DREAMS THAT YOU DARE TO DREAM Chapter 9 by Missy (missy@lexicon.net) The characters that you recognise from ER are the property of Michael Crichton, Warner Bros, Constant Productions and Amblin Television and to the actors who so marvellously portray them. This is part of the "Dreams That You Dare To Dream" round robin. This chapter is copyright Missy and may not be archived or distributed without my permission. In keeping with the "Dreams" guidelines, this chapter of the story contains no spoilers for season six. Previous parts may be found at http://www.hiley.demon.co.uk/dreams/index.html. Thanks goes to my editor, Carolyn, for her fast-paced editing on this one and to Scotty and Michelle for their suggestions to make the story water-tight. Warning: I have taken some creative licence with the police procedures in this story. For the benefit of readers not familiar with Fleet Street, please be aware that it was once the site of British media, but this is no longer the case. In this chapter's time line, however, it is still occupied by the media. ***** The now familiar roaring sound filled the ears of the group of five travellers, signalling the end of another journey through the vortex of time and space. They were at the mercy of the elements as they dropped out of the interdimensional travel system. Shock ran through the group as they were plunged beneath the surface of water. Carter felt himself being pushed deeper underwater by not only the force of the expulsion from the vortex, but the weight of Kerry. Fear of the unknown and survival instincts kicked in. He released Kerry from his arms and they both swam strongly to the surface. The group all surfaced and the gentle swell of the sea moved them up and down, their heads bobbing above the surface like buoys. "I think this has to rate as the wettest landing we've had so far," Doug quipped, shaking his head to clear the water clogging his ears. He removed the rucksack from his back and was treading water. Doug watched with amazement as the rucksack easily floated on the surface, despite the weight it carried. Whatever these rucksacks were, they were designed to cope with a dip in the ocean. The water was temperate and crystal clear, unlike any they had ever encountered in their Chicago. Several moons shone brightly, each at a different cyclic change, illuminating the sky for as far as they could see. The water sparkled in the moonlight, the occasional swell rising and falling in a gentle crash of whitewash. The slight breeze that brushed past them was warm. In the distant horizon, they could see the traces of dawn already beckoning. "Very funny, Doug," Carol said as she pushed her heavy, wet hair out of her face. "Well, we have to look on the bright side of things. We may be wet, but we're not freezing cold and it's not dark!" "That'd be a first," Carter commented under his breath. Carol smiled. "You have a point, but I would've preferred to land on solid ground," she commented as she trod water. "So would I. At least I wouldn't have to contend with my crutch while treading water." "How far are we from land, do you think?" Elizabeth asked practically. She was grateful that her hair was tied back from her face in a ponytail at the base of her neck. Heads swivelled around, the group resembling clowns on a machine at the circus. They all looked keenly towards the land mass to the south of their position, which curved around creating a bay. From what they could discern, it looked like there was a beach. It was difficult to imagine that this was Chicago and Carol tried to find some familiar landmarks. Despite living her entire life in Chicago, she found that this stretch of sea water didn't bear much resemblance to the Lake Michigan she knew. Kerry had the same thoughts. "I don't think this is Chicago at all. Something's gone haywire with the vortex and we've been dumped in some tropical paradise." "How about we debate it on land?" Carter suggested. "I'm getting tired of trying to tread water with this heavy weight on my back." Everyone responded by beginning to swim. Doug, Carol and Carter chose to swim freestyle while Kerry and Elizabeth decided to use breast stroke. They were so attuned to making their way across the many miles to land that they didn't notice the sound of two powerful outboard motors until the large boat was almost on top of them and sounded its siren once. "This is the Chicago Water Police. Stop swimming and come aboard." The group turned around and found a large boat, with the word 'POLICE' stenciled on its side, approaching them on a reduced throttle. A broad-shouldered young officer with a laconic smile held a megaphone as he maneuvered the boat closer to them. His partner did all the work, removing the detachable section on the side of the powerful boat, replacing it with a short metal ladder that hooked over the side of the boat and into the water. It was only when his partner finished what she was doing that the band of travellers realised who it was - Jeanie Boulet. The two were dressed in blue police uniform - or at least a version of it that suited the warm climate - navy shorts and a light blue short-sleeved shirt with light-weight canvas shoes that could be worn when swimming. The young man jumped down from his high perch at the helm of the boat. Elizabeth and Carol were first on board, followed by Kerry. She passed up her crutch first before taking the steps slowly. A look of surprise flashed across the face of Jeanie, who held a gun on the group as they boarded, when Kerry climbed the ladder. "Move over there," Jeanie instructed, giving a slight nod of her head to indicate for Kerry to go where Elizabeth and Carol stood, their hands handcuffed behind their backs, rucksacks removed and placed in a distant corner. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, Ms. Weaver, but you understand police procedure and all that." The brawny arms of the young man carefully pulled her arms behind her back and slipped on the handcuffs, tightening them with a quick flick of his wrists. Kerry noted the name on his badge. Senior Constable Dave Malucci. He wasn't a double of someone she knew in Chicago and she was glad. This guy reminded her of a school boy troublemaker. He had an easy grin on his face as he joked with his partner about alien immigrants and doing it the hard way. Doug and Carter climbed on board and they were given the same treatment. A small handheld mechanical unit was run over the back of the necks of the group except for Kerry. None of them could work out what the device was or felt any adverse reaction after its use. With their hands firmly handcuffed, they were told to sit on the floor of the boat. Dave easily climbed his way back up the helm of the boat and gunned the engines. Jeanie automatically put her hand out to help Kerry sit down and when Kerry looked up to thank her, she noted the disappointment in Jeanie's eyes before Jeanie also went to the helm of the boat. The look stunned Kerry and her manners were forgotten as she wondered about how she knew Jeanie and Dave Malucci in this world. They saw Jeanie reach for the radio and speak into it, her words lost in the breeze. "Well, I think we can take it for fact that we aren't home yet," Doug commented laconically. "It is midnight, isn't it?" Elizabeth queried, looking towards the horizon. Half the round sun was visible and the sea breeze had picked up warmth. "My watch says 12.40 a.m," Carter commented, looking at his watch. "But I guess we are assuming that the vortex doesn't play havoc with the batteries." "Or the delicate works of a Christian Dior watch," Doug laughed. "And relying on the ability of that third year apprentice, Decor..." Kerry added derisively. "Decor is kitchenware. His name was Dacon," Elizabeth corrected. "Whatever; but if his abilities as a third year apprentice are anything like a third year med student, you do realise we might be in for serious trouble. How many days has it been since we were in Chicago?" Kerry was losing track of what day it was. They were assuming that each time they jumped only twenty-four hours had elapsed, but there was no way to check on this. "Technically, we still are in Chicago," Carol corrected. Kerry gave her a glare, which silenced her four travelling companions. "I never imagined Jeanie as a law enforcement officer," commented Carter, looking up at Jeanie, observing that her back was held rigidly straight and her eyes focussed firmly on the land mass ahead. "Hmm, me either. I wonder why they know you, Kerry?" Carol pondered. "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Kerry