Disclaimer and notes: Not mine. Thanks to wordwitch, who fed me the Leverage/Sentinel plot bunny back in August. Not beta read. Rated PG, just to be on the safe side. Feedback adored!

The Cascade Job

By Raine Wynd

A Leverage/The Sentinel crossover

"Our target is Frank Casteleno. He owns a chain of coffee stands in Cascade—"

"Sorry, can't do Cascade," Eliot said.

"Me neither," added Hardison.

Parker raised her hand. "You can't make me,” she said stubbornly.

Impatiently, Nate looked at them. "Why the hell not?"

“Oh my,” Sophie murmured. “And here I thought everyone knew about Cascade.”

Hardison rolled his eyes. “See, this is what happens when I don’t do the research,” he muttered. “I could’ve told you Cascade’s no good for people like us.”

Nate barely bit back a sigh. “You were sick,” he reminded Hardison.

Hardison frowned. “When was this?”

“Last week,” Nate said, “when we had to drag you to the nearest emergency clinic to get your fever down, and you were convinced we were undercover Interpol agents sent to arrest you.”

Eliot grinned. “You were completely out of it, man. Couldn’t talk to the computer, either — it rejected all your voice commands and almost self-destructed.”

Hardison blinked. “I don’t — oh, so that’s where last week went. Huh. But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have asked me earlier today!”

“I’m asking now,” Nate said levelly. “What’s wrong with any of you being in Cascade? We’ve been to other cities where any one of you is known to the cops -- hell, you’re all on Interpol’s wanted list, if not every other major police agency I can think of.”

“IYS Insurance never had an office in Cascade, did they?” Sophie asked.

Nate thought, then frowned. “Briefly,” he said. “There were a number of underperforming offices that were closed during the ‘80’s — why? No, better yet, what’s there that you all want to avoid?”

Eliot, Hardison, and Parker traded looks. No one budged.

“Give me that,” Sophie demanded, reaching for the wireless keyboard on the table. Hardison pulled it out of her reach.

Rolling her eyes, she said, “So, did you all get snagged by Ellison?”

“Hey, it was one night in a hotel, I was just trying to enjoy myself, I don’t know who the dude was that fell out the window,” Hardison began. At the derisive look Parker gave him, Hardison backpedaled. “Okay, so maybe I stepped out of the way.”

“Yeah, you’re such a nice guy,” Eliot drawled. “You didn’t do your homework on that one, did you?”

“Look, it was twelve years ago, man,” Hardison excused himself. “You try scamming some militant whackjob when you’re eleven and see how good you are. How was I supposed to know he was expecting someone older? Didn’t think the cops would show up so fast. Man, that town’s wired. Parker, the Drummond Cross was you, right?”

Parker made a face. “Those records are sealed,” she said.

“So that was you,” Hardison crowed. “Man, that caught my eye. ‘Girl, 14, suspected of attempting to steal the Drummond Cross from the Cascade Art Museum while on a school field trip.’”

Eliot raised an eyebrow. “That the first time you tried for something that big, Parker?” he asked.

“No,” Parker said, pouting. “First time I got caught. And it wasn’t even the cop; it was his partner, Sandburg.”

“Who?” Nate said, starting to get irritated. “And how do you two know about this?” he asked, looking at Sophie and Eliot.

“Come now, Nate,” Sophie said soothingly. “You know how this business works. You hear things, like how the Vatican guards its treasures but not its guards, and how inviting Cascade looks...until you look at the headlines and see that every time someone’s tried for some big score, they fail.”

“Sunrise Patriots tried twice,” Eliot said, “and they lost, both times. Every major crime family’s got a presence in the city, but it’s all small potatoes stuff now. Nobody messes with Cascade unless they got a death wish.”

“Yeah,” Hardison agreed. “Cops there act like they got some kind of secret weapon, and maybe they do. Sandburg got to you, huh, Parker?”

