A/N: Abn extra offering for all the loyal fans who shiver in icy, snowy darkness: some Hot Eppes

Perception Deception

A tale composed by the Rabid Raccoons

Disclaimer: Please refer to Chapter One

Chapter 26: It's Your Move

Derek Mace reclined his seatback and stretched his long legs out in front of him; something he never could have done if he had been stuck on a commercial flight. He crossed his feet at the ankles and sighed, smiling over the rim of his highball at Jackie Carotta. "This is the only way to fly," he proclaimed. "Working for Tuttle has its share of perks, but LearJet travel is right up there at the top."

Carotta merely grunted, and continued looking out the window. Lew Spisak, the third member of the group which had failed during its Idaho mission, spoke from his seat next to Mace. "No argument from me. That Nardek…he's a funny little geek, but he sure as hell knows what he's doing, don't he?"

Mace drained his highball and lowered the glass, nodding. "All that techno mumbo jumbo gives me a headache – but he sure saved our asses this time. Tracing the GPS on that computer from the serial number on the manual we found was genius."

Carotta finally joined the conversation. "No screw-ups this time. Tuttle's man in Chicago is meetin' us at the airport. Tuttle wants us to go at these guys at least two-on-one. They fought their way out back in the professor's office, and they gave us the slip in Idaho. Tuttle ain't gonna take too kindly to another miss. We destroy the computer, take care of the Eppes brothers, and get rid of the bodies."

Spisak squirmed. "Can't say I'm really looking forward to that part," he admitted. "Why can't we just dump them somewhere?"

Carotta turned a steely eye toward him. "Tuttle don't want any evidence. You can't handle the job, you let me know now."

Spisak reddened slightly and dropped his gaze to his lap. "I can do it," he insisted. He glanced sideways at Mace. "You ever cut anybody up before, Derek?"

Mace signaled the flight attendant for another highball. "Hell, Lew," he answered. "Why d'ya think I'm drinkin'?"

Colby felt his phone vibrate just as he was joining the boarding line. He fed his boarding pass into the turnstile with one hand and flipped open the phone with the other. "Granger," he answered brusquely. "Better make it fast; I'm just getting on the plane." He veered toward the side of the boarding ramp and waited for a response.

"I'm at the Eppes house," Phillip Wright answered. "Amita has decided to give me Charlie's cell phone number."

Colby smiled. "That's great…cuz honestly, I had no idea how I was going to find two needles in a Chicago haystack."

Wright chuckled. "I don't doubt for a moment that you would have thought of something, Agent Granger. Listen, I'm taking this straight to Renton. We should have something by the time you pick up the rental car. Call my cell, and I'll have Pat download the location to the car's GPS."

"Got it," answered Colby. "Listen; tell Amita she's doing the right thing."

Wright sighed. "I'm trying to. I'm having some difficulty; I can't seem to get her to stop crying. She's sitting behind a computer, but I have no idea how she can see anything. I'm quite uncomfortable with a female's tears; ask my wife."

Colby grinned. "I don't doubt for a moment that you'll think of something, Assistant Director."

Charlie felt a tiny leap of hope in the vicinity of his chest. Intellectually, he understood that the heart was a muscle designed for the pumping of blood; emotions actually originated in the prefrontal cortex; more specifically, the amygdala. Nevertheless, like most people, Charlie felt things at a lower location. Depression made his heart "sink"; joy caused his heart to "leap". It was completely unscientific, and, in fact, had been a source of embarrassment and confusion for years – maybe there was a mathematical explanation that he could turn into his next book -- but there you have it.

When he saw Mark Vincent's name, his heart prepared for take-off.

He forced himself to slow his breathing. Mark Vincent was not a very uncommon name; this was not necessarily a tie to Audrey Montague. Once he had uncovered the deeply buried Vincent page in the Illusion Corporation's files, he backtracked to the Dominican Republic registry, where, after another 15 minutes of dedicated digging, he located Vincent's address of record: a post office box in Los Angeles. Next, he again hit the offshore bank that held Illusion's accounts. Successfully circumventing the security firewall so easily that it occurred to him, not for the first time, that he would probably make a decent criminal, Charlie was quickly able to determine that Vincent was indeed listed as one of the owners of the Illusion accounts. His heart rate increased again when he noticed that there was a direct link to Vincent's other accounts; it looked as if the money Illusion was siphoning from its own businesses was being fed directly into one of several accounts owned solely by Mark Vincent. Charlie recognized several of the deposits as matches, both in timeframe and dollar amount, to the small frauds that had first caught Don's eye. Vincent was worth several million dollars.

