Tolerance Book II

Chapter Eighty-Nine: Revenge Contemplated

Downtown Vancouver: Diner

Three days later Voight sat in the back booth of a busy diner and eyed his companion across the age marked table. The injured Detective still looked like hell and it was obvious his hand was causing him trouble but he never once voiced a complaint about it, or anything else for that matter. Marks had proved his worth to the seasoned Sergeant when he had persuaded his colleagues to refrain from interviewing the young man for a day. Twenty-four hours wasn't long in the scheme of things but it gave Halstead the chance to come to grips with the latest killing and for that Voight owed the Canadian his undying gratitude. Adam had played his part too by making himself available for questioning within an hour of the explosion. His story was essentially the same as Halsteads. He had only arrived on the floor as the Waiter knocked on the door and as a consequence had not really studied the man. The death of the young Irish girl had left a mark on the whole Unit but, as expected, it had hit the youngest Detective the worst. The recently gained knowledge that Sandy had indeed been asked, via a phone call, to go up to their floor had sickened but not surprised them all. She had in fact been the only casualty on the day, a miracle considering the force of the blast had actually ripped through the floor of the room below. They did not know how King had tracked their nondescript hotel down but precautions were now in place and the Unit and the two New Yorkers had taken up residence in an opulent large cabin style seven bed house outside of the bustling city, surrounded by woodland and heavy surveillance equipment. Although not actually a safe house officially the place was often used for visiting dignitaries, hence the security measures in place. Voight wasn't sure how they had been given access to the perfect location but he had decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and kept his curiosity in check. Besides he had bigger things to deal with which gave rise to the impromptu diner visit. For the past few days everyone in the Unit had been trying to draw Halstead out but he was reticent about discussing his abduction or the latest bomb and only supplied the briefest of replies when pressed. The Sergeant had finally decided to take matters into his own hands and volunteered the Detective and himself to collect the lunch order. The drive into the city had been silent but each man was comfortable in silence so there was no strain. After handing over the long list Voight had led the way to the booth as they waited for the order to be filled. That had been five minutes ago and still no words had been exchanged.

"You know you're entitled to get mad," the older man commented evenly, his voice low to ensure the surrounding patrons were not privy to the words.
"Sarge?" Jay tore his gaze away from the window with a frown.
"King has been doing a number on you for months now," Voight elaborated seriously, "you have every right to be angry over what's he's done and ....,"
"Anger won't stop him," the younger man countered with a tone of grim acceptance.
"Still if it was me I'd be after shooting someone around me by now," Voight shrugged.
"Guess it's a good thing it's me he's after then."
"Well I'll give it to you you're way more ......," Voight paused searching for the right word, "patient than I would be. You want to share?"
"Share?"
"Don't repeat what I say. You know exactly what I mean. What are you thinking really Halstead?"
"Not sure what to say Sarge," Jay shifted uneasily on the deep red leather seat, "seems to be there's not much to say. King has moved country and still he's able to do what he wants."
"Doesn't that anger you?"
"Yeah it angers me," a brief flash of rage flickered in the Detectives' eyes but it was quickly smothered, "but anger feeds mistakes. I won't make any more ....," Jay was relieved as two Waiters arrived to deliver their bags of takeout and quickly rose to end the discussion.

Voight didn't get a chance to press his subordinate on what he was about to say but he had learnt enough to know he was blaming himself for Kings' actions. They had dealt with this topic before but clearly it was still an issue. The Sergeant sighed heavily as he followed the Detective out juggling the warm brown paper bags. He needed to talk to Al and maybe Parker. Halstead didn't know it but he had an army of people on his side who knew no guilt could be assigned to him. The trick was going to be convincing him of that irrefutable fact.