ended the discussion. ***** It took thirty minutes for the police boat to bring the group into land. It had dawned on them as the boat motored through the waves that there had been no way they would have made it to land. The thought chilled them all. While their circumstances right now seemed grim, the reality was that they could have been facing death if they had been left in the water. The boat docked at a long wharf which ran out into the bay. Rolling lawns filled the distance between the wharf and a double story blue building. The sign on the second story indicated that it was the home of the Chicago Water Police. There was a reception committee standing on the wharf, their hair ruffled by the breeze. It was an interesting collection of people. There was Maggie Doyle, Mark Greene, Peter Benton and an unknown woman. Maggie was dressed in a police uniform of dark blue pants and a short sleeve light-blue shirt with blue lapels. From the insignia, she appeared to be of higher status than Jeanie and Dave. It was hard to judge exactly what the other three were since they wore suits, but their demeanour reminded the group very much of plain clothes cops. "What is it with this world? Did everyone we know have a sudden revelation that law enforcement was their field of expertise?" Doug asked. "I suppose that's what they'd feel if they came to our Chicago and discovered all their doubles were medical personnel," Elizabeth whispered back. "Hey, Malucci. See you've found some drowned rats," the woman said lightly with a smile on her face. "Yeah, of the alien variety." "Ms. Weaver, you involved in this again?" The Mark Greene duplicate called out to her, a severe warning tone in his voice. Kerry had never heard Mark speak with such authority and condescension. "You promised your father that you would keep your nose clean. Harbouring illegal immigrants isn't new for you, is it?" "It's the first time she's ever had to be fished out of the drink. Technically, she was keeping her nose clean," Peter Benton added with a grin. Mark gave him a sharp look as did Kerry. She may not know exactly what her double was up to here, but she didn't like being the butt of a joke. Her travelling companions exchanged looks, pondering the words 'illegal immigrants'. The boat was secured to the wharf posts at the stern and port. The group were told to get to their feet and were moved off the boat towards the police station. Kerry's hands were released from the handcuffs to enable her to walk with her crutch. There was silence as they all walked up the old fashioned path. Doug found it interesting that the place had a totally different flora with bright flowers and luscious green foliage. He wondered about what sort of fauna existed here. "Through the doors and up the stairs," greeted a man who appeared to be Robert Romano's double, his beady dark eyes shining brightly. Also dressed in police uniform, he carried the air of authority. He held the clear paneled glass door open for them to enter. "Except you, Ms. Weaver. Your father has directed that you are to be driven home." Kerry could hear the tone in his voice, conveying his displeasure at having to follow the commands. "Constable Knight," he called out to a young woman behind the reception desk, who looked exactly like the Lucy Knight of their world. "Yes, Sir?" asked the nervous blonde-haired constable, her voice breaking as she uttered the words. Romano obviously put the fear of God into the young girl. "Would you call Ms. Weaver a taxi? Make sure the driver drops her home," Romano instructed succinctly. He lowered his voice, so that Kerry was the only one to hear the words, "Ms. Weaver, I've had enough of your games. If I am called out once more in the middle of the night, a lift home will not be the end of it, regardless of who your father is." Carter hesitated to move up the stairs, not wanting to have Kerry separated from them in a world that was so different from their own world. The words 'illegal immigrants' rang in his ears. He wondered what made the police assume that they didn't belong, yet Kerry did. ***** The small orange taxi puttered along the cobblestone edged, tarmac road. Kerry was growing impatient as it slowly made its way down palm-tree-lined streets, the large fronds waving in the gentle breeze. Each street the taxi passed through had the same type of single-fronted townhouses adorning each house block with a small strip of garden in which luscious green shrubs grew, the tips covered with a bountiful head of pink, white and blue flowers. While Kerry had found it pretty, it was soon monotonous with no variance in the houses apart from the street number that adorned the brick fence. The driver pulled up outside one of the houses and Kerry assumed it must be the one in which her double lived. She tried to make her way slowly to the door, attempting to have the taxi leave before she had to knock on the door and the truth of the situation revealled. However, the driver had apparently been given strict instructions to make sure she went home and stayed home. Resolutely, Kerry climbed the four concrete stairs to the front door and rang the doorbell. "When did you go out?" Carter asked as he hustled her inside the door. "Huh?" Kerry was surprised to find Carter at her double's home. There were only subtle differences between this Carter and the one she knew - his hair was shorter and a small tattoo adorned his upper arm. "You were in bed only half an hour ago. Why did you leave?" "I forgot something," Kerry answered vaguely, wondering how she was going to get out of meeting the Kerry Weaver from this world. Hopefully, she would be able to dodge meeting her by leaving before she did get out of her bed. "Kerry! You promised that you wouldn't risk anything right now. You've got an illegal immigrant in your basement and the last thing we need is the police or your father on your doorstep." "We might have to move him after what's happened." Kerry realised that her being picked up by the police was going to cause trouble for more than just their own small group. She took a punt on the person being male; she had a fifty percent chance of being right. Whoever was holed up in the basement was now in jeopardy. "John, who's at the door?" Carter looked confused, his head swivelling from Kerry at the door towards the person coming down the stairs. The figure was pulling on a dressing gown and tying a belt around her waist as she slowly maneuvered her way downwards. "Maybe the two of you can explain it to me," Carter commented in disbelief at what he was seeing. The two women were virtually identical. Their hair was cut to the same length and it was only now that they were side by side that Carter was able to discern the subtle differences - the way they held themselves and particularly, the way they dealt with their disability. While Kerry used a cane in her left hand, moving it in synchronization with her bad leg, this other woman used a crutch in her right hand and balanced her weight onto the crutch. The other Kerry let the belt fall from her hands and she flicked her hair back. She looked at Kerry with suspicion, her grey eyes sharp and penetrating. "So who was your mother; the secretary or the personal assistant?" "What?" It was not the question that Kerry was expecting. "Who did my father play around with?" "What do you mean?" "It's not the first time and I'm sure it won't be the last. The problem is that my father has pretty distinctive genes, although you're by far the closest that looks like me." "It's a long story." "Usually, they're quite short." "I don't think you understand. Actually, I'm not sure I would understand if I was in your shoes either. It's only that I'm in the middle of it and experiencing it, that I even believe in it." Kerry watched as confusion flooded her double's face. "What are you talking about? "Can we sit down? It'll take a bit of explaining." ***************** INTERVIEW ROOM ***************** Elizabeth looked around the small room in which she had been left. It was obviously an interview room. A triple deck tape recorder stood at the end of the table at which she sat; two vacant seats were set up opposite her. Jeanie stood in the corner, quietly observing her. She looked at her fingertips, rubbing them against each other. All of them had been subjected to digitalised fingerprinting - or at least what she imagined would be fingerprinting. There had been none of the ink required on their fingertips. Rather, they had their fingers individually rolled on the screen of a small hand- held