Billy McGregor strode into the offices occupied by Cascade's international airport security. It had been a long week or more of being bedridden with a mysterious "flu". His family doctor and three specialists could find no other reason for his sudden collapse at work. His "flu" had nearly killed him and would have if it hadn't been for two quick thinking travellers trained in CPR. One minute he had been walking into the airport's departures level and the next he had dropped like a stone. He had woken up two days later in a hospital bed, feeling incredibly weak and confused.

"Hey, Billy!" Dom Cantelmi's gravelly voice boomed from behind him. McGregor cringed and waited for the hearty slap on the back that he knew he would be getting. Dom treated all of his men as if they were his sons. Billy just wished he expressed that feeling with a little less gusto. He was sure he was going to be able to see the imprint of Dom's hand on his back for the rest of the day.

"Hi boss, ya miss me while I was off?" Checking his watch, McGregor's face broke into a smile. "You're in extra early. It's only 6:30. Are you my welcome back committee?"

Cantelmi leaned against the doorjamb and gave the younger man a wink. "You betcha. I just want to make sure you're fit for duty." The security chief's grin became a thin-lipped frown. "Seriously, Billy, you sure you should be back so soon? How ya feelin' kid?"

McGregor took a clipboard down from a hook. "I'm good, Dom. My doctor gave me a clean bill of health and the hospital turned me loose without a second thought. I got tired of staying home." He scanned the top page on the clipboard and paled. Eyes wide, he looked up at Cantelmi and swore under his breath. "Son of a..."

Moving to look over Billy's shoulder he saw the name Nyajiru. "You know something about this?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "You got a phone number for these cops here, Ellison and Sandburg?"

Two bleary and red-rimmed eyes cracked open to glare at the alarm clock. Even the soft pulse it emitted was too much for the headache that had settled just behind the sentinel's eyes. With a grunt he got out of bed and grabbed a robe. Another day, another headache. Or that's how it seemed that particular morning. Bathroom, coffee, get dressed, go to work. Repeating it to himself twice, he thought maybe he could actually accomplish that much. He couldn't even begin to think what came after that. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he spotted his already dressed and "ready to hit the road" partner leaning up against the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. His sensitive nose and rolling stomach told him that it was something disgustingly healthy.

"Morning, Sandburg, you're up early."

"Couldn't sleep." Blair set the bowl down on the counter behind him and followed his partner to the bathroom.

"Uh Chief, I think I can handle this on my own." Jim hadn't realized his friend was behind him until he had almost closed the door on him.

"You look like hell, you know that." The younger man's mouth was set in a disapproving frown. "You're still suffering from last night. I thought you said you were feeling all right."

"Last night I was," Ellison replied, rubbing at a temple. "This morning I feel hungover. We didn't go out drinking, did we?"

"Well, I know I didn't. I can't speak for you though." Blair chuckled and pushed Jim into the bathroom. "Enjoy your shower. You want coffee this morning?"

"Oh yeah," Jim sighed as he closed the door. "And the way I feel, I'll take it intravenously. Mommy, can you write me a sick note and tell the teacher I'm not going to school today?" He heard his friend's "you're pathetic, Ellison" through the rush of the shower. Seeing that his friend was in a better frame of mind than the previous evening, the sentinel let some of his worry flow away with the cascading hot water. He knew he had to explain to Sandburg that it was his voice that he had latched onto for dear life. Not Brooks'.

Pulling a bottle of spring water from the fridge, Blair set about making a pot of coffee. He was sure he could use a good strong cup of it himself. Sleeping had been out of the question and now he was paying for it. He had stayed awake all night, listening for his partner to have another attack like the one at the shaman's home. That one had been like none of the others and Jim's not being able to pull himself out of it still made him uneasy. If Brooks hadn't been there, hadn't known what to do... Listening to hear if the water was still running in the shower, Blair took a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket and went to the phone.

A sleepy voice answered after five rings. "Hello, Mr. Brooks... Graham. This is Blair Sandburg. I'm sorry about calling so early, but I think I need to talk to you. About what you offered yesterday. Could I come by later this morning?" A pleased sigh escaped him when he received the answer and he quickly jotted down the time. "Thank you," he said enthusiastically. "I'll see you then."

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor on its way up seven flights to Major Crime. The doors opened with a hush to admit Simon Banks. His eyebrows rose and his face lit into a smile when he saw the other two occupants.

