Chapter 3

The security guard glanced at his watch, then at the group of visitors clustered in the chairs, and then over at the metal detector that was positioned a few feet from the desk. It had been down since the security guard had arrived an about an hour and a half ago. It hadn't been an issue up until now; this was the first group of visitors. A technician was hard at work on the wiring. He glanced at the roster, idly looking over the signatures. "Jack Smith, Bill Gray, John Williams, Mike Jones, and Dave Black," he read. "These can't be real names. I need to check these against their IDs." A thought dawned on him. "Maybe they're undercover – or under a witness protection program," he conjectured. "How much longer will that be?" he called to the tech.

"Oh, maybe another half-hour."

The security guard scratched his head nervously, and looked up as the escort approached. Lisa Johnson was moderately attractive and athletically built, and wore her plain button down shirt and khaki pants with an air of professionalism and a bit of an attitude. "Hey, Lisa."

"Hey, Frank. What do we have here?" she asked, as she eyed the group. They defied categorization, she noted. Almost all of them had full beards, except for one sporting a thick mustache. They were all big beefy men, and looked like they would be more at home in plaid shirts, but they were neatly dressed in shirts, jackets, and overcoats, and a few of them carried a briefcase or a satchel.

"They say they were called in by the office to meet with Don Eppes at 7:30," said Frank. "Something to do with that standoff situation up in Washington. They said something about a video conference upstairs. We've got a problem though – the detector's down." He jerked his head over at the technician. "The guy says another half hour – that would make them pretty late for that meeting."

Lisa frowned slightly; then her expression cleared. This wouldn't be the first time they had by-passed the metal detector. It had been put in a few months earlier after a shooting in the office, and generally speaking, they were pretty good about following protocol when it came to using it, but it wasn't unheard of to escort important visitors in without it. "Did you sign them in?" she asked. The guard nodded, momentarily forgetting that he needed to check their IDs. Lisa stepped forward. "Good morning, gentlemen. My name is Lisa Johnson, and I will be your escort upstairs. I need to check your briefcases – just a formality – then we can proceed."

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Charlie glanced quickly around the conference room as he entered. "Hey, wow, you're all here! That's great," he exclaimed excitedly as he deposited his briefcase and hastily began hauling out papers.

Don's feeling of annoyance was quickly escalating into anger, but he tried to keep his voice steady. "Charlie, what are you doing? We're in the middle of something." The other agents exchanged glances and Colby smirked at little, which only served to increase Don's irritation.

Charlie was so immersed in setting up his material he failed to notice the expression on his brother's face. "Don, I know you guys are busy, but you will really want to hear this. I'll be quick. Remember what I was telling you about the money laundering case yesterday?"

"What I remember," Don said, emphasizing each word, "is that I told you we don't have time for this now, and to let it go. I will talk to you about it later."

Charlie looked up at this, and saw the frown on Don's face. Realizing he might be about to lose his audience, he plowed ahead even more vigorously. Grabbing his papers, he stepped up to Don's side, and tried to show him the first sheet. "Look, I can explain this really quickly - if you look at the flow diagram –"

"Charlie," said Don through gritted teeth. He grabbed Charlie's arm, perhaps a little harder than he intended to, and steered him toward his briefcase. "Leave now." He turned back toward the front of the room

"But –"

"Charlie, what part of the word "priority" do you not understand?" roared Don, wheeling back around. "Get the hell out of here!"

Charlie stood speechless, with his mouth open. He shut it, opened it again, then shut it and turned around, but not before catching Megan's sympathetic glance. He grabbed his papers and briefcase, hauling them in one big unruly armful out of the door. Don watched him go, shaking his head in disbelief. He turned back to the group to find them staring at him with solemn expressions, like schoolchildren facing an angry teacher.

Even though they hadn't said a word, he felt like he needed to explain. "Charlie and I talked about that case last night," he said defensively. "I told him then to drop it. When he gets his head around a problem, he's like a pit bull on amphetamines. He just will not let go."

Megan cocked her head and looked at Don through slightly narrowed eyes. "You were pretty hard on him."

"Yeah, well, he deserved it. He needs to understand that we need to prioritize," Don said gruffly, but he looked back out the door with a bit of concern. He could see Charlie standing by some file cabinets, trying to organize his things. Megan followed his gaze.

"Why don't you go talk to him?" she said, "We'll wait." She caught Colby in the middle of a grin.

"Sorry," said Colby, now grinning outright. "It's just that pit bull thing – and Charlie-" He caught David looking at him sideways. "Never mind." Megan turned back to Don, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

"Okay, I will talk to him," Don said. "Later. We need to get on with this."

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Charlie's face was burning with humiliation. He ducked his head down as he tried to organize his papers on the file cabinet. It would have been bad enough to be spoken to that way from Don, but to be dismissed like a child in front of the group – he felt as though he wanted to crawl in a hole. Why wouldn't these papers behave? He kept his head lowered, hoping no one would see the flush on cheeks, trying to get his emotions in check before he walked out.

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Lisa stepped off the elevators with her group of visitors. "I was told you would be using the conference room with the video capability," she said. "Let me grab Marcy and make sure she set it up." She stepped over to a desk near the elevators and spoke to a short brunette.

The men congregated in the center of the hallway. "Okay, be ready," said the big man quietly to the group. I want the agent in charge and maybe four or five others. Follow my lead."

Marcy and Lisa approached, Marcy with a quizzical smile on her face. She held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Marcy Sherwood. Guys, I have to apologize – I didn't have the room scheduled and it's not set up. I imagine this is a last-minute deal, right?"

