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Just Imagine

Chapter Two

Don watched Robin until she was out of sight and safely on her way to the SUV. It still amazed him how empty and cold he felt when she wasn't next to him, how completely connected they had become in such a short time. He literally could not imagine his life without her in it. He knew she was angry at being sent away, but if anything would happen to her and . . .

He rubbed his face, drew a deep breath through his nose, and sent those feelings to the back of his mind. Now that she was safe he had to concentrate on the situation.

The parade route was five and a half miles long and Ethan Brant could strike anywhere. Don combed his hand through his hair, his quick mind already planning a course of action. The way he saw it he needed three things – and he needed them now!

Notifying all the people that protocol demanded would take time, but, he knew he had to at least let Pasadena police and parade security know what was going on. If he was able to determine where Brant would strike, he would need to move quickly – through the middle of the damn parade, if he had to – and he would need their cooperation and assistance to do that.

He saw two police officers nearly a block away from him, on the same side of Colorado he was on. They were standing in the street, between the spectators and the parade. He hurried to them, showed them his ID and badge and demanded, "Who's in charge?"

"Captain Huckeriede, sir. He's down by the first aid station across from the Civic Auditorium."

"I need to talk to him, asap."

The officer spoke through the comm link on the shoulder of his uniform and Don was assured that the captain would be there immediately.

While he waited, he took a few steps away from the two officers and pulled his phone from his pocket again. Quickly, he dialed the number that would give him what he needed next; reliable, dependable, proficient and most of all, familiar and trustworthy. As Megan did before, when the phone was answered, Don spoke quickly. "I'm downtown Pasadena, on Colorado, near the beginning of the parade. How soon can you get down here?"

There was no hesitation, just Colby Granger's voice, quick and reassuring. "I can be there in like, two minutes, Don. I'm in the grandstands on Orange Grove."

Don was both relieved at his former team member's close proximity and filled with an uneasy feeling. He lowered his voice before asking, "Do you have someone with you?"

This time there was an second of silence, uncertainty. "Yeah."

"Send her home, Colb. We may have a sniper."

There was a small intake of breath, then Colby's voice, low, but solid and sure. "Got it, Don."

Captain Huckeriede of the Pasadena Police Department arrived and over the sound of a large and very loud marching band, Don filled him in. The Captain readily offered whatever assistance Don would need, immediately placing the call that would add additional uniforms on site.

Don heard his name being called behind him and turned to see Colby Granger running towards him. He met the man halfway. "Hey, Colby. Thanks for coming so quick." Then, under his breath, "Sorry about your date."

Colby merely nodded and asked, "What do we have?"

Don motioned for Colby to move in closer and in a low voice he said, "First, I want you to know, we're working unsanctioned here. I took the call myself. The AD knows nothing about it and if things go wrong, well, we can both kiss our careers goodbye. I mean, I'll take full responsibility, but I'll understand if you don't want to risk it."

Colby nodded again, this time with a slight touch of irritation, as if he was offended that Don even had to ask. "I'm here, Don," he said with conviction, then repeated, "What do we have?"

"Megan just called me," Don began. "One of the women she's counseling is in prison for helping her husband rob a bank in Virginia. She's doing time, but he got out on a technicality. Name's Ethan Brant. Anyway, he came to Calif. to make a new life for them when she gets out, but she says he lost his job, his car's been repossessed and the house he was buying has been foreclosed. He snapped. This woman told Megan he called her this morning and told her he was going to make them all pay; to see what it was like to lose it all. She told Megan he said it would all end today with the parade. I don't know what we're looking at, Colb, a bomb or a sniper ..."

"Where do you want me, Don?"

"I'm thinking we need to get an extra detail on the grand marshal. Better put one on the Tournament of Roses Parade president, too."

Colby nodded his head once, letting Don know it was as good as done, then he offered. "I'll get someone on that photographer's platform at the turn at Orange Grove, too. It's 5 levels high, best view of the parade."

