Chapter 11

The group gathered around the screen, watching the blinking light that was the Envoy intently. "It's moving again," said the technician. Don watched the blip on the screen. It was now headed for a rough part of town, a Latino district. Close to one of the drug-slayings, Don thought.

"They must have stopped for food and water at the convenience store," said Colby.

Don's heart jumped. "What if they dropped him off there?"

Merrick frowned. "Already? Not likely. There's one way to find out."

Megan headed for a phone. "I'm on it," she said. "Westmoreland, right?" Don watched her impatiently as she dialed and spoke to someone on the other end. Looking up with chagrin, she shook her head, even as she finished the call.

They watched the blip enter the barrio district and begin turning down side streets. "Where the heck are they going?" asked David. The blip slowed, and then stopped.

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Don and his team arrived in the area forty minutes later. They had waited twenty minutes, watching the screen, and when the blip did not restart, Merrick decided to deploy. He had second thoughts about sending them out – he knew they were exhausted both physically and mentally – but he also knew he had a snowball's chance in hell of talking them out of it. He was watching Don, and all of them, closely. He was not convinced that Don should be on the case, but he conceded that if they found Charlie quickly, he was willing to allow it. If not, well, that would depend on how Don was handling it, he thought. One thing was for sure, if Don remained on the case, Merrick was going to oversee every move. There was no way the Director would allow it otherwise.

Before they entered the neighborhood, Don confirmed that the Envoy was still stopped. They found it easily on a side street. Colby and David had cruised past it to get a look and found it apparently empty. Now they were approaching the vehicle, guns drawn. A group of Latino boys sat on stoop nearby, looking on curiously, apparently not perturbed at all by the guns.

Don tentatively tried the door. It was locked. He pulled out keys and hit the automatic unlock. The agents surrounded the vehicle and opened all of the doors at once, guns drawn, checking the floors. Empty. Megan peered into the back, over the seat. Empty. Don slammed the door shut, frustration and fear welling up inside him, then hit the door with his fist.

One of the boys called out. "Hey man, who you lookin' for?"

Don looked over at him. "You see anybody get out of this vehicle?"

Several of them shook their heads, but one of them spoke. "Yeah, man, what's it worth?"

Don's eyes narrowed as he looked at the kids. "They should be in school," he thought as he walked over the group, trailed by his team. "Depends on what you got."

The boy eyed him for a minute, deciding whether to push for money. He caught the look in Don's eyes and the ugly bruise on his jaw and decided against it. Best not to make trouble, here. "I was upstairs," he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the building behind him. "looking out the window, waitin' for my boys to show up. This, like, SUV pulls up. There were -," he stopped to count. "Six people got out. Five men and one woman. There were lookin' around, like, to see if anyone was watchin.'"

Don exchanged looks with his team and turned back to the boy. "One woman? Are you sure?"

"Yeah man. She was maybe five-seven, dark hair. One of the men had a big beard."

"Only one had a beard?" asked Colby.

"Yeah, just one."

"What did they do when they got out?"

"They just took off down the street," the boy waved his hand vaguely to the left.

"You didn't see a man with a bloody shirt?" asked Don. "Dark curly hair?"

"No man, no one like that."

"They didn't get in any other cars?"

"No, I didn't see no other cars on the street."

"What did the other men look like?"

"I dunno. Just like normal white dudes. One of them had a red jacket."

Don walked over to the side of the Envoy with his team, brooding. Where did the woman come from? He looked up at the windows of the apartment building. The boy was close enough that distance wouldn't factor into a mis-identification. Only one man had a beard – four of five of their captors had heavy beards. This was a different group of people. When did they make the switch? Had to be at the convenience store, he thought.

"Okay," said Don. "They had to have some vehicles nearby. We'll get LAPD down here and start asking around the neighborhood – see if there were any cars parked on the side streets, or if anyone else saw them. I want to check out that convenience store. They switched vehicles with these people – it had to be there."

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Don looked at the surveillance video from the store in frustration. The convenience store had three cameras - one inside, one trained on the small six-car lot in the front of the store, and one on the back lot. There was no tape from the camera in back – it had been broken the night before. The inside tape clearly showed one of their captors enter the store, and buy food and bottled water. The outside tape from the front was what didn't make sense.

The tape was trained on the front parking lot, and picked up the first part of the driveway next to the store that went to the back parking lot. They could clearly see the Envoy with Smith in the passenger seat, and Charlie silhouetted in the back, enter the driveway, then pull out of sight as it headed toward the back lot. Smith's man came in shortly afterward, bought the food and water, then left. When the Envoy pulled out, it turned right, and from the side view they could see that the man that had bought the food and water was in the front passenger seat. The man in the second seat was turned towards Charlie's direction; they could not see his face, but he looked like Smith from the back. Apparently they hadn't pulled the switch at the convenience store after all. "Then where?" Don wondered silently.

"Why would he change seats?" Megan wondered aloud as she watched the tape. At Don's look she said, "Smith. He likes to be in control. Why would he give up the passenger seat in front?"

