

"You sure he's on board, man?"

"Yeah."

The wooden doors leading to the cabin below opened out and the owner stepped up to the back deck.

Blair smiled brightly at his rescuer from yesterday. "Hey, I just wanted to thank you for helping me out yesterday. I could not get away from that jellyfish fast enough."

The man nodded at Blair. He was dressed in soft looking cotton pants with a drawstring and a loose T-shirt. A few inches taller than Sandburg, he was built with a heavy muscular frame. His brown hair was long and straight, pulled back into a short but neat braid.

Jim held out the vinegar, but the sailboat owner didn't take his eyes off Blair, finally Ellison just set the bottle on the deck of the boat. "I appreciate your help treating his injuries."

Blair's smile never faltered as he withstood the man's scrutiny. "So, I'm Blair Sandburg. What's your name?"

"Robert."

Blair thrust his right hand out. "Nice to meet you, Robert. You live on this boat?"

Robert was quick to grasp his hand. He gave a jerk with his head. "Good."

Blair grimaced as his hand was squeezed. He glanced over at Jim when it became obvious Robert had no intention in releasing it anytime soon. Awkwardly, Blair gently tugged. "Hey man, I'm gonna need that hand again, okay?"

Ellison moved to break the contact, but Robert suddenly dropped Blair's hand and spun on his heel, disappearing back down below, the bottle of vinegar left behind.

Blair looked at his roommate with surprise. "How weird is that, man?" he whispered softly.

Jim jerked his chin back down the pier, gesturing with his hand for Blair to precede him. Blair limped back to their boat, holding his comments until they were back in the lower cabin and the cop had flipped the switch on the radio. Simon was removing masking tape from the windows.

Once the ball game was on, Blair gave a nervous laugh. "Okay, that was different." He sat on a dry bench, beautifully gleaming with new sanding and several coats of varnish. He stretched his injured leg out in front of him.

"What happened?"

"That guy, he like doesn't talk, much anyway. He had a real intense stare." Blair gave an exaggerated shudder with his shoulders. "Creepy."

Simon looked at Ellison who was standing by the windows with thoughtful frown. "Is it time to run the guy, Jim?"

"Whoa! Time out!" Blair held up both hands. "We shouldn't assume he's on the FBI's most wanted! He's probably just slow or something."

"I don't trust him," Jim announced gravely. "He totally ignores me, but seems very interested in you."

"You're overreacting, man."

"You need a dead duck hanging from the mast before you recognize the danger?" the tall cop asked harshly.

Blair's face dropped its smile in an instant. He pushed himself up from the bench and silently headed up the stairs without a glance to either man.

"Jim," Simon admonished softly.

"Yeah....I know, sir." Ellison scrubbed his face with both hands. Straightening his back as if going into heavy battle, he headed for the stairs.

Jim could hear the younger man on the deck. He opened the door and joined Blair. Not looking at each other, they stood side by side gazing out at the large bay. The coastline was mostly forest, broken in places with structures and docks. A few boats tied to mooring buoys bobbed in the water. A steady wind rippled designs on the surface of the water.

Jim turned to study his friend's face, a hint of moisture on long eyelashes made Jim's stomach churn.

"Shit, Chief. I'm a jerk sometimes."

Sandburg gave an unexpected bark of laughter, dropping his elbows to the rail as he relaxed his tense posture. He impatiently wiped his eyes, keeping his head down. "You're not a jerk, Jim. You just have a unique style of making your arguments. Sort of a direct attack, kinda thing," Blair explained quietly. He took a deep breath and straightened, turning to look at his tall friend.

"I'm just not used to it."

Ellison smiled. He appreciated the way his roommate was accepting the responsibility, but he couldn't allow it. These were the times Jim was forced to remember just how different the two of them were. His heavy-handed mannerisms cut the younger man's feelings like a sharp blade.

"Blair, that was out of line. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to get used to me being a jerk."

"Ya think?" Blair quipped with a slight one-legged bounce, giving him a lopsided effect.

Jim gently circled a long arm around the shorter man's neck and ruffled his long hair as he walked him back toward the door to the upper cabin. "Come on, Darwin. Let's get some work done."

The three men worked the rest of the morning. Jim supervising any job Blair started to do. If it required a lot of walking, stretching or climbing, he was stopped. Basically Sandburg found himself sitting; working to be sure, but from a sitting position. Simon took a moment to check in with Clark on his cell phone.

After a light lunch of sandwiches and chips, Banks advised the two men he was going to pick up the boat owner. Clark felt strong enough to treat all three to a cruise. He wanted to run the motor and make sure all was in working order.

Blair and Jim started tidying up the large cabin, in preparation of the trip. The cots were folded away, personal effects secured from possible unwanted movement once they were underway.

Returning to the lower cabin from a quick trip to the small galley above, Blair walked in time to see the owner of the sailboat stepping away from the prone form of Ellison sprawled on the floor.

"Jim!" Blair dropped the extension cord he had been carrying and rushed toward his friend, only to have Robert roughly grab his arm.

"No! Man, what did you do? He needs help!."

"Good...good." Robert lightly stroked Blair's other arm with his left hand.

Sandburg angrily shoved at the older man. "Stop it! Let me go!" He failed to see the fist coming as it slammed into the side of his head, causing his vision to fade into shades of gray.

Blair's world turned upside down as he felt himself being draped over a wide shoulder. Drifting for a few moments, his thoughts struggled to reorganize themselves. Before he could accomplish a simple motor task, Sandburg was tossed onto a soft platform. Callused hands stretched his arms above his head and his wrists were bound with a large diameter rope to a vertical bar. Then he was left alone.

Blair became aware of a deep vibration that shook the bed he laid on. His world began to move up and down as the vibrations increased, accompanied by the sound of a motor. Sandburg's thoughts snapped into alignment.

Robert! Robert was kidnapping him! No WAY.

"Hey! HEY! Robert!" Blair shouted, desperately looking around. He was on a `V' shaped bed commonly found in the very front of sailboats. Both wrists were tightly bound to either side of a three inch diameter pole at the end of the bed that was secured to the floor and ceiling of the cabin. His feet were pointing toward the bow of the boat. The interior cabin was neatly kept, teak gleamed in the light that came through the small windows. The door to the outside pilot area had been closed. "Robert! Stop the boat, man! Robert!"