"Good, good," Don said, then without pausing for a breath, he asked for the third thing he needed, "then see if you can find Charlie. He's on the CalSci float. Maybe he can help."

Colby nodded and turned away quickly, but after a few steps, stopped and asked, "Uh, hey, Don which one?

"What?"

"Which float? I think there's over 40 of them."

Don paused and tried to remember what his brother had told him about the CalSci entry. "Uh, it'll be the one with Einstein and Socrates on it."

Colby started off again, then once more stopped in his tracks. "Einstein and … ?" He shook his head, mumbling as he started running again, "Of course it is."

Colby ran to the nearest LAPD officer and arranged for several more patrolmen to be added to the guard detail covering the grand marshal and the president of the Rose Parade. He also ordered two officers to man the photographer's platform. That done, he began his search for Charlie.

As the parade traveled east toward the eventual turn onto N. Sierra Madre Blvd. and the stopping point at Victory Park, Colby ran west, towards the parade's origin on S. Orange Grove Blvd., scanning the floats as far in front of him as he could see, looking for something that might carry Albert Einstein and Socrates.

Then he saw it; the enormous entry was just inching it's way around the 110 degree turn onto Colorado from S. Orange Grove Blvd.

Despite the urgent nature of the situation, Colby waited until the extended chassis had completed the turn and straightened out onto Colorado before he approached.

Six CalSci students marched in front of the float bearing two banners proclaiming the entry to be the winner of both the Founders' and the Grand Marshall's trophies.

The float was probably 80 to 85 feet long with five distinct individual layers, four of them seemingly suspended in air. At the front of the float, a tranquil scene of students and teacher filled the first area. The students, in Grecian robes, sat in a garden decorated with hundreds of gladiolus and tulips. Their teacher, Socrates, easily recognizable even to those who only knew him by name, stood among a sea of white carnations. Behind the enigmatic philosopher, portrayed by the equally enigmatic Professor Fleindhart, stood three small-scaled, but amazingly detailed and faithful reproductions of Harvard, Cambridge and Princeton. Each 'brick' in the buildings had been painstakingly created with cinnamon bark, cranberry seeds and silver leaf.

Behind them, on another level a few feet higher, was an ode to Leonardo da Vinci and his contributions to modern day life. A student dressed as the "Renaissance Man" stood at the polymath's workplace, a room filled with replicas of da Vinci's numerous inventions. Above him, the predecessor of the Wright brother's flying machine and inspiration for all modern day aircraft soared and dipped and twirled in an intricate pattern of animation. A larger than life size portrait of the Vitruvian Man – the well-known drawing depicting the out-reaching human male form – hung from a nearby wall. Both the desk and the portrait were made with bark and crushed dry leaves, while the 'flying machine' that glided around them was covered with bronze-colored chrysanthemums. A little know fact that daVinci invented the very first robot was demonstrated by an animated android, comically adorned with a painters beret, standing in front of an easel where the "Mona Lisa" rested. Leonardo's robot moved with computer generated control and appeared to dip his painter's brush into the colorful splotches of "paint" on the palette it held in it's two digit robot hand, then apply it to the painting. The crowd of spectators laughed as the robot "created" the masterpiece.

The third and middle level honored Galileo. The CalSci student dressed as the famous Italian astronomer stood beside a replica of the first primitive telescope he created – which in turn stood beside an intricate, detailed version of the Hubble Space telescope that today sends thousands of images of distant galaxies to Earth. Against a raised solid surface covered with onion seeds to create a smooth black surface, white orchid petals flown in from Southeast Asia were used to simulate the Milky Way Galaxy. A sprinkling of fine glitter that caught the early morning Pasadena sun caused the stars to twinkle as the float moved down the street. A breathtaking reproduction of the sun, and the planets that revolve around it, brought gasps from the crowd. Each planet was covered in blended strawflowers from South Africa, blue irises from Holland, and several different shades of roses. The planets traveled in their individual orbits around the sun, with each satellite moon in it's own orbit around it's mother planet. The combination of the visual effects, the use of color and flower placement and outstanding animation had made it a favorite among the judges.

