The Perfect Path in the Pie
Chapter 11 - Sympathy for the Devil
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Disclaimer: I do not own BONES. I also do not own 'Sympathy for the Devil', by The Rolling Stones.
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A/N: Happy New Year everyone! May 2011 bring you everything that you hope for. I was inundated by plot bunnies, so this chapter turned into another monster...oops! But happily, the next couple are already done, so will be following along in short order.
Friday, March 18th 2011, Washington D.C. (9th Day of Lent)
The forensics platform of the Jeffersonian was a hive of activity; even though it was only 7:00 a.m. Dr. Camille Saroyan was playing Taskmistress to the dozens of squints and FBI techs who had swelled the ranks at the Jeffersonian during the past four days. Workstations were shared, much to the disdain of the home team, and temporary workstations had been set up along the inner corridors of the main lab, making the outer corridors that ran along the walls of the building far too busy to be their usual place for a quiet conversation.
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Brennan swiped her access card and entered the still restricted central platform, where Cam was handing out schedules and instructions to Jeffersonian staff.
"Mr. Fisher, your mission for today, whether or not you choose to accept it, is to use whatever means necessary to ensure that the batching of bone samples through the electron microscopes and Mass Spectrometers is not subverted by Jeffersonian staff trying to cut short their Friday workload. The order of testing is not decided by number of PhD's (she eyed Hodgins), position on the leader board of the Fantasy Football League (she eyed Wendell), or by those wanting to tally brown-nose points with Dr. Brennan (she eyed Daisy). Any changes to testing schedules, including the insertion of priority samples into the queue, go through me. No exceptions. Are we all clear?" asked Cam.
A jumbled chorus of assent and grumbles met the announcement.
"Okay, people!" announced Cam. "You know the drill. Attention to detail. Communicate...and please, watch the caffeine intake. Yesterday was like coupon day at Starbucks. Regroup for the task-force briefing at midday. Thank you."
The team scattered.
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"Dr. Brennan. Welcome back!" said Cam.
"Thank you, Dr. Saroyan. It's good to be back. The efforts of the Jeffersonian lab impressed the task-force team in Chicago. I informed them that our efficiency is primarily due to your leadership here," said Brennan with a small smile, as she buttoned up her lab coat.
Cam did a double-take and frowned. "Well, um, thank you, for your support. Can I ask if everything is okay with you? You seem a little, well, off-kilter..."
Brennan continued smiling. "I'm fine. The Chicago trip was very productive; we have several strong leads on the No Han Han. I also met with my publisher and got an advance on my new book."
"Wow, you're writing again?" asked Cam.
"Yes," replied Brennan, logging into a workstation and pulling up the list of lab results awaiting her review and verification. "Hence, the large cheque from my publisher. Do you have concerns that my writing will compete with the demands of my work here at the Jeffersonian? Because I managed to produce my other books under identical conditions..."
"I'm well aware of that Dr. Brennan," said Cam dryly. "But when you wrote your previous books, you never seemed to have any problems dressing yourself."
Brennan frowned and turned away from the screen of the computer. "I am dressed in the same kind of clothes that I always wear."
Cam rolled her eyes heavenward. "Specifically, you are wearing obviously mismatched earrings and you've buttoned up your lab coat askew, Dr. Brennan. Is there something wrong?"
Brennan silently unbuttoned her lab coat, removed her earrings and placed them into her pocket. She looked steadily at her concerned colleague, flushing slightly as she recalled the earlier passionate attack that had triggered 'Earringate'. "Thank you, Cam."
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"Oh. My. God." breathed Cam. "Finally!"
"What? But I didn't say anything..." said Brennan.
Cam held up a hand. "And I don't want you to! Just try to stay focused when Booth is around, and maybe consider getting a full length mirror in your office. I'll see you at midday."
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Two hours later, Hodgins dashed into Brennan's office. "Dr. B! I just finished the preliminary analysis of the lock of hair that you brought back from Chicago. Is this a bad time to run it by you?"
"Not at all Dr. Hodgins. I was just ordering a full length mirror," she replied.