computer. Mark and the plain clothes female officer entered the room. Tossing a notepad on the table with a bang, Mark dropped his lanky body into the seat, the cushioned cover expelling air under his weight. His partner removed her black jacket and placed it over the back of her chair before sitting down, her right hand pushing back her light brown hair from her face. "I'm Detective Sergeant Mark Greene and this is Detective Senior Constable Mikaela O'Reilly. You understand that you are to be interviewed regarding your illegal entrance into the United States?" Elizabeth nodded her head. "Please speak for the tape, ma'am," Mikaela asked, her accent Chicago born and bred. "Yes." "What is your full name?" Mark asked. "Elizabeth Corday." Elizabeth said, a thread of fear beginning to fill her. She'd never been interviewed by the police before and having it happen on another universe only set to intensify her worry. "What is your date of birth?" Elizabeth responded quietly. "Could you repeat that for the tape, Ms. Corday. You need to speak clearly." Elizabeth repeated her date of birth, enunciating the words clearly. "Where were you born." "Sussex. It's a county in southern England." "England?" "Yes," Elizabeth confirmed. As she answered each question, the answers were not only being taped but also noted down by the detectives. "This morning you were picked up in Chicago Bay. Obviously, you didn't swim from England, so who was your contact?" "I've lived in Chicago for two years." Elizabeth answered the first thing that entered her head. She didn't think that these people would believe her if she told them that a vortex had dumped her and her friends in the middle of Chicago Bay, as they referred to the stretch of water. "You have no identification that gives you any status here. If you had been living here for two years, why were you carrying this?" Mikaela asked picking the rucksack up from beside her on the floor and dumping it onto the table with a bang. Standing up, she tipped out the contents and spread them across the table. "It's not really the sort of items you'd go for a swim with, are they Ms. Corday?" "Ms. Corday, a search of the area where you were found has failed to locate any trace of a vessel. How did you get here?" Elizabeth didn't know how to answer them and debated telling them about the vortex. She wondered how quickly they'd ship her off for psychological assessment when she started. The door to the interview room opened and Lucy Knight walked to the table and whispered something into Detective O'Reilly's ear before leaving the room again. Elizabeth watched as the two detectives briefly exchanged words. "Ms. Corday, you say that you have been here for two years?" "Yes." "Your fingerprints have been run through the TransPol database. There's an international warrant out for your arrest issued last month. It seems that you disappeared from England following the bombing of Fleet Street four weeks ago." "Why would anyone blow up Fleet Street?" Elizabeth was stunned. Her worry had been how to explain her presence in Chicago under difficult circumstances. Suddenly the circumstances had become dire. She had never imagined that her fingerprints would return a positive result. "We were rather hoping that you might be able to tell us." "No. You're wrong." Elizabeth shook her head, denying the words they had just spoken. "You're not going to believe this, but I don't belong here. I don't belong here at all!" End Part 9A DREAMS THAT YOU DARE TO DREAM Chapter 9 by Missy (missy@lexicon.net) The characters that you recognise from ER are the property of Michael Crichton, Warner Bros, Constant Productions and Amblin Television and to the actors who so marvellously portray them. This is part of the "Dreams That You Dare To Dream" round robin. This chapter is copyright Missy and may not be archived or distributed without my permission. In keeping with the "Dreams" guidelines, this chapter of the story contains no spoilers for season six. Previous parts may be found at http://www.hiley.demon.co.uk/dreams/index.html. Thanks goes to my editor, Carolyn, for her fast-paced editing on this one and to Scotty and Michelle for their suggestions to make the story water-tight . Warning: I have taken some creative licence with the police procedures in this story. For the benefit of readers not familiar with Fleet Street, please be aware that it was once the site of British media, but this is no longer the case. In this chapter's time line, however, it is still occupied by the media. . ******************** DETECTIVES' OFFICE ******************** Carter looked around the Detectives' office from his seat in the middle of a sea of three desks. The desks were strategically placed to enable the detectives to discuss their cases, yet still give them enough space to work individually. Files were piled haphazardly on two of them, while the third had files neatly stacked and sorted. The surprise was that this desk belonged to Mark Greene. Carter was amazed that it didn't have the name of Peter Benton assigned to it, as the meticulously clean desk reminded him more of the Peter Benton he knew. After getting changed into the police issue overalls, he had been directed to this room. They had climbed the stairs to the second floor and he been left in the room in the company of a young, dark-haired constable. As the group had walked down the hallway, Carter had a chance to observe the layout of the building. At the top of the stairs to the right, there appeared to be a lunchroom. Their group had been led down the hallway, to the left of the stairs, which had several offices running off it including the one in which he sat. A couple of photographs adorned the filing cabinet in the corner and he recognised the face of Reese Benton being cuddled lovingly by his father. There were no other photographs of people he recognised in the room. He was glad that the Peter Benton of this world also had a love for his son. A map on the wall of the room caught his attention. When they had fallen into the ocean, he had agreed with Carol and Kerry's assumption that there had been some sort of screw up. As he tilted his head sideways and squinted at the map, he realised that there was a screw-up but not in their travel. It appeared that the US was made differently to the one that they all knew. Several chunks of land mass were missing on the map and other areas enlarged. Carter got up from his seat to have a closer look. "Sit down," came the deep-throated command from behind him. Carter froze and sat back down, careful not to make a false move that might be construed as offensive. If anything happened to him, it would spell disaster for all the group. None of them could afford to risk their lives at any time during their travel. They would not only be compromising their own life but that of their companions. Once they got home, it would be another story. While they were travelling, they needed each other. "Mr. Carter, come with me." Mark Greene instructed from the doorway. As they made their way down the hallway, Mikaela joined them, a manila file in her hand. Mark indicated for him to enter the room and to have a seat. "Mr. Carter, we've just had a very interesting conversation with Ms. Corday. How would you like to elaborate?" Mark asked, taking a seat on the opposite side of the interview table. Mikaela followed Mark into the room, dropping the manila file on top of the tape deck. She leaned casually against the wall, her arms folded in front of her as she waited for Carter's response. "In what way?" Carter asked, confused. "Maybe you could tell us how you know Ms. Corday?" "We work together." Carter decided it would be better to state the obvious, thinking that was what Elizabeth would have done. He sat back in the chair, calmly dealing with their questioning. "That's very interesting. And what sort of work are you involved in, Mr. Carter?" Mark asked, putting emphasis on the word work. "I'm an Emergent Physician." "Can you explain that?" "I'm a doctor of emergency medicine." "A doctor? Hmm, are you sure that you don't have any surgical experience?" Mikaela threw into the discussion. "I did do a year as a surgical intern, but then I changed specialities." Carter shifted in his chair and wondered how they had guessed that he had done work in surgery. "It takes a steady hand to perform surgery, doesn't it Mr. Carter," Mark commented. He leaned forward and observed Carter closely. "Yes. But what has this got to do with anything?" Carter was totally thrown by their questioning, unsure where it was leading. "Well Mr. Carter, it