Yes, from the twisted minds of Suisan and Amy, the Twisted Evilettes, we are proud to present our latest effort, Two Years and Sixty-Five Days Too Many.
This story takes place in the Cascade - Grangers A/U 'Verse and, as such, it's our take on the events that 'might have' happened between the end of 'Trust Metric' and 'Hollywood Homicide.'
This story is rated PG-13 and, yes, there is profanity in the story.Both Amy and Suisan would like to thank our beta reader Ely for reading this story and not run screaming the other way when this super-sized story landed (like a ticking time bomb) in her in-box. We would also like to thank our mutual friend, Ruthie, for reading the story as well.
Of course, the biggest thank you goes to Cheryl Hutton and Nick Falacci, the creators of Numb3rs, as well as all the actors and actresses, not to mention all the other people connected to the showwho give such a wonderful playground to play in. Any and all comments, complaints, intelligent criticisms, squeeing, gifts of chocolate, offers of hot Feds in kevlar or soaking wet Feds (or soaking wet, hot feds in Kevlar bearing gifts of chocolate) can be sent to MizDenton earthlink (dot) net or Suisan aol (dot) com. All flames will be cheerfully ignored.
This story is dedicated to the real Jessica Lewis (not her real name), a Coast Guardmedic, and to all law enforcement officers and military personal whomake the sacrifices so the rest of us don't have to. Thank you.
Disclaimer: With the exceptions of Gareth, Cat, Lars, Cliff and Cody Granger, Dr. Adam Mosely, Chief Petty Officer Tristan DeCuna, Petty Officer Jessica Lewis, Dr. Elaine Donovan-Walker and Alexandra Hamilton, all characters contained herein this story are the propertyof Cheryl Hutton, Nick Falacci and Scott Free Productions and areused without permission. This story is written for entertainment purposes only and no monetary profit is being made. Please don't sue us, we're extremely poor – remember, the authors are both college students. Older college students, sure, but just as poor as the younger ones.
And now … on with the story……
34 Hours
1954 Miles
1 Agent
65 Days
Prelude
He slowed down to the posted speed limit as he approached the city limits. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over by a cop or a sheriff's deputy in this town. Not this weekend. There was way too much to do and too little time to complete the self-imposed mission. Things were in motion that made him uncomfortable, like he was living on borrowed time, but breaking operational security was a necessary evil. He couldn't, in good consciousness, not tell the Chief what might be about to happen.
Pulling off of the main drag, he turned the rental car onto Main Street and then onto West Spring. Technically the Police Department and the Valley County Sheriff's Office were two separate legal entities but in reality, the two departments shared a building and a central lock up. The man fairly stumbled out of the driver's seat, muscles and bones protesting the long hours behind the wheel, and he fought not to scratch at the prosethics on his face as he looked up at the Law Enforcement Building through super-dark tinted aviator's glasses.
Shaking off the stiffness, he looked around the lot and spotted the car he'd hoped to see sitting in it's reserved spot. 'Good, I don't have to wait for him to come in out of the field.' Crossing the lot, he walked up the few steps to the front door and pushed in like he knew what he was doing and was more familiar with the place than a out of town visitor should've been. He removed the sunglasses as he stepped up to the reception desk and looked down at the woman sitting there with his brown eyes.
"Can I help you, sir?" She asked, barely glancing up at him from the report she was writing.
"Is Chief Granger in?" He inquired, his voice rough from disuse.
The woman nodded and waved her hand toward the back office on the right side of the joint use area. "Sure is, back that-a-way. Just knock and go in. Slow day, Chief should be happy for a visitor."
"Thank you." He moved beyond her desk, wondering how in the hell the woman who he'd known most of his life hadn't recognized him, but also very thankful she didn't. Knocking on the frame of the open door to the Chief's office, he stepped in when the older man waved him in.
"Can I call you back, Cat? Someone just came in. Thanks." Police Chief Gareth Granger hung up the phone as he rose to greet the man standing in his office. "Hello there, Chief Granger, how can I help you?"
"Can we talk in private, Chief?" When the lawman nodded, the visitor turned around to shut the open door and lowered the blinds on the windows while he was at it. When he rotated back on his heel to face the police Chief, he saw the man had unsnapped his sidearm holster and was lightly resting his hand on the butt of his weapon. The visitor slowly raised his hands as he spoke, "Jeeze, Dad, don't shoot me."
The expression that crossed his father's face nearly made Colby Granger laugh out loud, except his presence in Cascade was no laughing manner. Before his father could blurt out his name, Colby shook his head 'no' and raised a finger to his lips in the classic 'shush' motion. His father came around the desk and pulled him into a bear hug. His voice was conversational in level, but worried in tone. "Colby, it's great to see you, but why are you here and in that get-up?"
Colby removed the ball cap with the long, dark brown wig attached to it, but left the fake mustache in place. "It's a long story, Dad, but you need to know before things go much further."
"Well, if its that long of a tale, let's go to the house so your mother can see you."