"Jim, Blair, good morning, gentlemen." He then did a double take and looked more closely at his senior detective. "Well, let me rephrase that. It doesn't look like it's such a good morning for you, Ellison. Sick or hungover?" The question wasn't a serious one. He had never seen the man come into work less than fit for any reason other than being sick and stubbornly refusing to stay at home.

"He was out carousing last night, sir," Blair joked. "He didn't get home until just this morning. He'll try to tell you otherwise, of course."

The doors opened on the seventh floor and Jim beat a hasty retreat to the men's room to lose his breakfast.

Blair started to follow him, but Simon grabbed his arm. "Sandburg?"

"I'm not really sure, Captain," the young detective explained. "Last night we went to see that herbs expert you recommended. Jim had an extreme reaction to something when we were there and his senses went wild. But it's been like nothing in the past. This has stayed with him, making him sick. He insists it's nothing major, just like being hungover." Sandburg's brows furrowed as he kept watch for his friend's return. "All I can do is keep an eye on him, but it might be a good idea if he stayed close to the station today until whatever's wrong works itself out."

Banks put his hands on his hips and stared down at Sandburg. "What do you mean 'whatever's wrong'? You mean you don't know?" He was honestly surprised to hear the man admit it. It wasn't something Blair was ever ready to admit to without following it with numerous theories about what it could be and what they would do to combat it.

Sandburg just shook his head. "Not this time, sir. This is a new one." He let out a pent up breath when he saw his friend emerge from the men's room. "You okay, big guy?"

"Yeah," Jim lied. "You two have fun talking about me while I was gone?" He smiled to let them know he was joking.

"We always do," Simon countered. "Oh, Sandburg. I almost forgot. You have a visitor. He's waiting at your desk." He saw the younger detective start to ask a question and jumped in. "I don't know who he is. I didn't get his name. He didn't give me a chance, really. Friendly, eccentric, tall..."

"Intelligent, wise beyond his many years and a general all round nice guy." The amused voice came from the direction of the door to the bullpen, making all three men turn.

Blair's face broke into a wide smile and he went to the man to give him a hug, receiving an equally enthusiastic one in return. "Paul!" Taking a step back, he quickly introduced him to Jim and Simon. "What are you doing here? Didn't I just talk to you yesterday? In Arizona? I thought you were working at the Dineh College for a while."

"I'm here to see you. You did and I was and I am." Holden put a hand on Blair's shoulder and began to steer him into Major Crime. "I needed some materials on two tribes from this area and thought I would come and pick them up instead of sending for them. This gives me a chance to visit with you and deliver that information you asked for. And what else are those air miles for if not to take a spur of the moment trip?" Holden looked back to wink at Simon Banks who had started for his office. "Besides, I have to do something to keep up my reputation of being an eccentric."

"That's great, Paul, and it's always good to see you, but a phone call would have been okay, too." Blair pulled a second chair up to his desk. "Mom's been talking about heading down to Oregon in August to visit with you and Summer. I was thinking I might tag along for a day or two."

"And I'm going to hold you to it, Blair. It'd be great to get the family together again." The linguist smiled and leaned forward to tousle the younger man's hair. "Why don't you come with him, Detective Ellison? Blair tells me that you like to fish almost as much as I do. You won't find any better salmon or sturgeon fishing than on the Columbia."

"Thanks, I'll certainly consider it." Jim slowly sat at his desk, trying to remember when his head had become so heavy and his neck so rubbery. It was going to be a long day. "You said that you found the meaning or translation of nyoka?"

"I did. I would have found it sooner but I got hung up on it being Yoruba. You know what I'm like, Blair. Get to thinking one way and it takes divine intervention to get me to think another." Holden chuckled to himself as he flipped through a dog-eared notebook.

"And what sort of divine intervention would that be, Dr. Holden?" Ellison was mildly curious.

Holden looked up and in complete seriousness said, "Star Trek."

"Star Trek?"

"Exactly. I was watching Star Trek last night, the original series, and I was wondering how Uhura kept that damn thing in her ear. And then it hit me."

The sentinel was confused. "You figured out how she kept it in her ear? I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Careful, Jim." Blair gave his partner an affectionate smile. "The Holden Zone is way scarier than the Sandburg Zone."

Laughing, Paul began his explanation. "No, no. Uhura was a Bantu. She spoke Swahili. The word is Swahili, of course."