seems that your co-worker has been doing some creative surgical work in her spare time in the form of a bomb that wiped out part of Fleet Street." "Elizabeth blew up Fleet Street? You've got to be joking!" "I'm sure the fifty people that were killed wished we were. And our information has it that she had at least one accomplice, if not more. I am wondering where you were on the 27th December last year?" "You think that I'd build a bomb?" Carter stood up suddenly, hands flat on the table as he emphasised his point. "I wouldn't have the faintest idea what goes into making a bomb, let alone how to put one together." "Sit down, Mr. Carter! Sit down!" Mikaela instructed. "Did we say anything about you making a bomb?" Mark asked calmly. Carter sat down slowly, still incensed by the accusation. The thought that he could be involved in any act which would kill someone when he had dedicated his career to saving lives was absurd. "That's what you are alluding to." "You have an interesting history, Mr. Carter," commented Mikaela as she flicked open the manila folder, suddenly changing the subject. "Let's see - you were born in Chicago, earned a M.B.A. at PennsylvaniaUniversity and are the Executive Managing Director of Retrac Consolidated. All above board and nothing out of the ordinary. However, there's your association with Ms. Kerry Weaver, a well-known activist and now you have been picked up in the middle of Chicago Bay with not only Ms. Weaver but also Ms. Corday." "It seems that the company you keep is rather questionable, Mr. Carter. Combine that with the fact that you have just spun us a story about being some sort of doctor and you don't have a M.I.P. It makes us wonder what it is you are trying to hide." ***************** INTERVIEW ROOM ***************** Doug watched Detective Senior Constable Peter Benton and Sergeant Maggie Doyle as they toyed with him. They had gone through the usual questions of his name, age and address. Both had raised their eyebrows in disbelief when he gave his Chicago address. "This morning you were picked up in Chicago Bay. What were you doing there?" "Swimming." "Mr. Ross. I don't think you quite understand the seriousness of this matter," Peter stated blandly. "You claim to have been born in the United States, yet you have no identification - you do not have the requisite M.I.P. A search of the database does not confirm your details." "A M.I.P.? What the hell is a M.I.P.?" "Microchip Identification Process." Doug raised his eyebrows. "Microchipping?" he thought. In their world, it was used as a way of tracking animals, but to have it translate as far as humans was demeaning. To think that a single wave of a mechanical wand would mean the difference between being acknowledged or not. And in the midst of the technology that existed, it would be very easy to delete the existence of a person. "Maybe your little magic wand is due for repairs," Doug suggested glibly. "It is checked daily," Maggie answered testily. "What are these items?" Peter Benton placed several pieces of jewellery on the table in front of him, each encased in a clear plastic evidence bag. "Presents for my girlfriend." "You have an unusual taste in jewellery," Maggie commented with distaste as she observed some of the items. "I like to be original. Wouldn't you appreciate something from your partner which reflects your unique relationship?" Maggie blushed under the query as she remembered crawling out of bed that evening, leaving her partner draped across the king size bed with the satin sheet discretely covering her toned body. "And who is your girlfriend?" Peter asked. "Carol Hathaway." "The dark-haired woman we took into custody with you?" "Yes." "She doesn't have a M.I.P. either. Where does she live?" "With me." "Really?" Maggie decided to lay down their cards on the table. "You do realise that the address you've given us is Police Headquarters? Not very ingenious." Doug gave them a laconic grin. He wasn't about to correct them. "And what are these?" Maggie asked placing the contents of his wallet on the table. "Credit cards, driver's licence and money." "What are credit cards?" "You use them to purchase items that you want." "A plastic card has the power to buy something? Who are you kidding?" "Not you by the sound of it." "Mr. Ross, I don't know if you realise the seriousness of the situation you are in. You have been found in the United States without any legal authorisation. You will be deported; our only problem at the moment is finding out where you came from." ********************* POLICE STATION CELL ********************* Carol was ushered down two flights of stairs by Dave Malucci into a well-lit basement which housed the police cells. She looked around and found that the basement was clean and smelled of seawater. A glance at the light blue wall to her right revealled a small window which allowed the sea breeze to waft in, bringing a breath of fresh air. Two large cells housed two bunks in each and Carol was relieved to find Carter and Doug perched on the bottom bunk in one of them. The other housed two men who were fast asleep under navy blue sheets, oblivious to her arrival. Dave moved her towards the cell which housed her companions and, after removing her handcuffs, he ushered her inside. Doug waited for Dave to leave before asking Carol, "Are you okay?" "Yeah. I'm fine. A little uncomfortable in these clothes." Carol said as she looked down at the dark blue overalls with the Chicago Police insignia on each of the sleeves. She had been provided with the change of clothes before she was interviewed. Carol sat down on the bunk opposite them. "What did they ask you?" Carter inquired. "They wanted to know how we had gotten to Chicago and who had arranged for our transport. Where's Elizabeth?" "We don't know. They're accusing her of being responsible for a bombing of Fleet Street and killing fifty people. I imagine they must still be questioning her," Doug told her. Until Carol had been placed in their cell, he had thought that the police would follow the laws of their own world and keep genders separated. He was relieved to have Carol here, but it placed more worry as to what was happening with Elizabeth. "Bombing Fleet Street? Elizabeth?" "They're accusing me of being her accomplice." "Wow! And I was worried about being deported for being an illegal immigrant. Where do you think she is?" "I'd say they're probably still interviewing her," Carter said hopefully. "What time is it?" Carol asked "8.35 a.m.," Carter said, pointing to the clock on the wall opposite the cell. "So we've got 15 hours 25 minutes before we can leave this world and we've got the small problem of Elizabeth being investigated for murder and Kerry is who knows where." Doug voiced their dilemma. Carter and Carol realised that they were virtually powerless to do anything about their predicament while locked up in the cell. They needed Elizabeth and Kerry to have any chance of getting off this world, and their chances of being together at midnight were becoming slim. ******************** DETECTIVES' OFFICE ******************** "What do you make of it?" Peter asked his partners, sitting on the edge of his seat with his elbows resting comfortably on his knees. "It doesn't make sense," Mikaela said, resting her elbow on the top of the filing cabinet and resting her head on her hand. "Kerry Weaver may have been involved in bringing illegal immigrants into the country before, but they have always been cases of people undergoing intense persecution." "I agree. I don't think she'd get involved with smuggling in someone who had a criminal past." Mark said, twirling a pen on his fingertips and leaning back in his ergonomic chair. "What about that story Corday spun us about being transported from an alternate reality? Is she trying to make us believe that she's a psyche case?" Mikaela ran a hand through her shoulder length hair. "Perfect excuse for the perfect crime," Peter stated. "Are you saying laying the media dead in the street is the perfect crime?" "You must admit that there are several politicians in Europe who would have paid big dollars to have media central blown up," Mark toyed with the idea and wondered who would have paid for Elizabeth Corday to blow up Fleet Street. "She doesn't strike me as the type to carry through a bombing." "What is the type?" Peter asked. "We don't have a lot of experience with bombers here." "Granted we don't deal with killers every day, but why would she take such a way out explanation? It doesn't ring true." "I agree with Micki. Look at our conversation with