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Jim Ellison leaned against the wall of the briefing room, bored and tired. He and Blair had been on stakeout almost all night, and they were tired. Dragging home to the loft at 3AM, neither man was pleased when they realized the answering machine was filled with multiple messages, all ordering them to be present at 9AM for this meeting.

Jim stifled another yawn. This was supposed to be their day off. He had tried to reach Simon while he and his partner had stumbled through breakfast, with the hope of begging off, but Simon was uncharacteristically unavailable. Their case had kept them out of the station most of the time for almost a week. Maybe something was up, and they just hadn't heard about it. At the moment, Jim was far too tired to puzzle out the reason or reasons for his superior's atypical behavior.

He nodded at Taggart as the big man squeezed into a place along the wall beside him. Blair started to ask if he knew what was going on. As the former captain of the bomb squad, Joel sometimes was privy to items of interest that the other detectives missed. This time he shrugged, but Jim noticed his heart rate picked up. Strange. Joel was one of the most honest, straightforward men he'd ever known. It was not like him to be evasive, especially where Blair was concerned. Taggart had a well-known soft spot for Blair.

His musings were interrupted by Simon's entrance. Again, Jim picked up an accelerating heartbeat. He straightened. Simon Banks could be volatile when it suited him, or when the situation called for rallying the troops, but he was rarely nervous without cause. He tossed a stack of papers and folders onto the podium and took a moment, scowling at nothing in particular. Blair threw Jim a concerned look. If Jim could use his sentinel abilities to read the inner man, Blair was just as good at noticing subtle behavioral clues and sensing how people felt. Jim would never admit it, but his guide's interpretations were as enlightening as his own, and were highly accurate. Blair raised his eyebrows and began to fidget. Something was definitely wrong.

"Gentlemen, ladies. We'll keep this short and to the point. We are embarking on a new organizational plan for the Cascade Police Department. As of today, all previous scheduling plans are null and void. Leave requests for the next six months are cancelled and will need to be rescheduled. You will be notified when leave applications will be reconsidered." Jim saw Henri Brown shift in his seat. He had a big family wedding coming up in month and was supposed to take a week off. He had been talking of nothing else for weeks. His attention jerked back to Simon, who was handing stacks of booklets to the front row people for distribution to his officers. It was obviously something they were intended to keep. It had a spiral binding and a bright blue title page ..... "Revised Procedures - Cascade Police Department".

Blair was flipping through his as soon as he got his hands on it. "Jim, this is bad. The thing has sub-sections. This has bureaucracy written all over it. My organizational BS radar just went off."

Jim smirked, despite his own anxiety. "That's what academia did for you, Chief. You're paranoid. Everything is either a grant application or a re-organization of the universe."

"You just wait. I'm not wrong." Blair was looking at Taggart. He had a pained expression on his face. Jim wondered again if if he knew what was coming.

"If you'll turn to the first section, you will find a list of officers who are being reassigned from Major Crimes to other duties. Those individuals can leave now and report to the dispatch area. There are personnel packets waiting for each of you. The rest of your briefing will be completed with your new supervisors sometime today. Additional questions you may have will be answered during those meetings. All others remain here. You are dismissed."

A quiet murmur was followed by the buzz of angry voices as this close knit group of men and women read down the hit list. Jim finally opened the booklet and frantically searched for Blair's name. As one of Major Crimes newest members, surely he would be a likely candidate. Blair's name was not on the list. It looked like their closest colleagues remained together. Jim looked up at Simon in disbelief. He was standing silent, apparently unmoved by the turmoil around him. He was ignoring any questions thrown in his direction.

"Who came up with this list?"

"My last evaluation was great; why am I being shipped?"

"Sandburg's not on the list? I've been here 5 years, but he stays and I go?"

"We have a union. Don't we get any kind of review here?"

"What do you mean, no leave? I'm taking my wife to Hawaii, and the tickets are non-refundable."

Simon's booming voice cut through the others. "I repeat, any further questions will be dealt with by your new supervisor. Until then, you need to pick up your personnel materials as directed. We won't be continuing until the transferred individuals leave. Please be prompt. The personnel people are waiting for you. I mean it. Get moving."

Simon kept his poker face, but no one missed the slight break in his voice. Exchanging worried and angry glances, first one and then another gathered up a few personal belongings and shuffled from the room. They were held in check only by the respect Simon commanded with this group. Those remaining behind whispered quiet words of support or quickly arranged to meet up with the others later as the others filed out. Jim was horrified to realize that partners, some of whom had been together for years, were being separated.

He looked at his own partner, who seemed shocked into silence. Blair had endured a lot of quiet and not so quiet resentment since joining Major Crimes as a full detective. Sandburg had been treated more favorably than officers with far more seniority. He was savvy enough to anticipate the consequences of this disaster.

The room slowly cleared. Simon still remained silent; staring at the clock on the opposite wall while men and women slowly filed from the room. About two thirds of the usual contingent remained, waiting expectantly. Jim heard a quiet voice ask, "So how are we supposed to cover the shifts at half strength? With mirrors? Only Jim could detect the slight shake in Simon's hands as he shuffled something to the top of the podium.

When he began to speak, the bad news continued. "As of now, overtime will no longer be processed. The second section includes a detailed schedule for the next month. Shifts have been staggered. You'll work half of your shift solo, and half of the shift will overlap with your partner. Most of you realize that your usual partner may have been re-assigned. Partner assignments will not be as firm as they have been in the past. In future, you partner will be whoever is on shift with you."

Blair and Jim focused on each other in panic - the implications for them were far more serious than for their colleagues.

"So how are we supposed to work on case for the time required if our partner keeps changing?

"Its unsafe to be out routinely without backup."

"What do you mean, no overtime? Since when do the bad guys stay on schedule?"

Simon rapped his knuckles on the podium, and glared the contingent into silence. "The new procedures for paperwork and case reporting will cover any difficulties that may arise from partner flexibility. You will need to read Section 3 and thoroughly familiarize yourself with these procedures before reporting for your next shift. People, this is not open for discussion. You may schedule individual sessions with me through Rhonda starting tomorrow. Under no circumstances will I deal with your individual situations today."