“He gave me a teddy bear.” Parker looked bewildered. “I lost mine.”

Hardison looked rueful. “He tried talking about video games with me,” the hacker said.

“What, they bring out the big guns, then?” Eliot asked.

“They brought out something,” Hardison said. “The two detectives talking to me acted like they were dead certain I was hiding something from them.”

“Ever see this guy?” Eliot asked, taking the keyboard easily out of Hardison’s hands and typing in a name. The computer screen filled instantly with an image of a man with piercing blue eyes and a square jaw.

Hardison looked surprised. “Yeah, when I was leaving. Didn’t say anything to me.”

“Who is he?” Nate asked.

“What’s the deal with our client?” Eliot asked.

“Nicole Hoskins said she was hired to manage the coffee shops for Casteleno,” Nate said, glancing at his notes. “She claims Casteleno is taking advantage of the girls by pressing them to wear pasties and lingerie, which is above and beyond what a ‘bikini barista’ is supposed to be. Now, many of these baristas are under 21...some are as young as 16. She protested, citing the city’s public decency ordinances and the age of the employees. Within hours, she was carjacked and beat up.” Nate paused. “Nicole also claims that some of the girls were encouraged to work for ‘extra tips’ by flashing customers, playing ‘games’ with whipped cream, and other acts better suited to a strip club or some back alley motel.”

“I don’t see where we can go after Casteleno,” Sophie murmured. “Nate, Cascade or not, I’m not seeing where we’re going to apply the leverage to get what Ms. Hoskins needs. Have you been drinking again?”

Nate glared at her. “Don’t make me wish I was,” he muttered. “Listen, Cateleno’s slime. Hardison, I need you to track his money. We need an angle for this. Sophie --”

“I’m not going back,” Parker suddenly shouted, coming to her feet. “The teddy bear’s mine.”

“Dear, I don’t think he really wants it back,” Sophie said gently. “Now see what you’ve done, Nate? You’ve upset Parker.”

The former insurance investigator groaned. He had to quickly turn this around, or else Sophie would be too busy mothering the mentally fractured thief to be useful. “Fine,” he ground out. “But I don’t want this to drop just because you all are scared to step foot in Cascade.”

“Fear has nothing to do with this,” Eliot growled. “I owe Ellison a favor.”

Nate stared at his resident infiltrator, surprised. “I thought you said you don’t owe anyone anything.”

Hardison looked at Eliot with interest, even as his fingers flew over the keyboard. “Ranger oath?” he asked, even as the big screen on the wall shifted from the image of Frank Casteleno to a recent newspaper article on one side, two photos on the other. “Cascade PD to Present Special Achievement Award” read the headline.

“No, my own,” Eliot confirmed quietly. “I don’t mess with cops or their families if they’re doing what they’re supposed to do.”

Nate read the article as his team did the same. It detailed the presentation of a special award to one Blair Sandburg, PhD, recognizing him for his positive attitude, willingness to take on work, determination to create harmony between diverse communities and the police, bravery under fire, and his significant contributions to the arrest and detection rate within not only the Major Crimes department, but across the entire police force. The article went on to list the other awards presented at the same dinner, including “Cop of the Year for the sixth time to Detective Jim Ellison.”

“Guy at the top right is Ellison,” Hardison clarified. “Ex-Ranger, shot down in Peru, declared MIA for eighteen months. Joined the Cascade PD March 19, 1991. Since 1994, he has had an amazing arrest and conviction record — the highest of any cop in the Pacific Northwest, possibly the entire country. Now, ever since my little run-in in Cascade, I’ve kept an ear out — and it’s like Sophie said: every time someone tries to hit the city with some major crime, they only get so far and they get caught. Word has it, the reason Ellison’s so good is his partner, Dr. Sandburg. Sandburg is an anthropologist.” Hardison tapped a few more keys, bringing up Sandburg’s official police ID. “Special Consultant” was listed as his title.