Doug Ross. He's a real smart-ass. Did you notice how he avoided answering any of our questions?" "He ended up interviewing you from what I hear," Mikaela commented with a laugh. "Very funny. But what person in this day and age doesn't know what a M.I.P. is?" Mark queried. "Someone from an alternate universe," Peter snickered. "It's funny that three out of the four all had the same story about an alternate universe," Mikaela pointed out. "Strikes me that they have all worked out their stories in case they were found," Mark countered logically. "If you were going to work out a story, wouldn't you make it a credible one? And why didn't Doug Ross join in?" "Maybe he had other things on his mind?" "Like a certain Carol Hathaway," Peter said. "He couldn't keep his eyes off her." Lucy entered the room and handed them a couple of printouts. "That woman that you're talking about - Carol Hathaway - was really engrossed with the map in Sergeant Doyle's office. She asked some weird questions about it too." "What sort of weird questions, Lucy?" Mark asked. "Well, she said made a statement that Chicago isn't anything like this and then asked how the changes to the coastline had occurred. I didn't understand what she was going on about." "Did she say anything else?" "No, just kept looking at the map and running her finger over the Chicago area." "Thanks, Lucy," Peter said as the young constable left the office. "Changes to the coastline? What would she mean?" "The only thing I can come think of is Morgan's theory of evolution. Remember how he claimed that the land was originally joined and environmental influences caused the land masses to break up and be formed in the way we know them today." "Yeah, but what why would this Carol Hathaway know anything different from what we know. She's what...in her thirties?" Peter threw his arms in the air and continued, " These people are pulling our legs." "Could be. But they're not our usual illegal immigrants. There's something fishy going on here and I want to get to the bottom of it." Mark said, standing up and getting his car keys out of his desk drawer. "Where are you going?" Mikaela asked. "To go ask Kerry Weaver what the hell she was doing." "That's not going to win you any friends. Romano'll hit the roof when he finds out," Peter pointed out. "She is the key to working out what is going on and I'm not going to let her political connections stop me from finding out what it is. If Romano asks where I am, run some interference for me, would you?" "Yeah, yeah. Okay," Mikaela waved him off. ******************************* KERRY WEAVER'S TOWNHOUSE ******************************* "What do you make of it?" Kerry asked Carter as they prepared a breakfast of bacon and eggs for four people. She was referring to their surprise, early morning visitor. "I don't know. It all sounds pretty way out, but what reason would she have for lying? From her point of view, it'd be more of an advantage for her to claim your father's parental obligations." The doorbell rang. They exchanged glances. Carter removed two of the plates from the table and placed them both in the oven and draped a tea towel over the handle while Kerry deliberately moved slowly to answer the insistent ringing. "Detective Greene. To what do I owe this honour?" Kerry asked flippantly. Mark pushed his way inside and shut the door firmly behind him. Placing an arm against the wall, he barred her from moving away from him, lowering his voice as he growled, "What did you think you were up to? Bringing in five illegal immigrants on one run and having at least of one of them an international wanted criminal! Have you gone mad?" "What the hell are you talking about?" Kerry cringed under the onslaught, never having seen Mark so angry. "Don't act so innocent. You knew that I was angry when the boat brought you in this morning." Mark was infuriated by her blase attitude. "Kerry, are you crazy? You've dedicated so much of your time to providing sanctuary to the persecuted minority. Now, here you are risking all the good work you have accomplished and destroying the possibility of any more. What is going on?" "Maybe you'd better tell him the truth, Kerry," Kerry commented as she came down the stairs. She had been sleeping fitfully in Kerry's bed, trying to catch up on the sleep that she has missed, when the sound of the doorbell had woken her. Hearing the harsh words, she felt that she should help Kerry relieve Mark's confusion. Mark looked between the two women in amazement, wondering if the long, hard night of interviewing suspects had affected his brain. "Mark, come into the kitchen and we'll explain it to you over breakfast. I'm sure you are hungry." She caught his hand and gave it a squeeze. "Do you want eggs and bacon for breakfast? Carter offered, only lending to further confuse Mark. Mark pulled out his gun, "Police. Hands in the air and drop your weapon." Carter was stunned by Mark's reaction and the gun barrel pointed in his direction. He immediately put his hands in the air and let the fork in his hand drop to the floor. It hit the ground with a clatter. "Move away from there and face the wall, keeping your hands in sight." Mark moved across to check Carter for any weapons and then handcuff him. "Mark, you've got it wrong." Kerry's voice was strained. "In what way?" He asked as he patted Carter down. "I left this guy in the police cell right before coming here. How the hell did he get out and where are his mates?" "He's not who you think he is, Mark," Kerry pleaded with him. "This is the John Carter from this world. The one in the police cell is the John Carter from an alternate reality." "Detective Greene, you can see for yourself that there's two of us," Kerry said, pointing out the obvious. "How else are you going to explain it?" "Twins?" Mark was still confused by the identical women. It was virtually impossible to tell them apart, except for the fact that they wore different clothing. "It's not that easy. Why don't you ring your station and ask if Carter's still locked up with Doug and Carol?" Kerry asked him. Mark handcuffed Carter, not trusting him to leave him unattended while he dialled the station on his mobile phone. "Lucy, it's Mark. Can you confirm that those suspects from this morning's retrieval are still in the cells?" He waited patiently while she went to confirm his request. "Detective Greene, they're still there," Lucy told him with a questioning tone in her voice. Mark ended the conversation and flipped the mobile phone closed. He took a deep breath, realising that there was something going on here that he truly didn't want to be a part of. He didn't know what to say. "He's still there, isn't he, Detective Greene?" Kerry commented with a smile on her face. "Yes, he is. As are your other two friends. So, maybe, you can explain this all to me." "What do you mean two? There were five of us. John, Doug, Carol and Elizabeth." "Elizabeth Corday? She's a murderer. She's being extradited to Eurasia to face a grand jury." "What? Elizabeth's no murderer and once you've heard my story, you'll realise there's no way that she could have done whatever it is you're suggesting." "Maybe you had better sit down and explain it to me, then." End Part 9B DREAMS THAT YOU DARE TO DREAM Chapter 9 by Missy (missy@lexicon.net) The characters that you recognise from ER are the property of Michael Crichton, Warner Bros, Constant Productions and Amblin Television and to the actors who so marvellously portray them. This is part of the "Dreams That You Dare To Dream" round robin. This chapter is copyright Missy and may not be archived or distributed without my permission. In keeping with the "Dreams" guidelines, this chapter of the story contains no spoilers for season six. Previous parts may be found at http://www.hiley.demon.co.uk/dreams/index.html. Thanks goes to my editor, Carolyn, for her fast-paced editing on this one and to Scotty and Michelle for their suggestions to make the story water-tight . Warning: I have taken some creative licence with the police procedures in this story. For the benefit of readers not familiar with Fleet Street, please be aware that it was once the site of British media, but this is no longer the case. In this chapter's time line, however, it is still occupied by the media. ************* POLICE CELLS ************* "The food's pretty good." "Hmm, a lovely combination of fresh fruits and cereal. Delicious." Carol commented, enjoying a sweet strawberry. There was a variety of different fruits, some of which she recognised and others which were strange. "Did either of