Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the Numb3rs characters. Original characters belong to me, whether they want to or not. Let's continue
Chapter 12
Nikki Bentancourt frowned as her empty stomach rumbled . There'd been no opportunity for a meal since pulling out of the MDC parking lot behind her subject earlier that evening. "This better be worth it, Carlos. I'm passing on scented candles, red wine and a sexy evening in a tub of warm, soapy water with a hot man to follow you around, not to mention risking my whole career as an FBI agent, so you better make it worth my while" Nikki groused.
Carlos Herrera, the MDC correctional officer she was following, of course, completely ignored this unheard chastisement. Driving thru the city, utterly oblivious to his watcher, Herrera flitted from spot to spot, "like some kind of butt ugly social butterfly" Nikki fussed. "You supposedly worked nine hours in one of the toughest jails in the country. You couldn't just go home like the rest of America after knocking off for the day?" Where was he finding the energy to go from the Metropolitan Detention Center to a bar, later to see his girlfriend, and still be getting into his car bound for another destination? He sure wasn't headed to his apartment. She knew the man's address, and it was in the other direction. Bentancourt checked her watch. Almost eleven-thirty. "I must out of my mind. Or maybe I'm just wrong. Maybe it's not him. Maybe I picked the wrong one after all and I just don't want to admit I botched it." She thought about it for a minute or two. "No, no I'm not wrong. It's him. I just need to be patient. This might take more than one night, that's all. Gotta be patient. Sooner or later, ole Carlos is gonna give something away, and then I got him. I'm not wrong, he's the one."
Nikki Bentancourt was a woman on a mission. When Colby Granger received his unexpected, unpaid time off last week, he'd stopped at his desk long enough to grab his jacket and get out, leaving Don to do the explaining. He hadn't given any of his teammates the chance to show their support. Colby's demeanor had been a combination of anger and embarrassment, like he wasn't sure how his fellow agents would take the news. Getting on the elevator, Granger turned around, leaning on the back wall arms and legs crossed, and by sheer chance made eye contact with Nikki. The wry, slightly bitter twist to his lips said what he did not have to say aloud. "Guess you're not the only one around here who thinks I could be a murderer. Feel better?" The doors closed, Colby still staring at her.
"Actually, no" Nikki answered him silently. "I feel like I just tossed a sack full of puppies into the L.A. River". Despite her earlier conversation with David Sinclair, Nikki knew Granger did not kill Jack Lucern. She didn't believe he'd hired it done either. She barely knew Kerri Walton, but couldn't see Colby covering for his girlfriend, so that let the lady D.A. out as the killer also.
Unfortunately, with exquisitely crappy timing, Granger chose to grab a cup of midday coffee at exactly the same time Nikki's dish ran away with her spoon, verbally speaking. Now Colby thought she believed him capable of murder, team Eppes was fragmented again, and, Bentancourt got the impression, she'd dropped a couple of notches in Sinclair's estimation. No doubt, she'd screwed up. Time to pull her head out of her vagina and do what she could to make it right.
She started where Colby's troubles did, at the MDC. It entailed a bit of creativity. One evening, she even had to fake leaving for the night and hide out in the ladies room until Don, David and Liz were gone home before sneaking back into the bullpen. Acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she fired up her computer and proceeded to pull up personnel records for the MDC. It took several nights of digging, inventing a migraine to get out of an after work drink and a lot of eye strain, but she finally hit pay dirt.
Nikki had to give it to Carlos Herrera. He'd gone to some lengths to hide his graft. He was clever enough not to openly flaunt the fruits of his corruption. He took pains to open an account not in his own name, but in his five year old nephew's name. He might have pulled it off if Bentancourt, after several days of fruitless, frustrating dead ends, hadn't remember the trick from her days in LAPD, helping narcotics detectives follow the money on drug cases. She'd started looking at not only the MDC officers, but checking for accounts under their family member's names, and, bingo. What do you know but little Antonio Herrera, son of one of Officer Carlos Herrera's sisters, suddenly sported a five figure bank account. Right around the same time Jackson Lucern checked out. How 'bout that? Start of a college fund for the kid courtesy of his proud uncle? Nikki didn't think so. She had a fairly decent idea of where that money came from. It looked like she'd found the hole Lucern's killer slipped thru at the detention center. She didn't have the how yet, but she was pretty close to the who. She hoped. She'd keep tracking Officer Herrera until he slipped up and gave her the smoking gun. What to do when she got it was a bridge Nikki knew she would have to cross eventually.