Sandburg motioned for the man to continue. "And it means what?"

"It's the name of a snake. An adder." Holden looked deflated. His revelation wasn't met with any enthusiasm. "Why do I get the impression that you two already knew this?"

"We had an idea that the word must have referred to a snake," Blair offered. "It may help us to know that it's a specific snake somewhere down the road. To be honest, I don't know what we were hoping to learn. It was just one piece of the puzzle we didn't have."

"I see." The older man stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. "Well, not really, but this is something you'll have to tell me about when you visit in August." Slapping his knees, he pushed himself upright. "I have to get to the museum to pick up those documents and then catch the next plane out." Scooping up the coat he had flung across the back of Blair's chair, he once again ruffled his friend's hair. "I'll expect to see you in August, young man." He turned to Jim and pointed a finger. "And you as well." He exited Major Crime with a flourish and raced to the elevator doors that were just closing.

The sentinel noted the happy grin on his partner's face and silently thanked Holden for being the eccentric he was. His impromptu visit had definitely lifted Blair's spirits. "Nice guy, Chief."

"Yeah," Blair smiled. "He is. I wish he could have stayed a little longer, but that's Paul." His smile faded and he turned his chair to face Ellison. "I got a little sidetracked. How are you feeling? Any better? You still look like you could use some time off."

"And I'll take it if I'm still feeling sick this afternoon."

"Good to hear you talking sense for a change, James." Blair considered his partner for a few seconds longer as if debating about what he was going to say next. "How about lending me your truck for an hour?"

Jim's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Sandburg was asking to borrow his truck? "My truck?! What makes you think I'd hand over the keys to my truck?"

"Guilt."

"Guilt?"

"Guilt. You see I used to have this great little car. You might remember it. A Volvo. A classic. A gem of the automotive industry." Blair sighed dramatically and clutched his hands to his chest. "It used to take me anywhere I wanted to go. It was a great little car." He added another sigh for good measure.

With a scowl, Ellison dug his keys out of his pocket. "All right, all right. Here." He tossed them to his partner. "May I ask where you're going to be taking my truck?"

"To see Graham Brooks. He called to say he had some information for us."

Jim looked at his partner suspiciously. "I didn't hear any call. Besides, I think if it has to do with the case we should both go."

"No way." Sandburg was firm. "I don't want you going anywhere near that house until we figure out what set you off last night." Blair folded his arms across his chest in a "don't argue with me" pose. "And he called early this morning. I picked up my voicemail while you were in the shower. He said he could see us around 10:30. I told him it would be just me."

Are you lying to me? Your respiration is up, Chief. And is that a slight rise in your heartbeat? "Fine, but be back here in an hour or I'll be showing up at Brooks' door to collect my truck." He listened to the sound of Blair's retreating footsteps, hearing them pause at the elevator. The soft ping of the car arriving was followed by the whisper of the doors opening and closing and slightly muting the beating of his partner's heart as he travelled to the garage. You've got an hour, Chief. Reaching for the phone, he punched in four numbers. "Serena? It's Jim. You busy right now? I've got a favour to ask."

The two-tone Ford pulled up to the curb on Ravenscliffe, its engine quietly shutting down with a soft purr. Sitting behind the wheel, Blair glanced at the empty passenger seat. It felt so strange to be in the truck without his partner. On the few occasions that Jim did entrust him with the keys to his baby, the detective was always right there beside him. Drawing in a deep breath, he looked at the large, white house that stood at the top of the landscaped lawn and flowerbeds. In the bright light of morning it didn't seem as inviting as it had the previous evening. He knew that his opinion was being coloured by what had happened in that house and that he had lied to his friend about the true reason for his being there that morning. Brooks would probably have the information they needed, allowing him some legitimacy. At least he could return to the station with that in hand. He hoped.

"Well, sitting here isn't getting you anywhere, Sandburg." Pulling the handle open, he slowly got out of the truck. The apprehension he had felt when he first met with Nyajiru was nothing compared to this. There had been a warmth, a power, about the old man from the first moment he had talked with him. Brooks emanated power as well, but it felt cold and hard. But the shaman had offered him help and a way to understanding the things he needed to learn to help Jim. He wouldn't turn away from that. He that increaseth knowledge increases sorrow. Blair stopped half way up the walk. Where had that come from? Chiding himself, he set his shoulders and continued to the front door. He could review Old Testament wisdoms some other time.

