Disclaimer: Another chapter, another disclaimer. I don't own any part

Of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Oc's are mine. Yawn.

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Sahar listened impassively to the recording of the conversation between David Sinclair and Conrad Gerrard. Alison Gerrard sat drumming her fingers nervously on the lacquered surface of her antique French writing desk as she awaited his reaction. To her ears, her husband sounded flustered and evasive. How would he sound to Amir, bound to be a much harsher judge? The only saving grace, as far as she could tell, was that Conrad had disclosed nothing to the agent. If that would be enough to satisfy Sahar, Alison was about to find out. He turned away from the marbled fireplace mantel.

"Contact your staff. Have them administer the boy's next scheduled injection. I don't consider the doctor to have committed an infraction of our agreement."

Alison tried to hide her relief. She didn't love her stepson, but she didn't hate him either. And he was after all, only a child. Young Christopher didn't deserve what was happening to him. Unfortunately, as Conrad's son, he was the perfect tool to use against his father. Pity.

" Do nothing tonight. Appearances need to be preserved. Tomorrow your husband must be returned here. That will ensure no further unauthorized contact."

"But, his speech, the conference…" Alison began.

"Will not be a problem. He will suddenly be taken ill. See to it" Sahar instructed with finality and then left without another word. Alison picked up the phone.

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"You saw him? Spoke to him?" Colby asked the next morning. "I mean, he didn't seem…"

"That's just it" David returned, "he did seem. Jumpy, defensive, guilty. All of the above. About what, I don't have a clue, but something. I tried to get him to talk to me, but whatever going on, Gerrard's too scared to give anything up. He's supposed to give some big speech today. I'll try again later. Right now, I've got to pay some attention to the case I'm supposed to beworking on. What about you? Anything turn up on Alison Gerrard? "

"Huh, better question would be, what didn't. Talk about busy. David, this woman's landed on more shores than the United States Marines. Her good deeds could paper a cathedral, but, well, something smells, you know? I get this wonky vibe coming off her."

"How so?" Sinclair asked.

'I don't know man. For one thing, she's got some really interesting friends, some of whom have shown up on watch lists. And I don't like the way trouble for our people, especially in the war zones, follows her and her 'humanitarian' causes around."

"You think she's sleeping with the enemy?"

"Not sure I'm ready to go that far, yet. But I might be soon. I'll keep looking."

"Yeah, me too" David told him, pulling into the parking garage. "I'll check back later, let you know if I have any better luck with Gerrard."

"Do that. I'll tell ya, if I thought I could get away with it, I'd be back to work today! The walls are starting to close in, you know?"

Oh no, you don't, Sinclair thought. "Down! Sit! Stay!" Giving Colby no chance to respond, David ended the call, shaking his head at Granger's impatience. The same qualities that made Colby a good partner and a good FBI agent also made him detest enforced down time. Sinclair slipped his phone into a pocket as the bull-pen came in sight.

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"Keith Simmons" Don greeted Sinclair by handing him a manila folder. Inside was a booking photo and info on the late Keith, former junior partner to Clarence and Prometheus to Colby Granger's F-150.

"This was the guy we chased. Broke in to Colby's place, torched his truck" Eppes further explained.

David examined the picture then reviewed the info. "What was this guy doing in Colby's apartment? I mean, Colby says nothing's missing or out of place." He shook his head, mystified. "Not much here" he continued, referring to the file.

"Yeah, I know. And for somebody who's had as many problems with the law as this one, you'd think there would be a lot more. Morning."

"Morning boss, David." Nikki Bentancourt responded in greeting.

"What I'd really like to find out" Don continued, "is how does a guy with his track record, including a dishonorable discharge from the Navy, blow thru the light and snag a paying gig with a major player like Global ProtectX."

The private security firm Don named was well known in law enforcement circles. Not always in a good way, but well known. Contracts in both Iraq and Afghanistan, not to mentions various other hot spots on the map secured a certain reputation for the company. Their methods tended to be detrimental to innocent bystanders unfortunate enough to be caught in the crossfire. On the other hand, many of their clients both government and civilian, backed them staunchly, declaring Global ProtectX the best in the business.

