Claim It! Pt. 02

"Then you wal-" started Don, heatedly, before Pete hastily cut him off.

"Don! Listen! Don't say it. These people are trying to help you, but only if they can do it their way." Pete had raised his voice to keep Don from interrupting. "There is a lot more going on than you think, Don. It's not just about Donna. Listen to what else they have to say before you make a irreversible decision. Don, don't be a fuck up."

Don felt his anger rise even higher at Pete's plea, but managed to quell it before it reached his tongue.

Don nodded, simply saying, "Okay, Pete." as he eyed Hughes critically.

Relief evident on his face, Pete told Hughes to continue with the rest of the report.

"Mendoza, you're up." barked Hughes without taking his eyes off Hudson. 'This one is going to be trouble', thought Hughes. 'We'll have to keep a close eye on him to be sure he doesn't fuck anything up.'

In his reserved manner and heavy southern drawl, Mendoza looked at Hughes a moment before turning to face Don.

"The two vehicles that have followed you, Mister Hudson, are unregistered. The plates are stolen and although they match the make and model of the vehicles they're on, they're definitely not the vehicles the plates were originally issued to. Also, the drivers aren't the same two men who entered the house. We identified the drivers, but they're no more than low-level private investigators hired to follow you. There are no other vehicles involved in following you. Just those two."

"Based on what is presently known, we have surmised the reason they're following you is two reasons. One, to receive whatever you say in or near your truck. Two, to intercept and nab you, at a moment's notice." finished Mendoza quietly.

Disquieted by what he had just heard, Don stepped back to lean against a nearby cavern wall as everyone eyed him.

"How the fuck do you all know this? How are you all so sure?" asked a disbelieving Don.

Mendoza stepped back, clearly differing to the large man, Hughes, to explain.

"Mister Hudson, we use many methods. Some are NSA level. I won't disclose the specifics of our secrets, but we wouldn't declare any data as solid unless we had first corroborated it via other means. Rest assured, what Mendoza has stated is indeed fact. You will be taken against your will. We just don't know when. Yet.""

Don glanced over at Pete, but his friend and business partner was looking down.

"Seriously? Just like that, they'll grab me?" asked a shaken Don. "Why? What do I have to do with Donna's inheritance that someone would kidnap me?"

Hughes spoke up, "Many reasons, Mister Hudson. In this case, we think that taking you temporarily out of the picture will insure whatever is in the works will be completed without a hitch. We don't think they mean to harm or kill you. Only to stop you from interfering with their plan."

"How can I interfere? I don't know what the fuck is going on?!" shouted Don in frustration and worry.

"Easy, sir." said Hughes. In a softer voice, reducing his harshness to a whisper of its former roughness, Hughes further said, "The visit with your wife's friend, Michelle Lambry, might have given- whomever is in charge- a cause for concern. They might have had bugs in her place too, and heard what was discussed." Seeing Don's look of surprise, Hughes explained.

"Santos told us everything you told him. We checked Miss Lambrey's... Michelle's place, as well. We didn't locate any bugs, but they might have already removed them before we arrived. We have to operate as if they know you know something, even if you don't. We do have an idea of what is going to go down, but until we can gather more intelligence we are largely operating in the dark."

It was almost too much for Don. He never expected to be involved in such cloak and dagger. It was a side of reality that, although, he'd heard about, it had never experienced until now. So far, he really hated what he was going through.

With a sigh of resignation, if not outright acceptance, as to his circumstances, Don asked in a tired voice, "When will you know more?"

"That's difficult to say. Opportunities arise in a fickle manner, but based on past missions, I'd say about one more week and we should have a better idea of what is going on." replied Hughes. "As to when we'll have a complete picture, again..." said Hughes with another one of his mountain shaking shrugs.

"But, Mister Hudson, although your objections have been noted, we will continue operating as I've already explained. If that's still a problem then we stop at this point. What'll it be?"

Shaking his head, Don looked at Pete, who nodded approval in return.

"I guess I have no choice, Mister Hughes. I'll have to deal with it, whether I like it or not."

Nodding acknowledgment of Don's disgruntlement, Hughes replied, "We'll inform Santos as the information comes in. Mister Hudson, continue with your activity as you have been- feigning ignorance. Rhodes will return you both to the entry point. Good night, Mister Hudson." With that, the light on the table went out as Mendoza flipped the off switch.

