Cut and Run 1 - Cut and Run

pain that went through him at that thought. Zane . His mind was foggy, and he tried desperately to rally. “Garrett's not gonna be amused by this,” he told the man, trying in vain to squeeze his hands through the antique shackles. They were far too tight, though, and the rough metal cut at him as he tugged. “You picked the wrong one to play with."
    "I don't think so,” the man answered, his voice bouncing off the subterranean walls. “You're much more dangerous than your partner, you see. He's an addict and an alcoholic, and you were the only thing keeping him from fucking himself into the ground. You and I both know it.” The voice sounded oddly pleased.
    Ty felt himself go cold as he listened. The man knew them well, almost as if he had been with them through their personal struggles. And Ty knew this man had no intention of leaving Zane alive, either. Ty had just been picked off first because Zane was hurt.
    "Did you see my welcome back present?” the voice asked abruptly. The question made him sound almost hopeful, like he was trying to please.
    Ty was silent, listening to the odd scraping sound as a violent shiver went through him. “I did,” he finally answered softly, sensing that talking about Zane would get him nowhere. “I especially liked the confetti."
    Another soft laugh greeted his words. “That took a lot of planning. I wanted you to know how much I appreciate people who paid attention.” There was a thoughtful pause while the scraping “work” continued. “Shame. If you hadn't found my file so quickly, you would have been able to keep going."
    "Your file?” Ty asked hoarsely.
    The man hummed in response. “I'm in that little stack you have; Baltimore ‘01,” he answered regretfully. “I understand you're the one who caught on to Poe, as well. Bravo, Ty, I must say. I expected Zane to get it first, him being the brains of your operation and all."
    Ty frowned. If he knew about both the files and the fact that Ty, and not Henninger, had been the one to figure out Poe, then he had to have taps. Probably all over the Bureau.
    "You're still trying to solve it, aren't you, Grady?” the distorted voice asked in amusement. “You were enjoying yourself, weren't you? Maybe not your partner, but you were loving this case,” he said with confidence. “Where did you stash Special Agent Garrett, by the way?” he asked slyly, as if he might have already known the answer. “I do hope he's safe."
    Ty swallowed heavily and licked his dry lips. As their conversation continued, the man still sounded completely sane. That was possibly more frightening than even his situation. It would have been easier to deal with him if he had been delusional or something.
    "He's safer than you are,” Ty murmured, cursing his earlier stupidity. If he'd been thinking clearly he would have told the man Zane was dead or severely injured from the wreck. Now, he had practically sealed Zane's death sentence as well.
    The scraping stopped, and the voice that responded was one of pure sympathy. “He's hurt, isn't he? He's hurt, and you left him behind to go work on the case, didn't you, Grady?” He tutted in disapproval. “You just couldn't let it go, that need for revenge. Oh, don't be surprised. I knew about you and Sanchez. He found the Baltimore connection, too. He even put a call into his old Recon buddy Ty Grady down in Maryland to ask him about it, but you never answered your phone, did you, Ty? You've been wondering what that call was about since you got here, haven't you? You weren't there for Sanchez, and you won't be there for Garrett."
    Ty closed his eyes and lowered his head, pain lancing through his chest at the killer's accusations.
    "Ah. You did leave him, didn't you? Embarrassed, are you? That's no way to treat a partner. You should be ashamed of yourself. What will he think when you don't come back? He'll think you abandoned him; left him because he was worthless."
    Ty licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He swallowed with difficulty and then tried again, managing a hoarse, “I'm sure he'll be relieved to be rid of me."
    "Hmmm. I'm not sure I believe you, Grady. Who else will he work with? Who else would work with him? He's a loose cannon.” There was a soft chuckle. “But then, so are you. At least you're firing real ammunition. He'll be even easier to take care of without you around."
    Again, Ty was silent, and the odd sounds started up again. It was a slow,