Disclaimer: The Numb3rs characters are fun to play with, but they're not mine. I wish they were...but they're not.
Thank you everyone who reviews. Thank you everyone who reads. ALEO--he he he! Better money, better hours...
I am looking for a math tutor of sorts for my next fic. I'm going to try to write Charlie, but my skills aren't up to the challenge. If anyone knows about check kiting, SARs or CTRs, please let me know?
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Don's SUV pulled up to the front of the James' house. He parked it next to two marked LAPD cruisers (the neighbors must LOVE this he thought), and he and Megan got out. They were walking toward the front door when David opened it, releasing the strong aroma of marijuana and the sound of a loud (AND FILTHY!) voice into the quiet neighborhood. Don's eyebrows quirked up. "You boys called for some help?"
David smiled. "Yeah. I think we've made LAPD's year, and I think we might have a line on Rust." He led his boss into the living room. Pointing, he began, "In this corner we have Mr. Sam James and his significant other, whose name we haven't yet gotten." He motioned to the fat man and the woman on the couch. Don got a bit too close and the woman surged forward, trying to bite his arm. He stepped back. Next, David gestured to the pile of garbage bags (five now, though that seemed to be all of it) in the middle of the room "And over in this corner we have these fine American business-people's fine American product—about 55 pounds of pot, already sold to Daniel Rust. Unfortunately, Mr. Rust is a bit late in picking up his shipment, but the proprietors of this family business seem fairly sure he'll be around. You see, Rust has already paid for the drugs."
David was smiling, and Don returned it with his patented grin. "So what you're saying is that you'd like permission to set up a little surprise for Danny Rust."
"That's the general idea."
"Sounds like a good one." Don became serious again. He pointed at the LAPD officers, standing to one side of the tableau. "OK, first step, let's get those patrol cars out of sight."
Once the patrol cars and his own SUV were parked two blocks away and around the corner (one of the cops stayed to keep watch on the cars and the still screaming woman they'd plunked down in the back seat of one of them), the group got down to real planning. Once the plan was settled, Don grumbled "now all we need is for Rust to actually show up."
It didn't take long. Don had only had to check his wristwatch about 16 times before the doorbell rang. On Don's nod, Sam James answered the door. Rust stepped in, looked at the pile in the living room, and wet his lips. "It's all here?"
James nodded, trying to look like he wasn't about to pass out from nerves. Concealed around corners, Don and three cops held their breath.
"Yeah. It's there. Pull your car around back and we'll load up."
Rust headed out to pull his car into the back yard while Don took a deep breath. The LAPD officers lowered their weapons from the half-ready positions they'd taken. Through his earpiece, Don heard Megan's voice. "The car is empty. Jordan's not with him."
"Got it," answered Don. "Ready boys?" He got affirmatives from David and Colby, down the street in their FBI sedan.
Megan watched from behind a shed as Rust's car backed up to the house's rear door and Rust and James loaded the garbage bags into the trunk. Neither said a word. When the bags were loaded, Rust took a quick look around, got back in his car, and pulled off. He didn't notice the black sedan following about a block behind him.
"Headed south on Douglas St," reported David over the comlink.
The fat man had reentered the house, Megan right behind him. One of the LAPD officers snapped cuffs on him and began walking toward where his partner was waiting with their car. "Hey," the man snapped at Don. "You remember what you said."
Don nodded at him. The man had a bad night to look forward to—LAPD had recovered almost half a kilo of cocaine in addition to the pot, not to mention whatever the woman had managed to flush—but he'd earned more than a few kind words from Don to the DA. His sentence would be long, but not as long as it could have been. The policeman led the felon out into the fading LA twilight. Don checked his watch. It was almost 9pm. Megan watched him do it and sighed. Don blushed, just a little. The two agents headed toward Don's SUV, leaving processing of the drug dealers' house to LAPD.
"Headed west on Wallace." Reported David's voice over Megan's earpiece as she and Don hopped into Don's SUV.
"Got it." Responded Don. "We're going to head over to Bellevue and see if we can pick him up before he gets onto the 101." The SUV intercepted Rust's blue sedan and followed it onto the highway, allowing Colby to turn off down a side street. The more often the agents could trade off their surveillance slots, the less likely Rust was to realize he was being followed. Rust headed north on the 101 with Don and Megan close behind. He was driving carefully lest he be pulled over for speeding with five bags of Mary Jane in his trunk. Colby crossed under the freeway to parallel it on Temple. As soon as Rust and Don were out of sight, David flipped on the siren and lights, and Colby hit the gas, hoping that the light traffic this time of night would allow them to get past Rust on the side street and hop back onto the 101 to take their turn behind the man's car.
In the end, Colby didn't end up needing to get on the 101 in front of Rust. He and David caught up with Don's SUV exiting the highway behind Rust's sedan ten minutes later. The SUV turned away from the trail nonchalantly, and Colby tucked in behind Rust to follow him east on Silver Lake Blvd. A few minutes later, Colby cruised by Rust as he parked in front of an apartment building on the corner of Marathon and Robinson. David called the location in to Don and Megan. Colby took a left at the next corner and parked the car in an available spot.
Don and Megan weren't long in joining them, and a raid team was only a few minutes behind the team leader's SUV. A few questions asked of a helpful neighbor indicated that Rust's apartment was on the top floor Isn't it always that way thought Colby, Guy's always on the top floor of a walkup when we've gotta wear body armor and carry heavy raid equipment. Especially when it's hot out.
The team approached slowly, taking up positions on one side of a hallway and down a staircase. Don raised three fingers, then dropped them one at a time, counting down. As the last finger fell, Colby slammed a ram into the apartment door. Twelve heavily armed men and women rushed into the apartment, screaming "FBI!!" at the top of their lungs. Rust never had a chance. A member of the raid team had him on the ground and was slamming handcuffs on the man's wrists within seconds.
Jordan was in the bathroom, physically unharmed, but terrified. She cried as David led her out of the apartment and down the stairs. She didn't even look at Rust, sprawled on the floor.