"Make a fist, Jim." Serena Chang gazed up into Jim Ellison's pale blue eyes. Pale blue 'blood- shot' eyes. "You're sure a blood test is necessary?" She quickly checked the small vile that was filling. "I'll admit that you're looking a little rough this morning, but still..." Untying the elastic band with a flick of her wrist, she removed the needle. "All done."

Jim put a finger down on the cotton ball that had been placed over the injection mark and waited for Chang to get a bandage. "Thanks, Serena." He smiled at her when she had finished applying the bandage and rolled up the other sleeve of his shirt. "Now could you take a look at this?" Twisting his arm around, he pointed to a spot on the underside of his biceps. "It feels really tender, like it's been bruised. What do you think?"

"I think this is getting a little weird, Ellison, but considering that mark we found on Nyajiru I guess I had better take a good look at it," she sighed and grabbed a magnifying glass to peer under his arm. "Okaaaay, it does look like something. Maybe the sting of an insect? Hang on a minute." Reaching behind her, she picked up a pair of tweezers and a small plastic container. "I just want to get a skin sample."

"I wondered if it might be an insect bite. I think I had an allergic reaction to something last night and I was in a sort of indoor jungle." Jim smoothed out his sleeve and buttoned the cuff. "Any idea when you'll have some results?"

Biting the inside of her cheek, Chang scanned a chart. "I have a couple of bodies stacked up back there that have a.s.a.p. on them. Later on this afternoon or first thing tomorrow is about the best I can do. I'll push it for you, Jim, I promise, but if I don't get the findings on those other two to Homicide they're going to have my head."

"As soon as you can, Serena, that's good enough." Ellison stopped before opening the door. "Can we keep this to ourselves until we know something? I'm gonna feel really stupid if it turns out to be nothing."

"Mum's the word, detective." Chang gave him a wink and then disappeared into the lab.

Graham Brooks leaned forward in his chair and reached for the teapot. "It's Earl Grey, Detective. I hope you don't mind tea, but I never drink coffee during the day. I find that tea allows me to stay more calm."

Taking the cup, Blair breathed in the lemony aroma of the bergamot. The steam tickled his nose as he held the tea to his lips to take the first tentative sip. "It's fine. Thank you." Gently placing the fragile cup back on the saucer, he tried to think of the best way to broach the subject of his visit. Brooks had obviously had some intuition concerning Jim's attack from the evening before. Or perhaps he had read about the now infamous dissertation in the newspaper. Whatever the reason, he had guessed about Blair's quest to become a shaman. Or so Blair hoped. If he hadn't, his request was going to sound very strange.

"Sometimes the best way to ask a question is to just ask, Blair." Brooks placed his own cup back on the table and gazed intently at Sandburg. "What is it that you need?"

"Last night you said that I needed direction and that you thought that I was playing at something." Blair levelled his own intense gaze at the shaman. "What did you mean?"

"You are a very wise man to be cautious," Brooks began. "You have done well to protect your sentinel." He saw the detective's eyes narrow. "Your dissertation and the stir it caused, it was all very public. I'm sure that many have forgotten the details and that it ever happened. Human beings are easily distracted by the next sensational story that comes along. Only those that have a particular interest will remember."

Blair could feel his insides tighten. "And you have a particular interest." He licked at his bottom lip. "What kind of interest?"

"Sentinels are a part of my heritage. They are spoken of as heroes and protectors. Every child in my home of Unguja has grown up hearing the tales of these super men. Of course, the news that a sentinel lives here in Cascade would be of interest to me." Brooks smiled. "But the newspapers and television ignored or glossed over the one who always exists with a sentinel. His companion is also the story of legend in my country. You are he. You are the one that he trusts to guide him. You must be his support so that he can perform the duties his instincts demand of him."

"I'm not saying that anything you've said is true. Jim's a cop. So am I. I'm his partner so, yeah, it's my job to back him up." Sandburg was starting to feel uncomfortable about the way the conversation had turned. Brooks was asking him to reveal secrets he had kept hidden for so long. He had given up things that had been important to him to keep them hidden. "You still haven't told me what your interest is in this. I didn't come here to talk about Jim Ellison."

The shaman's voice was soft. "No, of course you didn't, Blair. I can see that I have gone about this in a poor way." He paused to take another sip of his tea. "I did not mean to seem a threat to Detective Ellison. Last night I offered my help. I meant that offer for you. Will you accept my help? Every shaman has one who will teach him. Could I be that for you?"