"He sounds like a robot," hissed Blair. "What cue cards is he reading from?"

"One final note. Our exchange officer will regrettably be returning to previous assignment in New South Wales. Inspector Connor, Rhonda has some paperwork for you and I will see you in my office at 8AM tomorrow to complete the transfer. We are all grateful for your service in Cascade."

Simon stepped back from the podium. "I suggest all of you try to wrap up paperwork today and read the new directives. I will be in meetings for the remainder of the day. Dismissed." With that, he was gone.

Blair was the first to move, and immediately went to Megan and wrapped her in a hug. Though the consummate professional, she was near tears. The others sat in stunned silence.

"Ellison, you're one of his best friends - didn't you know anything about this?" It was Rafe who spoke, but Jim knew every eye was on him. He shook his head, jaw grinding. He tossed the booklet he held onto a nearby chair in disgust.

"Haven't you guys ever heard of a blitzkrieg?"

Uncomfortable with the role he had been thrust into, Jim continued. "You know - strike hard, strike fast, before the opposition can mount any resistance. Judging from the last 15 minutes, I'd say the planners of this have done a pretty good job."

"Can they really do this to us? And for that matter, who is they?" It was Todd Johnson. Jim didn't know very well. He usually worked nights by preference. His wife was in school and they divided up the time to care for their young child. "I mean, we have a union. Can they really change all this stuff wholesale?"

"They must have found a loophole. This is too well orchestrated to not have taken that into account." Blair stepped away from Megan and continued. "I know some people at the U of W law school. I'll give them a call and ask. Who's on your - our -negotiating committee?"

"There's a guy from traffic, another from Vice, and two from the precincts," answered Brown. "Look, I went to the academy with one of them. I'll hunt him down and get the story, or at least try to." An angry murmur of followed.

"All right, people," broke in Ellison's voice. "Keep your heads, and act like detectives. Let's find out what's really going on here. Look, Simon's always been straight up with everyone in his command. For right now, lets just go with it. Tie up your paperwork. Read the stupid directives. Make an appointment for tomorrow. Everyone quit looking like someone took your ice cream. Everybody get moving - we're not doing anyone a favor standing around here."

The crowd in the briefing room gradually thinned out. They were down to the core of Major Crimes; Rafe and Brown, Megan, Joel, Jim and Blair. Jim spoke to them softly. "Guys, I didn't know anything about it. Sandburg and I have hardly been here for the last week. Didn't one of you have an inkling? Wasn't there any gossip?"

Head shakes and shrugs went around the room. Joel looked down, silent. Jim noted the jump in his heart rate again. All right, Joel, my man, so you knew. And you're not talking, are you, bud?

"Check the duty schedule. When are we all free for the first time?" Papers rustled around the room. "Tomorrow night - after 9."

"Then we'll see you all at the loft at 9:30," said Jim. "Come on, Connor. Let's go check out your paperwork, and try to make some sense out of this."

Ten minutes later, Megan was seated at her desk, with Jim and Blair hovering behind. The transfer papers sending her back to her Department in New South Wales were already signed. All the arrangements had been made, down to the tickets for her return flight. Megan looked like she was still in shock.

"I guess I should notify my landlord. Two weeks - I can't believe it."

"Look, Megan, when can you call your boss back home?"

"Later today. It's the middle of the night right now."

"Then do this much. Call him and see if you can pry some information out of him. Then call the airline and see when the tickets were booked, and by whom."

"Sure, Jim. Good thinking. Maybe we can get a glimmer of a timeline." She looked around the bullpen with a forlorn expression. "I don't even know where to start."

"Well, forget the paperwork," said Blair. "At least for today. They can't assign you any new cases, so you'll have plenty of time to finish up, even if it comes to the worst. Go home and take care of things there." Blair took her hands and pulled her out of the chair. "I'll call you tonight, okay? This isn't over. Have a little hope."

"Sure." Megan lowered her voice to a whisper. "How are you guys going to handle this? None of us are supposed to know, but you two are a special case. I have another life to go back to, but you two? Sandy's barely settled in as is."

"We'll deal, Connor. One way or another, we'll deal. Come on, Chief. We may as well head home and get some rest."

"Jim, lets just stay awhile. I couldn't sleep now. You can start on the paperwork and I'll make my call to the U. You don't suppose they've yanked long distance off the phones, do you?"

Jim watched mournfully as Blair picked at his meal. What a lousy day. They had ended up spending most of the day at the station. Blair's call to his legal eagles had produced more bad news. An obscure Washington law allowed a declaration of emergency to suspend the normal bargaining relationships for public employees, including law enforcement. Someone had quietly filed the appropriate paperwork, citing funding changes due to initiatives passed in the last statewide election. It had all been done very quietly, but 100% legally. It seemed they had very little recourse.

The day had been particularly difficult for Blair. So many of their fellow officers were facing transfers they didn't want. A list of open positions in nearby municipalities had been in the personnel packets. It didn't take a lot of imagination to figure that one out. In their anger and disappointment, many had lashed out at Sandburg. Blair felt incredibly guilty. Jim could think of nothing to say to ease his friend's suffering. He still needed Blair with him, and needed him badly. Blair wanted to be there by his side as well. After all the young man had been through to weather the storms of his press conference and the academy, Jim worried that they were approaching the proverbial last straw

"Sandburg, quit drawing in the food. You haven't eaten all day."

Blair pushed the plate away. "I can't forget the look on their faces. I feel so bad. They have every right to be angry. Their entire lives have been disrupted and there I am, sailing along."

"You're not sailing, and none of this is your fault. We've got problems of our own. How are we going to do this if you only overlap with me for a couple of hours a day?"

"That's if were lucky enough to be assigned together, period." Blair flipped to the shift schedule. "Maybe I can get people to trade with me. Like Megan said, the people closest to us know more than they let on. I can always work a longer shift so I can be there with you. It's not safe for you, or anyone else to work alone."