Damn it! Blair twisted until he could get his feet to the head of the bed. By rotating his bound wrists he fell off the bed into a small aisle. But his arms remained tied in the original position, forcing his upper body to twist to the side. Reaching out as far as he could with both legs, Blair checked his reach. Nothing! As hard as he tried, his bare feet could not reach a drawer, cabinet or door within the interior living space of the boat.

Frustrated and out of breath, Sandburg returned to the bed and began worrying the knots with his teeth. The rope was large, similar to the size used to tie the boats to the pier cleats. After long minutes, the first knot began to loosen. He almost had the total knot untied and was ready to attack the next one when the light in the cabin increased and Blair realized his kidnapper had returned.

"Robert! Listen to me, man." Sandburg hastily tried to hide the attempts to free himself. "You do not want to do this!"

Robert silently approached, causing Blair to shrink back as much as his position allowed. Blair had a brief mental question as to who was steering the boat.

The big man examined the ropes thoughtfully. He looked at Blair and reached out with his right hand, stroking Blair's nearest arm.

Blair's felt the blood in his veins freeze in fear. He shook his head adamantly. "No. Robert, please. I don't want this..." he pleaded softly.

"Good."

"NO!" Blair shouted. "Not good!"

Robert clapped both hands over his ears, his face contorted in pain, then anger. With lighting fast reflexes, he struck out. Again, Blair's world turned gray.

Jim woke with a bad headache. Simon was kneeling on the floor next to him. Clark was on the cell phone talking with the police dispatcher.

"You with me now, Jim?"

"Yeah." Jim carefully felt the lump behind his ear. "That damn guy from the sailboat, Robert. He hit me- Shit! Simon! Where's Blair?"

"Gone. Sailboat's gone. No one at the store saw anything. The police should be here soon." Banks started to prevent his friend from sitting up, but aborted the action when he saw the look Jim gave him.

"What time is it?" Jim's head threatened to fragment into a thousand pieces, looking at his watch was out of the question.

"2:15"

Ellison smacked the floorboards with an open hand. "He's had too much of a head start. We need to call the coast guard."

"I know, Jim. That's what Clark is doing now." Simon got a hand under one arm as Jim levered himself clumsily to a standing position.

The police arrived to take the report. Clark could only tell them that Robert had arrived about six months before. Despite friendly overtures, he had kept to himself. The paperwork in the store gave the police a last name and a driver's license number. Within a few minutes, thanks to the state's computer system with the Department Of Licensing, they had enough information to start a records' search for criminal priors.

Jim sat in the main cabin holding a chemical ice pack to his head. The local volunteer ambulance crew had checked him over and was recommending transport to the hospital when they learned how long their patient had been unconscious. Ellison thanked them kindly but firmly for their concern and signed the back of their form indicating his refusal.

"Simon, we're wasting time!" Jim complained to his boss after the EMS crew packed up and left.

"We need some direction before we start chasing our tails, Jim. You know that."

Jim rested his chin on his chest. His head was feeling better, but he knew Blair's kidnapper had given him a concussion. "Damn it, Simon. I can't believe I turned my back on that guy. He stopped by to ask about Blair. He even apologized about his behavior from before." Jim raised his head to stare blankly out the far window. "I never even saw it coming."

Simon joined his friend on the bench. "Jim, what would this guy want with Sandburg?"

"That's the question I'd like to ask."

Both men looked toward the speaker standing in the open doorway. A woman in her early fifties stood in a county sheriff's uniform. Jim noticed the rank on her collar.

"Sheriff Jolene Hicks." She crossed the cabin and shook hands with Simon as he stood to his feet. He dwarfed her by several feet. She waved Jim back to his seat when he made movements to join them. "Sit! I understand you refused our fine accommodations at County General."

"I'm Simon Banks, this is Jim Ellison and Clark Morley. Clark owns this boat."

She nodded to both men and looked at Jim. "Sorry about your partner. I don't make a habit of responding to crime scenes, but then again, we don't have too many vacationing police officers kidnapped in our county."

"Please join us," Simon invited, his mother's admonishment to never sit in front of a lady kicking in. "Sandburg isn't one of my officers. He's a police observer."

She sat on the bench next to Simon that lined the middle of the cabin, allowing them to face Jim and Clark. "What kind of observer?"

Simon hesitated, then glanced at the sentinel. "He started out by observing police societies for a paper he's writing. Sandburg's an anthropologist, he teaches at Rainier University." He noted she nodded at the name of the school. "He's turned into more of a volunteer consultant. He's very instrumental in solving crimes that need insight into human behavior."

If he hadn't been so worried, Jim would have enjoyed watching his boss explain to this Sheriff why a kid that dressed like an explosion from the sixties was a vital police resource.

"Are you two working on any case right now that might explain who would want to take your observer?" the sheriff asked.

"No. Nothing we can think of. My detectives are pulling the last 12 months of Jim's files to see if there might be a connection."

She pulled a small notebook out of her back pocket. "This is what I learned on the way over. You already know this guy is Robert Lanfers. He's thirty-six years old. Served as a marine when he was twenty. Stayed active until he was thirty-two. Then it's vague until he shows up again down in the V.A. hospital in Seattle. He stayed there for about six months until he was released for two years outpatient care. No criminal records until a few years ago. Simple assault, dismissed. Disorderly conduct, found guilty, got 2 days and closed. Then nothing. He has a PO box in LaConnor for a mailing address. He let his drivers' license expire without renewing it. But no infractions, no current vehicle."

"You got a lot in just the drive over," Clark said admiringly.

"What I don't have is why he snatched a college professor and where they are now."

The second time in under an hour that Sandburg became cognizant of his surroundings, he found his ankles lashed to a railing that ran down both sides of the `V' berth. A narrow shelf had been built in for personal effects, and the railing kept them from hitting the sleeper when the boat rocked in the waves. His wrists had been retied so a length of rope about six inches long tethered him to the pole. In his present position, he lacked the ability to reach his hands with his teeth and his hands could not reach the knots on the pole. He also lacked the ability to talk, as a cloth had been stuffed into his mouth and tied in place. Blair spent a few minutes rubbing his cheek against his arm to try and remove whatever it was that had been tied around his head. He gave up.

