David Golemon - Primeval

Two hours later, after Jack had just about worn a path in the dirty carpet from the hotel room's large window and back again to the map, Sarah finally returned from the complex at Nellis. She hugged Jack and through the tenseness of his body, she could tell he was chomping at the bit to get moving.

Jack slowly pushed Sarah away when he saw that standing between her back and the front of Will Mendenhall was none other than Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III.

"Oh, no, this isn't for you, Doc, sorry," Jack said, eyeing Sarah and Mendenhall with a ferocious glare. "There's enough of us probably going to jail over this."

Charlie, replete with a bright orange hunting vest and green pants and shirt, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and stared at Jack, not moving. He shuffled from one foot to the other.

"It was Niles. He insisted Charlie join our band of outlaws," Sarah said, stepping around Collins, and rolling her eyes at Alexander and Farbeaux.

"Uh… Colonel, I think I need to be with you on this trip. To help you get your sister back."

"Colonel, the doc here may have something you need to hear," Mendenhall said, still standing outside of the room, looking almost as nervous as Charlie.

Collins just stared at Will. His eyes told the young lieutenant everything he needed to know.

"Or not," Mendenhall said looking away. "Uh, we brought some supplies and a little equipment… I'll go check on it." Will bounded away and then down the stairs without looking back. He had decided to let Sarah battle the colonel on behalf of Ellenshaw.

"Jack, I think you better listen to what Charlie has to say — he knows about the area we're looking for, he can find it and recognize the spot."

Collins finally gave in and stepped aside. "Alright, Doc, you have two minutes to convince me you're worth the weight we have to compensate for on the plane."

Hindershot smiled meekly and stepped into the room. He nodded at Punchy, who only stared at the crazed white-haired professor. Then Charlie saw Farbeaux and stopped dead in his tracks.

"That's right, Professor, strange circumstances call for strange bedfellows," Henri said with a nod of his head. "If I remember right, you're the monster man, correct?"

"I am a crypto zoologist, yes"

"I would have thought you would have had quite enough of your very strange profession down in the Amazon, Doctor," Farbeaux said as he stood and slapped the tall thin man on the back.

"Alright, you can tell your story on the way to the plane," Jack said as he gathered the maps that were pinned to the wall. "If it isn't a good one, you'll have to describe the area as best you can and then hitchhike back to Nellis and tell the director, thanks but no thanks. Am I clear on that, Doc?" Collins said as he quickly folded the maps and shot Ellenshaw another withering look.

"Yes, uh, yes, Colonel, very clear."

"Well, we few, we desperate few, we band of brothers," Henri looked at Sarah and smiled and half bowed, "and sister, shall we head north, and not stop until we fall off the edge of the world."

It was only Charlie that smiled as the others were already leaving. "Actually, I think we only fall off the map, Colonel Farbeaux."

Henri raised his right brow as he gestured for Ellenshaw to go out before him.

"That, my dear Professor Ellenshaw, is just the thing that scares me."

Everett and Ryan had been standing beside the seaplane for what seemed to them half the night and now they were only two hours away from dawn.

Everett would glance at his watch and then look up and around the steep incline that held the trickle of water at bay in the L.A. River. The chain-link fence surrounding the river was high, and stopped all but the racers and drug dealers from venturing into the basin. Carl was getting an old and reliable feeling at the back of his neck.

Ryan walked around the right wing float of the Grumman and bent over to check the main landing gear. The tire pressure on that side was low, but there was nothing he could do about it. He remained in his position and acted as if he were checking other areas of the large wheel.

"Captain, I have the feeling we are—"

"Being watched," Everett finished for him. "Stay where you're at for a minute; keep a low silhouette."

Up until this point in time, the large Grumman seaplane had only drawn casual lookers, and they had been lucky thus far that none of them had called the police to ask why there was an antique plane sitting under a bridge in the L.A. River. Everett thanked the heavens that everyone in L.A. kept to themselves: If it didn't affect them, it was none of their business. But now the naval captain was beginning to wonder if their luck had run out.

Against the streetlights from above the river, Everett finally spied the watchers: at least two men, but he knew there were more. He shook his head as he recognized the windbreakers favored by the FBI field offices. To them, he thought, that was plainclothes.

"We have feds to the left and probably more behind us," he said to Ryan. "Okay, Lieutenant, it's Acting 101 time. I want you to laugh and then go around to the stairs and climb inside; I'll walk to the tail section. When you hear the word, fire this damn thing up."

"Okay, but what about the colonel. Shouldn't we—"

"Gentlemen, this is the FBI. Please stand clear of the aircraft."

Everett closed his eyes, knowing he had been snuck up on from behind.

Two agents came from the dark at the back of the plane. They had weapons drawn and pointed at both he and Ryan. He felt one of the agents remove his Berretta nine-millimeter from the back of his waistband. The other waited for Ryan to straighten up before attempting to take his.

"Your record is indicative of a good sailor, Captain Everett, I would expect you to come quietly. Then we'll take Colonel Collins and the rest when they arrive."

"Look, you know what we're doing; why don't you just turn around and leave," Everett said as he felt the agent's hand checking him for other weapons.

"We're following orders, Captain. If we could let you go, we would. The president says you'll be stepping on a lot of toes, so for now you have to step aside and let our office and the Canadian authorities handle this."

"My friend, since you've read my file, you surely must have read about the man that is in charge here. Do you think this situation will stand?" Carl asked as he finally turned and saw for the first time that the FBI agent was young, possibly too young.

"Our bosses don't like sending us out blind, Captain. We know enough about Colonel Collins that this entire basin is surrounded by fifteen other agents.

Everett looked around. He saw passing headlights on the old bridges in front of them and in back. The one they were under was quiet for the moment, and he suspected there was at least one team of agents up there.

Ryan came out from under the undercarriage with his hands up. He shrugged his shoulders in the false light of the streetlamps above them. "Captain, it's your duty to tell these guys; if you won't, I will."

The agent holding Everett at arm's length looked at Ryan over the large SEAL's shoulders, but refrained from asking what Ryan was talking about.

"Tell us what?" asked the second agent leading Ryan to the front of the plane.

"Listen," Everett said, lowering his hands, and then raising his brows as if to ask if it was alright. The agent nodded but stepped as far back as he could to keep out of range of Carl's long legs and arms. "I'm a nice guy, hell, I know you're only doing your jobs; even Ryan there has his moments of clarity, but the man we work for, he's, well, how do I put this?"

"A prick when mad," Ryan finished for him.