Nate eyed the screen. “Special Consultant? That means he’s not a cop.”

“Not necessarily,” Sophie observed. “It wouldn’t take much for a police force to require someone to attend an abbreviated version of the police academy but give them a title that allows them to be perceived as a civilian. Rather clever, I’d say, especially when working with people who’ve learned to distrust the police.”

Nate sighed again. His idea of a job that would take them out of Boston and allow some of the heat on them to die down a bit was fading by the second. Clearly, Sandburg and Ellison had impressed his team...and they weren’t the sort to impress easily. “So what you’re telling me, then,” he summarized, “is that you don’t think you could pull off a job in Cascade because of two guys? They’re just cops.”

Hardison glared at him. “Cops with a stacked deck, man. I’d rather send them the file on this Casteleno guy than go to Cascade with the intent of doing something.”

“You were eleven. They wouldn’t recognize you,” Nate argued.

“They would me,” Parker spoke up glumly. “I haven’t grown that much.”

“You’re the perfect size,” Hardison assured her, adding quickly when he saw the flare of anger on her face, “Me, I wouldn’t fit in the spaces you do.”

She brightened immediately. “Maybe you could try next time.”

“Children, flirt on your own time,” Nate reminded them crossly. “Stacked deck, how?”

“Forces of nature,” Hardison said. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, man, Shakespeare was right.”

“Yeah, and aliens are real,” Nate returned. “Who is your counterpart on the CPD?”

“Hey, nobody can match me.” At the disbelieving look on Nate’s face, Hardison admitted reluctantly, “Alec Summers, aka Ghostfreak. Total nerd — has degrees in anthropology, criminology, and computer science, and he’s one of the top ten all time players in the Cyberathlete Professional League. FBI tried to recruit him and he supposedly told them no, he wanted to work with the Cascade PD.”

Nate mulled this over. “You’re not upset he beat you?”

“Aw man, it was just a friendly game,” Hardison tried to evade. “He wasn’t going to hold it against me.”

“For as long as you didn’t try anything in Cascade,” Eliot finished knowingly. “Sophie, why are you avoiding the city? Grifters can work anywhere.”

“Is Megan Conner still working for the CPD?” Sophie inquired.

Hardison tapped a few commands. “Looks like it,” he confirmed, as the computer screen switched to a newspaper article declaring “Former Exchange Officer Accepts Offer to Join CPD”, dated May 2000, while the second half pulled up a current photo ID.

“Then I really shouldn’t,” Sophie said. “Nate, I love a good challenge, but Connor knows me. She arrested me in 1996 in Sydney by playing my game. I thought she was a mark. Instead, she played me.”

Nate knew he could make a few phone calls, assemble another team, but he was reluctant to break up the ties he’d forged with this one. They’d saved him from losing himself in alcohol; they kept him sane, even if they did drive him crazy, especially Parker. “All right. Hardison, assemble a package to send to Ellison, and make sure we stay clean.”

Nate pretended to ignore the sigh of relief that swept through the team at his words. “That said, I believe we have a couple more potential clients on the West Coast, and we could do with a trip out of Boston. The cops here have so far been grateful to let the FBI handle things regarding us, but we ought to lay a bit low for a while.”

“I’m on it,” Hardison confirmed.

“Let me deliver it,” Eliot spoke up. “I can always meet you in Portland.”

“How’d you know I’d pick Portland?” Nate asked, surprised.

Eliot shrugged. “Lucky guess. Either way, you'd feel better knowing he got it, and of the five of us, I'm the only one he's not likely to know."

“And you’re out of that coffee you like,” Parker piped up. “I can get you more,” she volunteered, starting to rise.

“Sit down,” Nate ordered wearily. “I can buy more later. It’s not that great of a brand that I can’t wait, and I know how you acquire things, Parker. Eliot, good idea, and let me know if Ellison won’t handle it. We’ll go from there. Now, about that job in Portland....”

The end?

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