"Blair, you can't work constant overtime to be my security blanket. We'll talk to Simon, and...." They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Jim jumped in surprise. It was a testament to his preoccupation with Blair that he was unaware of an approaching visitor. Blair dumped his plate in the sink and went for the door.

It was Joel. He seemed unsure of his welcome, but as always, Blair surrounded their guest with an air of warmth. It could have been any other evening on any other day. Jim marveled at his ability to set his own heartache aside and worry about someone else. Settled on the couch, Joel's eyes fastened on Jim. It was an 'I know you know I know' moment

"He talked to me, you know." Jim nodded. Taggert was here for a reason. Best to hear the man out. "I couldn't say anything. Simon got this dumped on him two days ago. He needed the support, Captain to Captain, even though I'm not acting any more. He's done the best he can."

Blair almost exploded off the couch. "You can't be saying that we should just accept this crap? For everyone, for Megan?"

"No. I just think you need to know - maybe you don't grasp the politics - in a situation like this you can't fix everything for everybody. You can maybe negotiate one or two items, max. Simon would have done more if it were possible. He fought hard for what he got."

Blair was ready to continue arguing, but Jim stilled him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down. He stared at Joel grimly. "What you're saying is that Blair and I were the one thing he got, and he can't go back to the well again. How close am I?"

Joel's shoulders slumped. "You're right on. I don't want you to feel worse, but he put a lot on the line to keep Blair in Major Crime and keep your schedules sort of overlapping. Don't do anything stupid and make it a wasted effort. He had to make a choice, like triage on the battlefield. He chose you." He continued. "Look, I can't discuss this openly with the others, but Simon's barely hanging on himself. They want him out, and he's trying to hang on. He has his best chance of protecting the two of you, of protecting all of us, if he's still here and in Major Crime. It's a priority for him to do just that. He's standing in the fire and it takes guts. He's going to need his friends, and he's not in a position to lobby for support. I'd like to think that you'll help me when you can."

Blair almost moaned in his despair. "How can this get any worse? What are we supposed to do, roll over and play dead? How is that going to help Simon, or anyone else for that matter?"

Jim sat back and folded his arms. "Tell us what you can. We're listening."

"I don't know everything. Simon doesn't know it all either. Sit back, boys. I need to tell you a story.

"I wasn't in the military for as long as you were, Jim, and I certainly wasn't an officer. Just a poor dumb black kid, right out of high school. They sent me a draft notice and I showed up. Ended up in Viet Nam, doing demolitions. Did two tours."

Blair moved across the room to sit nearer to his friend. The big man seemed so distressed. "I always wondered how a peaceful guy like you got involved with bombs in the first place, even if it was taking them apart. Seemed like such a contradiction. It must have been hard."

"Well, it was beyond awful, but I tell you, it was better than packing a rifle into the blind jungle or stepping on a mine in a rice paddy. I hated every minute of being there. That's not really the point of the story. Because I was a specialist, so to speak, I was stationed in different places. They never had enough well-trained guys, and specialties like demolitions were in demand. They'd move us around, always training new guys on site to fill out a team. Saw a lot of different bases out in the boonies. For all the uniformity in the Army, no two bases or commanders run the same way. You agree, Jim?"

"Sure," said Jim. "Within the structure, there's a lot of individuality. Your commander, at any level, can make all the difference in the world." He exchanged a glance with Blair. Jim didn't have to search his memory too deeply to uncover some less than ideal superior officers. He had comrades that were dead as a result; men who didn't deserve to die.

"So what's your point?" Jim asked. "That this is just a different way of doing things?"

"No, not at all. I know Viet Nam was before your time of service, but you must have heard stories. You were an officer. You know how important it is to have certain types of duty on your record, or you don't get promoted. In those days, you had to show certain levels of command for the promotion, and everyone wants to get promoted. It's probably the same way now."

Jim nodded. "Yeah. Some things don't change all that much."

"So mixed in with the good commanders were guys with their eyes on other objectives, but they needed a battle command before they could move up. They didn't care where that command was and they sure didn't want to stay long. Didn't much care what happened while they were there, either." A trace of bitterness tinged Joel's voice. These were obviously not good memories.

"You're talking about 'getting your ticket punched.' Do it well enough for a favorable evaluation, move on and move up. I know the concept. " Jim leaned forward. "I'm not making the connection here, Joel."

"You can imagine what happened to a base after a couple of these bozo's went through. The usual tour for an officer on rotation was six months. They didn't have to live with their decisions. If you didn't train or keep your troops up to snuff, maintain your procedures, you could be gone before the chickens came home to roost. Someone else would have to live with the consequences while the original slacker was back in Saigon with his feet on a desk in an air-conditioned office." Jim studied his friend, realizing that his breathing and heart rate were spiking. For Joel, at least, this was not idle conversation. He must have been on the receiving end of this scenario. A kindred soul - whose ghosts do you carry with you, my friend?

Jim was snapped out of his musings, realizing that Joel was still speaking. Taggart's tone truly was bitter now. "Some of those guys were such bastards. Fake a few body counts; dress up a few inventories. Don't maintain security perimeters. With any luck, you won't be there when the sappers are throwing grenades in the middle of the night. Get a complacent buddy to do your inspections. Just make it look good long enough for you get your ticket out. The kids who bought it as a result didn't matter anyway. All you need to is to have a few critical people look the other way. Move out the ones who might cause you problems. When you have enough turnover, no one knows their job well enough to ask questions or lodge a complaint. Keep 'em moving and get out yourself, ASAP." The big man's hands were shaking.

Blair leaned over, putting a reassuring hand on Taggart's knee. Jim recognized a trace of his 'guide' voice. Just like Blair to forget his own troubles and react to another's. "Hey, man, take it easy. Jim knows the scene. I don't have to be a military to know how selfish jerks can manipulate the system. Self-interest at the expense of the common good is bad news, and it happens all over." They sat in silence while Joel composed himself. "I have to admit, I think I may be missing the point. How does this relate to re-organizing the PD?"