Sir Isaac Newton was next. The English physicist, mathematician and astronomer who is credited with unraveling the mystery of gravity, was considered by many to be the greatest and most influential scientist who ever lived. He stood on the fourth level, next to a simulated apple tree. The limbs swayed in a computer generated breeze, dropping the occasional apple onto the ground. On the other side of the tree, was the only object on the float that was not completely covered with flowers. A zero-gravity chamber, complete with the lucky CalSci student who won the toss, represented Newton's contribution to space travel and exploration. The brilliant minds at CalSci had discovered hydraulics could be used to simulate neutral buoyancy and the weightlessness of space. The student floated, completely suspended several feet above the bottom of the chamber, and the crowd cheered as they passed.

At the top level, in sharp contrast to the outstanding animation and crowd pleasing displays on the previous ones, a small figure stood alone on a simple narrow platform that stretched across the entire width of the float - Albert Einstein.

Colby recognized the genius – Charles Eppes – now wearing a bushy salt/pepper mustache covering his upper lip. With some help from genetics and heritage, he didn't have to fake the prominent nose or bushy eyebrows, which had been lightened. He was wearing a white button-down shirt, with the collar open beneath a fuzzy, mis-buttoned, well-worn sweater. A old rumpled brown suit with elbow patches completed the look, but it was his hair that stopped Colby momentarily in his tracks. It was Charlie's own hair, of that Colby was sure, and, to be honest, Colby had seen the mathematician's hair through the years he had known him in varying lengths and styles, but the "Einstein" look he sported now was definitely a new one.

Teased and sprayed and gelled to the point of stiffness, it haloed his face in the unkempt mess of disarray that the original and true Einstein was noted for. The color of Charlie's hair had also been altered – either by white powder or flour or something – Colby wasn't sure – but the transformation was incredible. Charlie Eppes and become Albert Einstein.

Recognizable without any props or symbols of his invaluable contribution to mankind, 'Einstein' stood waving at the spectators from under a banner that stretched across the entire float. In eight foot letters created by using thousands of dehydrated yellow and gold marigold petals, the banner read "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one." The words from John Lennon's song "Imagine" dwarfed the genius, and Colby's mouth quirked up on one side. The seriousness of the current situation, though, choked his teasing remarks from him (later, he thought, definitely later) and grabbing onto the platform, he hoisted himself onto the float.

Larry Fleindhart, resplendent in white flowing robes and sandals, stepped forward. "Highly irregular, Agent Granger. No offense, but in your current state of dress I don't believe you could convince these hardy spectators that you represent any of the illustrious people we are honoring here. Besides, I believe the parade administrators might object. We already have the limit of live human occupants allowed without prior approval."

"No offense taken," Colby assured him, "and don't worry, I won't be staying." He was still talking to Larry, but he turned his gaze to Charlie, who had left his position on the float to join them. "And I need to take Charlie with me." Speaking directly to Charlie then, Colby said, "We need your help."

Shocked, Charlie looked at the agent with wide-eyed dismay. "Now!" he asked, his lightened eyebrows raising in disbelief.

"Yeah. We have a situation. Don sent me to get you."

Larry and Charlie looked at each other, both very aware of the significance of Colby's remark; Don hadn't asked for Charlie's help since the mathematician's return from England. For him to do so now … Charlie looked helplessly at Larry, but his friend merely patted Charlie once on the shoulder. "Certainly, you must go, Charles. We will persevere without you. After all, it's not everyday Albert Einstein is asked to help the FBI." With that, Larry gathered his robes and carefully made his way back to his position on the front of the float. Colby hopped off the moving entry and Charlie, not quite as nimble as the agent, sat down on the side of the chassis and slid off onto the asphalt.

