Special agent Seeley Booth repressed a sigh and leaned back in his chair.
"I know you did it."
The young blonde man stared at him for a long moment and then a smile began to form at the corners of his lips. It was what broke him. Booth stood up slowly, walked around the table slowly, and leaned into the man's face slowly.
"You will not get away with it."
The young man looked into the special agent's face and knew he could send him over the edge.
"With what?"
Withouth warning, Booth grabbed the man and forced him into the wall with a thunderous thud.
"Listen to me, Bobby. You murdered those two boys and don't mistake me," Booth pushed the man up so he oculd look directly into his eyes. "I will get you."
"Never," the blonde man whispered.
With that, Booth jerked Bobby forward and forced his face to connect with the metal interrogation table.
"Agent Booth!"
"What? He tripped over his shoe. I was trying to help him up."
Bobby knelt forward and and held his nose.
"Man, I'm bleeding."
"Yeah, I'll get you a bandaid for that," Booth said as he walked out.
"Angela, have you eaten at Marsoulles?"
Angela raised her head from the sketch she was working on.
"Marsoulles? That's a high end restaurant. Date?"
"No."
"Is it with Booth?"
Temperence Brennan sighed. Angela and the Booth thing. Would it never cease? He was a good friend and that was it.
"No. Gail Perkins wants to meet with me there this afternoon."
"Wait, wait. THE Gail Perkins? The man who discovered the Larousse Tombs and is probably richer than Bill Gates. You mean that Gail Perkins?"
"Yes," Brennan nodded.
Angela waited for an explanation. Of course, she should have known better.
"Okay, spill."
"Spill what?"
"Why are you meeting with him? Is it some hot sensual animal thing?"
"No, he said that he has a project for me."
"A project?"
"He wants me to go to the village where he found the Larousse Tombs."
"But isn't that what archeologists are for?"
"Well, there are some unaccounted bodies found at the site and he's fairly certain they aren't ancient."
"So, what? You're going to talk about going all the way to South Africa for a month to identify bodies?"
Brennan hesitated and tapped her pen against the desk. Well, Angela was her best friend.
"Actually, there may be a job offer."
Angela stood and walked to Brennan's desk.
"What do you mean a 'job offer?'"
"Well, he told me that he lost his last forensic anthropologist in the bombing explosion in Kuwait three weeks ago and was looking for a suitable replacement."
"Sweetie, you aren't..."
"No. Absolutely not. I love the Jeffersonian."
Angela gave a sigh of relief.
"Good, because I know the Perkins Institute is about as important to England as the Jeffersonian is to us."
"Yes," Brennan chewed on her lip, "yes."