The vibration he'd felt earlier was gone. The quiet was almost absolute. There was only the gentle splash of water on the hull. They must be under sail. Wow! He realized then, he'd never been sailing before. Without the motor, the experience must be awesome. Movement without machine.

And I'm down below, trussed up like a sacrificial lamb.

Oh, bad mental image. What was he thinking?

How long had he been out this time? The light in the cabin looked the same. Not too long, he guessed. His mind tried to take him back to what Robert had been doing before he'd shouted, but he refused to take that ride.

Was Jim okay? He tried to remember if he'd seen any blood on the unconscious cop. No. Okay then, maybe just knocked out? Sure. This guy had a right hook that felt like a kick from a mule or kangaroo. Blair's fast mind took a detour wondering which was harder.

Oh, get a grip! It was not the time to play animal kingdom when this guy's got plans for your-. NO! Not taking that ride, remember? Blair angrily reminded himself.

Okay, back to Jim. So, he's okay now. More than likely woke up by now. So now, Jim is looking for him. Simon is there too. They're both looking for him.

So everything will be fine.

Sure.

It worked. His mind relaxed, the gentle movement in the water eased him into slumber.

Jim, Simon and Clark joined Sheriff Hicks in the small store at the marina. Jim explained in detail the two meetings he had witnessed between Blair and Lanfers. Simon noted he did omit to mention the first night on board the boat, when Jim had realized that Lanfers had been able to listen in to his conversation with Sandburg.

"I don't like this picture of Lanfers repeatedly touching your friend," Hicks bluntly stated, fists resting on her wide hips.

Jim nodded in agreement. "I didn't think...at the time Lanfers would try..."

Hicks held up her hand to stop the response. "No one could! Remember that, Detective. Hind sight is always twenty-twenty."

Simon could have kissed her on the mouth, if he didn't think for a minute she'd deck him.

They had hung a closed sign in the front window of the store and turned it into a command post. The coast guard was in contact by phone and fax. Highway patrol and nearby city police departments had been contacted. Any and every law enforcement agency with access to a vehicle or boat was aware of Blair's kidnapping and the description of the sailboat.

Simon was amused to overhear the county animal control officer check in by radio asking for an update. He'd spotted a sailboat at anchor several miles down the coast, but the registration number was wrong.

As the group studied the detailed NOAH charts, Banks was sharply aware of how large their haystack really was. Without knowing the direction and given the length of time that had lapsed, it was a massive operation. A marine radio in the corner of the store remained oblivious of the excitement. By mutual agreement, all agencies did not use the public marine ship-to-ship channels to coordinate the search operation. Lanfers would be able to monitor the search.

As the afternoon gave way to early evening, the information was gathered. Reports from deputies that were canvassing the stores near public docks came in on police frequencies. Some of the store employees south of the their location recalled seeing a man similar to the photo from the driver's license buy supplies from them over the last several months.

Hicks knew a prominent Seattle ER doctor with ties to the VA hospital. Simon watched with growing respect as the five-foot sheriff bullied the well known physician into patching a conference call through to the private residence of a now retired VA doctor.

After being informed of the situation, the doctor would only admit to remembering the man was complaining of `hearing voices' and believing he was going insane. He tried to convince the hospital staff he had some skin condition that made touching most things painful. He started to develop many routines in his personal habits, always doing some minor task in the exact same manner. When asked if Lanfers had any criminal tendencies, the doctor fell back on vague medical mumbo jumbo that basically protected any patient from having incriminating information released without proper court orders. Simon was shocked that the woman got as much as she did. She was amazing!

Another contact of hers was having the court records accessed to get information on the two criminal charges. After involving a few management personnel to check the computer, they learned nothing new. The paper reports had been archived off site. It would have to wait until tomorrow.

"I've got to tell you, Sheriff. I've never met anyone that has such a practical network like what I've seen today," Simon admitted as she searched in her small leather book for another phone number.

She snorted in a very unladylike manner. "I love that word. Network. I've been doing that before it became such a popular buzz word." She gazed seriously up to Simon's face. "Treat your colleagues with respect, even when they don't deserve it. Always help when and if you can. And never forget to write down their name and phone number. You may need to remind them later if you need a favor in return."

Simon and Jim both pulled out their wallets and took out a business card. They carefully printed their home, cell and pager numbers on the back and handed them over. She accepted them with a stoic expression and tucked them into her uniform pocket.

"Any time. Anything," Ellison pledged.

Both friends looked over at Clark who had been watching with a smile. He gave them a knowing look. "She's had my card for over three years now."

A deputy called out from the table that held the chart. The four quickly joined the group again. The coast guard had personnel and responsible volunteers set up the three key positions on the water. Each team was equipped with nigh vision technology. Due to the estimated maximum hull speed of the boat, each position was far enough away to insure that a net had been thrown far enough out to catch their quarry. Now, all that was left was a systematic search of each grid on the chart.

"Well gentlemen. Now for the part that never makes the cop shows. The real work," Hicks announced. She turned to Clark. "You and your boat up to joining the search? I'm sure we can find a couple of deputized out of jurisdiction city cops that would like to join you."

Simon watched has Jim almost leaped towards the door. He helped Clark accept copies of the search map and an extra police two-way radio.

"You'll be search team ...Tango. I won't give you a search area. Just follow your intuitions, but keep me informed. Got it?" She gave Banks a no nonsense glare.

"Yes, ma'am."

They were out of the store and pulling away from the dock in less than five minutes. The sun had set, but Simon estimated another hour or so of light. Clark switched on the navigation lights and radar. After a brief conference, the two city cops decided to head south, based on the reports from the store employees and the doctor's statement about Lanfer's dedication to personal routines.

Jim stood out on the deck next to the open door of the pilot station, wordlessly watching the open water.

He trusted his friend's skill to pilot the boat in the dark. With the amount of boats out looking, buzzing around the waters, they'd be lucky not to hit another searching vessel. Banks looked up at the darkening sky. It would appear that the Washington coast had another `Mosquito Fleet'.

When Blair woke, some one was stroking his arm.

Fuzzy thoughts delayed the panic attack for a minute or so, but then it hit with the force of a metro bus. He jerked awake, straining against the ropes that bound his hands and ankles. Muffled protests were inadequate to stop the touching.