Joel acknowledged Blair's compassion, and turned a steady stare on Jim. "Ellison, what's the benefit in cutting overtime and leave, of having people handle part of their shifts solo?"

Jim shrugged. "Well, that's a no brainer. Money. We have funding restrictions, so you cut costs. Of course, we can't do our jobs, and someone's going to get killed working alone without backup. A minor detail. Gamble, and it might work for awhile."

"OK, that's a start. So who benefits?"

"Well, the mayor, I guess. Maybe the Chief of Police. The City Council, I suppose. I don't know, Joel. Nobody gets a party thrown for them by balancing a damn budget. Pretty mundane. Eventually, any or all of those people have to answer to the public if we don't protect their safety."

Blair started to bounce. Jim spotted the excitement bubble off him. A reflection of the academic curiosity of old. "No, no, no. The bad stuff, that's all delayed, Jim. That's what Joel was talking about. What happens right away? Who benefits short term?"

" Exactly. That's what I think, or at least suspect." Joel scooted forward, agitated again. "For all our grousing, the Cascade PD is a pretty successful show. We have dedicated officers who do their jobs well. We have a minimum of citizen complaints, and a high solve rate. People are proud of the job they do. That ship won't sink right away. Everyone will pull together and try to do the job despite the obstacles. For awhile, it will work."

"And someone punches their ticket. That's what you meant. Get in and get out. Make it look real good, and move on before the inevitable crashes in. That's why no leave for six months."

Blair shifted uncomfortably. "Well, both of you have been cops longer than I have, obviously, but I don't see the logic in the mass personnel changes. Wouldn't that make everything less efficient? Wouldn't this scenario depend on things going well, at least for awhile? It doesn't make sense to me." Blair was still fidgeting, consumed with the new interpretation for this most recent disaster in his life.

Jim shook his head. "Like Joel said, high turnover tends to minimize dissent. If you don't know how things are supposed to work, you're less likely to notice the flaws. You don't know any better. Plus, people are going to be careful about what they say. In this kind of atmosphere, it's implied that you could be somewhere worse tomorrow, or gone altogether. They made it pretty clear that seeking employment elsewhere would be just dandy. Move 'em around, and move 'em out." Jim thought for a moment. "All the reassignments also allow you to put people in key places. Patronage is as old as time. Like an officer who arranges for less than accurate inspections. That what you saw in 'Nam, isn't it, Taggart."

"Maybe I'm imagining similarities that aren't there. When Simon talked to me it sent chills up my spine. Like watching decades-old nightmares come to life. The 'job' isn't that far from war sometimes. Jim, you know what I'm talking about. Who are you willing to sacrifice while this plays out? It won't make me feel any better at the funeral if I figure this all out a year from now."

Jim didn't like the answer to those questions. He got up to pace. "That explains why Simon's under pressure. You'd need to move people like Simon out, and fast. He's a better politician than we give him credit for, but he's always been his own man. He's an African-American who moved up organizationally long before it was accepted. He knows how to manage opposition, and he has a lot of personal courage. He'll speak out even if there are consequences. He's a wild card. The only solution would be to put the squeeze on and hope he caves. Who knows, arrange for a better job somewhere else. Make it easy and make it impossible, all at the same time. I'll bet we were the first part of the squeeze, and so was Megan. Joel, you're right. There's definitely a parallel."

Blair was appalled. "So its all a giant delaying tactic? Subterfuge? All this anguish to buy enough time to escape with the laurels before the thing collapses? Who's the big beneficiary? Just tell me that."

Jim looked at Taggart with total understanding as a feral smile played across his face. "I don't have a clue, but Joel and I know this real analytical guy who's going to figure it all out. Guaranteed."

Ten days later

Jim fumbled with his keys and finally just leaned his head against the doorjamb. How could he get so tired in one week? His hearing told him that Blair was still up and in the living room. Crazy kid. It had to be 3AM. Both men were working the equivalent of double shifts, trying to minimize their time solo. Blair didn't want Jim to take the risk of zone out. Jim didn't want Blair alone in the face of - well, resentment seemed a little inadequate to describe the near harassment his partner was enduring at the moment.

The shock of the first personnel briefings had given way to fruitless anger. The mechanics of the new organizational plan were still shrouded in secrecy. Department heads like Simon were either in constant meetings or had been forbidden to discuss particulars. Jim's contact with his good friend had been brief and strained. It seemed as if Simon were willing him not to ask a question he wasn't in a position to answer. Whenever the opportunity arose, Jim tried to channel the anger away from his superior. Blair could only watch in pained silence. Although he enjoyed the full support of his immediate colleagues, he was a walking target for many other members of the PD who had been treated badly. Defending Simon just made the target on his forehead bigger. It had reached the point that Jim secretly feared for his physical safety and simply appeared whenever Blair was on duty, tired or not.

Finally locating the correct key, he swung the door open. It was like entering a time warp. Blair was wearing his glasses, dressed in jeans, flannel and thick wool socks. His hair was down and pushed behind his ears. He was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor in front of a large cork bulletin board, which was covered with colored pins and paper labels.

True to Jim's assessment, Blair was directing an intelligence operation worthy of the CIA. Using information brought in by a growing network of gatherers, he was retracing the complicated personnel transfers, trying to piece together a pattern that would reveal the greater whole. It was painstaking work. Jim marveled again at the young man's ability to process and analyze. What Blair referred to as a 'social structure in flux' everyone else called a hopeless mess. The board looked like tangled spaghetti. Moving up behind his partner, Jim noticed that the colored pushpins were now decorated with multicolored dots. Blair was scratching notes on a yellow legal pad, sipping a nearly empty mug of tea. Jim sighed. Time to break the reverie.

"Hey, Chief. Look at the time. You need some rest. You promised you'd hit the hay when you left the station at midnight."

"Hi, Jim." Blair scrambled to his feet, bending and straightening his knees to stretch out his stiff legs. "Apparently even yoga boys can't sit on the floor forever. You want something to eat? How about some hot chocolate?"