Blair reached for his tea before answering. He had been sure that morning that asking Brooks for his help was the right thing to do, but now... Now his instincts were screaming at him to reconsider. When he looked at the shaman's eyes he was sure that he could see something behind them. Stalling, he took another drink of the tea. "I'm not a shaman. Is that what you think?" When he looked up into Brooks' face, he had to bite back a startled gasp. The deep brown of his eyes seemed to have momentarily flashed with a chilling gold colour.

"Why do you deny what you are?" The shaman's voice hardened. "You have power that can be used for whatever you desire. I can help you learn to control that. Don't be foolish, Blair. Let me guide you." Let me take it from you as I did Nyajiru. Let me send your soul to the spirit world you are so eager to deny.

Wiping at a trickle of sweat, Blair felt as if the room's temperature had suddenly gone up. "Look, I need time to think about this. Can we just skip it?" He swallowed and took a breath. "Let's focus on the lab report and the poison."

"Of course, Detective Sandburg." Brooks' face broke into a smile, erasing all traces of his earlier annoyance.

Ellison returned from the lab to find a pink phone message slip taped to his computer screen. Pulling it down he checked the name, Billy McGregor, and started to put it aside when he noticed the phone number. It was Cantelmi's from the airport. The time at the top of the slip showed that the message was almost 3 hours old.

Catching Jim's scowl, Henri Brown called over to him to explain. "I'm sorry, Jim. It's been sitting in my mail slot for most of the morning. We've gotta get those things labelled better. I just got in and found it." Brown shrugged his apology.

"Don't worry about it, H." Ellison quickly punched in the phone number and waited impatiently for someone to answer. On the seventh ring, just when he was sure that he'd have to leave a message on voicemail, Dom Cantelmi's gruff hello sounded in his ear.

"Mr. Cantemli, it's Jim Ellison. I just got your message."

"Ellison!" Cantelmi sounded almost surprised to hear from him. "I'd just about given up on you. I thought maybe you had solved your mystery and didn't need any more information."

Picking up a pencil, the detective got ready to record any facts Cantelmi could provide. "Sorry about not getting back to you sooner. Clerical mix-up. So what do you have?"

"It's not me, it's one of my guys, Billy McGregor. Look, there's no sense in you talkin' to me. Let me get Billy in here. You're going to want to hear it from him." Jim heard the hold button being depressed and then another click. Cantelmi's voice was back on the line. "It's gonna take a few minutes. You got time ta wait? Or you want me to get him to call you?"

"I can wait." Hearing the canned music start when the call was put on hold, Jim cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder and turned to his computer. Toggling over to the Internet, he keyed in the address of a search engine, thinking that he would do a little reading up on adders while he waited. He was curious to see if the adder resembled the snake of his vision. His initial search gave him over a thousand hits. He absently scrolled through them searching for pictures of the snake. It took him only a few visits to different pages to realize that adders came in various colours and sizes. It would take him forever to find the snake he was looking for. Well, Sandburg had sat with him, and with extreme patience, had taught him how to use the Internet as a search tool and not some place to play hit-and-miss. After a few minutes of contemplation he typed in another snake related bit of information that had turned up in the case. He added the words "gaboon viper" to his search and hit 'enter' just as McGregor came to the phone.

"Detective Ellison?"

"I'm here, Mr. McGregor. You have some information about Nyajiru?"

"I think I may have seen the man who killed him. Dom told me that Nyajiru disappeared the day I saw him." McGregor's voice shook. "My God, he told me that he was his father and that he wasn't feeling well. I even helped put the old guy into the car."

Ellison clutched his pencil tighter. "Back up, Mr. McGregor. If you knew this, why did you take so long to come forward?"

"I've been in the hospital and then at home recuperating. I came back to work this morning." There was a pause and the sentinel could hear the man's heart beat faster. "I got sick the day I saw them. Right after I helped them." The heartbeat increased. "Oh man, that guy... he must have..."

"Mr. McGregor," Jim bit down on his impatience. "Can you describe the man?" As he waited for the security guard to regain some composure, his eyes drifted back to the computer screen. The very first sentence he read made his heart drop into his stomach. The gaboon viper, also known as the King Puff Adder, is the largest of the various types of adders.