"No." That word nearly broke his heart, but Colby couldn't risk his mother – or anyone else other than Gareth knowing he'd even been in Cascade. As far as anyone knew, he was on a requested weekend off so he could attend one of the many Society for Creative Anachronism events taking place on the west coast. "Dad, I'm sorry, but what I need to tell you, Mom can't know."
"Can't know what? Colby James, what's going on?"
Colby sat down on the comfortable couch his father kept in the office, sinking deep into the well worn but supportive leather cushions. "It started when I was in the academy, Dad, and things are slowly moving toward an end game that—" He couldn't complete the thought without explaining a bit more about the background of the whole sordid mess. "Dad? Do you recall me telling you about Dwayne Carter?"
Gareth had escorted his disguised son back out to his car roughly an hour after Colby had walked into his office. The whole family was devoted to serving the public but what Colby was doing…..
The fact that he couldn't even tell Cat their son had been in town and gone wasn't going to be easy. Gareth had done more than his fair share of operational spook stuff while in the Army and knew a slip on his part, or Cat's if he told her what Colby had told him, he could be signing his son's death warrant. The rental car pulled out of the lot and Gareth knew his son was heading back to Los Angeles and back to his mission. Didn't mean he had to like it, but he was also proud of Colby. No Granger, by blood or by marriage, had ever turned down a challenge because it would be difficult. If anything, Grangers seemed to thrive on the adrenaline rush that could result from a well done, and completed, mission or task.
Gareth headed toward his patrol unit, he had to think before going home and there was a nice little spot out on Lakeshore Drive where he could park and ostensibly run radar. This time of day though, there wouldn't be much traffic on the road and he could use the time to come up with an 'excuse' for why he'd been closeted with a stranger for well over an hour.
The drive out to his 'fishing hole' for speeders was pleasant, the weather had just in the last couple of days warmed up into truly summer temperatures and there was a nice breeze coming off Cascade Lake once he parked his unit.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the folded piece of paper Colby had handed him before he left the office and, opening it, started to chuckle. The aerial photograph showed a large patch of ground just on the eastern edge of the city and it was marked with a circle around a darker area of vegetation and a note; "possible marijuana growth." His youngest might not have the brains of the Granger siblings, but he wasn't a slouch in that department either.
Colby had known Gareth would need a reason to have talked in private for so long with someone who wasn't a native to the area and provided a ready-made bust in the process. The land in question belonged to one of the handful of people Gareth and Sheriff Leon Leland suspected of growing and selling dope to the local teens. Now he was holding possible photographic evidence of the growing end of the drug operation, courtesy of his second FBI Agent son.
Gareth winced. If it hadn't been for Cody William recommending the FBI to Colby after he'd gotten out of the Army before the Army could slap an Officer's rank on him – he'd completed a two-year degree in history with a language (Spanish) minor – Colby wouldn't be in the mess he was facing now. Cody loved his work as a cryptographer for the FBI's Intelligence section though and thought, rightfully so, that his younger brother would take to the agency like a duck to water.
He reached for his radio's microphone and keyed it up. "Valley One, you out and about?"
"Roger that, Cascade One. What you got on your mind?"
"I'm out on Lakeshore … why not head this way and find out?"
"Nineteen that way."
It would have to be a joint operation, the suspected marijuana patch was well over a half acre in footage, if Gareth was reading the photo right. 'Might as well do something with the information Colby handed me.' Gareth looked toward the south, in the general direction his boy would be traveling. "Good luck, Colby James."
Explanation of the Numbers at the start:
Hours -- Drive time to and from LA to Cascade with an hour's talking with Dad.
Miles – Round Trip mileage – there and back again.
Agent – D'uh!
Days – Number of days that pass in the story. I added 3 weeks to the five from the 'time lapse' in the show from 'Janus List' to 'Trust Metric' to give CeeJay enough time to get up to Cascade and tell Dad before the arrest a month later. Day 65 would be the day Colby is pulled off that China-bound freighter and 'rescued' by his teammates.
2 Traitors
795 Days
1 Team
2 Nations
Part One - A Mother Hears the Unthinkable
Catherine Granger loved, and hated, days like today when the weather around Cascade was unsettled. Officially, it was spring, but someone had neglected to tell Mother Nature and she had decided that dumping a final two inches of snow on the area seemed like a good idea. Normally, Catherine wouldn't mind, but the unaccustomed dampness added to an unseasonable chill had set her lower back to doing the tango…and that was without her moving any other muscle.
Grimacing as she gingerly sat down in the large recliner after taking her pain meds, Cat turned on the timed heating pad, then the early evening news.Gareth was due home soon and, for once, she didn't have a clue as to what dinner might be, let alone if she wanted even eat. She heard his patrol car pull up the gravel drive just as Fox News opened their newscast with 'breaking news' out of Los Angeles.
Cat's ears pricked up, normally she could care less about what happened in the City of Angels, the City of Hollyweirdness. However, since her youngest son was stationed there with the FBI, she'd learned to at least half-way listen to the Big News out of there.
