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  "How you doing, Sandburg? Still dizzy?" Jim's brow creased with concern. Had he let Blair slip into an unconscious state? It had taken him longer than he had expected to dig down enough with the crude shovel he'd made to bury Mike. He had debated on whether or not to bury the body or simply wrapping it in a tarpaulin until help arrived, but in the end he had decided the burial would be best for everyone concerned. There was no telling how long they could be there before rescued and he didn't want any wild animals to be attracted to the smell of blood, but mostly he didn't want Blair to have to deal with seeing the dead body every time he turned around. The kid was shaky enough, Jim didn't want him obsessing over Mike's death. Jim stared harder into his partner's eyes. He had fallen asleep but had seemed to wake fairly easy.

  Blair shook his head, "Not so much now," he said pushing himself to his feet, "You done?"

  Jim nodded as he helped him stand. "Yeah." He forced Blair to look at him, "If you start to feel dizzy, sick to your stomach or your head starts to hurting, you let me know. Immediately." he finished with emphasis.

  "Hey, man. Dizzy's a natural state for me. I'm operating on home ground here."

  Ellison gave him a stern glare. "Sandburg," he growled.

  Blair gave him an indulgent smile, "Sure thing, Dad."

  Jim felt his stomach muscles ease for the first time since regaining consciousness in the plane. If Blair was able to give him a smart-mouthed reply, he felt better about his condition. "Come on," he said, smiling as he gripped the young man's arm and steered him back to the plane, "let's see what we can salvage. It may be a while before Search and Rescue shows up."

  * * * *

  After they had managed to salvage everything usable from the passenger area of the plane, both men worked to clear out enough room inside the wreckage to make a fairly comfortable sleeping area. Jim had already checked and found the radio was smashed beyond repair. There was also no hope for the planes engine, but Jim had been reassured there was no danger of an explosion. At least they would have a fairly secure and dry place if they weren't picked up by nightfall.

  Jim stood outside the plane and looked at the sky once again. He had kept an eye to the northwest throughout the afternoon as a slightly heavier feeling had crept into the air. There was a front moving in, possibly another storm. It was only a question of time before the temperature began to drop. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised. It was the middle of September and parts of the mountains had already received snow. He glanced at Blair as the anthropologist still rummaged around toward the front of the plane. Jim hoped Search and Rescue arrived soon. Neither he nor Blair were dressed for cold weather.

  Jim looked at his watch, amazed it was still functioning. The plane was due to have landed an hour ago. Even if their final mayday calls had gone unheard Search and Rescue would be up by now. It was standard procedure. He was glad he had called Simon to meet them at the smaller airport before leaving Spokane. Even though it would make his captain worry, it was nice to know there would be someone among the team to make the search a little more personal.

  He rubbed at his stomach as a growl reminded him that it had been early morning since they had last eaten. When he and Blair had searched the wreckage they had found nothing edible. It looked as if they would get a little hungry before they were found.

  Jim stopped and smiled to himself. Then again, maybe not. Blair was always going on about what plants were edible, nutritious or medicinal. He'd get the anthropologist to scout up something edible. A smile made to his face as he anticipated Blair's enthusiasm at that task. He was eternally trying to get Jim to try what he called the more 'natural' foods available. This was a chance for the grad student to show off his knowledge of natural cuisine.

  A distant echo drew his attention as he focused his hearing and smiled once more. There was a stream not too far away. Maybe he could add a fish or two to Blair's contribution.

  A soft breeze whispered through the upper branches of the pines bringing the first faint traces of a chill. If they weren't found by nightfall, they'd need a fire for warmth. He sighed and turned away to begin gathering wood.

  * * * *

  Blair sat back on his heels as he continued to search the inside of the plane for any small items they may have missed that could prove useful to them. It was darker inside now since Jim had used parts of the metal from the craft's wing to cover the gaping hole in the side. At least they would have a warm place for the night if they needed it.