"He was young, maybe in his thirties. His head was clean-shaven. He was dressed in expensive clothes and drove a really nice car. I'm sorry I don't remember what kind. I was more concerned about the old man. He didn't look good." Ellison could hear the regret in his voice. "If I had only insisted on calling first aid maybe he'd still be alive. But he said he was the man's son!"

"And you had no reason to believe otherwise." Jim tried to ease the man's conscience. "Would you be able to identify this man if you were to see him again?"

"Yeah, I'm sure I could." The security guard's voice became a little stronger. "You just tell me when and I'll be there."

Graham Brooks held the file folder open on his lap. "From the compound described here and the affect it had on the body, I would say that the victim definitely ingested an herb or plant of some kind. I can think of one that has the elements found in the body that would produce these results. You should have your labs test for Arum. I am sure that they will discover that this is what was used."

Sandburg dutifully recorded the information the shaman had given him. "I've never heard of Arum."

"Its more common name is the Adder Root," Brooks explained. "It is not difficult to find if you know what you're looking for." He shook his head. "This person did not have an easy death, I'm afraid."

Blair's eyes closed at those words and his chin dropped to his chest. Adder Root, is that what Nya had meant by nyoka? Had the old man been trying to tell them how he had died? The knowledge that the elder shaman had died because he had travelled to help him and Jim weighed heavy on his conscience. He had hoped that Nyajiru's death would have at least been a quick one if not painless. "Would he have suffered long?"

Brooks nodded. "Arum can sometimes take several hours. If he were given the most toxic part of the plant he would have lapsed into a coma before death, but not before experiencing some pain. There would be internal bleeding, convulsions." The shaman paused and peered at Sandburg. "Are you not feeling well, Detective?"

"I'm all right. It's just very warm." Blair took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. "Is... is there anything else you can tell me? You said that this arum would be easy to find?" Rubbing at his chest with the heel of his hand, he tried to ease the tightness that had settled there. "How much expertise would a killer need?"

"Arum grows naturally in wooded areas. It is related to the Jack-in-the-pulpit. As for expertise? Your killer would have to have some knowledge of the plant to know that it would be poisonous, of course. So yes, I would imagine that he would have to have some expertise. Someone with an intimate knowledge of plants and herbs. Someone like myself." Graham Brooks' brows knit together. "Are you sure that you're feeling all right, Blair?"

The shrill warble of a cell phone came from Blair's jacket pocket. Looking at the shaman, he excused himself and wandered off into a corner of the room. "Sandburg."

Jim's voice greeted him when he put the cell phone to his ear. "Hey, Chief. I'm not picking up another heartbeat near by. Is Brooks near enough to hear this conversation?"

"No, he's... I don't think so." Sandburg took a quick look over his shoulder. "He's too far. What's wrong?"

"We've got some new information. Listen, Blair, I want you to get out of there. Simon and I are, maybe, ten or fifteen minutes away. Backup should be there even sooner."

"Backup? Simon?" Nothing his friend was saying was making much sense, but the tension in his partner's voice was coming across loud and clear. "What's the information?" Sandburg wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The room was getting to be oppressively hot. "We haven't finished talking yet."

"We have a description of the person who met Nya at the airport. It's Brooks, Sandburg. I want you out of there." Ellison's voice was a growl. "Now."

"Brooks? But why?"

"Sandburg," Jim let his exasperation seep into his voice. "We can talk about it later. Right now, I just want you to get in the truck and wait for us to get there. I don't want you trying to take this guy on your own. Wait for backup."

Blair knew that what his partner was saying made perfect sense. If he tried to take Brooks on his own and fouled up, they could lose him. "Okay, Jim. I'll wait for you to get here." He swallowed and tried to concentrate on what he wanted to say next. "But I don't think I can make it to the truck."

"Chief?" Ellison's voice was insistent. "What's going on?"

"I think it was the tea." Sandburg felt the phone slip through his fingers.

"Sandburg!" Jim yelled into the mike. "Sandburg!" Slapping the dashboard of Simon's car, he slammed the mike back into its holder. "Dammit! C'mon Simon, I don't think we've got much time."

The captain pressed the accelerator to the floor and spared Ellison a quick glance. "What happened? Why'd Sandburg hang up?" Gritting his teeth, he gave the wheel a sharp twist to avoid the car that was edging into the intersection. "Damn idiot! Can't he hear the siren?" Spitting out another expletive, he deftly maneuvered through the traffic, managing to keep his car, himself and his detective in one piece. "Jim? What happened with Blair?"

