Disclaimer:Numb3rs isn't mine, and 'Chinese Box' is the product of Ken Sanzel's mind.
Author's Note:Thank you all for the feedback, which was both helpful and encouraging. Sorry for the delay; a brother attempting to shove crushed ice down your back is distracting. He's watching Brave-heart right now, so some respite (but he better not get any ideas…)
[puts on negotiating hat
No Quarter
II
"Mr. Blakely, this is Agent Megan Reeves." As Megan spoke, she could see the reaction of the hostage taker on the flat screen in front of her: Scrunched up eyes, increased tension in the shoulders all told her that the intrusion wasn't welcome. Tough. "To talk, all you need to do is press the call button." When Blakely made no indication of moving towards the panel to respond, she continued: "First things first, Mr. Blakely, I want you to understand that we will do whatever possible to resolve this situation peacefully. No one else needs to get hurt. Now, you said downstairs that your actions were out of self-defence. Care to explain?"
On the screen, the figure that was Ben Blakely shuffled sideways towards the panel and reached out with one hand to punch the call button, all the while keeping his eyes on Don. His voice, however, came through the speaker phone Megan had employed for the conversation:
"I don't want to talk right now; I just need time to think," said Blakely.
"That's all very well, Mr. Blakely, but I'd really prefer it if you'd not point a gun at Agent Eppes in the meanwhile," responded Megan.
"He's fine," replied Blakely. His next words were quieter, directed towards Don: "Tell them you're fine."
Don complied: "Everything's all good in here, Megan."
Megan knew Alan and Charlie were standing behind her; their reflection could be seen in the flat-screen if she squinted hard enough. They were close enough to hear the dialogue, but kept a respectable distance from the SWAT leader Tim King and Colby. At Don's words, Megan distinctly heard Alan sigh. If she had to guess, she would say it was because of Don's ability to describe a hostile situation, such as the one he was in at the moment, as 'all good'.
"Satisfied?" asked Blakely. Without waiting for an answer, he began to reach towards the camera. "Now, I don't like being watched, and I'll talk when I feel like talking." And within moments of each other, he pulled the wire from the camera, turning the picture on the flat-screen dark, and punched the call button, effectively bringing his side of the conversation to an end.
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Don watched passively as Ben terminated contact. It had been a perfect opportunity to act; Ben's eyes were elsewhere, his grip on the gun slackened, and he was occupied, if only for a tiny moment. Yet, Don had resisted. He couldn't bring himself to shoot the man, and an attempt to disarm him physically might have resulted in Ben's gun accidentally going off, and in such close quarters, with the walls of the elevators as they were, both were vulnerable to ricochets.
"Turning the camera off is just going to make them more jittery, Ben," admonished Don. Especially Charlie 'I Need More Data!' Eppes, he thought.
"Yeah, well, I'll take my chances," replied Ben.
Don licked his lips before speaking. "What did Devane do to you that made you think you had to shoot him to protect yourself?"
"He had people watching me, following me, all the time. He wouldn't stop. Do you know what it's like? To not have any privacy, not know who's spying on you?" Ben asked.
"Well… not personally, but I'm sure half the celebrities in L.A feel your pain. But the thing is, I don't see them shooting the paparazzi."
Ben snorted. "You're comparing my problem with that of some flashy, anorexic stars? I just wanted to be left alone. I did the surveillance for the FBI; Devane had no right to turn it around on me."
"Why didn't you come to us, then? If you're so sure that Devane was in the wrong, why not report him? The FBI consists of more than one agent, you know," said Don.
Ben shook his head, becoming agitated. "As if you'd believe some sub-contractor over an agent."
"Actually, Ben, we would have investigated. You work in this gig long enough; you realize that not everyone wearing a gun and badge deserves it."
"One FBI agent already screwed me over; destroyed my life's work. What makes you think I'm going to trust the likes of you again? You'll just cover everything up; protect your own," challenged Ben.
Don sighed, resisting the temptation to run a hand through his hair. At the moment, he needed to focus on steadying his weapon. He was actually quite surprised that Ben had managed to keep it steady as long as he had; it took experience and practice to get used to holding a weapon up for long periods of time.
"Over the summer, we found evidence that one of my team-members was a spy, working for the Chinese. He was in prison for almost two months, and he nearly got killed before we figured out that actually, he was on our side all along." Don smiled sardonically. "You know, I can't really say anything to make you trust a fed, but believe me when I tell that, for all that we dislike losing face, we hate being betrayed more. And if Devane is guilty of something, than he's no better than the people we go after."
Ben chewed his lip, his eyes wandering. He did not respond directly to Don's revelation, instead choosing to comment on something completely different: "It's really getting hot in here, isn't it?"