Hodgins cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, then thought better of himself and refrained from asking. "As you predicted in your field notes, there was no DNA on the hair sample, but the analysis of the ionic concentrations of commonly occurring elements were fascinating when compared to the strontium analysis from the juvenile bone fragments."
"There was a match?" asked Brennan.
"There was no match," said Hodgins triumphantly.
"That is in no way fascinating, Dr. Hodgins," said Brennan mildly unamused.
"Ah!" said Hodgins, leaning forward to use the mouse on her desk to remote link to his workstation computer. "It is when you map the strontium reference regions for the bone fragments and the ionic match for the water region from the hair sample, onto a map of mainland China."
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Brennan looked at the screen and nodded appreciatively. "Now that is fascinating. I'm not sure if it will lead us anywhere, but it supports that the orphanage that the Chang's visited may well have been a front."
"Oh, it does more than support that assumptions...traces of chemicals found on the hair of the baby were of a combination found only in a patented, high-end shampoo from a European cosmetic company. I traced the product and it is very pricey, even by Western standards. A ten ounce bottle of that shampoo costs more than most Chinese families earn in a month."
Brennan smiled at Hodgins and stood to put her lab coat back on. "You should ask Angela to cross reference product sales against the city where the orphanage is located. I'll call Booth."
"Sounds good, I'll go and visit the love of my life...immediately," said Hodgins with a grin. He nodded down at Brennan's feet as he turned to leave. "Nice socks by the way. Are they in homage to, or in competition with Booth?" he left without waiting for a response.
"It's laundry day..." Brennan said to her empty office.
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Booth answered his cell phone on the second ring.
"Not even four hours...you are in L.O.V.E., Bones!" crooned Booth down the line.
"Why are you spelling that word out? Is Hacker in the room?" asked Brennan.
"Nope. But Sweets is..." he teased.
"Really?" asked Brennan, in amused disbelief. "I thought that he could spell."
"Nah, just kidding, I'm here by myself. Sweets is probably in therapy himself, seeing as he was complaining that Daisy has been just about living at the Lab all week. It makes a nice change to be getting better sex than my own therapist for once," quipped Booth.
"I'm actually calling you about the case, Booth," said Brennan, trying her level best not to select one of several alternative bantering options that were on the tip of her tongue.
"Right. Sorry, I thought it was a social call," he replied, sounding disappointed.
She gave a laugh at his tone. "You should try to be here for Cam's lunchtime briefing if you can. Hodgins has made some progress with the geographic mapping of the strontium regions from the bones. Angela and I going to be running a query against a population reference dataset that the Chinese government has permitted us to obtain an extract from. The translated reference material arrived this morning."
"Okay, I lost you after 'strontosaurus', but I'll be there at twelve. Any chance of lunch afterward?" asked Booth hopefully.
"Perhaps. I'll have to see how my session with Angela goes," she replied. "I'll see you at twelve."
"Okay..." said Booth.
"Okay, what?" she asked. "You usually hang up now."
"Well, I'm usually not so turned on by your voice," he teased.
"Would you prefer it if I sent you text messages or e-mails?" she asked.
"Alright, alright, I'm hanging up!" he grumped. She smiled to herself. Placing her cell phone in her pocket, she made her way to Angela's office. The cell phone power button pushed against one of the mismatched earrings that she had placed in her pocket earlier, the device turned off.
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"Hey, Bren! How was Chicago?" asked Angela, flashing a smile as she focused on entering some final variables into her hand-held controller. "The final collation and enhancements to the orphanage photos will be ready in a couple of minutes."
Brennan looked at her friend appraisingly as she worked. "Angela, you should sit with your feet raised. Your ankles have become markedly more oedematous than when I saw you at the Science Fair last Saturday."
"Yeah, I know...it's been a busy week with all the task-force work, after a busy weekend with my Dad and his 'friends'. But I promise you, I feel just fine. This weekend, I plan to impersonate a beached whale and make Jack wait on me hand and foot," said Angela with a reassuring smile.
"Did he bring you the data from the strontium region map?" asked Brennan.
