Disclaimer: I still don't own Lie to Me.

Author's note: I'm not a psychologist so I've made it all up (in case you were in any doubt). Also, the evil cliff hanger fairy put the idea into my head. Mwahahahaha!

Chapter Ten

Tiffany rushed over to where Dr Lightman lay, apparently unconscious, closely followed by her cameraman. She reached him at the same time as the security guards, one of whom leant over Dr Lightman and said,

'Are you all right, Sir?'

Dr Lightman let out a groan and put a hand to his head without opening his eyes. Tiffany looked at the security guards and said,

'What happened?'

The security guards saw the camera and retreated hastily, saying,

'No comment.'

Tiffany turned her attention back to Dr Lightman and was pleased to see him opening his eyes. Making sure to present her best profile to the camera, she said,

'Dr Lightman, are you injured?'

Dr Lightman struggled into a sitting position and said

'Just a few bruises, darlin'. Nothin' to worry about.'

'What happened? Why were you being thrown out? Why were the guards so rough?'

Cal rubbed his hand across his face, then winced, saying,

'That wasn't the guards' fault. They were just doing their job.'

'But why were you being escorted out?'

'Because the DEA are a bunch of useless plonkers, that's why. Ridiculous waste of taxpayers money. Billions of dollars being spent by a load of middle-aged white men who spend their time pushing paper around and not achieving anything.'

'So you don't think the DEA are effective then?'

'Effective! My old granny would be more effective. They go into the deprived areas pretending to be youth workers, which by the way, means that all the genuine youth workers are completely shafted, and then they're surprised that they get made every single time. If they were serious about stopping drugs then they would recruit youngsters from the ghettos. That way they would get some agents who could actually find out who the major players are. Instead, they spend a fortune covering each other's arses and racking up expenses.'

Cal continued to rant, enjoying the opportunity to let out some of his anger. Tiffany smiled and nodded and made sure to ask leading questions so that Dr Lightman would continue to talk. After his rant had slowed down Tiffany asked him what he was going to do next. He smiled at her, saying,

'I'm going to find my mate Mario, buy him a few drinks and then take him to meet some friends of mine.'

Gillian was walking up and down in her room, trying to pretend that she was on an afternoon stroll when the door opened again. She smiled at the young man as he came towards her carrying a bag gingerly. He held it out to her, saying,

'There you go, Aunt Gillian.'

His tone was sarcastic but Gillian felt a thrill of achievement going through her at his words. He probably had no idea how significant it was for him to refer to her as his aunt, but Gillian knew that her chances of survival had just increased significantly. She advanced to meet him taking the bag from him and opening it to look inside. As well as the tampons and a packet of ibuprofen there were two large bars of chocolate. Starting to salivate slightly at the thought of the chocolate, Gillian smiled brightly at the young man, saying,

'What a lovely nephew you are. Thank you.'

The young man shuffled his feet, clearly embarrassed and said,

'Yeah, well, the girl at the checkout desk thought that you'd like some chocolate.'

'She was right.'

Gillian glanced swiftly at him again, accurately assessing his posture and hesitancy. Amused, she asked,

'Was she pretty?'

'Who?'

'The girl at the checkout desk.'

'Yeah.'

'Did you ask her out?'

'No. Buying… you know… it's not…'

'Not conducive to a romantic atmosphere?'

'Yeah.'

'I'm sure I can think of some other things I need. If you wanted an excuse to go back there, that is?'

'Maybe.'

He turned to go so Gillian said,

'Thank you again for getting these. I'm sorry that I had to ask you to.'

'S'all right.'

He left and Gillian resumed her exercise, determined not to let herself get completely out of shape.

Cal sauntered casually towards his car, making sure to limp slightly. Once he was safely driving away he left his mask drop slightly and grimaced; Edding's refusal to even see him meant that he was now on Plan C, which was not where he'd hoped to be. Driving rapidly back to the office he quickly ran through the elements of Plan C in his mind. By the time that he was walking through the doors he had his to-do list ready and laid out in his mind.

First he stopped off at Anna's desk, giving her a smile and a wink as he said,

'Keep an eye on the local news for me, luv.'

Anna smirked but said demurely,

'Yes, Dr Lightman.'

Cal's next stop was the small conference room. Bernard looked up expectantly as he walked in, saying,

'How did you get on?'

'Terribly,' said Cal, 'the bugger wouldn't even see me.'

'Damn. So you weren't able to find anything out then?'

'Fortunately for us, his secretary has one of the most open faces I've ever come across; Dave is in a safe house somewhere. Do you know where the DEA safe houses are?'