Charlie scribbled down Mark Vincent's social security number before he backed quietly out of the bank's system. If they could prove that this Mark Vincent was indeed Audrey's brother, they had their link to the Montagues. It would be easy enough for Robin, in her official capacity, to obtain that. Charlie chewed on his bottom lip, undecided. Don would kill him for getting her involved…but wasn't she involved already? She had supplied Vincent's name in the first place. Still, maybe he should wait until Don came back this afternoon, and let his brother make the decision.

He powered down the computer and stood, tucking a sweaty strand of curly hair behind his ear. That feeling he always got, when the solution to a problem was in sight, was ricocheting around his entire torso by now. Once they proved Audrey Montague was making a comatose brother, over which she held P of A, richer than God, they would have enough to show someone like Bob Tompkins. The Montagues and Tuttle could be put on ice while an official investigation was conducted.

Mixed with Charlie's sense of excitement was a nearly overwhelming feeling of relief. Nothing he had found so far indicated that anyone else in the FBI was involved. Don could safely return to his work. They could both return to their lovers, their father, their lives.

Charlie became so engrossed in imagining his reunion with Amita, that he didn't hear anything, when two vehicles rolled to a stop just outside the warehouse door.

Audrey Montague sat behind her oak desk in her office in the justice building, the hand clutching the cell phone shaking almost imperceptibly.

The fact that it had rung at all had nearly been her undoing. It was her secure cell; only a few people had this number – and none of them ever called with good news. Today had been no exception. Tuttle had just informed her that Nardek had been picking up untraceable pings into Mark Vincent's Illusion Corporation page. Someone had made the ultimate connection, and was mining for gold. Everett warned her – almost gleefully -- that if it was Charlie Eppes, it would only be a matter of time before the whole thing blew up in their faces.

She had begged him to pull the plug. Only she held Mark's Power of Attorney and could access the millions in his accounts. It was time for the two of them to disappear, she insisted. Jim would be a sacrificial offering when the authorities came calling – and she actually felt a little bad about that. After all, they had been married almost 15 years. He had been a comfort when her parents were killed, and he had stood by her after Mark's injury. In fact, he had introduced her to Tuttle, and convinced her to involve herself (and Mark) in Illusion Corporation. He might be boring as hell in bed, and had proven to be sterile in more ways than one, but he had still done well by her.

Still, if she had to choose who she was going to share Mark's wealth and her best years with, J. Everett Tuttle won by a landslide.

He had called her an "irrational bitch", though, and urged her to calm down. "My team is already in place in Chicago," he informed her. "They're on their way to the Eppes brothers now. Thanks to your husband's involvement in our little scheme, Don Eppes has been afraid to tell anybody else what he's got. He's on the run from the FBI as much as he is from me. When he and his brother disappear, our problems disappear. There are millions more to be made."

Eventually he had ended the call, telling her he had a call coming in from Mace, and warning her again to keep her head level. Sitting alone behind her massive desk, though, Audrey shivered. Unwelcome thoughts began to enter her mind.

Perhaps she shouldn't share the wealth with either of them.

She could disappear herself, access the rest of Mark's money and move it to another, separate account…in fact, she could even use part of it to set up a trust to take care of her brother for a few more years; surely, he wouldn't live much longer than that, anyway. If she didn't move on the funds still remaining in the U.S. when he was still alive, the whole point of Illusion Corporation would be moot.

Tuttle was just too greedy. He was greedy in bed. He was a greedy eater, ordering only the best of everything, and never sharing. He was arrogant, and pushing not only his own luck, but hers, as well.

Yes…it might be time to cut everybody lose.

Colby, following the directions being fed to him audibly by the lady who lived in the GPS, nearly turned into the industrial park before he saw the dark sedans parked in the shadow of one of the warehouses. He made an abrupt left turn instead, down the street where Charlie liked to take his secret walks. "You have gone off-course!" his invisible wife shouted as he turned into one of the other vacant warehouse lots. "You are off-course! Please turn left, now!"

Colby jabbed the "off" button on the GPS. "Shut the hell up," he muttered. He drove slowly through the parking lot, making a u-turn at the end, and easing the rented vehicle into position near the corner of the building. He let the car idle for a moment as he regarded the vehicles outside the warehouse that contained, at the very least, the prepaid cell Charlie had been using. Hopefully, it contained Charlie and Don, as well. The first one, a dark-green sedan, was a late-model 300M; definitely not a Crown Vic, and the second, a 2003 black Cadillac sedan. Of course, it was entirely possible, even probable, that Don had gotten his hands on a different car, by now. Colby just didn't think he would have chosen one of those cars. They looked like something a fed – or a crook – would drive.

It was undeniable; his gut told him something was hinky. One thing Colby had learned, after all these years, was to trust his gut.

Slowly he turned the key in the ignition to shut off the engine. Then he slumped in the seat a little, and settled down to wait.

End, Chapter 26