"He sounded odd when he answered. Distracted. Tired."

"Drugged?"

"Probably. Just before he dropped the phone, he said something about it being the tea." Ellison's voice betrayed his neutral expression. "That bastard's probably poisoned him. Sandburg never should have gone there alone. Brooks killed Nyajiru, almost killed that guy at the airport." Jim let out a long, shaky breath. "Blair..."

"We'll get there in time, Jim." The tires of the police issue sedan squealed their protest as Banks turned onto Ravenscliffe. He was just about to ask which house when he spotted the old Ford pickup parked further on up the street. "Where the hell's that black and white unit? It should have been here by now."

The car had barely rolled to a complete stop when Ellison leapt from the passenger side. Simon was only a few steps behind the sentinel, who had already reached the front door looking determined to get through it any way he could. Breathing hard, Banks put out a hand to restrain his detective. "Hold up, Ellison. We don't have a warrant and we certainly don't have the right to break and enter. Try the bell first."

Pressing on the bell, Jim turned to snarl at his captain. "You're not expecting me to play this by the book, are you? If no one comes to the door, I'm going in. I don't care if I have to go through one of those stained glass windows to do it."

"And I'll help you," Simon growled in return. "But we have to at least make the attempt to follow the law." Stepping back, he began to survey the exterior of the house, trying to decide which window would be the easiest entry point. He was sure it was going to be the only way in.

"I hear footsteps. Someone's coming." Jim tensed as he heard the bolt slide and the door open.

The woman that stood in the open doorway looked warily at the two men. She opened her mouth to ask their business with Graham Brooks, looking ready to bar their entry if the situation demanded it. Her question turned into an indignant yelp when Ellison pushed by her, nearly knocking her over, and into the house. Simon had his police identification in his hand and held it up for the woman to see.

"Unless you'd like to be taken downtown for obstructing officers in the performance of their duty, I'd suggest that you step aside and stay out of the way." The captain hurried to catch up to his detective, wondering if the startled woman would realize that neither he, nor Jim, had produced any legal documentation allowing them the right to enter the house. He spotted the sentinel just as he disappeared through a set of large double doors. Cursing to himself, Simon made a mental note to remind his detective of the proper procedure for entering an area that is possibly housing a murder suspect. At least pull out your damn gun, Ellison! Entering the room, the captain stopped and stared, his mouth dropping open.

"My God," he gasped. "It's a jungle." Banks noticed that the sentinel had also stopped and stood near the centre of the room. His head was cocked to one side, listening intently. Simon hurried to the man's side, hearing Blair's voice warn him of a possible zone out. "Jim?"

"I can't hear him." The sentinel's voice was a whisper. He slowly turned towards the captain, feeling fear travel down his spine like ice-cold fingers. "I can't hear Blair."

Graham Brooks stood in the deep shadows of his study. As much as he loved the room, he realized that it had been a mistake to build it with only one exit. Jim Ellison and the other man now blocked his way to freedom. His eyes narrowed as he watched the sentinel. Had Nyajiru been telling him the truth? Maybe Ellison was not a full sentinel as he had thought. Even hidden in the shadows, the detective should have been able to find him. If not by sight, he should have been able to identify where he hid by sound or smell. But the man just stood there, the look of panic growing on his face. It was then that Brooks knew the reason why. He's searching for his friend. He's blocked everything else out.

The shaman waited a few moments longer. He felt like a trapped animal that was consumed by one instinct and one instinct alone. He needed to move. His mind told him that staying put was the best strategy. Ellison and the other policeman would eventually come across Sandburg's body. He could use that as a distraction and make his escape. But animal instinct kept telling him to run. The message it sent was too strong to resist and he searched his surroundings for the best route. He could skirt the room, using the foliage for cover and make his way to the door. He slowly slid his foot along the floor, eager to move deeper into the greenery. The leaves of the plants brushed against his clothing with the merest hush, barely moving. Stealing a quick look back at the sentinel, he quietly started to slide his other foot. His breath clogged in his throat and his heart skipped. The steely blue eyes of the sentinel bore into his. All idea of stealth was forgotten as he plunged into the deep cover of shrubs. He heard the detective shout something to his companion and then the sound of branches and twigs snapping as Ellison chased after him.

"Simon, there's Brooks." Jim started after the shaman. "Keep looking for Blair."

