Worse Than Anything

They had them. The bastard had his family and there was nothing he could do about it.

He jumped at the touch of a hand on his shoulder and looked up into a sympathetic face. "We'll get them out, Pelach. We're the best there is. We'll get these guys. We always do."

Pelach nodded automatically at the reassurances and his teammate walked on. The words might be true, but they didn't change the fact that it was the people he loved, the people who _counted_ on him, who were at risk. And they didn't do anything to qualm the choked back horror at the thought that it was his wife and his kids on the line this time.

When it was your own family, even the best there is just isn't good enough.

OSIR (Operative-Specific Incident Report) [To Be Filed By Grade 3F Personnel And Above Only. Original to Personnel, yellow copy to Director, pink copy to supervisor, green copy to Personnel Folder.] Operative # 0132-24601 - Pelach Incident File Reference # 4627-747 Incident Date - 27 Sept 1990 Filed by Assistant Director Petra Report Date 28 Sept 1990 This report documents the incidents surrounding the 27Sept90 removal of suspected drug kingpin Uriah Olveras Cox (file reference # 4627-747) as they relate to Operative Pelach (#0132-24601). Although standard procedure dictated that Operative Pelach be excluded from the assignment on grounds that the personal nature of the incident might impair his judgement, Cox specified Pelach's presence as a condition of negotiations. Thus an exception was made...

Pelach looked up at the abandoned warehouse. Only a few jagged shards of filthy glass remained in any of the double row of windows around the top of the structure. The agents and operatives had the place surrounded, their suits and cars, and equipment all shades of black and darkness against the dead gray of weathered wood and cracked concrete and the dull browns of standing fields of dead weeds.

He was in there. Cox, the bastard that had his family was in there, and it was up to him alone to get them out.

Not strictly true, of course. Cox, predictably, had given them no time to get set up. Even more predictably had insisted he come in alone. But Pelach was wired to the rest of the team. Whispered into his ear as he strode through the doors was the comforting buzz of a mobilized, well-trained team. He had only to give them time.

['Moblize scanning teams to the perimeter. Now.' 'Copy that...']

And not to think of the lives that hung in the balance, of what would happen if....

The sight of Cox made a wonderful distraction. Wisps of greasy hair, streaked liberally with gray. A hawk-like nose and thin tight lips in a bony face. A small frame and rumpled appearance that belied the absolute power those dark, hard eyes wielded daily over life and death.

In his six months undercover Pelach had seen what horrors those eyes were capable of watching over. It was time for this to end.

['Enemy targets identified at points three, nine, and twelve.' 'There's one on the roof-- he's down. Repeat, roof target accomplished.']

"Cox!" He called out, short and loud, the sound echoing satisfyingly from all sides as he stayed out of sight behind a row of empty crates.

"Jonas!" Cox called out, looking vaguely about for the source of the voice, seeming undisturbed not to be able to locate it. He was standing there in the center of the warehouse floor, stance casual, hands thrust into his pockets-- for all the world like he was meeting an old friend for a chat.

[Target at point three eliminated.' 'Copy' 'Sir, target at point nine is down.']

Pelach kept his eye on those pockets and both hands on his gun.

"Or should I say 'Operative Pelach'?" Cox inquired amiably.

"Operative Randel had a big mouth," Pelach hissed, speaking one direction while moving the other, his eyes never straying from Cox.

"Even bigger now," Cox agreed, and Pelach flashed on the memory of Randal lying in a back alley with half his face blown away. Turned out quiet little Randal had been feeding their secrets to Cox as well as Cox's secrets to them. What the hell Randal had been planning no one knew yet, and it would likely take months to unravel all the conflicting evidence. But what was clear already, was that at the same time his cover had been blown, Cox's empire had started coming apart around him.

Leading directly to this mess.

[Target at point twelve contained. Scanning team reports infrared picking up possible hostages on basement level.' 'Verify hostage status?']

He was directly behind Cox now, concentrating on the back of his shiny head to keep from listening to the pause in radioed reports. It was too long, it was much too long....

['Sir, scanner team reports readings consistent with one adult, one child, one infant in basement storage room marked 3A on the blueprints. Figures are separated and not moving, but alive. No other life signs in the area.' ]

Pelach hadn't realized he'd stopped breathing until he started again. He'd tied them up, the bastard. What kind of monster tied up a four-year-old girl?

['Get a team down there now.']