Herrera was coming back to his car. Took him long enough. Ducking down to avoid being seen after the man emerged from the gas station's interior with a pack of smokes, scratching what looked like a lottery ticket (she'd followed this fool all over hell's half acre for a scratch off!?) It looked like he was finally headed for home. She kept with him just to make sure, then turned to go to her own digs. Tomorrow was another day. Thinking of her blown evening and Ian Edgerton again, Nikki staggered into the elevator, punching the button for her floor. "Colby, wherever you are, you sure better appreciate this" she mumbled tiredly, slipping her key into the lock.
"Colby, we have to get the boy out of there! We have to get him away from that monster!" Steve Walton stated emphatically. "When I think about him… all this time…for ten years!" Steve shook his head again, still reeling from the night's revelations.
"I know, Steve. Trust me, I know. And we are, we are going to get that kid out." Colby answered Kerri's dad in a carefully measured tone, trying to calm things down. "But we have to think about this, okay? We're only going to get one chance, so we gotta be smart about it. You, me, whoever, if we go charging in with a SWAT team and a battering ram and a bull horn…Come on man, we've both seen how fast those two can Houdini. We roll up on 'em with a truckload of sound and fury they can be into those sewers and go ghost on us before we can even get the door down. Nobody will ever see that kid again. Who knows what kind of warped creation Cummings'll turn him into? There's ten years of damage to undo as it is. We have to think about this! It gonna take some planning, alright?" He thought back to earlier in the evening and the decisions he'd come to while looking upon the resting place of Colin and Aimee.
Walton mirrored Granger's initial impulse as he'd realized who the frightened figure huddled in the former kitchen of the Russell home had to be. The Hieronymus Bosch scene in the sewer and the circumstances of Jeremiah Russell's survival defied normal reactions. Damping down the wave of pity he had no time for, Colby forced himself to consider the situation from as many angles as possible. He wished acutely for the presence of the Eppes brothers. Don's strategic thinking and Charlie's math genius would sure come in handy right about now. But they weren't here. It was just him, so he would have to do. Getting Jeremiah away from Cummings was the priority, but Colby was pretty sure it wouldn't be as easy as simply racing back upstairs, grabbing the kid and muscling him out of the house and into the Durango. Isolated from nearly all other human contact since the age of three, Avery Cummings was more than the only 'family' Jeremiah Russell knew, he was practically the boy's whole world. No way would the teen go quietly. He'd need to be subdued, and he'd be struggling, panicked out of his mind the entire way. It was a battle Granger declined to fight. Jeremiah had suffered enough physical and mental blows. He needed to find another way. He briefly entertained the notion of retracing his steps back to the house and leaving the way he'd entered, thru the jimmied side door at the end of the hallway, but shot that option down. "Big", Avery Cummings, was probably back by now. Getting into it with a card carrying whack job on the whack job's home turf, in the dark, with a wild card like Jeremiah in the mix, Uh uh. Not tonight. "Gotta get back to the Walton place. Make a plan." With plenty of experience at crawling thru dark, unpleasant spaces, courtesy of the caves of mountainous Afghanistan, Colby gradually found his way up out of Seattle's sewer system and back to the surface. Getting back to his vehicle, he gunned the engine. He and Steve Walton had a lot to discuss. Granger even had an idea about who else he might like to include in their impromptu rescue mission.
The phone rang in the wee hours, waking him early. He rolled over in bed, groping for the receiver in the darkened bedroom. "Thomas" Rudy croaked, wondering who could be calling him at, what time was it? Six A.M.