"Down, boy. I mean it, Blair. As long as this keeps up, we both have to get some down time when we can."

"Well, I meant to just sit down for a few minutes and lost track of the time."

"Try it on an amateur, Sandburg. Jeans and flannels are not bed dress, even for you. You had no intention of going to bed."

Blair gave him a sheepish grin over his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen. "Rafe brought me the info I wanted from Robbery and Traffic. I feel like I'm teetering on figuring this out. If I just put in a little more time, maybe I can push it over the edge. It's not like I haven't pulled all-nighters before."

"Yeah, but you were going off to face a roomful of college freshmen, not crazed criminals. Come on, Blair. You'll get the answer without driving yourself up to and beyond exhaustion."

"Don't jump to conclusions, man. Those freshmen were killers. You want chocolate or chamomile? That's what I'm having."

"You're corrupting me - I'll take the tea." Gratefully accepting the mug, he drifted back to look at the board. "What are all the colors?"

"I got to thinking, if there was some personal connection, which seems likely, it might go back beyond the most recent posting. So I started coding those in where I knew them. I had Taggart on a cell phone for thirty minutes feeding me whatever he could remember. Our big ole teddy bear Joel has a mind like a trap. The guy remembers where people worked and who they were with way back to when he started at the PD. There are PhD's who would kill for that kind of recall."

Blair bustled in the kitchen and continued. "Rafe suggested the last time he was here that we check out when people went through the academy. Now, obviously my experience wasn't representative, but he said he's still close to guys he trained with. It's worth a shot. I can't exactly walk in and ask for personnel records, so I'll have to depend on everyone's memory."

"No you won't. There's a picture of every graduating class in the instructors' lounge. I'll go over and get what you need."

"Cool. I don't think there's much chance of me lurking around any portion of the academy grounds unobtrusively."

Jim felt the unspoken hurt. He set down his mug and grabbed his partner by the shoulders and began kneading the tight muscles in his neck and shoulders. "People don't really mean what they say, you know. It just spills out. Easier to bluster at someone you can conveniently blame rather than admit that you're scared or confused or hurt. Let Mr. 'fear response' vouch for that. Just don't fight me on this, Blair. If I can be a buffer, let me. I can't contribute much of anything else."

Blair groaned, slowly twisting his head, scrunching up the aching neck muscles. "That feels good, man. Must be those sentinel fingers."

"Don't try to change the subject. You have some predictable strategies, too. Who do you think taught an old dog like me how to spell 'obfuscation'?" He went back to staring at the board with its color coded secrets. There's a lot of purple on there. What's purple? Patrol?"

"No - why Patrol?

"Just a guess. It's the biggest division overall. Stands to reason, based on pure size alone."

"Well, it's not. Purple is robbery."

"Robbery? You're kidding. Next to Major Crime and the real specialized stuff like bomb disposal or SWAT, it's the smallest division. Why so many moves from there?"

"I don't know. I just realized that was one of the emerging patterns about an hour ago. It doesn't make sense to me either. Like you said, on a size basis it's unexpected. I can't think of an explanation. It could be pure coincidence. I'll keep at it."

"The only thing you're slated for at the moment is bed. No cheating. You don't have to go in tomorrow until noon. Sleep in and I'll make breakfast." He steered his partner down the hallway.

"No way. I have an appointment at 8:30 tomorrow morning."

"Doing what? That's less than five hours of sleep."

"Remember Mrs. Gattern downstairs? She has a chemo treatment tomorrow, and her daughter can't drive her like she usually does. I'm going to take her to the appointment and bring her back home. Lisa will be here at 11:30 so I can get to work. Henri's going to cover for me if I'm late."

Jim looked at his partner in disbelief. "Blair Sandburg, Cascade's charter member of the Florence Nightingale Auxiliary."

"She's a nice lady, Jim. Remember the cookies she brought us at Christmas? I can snooze at the Dr.'s office while I wait. No problem."

"There's no use in arguing with you, Darwin. Go to bed. No reading under the covers. I can hear you turn the pages."

"That's what you think, oh great sentinel. That's what you think."

&&&&

The next morning, Blair sat in the waiting room of the oncology clinic. Hospitals gave him the creeps. This was even worse. People came and went, some clearly wracked by the disease tearing at their bodies from the inside. The staff was patient and gentle, but it didn't hide the fact that these were people fighting for their lives, and some were losing. He had chatted with an older gentleman, waiting for his wife. The man had broken down in tears with Blair, a complete stranger, sobbing quietly, fretting that the end was closing in on his beloved soulmate. Blair was near tears himself as the man was paged, collected his frail spouse and departed. He sat in the lobby of this mournful place, breathing deep, trying to compose himself.

"You did a kind thing, son. I've known Eddie and Sylvie for years. I've never seen him break down before."

Blair jumped and bit his tongue, startled by the voice. His eyes widened in recognition. He stood and offered his hand. "Chief. Nice to see you, sir. Forgive me. I didn't expect to run into anyone I knew."

"I heard good things about your work with Ellison before, ...well, before. Too bad your initial time with the Department is so tumultuous."

Blair bit his tongue again, this time on purpose. He wanted to blurt out all his questions and demand answers. The Chief of Police was sitting in the next chair. Would it be illegal to shake the man until the truth came out? "It might be easier, Sir, if we knew what was going on."

"I know, young man. Times of change are difficult."

OK, so no answers. Time to change the subject. "Will you be waiting here long, sir? I could get us a coffee....."

"No, thank you, but it's not allowed before a treatment." Blair stared at the man, and then tried to recover. Poorly. "Well, I guess I let that cat out of the bag. Oh, so what. The announcement is tomorrow."

"Announcement, Sir?"

"That I'm retiring, effective immediately. The department needs a fresh face at the helm. I just don't have the energy to fight the cancer and handle the PD. It's all for the best." He smiled gently "It's been pointed out to me that I've been there a long time." At that moment, a nurse appeared, opening the treatment area door with a smile. "My turn, Mr. Sandburg. You take care, young man. You'll make us proud."