~N~

Monday morning dawned cloudy and bitterly cold. For Mendoza and Rhodes, the climate was just another factor to take into account. Something they'd been doing for a number of years. Not that they didn't feel the frigid cold, for they did, it's simply that they didn't allow it to interfere with their mission. Presently, part of that mission was monitoring any incoming and outgoing transmissions at the house the two men, Miner and Lewis, used as a base. The van the team had procured for the mission was parked two streets over from Hudson's house, but the engine was off and the small heater that sat atop the roof of the van barely kept the temperature above the freezing point.

The men had left several times over the last few days, and no one else had entered the ordinarily empty house. That particular bit of information didn't imply there weren't others in the house, in fact, the team operated under the assumption that there were other personnel in the house.

"Do we have a signal?" inquired Mendoza of Rhodes.

"Yes. The signal strength is weak but steady. We're recording." replied Rhodes as she adjusted the tuner on the electronic/magnetic signal monitoring equipment, through the laptop's software.

"Is there anything being broadcast in the open?" asked Mendoza, innocently. A derisive snort was his only reply. "I had to ask." returned Mendoza.

"How much longer until we get a point of reception?"

"Maybe around the same time you get lucky with 'No Way in Hell' Elana." quipped Rhodes, deadpan.

"Oh, then we should have something real soon." retorted Mendoza, with a slight chuckle.

Rhodes rolled her eyes briefly as she sat, carefully watching the laptop's screen.

There was a peculiar sound outside just the van, an unexpected sound that had Mendoza meta-morphing from a languid idleness to a blur of violent motion, with his empty hands suddenly sprouting a H&K MP7. Rhodes rolled out of the chair, dropping to the floor, in one smooth motion, while she drew a S&W 500. Both weapons were silenced as well as they could be. From a nearby cabinet, both operatives removed then donned protective eye wear and breathing gear.

They took a glance at each other, their looks passed across with many questions and answers. Their course of action thus decided, they acted. With long practice and hard won experience they moved as the professional team they were. The strange sound heard might have been caused by an innocent event, but the team had had too many close calls to take anything for granted.

On the floor of the van they crept noiselessly forward, toward the doors. The door windows were up, but heavily fogged, as was the windshield. There were no other windows in the van. Between the two seats, mounted in the floor, behind the engine cowl, was a small hatch. Egress to the outside could be accomplished without being easily seen. By silent consent, Mendoza would use the exit to reconnoiter the immediate area around the van, while Rhodes would provide a defensive position in case anyone tried to enter through the windows.

No sooner had Mendoza lowered most of his body, when he spasmed and lay still. Rhodes had heard a couple of barely audible 'meaty thunks' right before Mendoza stopped moving. Rhodes couldn't tell if Mendoza was severely wounded or dead, and she couldn't take time to discover the difference. Rhodes used her throat mike to sub-vocalize a message to Hughes.

"Under attack. Unknown enemy. Mike Mike is down. Romeo Romeo pinned in van."

She didn't get a reply, but she didn't expect one. She didn't expect rescue, either. Rhodes' only intent was to inform her superior of the situation. She expected to die. Not that she wanted to die, but she knew the score. What she could do and intended to do, was to take out the assholes that had shot Mendoza. For that, she was ready.

A shadow quickly crossed the driver's side window, but moved off before Rhodes could react. A second later, the passenger side window shattered and a jacketed arm quickly snaked in to release the lock, and just as quickly removed itself. Rhodes took quick aim, just short of the metal door frame and slightly lower, and pulled the trigger. The heavy fifty-caliber round tore through the van's sheet metal side like it were tissue paper, leaving a long gouge before exiting the van.

Rhodes heard a brief grunt and the sound of a falling body hitting pavement.

A short curse sounded just outside the driver's side of the van. Then Rhodes heard the familiar sound of a weapon being cocked, and immediately lay flat upon the floor of the van, facing the left side of the van. It was no protection, it only offered the chance that the shooter would begin shooting high before bringing his weapon to cover the lower part of the van. If so, Rhodes would get a chance to center a shot based on the pattern and location of the rounds poking holes in the side of the van. If she were lucky, she'd kill the shooter, if not, she at least hoped to wound them. She didn't expect to live, but she was going to give it her best to make sure she didn't go alone.