Don was talking to two members of the Tournament of Roses Committee when they arrived. He thanked the two committee members for their cooperation and they hurried away, then he turned to his brother.

"Good, you're here."

"What's going on?"

Once again, in a low voice, Don started to explain the situation. "We may a sniper, or …"

"Sniper!" Charlie interrupted and before Don could continue, Charlie went on, a touch of panic in his voice. "We need to get everyone off the floats now! I have to get back ..."

Don reached out and took hold of his brother's arm. Squeezing hard enough to get Charlie's attention he hissed in a low voice that demanded calm and silence.

"Charlie, we can't. The parade's already started. There's too many people, you understand? We'll cause a panic."

"But, Don," Charlie continued to protest, "I'm responsible for those students. Their families ..."

"Charlie, look around. Everyone has families. Most of them have their families here with them. We can't stop the parade. We can't evacuate everyone. We have to work around it."

Don squeezed one more time, then released his hold, bending down to catch his brother's eyes. He was relieved to see the panic reside and understanding settle in. He took a step back, giving Charlie some space and asked silently with his expression; You okay now?

Charlie swallowed and nodded. A look of grim resignation crossed his face. As many cases as he had worked with the FBI in those six years he still had trouble accepting the dark violent side of human nature. He swallowed again. "What do you need?"

"We need to know where he might position himself."

Completely focused now, Charlie's expression became incredulous and he shook his head, "Don, there's literally tons of variables. The possibilities could be incalculable. I can't ..."

"Charlie," Don stopped him, "you know this route. You drive this way everyday. CalSci is just a few blocks south of here."

Charlie was nodding his head. "No … I know … I mean, what do you know about him? Is he looking for maximum victims, or a specific individual? Is he rational - sane with a vendetta, or postal, just out to get his name in the papers?"

Quickly, Don relayed his earlier conversation with Megan.

"I see," Charlie said softly, "so his actions are motivated by a need for retribution."

Relieved to see his brother was on track, Don slipped easily into agent mode. "Sniper sounds more logical, but we can't rule out bombs along the parade route. We're working with LAPD and the Pasadena police department. I've got the canine units out sniffing for bombs; it would just help if we could point them in the right direction."

"Well, Don without all the data - the type of weapon, his skill level, a control of prior behavior … Don, there's even the probability that he won't position himself here on Colorado. There's Walnut and E. Del Mar, easily within sniper ranger. I'd have to do analysis of … "

"Come on, Charlie," Don urged, "you did it before, remember? And Edgerton said you were pretty close to the sniper's location. Give me pretty close, buddy. I'll take it from there."

Charlie grew quiet and his gaze became distant, unfocused. Edgerton. He'd said,"Invisibility is a sniper's greatest strength." Would it be possible for a man to become invisible on Colorado Blvd. today? This five mile section was zoned for commercial use and there was no end of fast food places and small businesses, most of them just one or two stories high. Truthfully, there were very few multi-leveled buildings high enough to offer a sniper both the invisibility and perspective he needed. That would narrow the possibilities, he thought.

The wondrous and anomalous configuration of neurons and gray matter in his brain that made him who he was, swirled through his head, isolating those few buildings – the images of them burned into his memory from years of daily travel to and from CalSci. He sifted through huge amounts of information that his brain transposed into numbers – his language. They flowed endlessly; analyzing data, forming expressions, creating equations. He studied the pattern of tree clusters or large billboards around those buildings that would hamper visibility. He judged sunlight and atmospheric pressure and density with the days wind speed and direction. In the end, he even channeled Ian Edgerton, combining logic with the sniper's perspective; Colorado ran east and west which meant the gunman would be shooting towards the parade as it traveled east, with the sun at his back. Depending on window access, that might further narrow the search area. It wasn't enough, though. As he'd mention to Don, the sniper could easily take up a position on E. Walnut St. or E. Del Mar Blvd., both running parallel to Colorado, a few blocks away in either direction. As far as that goes, if he had a long range sniper rifle and the skill to use one, he could wait at CalSci or Pasadena City College; both had libraries that would offer the height needed for such an endeavor.