Staring at the man's retreating back, Blair heard Jim's voice and replayed the conversation. "Move 'em out; make it easy to go." Another piece of the puzzle had just slipped into place. He was sure of it.

&&&&

"Come on, Jim, pick up, damn you!" Blair was sitting in Mrs. Gattern's Oldsmobile, dialing the loft for the 3^rd time in 30 minutes. He couldn't leave his elderly friend to fend for herself, so he kept dashing out to call, hoping to reach his partner. He disconnected and tried Jim's cell instead.

"Ellison."

"Jim! Where have you been?! Oh man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"Slow down! I can hear your heart over the phone. I've been at the academy getting the lists you needed. Had a few interesting conversations while I was there. What's wrong, anyway- is Mrs. Gattern ok?"

"She's fine - well, as fine as you can be when they pumping your body full of poison. Jim, our illustrious Chief of Police just sat next to me in the clinic and said he was resigning. He's got cancer. The way he said stuff; it was like all this whole reorganization was operating without him or at least over his objections. Like he was out of step with the times and needed to leave anyway." There was dead silence on the other end. "Jim? Jim are you there?"

"Yeah, Sandburg. Just thinking. What the hell ? - for a bureaucrat, he's a good man. If he's gone this whole thing could be more out of control than we already know it is. Look, you finish with Mrs. Gattern, but I'll meet you at the station at the beginning of your shift. Don't go anywhere until I get there. I don't care if we're invaded by Martians. Have Rhonda hide you if necessary. You got it?"

"Sure, Jim. I'll try to hurry."

"Do right by Mrs. Gattern first. Not that I have any doubt. And Blair, you were right about the purple."

"The purple? Oh, the pins!" Blair practically crawled into the phone, but his partner had already disconnected. So where did the Robbery Division fit in with this mess? More agitated than ever, he headed back into he clinic.

Jim merged onto the freeway traffic, driving madly and talking as he went.

"Rhonda. I need to talk to Simon, and I mean right now. No excuses. Where is he?"

"He's not here. I told you that." Rhonda's usually calm voice showed the strain she'd been under. More than once some angry, frustrated cop had vented in her direction.

"I know what you told me. I also know that if I needed to find out if Elvis is alive or who killed JFK, you're the one I'd ask. You have better connections than NSA surveillance. Spill."

"He was really upset when he left. He said he was going to talk to Daryl, and not to let anyone reach him. His comment about what the PD could do in the interim isn't repeatable, at least by me. He meant it. He's gonna kill me, and it's your fault."

"Daryl?" Jim immediately veered to the far right lane, eyeing the next exit. Oh, well, everyone crosses four lanes of traffic in fifty feet if it was really important. Not like his insurance premiums would get any worse. "Rhonda, I promise Simon won't kill you. See if you can find Brown and Rafe. I may need 'em. Later." I owe you roses, lady. Why Darrell, Simon? Why see your son in the middle of the day?

He found Simon sitting on some benches in front of the high school, Daryl at his side. The tracks of tears were fresh on the boy's face. Simon didn't look much better, but had an arm around his son, trying to comfort him. Jim hesitated for a moment, then plowed ahead. This couldn't wait.

"Ellison, if you're here, Rhonda better be leaving the country. Whatever it is will have to wait. I have business with my boy."

"I think we're sinking on the same ship, Simon. We've been friends a long time. You know I wouldn't be here without cause. Can I sit?"

Reluctantly, Simon nodded. "Simon, what do you know about the Chief resigning tomorrow?"

"You're interrupting us for rumor?" barked Simon angrily. "Give me a break, Ellison...."

"No rumor, Simon. Blair just talked to him - it's a long story, but let's just say cancer patients don't lie under those circumstances. Said the announcement was tomorrow. Blair got the distinct impression he was being hurried along the road to retirement. That jive with what you've been told?"

"Absolutely not." Simon's anger boiled over. Daryl flinched involuntarily. An angry Simon Banks, was a storm to avoid, even if you were his child. The poor kid was upset enough as it was. "The only thing holding this whole mess together was assurances from the Chief that he wold be able to roll it all back with a little time and patience. If he's out of the picture.... All the guarantees and promises would go with him. Under those circumstances, I never would have agreed to anything."

"So this is a surprise. So who's riding the bubble to the top? What's driving this fiasco? I know, we've been avoiding these questions between us. Has the playing field changed? Can you level with me?"

"This was on my desk this morning." He handed some papers to Jim, who began to flip through pages while listening. "It's a transfer, effective next week. I'm supposed to represent Cascade on a community policing task force in Olympia for a year. I made a few calls. It's an empty office in the statehouse. The bill passed the legislature a couple years ago, but the funding was never allocated. They're paying me to be out of town. I'd have to relocate for the year, leave Darrel, or leave the department, which also means I'd probably have to relocate."

"What if you fight it?"

"An in depth review of my supervision of you and Sandburg, plus a few other things. Enough to make it look bad. Make it difficult to make a new start anywhere else, if it came to that." He looked at his son. "I need to be able to provide for my boy, to pay for his college, take care of my mother. We... I need to look at the long term."

Jim considered this new slant on things. Easy to go and impossible to stay - those words seemed to haunt them. He knew the depth of Simon's loyalty to his command. For him to get this far was pure agony. Simon, the Chief, they wouldn't be the only ones. Realistically, they would get around to him, and surely to Sandburg. A defensive position wasn't realistic anymore. His days as a cop in Cascade were numbered. After all the sacrifices Blair had made, it was an outcome he wasn't willing to accept. Time to either go on the attack or admit it was over.

"Simon, if they've gone this far with you, I can pretty much figure my position will be untenable. It's time to either fight back or go quietly. Tell me what you want to do. I'll understand either way. You have dependants that aren't a concern for me."