As expected, but still suddenly, the shooting began. Surprisingly, the weapon the shooter was using was not silenced. Interesting, thought Rhodes, even as the bullets flew to the side and just above her head. With a practiced air, Rhodes quickly analyzed the probable location of the shooter and took careful aim. Just as she squeezed the trigger one of the shooter's rounds caught her in the shoulder. It hit bone, which knocked her back against the small chair at the monitoring console, however, even as the darkness closed in, she managed to aim and fire one last round.

~N~

The man had just sat down at his wood desk in his home study, when his throw away phone rang. The desk's oak and mahogany sheen was something the man truly enjoyed, it was one of the few secret pleasures he allowed himself. Also, the desk was something he had worked hard and long to acquire. The acquisition of the desk was a huge victory in itself, but it was still but one victory of many yet to come. The ringing of the phone heralded another victory, adding to the man's sense of conquest, as those on the other end of the ringing phone, worked to insure each and every win.

He answered the phone but didn't speak. The man never spoke over this phone.

"We have two dead. We are compromised. The mission is a scrub. No further contact will be initiated." said the cold artificial voice. Yet, through the emotionless tones, the man thought he detected anguish. The connection terminated.

The man lowered the phone mindlessly, his thoughts a jumble of incoherency, his dreamed of conquests, now, just pieces of a crumbling reality.

~N~

Pete had phoned Don to join him at his job site, using difficult job issues as an excuse. Don should be arriving shortly.

Since Don's and Pete's meeting with the team that was helping Don, their relationship had grown distant and somewhat strained. Pete didn't blame Don for wanting to have a hands on role, but Hughes had made it clear from the beginning how it was going to be. They both assumed Don would go along with the plan. With a sigh, Pete stretched his arms over his head, while curving his back. He heard the accustomed sound of popping of his vertebrae and relaxed.

Now, Pete had to mend the broken fence that was his and Don's relationship. To restore the friendship that they'd had for so long. Pete just didn't know what he would say to start fixing things. He wasn't sure there was anything that could be said that would allow the two of them to regain what had been lost. But, he had to try, hence the impromptu meeting with Don.

Pete was lost in these thoughts when his cell phone rang. Without giving it much thought, Pete answered, thinking it was Don calling to tell him he was delayed. But, it wasn't Don's voice who spoke.

"We have a problem. Bring Hudson and yourself to the previous location. Wait until you're signaled."

Pete heard Hughes' voice, but the message hadn't yet penetrated his brain, because of the surprise that had filled his mind upon hearing Hughes. Hughes had never contacted him directly before, contact had always been through a mutually trusted third party. 'Something bad has gone down,' thought Pete. 'It must have for Hughes to break well established procedure.' That put Pete on a hair trigger alert.

After Don arrived and they were on the road, Pete reiterated what Hughes had told him. The two men rode in silence, each immersed in his own thoughts. They did the vehicle exchange as before and drove to the previous meeting location. Pete parked in much the same spot as before and they sat to wait for the signal.

"Don, what happened here last Friday, between us- What Hughes wanted, it wasn't something that I planned. That's just the way he is. He's very protective of his team." Stopping to allow Don to say something, when it was apparent Don preferred to remain silent he continued a moment later. "You really need his help. He's the best with this sort of business. Even if you dislike how he's tried to do it, don't allow that to blind you to the necessity of keeping Hughes working on your behalf. You really need him in your corner. Even if it means hating me for it."

The silence stretched out into several seconds until Don sighed in the darkness of the car's front seats.

"I don't hate you, Pete. I don't hate anyone. I just want my life to be normal. You know? This...This stuff that is happening to me. To Donna. To everyone that has been dragged in to it, it's not my life. It's not a life that I want, either. I want Donna back, but I think that's not going to happen. She's been gone for two weeks. It seems like an eternity. More importantly, even if she returns and I take her back, nothing will be the same. It won't ever be like it was. I don't know if I can deal with that drastic a change. I just don't know."

Pete had heard the pain and doubt in Don's voice as he spoke.

"I know, amigo. Believe me, I know. But, you won't know what kind of life you could have with Donna until you try. It might be something you won't like, but it might be something way better than what you had before. You gotta try before you can find out."

