Several cars filled the Eppes' driveway and lined the street, some of them squad cars. Police officers and FBI agents were walking in and out of the house, eyes scanning the premises. A few officers had cameras and were taking pictures, the flash evident even in the bright sunlight. Neighbors around the house were watching from the street, talking to each other and speculating as to why so many people were at the Eppes house.
Agent Terry Lake pulled her car into a vacant spot and stepped out, scanning her surroundings. David Sinclair exited from the passenger side and walked around, joining her as they headed past the crowd and up the path to the house.
They found Alan in the living room, talking to another agent. As soon as he saw Terry and David, he excused himself and walked over to them.
"Thank God you guys are here," he said, his eyes filled with fear and worry. "No one's been able to tell me anything! Please, you have to help me."
"We will, Mr. Eppes, don't worry," Terry assured him as David moved away to talk to another agent. "Can you tell me again what happened?"
Alan ran a hand through his hair, eyes focused inward. "I was just coming back from a friend's house. Art Stanley. I saw a black sedan, a 2003 Chevy parked in front of the house. Don and Charlie were inside with three other men. I tried to get to them, but the car just took off."
Terry felt her stomach flutter with fear for her partner, but she forced herself to remain calm. "What else can you tell me? Can you describe these men?"
Alan shook his head. "I didn't get a great look at them. One was African American, one had brown hair, the other had blond. They weren't thin, probably bulky, about six feet tall. I was looking mostly at Don. The look on his face . . ."
Terry saw the fear rise, and she sought to console the distraught father. "We're going to find them, Mr. Eppes. They're going to be all right."
Alan nodded, though he didn't look as though he believed her. "I couldn't see Charlie too well. He was next to Don, but something was wrong. Don was looking right at me, but Charlie . . . he looked like he was unconscious or something."
Terry nodded, taking the information in. "Has Charlie been working on anything important lately?" She wasn't too sure if the focus of the attack was on the young professor, but she knew that Charlie often consulted for other sensitive matters.
Alan snorted. "Yeah, he's been working nonstop on some big project. He didn't say much about it, but I think he's been telling his brother about it. His work is all still here. It's on the table. Here, see?"
Alan led Terry to the piles of notes and books still on the coffee table. Terry crouched down and glanced through some of the notes, trying to make some sense of it. Her confusion must have shown, because Alan added, "Larry Fleindhart, Charlie's friend, has been working on it, too. He might be able to help."
"I'll give him a call," Terry promised, standing.
Alan looked at her closely. "Do you think it has something to do with my boys being kidnapped?"
Terry's eyes locked with Alan's, wondering just how much to say. "I'm not sure," she finally admitted honestly. "But it's a possibility."
"But Charlie's just a math teacher!" Alan protested. "What could anybody want with him?"
Terry, unfortunately, couldn't give him an answer.
Don paced restlessly from one end of the room to the other. The men had driven him and Charlie out of Los Angeles, continuing east for a couple hours before finally stopping in a very small town near the Nevada border. They had pulled into the driveway of a very old and obviously abandoned house, and Don had been forced at gunpoint out of the car and inside. Charlie, still under the effects of whatever the gray-eyed man had done to him, had been carried.
The room they had been locked in was in the basement of the house. It was bare, save for a single bed with one thin sheet, and a bare bulb overhead. The door had been padlocked from the outside, trapping the brothers in the small room. Charlie lay still on the bed as Don paced back and forth, his mind racing.
Who were these men? What did they want with him and Charlie? Once they got what they wanted, would they let them go?
A small moan from the bed caused Don to stop his movements. He went to his brother's side, sitting on the bed beside him and brushing his brother's hair back from his forehead.
"Charlie?" Don called softly. "Hey, buddy, can you hear me?"
Charlie opened his eyes, blinking several times to clear his vision. "Don?" he asked. "What's going on? Where are we?"
"Somewhere near Nevada," Don answered. "How do you feel?"
Charlie, with Don's help, sat up. He rubbed his arm and looked around the room. "A little woozy. What happened?"
"Some guys decided to take us for a ride," Don answered. "They haven't told me what they want yet. Did they say anything when you answered the door?"
Charlie frowned, trying to remember. "They asked for me by name."
"That's it?" Don asked.
Charlie nodded. "They asked for me. I told them who I was, and one of them jabbed my arm with something. Made me dizzy. I tried not to, but I passed out."
"Must have been some kind of tranquilizer," Don stated, mostly to himself.
"So what do we do now?" Charlie asked, looking at Don expectantly.
Don returned Charlie's gaze. He realized that Charlie, though scared and confused, trusted him to help him. Don felt a sudden pressure on his shoulders, knowing that he needed to stay calm and behave as though he were in control if he wanted Charlie to get through whatever their captors had in store for them.
Even if he felt scared and confused himself.
The sound of chains on the other side of the door drew the brothers' eyes, and they watched as the man with gray eyes entered, carrying his gun. Don rose from the bed, one hand clamped down protectively on Charlie's shoulder.
"You going to tell us what's going on now?" he asked with a bravado he didn't feel.
The man looked at Don curiously, then turned to Charlie. "Dr. Eppes, come with me please."
Don tightened his grip on his brother's shoulder, stilling Charlie's movements. He could feel Charlie's eyes on him, but he continued to stare at their captor.
"Where Charlie goes, I go," he stated.
The man stared back at Don. "Very well," he agreed. "Both of you. Don't try anything, or I will put a bullet in your brother."
Neither Charlie nor Don were entirely sure who the man was referring to, but both decided to be on their best behavior. Charlie slid off of the bed and followed Don out the door, willing to take Don's lead.