Don raised a good point, considered Sinclair. How does a zero like Keith Simmons end up on the payroll of such a company?

"Even better, hey Liz." Don nodded at Liz Warner's arrival. "Even better, imagine how intrigued I was to discover that Global ProtectX is wholly owned, albeit thru about a dozen layers of legal and corporate insulation, by none other than the Lucern family." Don paused, allowing the significance of his last statement to register with David Sinclair.

"Um, could I ask a question?" Nikki put in, "Who is the Lucern family? What do they have to do with anything? I thought we were after Amir Sahar."

"Would you like to field that one Agent Sinclair, or maybe you want to get Granger on the line first?" Don nearly burst out laughing at the comically guilty look on David's face. After a few seconds, Sinclair finally spoke.

"You know?" was all he could manage.

Don rolled his chair over so that he was side by side with Sinclair. "I work for the FBI" he said in an exaggerated stage whisper. He sat back, grinning openly at the other man's sheepish expression.

"We, that is, I was going to tell you. I wanted to have more to bring to you first. This isn't a snipe hunt, Don. There really is a case here. And I'm not letting it interfere with Sahar. Frankly, I'm surprised you're not pissed, what with me trying to work two separate cases at the same time."

"David." Don said, figuring Sinclair had squirmed long enough. "I'm not sure they are two separate cases." He reached behind him and plucked another folder from his own desk. "That financial trail you put Liz and Nikki on the other day has some rather interesting landmarks along the way. He handed the folder to David. "Check out page ten."

David checked out page ten, read for a couple of minutes, raising his head to stare incredulously at Don.

"Sahar hires Global ProtectX to ride shotgun on his arms deals?!"

"Not all of 'em, but yeah, a few times. Small world, huh?"

"Yeah, listen, could we put that on pause right now? How did you find out I was helping Colby with the whole Gerrard thing?"

"Huh, Colby?" Liz interrupted. "The Lucern family I've heard of. They were involved in a case I worked on before L.A., but I don't understand how they figure in. And who is Gerrard, and, since I'm asking, I thought Colby was on medical leave. Exactly how much have I missed here?" She felt like she was playing catch up, as did Nikki.

Between the two of them, Eppes and Sinclair gave the ladies the cliffsnotes version of the last nine days, including Colby's eventful hospital stay and the mysterious phone call, and since they now knew the truck fire/break-in and subsequent chase was a part of it all, threw that in too.

"Since everybody's on the same page now, Liz, you and Nikki need to have a long talk with the Mrs. David, you and I are going have another go at her husband. Let's get moving, people."

"You never answered my question, Don" David asked as they got into the elevator. "How did you twig to my checking out Gerrard? I was really trying to stay under your radar with it." Sinclair was determined to satisfy his curiosity.

" For one thing, those feelers you put out around the intelligence community sent up a lot of red flags, which, as your fearless leader, wound up getting waved in my face. Evidently, the doctor is about to have his security clearance revoked" Don told him.

"What?! Why?"

"With his job and area of expertise, not to mention his access to certain information, some of his activities in the last few months are making a lot of people nervous, that's why. He's got much more to explain than the hospital. And this time, no tantrums allowed" Don said, keying the ignition.

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Maneuvering the FBI issue sedan as far as the estate's ornate wrought iron gate, complete with stylized "L", Liz noticed, she watched as Nikki pressed an intercom button designed to announce visitors.

"Yes?" a disembodied, tinny voice emerged from the speaker.