Daryl snapped out of his silence, tugging on his father's sleeve. "Dad, don't let this happen. We can work things out. You're proud of being a cop in Cascade. I don't want some jerk to take it all away because you are worried about paying my tuition. I can get a job, or go to community college. I don't want you to go to Olympia or anywhere else. Please, Dad. You and Jim can do anything. I know you can."

Simon paused in thought, then clasped his hand behind the back of Daryl's neck. "Son, you go back to class now. I think Jim and I have some work to do."

"Everything will be ok, Dad."

Simon watched his son walk back to the building. Without meeting Jim's eyes, he stood and sighed. "I hope you've got a plan, Ellison, because I sure don't want to be a liar to my son."

They sat in Simon's car, not wanting to have this conversation near any prying eyes or listening ears. Jim went through Joel's suspicions, and continued with the bits and pieces he and Blair had accumulated. Simon listened quietly, asking a few probing questions, supplying enhancements from his side of things. The wily, political side of Simon's personality was coming to the fore.

"So the Chief steps down, and there's a void. That spot has to be filled with someone from the outside, which takes time, or from the inside, which may have been the plan all along. There are very few viable candidates to take the Chief's spot within the department right now. Obviously, I'm not one of the possibles. That may explain why all of a sudden I'm needed in Olympia. We don't have a lot of time to put the brakes on."

"So we start there. Think you could convince the Chief to delay, even a couple of days?"

"I can try. All I can do is try. Why would a couple of days make a difference in this disaster?"

"Because the guys have been working on this since it broke. I think we might be able to sort it out, especially if you were playing a more active role. I think we have only one shot at this, and it's time dependent for a whole variety of reasons."

"I'll meet you at the loft. I'll call Rhonda and pull you and Sandburg off the duty roster. Pull together anyone else you need. What can they do, fire me?"

&&&&

Later that afternoon, the small group of detectives had their chairs pulled up around Blair's board. Jim had distributed the lists of academy graduation lists, cross-checking the information with the they already had. Blair was adding the new data as they went. As Jim suspected at first glance, certain graduation classes seemed to have been treated in a similar fashion, but no overall pattern seemed to emerge. Every time they thought they had identified a trend, it slithered away in contradictions. Frustration and fatigue were slowing them down. They had just halted to take a break. Henri joined Blair on the floor, curling his large frame into an awkward pretzel.

"Sandburg, are you really making any sense out of this? Not that I doubt you or anything like that, you understand."

"Oh, it's there. If we had more time, there are computer programs that can decipher complicated social structures or family relationships, that kind of thing. It just takes so much time to set up the parameters, and I don't really have access to the computer assets anymore now that I'm not at the University. It's a real handicap not to be more familiar with the individuals. Some of these relationships, maybe the critical ones, may go back decades. None of us have been with the department long enough to pick them out."

"Jim, Simon and Taggart just pulled up. They've got someone with them. You recognize this guy?" Rafe was motioning Jim over to the balcony. It was a moment that sentinel vision came in handy, but in truth, he didn't need it.

Jim snickered and returned to the loft, Rafe in tow. "Oh, Sandburg? I think that computer you were wishing for just showed up. He's coming up the stairs right now. This is going to be good."

Daniel Patrick Kerry was nearly seventy, the father of four daughters and the last of five generations of Irish cops. Despite his six-foot frame, he filled a room with his laugh as much as his size. His red hair was shot with silver. He was a living legend at the Cascade PD. Ironically, he had been one of the first cops to cross racial lines, and at his specific request, had at one time been partnered with a tall, skinny, brash rookie by the name of S. Banks. He shook hands all around, enthusiastically welcomed by the younger men. All were acquainted, with the exception of Sandburg.

"So this is the young one I've been hearing about. So show me your masterpiece, son. Let these big overgrown oafs sort out all the gossip they've heard. The two of us will work the maze here." He snagged a chair effortlessly and seated himself, hanging over the back. "The rest of you shooo! Let the brains go back to work, you hear?" With a smile, Blair launched into his explanations. D.P. was soon adding explanations and anecdotes, Blair scribbling away, trying to keep up. The other men attempted to listen and absorb the torrent of information flowing from the far side of the room.

Henri elbowed his partner. "Hey, Rafe. You lost?"

"Are you kidding? I couldn't keep track after the first five minutes. Captain? Joel?"

"Oh, yeah. We worked with these guys." The two men nodded knowingly, then gave each other a sideways glance, in unison. Jim cracked up.

"They're bluffing. Quit faking it. We may as well eat, since none of us boneheads have anything to contribute." He led the sheepish group to the kitchen without a backward glance.

Start to finish, it took less than and hour. Blair was beaming when they gathered chairs around the board again. D.P. started the ball rolling.

"You boys did a good job here. Kept your heads. You were missing a few key bits of info. But then, none of you boys have been doing interrogations over beer in a Irish pub. Simon, begin the story."

"The Chief didn't hold anything back when we saw him today. You know about the cancer. When this first hit, he was fresh from being diagnosed and still in shock. He told us he took this whole plan at face value, and believed that people were going to be taken care of."

Taggart continued. "He's been pretty isolated. He was shocked when he saw Simon's transfer papers. I felt guilty as hell. Here he's throwing up every five minutes from the chemo, making calls, getting madder by the second. He's committed to fight. We have to locate the target."

D.P. took over again. "Blair boy was right, this is coming out of robbery. Every department has been seeded with officers who are currently in robbery, or have moved through that division. It's easy to pick out the cronies. Blair couldn't find the pattern because he couldn't plug in who worked with who, and where they worked, ten or fifteen years ago. The relationships go way back"

"Once Daniel gave me that, it's really pretty obvious." Purple now was speckled all over the board. Each reconfigured division had at least two or three purple marks. Only Major Crimes stood out. "That's why they have to move Simon. They don't have enough of a presence in Major Crimes. Simon did too good a job of protecting his key people. Must have frustrated the hell out of them."

"I've got a question," said Rafe. "Why is it so important to have people in every department? Why not saturate the high profile departments and let the minor ones, or at least the less visible ones, go?"