The man guided them through the basement to another room. This room was about the size of their cell, but contained a table and chairs. The walls were lined with chalkboards, which held several equations on them. Charlie wanted to look closely at them, but the man gestured to the chairs with his gun. Don pushed Charlie into one chair, then sat down beside him.
Their captor took a seat across the table from them as another man entered. This man was tall and lanky, with dark hair and eyes hidden behind a pair of thick glasses. He looked at the brothers, then turned to their captor.
"Which one is he, Sarro?" he asked.
The man with the gray eyes gestured to Charlie. "The little one."
The man with glasses looked at Charlie, studying him carefully. Charlie shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, glancing at Don.
"Dr. Eppes," the man finally said. "An honor to meet you. I'm Dr. Emmanuel Reed."
He held out his hand, which Charlie only stared at. Reed waited for a few moments, then withdrew his hand.
"Suspicious, understandable," Reed commented. His accent matched that of Sarro's, but wasn't as thick. "I'm sure you're wondering why we've brought you here."
"The thought has crossed our minds," Don spoke up.
Reed looked at him. "Who are you?"
"He's my brother, Don," Charlie answered quickly.
Reed looked at Sarro, who said, "We weren't expecting anyone else to be there. We don't need any witnesses."
Reed nodded, then shrugged. Sitting down beside Charlie, he leaned forward. Charlie leaned back slightly, closer to Don, uncomfortable with Reed's close proximity.
"We have some mutual friends, Dr. Eppes," Reed began. "I understand you're helping out with a little problem with the satellites?"
"What makes you say that?" Charlie asked nervously.
Reed smiled. "Come now, Dr. Eppes, there's no longer a need for secrecy. I know you were asked to help, and I also know that you're fairly close to finishing those equations for NASA. The reason you're here is that I need to know what you know."
"I don't understand," Charlie stated.
Don did. "The signal," he said suddenly. "It wasn't from outer space after all. You people put it there. Why?"
Reed glanced at Don, then turned back to Charlie. "Your brother is pretty bright. Yes, we put it there. Actually, I'm the man responsible. It took a lot of complex and delicate strings of numbers to hide our transmissions in our own enemy's satellites. It was quite brilliant, really."
"But . . . why?" Charlie asked.
"How better to relay our information to our men than in the one way you would never suspect?" Reed countered. "Your government is so busy monitoring our standard methods for communicating that they would never think to look in their own systems. By the time they realize what we've been up to, it'll be too late."
"Wh-What are you planning to do?" Charlie stammered, afraid of the answer.
Reed waggled a finger at Charlie. "Now, now, Dr. Eppes, I can't go giving out all my country's secrets, now can I? Tell me; what have you told NASA?"
"I-I haven't told them anything," Charlie answered. "I was still working on the problem when you grabbed me."
"You wouldn't be lying to me, would you?" Reed asked.
Sarro stood and aimed his weapon first at Charlie, then at Don. Charlie's breath quickened, his heart jumping in his chest.
"N-No, I swear," he said, clearly agitated. "Really, I haven't shared anything! I'm telling you the truth!"
"Good," Reed said. "Then we'll just be needing one more thing from you."
"Wh-What's that?" Charlie asked, fidgeting in his chair.
"Now that our transmissions have been discovered, we need to find a better way of concealing them," Reed stated. "You're going to help me develop a new encryption that we can use that will be undetectable by your government."
Charlie began to shake his head. "What? N-No, I can't . . ."
Reed stood, his face suddenly grave. "I strongly suggest you rethink your answer, Dr. Eppes," he said. "We would certainly hate to have anything happen to you. Or your brother."
Sarro rounded the table and grabbed Don by the arm. Hauling Don to his feet, he punched Don solidly in the stomach. Charlie cried out in protest as Don doubled over, wincing and clutching his stomach. Sarro struck Don across the face with his gun, sending Don crashing to the floor.
Reed grabbed Charlie's shoulders and turned Charlie away from his brother. "We will give you one hour to rest, and then you'll begin your work. I'm looking forward to working with you, Dr. Eppes."
Charlie watched the men depart, locking the door behind them. As soon as they had gone, Charlie leaped up and ran to his brother's side, helping Don sit up straight.
"Don, are you okay?" he asked frantically.
"I've had worse," Don assured him, still winded.
Charlie looked unconvinced. "Don, what do I do? They want me to break national security! I can't do that, but I can't let them hurt you."
Don met Charlie's eyes. "Charlie, you listen to me. Don't worry about me, all right? I can take care of myself. You just do what you can to keep yourself safe. If that means you have to help these sons of bitches, then fine. I'll find a way to get us out of this. You just worry about yourself."
"Don," Charlie began to protest.
"I mean it, Charlie," Don insisted. "Don't go putting yourself into unnecessary danger. All right?"
Charlie sighed, looking up at the numbers on the board. Through the fear for his brother's safety, a reassuring stream of numbers filtered through his mind, slowly sprouting into the beginnings of an idea.
"I know that look," Don commented. "What is it?"
Charlie looked at him. "I think I know a way to get us both out of here."
"Don't keep me in suspense," Don said. "Let's have it."
Charlie rocked back on his heels. "If I'm supposed to develop the string of numbers that conceals the transmissions, then I can leave a specific trail behind the stream. It would be picked up by anyone paying attention."
"What kind of trail?" Don asked.
"A separate sequence of numbers, detailing where we are and what's going on," Charlie answered. "It wouldn't be that easy to pick up unless you were looking."
"How do you know anyone's looking for it?" Don wanted to know.
"NASA's watching the satellite transmissions closely right now because of what they've been detecting," Charlie pointed out. "Someone will pick it up, decrypt our message, and come help us."
Don stared at Charlie. "That sounds complicated. And dangerous. Can you really do that?"
Charlie smiled faintly.