Don't Know chapter nine

Jenkins looked ready to faint.

"Oh, I think he remembers you Eppes, don't you Jenkins? Or should I call you Ashley?"

Coop jumped in, "I'm guessing your mom was a big fan of Gone with the Wind. Someone should have told her Rhett's the cool one."

"Yeah," Ian agreed. "Ashley's a spineless little weasel. How about you, Jenkins? You got any backbone?"

Don decided he should contribute, "He's probably got a lot of canes and whips around. Maybe even some ginger root. We could use those on him and see how he does."

Jenkins was sniveling, "No, no ...you can't." He looked at Don, "You're an FBI agent. You can't do this."

"And yet, here we are, doing this," replied Don. "Oh, meet Agents Cooper and Edgerton."

"But" Jenkins argued, "you can't arrest me. We're in Mexico. Your badges aren't valid here."

Don, Ian and Billy all looked at each other, then chorused, "Badges? We don't need no stinking badges!"

Jenkins obviously didn't get the reference, and Don shook his head sadly, "Kids these days. No respect for the classics."

Coop nodded, "Can't trust a man who's not a Bogie fan."

Ian smirked at Jenkins, "If we were nice, we would make some popcorn and rent The Treasure of the Sierre Madre to get you up to speed. But guess what? We're not nice. In fact, we're about the three biggest pricks you'll ever meet."

Jenkins was sweating and trying to squirm away from Coop, "Please, I just did what Ramirez paid me to do. It was him! He was the one who did everything!"

"It was him?" queried Don. "That's funny, I don't remember him in that barn."

"I have to do what he wants! I did't have a choice!"

"Trust me," Ian told him. "You always have a choice. Maybe not a good choice, but a choice. And you made a very bad choice."

"You were dumb, Ashley, really dumb," said Don. "I can understand Ramirez thinking he could get away with pushing around the authorities in the US like he does here, but you're an American. You had to know better.

"You should have warned him. You should have told him torturing and killing feds was a bad idea. You should know that killing feds just gets you a whole bunch fo pissed off feds who want to fry your ass."

"I DID! I did tell him! He wouldn't listen to me!" screamed Jenkins.

Don reached for Jenkins in a blind rage, but Ian immediately grabbed Don, hissing, "Easy Eppes! He'll get his, but right now he's still useful."

Don took a deep breath, nodded slightly, and walked away to get himself under control. Coop and Ian could handle Jenkins anyway.

They did; the two of them tag teamed Jenkins as smoothly as if they had rehearsed the act. Jenkins was confused, looking back and forth frantically between the two agents, and Coop went first.

"You don't get it do you, Ashley? You just admitted discussing the murder of a federal prosecutor."

Ian took over, "That's a capital crime, Ashley. You know what that means, don't you?"

Coop leaned in close, "That means you get a nice, oneway ticket to scenic Terre Haute, Indiana."

Jenkins was blubbering, "Ter...Terre Haute? What's in Terre Haute?"

Ian grinned, "The federal death chamber, what else?"

"That's right," Coop agreed. "Just think, you'll get to see upclose and personal where Timothy McVeigh bought it. Of course, you'll see it right before you die, so you won't get to brag much."

Jenkins was shaking so bad they could practically hear his teeth rattle, "NO! NO! You can't! You can't drag me back to the States!"

Ian patted Jenkins' cheek, "Relax, will you? We're not returning you to the States."

Jenkins looked hopeful, "You're not?"

"Naw," said Coop. "That would be time consuming. Not to mention it would cost the American tax payers a whole lot of money."

Ian nodded, "The economy's so bad, we're just going to do everyone a favor and act as your judge, jury, and executioner. Oh, by the way, you've been found guilty."

"And you've been sentenced to death," Billy added.

"Now we just have to figure the manner of your execution!" said Ian, cheerfully. "However, before we get to that, you're going to make yourself useful and tell us everything you know about Ramirez."

"You can start by giving us a detailed description of his compound," suggested Coop.

"I...I can't do that! Ramirez will kill me!" protested Jenkins.

Ian and Cooper regarded him silently for a moment, then looked at each other.

"Did he just miss the part where he's sentenced to die?" asked Coop.