'No but I should be able to find out. I'll make some calls.'

Cal nodded and left.

He found Torres and Loker together in the lab looking at footage of the local gangs provided by the FBI and DCPD. They both looked up hopefully as Cal entered the lab. Ria read his frustration and anger and turned back to the footage without a word but Eli had never been able to read Cal so asked,

'Did you find him?'

'Not yet,' said Cal tersely, 'any luck narrowing down which gang it is?'

'Possibly,' said Ria, 'we've got one definite match to a member of the Four Corners gang.'

'It's not conclusive though,' said Eli, 'he could have changed gangs.'

'That's incredibly unlikely,' said Ria.

'True,' said Eli, 'but I don't feel happy going with just one definite identification.'

'How much more footage have you got?' asked Cal.

'A lot,' said Ria ruefully.

'Keep at it,' said Cal, 'I need to know for certain who we're dealing with.'

Eli and Ria turned back to the screen and started looking again.

Cal paced in his office for an hour, trying to put off the inevitable but eventually forced him self to pick up his phone and dialed. After just a couple of rings the phone was answered,

'Radar Associates, how may I help you?'

'I need to speak to Radar.'

'May I know who's calling?'

Cal forced down the urge to suggest that she try and guess, knowing that some PR moron had undoubtedly written the script that the switchboard operator was using; it wasn't her fault that she sounded like she'd shoved a broom up her arse.

'Doctor Cal Lightman.'

'Putting you through now.'

Cal waited impatiently, shifting from foot to foot. After a few seconds he heard Jack Radar's voice saying,

'Cal, any news?'

'Nothing I can share.'

'Right. What can I do to help?'

'I need a source inside the DEA.'

'I…'

'Do you have one or not?'

'No. The DEA have never used us. I assumed that they used you whenever they needed deception detection.'

'No. The only time we approached them they told us that they had no need of our services. Crap!'

'I'll ask around. I take it it's urgent.'

'Yeah. Couldn't get any more bloody urgent, in fact.'

'I'll call if I get anything.'

Cal hung up without saying anything else. He knew that he ought to thank Radar but the words stuck in his craw. Besides, they both knew that Jack Radar wasn't doing it for him but for Gillian who he both respected and desired. Cal had no problem with the respect but he had been extremely unhappy when Radar had started sending Gillian flowers and inviting her out to dinner. As it happened, Gillian had not been interested, which was fortunate as it had saved him from having to explain exactly why he and Radar had gone their separate ways. Radar had been disloyal, underhanded and dishonest but Cal had handled the situation atrociously, causing a minor problem to escalate until the fallout affected everyone involved. It was one of the ways in which Gillian was so amazing; she could mediate without patronising or taking sides.

Thinking about Gillian made him realise that he was procrastinating again. Knowing that he was about to sell his soul, he picked up his phone and dialled again, eventually being put through to 'John Smith' at the Pentagon. He cut through John's insincere enquiries about how he was holding up, saying,

'I need a list of all of the DEA's safe houses.'

'That might be possible…'

'One mission. Europe or USA.'

'Three missions, Middle East.'

'You have got to be bloody joking, mate! I'm too old to survive three missions in the Middle East. I'd be bloody lucky to survive one.'

'Two missions. One Europe, one wherever I choose.'

'Agreed.'

'I'll get the list to you by the end of the day.'

Cal ended the call and began to pace his office again, stopping every five minutes to check his emails.
Two hours later a courier dropped an envelope at Reception containing a list of addresses in and around DC. Cal took the list into the small conference room and handed it over to Bernard, saying,

'This should be a list of all the DEA safe houses in DC.'

Bernard looked knowingly at Cal and said,

'I assume that I don't want to know how you got this?'

'Bloody right you don't. Let's just say that the tooth fairy bought it shall we?'

'How reliable is this tooth fairy likely to be?' asked Agent Williams sardonically.

'About as reliable as a crooked realtor but since he wants me to do something for him, the list is probably accurate.'

'Right, let's start figuring out how to get into all of these addresses as quickly as possible then.'

Gillian woke as the door to her room opened and the now familiar figure of her tormentor came in. He came over to the bed and shined his torch in her eyes, saying,

'Hello, slut. Miss me?'

Gillian stayed quiet and lowered her eyes submissively, showing him fear, hoping to appease his lust for power. He sniggered and said,

'I thought we'd play a game tonight.'

Gillian's eyes snapped up to his in horror as he pulled a cushion out from behind his back and leant over.

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