  He paused a moment and warily eyed the cockpit from beyond the wall. He had purposely avoided looking into the front of the plane, knowing he would still see the traces of blood that had been left behind. He shook himself. Now was not the time to freak out. He had to deal with their current situation. Sure the plane had crashed, but he and Jim were alive. That had to add up to some good karma from somewhere. Didn't it? He'd already let Jim do most of the heavy work, keeping his head conveniently turned away from the wreckage as Jim had dragged the man out of the plane...*alone*... and buried him....*alone*..., then had even managed to clean up most of the blood....*again alone*. Blair had to start pulling his weight. He couldn't let Jim keep carrying the responsibility for their survival by himself. This was a partnership and that meant shared responsibility. Now was a good time to start. He took a deep breath, pushed aside the lightheadedness that threatened to overcome him and crawled through the doorway to the cockpit.

  Blair held down the rising nausea he felt as he searched under both seats and what compartments he could find. His search turned up a few items; a flare gun, maps, a hunting knife and a variety of other items that should be helpful until their rescue. He began backing out of the cockpit with his collection when he spotted what looked like a metal thermos lodged up against the underside of the instrument panel. He stretched forward with anticipation. If it was a thermos and Ryan had filled it before they left, it might still have coffee in it. Maybe he and Jim could enjoy at least one cup of hot coffee.

  Even stretching as far as he could, his fingertips barely touched the cylinder. He backed up a little and braced his knee against the seat then pushed himself further forward until he was able to wrap his fingers around the narrowed neck and pull.

  The thermos came free and rolled toward him, but instead of the sloshing sound he had hoped for, it rattled. Curiously he snatched it up and removed the lid.

  Blair's mouth fell open as he emptied the contents into his hand. With his heart pounding he replaced the contents and scrambled out of the plane to find Jim.

  "Jim!" he called excitedly, looking around at the empty clearing. After a moment the cop reappeared, a look of concern on his face. "Jim! Look at this!" Blair said, running to meet him, eyes wide with excitement as he reopened the thermos and tipped it up to display a handful of gems for the detective. "Are these what I think they are?" he asked in wonder.

  Jim stared at his partner's outstretched hand for a moment. His thoughts darkened as recognition dawn on him, then nodded. "I'd say that's about ten million dollars worth of diamonds," he said shaking his head.

  Blair eyes grew impossibly larger. "Whoa!" he grinned at the thought of holding that amount of money in the palm of his hand then paused, looking at Jim with a frown curiously, "How'd you know the amount?"

  Jim sighed, "There was a break-in at a diamond exchange in Chicago a couple of weeks ago. Ten million dollars worth of diamonds disappeared," he motioned for Sandburg to place them back into the thermos, "These are probably them."

  "Oh, man.," Blair breathed in amazement, "Ten million dollars. Man, can you imagine how much research can be done on that kind of money?"

  Jim smiled at his partner. Trust Blair's first thoughts toward the money to be academic. His thoughts darkened and he frowned, staring at the sight of the plane wreckage as a realization struck home with him.

  The presence of the diamonds could only mean one thing. Mike Ryan and his shuttle route were being used to smuggle the stolen diamonds out of the country. The diamonds b
eing in the thermos in the cockpit pointed to Mike as being involved in the theft of the gems. Evidently, his old buddy had changed more than Jim had expected.

  Jim frowned as he considered the presence of the diamonds. This changed his and Blair's entire situation. There was no doubt that Ryan's cohorts wouldn't linger in Cascade once they realized the diamonds weren't going to show up. They would immediately begin back tracking and if they arrived here before Search and Rescue..... Jim let the thought trail off. The thieves involved in the diamond heist had already proven themselves to be ruthless. He had no doubt they would eliminate anyone else who stood in their way.

  "Jim?" Blair asked, the wistful smile from the imagined research money fading from his face, "What's wrong? What is it?"

  "Come on, Chief," he said physically turning Blair and ushering him back toward the plane, "We're getting out of here."

  Blair stopped and ducked out from under Jim's hands, "Why? What's wrong?" he asked with a frown.

  Jim expelled a patient breath, "If you were expecting a plane to land carrying ten million dollars worth of stolen diamonds and it didn't, what would you do?"