With an effort, Pelach got himself under control. He didn't need to get himself carelessly killed out here now. They were alive. They were safe.

And Cox was _his_.

['I'm outside the door and I can hear them, sir.']

So could he. He'd never thought the muffled sound of the baby screaming his head off could be so sweet. He could hear other strangled noises. The bastard had gagged them too.

"It's over, Cox. Put your hands on your head." Pelach suprised himself with the words, so very at odds with the desire to put a bullet straight through Cox's greasy head.

Still turning uncertainly, the slight smile still playing on his lips, Cox slowly slid his hands free. "I still have the hostages, Pelach!" He challenged the wrong side of the warehouse floor in a mocking sing-song, a definite flash of metal in his right hand.

"You've got _nothing_," Pelach retorted clearly, stepping out from behind the boxes.

Cox whirled around, finally startled, armed hand first. Before he had time to think about it, Pelach's instincts kicked in, getting the drop on Cox. One shot, lower left chest, straight through the heart. Cox didn't even have a chance to look surprised.

As Cox dropped, still spinning, his grip went slack. And in the same instant Pelach realized that it wasn't agun Cox had held, a muffled thud reverberated through the building.

['What the hell was that?' 'Unknown, sir. It appears to have come from the storage room. ']

It was a small black box with a transmitter antenna. Cox had rigged something. He hadn't been armed to shoot Pelach, he had armed himself to threaten him. To threaten the hostages. To use them to get out....

['The door is locked and barricaded, sir. We're gonna need something to break it with.']

...with a dead man's switch. A small red button designed to trigger that threat when it fell from a lifeless hand.

['Can you still hear them?' 'I... I think so, sir.']

Pelach was running, blindly, unable to accept or comprehend. The earpiece lay unheeded spitting static and sound by Cox's slumped corpse.

['We've got it, sir! We're in... Oh my _God_....']

When operatives forced the door, they found all three hostages dead. It was later determined that, in addition to binding and gagging both the woman and the child and wrapping the infant tightly in a blanket, Cox had fastened cordage to each hostage's neck. When the radio-controled switch was triggered, a section of the floor was designed to give way, effectively hanging all three victims. Due to the difficulty in obtaining access to the room, operatives were unable to assist the victims in a sufficiently timely manner. All three victims were declared dead at the scene.

He couldn't look. not at the faces. The half-glimpsed images of red, bloated, distorted features caught involuntarily with the corner of his eye would haunt him to his grave. He must have looked at first, if only to understand what had happened. But he couldn't remember. Didn't want to remember.

All he could see was the glint of light off her ring as she swung slowly back and forth.

Operative Pelach became immediately unresponsive and shortly thereafter attempted to leave the scene suddenly and without explanation. Overcoming attempts to restrain him, Pelach was last seen leaving the warehouse at approximately 2:38pm, in his assigned vehicle at an extreme rate of speed. Operative Pelach's current whereabouts are unknown, and attempts to locate him are being made at this time.

29 Sept 1990 OSIR Addendum: Forensic reports have at this time been able to verify with reasonable certainty that the remains of the vehicle involved in a single-car collision at the abandoned PumpCo gas station at 18th and River Roads are indeed those of the car last assigned to Operative Pelach. Investigators have concluded that both the isolated location of the incident and the precision with which the vehicle struck the free-standing fuel tank suggest that the collision was a deliberate act. No eyewitnesses to the collision itself were available, but several bystanders, drawn by the sound of the explosion, reported having seen a man they later identified as Operative Pelach drive past them moments earlier in an agitated manner and at a high rate of speed. Due to the size and nature of the resultant explosion, which destroyed the station buildings, as well as a small shed on an adjacent property, little forensic evidence remained for examination. (Copies of the River County Sheriff's accident report, the final forensic report, witness statements, and relevant personnel forms are attached.) In the absence of conclusive forensic evidence of a body (which is unlikely, due to the circumstances), Operative Pelach (#0132-24601) has been formally classified as Missing, Presumed Dead. However, based upon the evidence gathered by the forensic team, the witness statements, and interviews with operatives who knew Pelach and with those present at the above warehouse incident, it is the department's conclusion that Operative Pelach be regarded as a death by suicide, brought on by the murder of his family, as chronicled above. Operative Pelach was well-liked and highly skilled. His loss to the department and our missions will be great, and he will be sorely missed. <signed> Assistant Director Petra

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