you see the maps of Chicago?" "I caught a quick glimpse, but not much more," Carter told her, wiping his mouth with a paper towel. "I got a good look and Chicago isn't anything like we know it," Carol told them. "There must have been some fundamental change in the environment that has affected the formation of the continents as we know them." "That would explain why there is a Chicago Bay rather than just a Lake Michigan. It probably also explains the difference in the temperatures they experience here. Can you feel that humid air coming through now?" Carter asked. "Yeah. It's becoming quite oppressive." "Don't you think it's unusual that we were picked up so quickly this morning?" Doug had been thinking about it for some time. "Yeah. It was just after midnight and a patrol boat was out." "They're always out," said the weatherbeaten man in the cell beside them. "Why?" "Trying to make sure no aliens get in," he told them gruffly. "Aliens?" "Yes. As in people who don't belong here," the old man explained, exasperated by their incomprehension. "People from other countries like Eurasia." "Eurasia?" "Don't you people know anything?" "Actually, no. Maybe you could explain it to us." ******************** DETENTION CENTRE ******************** Elizabeth braced herself on the metal seat in the back of the police van as it trundled down another street, before making a sharp turn again, throwing her against the wall. Through the small barred window at the back of the van, she could see that the sun had risen and now sat quite high in the sky. Taking a guess, she thought that it might be roughly eleven o'clock in the morning. The fact that she was being moved in the van alone only served to heighten her fear; fear of the unknown and fear of the known. Finding out that her double in this world was a multiple murder had shocked her to her core. This had been bound to happen; that one of them would find their counterpart led an unorthodox or unsavoury way of life. But she hadn't thought it would happen to her. She wondered what was happening to the others. It worried her that they were all separated. While they had been getting on each others' nerves with their close proximity since their journey began, it was worse not to know where the rest of the group were and not be able to make decisions with them. The van pulled to a halt and the rear door opened, letting light into the darkened area in which she sat. "Out you get," came the stern instructions. Elizabeth hunched over as she maneuvered her way out of the van, hands handcuffed in front of her. She blinked in the bright sunlight, adapting to the drastic change. The officer hustled her towards the open door in the tall smooth wall surrounding a large, new building. Her police issue overalls absorbed the heat from the sun and she quickly felt the perspiration forming on her brow. The humidity was extremely high and the air was oppressive. She walked through the double-lock doors and the officer who drove the van stayed outside and she met a new officer. He was heavily built, easily standing six and a half foot tall with broad shoulders and biceps that threatened to burst through his uniform shirt. "Through here Ms. Corday. This is a temporary detention centre where you will stay while your extradition papers are being processed. Now, you will follow our rules and they are basic. What we say, goes. No arguments. My partner here will guide you through the intake procedure and then you will be introduced into general circulation." Elizabeth had no idea what he was referring to and found herself losing touch with reality. Certain aspects of the intake procedure brought her back in touch with her surroundings; the invasive strip search and then the requisite shower which provided no privacy, the eyes of the officer probing her thoroughly. A simple, loose shift and a pair of underpants were all the clothing that was provided. The burly officer returned once she was dressed and escorted her out into the hot sunshine once again where she found a multitude of people. There was a wide diversity in age and nationalities. Many were sitting down, trying to find some shade from the bright sunshine in the small amount of shelter available. Elizabeth tried to keep out of the sun, her fair skin already beginning to tingle under the raw sunlight. It would not take long for her to be burnt in these conditions. She sat down near a small group of people who didn't look too threatening and worried about how she was going to get out of her predicament. ********************** KERRY'S TOWNHOUSE ********************** Mark ran his hand through the small amount of hair left on his head. Sometimes he was surprised that he had any left, with all the worry that Kerry Weaver put him through. And now he had two of them that were currently causing him a heap of trouble. "I still find this extremely hard to believe." "I think I'm rather compelling evidence as is the John Carter who's sitting in your police station." Kerry replied, pushing herself up on her crutch. "We've only got thirteen hours left before the vortex will open." "This vortex that you speak of, would it give off an electrical pulse?" "I don't know." "We picked you up so quickly in the water as your arrival was detected on Polsar. It detects jets, boats and vehicles through electrical pulse." "I guess it must." Kerry noted the different names for what were essentially similar systems to those that existed on their own world. "I think we can manage to get your three friends out of the police cells. Getting access to Elizabeth Corday is going to be more difficult. She's been placed in a secure detention centre." "Elizabeth can't stay in prison for a crime she didn't commit. We can't leave her behind," Kerry told him, running a hand across her brow in frustration. "Besides, all of us need to be together and linked for us to be able to leave this dimension." "It's not that easy," Mark responded. Turning to the Kerry he knew, he pointed out a few facts. "There's also the situation of the man occupying your basement, Kerry. He's trusted you with his life and this could compromise his chance at freedom. Hasn't he suffered enough?" "If they're out of here by tonight, then there should be no problem, Mark," she answered calmly. "Who are you kidding, Kerry?" Mark jumped to his feet and paced the room. "If they disappear tonight, you'll be the first person they'll come looking for. Elizabeth Corday is wanted for murder. TransPol have a red flag out for her arrest - they won't just drop it. You will not only be interviewed by the Water Police, it'll be the Chief Commissioner right through to the bigwigs at TransPol. Your political connections will not protect you." "I agree with Mark," Carter concurred. "You can't sacrifice all the people you have helped and those that still need your help for the sake of this small group." "We need your help. Either way, you're probably going to hit the problem with the police. TransPol would be interesting in knowing how you were *both* linked to Elizabeth Corday," Kerry pointed out, leaning heavily on her crutch. The lack of sleep and early morning swim were exacting their toll and sharp pains were shooting down her leg.. "We really need to find the Elizabeth Corday from *this* universe if you aren't going to be held for questioning." Kerry thought for a moment about the references to an illegal immigrant and to her counterpart's activities, putting two and two together and thinking she came up with four. "How do the illegal immigrants know how to get in contact with you?" "We've got an underground network," Kerry answered simply. She wasn't about to reveal the extent of the network to this woman who, out of her compassion and faith in humanity, she was helping. She was still sceptical about certain aspects of her account of events, but she was convinced that the story was true. "Have you ever had a situation where you have provided asylum by contacting them rather than them contacting you?" Kerry queried her double. "Yes. But we are fairly careful in doing so. You're wanting us to offer asylum to Elizabeth Corday?" "That's the idea." "It might not be so difficult. My network knows that we don't smuggle in criminals, so you would find that any approaches for sanctuary by her would be ignored. I can easily throw open the gates and wait. It might spark some questions, but I'd be able to deal with them." "We don't have a lot of time on our hands." "I'd say that neither does she if TransPol have a warrant out for her arrest. Eurasia is a mess and there are plenty of people who would