"Det. Thomas, my name is Colby Granger. We met the other night at the hospital."
"I remember" Thomas replied. "What do you want?"
"I want you to get dressed and meet me and Steve Walton at Coffee Mama in a half an hour" Colby told him, naming a popular Seattle breakfast spot.
"And why would I want to do that?" the detective replied. He had an "interview" scheduled later that day with IA. With the lid peeled back, the worms of Marty Willis's murky career were slowly escaping their slimy can. Internal Affairs wanted to know how much Rudy knew, and how long he'd known it. Thomas was in no mood to deal with the FBI, or Walton either.
"There's been a development in the Russell case. Something's going to happen. Something you're going to want to be a part of"
"I am, huh?" Thomas waxed sarcastic.
"Yeah" Colby answered dryly. "You am. Thirty minutes." The line went dead.
"He's not coming" Steve told Colby, staring thru the moisture soaked glass. The corner booth they inhabited looked out onto the misty streets of the Seattle morning. The sun tried but failed to penetrate the clouds and a cold drizzle prevailed. They'd been waiting for Rudy Thomas to show for forty-five minutes, nursing cups of coffee and picking over the remains of the basket of too sweet cinnamon rolls offered along side.
"He'll be here, Steve. He's still inside an hour. Probably thought about it for maybe, oh, ten, fifteen minutes before stepping into a pair of pants, but he'll be here. Don't sweat it. I said thirty minutes to get him moving in the right direction, that's all. Relax." Colby reassured the other man.
Granger wasn't worried, confident he'd gauged Thomas correctly. As he'd told Kerri, Thomas and Willis didn't have the normal 'got your back no matter what' partnership that he and David Sinclair did. He and David were much closer to brothers than partners. Not so with Thomas and Willis. At the hospital, after getting his head injury tended to, Colby had managed to catch the briefest glimpse of Rudy Thomas's face as he helped break up the skirmish between Willis and Steve Walton. He'd seen it, fleeting, but unmistakable. Contempt. Thomas more than disliked his partner. For reasons Granger would not want to explore too deeply, he got the feeling Thomas would welcome the chance to rid himself of Det. Martin Willis for good, and to distance himself from his corrupt partner. Well, here it is dude. And it ain't gonna get no better than this.
Entering the café on the heels of the thought, Rudy Thomas walk into Coffee Mama, looking over the moderately populated booths and tables until he saw Colby and Steve. He stood blocking the doorway for a moment longer, then, with the air of someone caught between two unpalatable choices, started over.
"See" Colby said to Steve, indicating Thomas's approach with an incline of his head. "Told ya. Make some room" he suggested. "Smiley here can sit next to you"
"You said this had to do with the Russell case" Thomas said sourly, getting right to business. "I've been over that material front to back, sideways and inside out. There's nothing you can tell me I don't already know."
"So, you're here… why?" Colby asked, calling the pitifully transparent bluff.
"Have a cup of coffee, Rudy" Steve prompted. "You look as if you could use one". Right on cue, a waitress appeared.
"Nikki? Nikki? Nikki!" Liz Warner raised her voice slightly, finally getting her teammate's attention after several moments of trying. What was wrong with Bentancourt this morning? The curly haired Nikki had come shuffling in with only moments to spare before she would have been late for work. Sandy eyed and listless, Nikki displayed the energetic pace of a tortoise. And if she yawned one more time she'd get Liz going too.
"What is that, your fifth or sixth cup of coffee? Woman, you are really out of it today! What kind of night did you have anyway? 'Cause you look like you didn't sleep a wink" Liz teased.
"I didn't have nearly as much fun as you probably think I did" Nikki shot back blearily. "It was just a long, sleepless, non-productive night." She fought to stay awake, remembering the days not so long ago when she could blow off a sleepless night with no problem.
Liz frowned at the seeming non-sequitur. "Non-productive? What exactly were you trying to produce besides a good time? I thought you were going to look up Ian and see what else the night had in store."