"He just left, but not before also telling me to sit with my feet up. That's what you get for working with a bunch of scientists, I guess," mused Angela.
"No, Angela. That's 'what you get' for working with people who love you. Now I insist that you come and sit down, we can review the images from your couch,...or would you like me to ask Cam for another opinion?" said Brennan with a 'take no prisoners' expression, that was spoiled ever so slightly by the twitch of a smile at the corner of one lip.
"Okay, I surrender," said the Artist, trying not to waddle too openly as she approached the couch. Brennan pushed the table toward the couch and gave her friend a look that indicated that she should place her feet up on it.
"My advice is simply common sense, Ange. If our circumstances were reversed, you would be just as insistent that I do the same," said Brennan as she took a seat in a low armchair adjacent to the couch.
Angela gave a sigh and rubbed her baby belly. "I've got to tell you, Bren, I'm seriously hoping this orphanage is a fake. The photos of the cots with those unwanted babies is seriously messing with my Mommy instincts. I've been swinging between demanding that Jack go and rescue all those poor kids and curling up in a corner and crying into a pint of Ben and Jerry's."
"Perhaps you should take some personal time. It must be difficult for you to detach yourself from the emotional aspects of this case," suggested Brennan.
"Oh no, Sweetie. That's where my Texan retribution genes come in handy. I want these evil bastards to pay!" said Angela with surprising vehemence.
Brennan observed her hormonally-challenged friend with interest. "You seem to have many conflicting emotions, but I'm glad that you're resolved to work on finding some answers."
"Having a baby in your belly gives you carte blanche on emotional turmoil, Honey. You should get your new roomie to give you a 'hand' with that..." said Angela with a grin. "How did you guys get along anyway? C'mon, spill for a gal who's had to give up 90% of the Karma Sutra in the past six weeks."
The Anthropologist gave a wicked chuckle. "That still leaves you with five or six options..."
"So says the poster girl for celibacy," snorted Angela.
"I got an advance on my new book," said Brennan with a bright smile.
"Really? You're writing again?" said Angela, who then immediately narrowed her eyes. "Hey, just back up a minute there...for at least the last eighteen months, whenever I mention sex, you usually respond with a saint-like lament about how long it is since you got any...then you've bitched that you've had a world-class case of writer's block, which turned into a cosmic-class case when Booth came back with his 'Late Nite Newd Anchor'..."
"You really shouldn't refer to Hannah like that," said Brennan earnestly. "Booth was in love with her."
"Bren. Seriously?" said Angela with her classic 'bitch, please' expression. "The guy was in love with the 'idea' with being in love with her. Getting some regular booty was just a bonus. You know who he really loves. Believe me, when it comes to relationships, I've been there, done them all, sometimes even done it twice; meaning I can tell the difference. Clearly, you still can't admit it, so just cut the bullshit, okay?"
Brennan gave a small sigh. "I know who he loves, Ange. I've known for longer than you think."
"Not for my lack of trying to tell you," said Angela with a snort. "The question is when are you going to unshackle yourself from the celibacy train and do something about it?"
"I'm not wearing any shackles..." replied Brennan evenly, and at the dangerously raised eyebrow of her BFF, she added with a smile, "...literally, or metaphorically."
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Temperance Brennan braced herself for the outpouring of Montenegro-style effusive reaction and was sadly disappointed.
"You finally found love 'and' you had sex? With Seeley 'Sex-on-a-stick' Booth?" asked Angela aghast. "Are you trying to shock me into an early labour here?"
"You're not experiencing pains are you, Angela?" asked Brennan, half getting out of her seat. "I should call Cam..."
Angela laughed at the shocked expression on her friend's face. "No, Sweetie. I'm not in labour...but if you don't get over here right this minute and give me a hug, then tell me how fantastic it was... I swear I'll stage a false labour with screams that will make Daisy Wick's seem like a whimpering prairie dog."