sell their family for a chance to get their hands on the reward money that is linked to her arrest." "Can we get to it, then?" Kerry was anxious to get off this universe in which all their lives seemed to be in jeopardy, particularly Elizabeth's. ******************** DETENTION CENTRE ******************** A hacking cough roused Elizabeth back to consciousness. She rubbed her eyes and realised that she had fallen asleep. Normally, during their travels, they had had the opportunity to catch up on a few hours rest before they had to be ready for the next jump. The racking cough came again and was echoed in several pockets of the detention centre. Elizabeth pushed herself into a sitting position and found the source of the sound. A young girl in her early teens coughed again, the force of it shaking her thin brown body as she lay on her own in a small circle of shade. The racking cough caused her to wheeze as she sought to catch her breath. Elizabeth got up and went over to the girl, talking to her calmly as she assessed her. The girl had a high temperature, with perspiration beading and running down her face and her cotton shift was damp. She looked around for an officer to get some assistance for the young girl. It was then that Elizabeth noticed that the other people in the detention centre were watching her curiously as she tended to the girl. "Can someone get me some water and a towel?" Eyes continued to watch her, yet not one person moved. Elizabeth cradled the young girl in her arms, placing her in a sitting position and brushing her hand over the girl's long, straight black hair. She noticed that the hair had tell-tale white traces through the hair and she grimaced, glad that her own hair was tied back, out of the way. It was then that she realised that the coughing was coming from different areas of the centre and wasn't an echo of the girl's cough. Looking around, she noticed that there were several individuals segregated from the main group and left alone to bear the burden of their illness on their own. "You can't do anything to help her," A young asian woman told Elizabeth. "She needs antibiotics." "She won't get them. She's an illegal. They won't waste any money on her. It's a case of the survival of the fittest." "What?" "That's the way it operates. Surely you knew that? If you take the risk of illegally immigrating to the U.S., you also risk the chance of being caught and then face the detention centre while awaiting extradition. Though let's face it, she's better off dead, than going home." The woman sat down on the ground beside Elizabeth. "My name's Deb - Deb Chen." "Elizabeth Corday." She gave a small smile as she introduced herself. "What do you mean about life being worse if you return to your home country?" Deb gave her a look. "What? You don't remember?" "Amnesia. Cops hit me," Elizabeth managed quickly. Deb sighed. "Lucky you. Wish I could forget it. It's nothing like the U.S. There's political instability, crime is rife and you are virtually prisoners in your own home. Food is sparse and if you're not high on the tier system, then you're a slave to society. Worse than that, unless you are white and have the right connections, you have no standing. At least here, race and gender and the family into which you're born, doesn't matter. Everyone is treated equally." ******************** DETECTIVES' OFFICE ******************** Romano entered the room with a bang of the door against the wall, his feet hitting the floor firmly. "Where's Mark?" "Interviewing a witness," Peter responded. "What witness?" "From the Zachariah case." "I want him in my office the moment he arrives." "What's all that about?" Peter asked. "I don't know, but I think I might let him know that's something is up with Romano," Mikaela rose to her feet, grabbing her mobile phone. She went outside the police station, standing underneath a tree and dialled the familiar mobile number for her partner. She watched as officers came and went, careful that her conversation would not be overheard. The phone was answered within two rings. "Greene." "Hey, Mark. We've got a situation here," Mikaela said quietly. "It might be best you get back here asap. Romano's on the warpath." "Micki, I need your help." "What?" This wasn't what she wanted to hear. Mark had been treading the line very finely in recent times and now wasn't the wisest time to ignore Romano's demand. "I don't think you'd understand without witnessing it for yourself. Are those illegal immigrants from last night still in the lock-up? Check them before you come and meet me at Kerry Weaver's house." "Kerry Weaver's house? What are you up to?" Mikaela didn't like being dragged into one of Mark's borderline investigations. "You'll understand more when you get here." Mark wasn't sure that was correct, but if he knew Micki well enough, he was sure that she'd be willing to help. "Damn you, Mark Greene," Mikaela swore as the phone went dead in her ear. ************** POLICE CELLS ************** "At least I now understand why people are wanting to get to the U.S. Life must be pretty tough with all that political unrest and persecution of the minority." "What are we going to do? We can't just sit here and do nothing," Carter said. "What do you suggest we do? Use our plastic knives to saw our way out?" Doug responded, shaking his head. "What do you suggest, then?" "We sit here and wait. They can't keep us here indefinitely and that will be our opportunity." "Even if we do succeed in getting free, how do we find Elizabeth and Kerry?" Carol asked. Frustration was beginning to tell on them all as time was ticking away. They had less than ten hours before the vortex would open and they needed to all be together to jump. "I don't know. We have flown by the seat of our pants before, we are just going to have to do it again and work as a team," Doug reminded them. Teamwork. They'd used it all the time until now and they needed to focus on it now, especially since they were short two of their team and had to find them. "What if we're kept here for weeks?" Carter asked. "They wouldn't, would they?" Carol was aghast at the possibility. "We don't know. Obviously, they do things differently here, in case you haven't noticed," Carter pointed out. Mikaela overheard their discussion and didn't bother to go all the way down to the cells as Mark had asked. She'd heard enough to confirm that they were all still there. As she went to leave the station, she warned Maggie to keep a close eye on them. ********************** KERRY'S TOWNHOUSE ********************** Mikaela slammed the door of her car shut, anger making her stand up straight and she strode determinedly up the small flight of stairs. She rang the doorbell and followed it by a rap of her knuckles on the front door. "Micki. I'm glad you're here." Mark opened the door, ignoring the annoyance on her face. "Mark, you are going to get fired. Romano will kill you if he finds out we're here." Mikaela followed Mark through to the lounge area where she stopped in shock as she took in the three people sitting there. "Micki, I want you to meet Kerry Weaver, Kerry Weaver and John Carter." "What? Who? How?" Mikaela was at a loss for words. "Maybe I should do this more often to shut you up," Mark commented flippantly, relieving a bit of the tension. "Now that you're totally confused, keep silent while you hear this story. We have just over nine and a half hours left. Have a seat." Mikaela sat down in the armchair, still shocked by the sight of Kerry in duplicate and a replica of the John Carter she'd left locked up at the police station. "That's why you wanted me to check the cells, wasn't it?" "Yep. Now, be quiet, and then you'll understand a bit more. We need your help on this one." ******************* Several hours later.... ******************** DETENTION CENTRE ******************** Elizabeth sat with the young girl and Deb. She listened to the harsh sound of the girl's breathing as she lay on the ground. It wouldn't be long before her sleeping would deepen to a coma. Between the two of them, they had managed to move all the victims of the virus together in the one area. Over the past few hours, Elizabeth had tended to each of them, checking their pulses and breathing. She tried to ensure that they were replenishing the fluids they were losing, but it was a battle that she didn't have the strength to fight. Right now, she'd never felt so helpless as a doctor. Tiredness flowed over her and she had nearly fallen asleep again, when a sharp kick to her leg brought her back to consciousness. "Get up." Elizabeth looked