"In breaking news out of Los Angeles today, it looks like the Federal Bureau of Investigations might want to do a clean sweep of their house. A second agent based in the area has been arrested on charges of spying for a foreign state. Strangely enough, this agent was instrumental in the arrest of the first agent arrested in Los Angeles on the same charges just about seven months ago. Special Agent Colby Granger joined the FBI shortly after his honorable discharge from the Army and, until now, had been considered an exemplary agent. FBI Director Joseph Atwater had no comments and none of our contacts in the LA branch are returning phone our calls. Again, Special Agent Colby Granger has been arrested earlier today on charges of spying for a foreign state. Now, in other news today…"
"WHAT?!?" Cat hadn't really been paying attention, not until she heard Colby's name. Then, she heard it a second time and that time heard the words that shattered her world. "It's a mistake, it's a damn mistake! It's not Colby, there's no way they're talking about my son!"
She flipped the channel over to CNN, "…Colby Granger, a FBI agent in Los Angeles…"
To CNBC, "…Granger was arrested today on accusations of spying for…"
To ABC, "…Once more a FBI Agent in Los Angeles, one Colby Granger, has been arrested on charges of possible treason and spying…"
To CBS, "…A second arrest of a FBI agent on charges of spying for a foreign state. Granger was apprehended by his team leader, Special Agent Don Eppes…"
Catherine hadn't even been aware that she'd gotten to her feet, or that Gareth had walked in and was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, until her legs gave way and he was suddenly there to catch her and help her to sit back down. She wrapped her arms around her husband of 42 years and felt him return the embrace. "Gar… tell me it's a mistake, it's not OUR son, it's not Colby—"
His head moved against her shoulder, in a negative motion. "Sorry, Cat. I heard the news on NPR and tried to get home before you turned on the television—"
She pushed him back so she could look into his face. "Gareth, what are you not telling me? Is this real? Did you somehow know about this before he was arrested?"
Gareth Granger stood up and moved away from her, putting a distance between them that he thought was safe. It was a classic Granger move, even her children had learned it but it had never worked with her. "Catherine, Colby was here, in Cascade, a little over a month ago. He didn't flat out tell me exactly what was going on, but after hearing the news…" Gareth shrugged. "Cat, he's been undercover since the Academy."
"You mean since he graduated Quantico?" It wasn't unheard of for law enforcement to pluck recruits direct out of their training facilities for use in undercover work, Catherine knew this from her own family's background if nothing else.
"No, Cat. He was still in the Academy when he was pulled in for the assignment." Gareth undid his duty belt and hung it on the special hook he'd installed near the computer center he'd built for them before turning back to find Catherine getting to her feet. "Damn it, woman, I've already seen the inside of the clinic enough times today from working stupid accidents, I do NOT want to have to haul your butt in there."
"You knew." Her voice was like ice.
He blanched and flinched as if she had struck him.
"You goddamn knew my son, my baby boy, was somehow shanghaied into some sort of scheme that placed him in harm's way and you Didn't Say ANYTHING?!"
"Baby, I couldn't! CeeJay wasn't sure who to trust when he came to me and he swore me to secrecy – begging me not to tell you in particular – before he would even start to tell me what he thought might happen."
He was a smart man. Gareth was trying to maintain a constant distance between her and him, but he was losing ground. Too many years of chasing down rambunctious boys, or even wringing confessions out of school hoodlums when she taught public school, had given Catherine many fine skills, including how to box a target into a corner.
She watched him, she listened to his protests, but all she heard was that he'd known. "Gareth Grant Granger, you knew our son was involved in something hinky and you didn't think to tell me?" Her voice was low, in tone and vocal temperature it probably would register about –50° -- Celsius.
"Cat – I told you, CeeJay swore me to secrecy, he wouldn't even tell me the whole story, just that he was investigating his old Army buddy as a possible spy for the ChiComs and, if things went south in a hurry, his name might come up in connection to Carter. And not in a good way."
CRACK!
Her hand flew across his face, his head snapping to one side. Gareth was stunned. Never in their 42 years of marriage had she ever struck him.
Her hand stinging, Catherine had heard enough. "Get out."
"Cat?"
"Get out of my house, Gareth."
"You don't mean that—"
Catherine reined in her temper and glared at him. "Yes, I do, Gareth.Get. Out. Before I do something far worse than slap you." She stepped back to let him pass and refused to follow his progress as he gathered up his things and left the house. She didn't hear his patrol unit start up, which was fine, he could stay in the barn or in the old outbuilding she had used as a school for the boys, but he was not staying with her.Not tonight.
She slowly walked over to the cabinet near the kitchen and, after reaching for a tumbler in the china hutch, grabbed a bottle of her favorite scotch and poured a single finger's depth in the glass. Catherine returned to her chair and the heating pad and proceeded to sip the smoky liquid at a deliberate pace.
"My son is not a traitor. My son is not a traitor."She kept repeating the words like a mantra and, when the house phone started to ring off the hook, she was able to totally ignore it. If it was important, or a neighbor needing something, they'd call back or drop by. As it was, she was never answering the landline ever again. All her boys had her cell number and Catherine never went anywhere without it, so her family could always reach her.
She pulled the tiny folded phone out of her pocket and held it in her hand, mentally begging her baby to use his right to a phone call to call her.
He didn't.