"Because Taggart's Viet Nam analogy is probably exactly what's up. They need someone in every department to suppress any negative reports or complaints. Gussy up the efficiency reports and the crime statistics. Pin point trouble makers. Keep the lid on for awhile."

"What you couldn't know is that our illustrious mayor, also a good Irish boy, is accepting an appointment in State government right after the fall elections. He couldn't resist buying a few rounds of expensive Irish whiskey and bragging to his old buddy from the neighborhood, namely, me. He forgot that Daniel Kerry will be a beat cop till the day he dies. The PD is my family, and commands my loyalty. When I heard about this from Simon, no question whose side I'm on."

"So let me guess. The mayor leaves, and takes a loyal aide, or maybe several, with him. Someone with fresh, shiny, impressive experience reorganizing the Cascade PD. A real meteor across the night sky." Jim looked at Taggart. "Punching the ticket - you were exactly right, Joel."

"And you called it. Blitzkrieg. Fast, secret and overwhelming. So we know when, and we know how. We still don't know who is supposed to step in for the Chief. I hate to bother everyone with details, but we don't exactly have the ability to do covert surveillance like wiretaps or such things, and we only have a few days."

D.P. pushed back his chair. "Blair and I have a few candidates." He checked his watch. "The Chief will be calling the Mayor in 45 minutes to postpone the announcement of his retirement. The official reason will be to give him more time to recover from chemo before holding his press conference. Not too far from the truth. The man's sick as a dog. When His Honor gets the call, I'm sure he'll need to get in touch with a few key people. Now I'm not one to jump to conclusions, but I think we can come up with a way to find out who decides to contact from that nice, plush office down at City Services. Wiretaps and such are so messy, you know. Never trust technology when you have a good cop to do the job. Especially ones with unique abilities." He smiled and turned a level, triumphant gaze on Jim. Jim kept his face blank, but gave Simon a look that said it all. How could he have divulged such a precious secret?

"Son, you don't need to make a fuss with denials, now. I read the papers, and I still have contacts. Nobody had to say anything. We're all friends here, and secrets stay secret. Get an old man a cold beer before you and this whippersnapper take off for downtown. As I remember, there's a nice comfortable bench on the north side of the building, right below the Mayor's office. I would guess that it would be just about perfect. We'll be right here, eating your food, waiting to hear from you."

The next day; high noon

"Taggart, you look damn fine in dress blues."

"Ellison, there is a hot place in hell for men who can breathe freely in their original graduation uniform." Joel fussed for the twentieth time at the top button of his collar. "Do you really think we needed all this formal fol-de-rol?"

"It's a press conference. It won't do if we all look like we rolled out of bed. We need to make a statement that the press and community will notice. This whole boondoggle depended on speed and a certain level of secrecy. Once we're done here, secrecy will be blown to hell. I took Sandburg's work and wrote up a few discrete summaries. As of this morning, they went to the in-boxes of a few selected journalists."

"Oh, let me guess. You picked every pit bull within fifty miles."

"Well ...yes. Nothing like a little insider information to prime the pump. Once the story breaks, Sandburg's got handouts."

"So the kid still has a few tricks from academia. Rhonda told me the two of them had Kinko's busy far into the night."

Jim laughed. "I'm glad I was needed elsewhere. Two Energizer Bunnies and a copier. They could rule the world. Can you believe it? Sandburg's legal buddies are drawing up a formal challenge to the declaration of emergency in exchange for some 12 course meal. I have to help cook. The upside is, when we can get our union back into it, things will be easier."

"I still have trouble believing that Mike Lanning and Sam Price are behind all this. I always thought they were jerks, but to jeopardize your colleagues like this? I still think Simon and I should have had a come to Jesus with them as soon as you brought back the names. It would have been a hell of a lot more satisfying."

"Patience, Taggart. This whole thing only worked because it was a secret. D.P. Kerry will be live on Channel 4 this afternoon. Can you imagine him on the loose in an unrestricted interview? I can't think of a better candidate to swing public opinion our way. By the time the City Council meets on Thursday, there will be no rocks to hide under. When the dust settles, we'll all get our crack at Lanning and Price and their cronies. Hope their resumes are updated."

"You know, Ellison, sometimes you do something that reminds me you were more that just regular army. It's a little scary. Here come the brass. It's time. We need to get everyone lined up. You take the other side. See ya." With one last tug on his jacket, Taggart headed down the steps.

With graceful precision, row upon row of Cascade Police officers assembled on the steps of the Courthouse, flanking a podium with its attendant microphones. Each sported a crisply tied black band tied at the arm, publicly protesting the state of emergency and the management of their department. For a full minute, they waited in complete silence. As the watching crowd and jittery media waited, a final motorcade arrived. Most of the top administrative officers, with a few noticeable exceptions, made their way up the wide promenade. The leading rank was formed by a wan but determined Chief of Police, discreetly supported on one side by Captain Banks, and on the other by Capt. Daniel Patrick Kerry, Ret. The Chief may have struggled up the shallow, wide steps of the Courthouse, but when he took the microphone, his voice was sure and strong.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the media, thank you for attending. As your proud public servants, and with the best interests of the City of Cascade at the fore, we have gathered here to bring a grievous situation to your attention. We are confident that after hearing the full story, the City Council will confirm the actions of these courageous officers here before you and overturn the recent reorganization of the Police Department. We also believe that those responsible for betraying the public trust will be held accountable and given their just rewards.

This story has its beginnings in the ruthless pursuit of position and power....."

Detective Jim Ellison, on the end of the front-most row felt his partner join him in line. At the Chief's request, Blair had accompanied the terribly ill man on the trip from his home. Their encounter at the cancer clinic and Blair's gentle handling of Mrs. Gattern had made an immediate impression. He exchanged a glance with his partner, who had borne so much abuse as the storm had boiled around them.

Blair smiled, and sentinel-soft, murmured, "Strike hard. Strike fast. Overwhelm the opposition with a show of force. Blitzkrieg, man. Blitzkrieg."