"You could say that," the big man said with a smile on his face. He took her hand in an enormous paw. "Hi - Jack Smith. I'm afraid we don't know the details – we were just asked to be here. I am not even sure what the lead agent's name is."

"Oh, that would be Don Eppes," said Lisa. "I think he is in another meeting, but I am sure he will be right here. Marcy, maybe we can set up the conference room while we're waiting for him."

"Okay," said Marcy. "Let me grab the remotes." She stepped over to a desk and grabbed a small bag, and rejoined the group. "This way," she said.

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Charlie finally tired of fighting his papers and crammed the last of them into his bag. His stomach was in a knot. Head still down, he made his way down aisle between the cubicles and turned left to head to the elevators. His thoughts churning inside his head as he rounded the corner, he paid little attention to where he was going and nearly ran into a group of people coming towards him. He stopped short in front of a large bearded man.

Jack Smith paused and looked at the nametag on the man in front of him. "Eppes," he read. His eyes narrowed as he took in the man's appearance. Small, young, hair a little too long, jacket with a T-shirt underneath, he noted. "Doesn't look like a fed," he thought. Name was right, though. He held out his hand, reaching under his jacket with his other hand. "Agent Eppes?" he queried. "Jack Smith."

Charlie, taken aback, looked up at the man, who was a full head taller than he was. He took the man's hand, but before he could introduce himself, Marcy jumped in. "Oh, that's not Agent Eppes," she smiled. "That's his brother, Charlie. Charlie consults here." She suddenly stopped talking, turning pale, and looked towards their still-clasped hands. Charlie, politely trying to extricate his hand from the big man's, followed her gaze and froze. Pointing directly at his middle was a handgun. He stared, paralyzed, with a twisting terror starting in his chest.

Jack thought quickly, his cold blue eyes narrowing. "Well now, Charlie," he said softly. "I would like you to slowly set down that bag and turn around." Charlie heard the man talking, but the words were not registering. His ears were roaring, and his knees felt like rubber. Behind him, the other men had moved around Lisa and Marcy, and had trained guns on their backs. "Do as I say, and no one will get hurt," said Jack, still quietly, but more insistently, his eyes glued on Charlie. When Charlie still did not respond, he exploded. He jabbed his pistol at the ceiling and let loose a shot, then spun Charlie around by the shoulder and grabbed his jacket and T-shirt at the neck. Charlie felt the hot muzzle of the pistol against the back of his jaw. "WALK!" Smith commanded. He followed that with a shout intended for the office personnel who were shocked into action by the shot. "Everyone stay calm, put their weapons down and their hands on their heads, and no one gets hurt!"

Don and his team were just finishing the morning briefing when they heard the shot. Don's first reaction was "Not again!" thinking of the shooting in the office months before. An agent had been killed. His second thought took in the fact that the shots had come from the hallway by the elevators, and immediately on the heels of that, was "Where is Charlie?" All of this spun through his head in a split second. His feet were already moving of their own accord toward the sound, as his agents scrambled to their feet behind him. He reached for his piece as he ran, fear mounting in his gut. He knew that Charlie had headed for the elevators moments before – he had watched him out of the corner of his eye. He felt a shock of relief as he saw Charlie come around the corner, followed immediately by horror as he saw the gun pressed to Charlie's jaw, and the huge man holding him by the neck. He could sense the other agents and office personnel on the other side of the dividers, hands on their heads, and his own team just behind him as he froze. Charlie was ghostly white, his dark eyes huge in his face, and Don could see the terror in them as Charlie focused on him.

The big man narrowed his eyes at Don, and his team in the aisle just behind him. "Put your weapons down," he commanded. Don could see the rest of the man's group move into position behind him, and noted that they also had control of Marcy and Lisa. A shootout would result in too many casualties. His heart hammering, he slowly bent his knees and laid his gun on the carpet. He sensed, rather than heard, that his team did the same.

"I'm looking for Don Eppes," the big man announced, looking directly at Don.

"That's me." Don words came out calmly, belying the storm in his gut. "What do you want?"

The big man tightened his grip on the back of Charlie's jacket. Charlie could feel his T-shirt tightening at the front of his neck, and he struggled to breathe. "I want you and your agents," the man said, "to follow Miss Marcy into the conference room that she is going to set up for us. Move quickly and quietly with your hands on your head."

"You can leave my agents out of this," Don countered. "You and I can talk directly –"

"Shut up!" bellowed the man, shaking Charlie slightly. His finger tightened on the trigger and Don tensed. "You are not in a position to negotiate. Do as you are told, or your brother pays the price." With a twist of fear, Don looked at Charlie, who closed his eyes, and appeared to be desperately trying to keep from collapsing.

"Don, it's okay," whispered David, behind him. "Just go, man." With a sinking feeling, Don started down the aisle, hands up.

Charlie watched his brother walk toward him, with David, Megan and Colby behind. "I screwed up, I screwed up," he kept thinking desperately. When first confronted with the gun, he had frozen. "Don would have fought the man right there," thought Charlie, in inner agony. "He wouldn't have put everyone in jeopardy. How could I have been so slow, so dense?" Don was passing him now, in slow motion, it seemed. He turned and looked sideways at Charlie as he passed, his brow furrowed in a frown. Charlie closed his eyes. "He knows," Charlie thought. "He knows I screwed this up, just like I screwed up on the money laundering thing this morning." He lurched forward, suddenly pushed from behind, and opening his eyes, he realized that all of the others, including Marcy and Lisa were already walking into the conference room. He and his captor were the last ones in. The door clicked shut behind them.

End Chapter 3