Robert was sitting on the edge of the bed, slightly turned so he could comfortably reach out and lazily stroke from the front of Blair's arm where his T-shirt sleeve stopped all the way to the ropes on his wrist. Then, without lifting his hand, he retraced the path.

Blair froze. His eyes wide, he was unable to look anywhere but at his kidnapper's face, as if hoping to catch a clue announcing what the man intended to do. After several strokes, Blair realized he needed to start breathing again. He tried to release the air from his lungs as motionlessly as he could, but he tripped on his fear, his terror, and the air rushed out in a noisy sob.

Again he froze. But the slack muscled face didn't seem to notice. Slowly Sandburg let his lungs work again, trying to keep his breaths as invisible as possible.

Surely he could handle this, right? After all, it was just some guy petting his arm. Granted he didn't want to be petted. What was he anyway, someone's dog?

He let his eyes wander around the cabin. He was still in the same position. An oil lamp was lit. It swung from some complicated looking gimbals device that kept it level.

So it was night now. Were they back at a dock? Floating adrift? No, probably at anchor somewhere. No one could see inside that way. He tried not to think about that anymore. He was becoming scared again.

Scared did not help. He learned that from experience.

He glanced at Robert's face again, no change there. Funny. He looked a little like Jim when the sentinel was in a zone. That caused his mind to grab hold of a new idea like a lifeline.

Didn't Jim say that this guy had overheard them the first night? Could he have sentinel like hearing? He sure reacted earlier that afternoon when Blair had shouted. That was just like Jim.

But why was he doing this? And okay, Blair had to admit the touching thing was beginning to get on his nerves. He took a chance and jerked his arm up, moving away from his captor as much as he could.

Robert seemed to jerk back to awareness and frowned at the man who was pressing himself against the wall of the `V' berth. Blair tried to speak through the gag, as he shook his head from side to side.

"Nnnn.... Nnnnn mmmmrrrrr"

Robert stood up and walked toward the galley. He sat at the table with his back towards Blair. By twisting his head up and back, Blair could see the man was eating something. He let his head fall back on the bed.

Okay then, I guess I showed him who was in charge. Yeah, right! Blair thought in disgust. I've got this guy right where I want him! If I wasn't gagged, I'd ask if he's ready to give himself up yet.

After a bit the sound of movement caused Sandburg to look again. Robert was setting a dish in a sink and began washing and then drying. After tidying up, he disappeared outside, then reappeared, turned the oil lamp down low and calmly walked forward again, removing his pants and shirt, leaving his boxer shorts on and climbed into bed with Blair.

OhGodOhGodOhGod.

Blair's heart rate soared. He fought the ropes in panic, without thinking. Then he stilled as the reality hit him. He wasn't going anywhere, not unless this guy let him.

Calm down, man. He hasn't done anything yet.

The man adjusted a light cotton blanket over himself, then almost as an afterthought he flipped the cover over to include the legs of his prisoner.

The stroking began again, same place, same patterns, same speed. Blair tried to relax. Yes, this was annoying. But at least he knew about this little fetish. He could do this.

Even if it was TOTALLY nuts!

The problem with this situation, Blair reasoned, was there was nothing to think about. He ended up counting each stroke. How crazy was that?

If Robert was ...maybe the blonde from records at the "U" then this could be filed under a fantasy date. However, Blair was not able to mask the very manly, callused hand as it ran up and down his arm. The sound of his breathing, the odor from his body and the way the mattress dipped down under his weight.

God, this was freaking him out!

He started to feel his skin burn as the hand passed over each cell. How long had he been doing this? An hour? Two?

Without warning, the stroking stopped, Robert sat up and two hands flipped Sandburg over, face down. Blair bucked in terror at the sudden change in position. He yelled into the cloth, his nostrils widening to accommodate enough air to pass through for the next muffled scream of `no'.

His T-shirt was yanked up high on his shoulders, and the stroking started again, this time from the waist of his cutoffs to his neck and back again.

Blair's thrashing slowly reduced down to just his shoulders heaving as his pent-up emotions and fears broke with wracking sobs and tears that soaked the sheet under his head.

The callused hand continued to move down and up and down...

With his cheek pressed against the wet sheet and his head turned away from his bed partner, Blair forced himself to steady his breathing. With his luck, the show of emotion would cause his sinuses to swell and he'd suffocate.

Robert had laid back down, closer that Blair would like to think about, and repeatedly stroked his back. Sometimes he would move on to another part of his back. Blair realized that, unlike his arm, he seemed to be able to withstand this treatment on his back better. Perhaps it was something to do with how the nerves were different on a person's back.

Blair forced his mind to recall lectures from the last semester. When that supply of facts ran out, he started naming everything he could remember in his office at Rainier, counter-clock wise starting with his desk. When he had finished he mentally listed the artifacts on the storage shelves, then the large hand stilled.

Blair stopped breathing. His body tensed waiting for the next stage in this nightmare. The hand moved across his back, in a possessive hold, so that he was enveloped in an intimate hug, and stilled.

Light snoring. The guy was asleep.

Blair shivered from the cool temperatures in the cabin. Super, he ended up with a psycho roommate that was warm blooded like Jim. As if the man had read Blair's mind, he moved in close, pressing his entire length against Blair's side, still sound asleep.

Blair hated it. But the body heat was better than the cold. He guessed the time to be somewhere in the early morning hours. The boat was barely rocking. He longed for Jim's hearing, to be able to hear something. He let his eyelids close, willing his body to relax.

The first conscious thought was awareness that his throat was parched. Sunlight had returned to the cabin. The pressure of his tormentor's arm was still across his back.

The second thought was the message his bladder was sending.

Robert's arm squeezed him slightly, then released him. The man kicked the blanket off his legs and rose to crawl off the bed. The sound of water being poured into a glass and gulped down made Sandburg moan.

Rustling of cloth. He must be getting dressed again. THAT was good news!

Then a large hand was on the back of Blair's head. A short stroke on his hair.

"Good."

Blair flinched at the sound of Robert's voice. He'd almost forgotten the man was capable of talking. He realized with a start, the knot behind his head was being untied.

Okay, was that a message of `be good' or `I am good'? Didn't matter. He'd be both if it meant the gag could stay off.