"FBI. We're here to speak to Mrs. Alison Gerrard" Bentancourt answered, holding up her identification. There didn't appear to be a video companion to the intercom system, but both agents assumed they were being monitored visually as well. Quiet reigned for the next thirty seconds, then the huge gate slowly slid open soundlessly. Fifty feet of red paving stone later, Warner stopped the car in front of a flight of a half dozen wide stone steps leading up to an oak and leaded glass door. She and Liz were admitted by a silent woman dressed, of course, sniffed Nikki, in a maid's black and white uniform, who ushered them into what appeared to be a sitting room. Taking a good look around, Nikki spotted at least two Remington sculptures and other art work on the walls, any one of which she would be willing to bet was both genuine and worth more than she could expect to earn if her career with the Bureau extended into her nineties (before FICA and Social Security).Taking a step, her foot sunk deeply into the oriental rug, causing a ripple in the rich fabric.

"Must be nice to be them" she muttered soto-voiced to her partner

Whatever Liz's response would have been was cut off when a tall, expensively tailored man entered the room, dentally enhanced perfect white artificial smile firmly in place. Not one of the ash blonde hairs on his hundred dollar hair cut head was out of place. He oozed elegant charisma. Liz disliked him instantly.

"Hello, ladies. I'm Jackson Lucern. I'm afraid I will have to suffice as host. My sister is not in at the moment. Please sit down, and tell me how I may be of assistance to the Federal Bureau of Investigation." He gestured towards the leather sofa behind them. Lucern took a seat in the matching arm chair on Nikki's right side.

"Luisa, bring us some coffee" he instructed imperiously.

"Mr. Lucern, "I'm Special Agent Warner, this is Special Agent Bentancourt. We really need to talk with Mrs. Gerrard. It concerns her husband. We also need to ask about your family's connection to a private security company by the name of Global ProtectX."

"Global is not only a legitimate firm, they are exceptionally good at what they do. Due to our…profile, my family has utilized their services on any number of occasions. I don't see that as a liability. What's the FBI's interest? Are they under investigation? Have they committed some offence that merits the interest of the federal government? And why would you think my family would be any way responsible in the event that they have?"

"Should they be under investigation?" Nikki asked, the attorney in her filing away the fact that Lucern had utilized the courtroom tactic of going on the offensive, rattling off a series of rapid fire questions. She recognized an attempt at diversion when she saw it.

"As I've already said, as far as I'm aware of, Global ProtectX is completely above board and highly skilled. They have an extensive list of satisfied clients, of which my family is only one. I'm sure I don't understand why you would think that we, that is, myself or any of my family members would have any knowledge of the inner workings of the company, or be privy to any transgressions on their part?" The five hundred watt glow was back. It didn't work any better on Nikki than it had on Liz.

"Why wouldn't you? The Lucern family does own Global ProtectX, right?" Nikki asked.

The perfect smile slipped a notch as the first hint of uncertainty appeared in Jack's blue eyes. He tried to recover, but couldn't quite make it work.

"To be honest, I'm not sure. I would have look into it."

Honest. You don't want to use that word, thought Nikki.

"You seem to be the type of person that would have pretty good handle on business, Mr. Lucern" Liz said.

"Our holdings are quite extensive Agent Warner. Surely you can't expect me to be familiar with every single aspect of them. Besides that, my duties as a federal prosecutor take up quite a bit of my time." Another flash of the pearly whites.

Lucern's big announcement fizzled. Both Warner and Bentancourt already knew the man was an assistant DA. Nikki had even talked to Robin Brooks on the drive to the estate. Apparently, Jack Lucern's popularity at work fell far short of intense. According to Robin, his lawyering skills left something to be desired as well. Also, Robin shared that the man was making something of a pest of himself to Colby Granger's girlfriend, Kerri Walton.

"I think the whole situation borders on sexual harassment, Nikki." Brooks shared by phone. "I said so to Kerri, but she wants handle it herself. Clearly she hasn't said anything to Colby since Lucern's not wearing a full body cast. Listen, I've got to go. Bottom line? Jack Lucern is a rich jerk who doesn't think boundaries apply to him. So be careful. Bye"

The verbal back and forth continued for another ten minutes before Warner decided to call a halt. They were spinning their wheels. Maybe Don and David would have better results. She signaled to Nikki. Once outside, Liz vented.