When Charlie finally blinked and looked at his brother it wasn't with conviction or certainty. His face was clouded with doubt.

Don's expression, however, was earnest, anxious and trusting. "You have something?"

"The highest probability," Charlie began, hesitantly, "would be the Amherst Complex, those high rise office buildings on the south side of Colorado, just before Pasadena City College, between Lake and Allen."

Don nodded once, as if his brother had just confirmed his own theory. He pulled the gun from the holster on his hip and checked the load.

Charlie was at his side, quickly. "But, Don, I can't be sure. I need to …"

"There's no time, Charlie," Don snapped, brusque and hurried. "I said I'd take pretty close." He returned his Glock to it's holster and turned to Colby. "How hard would it be to override the security on one of those buildings?"

"You'd have to encrypt the code or hack into the security system itself."

"Or old school," Don said thoughtfully, "he could have just hidden in a storage room yesterday and spent the night."

Colby nodded grimly. "Either way, we have to assume he's there and set up."

Nodding, Don said, "Alright, I'm going to go check it out, Colby, you …"

"Wait!" Charlie grabbed Don's arm. "Alone? Without backup?"

Don gave his brother a quick, affectionate grin, then turned to Granger."Colby, locate a captain named Huckeriede with the PDP. Tell him what Charlie's come up with and have him send backup to that location. Then have the Emergency Medical Response people stand by. Oh, and see if you can locate some vests. I want you and Charlie in one asap."

"On it."

Colby hurried away and Don started walking, pulling his brother along with him. "Charlie, find someplace out of the way and stay put."

Charlie was shaking his head, running along side his brother in order to keep up with Don's determined steps. "Don, please. We don't have enough data. I just can't be sure of my findings. I feel like we're missing something important."

"Yeah, well, buddy, what we're missing is time. I gotta go with what we have."

"Don … "

"Charlie ...". Don stopped, grabbed his brother by both shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. "Don't second guess yourself like that. You did a good job, buddy. Now, please, just find some cover and let me do mine."

Charlie bristled slightly at his brother's orders. He scowled, annoyed, then conceded with a slight pout in his voice. "Alright, just be careful."

Don's expression softened and he squeezed his brother's shoulder. "I will. Now go on."

Don turned away, getting his bearings. The site Charlie predicted was nearly two miles away. On a good day he could run that on the FBI training field in 10 to 12 minutes, but this was far from a good day and he wasn't sure he had ten minutes. He knew there were police cruisers off Colorado, behind the scenes, but even if he took the time to find one, he wouldn't be able to drive it down Colorado Blvd. with the parade in full swing. He started running, slipping in between an all female equestrian drill team and a enthusiastic high school band. Once on the other side of the street he turned east and broke into a full run. He stayed as close to the blue line as he could, not wanting to interfere with the parade. The crowd ignored him, their attention firmly on the procession, and he ran unheeded.

The agent in him screamed to stop and look in every backpack, check every trash can along the sidewalk, look for any and every sniper vantage point, but he couldn't.

He had overcome his trust issues some time ago and right now he had to trust the Pasadena police to search the crowds, looking for anything suspicious. He had to trust the LAPD and their canine unit who had been trained to detect bombs. He had to trust Colby to secure the grand Marshall and he had to trust Charlie's math. He was painfully aware how many people could die if he was wrong and Brant had planted bombs along the route, but he had to trust his own instinct, too – and his gut told him the man wanted to select his victims, wanted to play God, wanted to control the situation. No, trust was not the problem; time was the enemy. A sniper – undetected, hidden, and unstoppable – could kill a lot of people in a short time. How many innocent spectators could die today between that first shot that would give his position away and the time they could stop him?

He knew Charlie wasn't completely convince the location he gave him was correct, but the truth was, Don had considered those buildings himself. Charlie's analysis had cinched it.