Oops. Nikki kicked herself for the slip. Bad enough to mess around with her own career prospects. She had no desire, zero, to take any of her teammates down with her if it came to that. So, they didn't get the skinny on her little snipe hunt. She covered as best she could.
"That's what I meant. Called Ian. No joy. Wherever he is, he didn't answer. My night was a lot different than I'd hoped for. And then I couldn't get to sleep." She'd spent what was left of the night staring at the ceiling after arriving home, too many details on her mind to get much rest. "I'm so beat my tired is tired."
"Yeah, so I noticed" Don Eppes chimed, coming back to the bull-pen. "You drag any lower, the cleaning crew can skip this floor tonight. Things are kind of quiet around here right now. Therefore, by the powers vested in me by the Los Angeles field office of the FBI, I hereby declare thee unfit for duty. Go home, Agent Bentancourt. Get out and don't come back until you can keep your eyes open and your head off your desk. Go. Now. Before I change my mind. Beat it. Vamoose. Hasta la vista." Don made a shooing motion with his hand, already focused on the report in his hand.
"But boss, I…" Nikki felt obligated to make at least a token protest.
"You're no good like you are now, Nikki. In your condition, you're more liable to do harm than good. I mean it. Hit the door and get some rest. Six to eight hours minimum. Clear? Now go, before some enterprising felon out there starts getting ideas and things start to pop and I can't let you leave. Move it. Liz, find David and meet me in briefing." The SSA walked away, studying the file from his morning meeting with the ADIC.
Nikki meant to resist further. She truly did. But when she opened her mouth, she was too tired to remember what to say. Grabbing her purse, she splashed cold water on her face in the ladies room, made it to her car, and accomplished driving home with a great deal of concentration. Falling into bed, her last action was to set her alarm four hour's hence. She'd get that much sleep, and, then pick up the trail on Officer Carols Herrera.
Unknown by almost everyone, 12973 Marshlight Lane began its structural life as a speakeasy in the early 1920's. Prohibition era gangsters used Seattle's relative proximity to the Canadian border to keep supplied with copious amounts of various banned beverages. The booze made the long journey down from the U.S.'s northern neighbor, past border restrictions, and into the city. From there it traveled thru Seattle's very conveniently constructed sewer and drainage system into the tunnel fashioned by the profit minded criminals right into the home's basement, up the stairs and down the throats of thirsty customers. After hooch became legal again thanks to the 21st Amendment, the crooks moved on to other pursuits and the home changed hands several times. Lying unforgotten for several decades, the secret passage underneath the house waited to be rediscovered. When his mother's series of incapacitating strokes rendered her no longer able to control his every movement, Avery Cummings, in his mid- teens at the time, accidently stumbled on the hidden entrance during one of his nocturnal forays. He immediately recognized its potential, for so many things. He'd smiled cruelly at the time. The city of Seattle, his Green Lake neighbors in particular, owed a great debt. Here, before his eyes, was the means to aid him in extracting payment. Mother had been right. The perversions of the weak and the base could indeed be turned against them.
Nikki Bentancourt followed as Officer Carlos Herrera drove from the detention center to his favorite fast food joint for lunch. She took a bite from her own sandwich. She wasn't going to miss another meal trying to keep up with this mutt. Herrera probably only had one hour for the midday meal. Bet he takes more than that all the time, Nikki thought. Sure enough, after the burger joint, Herrera headed not back to work but over to harass his woman for a little afternoon delight. Still crudely zipping up afterwards, he emerged on to the street and walked to his parked auto. As the man drove away from the direction of the MDC, Nikki wondered where they were headed now. At least she felt much better able to keep up with him. The four hours sleep she'd gotten from her unexpected day off recharged her batteries nicely. Thank you Don Eppes.
She couldn't begin to understand Herrera's crooked path as he meandered thru L.A. Where in the world was he going? Several more moments of driving found the corrections officer and his FBI agent audience parked outside a Yourmail Express store. Nikki watched as he went in, using an electronic card key to open one of the rented boxes. Using the small but powerful binoculars she carried to help with the surveillance, she saw him take money from the box, placing some bills into his wallet. He then replaced the rest of the cash, closed the box, came out of the store and got back into his car, this time returning to work. Hmm, Nikki thought. It looked like Officer Herrera hadn't been as through at covering his tracks as he'd supposed. He'd have to pay for that. She'd make sure of it.