"Well, that was creepy. Pointless, but creepy."

"I'm glad to get out of there. He's a bad liar. And every time he looked at me I got the feeling he was trying to imagine me without any clothes on" Nikki answered, repulsed.

"I feel like I need to be dipped in Lysol. Or Clorox. Or maybe both" Warner made a gagging sound.

They sat in the car, mutually disgusted. Liz shuddered as she put the key in the ignition.

Jack watched them leave, reveling in the effect his leering manner had had on the two extremely attractive female agents. He enjoyed making beautiful, confident women feel off balance. Especially ones who imagined themselves in positions of authority. It never hurt to remind them of the proper order of things. Cell phone in hand, he hit speed dial. After one ring, his sister answered.

"I just had, in your absence, a very interesting visit from the FBI. They wanted to talk about Conrad, and Global ProtectX."

"Inconvenient timing. The product has been delivered and the second part of the transaction should be completed soon. Our people have been dispatched to the hotel to retrieve my husband. The Bureau's involvement would complicate matters considerably. We'll handle it. Go back to work We need to keep up appearances ." The siblings hung up, each with their own agendas to follow.

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David slipped on the muddy, uneven ground of the construction site, seeing stars as he banged his chin on the edge of a pile of cinder blocks. The unintentional move may have saved his life as bullets fired by the man he was chasing spanged off the brickwork over his head. Sinclair forced himself to his feet as the shooter disappeared around a corner of the half-finished building. He couldn't afford to lose sight of this guy, not after the hotel.

His and Don's arrival at Conrad Gerrard's hotel evolved from a straightforward quest for answers into a full blown shooting match in very short order. They made a stop at the front desk, gathering in a hotel rep, complete with universal card key. Stepping into the paneled, marble floored elevator, David pressed "8", and the doors closed with a hush. What he and Don could not know was that as they were headed up, Dr. Gerrard, and his Global ProtectX "security detail" were headed down and into a waiting stretch limo. Reaching suite 814, David knocked, ID ready, and announced himself.

"Dr. Gerrard, it's Agent David Sinclair, FBI. We spoke last night."

They waited. The door to suite 814 remained closed, with no acknowledgement of their presence. David tried again.

"Dr. Gerrard, open the door please. Now. We need to speak with you."

Still nothing. With an expression that spoke volumes, Don nodded to the hotel's assistant manager. The man stepped up, inserted the key, activating the door to unlock, waiting until Don gripped and turned the handle. He moved back, eyes wide as both Sinclair and Eppes made sure their weapons were readily available. Not wanting to get caught in the middle of any thing, he then retreated to the bank of elevator's, the ground floor, and his nice, safe position behind the front desk. Once there, he noted the sleek, black limousine pulling away from the VIP entrance.

At Don's signal, he and David pushed into the room, not sure what to expect. What they got was…nothing. The shower was running but Dr. Gerrard wasn't there. The room still looked occupied. The bed was unmade and a tumbler of scotch lay abandoned on the nightstand next to it. The running shower struck David as strange. Gun in hand, he walked into the bathroom, yanking back the waterproof curtain. What he saw made him stiffen in surprise. He manipulated the controls, cutting off the supply of running water.

"Don" he called, "you better get in here! You need to see this!"

His call brought Eppes in fast. They stared at the wall of the shower struggling to interpret what they saw. The doctor had apparently decided to bare his soul to the FBI after all, but too late. Written on the expensive imported tile of the shower, in indelible marker, was a message: I DID NOT WANT TO DO THIS. THEY LEFT ME NO CHOICE. IT WAS EITHER MY SON'S LIFE OR THE LIVES OF MANY OTHER SONS. I'VE CHOSEN TO SAVE MY OWN CHILD. I PRAY SOMEDAY GOD AND ALL OF THE FAMILIES WHO WILL BE LEFT TO GRIEVE MAY FORGIVE ME. I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO FORGIVE MYSELF.

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