Banks saw the rustle of movement in the farthest corner of the study and caught a quick glimpse of their suspect. He knew for certain that the man wouldn't make it out of the room. Ellison would make sure of that. He only hoped that Jim remembered that the shaman might be the only key to discovering Sandburg's whereabouts and, if he had been poisoned, Brooks would know the antidote. Travelling deeper into the room, Simon pushed aside leafy shrubs and palms. Blair had to be hidden somewhere in them. Jim's not being able to hear him had him worried, but Sandburg had said himself, just that morning, that the sentinel's senses were still suffering from the previous evening. That had to be the reason.

"Captain Banks!" Two uniformed officers stood at the door of the study. They took a brief look around the room and then split up. One headed after Ellison and Brooks, the other for Banks. "Sir?"

Biting back the reprimand for being late, Simon quickly explained the situation. "We have an officer down somewhere in this damn jungle. Possibly poisoned. Most probably unconscious." A crash at the far end of the room interrupted him. Ellison had caught his prey. "Let's go officer, start searching. Time's probably not on our side on this one."

Jim noted the arrival of the two officers but kept his eyes focused on Brooks. He was fairly sure the man was unarmed but not so sure that he didn't want to approach without using some caution. He hadn't been able to see both the shaman's hands. Until that moment. Brooks had turned to gauge his distance from the sentinel, giving him a clear view of his hands. They were empty. Jumping over the last obstacle that stood between him and his prey, Jim landed close enough to knock the man to the ground. Rolling the stunned shaman onto his back, the detective quickly wrapped a set of handcuffs around his wrists. Turning Brooks once again onto his back, Ellison moved his hands to grab the man's shirt and pulled him roughly to his feet.

"Where's my partner?" The words were savage and the sentinel slammed Brooks against the broad base of a palm tree for good measure. "Where... is... he?"

"Your captain should come upon his body very soon." Graham Brooks' face was smug. "He collapsed somewhere over there." The smugness suddenly left his face and he frowned. "You arrived too soon. This did not end as I saw it. His power should have become mine." His head tilted as he regarded the sentinel. "Is it because of you? Sandburg had no defense against me. It should have been so easy. Even Nyajiru could not deny me in the end."

Brooks' ramblings about stolen power made no impression on Ellison and he was ready to say so when his captain's hoarse shout came from the other side of the room. He thrust the shaman at the uniformed officer who stood waiting.

Jim pulled a long folded piece of paper from a pocket. "Graham Brooks, I have a warrant for your arrest. This officer is now going to read you your rights. Make sure you understand them." He looked at the officer and frowned. He wasn't more than a kid. "Keep a close watch on him. I don't care that he's cuffed. You keep your gun on him and if he moves, just shoot him." When he was sure that the officer knew he was completely serious, he ran to over to Banks. Both his captain and the other officer were crouched down and as he got closer, Jim could see the dark blue of his friend's shirt. His heart sank. Blair wasn't moving and Simon seemed to be frantically searching for a pulse. Don't let me be too late. "Simon?"

Banks looked up, his eyes wide in his dark face. "I can't find a pulse, Jim. You try." Sitting back on his heels, the captain wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. A horrible feeling of deja vu had settled over him. The two short years ago that he had begged Jim to find the heartbeat he couldn't suddenly seemed like yesterday. Had it been a cruel twist of fate that had allowed his young friend to live then, only to have his life taken from him again so soon? He held his breath as the sentinel's hand rested against Sandburg's neck.

Jim could feel his hand shake as he laid his fingers against Blair's warm skin. At first he could feel nothing and noted with alarm that Blair's lips looked tinged with blue. Raising his tactile sense, he could feel the frighteningly slow puffs of air against his hand and relaxed slightly. At least his partner was breathing, but he could still find no pulse. Just as he began to fear that the poison running through Sandburg's system had shut down his heart, he felt the gentle flutter of a pulse against his fingertips. Blair's heart was beating dangerously slow, but it was beating. Ellison's eyes were bright as he turned to answer his friend. "It's there, Simon. It's weak, but it's there."

The officer that had been helping Banks had disappeared and was now returning. "I've called for a paramedic unit, sir. And I've collected the tea that was in the cups. The housekeeper gave me a couple of containers." His eyes went to Sandburg's still form. "How's he doing, Detective Ellison?"

"He's hanging on." Jim rubbed Blair's hand between his. "He's hanging on."