  Blair's face paled, "I'd go looking for it."

  Jim nodded, "And I don't think you'd want any witnesses left behind."

  Realization dawned on Blair, "They've already killed for these haven't they?" He stared at the container with a look of revulsion.

  Jim clinched his teeth, his eyes fixed on his partner, recalling the report he had read last week. As much as he would have liked to keep the more gruesome aspects of his job from the younger man, sometimes it was impossible. "Three people," he said, "A security guard at the exchange and two employees who happened to be dedicated enough to pick that night to work late."

  Blair stared at the thermos he held then shivered as he handed it to Jim, "I think you'd better hang on to these."

  Jim took the container as his partner turned away and returned to the plane. He understood the younger man's feelings.

  * * * *

  Simon leaned over a map of central Washington as the man beside him pointed to a section marked with a huge 'X'.

  "They've completed the search of this area." Paul Watkins told him, "Now they'll move here."

  The area he indicated was the Snoqualime National Forrest. Simon frowned in concentration. "This is where they lost contact?"

  Watkins nodded, "Just east of there. The mayday call was picked up briefly by a ham radio operator. He said they reported being approximately a hundred miles east of the field. Factoring in the possibility they may have been able to get a few more miles out of the plane, we figured they should have gone down in this vicinity. Search and Rescue began at the first call point. Now they'll move here."

  Simon studied the area on the map where Watkins was pointing. Ever since the air traffic controller had broken the news to him about the loss of contact with the plane, Simon had held on to the hope that Jim and Blair would come strolling into the airport with some simple excuse about the radio in the plane going out. But as time had dragged by and no word of their whereabout came to him, he had been forced to face reality. "What are their chances if they survived the crash?" he asked.

  "You tell me. You know them better than I do."

  Simon was thoughtful, "Ellison survived a crash in the jungles of Peru for eighteen months. If he's alive, he'll make it out."

  "What about Sandburg?"

  Simon smiled, "If Ellison survived, there's no way in hell he'd come out without the kid."

  That was something Simon was certain of. There was no way on God's green earth that Jim would come out of those mountains without Sandburg, or...he thought...Sandburg's body.

  "Captain Banks," Paul Watkins was solemn-faced. "What if your man Ellison didn't survive but his partner did? Would Sandburg be able to take care of himself until help arrived?"

  Simon thought it over carefully. He knew they teased Sandburg unmercifully about his seemingly lack of sense of direction but for all their talk Simon knew the kid had more than a little knowledge and experience in wilderness survival. Plus, Blair had a habit, or some had called it a knack, for getting himself out of difficult or dangerous situations. Regardless of what name was put to it, Sandburg was capable of taking care of himself. He had proved that on numerous occasions. "Yes. He could take care of himself."

  They were still studying the map when the door to the operations room opened and a middle-aged man in a dark business suit entered. Watkins looked up at the interruption, a touch of annoyance crossing his face. He didn't recognize the man and resented the stranger's entrance without knocking. Simon on the other hand, didn't recognize the man by name but knew from his demeanor what he was. His stomach tightened one more notch.

  "Gentlemen," the man said approaching the table separating them and extending his hand in greeting. "District Chief John Thompson. FBI."

  Watkins looked hesitantly from Simon to the agent. "What can I do for you?"

  "I apologize for the abrupt entrance but we're a little pushed for time."

  "Pushed for time on what?" Simon prompted. Watkins took a small step backwards, content to let the police captain and the FBI agent argue over jurisdiction if they needed to. His responsibility was to the downed plane and its pilot.

  Thompson pointed to the map still spread before them. "I understand you have Search and Rescue up already."

  Simon felt his stomach begin to churn. If the F.B.I. was interested in the plane carrying Jim and Blair, it could only spell trouble for the pair.

  * * * *

  "Which way are we going, Jim?" Blair asked a short time later, hefting his backpack to his shoulder.

  Ellison looked up from the map he was holding, to the not-to-distant mountain peaks. "If I'm right, that..." he pointed to the south, "should be Glacier Peak."

