De Villiers sat quietly at his desk, his eyes flicking across the computer screen in front of him as he watched the live satellite feed. The picture was grainy but he could see make out the figures moving in on the glowing white figures grouped together at the centre of the picture. He watched silently for a few more minutes and then clicked the mouse to shut the image on the computer down. He turned and looked out of the window for a moment lost in thought, as though trying to come to decision. Finally, he smiled ruefully to himself and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket; flicking it open he pushed a number and waited for the other end of the line to answer.
Edgerton walked into the bull pen with two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. He handed one to Don and took a tentative sip from the other. Don grabbed the cup with one hand, in his other he held a manila file with a picture of the young Brotherhood member Simpson clipped to the outside edge. He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced.
"Fourth best shot you may be but your coffee could probably kill more people!" Edgerton just shrugged and carried on drinking.
"This guy Simpson was wanted in Nevada for…." Don was waving the file as he spoke but he was cut off by the sound of his cell. With a sigh he tossed the file onto his desk and flipped open his phone.
"Eppes" Edgerton watched as Don said nothing, only listened. Skilled at reading people, he abandoned his coffee and grabbed his coat from a chair by Don's desk. He nodded tersely to Reeves and Sinclair who were on the other side of the bull pen and they hurried over. Don snapped his phone shut and looked at his team.
"That was De Villiers"
"The guy who shot Colby" Sinclair stated simply.
"Things may not be what they seem. Where's Charlie?" Don looked around the room but there was no sign of his brother. He shifted his position for a better look and Megan, sensing the sudden tension in her boss looked across at the others who all looked equally puzzled.
"He went back to CalSci" she said.
"Megan, Ian, I want you to go and stay with him. Keep an eye on him. De Villiers says that when he last spoke to Van de Burgh, he was spouting some crap about how he could get back at the FBI something about , uh…exploiting a weakness"
"Don, Charlie isn't the weak spot in the team and anyway, does Van de Burgh even know about Charlie?" Megan protested. Don stopped to consider what Megan had said. He didn't feel guilty about his assumption, he was only too aware that that was how some people saw his little brother and it brought all his protective instincts to the surface. He also knew that men like Van de Burgh knew exactly where to apply pressure; their business and sometimes lives depended on it.
"Colby!" it was Sinclair voice that cut across Don's thoughts as he that blurted out his partner's name. "Van de Burgh may know that he isn't dead." He was grabbing his coat and his keys as he spoke. Don nodded
"Megan and Ian, I still want you to head over to Charlie's, just to be sure, I wouldnt put anything past these guys. He looked at Sinclair, "let's go"
The car ride to the hospital seemed to take far too long. David found himself leaning forward in his seat as his boss weaved in and out of traffic, siren's wailing. He dialled Alan Eppes, hoping to catch his boss's father, warn him if neceassary. Alan answered after the third ring.
"Alan, it's David Sinclair. Where are you?"
"I'm at the house with Alicia. Is there a problem?" David looked across at Don and nodded reassuringly. He knew his boss was worried that his father would get caught in the cross fire. He could see Don's shoulders relax a little. "No, no, everything is fine. I'll speak to you later" Don pulled into the hospital and just about drove into the lobby, abandoning the SUV at the bottom of the entrance steps. The pair dashed in and ran for the elevators, by some miracle one pinged open almost instantly. They dived inside and pulled their guns as the doors closed.
The click of his room door rose Colby from the depths of sleep. He murmured and then opened his eyes, expecting to see his mother or Alan back in the room. As he turned his head he saw a figure in scrubs pushing a syringe into his drip bag. Looking at the clock, he frowned, it wasn't time for any pain meds and he was keen to keep to the schedule, hoping to start to reduce the medication he was taking. He went to lift the arm of his good side to tap the medic but to his horror to would only move a little way. He snapped his head round and saw that he was handcuffed by the wrist to the rail of the bed. He shook it furiously a few times, ignoring the pain in his side.
"What the hell is going on?" he snapped at the doctor who had finished, although he left the needle hanging in the bag. As he turned to face Colby, the FBI agent went cold, he knew that face. He tried to sit up, swing his legs out of bed but the man who had put him into the bed in the first place pushed him back onto the mattress.
"You and your friends have caused me a lot of problems. Nothing I can't make my way back from but I will admit that it is a set back. You meddled where you shoudn't"
Colby coughed out a short laugh. "Next you will be saying that we are pesky, meddling kids"
Van de Burgh pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. He leaned in towards Colby.
"Now, you have to understand that this is business, it is nothing personal. But I need to take some action that will buy me back some kudos and the death of an FBI agent will do nicely."
"What have you done?" Colby was feeling drowsy. Whatever the South African had injected into him was starting to take effect.
"Oh, that? Nothing. A harmless sedative to keep you quiet. You're a big man and I think that without it you may have been difficult to handle, injured or not."
"I know you. You're the one that shot me" Colby could hear that his words were slurred and his voice sounded far away. Van de Burgh nodded.
"I didn't kill you then but I do like to see a job through, bru."
"You can get therapy for OCDs like that" Colby was hanging on but he could feel the room slipping away.
Van de Burgh pulled a large hunting knife and a handgun out of a bag he had set on the floor. As the South African placed the knife on the bed covers, Colby's eyes widened in fear. He pulled half heartedly at the handcuffs but he could feel his strength was deserting him. He was frantically fighting sleep but despite his efforts the edges of the room were turning black. He opened his mouth to call for help. Van de Burgh saw what he was about to do and clamped a hand over it. With his other hand he pressed hard onto the bullet wound, ripping stitches and tearing skin as he did so. Pain screamed through Granger but it was mercifully cut short as he blacked out, the combination of the drugs and the pain finally seizing him and dragging him down into darkness.
Don and Sinclair raced along the corridor, Don ran to the nursing station, whilst David kept going to Colby's room. He glanced in through the window before he burst through the door. The doctor sitting in the chair next to Colby leapt to his feet. Maybe David was in time. Maybe it was not about Colby at all. He did a quick sweep of the room and then lowered his weapon. He put one hand up to reassure the startled doctor.
"Sorry. Has else anyone been in here?"
Van de Burgh shrugged, afraid that his accent would give him away. He almost felt sorry for the agent standing in front of him seeing the relief on his face. David took a step towards his partner's bedside. His sixth sense was tingling, something was out of place, something was wrong. Then he saw it, the syringe hanging out of Colby's drip. He turned to see that Van de Burgh had seen it too, the South African was already lifting his gun to shoot David but Sinclair was faster, his actions given speed by the rage, desperation and frustration he had felt since Van de Burgh's bullet had smashed into his partner. He fired two shots in quick succession, the force of the bullets throwing Van de Burgh backwards and away from the bed, killing him before he even hit the floor. Don smashed through the door, gun raised. Sinclair glanced behind him and nodded, keeping his boss covered whilst Don went over and kicked the gun away from the still figure on the floor, keeping his trained on him all the time. Don bent and felt for a pulse. He was stil for a moment then finally he straightened up.
"He's dead." Pushing his gun back into its holster he turned attention to his agent in the hospital bed. David was already outside yelling for help. A doctor came in and pulled the syringe out of the bag and looked at it. He turned to the two agents, holding up the instrument.
"Do you know what was in this?" He demanded. They both shook their heads.
"Talk to him. Say anything. I'm going to find out what was in this." He pulled back the sheets before he went and looked at the bullet wound.
"No real damage. It's superficial" and with that he swept out of the room.
"Colby? C'mon man, not again." Don had gripped the younger agent's face and was shaking it a little to try to elicit a response.