"Yeah, well, elevators aren't exactly designed to be waiting rooms for hours on end, Ben," replied Don. His eyes followed Ben's who had looked up as if to find the air vent and had frozen. He stifled a groan upon seeing the camera the SWAT team were trying to snake in. He tightened his grip on the gun when Ben hit the call-button and brought his own gun up to point at Don's head.
"Agent Reeves!" he snapped.
Megan's voice came through immediately: "I'm here, Mr. Blakely."
"What part of 'not wanting to be watched don't you people understand'?" Ben bit out. "Pull it. Pull it now."
"Mr. Blakely, just calm do-,"
"I will not calm down; do not tell me to calm down. Pull it now, or in ten seconds you watch me put a bullet in your friend's head."
Don felt this was more than an appropriate time to jump in: "Ben, you're over-reacting."
"10!" Ben started the count-down, his eyes taking on a manic gleam.
"Mr. Blakely, ("9!"), you're just making the situation worse than it has ("8!") to be," responded Megan.
"Worse? I'm not looking at walking out of here alive, lady, so it makes no difference to me. 7!"
"Ben, you're going to make me shoot you," threatened Don.
"6! What's stopping you?"
"Ben, lower your gun!" ordered Don.
"5! I will not be watched," wailed Ben.
"Alright, Mr. Blakely, alright. We're removing the camera," said Megan's frantic voice. The two men in the elevator also overheard quieter command of "Pull it, Pull it!" followed by the echoing voice of Colby Granger saying "It's out, it's out," somewhere above them.
Ben blinked rapidly and began to lower his weapon, nodding his head and saying "Okay… okay," as he did so, calming down almost as quickly as he had fired up. Don, however, wasn't quick to follow suit, still keeping a firm grip on his gun, but lowering it enough so that Ben wasn't staring directly down the barrel.
After a few minutes of silence, Don asked a question: "So, Ben, where'd ya get the gun?"
"Oh, this?" Ben glanced at his weapon. "I talked to a guy who knows a guy who sells a few out of the back of his van. Been watching criminals long enough to pick up a few things, you know." He went back to leaning his head against the elevator wall, turned a bit to the side from Don.
"Yeah, I bet. And all this just happened while you 'weren't thinking', right Ben?"
This had Ben shifting to look at Don more fully. "Look, I meant what I said: I wasn't thinking. I'm not stupid, I could have come up with a better plan if I wanted to."
"Of course. So, what you're trying to tell me is: in all the time it took to find a guy, buy a gun, get all the way to the federal building, which must have taken some time 'cause I like to think we don't have any gun peddlers in very close vicinity, you didn't say to yourself "Hey, I'm on the way to kill a guy," at all?"
"I di-," Ben began but Don continued, unabated.
"And, while you're doing your little shopping and making your way here, whoever is watching you doesn't think to tell Devane 'Hey, Blakely is headed your way with a gun'?"
"Look, I don't know who's watching me, I don't know why. I just know Devane is behind it all, alright?" yelled Ben.
"And what was killing Devane going to get you, Ben? You must have thought about that, at least?" shot back Don.
"I didn't." Ben seemed to have lost the fervour he had exhibited before, his voice now breaking and sounding scratchy. "I just… get so tired now, I can't focus. I thought… killing Devane, it could finally end, you know? Killing a federal officer… that's going to land me on death row. So, as far as I'm concerned, this ends here, today."
"You don't want to die, Ben," stated Don.
Ben snorted. "Oh yeah? What makes you think that?"
"Well, for one, you could have shot Devane more than twice, making pretty certain he'd be dead. And, in the meantime, you would've shot by pretty much every agent within ten feet of you. Forgetting that, if you really wanted to die, why take a hostage as a shield? Why even be in this elevator?"
Ben seemed to be lost in thought, and when he spoke, it wasn't in a direct response to Don's query. "You know, I don't think anyone understands loss until they're lost a child, not really. And once you truly understand loss… Even if I somehow do manage to leave this elevator alive, I'm looking at prison; being watched all the time in a box much like this one. So tell me, Agent Eppes, what reason could I possibly have for living?"
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Megan poked her head into the break room where Alan and Charlie were:
"Hey guys, could you follow me please?"
She led them to the war room and pointed at the flat screen which displayed two coinciding heat signatures.
"The fibre optic camera didn't work out, he spotted it, began to freak out. Our only other option is thermal imaging. Charlie, do you think you'll be able to separate these two signatures into Don and Blakely?"
Charlie, staring at the images, resisted the urge to say 'I told you so'. He had tried to explain to Megan that perhaps, not being able to see inside the elevator was for the best, but had failed in getting his point across. Megan had politely, and as patiently as possible given the circumstances, said that she couldn't just leave Don in there without any sort of back-up, and be blind if they went into assault.
"Yeah, I think so… When you said Blakely 'freaked out', what exactly did you mean?" Charlie asked.
Megan exchanged a glance with Alan, who looked as worried as his younger son. "It's not important, Charlie. How long do you think it'll take you to clean up the images?"