Ian put his hands on Jenkins' shoulders, "Ashley, you need to calm down. There's no need to be afraid of Ramirez. I assure you Ramirez WILL NOT kill you. You can only die once, and WE'RE going to kill you."

Jenkins totally lost it then, he collapsed to the floor in a heap, trembling and crying. Ian and Coop had to haul him back to his feet, and he hung between them whimpering over and over, "Please...please...please..."

Don had himself back in control, and said harshly, "We don't please. One way or another you will tell us what we want to know. If you want it the hard way, that's fine with me, in fact, I prefer it.

"We'll just find your bathroom. I feel a good shit coming on."

That did it for Jenkins, he told them everything he could about Alberto Ramirez, and even drew a crude map of the compound.

Looking over the map the three agents discussed weak points while Jenkins whined and begged for his life. Finally, Coop got so sick of hearing it that he hog-tied Jenkins and found some duct tape.

"Shut-up!" he advised Jenkins, "Or I'll shut you up!"

"Hold on," said Don. "I want to heck out his fridge."

Ian and Coop exchanged looks.

"Uh, Eppes, you're not looking for a ginger root, are you? Not that I would blame you if you were," hastily added Ian.

"Don't tempt me," replied Don, rummaging through the refrigerator. He triumphantly pulled out a hot pepper.

Jenkins tried his damndest to keep them from putting it in his mouth, but they held him down and forced it in. Ian had some duct tape ready and taped his mouth shut. After that they dumped Jenkins in a corner and went on discussing their plans.

"The compound is out in the open, so it's harder to sneak up on them," observed Ian.

Don remembered Clay Porter making the same observation once, "Jenkins is a frequent visitor. We'll use his car and aim it at the gates as a distraction."

"We can follow in the other two car and flip their lights off. At night, they'll have a hard time seeing them if the cars are running dark," suggested Coop.

Agreeing on a strategy, they put all their supplies in the Regal, than prepared the Oldsmobile and Jenkins' Camero. They threw Jenkins in the trunk of the Olds and checked over their equipment.

Ian pulled Don aside and pressed something in his hand, "Look Eppes, I know about you almost dying, and well, you may not like this, but I think you should have it anyway. You're the one most likely to be in a situation where you can't use a gun tonight."

'This' was a KaBar marine combat knife with a wicked 7inch long blade. Don stared at it and had a sudden flashback to the sickening disbelief of feeling a knife blade cut through his side. He wondered if he could bear to be on the opposite end of the knife, shoving it into someone else.

For the first time, Don was swept with doubt. A tiny, little sane part of him was whispering, 'What the fuck are you doing Eppes? Really? You're going rogue?'

Don's hand closed around the knife handle while he struggled to breathe. He had come down to Mexico, drug his two best friends south of the border with him, and was about to take on a fucking criminal warlord.

He had been right back in that motel room when he said they had virtually no chance of coming out alive. Even if they all managed to somehow survive, their lives could be in shambles.

Okay, Don's life already was in shambles, but Billy and Ian could, at best, be throwing away their lives in the FBI. He had asked Coop, and Coop had come, and he hadn't really tried that hard to dissuade Ian. Yes, they were adults, and responsible for their own decisions, but they both had answered the siren call of friendship for a fellow agent.

Don was the only one could end this here and now, who could say, 'Hey guys, this is insane. Let's forget it.'

Instead, he tightened his hand around the knife handle, and said, "Thanks."

Two notes here, first, Colby references the Treasure of the Sierre Madre in Finders Keepers.

The second might be TMI, but I thought I'd add this curtesy note for non-Americans in case they are confused by the Terre Haute reference. While I like the episode 12:01 A.M., as an American I knew all along it was impossible because there are no death chambers in the LA area. (This is the only time I can think of that Numb3rs made a glaring mistake.)

Perhaps I should explain that in the US, two levels of government can pass the death sentence: the federal government and the individual state governments. Not all states have the death penalty, but California does. The state death chamber is in San Quentin prison on the San Francisco Bay. (Nowhere NEAR LA.) The federal death chamber is inTerre Haute, Indiana. Timothy McVeigh was the Oklahoma City bomber.