He and Charlie both had had a hard time in the beginning trying to convince the right people that math could help fight crime. FBI tactics, procedures and training were some of the most rigorous and successful in the world and Don had the utmost faith in them. He had learned them, used them, taught them, believed in them, but in the end, if they didn't provide the answers that was needed he turned to Charlie for help. It was often a combination of both disciplines that won the day – solid investigative work and Charlie's numbers.

It hadn't been easy admitting his younger brother could actually help him do his job and it had been even harder still to ask him, but they had grown past that. They'd probably always have a certain amount of issues between them, but before Charlie left for England, they had been in a good place. Years of working together had given them symmetry, balance; a situation away from sibling rivalry and jealousy where they both had something to bring to the table. Don had discovered he not only liked his brother, he trusted him, inexplicably. Charlie might have doubts about his analysis, but Don didn't. Confident, he pressed on towards the high rise buildings two miles away.

~Numb3rs~

Charlie watched Don cross the street, slipping between a large equestrian group and the band behind it, then running east, towards the Amherst Complex. He'd forgotten how much he hated this part. Convincing Don and the bureau that math could be used to fight crime had been a double-edged sword. Certainly, in the beginning, it had helped that Don was open and receptive to using any method available to get the job done. When Charlie's equations and algorithms proved not only reliable but down right ground breaking in closing cases quickly, it had made it easier to convince the naysayers.

But, he had never liked watching Don and his team rush off to confront a dangerous criminal based on information he gave them - especially when he didn't have time to double check his analysis, like now.

He thought about Don. For too long they had been family in name only. The closeness they had shared when they were younger had dissipated through their high school and college years, the gap between them widening with each family vacation Don reneged on and each holiday spent in separate states. When he started working with Don, there had been a gradual, but definite change. Don finally accepted Charlie for who he was, and Charlie, at long last, realized how his intellect and fame had alienated his older brother. With understanding came respect, and the closeness of working together had strengthened the bonds of brotherhood.

The sword was always there, though; the numbers, the thing that gave him his brother back was also the thing that could take him away forever.

Charlie intended to do what Don had instructed, he really did, but as he looked around for a place to stay out of the way, something caught his eye. The parade, blissfully unaware of the impending disaster, continued it's path down Colorado and at that moment, passing directly in front of Charlie were two Wells Fargo stagecoaches.

The familiar red and gold coaches, one pulled by four matching brown horses, and the other by four beautiful sorrel steeds were iconic scenes of American history and legendary symbols of heritage and trust. Wells Fargo was also a frequent part of the celebration of the Rose Parade. And it was something else, he thought … it was a bank. A bank with money for loans and mortgages and …

His breath quickened and the blood rushed through his veins so quickly he felt his forehead throbbing. His eyes were wide, the pupils dark and still, and he could no longer see the stagecoach. Complex equations, complicated neural networks, endless binary patterns – they forced their way to his consciousness, spinning and eddying behind his eyes with relentless fervor until he gasped with sudden understanding. With it came dread; it settled in his stomach like a lead ball. The fear and uncertainty that plagued him when he was working with life or death surfaced with a violent intensity and he staggered, nearly overwhelmed by it. He fought it, reaching through the maze of digits in his head for the rational, lucid thoughts he needed to keep Don and everyone else safe.

He needed to refine the data points, enrich his system analysis. He needed to write. He scrabbled through his pockets, but Albert Einstein didn't need pens or pencils or markers while riding on a parade float and the pockets of the brown jacket were empty. His mind was overflowing with information screaming to be acknowledged, and he started a desperate search for writing material. After looking for several minutes, he nearly pounced on a shop owner who was writing the altered hours of operation due to the parade on the glass section of the door with a colored marker. The startled man readily agreed to give the marker he was using to Charlie and the mathematician hurried away. Three buildings down he found a dry cleaners with a large expanse of blank window space, and he started writing.

tbc