The cloth was removed from his mouth and Blair allowed his jaw to painfully close. Strong arms flipped him in a reverse of last night. He wasn't able to restrain a startled yelp from escaping.

"Quiet. No talking."

Blair nodded hastily to show his willingness to comply. He wanted to shout with joy however when he saw the man holding a glass. God, was he going to get some water?

Robert sat on the edge again and tilted Blair's head, bringing the plastic glass to his lips. Yes! Nothing had ever tasted so good to Sandburg as that water. He downed half the glass before the offering was withdrawn.

Blair licked his dry lips. "Thanks..." he whispered automatically, then snapped his jaws shut in fear. Shit! Already broke the big rule!

The edges of Robert's mouth turned slightly up in a wry smile. No anger. Blair studied the face timidly. In fact, this morning, the guy looked almost normal. Most of his facial muscles had been allowed to relax, he looked ... friendly?

Blair's whole body began to shake. What did that mean? He closed his eyes, unable to watch anymore. He wished he could think straight, surely his body was done producing adrenaline for a while! What's the use of preparing a guy to run from danger when the mind should know it was not an option!

"It's better now."

Blair opened his eyes.

"Doesn't hurt."

Searching his brain for a proper response, Blair purposefully kept his voice quiet. "The sounds, you mean?"

Robert nodded.

"Your hearing too loud?"

"Yes. I'm crazy."

"No." Blair hesitated. Should he disagree with this guy? He decided on honesty. "You're probably not crazy. Do any of your other four senses give you problems?"

Robert looked at his unwilling guest with a thoughtful expression.

"My skin gets rashes, doctors don't see it. Everything hurts."

"Okay, okay. Listen to me, Robert. You have hypersensitive audio and tactical recep..." Blair changed tactics. "You have very good ears and real sensitive skin. But I can help you, man."

"Yes. With you here, it's better." Robert turned and opened a cupboard.

"No!" Blair gasped, was that too loud? He rushed out the next words softly. "What it mean, is - I can show you how to control them. You don't have to....Is that why you touch me?"

Robert surprised the younger man again by looking embarrassed.

"Never mind. I can train you to dial your senses down, to normal if you want. Robert, kidnapping me is wrong! You know that, right?" Oops, now that was stupid. If he gets defensive, that's very close to anger and Blair did not want to send the man in that direction. "Sorry, sorry. Forget that. But I want to help you with this. It's kinda like a job with me."

"You're a doctor?"

"Anthropologist, actually. But I study senses. I know I can help."

"You do," Robert informed him flatly.

Blair dropped his head back down in frustration. Okay, this was going to take some time. But first he needed to get to a bathroom.

"Robert, I really have to use a bathroom. You don't want me to ruin the bed, do you?"

He watched the man reach a decision and move to untie the rope from the pole. "Don't try and get away."

"Right. Thanks, man."

With the ropes off his ankles, Blair could scoot forward to sit on the edge of the bed. Robert would not untie his wrists but he released him from the pole. He waited for the feeling to return to his feet, gritting his teeth when the pins and needles attacked. He was allowed to walk to the back of he cabin and into a small bathroom. Robert refused to close the door or turn away. With a red face, Blair did his business. He was escorted back to the bed.

"Please. Can't I just sit up for a while?"

Robert nodded and tethered him by the rope from his hands to the side railing. He even pushed a square cushion behind his back to lean on.

A kettle of water was placed on a small stove. Blair watched his host set out two bowls and prepare a simple breakfast of oatmeal. He was allowed to eat it in bed; his hand's awkwardly scooping the spoon into the meal. Blair managed a couple of bites, but stopped. His stomach was in knots. After the bowl was removed, Blair asked for more water. Again, Robert acceded to his request. Then retied his hands to the railing.

Blair was beginning to see some hope. Maybe he could get the man to release him. He was becoming confident that Robert did not need him for anything more than to ease his personal torment from the overactive senses. How Blair figured he fit into that remedy was beyond the student's understanding.

"Okay, lets try something, man. I want you to sit down. Close your eyes." Encouraged by the kidnapper's obedience, he continued, "I want you to picture a dial, like on a radio."

Robert's eyes opened.. "No," he said with a frown.

Blair stopped, his mouth still open to give the next instruction.

"No?" He tilted his head. "Why not?"

Robert stood and approached. He reached out and grabbed both of Blair's ankles.

Sandburg kicked out with both feet, resisting. "Wait! Let me try, man!"

Robert roughly pulled Sandburg toward him, forcing him to uncurl until he was lying on his back. He pinned Blair's legs to his side with one arm and picked up the rope that had been used just that morning. Blair continued to plead with his kidnapper as his legs were tied off at the ankle to the pole. Now Sandburg was tied hand and foot, but in the reverse direction on the bed. Robert climbed up alongside and rucked up the T-shirt again, exposing Blair's chest.

"Robert! This will work! You don't have to do this."

"Quiet! Or I'll gag you."

Blair shut up. His abdominal muscles twitched with the first contact with the big hand. Blair tried to convince himself this was not an intimate action. This was a screwed up half-sentinel with faulty hard wiring! But damn it! Each time he did this, it creeped him out big time!

Robert was sitting sideways on the bed next to him, leaning on one arm, and stroking him with the other. Having the big guy tower over him was too intimidating.

Blair opened his mouth to plead again, but before he could begin, the man gave him a stinging slap in the face that echoed in the small cabin. Blair turned his face away, closing his eyes. He fought with his sudden urge to scream and buck against the ropes.

A few tears leaked out, but he won the internal battle and endured.

Ellison watched the sun break over the distant tree line. The night had been full of repeated episodes of false alarms. Similar styled sailboats were reported, and then crossed off. Strange behavior was investigated. Any possible report was checked out. They found numerous boats without the proper licensing required to be operating on the salt water and even a meth lab! But no Blair Sandburg.

Simon had stayed by his side the entire night, watching for a zone. Jim was being careful. He wanted to extend his senses to China, but he feared his friend would not be able to bring him out. What he needed, his military-disciplined mind reasoned, was a back-up Blair. Something he could take out and dust off when the real thing was missing. Jim had never explained to Simon or Blair how much better his senses behaved when Sandburg stood by his side. He'd tried to the day in Simon's office, when his boss had recommended letting the observer go after believing Blair had been responsible for leaking vital information to the media.