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By the time the midday regroup of the squints and techs occurred, Cam had a satisfied smile on her face. At this rate, the team might be able to leave by six this evening, with all their findings handed back to the task-force for prioritisation and action. A number of task-force teams were teleconferencing in from around the country to summarise the progress for the first week of their efforts. The Jeffersonian presentation was only one part of the program, but it was a significant part, so predictably, Hacker had showed up to take some of the credit.
Brennan stood back from the lights, cameras and the background banners that had been placed to appease all of the agency affiliates, ready for the time when sanctioned sections of information would be released to the press. Operation Redemption was being spun as a wider crack down on organised crime, with the primary target of the No Han Han being kept well under wraps. She was waiting for Booth to arrive; he was running late.
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The main briefing began, with the reconstruction of the Chinese orphanage. Angela and Brennan had deduced and proven that the orphanage was indeed a front. The location was within a disused industrial area of the city. Angela had run facial enhancement and recognition software against orphanage staff captured on the Chang's cell phone camera.
Cam outlined the two significant findings came from the photographs. The first was that Brennan identified that the facial structure of the baby that had allegedly died before she could be adopted, demonstrated that she was the child of the 'Director' of the orphanage. This man was a Catholic priest, known as Father Hwe. When Angela ran the image and estimated height, weight and age of Father Hwe against Interpol records made available from the task-force, they found a match with a dead man; a notorious criminal known as 'Lucifer' Ho. He had been wanted for atrocities committed during his early career in a splinter rebel faction; one that had terrorised remote tribes of ethnic minorities, turning their fertile fields into poppy fields and using the heroin to set himself up as drug lord in the late eighties. Ho had apparently ripped off one too many of his criminal rivals before being 'assassinated' in 2005...before getting a second chance at a life of crime and depravity, apparently with the No Han Han.
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"This guy is one evil bastard..." said Hodgins, shaking his head.
Angela couldn't have agreed more. "I guess they called him Lucifer for a good reason...and now he's been posing as a Catholic priest, peddling innocent kids!"
"Yeah, and the rest Ange. I know, it's diabolical," said Hodgins running a fond hand over her round belly. "Okay, Cam wants me to run through the strontium analysis results. It's showtime, baby!" He approached the console and prepared to give the task-force his findings.
Hacker had been monitoring the parade of experts bringing together their evidence, generating debate on theories and directions for further investigation. Quintessentially the kiss-ass, he approached Brennan. "Temperance. Good work in Chicago. You've managed to make the D.C. team look like winners, and me by association, of course," he said smoothly.
Brennan kept her arms folded across her chest. She flicked a dismissive glance at him. "Thank you for your feedback, Deputy Director Hacker. I would appreciate it, as a matter of professional courtesy, if you would address me as Dr. Brennan."
"Of course, Dr. Brennan," he responded smoothly. "While we're on the subject of professional courtesy, I thought that I should let you know that there has been a ruckus at the Chicago field office this morning, and you've been named at the centre of it. You should see this," said Hacker, handing her a copy of the National Inquirer.
Brennan raised a brow at the publication. "The National Inquirer? I had no idea that you subscribed..." she said with a wry grin.
"You're incredibly witty, Dr. Brennan, but I suggest that you look at the top of page three. You'll have to admit it looks bad for the FBI," said Hacker condescendingly.
She opened the magazine to find a picture of herself and Mark, Perotta's fiancé, who was captured planting an affectionate kiss on her cheek in the bar of 'deca' in Chicago.
"The Paparrazzi took my photograph. I'm a famous author. Mark is a very popular musician. Why is this a problem?" asked Brennan.
Hacker pointed at the paragraph below the headline 'DJ Sparky the latest conquest of Man-eating author?' The blatant innuendo continued in the article below, accusing her of corrupting the well-respected DJ who was orignally from the Bible belt, a man known for his strong views on fidelity. A copy of the bar tab for six bottles of Cristal Champagne was used to suggest that she had a serious alcohol problem. Questions were raised on the status of his recently announced engagement, essentially accusing her of being a home-wrecker, citing her previously printed views on traditional relationships. An anonymous source had reported seeing the two of them re-enacting 'page 187' from her last book in a private booth on the bar premises.