Don was about to retort when he and Pete saw the dim red light.

The same method of greeting and leading them to the cavern welcomed them on entering the shack. However, the voice that spoke was not Hughes and the person that guided Don was not Rhodes.

However, before they entered the cavern, they saw the light shining out of the cavern's main entrance. Which doesn't bode well, said Pete to himself.

Hughes sat at the same small table, and the same lamp now hung from a metal stand near the table. The stand was a new addition, as was the long wooden bench set against the cavern wall. Hughes' face was a study in stone. His eyes looked both dead and deadly. Even Don, who didn't know the man, sensed something was terribly wrong.

"Sit. Both of you" commanded Hughes in a voice filled with promise of pain and death. He pointed at the bench, motioning with his hand for them to sit.

Both men walked over to the bench and sat, without offering protest or indignation at their treatment. They both knew something bad had occurred. How it involved them, and they felt that it did involve them, remained to be seen.

Hughes stood, his height and size seemed larger than the last time Don had seen him, in fact, Hughes looked down right menacing.

"I want to know which one of you sorry ass-fucks sang like a goddamn parrot?" growled Hughes.

Pete stared at Hughes, trying to understand what he meant with his question. "I don't know what you are asking, Gerald. If you quit fucking around and spit it out then I might be able to answer" replied Pete, calmly, if a bit cool.

Don stared at Hughes then at Pete, as much at a loss as Pete, at Hughes question. Upon hearing the name Gerald, Don wondered if Pete was trying to egg Hughes on.

Eyes closed to near slits, Hughes glared at the two men. "Are you going to tell me you don't know?" demanded Gerald Hughes.

Pete's eyes never wavered, never blinked as he returned Hughes' stare with a searching one. "What happened, LT?" asked Pete softly.

"You really don't- I mean- Oh, fuck it!" exclaimed Hughes in frustration. "Mendoza and Rhodes got hit."

A low hiss passed between Pete's teeth. "How bad?"

Hughes rubbed a monstrous hand over his equally large face. "Mendoza is gone. Rhodes- She might live, but she's so messed up- she might not be back."

At the mention of Rhodes' possible future, Don felt a pang of sadness. He certainly didn't wish ill upon Mendoza, but he didn't know the man, and any feeling he had for him was purely out of respect. With Rhodes, for some reason, Don had a different feeling, one that had yet to be defined. He didn't know Rhodes any better than he had known Mendoza, still, something pulled at his heart strings. That both bothered Don and exhilarated him. Which left him in a confused mental state.

Pete, stood and began to pace. "I'm sorry, Gerald. You have my condolences. I know how much your team is like family to you." Pete stopped pacing and approached Hughes. Looking him in the eye, Pete averred, "I didn't breath a word to anyone."

Hughes stared at Pete a moment, before relaxing his stance. "How about him?" Indicating Don with his chin.

"Don! Come here." ordered Pete.

Don stood and warily walked over to the two men.

"Yeah?"

Pete pursued his lips before asking Don, "Did you mention Hughes' plan to anyone? Or did you mention the presence of Hughes and his team?"

"What? Shit no! Why would I? Who do I have to tell anyway? Besides you?" exclaimed a baffled Don to Pete.

Hughes and Pete exchanged a meaningful glance. "Don, did you happen to say anything, maybe under your breath, while you were in the truck or in your house?" asked Hughes in his usual gruff voice.

"About you and the plan? Fuck no! As it was, I spent most of the weekend on several job sites, doing punch lists. Meaning, the only thing I spoke about was work. Why? You think the people who attacked Mendoza and Rhodes got something from me?" asked Don, his voice getting loud.

"Easy, there, boss man. Hughes is just trying to narrow the possibilities." explained Pete, in an attempt to calm his partner.

"Fuck that!" said Hughes. "I suspect everyone! No one's innocent! I will find out who pulled off the shit and when I'm done with them- They'll wish their parents had never met."

"Okay, man. I hear you, but why didn't you just ask, instead of going all Gestapo on us?" asked Pete of Hughes.

"Gestapo?! I ain't yet begun to go ape shit!" roared Hughes. "Someone killed one of my team and nearly did the same to another. I'm going to do whatever it takes to discover who was behind the hit, and then you'll see all sorts of shit come out of me."