up, squinting in the sunlight, at the burly guard who had dealt with her earlier. A arm reached down and grabbed her upper arm, dragging her to her feet. "You're wanted in the interview room." There was no chance to argue with him and she quickly realised that it was useless to try to resist. Walkng with him to the building, she was ushered into a room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the sharp change in light. Elizabeth found Detectives Greene and O'Reilly sitting in the interview room. She took the seat opposite them and they both thanked the burly officer, Matt. "Ms. Corday, we've got a few further questions for you," Mark said as Matt left the room. Elizabeth didn't say a word. Mark lowered his voice, "Elizabeth, we've spoken to Kerry Weaver and she's confirmed your story about the alternate universe. While I found it incredulous to say the least, I've found it even more fascinating that I have a couple of people with doubles walking around this place, including you." "You really believe it?" Elizabeth made sure she kept her voice quiet as she leaned forward at the interview table. "Yes, we do. Now, the timing is going to be fairly tight. As you know, you all need to be together by midnight tonight and it's taken some time to locate your double." "Why do you need her?" "We need her for our own safety." "You need a murderer?" "Yes. So that she can take your place here. They won't worry about the others disappearing - although, it won't look good on our records - but, you disappearing would be another matter." "The important thing is that we've located her and now we need to rendevous," Mikaela interjected. "The way to get you out of here is that you have agreed to take us to the person who smuggled you into the country." "To get these guys to think you've agreed to it, we're going to have to do some creative acting, okay? A few arguments during the interview, raised voices, denial before you give in. You get my drift?" Mikaela told her. Elizabeth nodded, hoping that placing her trust with these two police officers was wise. Her instinct told her that this was her only chance. *********************** WATER POLICE STATION *********************** Mikaela pushed open the door and ran up the stairs, giving a quick hi to Lucy when the young constable greeted her. Lucy watched her take the stairs two at a time and wondered if she'd ever have the confidence exuded by the detective. She continued filling out forms at the front desk. She tried to do her best, keeping efficient control of the phones as well as radio contact with all the officers on patrol. The phone rang. "Chicago Water Police, Constable Knight speaking. How may I help you?" "Lucy, I need the Lockstar. Can you get them to pick me up at Fisherman's Wharf?" "Okay, Mark. They're about five minutes away from you." "Right." Mark cut the phone call short. "Was that Mark Greene?" Romano's sharp voice asked. "Uhh. Yes, sir." "What is he up to?" "He's requested the Lockstar to pick him up at Fisherman's Wharf." "What for?" "I don't know, Sir." "Get him on his mobile, now." Romano went up the stairs, annoyed that he didn't know what his detectives were up to. "VKG this is Chicago Water Police Station calling Police Launch Lockstar." "Police Launch Lockstar. What is it, Lucy?" Dave Malucci asked. "Mark wants you to pick him up at Fisherman's Wharf." "What for?" "I don't know. He just wants you to pick him up. Ask him. Over." Lucy was exasperated by the inquisitions of both Romano and Dave. "What do they think I am? His babysitter?" "That's what he needs sometimes," Mikaela commented with a smile as she ran down the stairs and past the reception desk, heading for the police cells. Lucy dialled the number for Mark's mobile phone. "Greene." "Mark, Chief Inspector Romano wants to speak with you." Lucy waited for Mark to make excuses and break the connection, which he had done several times in the past when he wished to avoid the Chief. "Put me through to him, Lucy." Mark decided it would be fine to appraise the Chief of the events, naturally editing them in such a way that he would not be aware of the alternate universe or the fact that there were several doubles of people they both knew walking around. ************** POLICE CELLS ************** Mikaela went into the police cells. Using the usual protocol for police officer safety and to ensure a break- out did not occur, she had Doug, Carol and Carter handcuffed before even opening the cell door. Getting them to sit down on the bunks, she quietly explained to them about what had happened and what was about to happen. "We are going to need our rucksacks, clothing and the jewellery," Doug pointed out. "Yeah. I known. I've already got that under control," she reassured them. Moving them out of the cells, a gun in her hand ready for use, to give authenticity to the story that Mark and she were manufacturing. Sometimes she didn't know why she allowed him to get her into this sort of a mess. She'd become a police officer to uphold the law, to do the right thing. It had amazed her that part of 'doing the right thing' had meant breaking the law. Guiding the three of them down to the wharf, she retrieved the rucksacks which she had brought down before attempting to release them. They only had to wait minutes before they heard the powerful engines of the Lockstar motoring its way through the waves, steaming towards them at a fast pace. Mikaela looked at her watch. Time was running out. Although Kerry had told them that the vortex would open again in twenty-four hours to enable the group to leave, it might be too late to get the group together again considering the current fate of Elizabeth Corday. ************** CHICAGO BAY ************** The police boat cut its way through the rough swell. Mark looked at his watch. They were going to be cutting it fine. They had only an hour to accomplish their plan and it didn't help that not all the people on board were part of the plan. Mark had let Jeanie off the patrol boat when they had arrived at the police station, wanting to reduce the risk of interference as much as possible. The group all sat on the floor of the boat, their hands cuffed in front of them. Mikaela and Mark kept up the pretense of the group from the alternate world providing information on the illegal immigration that was occurring under the nose of the government. It had taken a bit of wrangling, but they had managed to get Elizabeth released from the detention centre as part of the scheme. The woman could act; just how well had placed a seed of doubt in his mind as to whether they were being conned. He hoped not, for the sake of his and Mikaela's jobs. The rendezvous point near Michigan Point was important. Kerry's underground network had come up trumps with the location for Elizabeth Corday. She wasn't in Eurasia or England, but was in U.S. waters. It was unbelievable! She was right under their noses. She'd been smuggled out of England on an old sailing boat and had been trying to use Kerry's network to enter the U.S. Finally, Kerry's network had responded to her inquiries, providing Elizabeth's double with a rendezvous for an exchange. The air was cooling down slightly and the moons were at different points in the sky. It was an idyllic night, stars shining brightly in the clear sky with no sign of any clouds. The group looked up at the surroundings and at the officers that were trusting them. They didn't need to say anything to each other, their faces showing their relief at being back together once again. Now it was all just a matter of being at the right place at the right time. "It's almost time," Mark told them as he bent down in front of them to discreetly remove the handcuffs. "Keep still until the vortex opens, then grab your stuff and each other and go. Don't worry about us." Mark wasn't sure if they would worry, but if he had a double elsewhere, he'd like to think that they'd be concerned about and help their fellow man All of a sudden, the vortex appeared. Dave Malucci's eyes almost popped out of his eyes as he looked at the 'thing' that appeared. The group quickly picked up their rucksacks, tossing them on their backs and Carter picked up Kerry. Linking hands, they stepped off into another phase of their journey. Just before they stepped into the vortex, they heard the put-put of an old sailing boat engine coming around the head. They smiled to each other as they realised that Elizabeth Corday of this world was going to be caught. The small engine on that boat was going to be no match for the power twin engines on the Lockstar. The End.