Don thought grimly, "So he could sit next to Charlie and torment him," but he didn't say it aloud as his father was sitting in the room with them. Amita and Larry had left, disappointed, after they found that Charlie was not with the Envoy; they had called off that day, but decided reluctantly that they should try to make afternoon classes. Amita took Alan's cell phone number, and Alan promised to keep them updated. They left, exhausted and with heavy hearts.

The technician had frozen the frame of the Envoy leaving the driveway, just as it turned into the street. David was staring at it. "You know, he's not all the way turned around," he said, pointing at the man in the second seat. "You can see a little part of his face. Can you zoom in?"

The technician obliged. The only part of the man's face that was visible was the back of his jaw. David's eyes narrowed. "Do you see that?" They sat forward looking but no one spoke. "No beard!" exclaimed Colby suddenly. "There's enough of his jaw there that you would see part of his beard."

"Right," said David. "That means that it's not Smith. The only one it could be would be the guy with the mustache."

Don was focused intently on the picture. "What if they did make the switch?" he said aloud. "The only one of them that we know for sure was in the Envoy when it left was the guy that went into the convenience store. What if all the rest of them were different people? Back up a few frames. Stop." The technician had stopped at the back view of the Envoy. "Can you get a little better resolution?" The tech adjusted the contrast until they could see the outline of heads through the back window. "That video camera's not that great. All they need are the right number of people in the van, and a couple by the windows that looked like Smith or his men, and it would look like them pulling out."

Megan took a breath. "They had this set up ahead of time. They probably figured we'd be tracking them, and since they stopped there, we'd look at the video. They're trying to make us think they switched vehicles somewhere else."

"Right," said Don. "That's why they broke the camera in back. The question is; where did the rest of them go? Run the tape again." They watched from the point where the Envoy entered the lot. A few minutes later, a navy blue van exited the lot. "There," said Don, pointing, "that dark blue van. Wait till it turns, then zoom in on the driver." The tech did, and they took in their breath collectively. The image was grainy and the face in shadow, but all of them recognized the guard. "That's the guy without the beard," said Don. "What do you want to bet that Charlie is in the back of that van?"

Merrick stood watching from the doorway. "Can you see plates?" The technician ran the footage of the van again, slowly. The camera angle was set too high to pick up the plates until after the van made the turn, and then it was sideways to the camera. Don slammed the table with frustration. "Damn it!" He turned away from the screen and caught his father looking at him with his eyebrows raised, and Merrick's steely stare. He turned back and rubbed a hand over his forehead, and sat down heavily in the nearest chair.

"Let's take a break," suggested Merrick. "I ordered food." The team exchanged tired glances, but no one spoke as another technician brought in a box of sandwiches. Alan moved from his seat in the back of the room to one closer to Don. He couldn't begin to describe the impatience he felt at the process, but he also felt concern for his oldest son. "You need to get some sleep," he said quietly to Don. He noticed that Don was making no move toward the food. "You need to eat too. You'll be no good to Charlie if you don't take of yourself."

"I'm not hungry," said Don gruffly. "Even if I was, I can't eat with this tooth." White-hot pain stabbed his tooth whenever he took a breath – he couldn't even breathe without pain, much less eat. Alan's hovering wasn't improving his mood. He shot a scowl at his father, and said dismissively, "You ought to go home, Dad." Alan sat for a moment, watching him, then got up and left the room.

"You know," said Megan suddenly, over a bite of sandwich, "we've only been looking at the tail end of this. What about when they got here? Someone had to drop them off, right?"

Don straightened. "Pull up our building video, front of the building," he said to the tech. He thought for a moment. "Start with 6:45 a.m. yesterday."

They watched intently as traffic moved past the building entrance. "Hey, check it out," said David. "Dark blue van." They leaned forward trying to get a view of the occupants.

"There's a woman driving it," said Don. "Short dark hair. Yep, that's one of the guards in the passenger seat. That's our baby." There was a car in front of the van, which was waiting to pull in front of the building, but couldn't move up far enough to do it because the car was in the way. "Come on, come on, pull in," said Don. "Let's see those plates."

"They're tired of waiting. They're getting out right there," said Colby. The van was still stuck behind the car, which was not moving. They watched silently as Smith and the group piled out of the van, crossed the loading space and moved onto the sidewalk

"Look – there's Charlie," exclaimed Megan. They could see Charlie's figure, a short distance away, move closer and enter the building just after the men. "Wow, he walked right in behind them." Don said nothing. His heart wrenched at the sight of his brother, walking freely up the sidewalk, when now……..

"Come on, car, move," said Don impatiently. Traffic finally started to clear, and the car inched forward, the van on its tail. "Back off," he said to the van. "Slow the tape down," he said to the technician. The car and van moved slowly forward together, the van still on the car's tail, and passed off the screen, the plates still not visible. Nothing. "Shit!" Don swore. He stood abruptly and tossed a notepad across the room in a fury, and stormed out.