"That is the most ridiculous piece of journalism that I have ever read. There is not a single shred of fact to support any of those accusations," she said with a laugh. "I will, however, contact my attorney. I imagine that Mark will do the same. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."
"You should know that Agent Booth was extremely upset. He was in the middle of a heated discussion with the SAC from Chicago when I left the Hoover. Perhaps he was the one hoping to be corrupted by you?" said Hacker with a light laugh.
Brennan's mouth flattened into an angry line and she clenched her right fist by her side. "I suggest that you take your razor wit and your speculation and..."
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"Bones! We need to talk," called out Booth as he swiped his access card and took the steps up the platform two at a time.
"Ouch!" said Hacker. "That's my cue to leave..." He sauntered off toward the lights and cameras.
"My office?" suggested Brennan.
"Yeah, good call. Too many cameras," said Booth taking her arm and leading the way.
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They entered her office and closed the door. She held out the copy of the magazine.
"I've seen it," said Booth. "Every member of the FBI working on the Eastern seaboard has seen it, thanks to some idiot who e-mailed the electronic version via the global distribution list; unsanctioned I might add. Perotta intercepted the message and kicked the IT chain of command to get it traced. All the proxy links to the article have been blocked in the system, but people are going to use their personal phones to go read this trash."
"How is Perotta taking this?" asked Brennan. "I've come to expect this kind of attention, being in the public eye; but she is newly engaged to be married, so she must be understandably upset at the publication of these lies. My naming as the 'other woman' is purely circumstantial. I have nothing to lose, but I will seek a legal retraction."
"Perotta, in her own words is 'as crazy as a Betsy bug' over the whole thing," said Booth, putting an arm around her. "But my only concern is for you and me, okay?"
"By rights, this shouldn't affect us, Booth. I can see that you're angry, but you know me well enough to realise that this kind of sensationalist drivel is unlikely to impact upon me to the point where I would feel aggrieved. The situation is annoying, and Hacker is trying to make an issue of it...you know, those knuckledusters you promised me might come in handy," she suggested in a sultry tone.
Booth turned to face her and pulled her into a loose embrace. "I know that this kind of thing doesn't faze you, Bones...and believe me, it's one of the things I love most about you..."
"It is?" she asked, still surprised by the quirks that Booth loved in her.
"Yeah, it is," he said with a warm smile as he pulled her closer.
"Aww, thanks," said Brennan bashfully, clearly charmed by the admission.
"You're welcome," he replied. "Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna kiss you, before you get mad."
"Why am I going to get mad?" she asked.
"Humour me, Bones," he said.
"Fine. Kiss me, Booth," she said with a smile.
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Three minutes later, Caroline Julian walked in on a 'ghost of Christmas past' re-enactment. Except that this time, Dr. Brennan was going for bonus points by grabbing Agent Booth's buttocks while the steamboats sailed by. The entrance of the Prosecutor went unnoticed, as the entranced lovers enjoyed one of their new favourite pastimes.
"Please don't tell me that Max Keenan is in jail and you want special privileges for Easter!" boomed Caroline, her face set to 'supremely unimpressed'."
The couple broke apart and Brennan looked at Booth. "Is this my cue to become angry?" she asked Booth.
Caroline raised a brow and approached Booth. "You mean you didn't tell her yet?" she asked incredulously. "What were you thinking?"
Brennan answered. "Booth told me that he wanted to kiss me before I got mad. I merely agreed to his proposal."
The Prosecutor turned on Brennan. "Just so you know, Cherie...proposals involve professions of love on one knee, and sparkly jewellery. What you agreed to, Dr. Brennan was letting a man cajole you into stealing a few kisses, instead of manning up and coming clean about the truth behind your recent brush with fame."
"I was getting around to it, Caroline!" complained Booth.
"Mmm hmm? Gettin' around to it...Ain't that just the story of your life when it comes to you and Dr. Brennan here," said Caroline caustically.
"Whatever you have to tell me, I suggest that one of you do so immediately, because I have work to do," said Brennan brusquely.