"Not long, but I can't guarantee that it'll be enough. If you allow me to explain, once again, the Chinese Room-,"
"Charlie-," butted in Megan. "Any other time, I would be more than happy to listen. But right now, Blakely isn't listening to reason, and David hasn't been able to come up with anything to prove that his shooting Devane wasn't part of an elaborate delusion. We are looking at assault; I need to know if there's anything we can do to improve Don's chances."
Charlie sighed, ducking his head as he accepted this temporary loss of the battle. "I'll do my best."
"Thank you," said Megan sincerely, clapping Charlie on the shoulder before walking briskly out of the room.
Going towards her desk, she grabbed her phone and pressed the speed-dial for David.
"David, please tell me you have something," Megan said as soon as David picked up the phone.
"Agent Devane is fine; he's looking at making a full recovery. But… he's hiding something. He should have fired Blakely six weeks ago when the SAC shut down the op. But Devane kept him on, and I think he's lying about his reason why.And, I just checked out Blakely's apartment and… you won't believe it, but he's got a whole folder on his computer full of video files of him being watched. The man was telling the truth, and he actually tapped into whoever was watching him."
"Damn," muttered Megan, rubbing her hand over her eyes. "Alright, that's great work, David. Keep digging and I'll see if I can get Charlie to track down the people watching Blakely."
Megan had barely hung up the phone when an excited Alan approached her and said, "I need to show you something." Minutes later, she, Alan, Colby and King were gathered in one of the tech rooms and Alan was explaining his idea about the Schindler 400A elevators.
"-so if you raise its maximum speed-," said Alan.
"-Diversion," said Megan, understanding. "How far do you think the elevator will drop?"
Alan shrugged. "No more than… five or six feet."
"So we drop the box and my guys go in while they are still rattled, right?" King nodded his head in approval of this plan of action.
"I don't know… there's still a lot of a risk, guys" said Colby, hesitant.
"And that's if we know where they both are," added Megan, taking her foot off the chair and leaving the room, King following after her.
Alan turned to look at Colby, who had remained behind, opening up a bottle of water which was on the table and dropping into a chair next to Alan.
"I don't see how you do this every day," Alan commented, one hand covering his mouth.
Colby swallowed some water before asking, "What do you mean?"
"Having people lives in your hands, all the time. I mean, this elevator thing is my idea. If something happens to Don… I'm responsible."
Colby shrugged. "Well… yeah, but basically, that what it is all about. You take a few guesses, have some ideas, and pray that it doesn't blow up in your face. There's not exactly a How-to book for this kinda thing."
"I suppose… and I guess it's not always your boss's life on the line everyday," muttered Alan, more to himself than to Colby.
Colby stood up, clapping a hand on Alan's shoulder and he set down the water bottle. "Actually, a lot of the days, it is. But, the odds are on our side, Mr. Eppes. We'll get Don out in one piece, don't worry."
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Round Three of negotiations had begun, but there wasn't much change, or at least, that's what Don thought. The heat and close quarters were getting to both men who had taken off their jackets in an attempt to cool off as much as possible. Megan was putting all her profiler training into full gear, and Don was actually quite impressed by her smooth talking; it was almost as if she was trying to hypnotize Blakely into thinking the woman was always right, always reasonable and will you please get out of the elevator so we can figure out why you were being followed? However, it wasn't working very well, and Don's ears perked up when Megan said:
"-it's not like you can hope on a plane… and go to Mexico, Mr. Blakely." Without trying to appear too obvious, Don readied himself for assault. The code-word had been given; this was it.
For all of the advance warning, the sudden drop of the elevator still came as a surprise, but Don was able to recover quickly. He hastily twirled the gun in his hands and used the butt to hit Blakely on the side of the head in an attempt to knock him unconscious. However, Blakely surprised him by his strength, and soon Don found himself wrestling with both guns, trying to keep them pointed away from him. He didn't realize the hatch at the top had opened till he felt two bullets strike him. Surprisingly, the situation had reversed such that he'd been hit by the SWAT member's bullets, and perversely, Blakely's response was a defence for both of them.
Don thought he heard Colby shouting "Hold your fire!" seconds before the hatch was slammed shut and silence descended once more, the smell of cordite filling the suffocating atmosphere inside the elevator as he lay on the ground. While Don's thoughts were distracted by the pain in his chest, as well as the red blossoming on his upper left arm, he didn't immediately register the fact that Blakely was now in possession of both guns.
With the lights flickering about them, Don pushed down the pain long enough to lift his head and take stock of the current situation, only to find not one, but two guns pointed down at him.
Damn. Wasn't I in this position last week?
TBC
Hope this was a suitable follow-up to the first chapter. The next, and last, part should be up tomorrow assuming I don't take too long recovering from the horror that is shoe shopping. Urgh.
Hope you all have a lovely Christmas :-)