Jim scanned a new boat that appeared in his vision. No, it wasn't the one they wanted.

He resumed his thoughts, waiting for the next boat to appear. When he'd tried to explain the importance Sandburg shared in his skills to Simon that day, he had sounded lame, even to himself. I'll tell him. I'll explain it to Sandburg the first time the two of them sit down to share a beer.

"What about that one, Jim?" Simon asked, pointing to the sailboat he had already scanned and disregarded.

Jim shook his head. He hadn't said much in the last few hours. He realized he'd better start talking or Simon would interpret his silence as a need for a break. He couldn't afford the luxury right now.

"Already checked it out. Man and wife with two kids. They're fixing breakfast."

"Oh."

Jim had an idea. He stepped back from the rail. "I'll be right back." And headed down the stairs. Searching through his personal clothes, he located the T-shirt he'd loaned to his roommate two days ago, after the jellyfish incident. He took a sniff, closing his eyes. Quickly, he stripped off his shirt and pulled it over his head. The presence of his guide filled his personal space. Returning to his captain, Jim took the steps two at a time.

"Simon, I'm going to try something. If I zone, just do what you have to, okay?"

"Wait! What are you talking about? I don't know what Blair does in that sort of situation!" Banks protested in a panicked voice.

"Slap me. Punch me. Hell, Simon, I don't care if you bite me. But I've got to try this." Jim grasped the rail with both hands and took a deep breath, marking the scent of Blair as it drifted off the shirt. Closing his eyes, he extended his hearing.

The sounds were examined one at a time and set aside. Slow seconds became minutes, still the sentinel worked. Pick up the sound, identify it, and set it to one side. The mental image of the discarded pile was growing. How high could it get before it toppled over and fell on him?

The next sound he picked up was like a beautiful symphony.

(Sorry, sorry. Forget that. But I want to help you with this. It's kinda like a job with me.)

Jim smiled, his first movement in over twenty minutes. He continued to listen then opened his eyes and searched the horizon. Banks had the search chart in his hand and was holding it out, ready for Jim to study.

Jim's gaze landed on a mental compass point and he extended his arm out, it was a two o'clock position from the direction they were now heading.

"That way, Simon. I can hear Blair."

Simon rushed in to Clark and they took a heading and steered a new course.

"Is he okay, Jim?" Simon asked with evident concern after returned to join his friend.

"Yeah, he's talking with Lanfers." Jim smiled in pride. "He sounds okay."

They motored at full throttle; the diesel tank had been topped off at a nearby marina. Jim reached out with his hearing as they went. The course was taking them into a series of small islands in the San Juan's.

Ellison gave updates as they went. Blair was talking. Blair was asking to use the head. He was allowed to eat. He asked for water.

Suddenly Jim tensed.

"Damn it!"

"What is it!"

Jim closed his eyes, tilting his head. He grimaced.

"Hurry. We've got to get there, Simon."

"Tell me, Jim!"

Ellison looked at his boss with eyes filled with anguish.

"He's being..." his voice faltered.

"Oh, god..."

Sandburg let his thoughts drift. He had itemized all the contents in his office, room and the living room loft. Now he was working on the kitchen. The stroking had continued nonstop for all most an hour, he'd guessed.

The kitchen list was done.

Why had he failed with the dials? He kept coming back to the same question. It worked with Jim.

Okay, I'm a teacher. I took an entire year on the psychology of learning. Blair tried to remember the basics. Robert fell under the principles of teaching an adult; the term was called `andragogy'. Adults have three domains of learning. Before he could get this guy to listen to him, Blair needed to review Abraham Maslow's `Hierarchy of Needs'.

Sandburg smiled to the wall he had been staring at for an hour. Who knew all this stuff he learned from Professor Mey could be so useful!

Okay, back to the problem. Robert was in his own environment, so step one is met. Step two was security. Blair had to steel himself to prevent from snorting.

Right now, I'm the damn security blanket!

Blair did think, however, that the problem was somewhere at this level. How could he coach his kidnapper through this? I wanted to introduce a new idea to him. So what was it that triggered a negative response. He used dials. Jim liked dials. It was the law of association, you go from the known to the unknown. So, Robert doesn't like dials? Why not?

Oh, shit!

Blair would have slapped his forehead with his palm if it wasn't currently tied to a rail. Dials commonly represent noise. Robert said the noise was too loud. Blair groaned.

Oops! He waited, no response from the other man. The hand continued to stroke. Man! How long was this going to go on!

Focus, Sandburg! So, no dials. What then? Then he had it. Blair turned to look at his captor. Did he look relaxed? Yeah, maybe a little.

"Robert?" Blair said softly, waiting. No slap. Okay, that's got to be on the plus side. "Can you close your eyes and picture a sail, like the big one on a sailboat?"

"Main sail."

"Okay, right. Picture the main sail."

Robert closed his eyes. The hand stopped, resting over his heart.

"The sail is full, do you see it?"

"Yeah."

Blair could have shouted for joy.

"Good. Now that sail is your ears. When the sail is up and full, your hearing is all the way open. Now, we're going to slowly drop the sail, together. When that starts to happen. Those noises are going to get quieter." Blair kept his voice steady, like when he worked with Jim. "Here we go, lower the main sail....it's at three quarters....the sounds are getting fainter....now it's at half....quieter....now its at one quarter. This is normal. If you want to you can lower them all the way, but only if you want all quiet. Just remember to slowly raise it to one quarter and leave it there."

Robert's face looked shocked. He sat up straight, leaning away from Blair. Opening his eyes, his jaw hung slack as he looked around the cabin. Scooting off the bed he rushed for the door to the upper deck. Blair lifted his head and waited, a huge grin splitting his face.

A few seconds later, Robert rushed back in, his braid bouncing. He dropped onto his knees on the bed next to Sandburg.

"Do this with my skin! Please!"

Blair nodded happily. "Sure, close your eyes. What's the name of the front sail?"

"Jib!"

"Fine, your sense of touch is the Jib..." Blair did the same with that sail as well. Robert's body started to shake as he reached out and touched the blanket, the mattress, then finally Blair's face. He gently rubbed the stubble on his prisoner's cheek.