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They had been driving for a couple of hours. Charlie sat on the hard metal floor of the van, shifting to try to find a comfortable position. Smith was on the cell phone again. As soon as he hung up, Charlie spoke in a low voice. "I thought you were going to drop me off."

Smith frowned at him. "We got a long ways to go, boy. We aren't anywhere near ready to let go of you yet." Charlie stomach turned in a combination of fear and frustration, but he said nothing. Smith chewed on the inside of his cheek a minute, staring at Charlie. Finally he asked, "What kind of professor are you, anyway?" Charlie just scowled and looked away.

"If you know what's good for you, you better answer me, boy," snarled Smith.

Charlie sent a wary glance at him. "Math. I teach math." Silently, he added, "And quit calling me 'boy'." He looked away, hoping Smith would end the conversation.

"So what does a math professor do for the FBI?"

Grudgingly, Charlie said, "I consult on cases - statistics, probability theory, stuff like that."

"You work with your brother a lot? He use you on a lot of his cases?"

'Some."

Smith leaned forward with a nasty smile. "I'll bet he'd be using you on this one if he could, wouldn't he?" Charlie didn't answer, just looked away with his jaw clenched. "He's probably going to be hard pressed without you, now, won't he?"

Charlie turned, with his eyes blazing. "He doesn't need my help on any case. He'd solve them anyway. I just speed things up. And he sure doesn't need my help on this one."

Smith's eyes had grown dark, and his jaw had taken an angry set at Charlie's outburst. He asked, in a deceptively soft voice, "And why is that, Dr. Eppes?"

"Because he's a hell of a lot smarter than you are!" retorted Charlie angrily. He saw Smith's arm go up, and he tried to shift out of his reach, but he was against the metal side of the van. The backhand hit him with tremendous force, and the world went white. He was unconscious even before his head hit the metal behind him.

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Outside the conference room, Don placed both hands on a filing cabinet and leaned forward, head down, trying to control his rising frustration. He didn't notice that his father was standing beside him until he heard his voice. "I spoke to Dr. Wilton, son. He says he can put a temporary crown on that tooth in a half hour, and it will hold you for a week. He said he would squeeze you in any time today – you won't have to wait –,"

Don spun to face him, angrily. "There is no way in hell I'm going to the dentist, Dad, are you crazy? Charlie's in a van with a bunch of lunatics, and you think I'm going to the dentist?!"

He heard Merrick's voice behind him. "I need you in the conference room, Agent Eppes." Don turned and saw the hard look on Merrick's face, then looked back and saw the disturbed look on his father's. He put his head down and followed Merrick back into the room.

As they walked in, Colby was saying, "If Charlie was here, he'd use that traffic flow program he developed – what was that called? He could tell us how far that van had gotten in any direction -," he stopped abruptly when he saw Don and Merrick.

Merrick said to Don, "Sit down." Stepping back slightly, he addressed the group. "I've been assessing whether or not I should keep all of you on this case. You were after all, victims yourselves, which is traumatic, you are overtired, and you are looking for one of your own. All of this would serve to cloud your judgment." The team exchanged worried glances. "I left you on the case this morning, in part, because I thought we had a chance of finding Charlie quickly, and in part because I wanted to observe you."

He looked around the room. "I have come to the conclusion that for the most part you are operating quite well. We have come to a point; however, where you have done all that you can for the moment. The media vultures are still circling, looking for the latest on this case. We can use that to our advantage. We will circulate a still picture of the van to all news stations, and of course to all law enforcement offices. The other agents in this office are perfectly capable of answering the phones, and taking leads. I will also put someone to work on ID'ing the woman in the van. My point is, there will likely be a period of time here where others can fill your shoes. I would like you to go home for a few hours, clean up and get some sleep. If you can perform that simple task, I will let you back in here at 6:00 p.m." The team looked at each other, but did not move. Don was shaking his head to himself. Merrick spoke again sharply. "That was not a request." With resigned looks, the agents began to rise. "Eppes, you stay here." The rest of them filed out, glancing at Don, who had his head down, and his jaw set.

Merrick sat down next to him. "When I said 'operating quite well' for the most part, I wasn't necessarily referring to you." Don's head shot up, a look of protest on his face. "You appear to me to be ready to implode," continued Merrick. "If you want to stay on this case, you need to get a grip on yourself. That starts with getting the medical attention you need, and getting some food, and a few hours rest. Your father just made the first part easy for you. Go get your tooth done, and go home. Come back at six."

"Six p.m.," said Don, chagrined. "That's too long."

"I'll make you a deal," said Merrick. "If something hot comes up, I will call you and your team out immediately. That is more than fair."

Don's shoulders slumped in defeat. He nodded. "Good," said Merrick. "Close up. I'll let your father know." He left the room. Don sat for just a moment, his head in his hands. "Charlie, where are you?" he whispered.

The object of his thoughts was at that moment hurtling northward on the highway, nearly two hundred and fifty miles away, oblivious to the world.

---------------------------End Chapter 11------------------------------------------