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Booth held up a finger to silence Caroline, who looked about ready to blow a gasket. "When Perotta called me, she told me what she'd said to Hannah...which was basically to stay the Hell away from her task-force, particularly the two of us."
"Perotta indicated that she would do as much, when she told us that Hannah was in Chicago. As the SAC, her warning to Hannah was completely congruent with her intent. I fail to see why you would believe that I might have any issue with that..." said Brennan.
Caroline gave an impatient harrumph and decided to interrupt. "Stop dancing around the truth, Agent Booth! Dr. Brennan won't break! The Chicago field office retraced the steps of Ms. Burley before she boarded a plane for Afghanistan last night. Those steps included sending her freelance photographer friend to take a photo of you and DJ Sparky...what kind of imbecile would come up with a name like that, let alone settle for it!...The National Inquirer wouldn't reveal their source...surprise, surprise,...but the author of the article is a staff writer who was a former room-mate of one Hannah Burley."
"So Hannah takes a cheap slug at me...I am still finding it difficult to become angry," said Brennan. "You are usually significantly more annoying than this, Ms. Julian...perhaps you're losing your touch because you have become so fond of me."
"Bones, it's a cheap 'shot'...and it was aimed at me too. Have you even spoken to your publisher yet?" asked Booth.
"No," she rummaged in the pocket of her lab coat removing her cell phone and dropping a chunky earring to the floor in the process. Booth bent down to pick it up. "My phone was switched off. I missed the call."
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"Well fancy that! I get to tell you all about what the Federal Government and your publishers have cooked up to divert attention from Operation Redemption," drawled Caroline. "And I guarantee you'll be pissed, Dr. Brennan. Next week, you and Agent Booth head down to N'Orleans as planned, with your task force work staying unofficial. Officially, you'll be on a publicity tour, seeing as your new book is set in the Deep South. The publicity will include spoilers about Kathy and Andy getting hitched, with you and your gorgeous partner being joined at the hip to fuel the fires of speculation."
Brennan finally looked angry. "My publisher wants to release the sub-plot of my new book? It is actually about a bone cult that uses..."
"Not sparky enough, Cherie!" interjected Caroline. "Surely, you can spend three days undercover playing lovey-dovey and going all goo-goo eyed at Seeley Booth. Lord knows you've been practicing for years!"
"Aww! Kathy and Andy get married?" said Booth.
"Yes. They are fictional characters...and it's a sub-plot." Brennan was fast becoming exasperated. "Why should I do this? Booth, I'm not ready to do this..." she implored.
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"Sure we can, Bones," said Booth reassuringly, glaring at Caroline. "We've gone undercover before. It will draw attention away from the task-force activity, set things right for Peyton and Mark, deal with the negative publicity for your new book that this is attracting, and flip off the National Inquirer at the same time."
"That's right, Cherie...it's what's known as a 'win-win' situation," added Caroline backing off on the bluster a little. "Uncle Sam will pick up the tab for the Presidential Suite at some place fancy, seeing as the FBI per diem gets you little more than a seedy motel room in those parts."
"Yeah, we have to keep up appearances," said Booth buoyantly, putting his arm around her shoulder. "C'mon Bones, you 'love' undercover work. It'll be a blast!"
"I have become quite the accomplished actor," said Brennan immodestly with a small smile. "Don't you think that the Presidential Suite would be overkill?" she asked Caroline.
The Prosecutor raised an eyebrow. "You get to be the lead actor, Dr. Brennan, not the Executive Producer...unless you'd prefer me to book the Bridal Suite? I can file for a marriage license if you want to make this worthy of an Emmy..."
Booth and Brennan just looked at each other...things were moving fast enough at the moment as it was, without adding even more fictional pressure.
Caroline pointed a finger at Brennan and then waved it between the two of them. "Call your publisher and their press agent. Call your friends and families to give them the heads up...especially Max Keenan! The last thing we need is needless violence. Hopefully, you'll create enough of a diversion so that we can get along with what we're all really here to do, which is to catch those baby-killin', drug-peddlin' monsters."
Let me know what you thought of this...pretty please?