"Better?"

"Yes." Robert dropped his hand with a heavy sigh of relief. He began to loosen the rope at Sandburg's feet. Blair gave himself a mental `high-five' as his feet came free. Then the knots at the railing were untied and Blair was helped to sit up. Sandburg inched down toward the edge of the berth until his legs were draped over the side. He pulled his T-shirt down and held out his wrists toward the man.

Rather than untying his bonds, Robert levered Blair up and moved him into the galley to sit him on a padded bench by the table.

"Robert? Man, are you going to untie me?"

Robert stretched Sandburg's arms toward the middle of the table where it joined with the side of the cabin. The edge of the table dug into Blair's stomach. The rope was lashed to a sturdy bar that ran the length of the table.

"Robert! Don't do this!" Blair shouted, pulling on the rail. The man did not even flinch. Blair realized he'd turned his hearing completely down! Any control Sandburg had exploded with intense anger.

"I HELPED you! You caveman! UNTIE me now!" Blair screamed with all the volume he could manage. Blair found another rope looped around his neck and tied off to some point behind his back. The end result was simple. Blair could sit at the table with his arms extended. Any movement forward or to the side was impossible unless he wanted to choke himself.

Robert smiled knowingly and returned to the `V' berth, out of Sandburg's sight. Blair jerked hard again on the railing, causing the rope to chafe his skin. The railing was secure. Blair knew it would accomplish zilch, but he'd had enough. The unfairness of this treatment sent him into a rage.

"You WAIT until Jim gets here, man! He's gonna so kick your ASS! You are toast!"

Blair's throat burned from the abuse. The sound of his own blood pulsed loudly in his ears. He rested his forehead on his arms in defeat, breathing hard.

Shit! When did he loose control of this situation? He'd been positive that Robert was releasing him. His original fears returned. What did he know about this guy? Nothing. He'd expected a simple `thank you, Blair. You saved my life.' What he got was more like, `I'll take everything you're giving and save the rest to take from you later.'.

Blair became aware of the sound of soft snoring coming from behind him. Oh, sure! Probably the first good sleep this guy's had in who knows how long.

"Jim, I know you're looking for me. This guy is insane, man," Blair informed his absent friend. Hadn't Jim heard the Russians talking on that freighter? They had to be looking for him! No way would Ellison sit on the side-lines, unless of course he had been hurt when Robert had knocked him out.

"No, man. I'm not going to believe that! You are looking for me. You and Simon. Okay, listen. This nut is sleeping. He's turned his hearing completely down. So make with the rescue! Any time would be great, big guy! I won't even ask you to stop if you want to use him for a punching bag!" Blair sighed. Man, what would his mother say!

"I'm not going to ask how Jim managed to locate the sailboat that half the resources in the area are searching for, Simon." Clark lowered his high-powered binoculars and looked at his friend.

"File this away for me, buddy," Simon requested. "Someday, you and I will sit down and talk about this over a beer."

"Would that be when we're sharing a room in the old folks' home?"

"Probably."

Jim joined the two men in the small pilothouse. "Okay, Lanfers is asleep. We need to get alongside without touching his boat. Simon and I should be able to jump on board and get to him before he can touch Sandburg."

"Shouldn't we wait for the sheriff?" Clark asked.

Ellison slipped his Jags cap from his back pocket and snugged it down on his head, providing his eyes with shade from the bright sun. "No, we need to get in there before he wakes up. Can you get us close?"

"Sure, but he's going to hear my engines."

"Trust me, it's not a problem."

Clark looked at Simon for guidance. Simon clapped the man on the shoulder. "It's okay, Clark. Part of that `old folk's home talk' we're going to have."

They had found the sailboat in a small bay. The old ferry ate up the distance in no time. There was very little wind. When they got close, Jim and Simon were prepared to jump from the higher deck into the seating area at the rear of the sailboat. Both men had their handguns drawn and ready to use if needed.

An evil smile appeared on Jim's face as he listened to his roommate's last comment.

(I won't even ask you to stop if you want to use him for a punching bag!)

"When we get through the doorway to the cabin, you get to Blair. I'm going for Lanfers," Jim told his boss.

Simon looked at the expression on his officer's face and shook his head. "No way, detective. I'm on Lanfers. I'm not letting you near him, you hearing me?"

Jim ground his teeth in frustration. But finally the ingrained training of the ex-ranger won the internal battle with the enraged sentinel. "Fine!" he whispered harshly.

Clark maneuvered his large boat alongside with ease. Both men jumped, Simon was first as they threw themselves through open hatch into the cabin. Jim had a brief glimpse of Lanfers over his boss's broad back. The kidnapper was trying to scramble off the forward `V' berth, but Simon stopped him by planting him face down into the mattress, his automatic pressing hard into the back of his neck.

"Freeze!" Banks bellowed, just in case the gun wasn't making enough of a statement to the kidnapper.

Jim gave his attention to Blair.

"Sandburg? Are you okay?"

Blair gave his friend a shaky smile. He was sitting, his upper body stretched out, wrists roped to a rail. A rope around his neck was pulling the opposite way, effectively hog-tying him. Blair's hair was a mess, his T-shirt wrinkled, a crop of stubble looked out of place on his normally clean-shaven face. But what distressed the sentinel was the haunted look in his partner's bloodshot eyes.

"Get me out of here, man," Blair pleaded even though Jim had already started on the rope around his neck. Blair tugged impatiently with his arms at the railing.

"Easy. Don't do that, Chief."

"Hurry."

Jim finished with the first rope and leaned across the table to reach the railing. "I am, Blair. Just another minute, okay?" He whispered above his roommate's head. Blair nodded, face resting on his arms.

The ropes came off, leaving angry red marks on both wrists. Blair pushed himself up from the table, moving with obvious pain as he stood. With a gentle touch, Jim steadied his friend with a hand on his elbow. Ignoring the subtle flinch from the contact, he glanced over at Simon.

"You okay if I take Sandburg above?"

"Go, we're fine here."

"Come on, Chief. Let's get you out of here."

Jim watched his friend scramble up the short ladder with unsteady movements. Squinting his eyes in the bright sunlight, Blair turned his head searching for the other boat in desperation. Joining his friend outside, Jim saw that Clark had backed the larger boat away a few feet. Sandburg started to climb onto the seats intending to jump for the other boat.