Colby, Steve Walton and Rudy Thomas sat around the Walton dining room table reviewing their plan for the assault on the Russell home. Thomas still wore a slightly shell-shocked expression from the morning's conversation at Coffee Mama. It all sounded so far out totally insane. Secret tunnels, hidden passageways, a psychotic killer who kept his victims stashed for private viewing. What did he consider Jeremiah? Prisoner, protégé? Most disturbing of all, family? It boggled the mind to even think about. Rudy didn't doubt he'd been given the truth. Nobody could make this stuff up. He agreed vehemently with Granger and Walton. They had to rescue the boy. Ten years of madness was enough. The Seattle homicide detective put aside consideration of how his partner, Marty Willis might have contributed to Jeremiah's situation by sabotaging the long ago investigation. That was for later. He made himself pay attention to Colby Granger as the FBI agent outlined again the approach they'd be making to their target.
"…This is the spot I waited in yesterday" Colby was saying. "It's at the side of the house, in a thick copse of trees. It's close to the door, and with any luck, neither Cummings or Jeremiah has realized somebody else has been playing in their sandbox and the door's still good for entry. The key is waiting until the right time. Cummings is in and out of there on a nightly basis. I don't even want to think about where he goes or what he does when he leaves, but, hopefully, he won't take the kid with him again tonight. From the sound of him, Jeremiah sounds pretty rattled just at the idea of leaving the place. I think maybe he sees it as some sort a security blanket. Maybe part of him still thinks of it as the place he lived with his mom and dad. I don't know, but I think it works in our favor."We wait until they're separated, then snatch Jeremiah."
"You do know it's not going to be that easy, right?" Thomas said acidly.
"Nothing about this is easy." Colby refused to be drawn. "It's time to get off the pot, detective. Are you committed or not? 'Cause if you're comin' you'd better be committed. Steve's going to really need your help with Jeremiah."
"He's gonna need my…I know I'm just a dumb local cop, so forgive me for asking the obvious, but what exactly are you going to be doing while we're handling the kid?" Thomas questioned.
"Oh, that's the best part of this 'mission impossible' episode" Granger supplied, an ironic set to his mouth Nikki would have recognized. "Cummings isn't going to let us just bop in and take Jeremiah away from him. He'll be coming. Somebody's got to get in his way. That's my job."
"Let me get this straight" Rudy sputtered, "You're planning to take down this killer clown all by yourself, no backup, no weapon, no nothing. You just walk in, yell "FBI!" and expect this nutlog to fall to the ground and surrender!?" Thomas was incredulous.
"Did I say that?" Colby's patience was ebbing. "I'm only telling you we better be ready for him. Besides" Granger gave Thomas a chill half grin, "he and I have yet to be properly introduced. I think I'm gonna take care of that tonight. And who said anything about no weapon" he showed Rudy the freshly cleaned and ready to use gun in the holster clipped to his waist. He'd borrowed Steve's old backup weapon. "I've been there twice unarmed. Third time's the charm. There are a couple of brain cells behind this pretty face."
"You're alright with this!?" Rudy Thomas prodded Steve Walton, who'd remained silent while Colby laid out their plan before the Seattle homicide investigator.
"No, Rudy, I'm not alright with it. But the fact is, Colby's right, we don't have a lot of options to kick around here, and this is the one that has the best chance of working! Now, can we stop all the blather and get moving? My wife and daughter are going to be back any second now. I'd very much like to be gone when they return, so let's move!" Steve ordered grumpily. He was worried about Colby too, but could both see no alternative, nor persuade the younger man do change his mind.
After silence filled the air for a moment longer, Colby stood, stretched and gave his knuckles a crack. "Everything clear? Good. Ok, then let's rodeo!"