  Blair followed his line of sight, "Okay. What does that mean?"

  "It means we have a choice, hotshot. We can either continue west toward Silverton or head back east to the Chelan Lake. It's about the same distance either way."

  Blair studied the map from Jim's side, "Not much of a choice, is it?"

  Jim shook his head, "Not really," he paused to fold the map down to a smaller size, "but according to the map there should be an old logging road about fifteen miles west of here. If we can hit that, the travel should be fairly easy afterwards."

  "Where will it take us?"

  Jim ran a finger across the map following the road carefully, "Looks like it will take us by Pugh Mountain. After that we can either stay with the road or cut across country straight into Silverton," he folded the map and stuffed it into his pocket, "What do you say? Are you game to continue west?"

  Blair looked toward the west, "Well, if we go west, at least we'll be that much closer to home," he said after careful contemplation.

  "Okay. West it is,." Jim looked at Blair's backpack and then to the small shoulder bag they had scrounged from the plane that he carried. They had placed the thermos containing the diamonds in Blair's sturdier backpack. "Are you ready?"

  The younger man glanced around their surroundings to the opening of the downed aircraft, then nodded before looking up at his partner with worried eyes, "They're going to know we were here," he stated.

  Jim nodded, "Yeah. They will, but we've put down enough false trails leading out of here that it'll take them a while to figure out which way we went. We'll cover our tracks for a good long ways as best we can. It won't stop them but at least it will slow them down, maybe long enough for us to reach help ourselves."

  "What about Search and Rescue? It'll throw them off too."

  Jim shrugged. "Can't be helped. We'll have a better chance of getting out of this alive if we can slow down or avoid Mike's partners." He surveyed the clearing once more, "We've got a couple more hours of daylight, let's get as far away as we can."

  Blair nodded and followed Jim through the trees.

  * * * *

  Simon watched with a heavy heart as the thick fore
st of the Snoqualime National Forest passed beneath the helicopter.

  Two hours ago they had been notified that the wreckage of the plane had been located. The FBI agent had quickly arranged for transportation to the sight and had surprised Simon with an invitation for him to come along. Simon had not wasted any time in accepting. In his experience, it was unusual enough for the FBI not to block involvement by local authorities in any case they were investigating, let alone invite them along for the ride. Simon knew he would have found a way to the crash site regardless but was thankful the agent has seen fit to include him.

  District Chief John Thompson had turned out to be different from the FBI agents Simon had dealt with in the past. The man was obviously good at his work but he was also capable of accomplishing his assigned tasks without alienating the rest of the civilized world.

  Before they had left Glidden Field, the man had made apologies to Paul Watkins for his abrupt manner and during the entire time had treated Simon as an equal, not an outsider. That fact alone was unusual in Simon's experience with the FBI. He smiled to himself. He liked the agent and knew Jim would too.

  His smile saddened as he watched the forest become more and more dense. He found himself offering up a small prayer for the safety of his two friends, something, he reflected, he found himself doing often in the last year and a half. He shook his head in wonder. What couldn't Ellison and Sandburg get themselves into? Between serial killers, international hitmen, rogue CIA agents and the miscellaneous military intelligence branches that seemed to have cropped up over their association, it was a wonder either of them were still alive to worry about.

  Simon's smile faded as he remember there had been no word of survivors from Search and Rescue.

  From the moment they had left the small airfield in Cascade, Simon had felt a lead weight settle over him. What would he do if Jim and/or Blair were dead? He shook his head sadly. It just couldn't be. The idea of those two incredible lives being extinguished before their time was not a possibility. He had to hold on to the belief that they were still alive. He had to. He wished he had asked Taggart or Brown to come along; just in case, but knew as he voiced the thought to himself that it hadn't been a possibility. He had been fortunate to receive the invitation in the first place. There was no way he had been willing to risk the chance of getting to the crash site as soon as possible, but now, he was having second thoughts about not bringing one of his own men with him. If they arrived and found only bodies, he didn't know if he'd be able to handle the grief alone.