Ellison jumped into action. "Whoa! Hold up, Sandburg." He took the smaller man by the arm.

Blair reacted unexpectedly, trying to jerk out of his friend's firm hold. "Let me GO. Don't touch me!"

Unwilling to risk that the distraught man would try to jump, Jim turned Sandburg towards him, holding both upper arms. "Blair! Calm down!" he ordered loudly. He softened his voice. "Chief, please hold it together for me, okay?"

Blair stopped fighting. Dropping his head down, he placed both hands on Jim's biceps. Jim could feel the tremors in the slight frame.

"You okay?" Jim asked. He didn't smell any blood or ... Jim's thoughts refused to accept the possibilities. But what had he heard earlier? Hating to ask, he found he had to. "Sandburg, he didn't touch you, did he?"

A bitter sounding bark of laughter erupted from his friend. Blair fell forward, causing Jim to stumble back a step to steady them both. Blair's burst of laughter ran out of air, the next inhalation was hitched as he buried his face into his friend's t-shirt.

Jim immediately closed his arms around his distraught roommate. God! He wanted to kill that man! He hugged Sandburg tight. Blair was still half-laughing and half-sobbing as he rocked his head slightly.

"Oh, man! Jim. Get me off the boat...I ..." a soft muffled voice tickled Jim's neck.

"Okay, wait a minute." Jim raised a hand to wave at Clark who had been sadly watching from the pilothouse. In a few seconds the large boat returned and Clark rafted the two boats together. He opened the lower door and waited as Jim helped a calmer Blair on board.

Jim nodded over his shoulder toward the sailboat. "Are you up to seeing if Simon's okay?"

"Sure, good to see you, Blair." He was careful not to touch the freed man. "Jim, the sheriff and coast guard are less then ten minutes out."

Sandburg stood uncertainly, looking around the familiar cabin. Jim noticed he was still trembling.

"Why don't you sit down? I'll get you something to drink."

Blair shook his head.

"Then just sit, you're not looking too steady right now, buddy." Jim snagged his sleeping bag from under a bench and spread it out.

Blair did not resist as Jim urged him onto the bench. He knelt down and examined the angry looking rope burns on his friend's wrists.

"I'll get these cleaned up."

"Jim." Blair took a deep breath and looked into the cop's eyes. "I'm okay now. Sorry I lost it. But, wow man, you have no idea..."

Jim moved to sit beside his friend. "Tell me."

Blair rubbed his face with both hands. He looked exhausted. Jim wondered how much sleep he'd gotten, if any.

"First of all. He didn't to any thing but touch me." Blair saw the look he got with that remark. "Hey, seriously. He just ...ran his hand up and down my arm. Then my back and front." Blair swallowed. "I admit he totally creeped me out, but that was it."

"Blair, I heard him hit you."

"Yeah, okay. He did rough me up some." He looked up with interest. "Hey! How far out were you when you first heard me?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Later, Sandburg."

"Right."

"So he never sexually assaulted you?"

Blair's face reddened and Jim felt the increase of heat. "No, at first I thought he was going to. Kinda freaked me out a little."

"Understandably, did he say why he took you?"

Sandburg shook his head. "No."

"Okay then, let's go with unknown reasons for now. After this is all sorted out, we'll sit down and go over it."

Blair nodded his head. The shaking had stopped and he noticed the younger man was barely able to hold his head up. Slowly, so as not to startle him, Jim leaned back and pulled Blair close with an arm across his shoulders, tucking him to his side. Blair sighed and leaned into the comfort offered. They sat quietly for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. Jim extended his hearing towards the sailboat. Everything there sounded under control. He released a big sigh.

"God, Chief. One of these days, we're going to have a normal vacation."

Blair's response was a soft snore.

"Sandburg, there is no way in hell you're going in without me, understand?!"

Blair rolled his eyes. "Fine, but I'm warning ya, man. Play nice. He's sick, okay?"

Choosing not to respond to his kind-hearted roommate, Ellison simply nodded as he led the way into the county psych unit. The court had considered Lanfers mental health history and ordered a complete evaluation before filing formal charges.

They signed in with the nurse in the lobby and followed a burly looking orderly through security gates to a small room furnished with a square table and chairs.

Robert Lanfers looked up expectantly as the pair entered.

"Hey, Robert. How are you doing?" Blair asked in a soft voice. He pulled the chair next to Robert back as if to sit.

Ellison moved quickly, restraining his friend with a hand on his arm and gently pulled him over to the far chair. Jim took the closer chair for himself.

Lanfers nodded his head, his eyes locked on Blair. Jim could almost see the hunger.

"Are your senses okay? Are you remembering your sails?"

The mute man chanced a nervous look at Ellison.

"Robert?" Blair urged, leaning across the table.

"Yeah, I still see the sails."

Blair smiled. "Good. You just keep practicing, okay? I'm going to be talking with your doctors. I have some research they need to look at. It's going to get better, man."

Robert studied the younger man intently. "You're coming back?"

Jim's posture stiffened, this was what the fight in the truck had been about. Lanfers didn't deserve Blair's help as far as he was concerned. But Sandburg was adamant. He had promised only to watch, but he couldn't resist.

"If he come back, he won't be alone," Jim warned with a low voice.

Lanfers held Ellison's gaze for a few seconds, then his eyes dropped to his hands.

"Subtle, Jim," Blair accused as they returned to the truck.

"You want to help, Sandburg." Jim unlocked the driver's door and hit the button to release Blair's. "But Lanfers only wants relief. He's not listening to you yet. Maybe he never will."

Blair settled into his seat and fastened his seat belt. "That's the only part I don't understand, Jim."

Starting the engine, Ellison twisted his upper body to the right to look for any traffic before backing out of the parking stall. He extended his right arm.

"What part is that?"

Throwing both hands out to illustrate his confusion, Blair rolled his eyes. "All that stuff he did, touching me. What is that all about, man?"

Jim gave his friend's neck an affectionate squeeze. The familiar warmth he felt whenever he touched his friend tingled up his arm and flowed into his mind with a feeling of serenity.

"Can't tell ya, Chief." Jim returned both hands to the wheel and drove. Maybe someday, I'll try and explain it.

The End

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