5:50 pm
By the time he'd left the house with Keith Wilson to retrieve the data he needed at his office on campus, Charlie had had several days to get used to the idea of a bodyguard, and had gotten pretty good at ignoring the fact that someone had to follow him everywhere. Knowing that he was uncomfortable about the whole situation, Don had chosen people Charlie knew to do the one-on-one bodyguard work, and Charlie found Agent Wilson relatively easy to get along with. He'd gotten to know him through his work with Don's team at the Bureau and, unlike some of the other agents, he treated Charlie like a normal person instead of a freak or worse, Don's little brother.
They'd been discussing baseball, a topic outside of math on which Charlie could converse and felt comfortable with. He'd spent enough years watching Don play that he knew a lot about the game. And Keith seemed genuinely interested in the statistical probabilities of triple plays and how it was that Charlie was able to predict the way a player's swing would go by the way he stood at bat. Okay, so it wasn't exactly a topic outside of math but it was better than waxing poetic about Euler circuits and Fibonacci numbers. All said, it was going well, until they pulled into the parking lot.
Thunder boomed in the distance as they left the car and lightning flashed in bright streaks across the sky. The smell of impending rain was heavy in the air. It was getting cool fast. Charlie rolled down the sleeves of his white button up shirt and silently wished he'd brought a jacket. In light of the breaking weather, the two men quickly made their way through the growing darkness toward the math building where Charlie's office was located. At the entrance to the building, someone was waiting for them.
"Yo, Wilson. I called for you at the house but Mr. Eppes said you'd be coming here."
"Carlson." The contempt in Keith's voice was veiled but still present. None of Don's team liked the agent. None of the other agents in the office did either.
Jack Carlson turned his ice blue gaze on Charlie. "So, Dr. Eppes. I hear through the grapevine that you're next on the hit parade."
"Yeah," Charlie gave him a fake smile. "Lucky me, huh? Now if you'll excuse us, we have something to do."
"Actually, I need to convey a message to Agent Wilson here. You need to call in, someone left an urgent message for you at the desk."
Wilson frowned at him. "Why didn't they just call on my cell?"
"Lightning's been interfering in the signal." Above them, another jagged streak crossed the sky, as if to illustrate the truth of what he was saying. "They were working on fixing the problem when I left, so it might be okay by now. Why don't you try and call in and I'll escort Dr. Eppes to his destination."
"I, uh, I think I can find my destination just fine, thanks anyway," Charlie informed the agent coolly and began to walk off.
Carlson grabbed his arm and held on. "Your brother said you were to be guarded at all times," he said condescendingly. "See, you're a valuable asset, now, so we've got to keep an eye on you."
Charlie's steady gaze held Carlson's as he shook off the man's less than gentle touch. "I'm sure I'll manage," he insisted coldly.
"He's right Charlie, those were Don's orders," Keith regretfully reminded him. "Look, why don't you go ahead. I'll call in and meet up with you in a minute, okay?" Keith knew that Charlie was not comfortable with Agent Carlson. Hell, no one was, but he had to check in and Carlson was, after all, an FBI agent, even if he wasn't directly assigned to this case.
He watched Carlson follow Charlie down the hallway and then turn left, putting them out his sight. Then he flipped open his phone and prepared to call the office. It rang before he could even dial.
5:55 pm
It had been so easy to ditch Wilson, Carlson gloated to himself as he maneuvered through the dark hallways of the Cal Sci math complex. The moron had bought the story of the urgent message back at the office. Too bad the agent's cell phone had rung where he could hear it. He'd had to double back and take care that he wouldn't be a problem. But now he was faced with a new problem. The FBI was onto him and he didn't have as much time as he'd planned to carry out this last phase of his California Initiative, as he liked to call it. Still, it would take Eppes and Sinclair at least an hour to reach him from Century City and that would be plenty of time to deal with Dr. Charles Eppes.
Carlson was glad he'd taken the time to scope out the building before he'd made the impromptu decision to move up his time frame. Negotiating the dark halls was easy now that he knew exactly where Charlie's office was and where all the exits were. He could be in and out without any problems at all. Jack Carlson almost laughed out loud. Man, this was going to be fun!
Charlie unlocked his office door and flipped the wall switch just as the whole building went dark. The battery-operated alarm clock on his desk flashed 5:56. The unease that had been building in him since he'd arrived on campus uncoiled in his gut and sent tentacles up his spine. Because of the delicate computer equipment and state of the art environmental engineering systems in the newer buildings, lightning surge protectors and failsafe generators had been installed. The only way to cut power to the building was to turn it off at the main electrical panel in the engineering room.
Carlson had said he forgot to tell Keith something and had gone back to the entrance. Going back to the entrance took him past the engineering room. Charlie's mouth went dry and he fought for enough air to breathe while his mind began to process information at an alarming speed.
Carlson was the killer. Carlson had most likely incapacitated or killed Keith Wilson. He and Carlson were the only two people in the building. Carlson was somewhere in the darkness. Carlson was going to try and kill him.
In. Out. In. Out. Charlie knew he was still breathing. He focused on that, focused on something he could use to ground himself because if he didn't the terror would keep him frozen in place. You can do this, he told himself. You can do this. After a moment, he knew he actually could. In the past few days, after the initial shock of everything had worn off, Charlie found that there was a thread of steel in him, the same steel that ran through Don and his father. It was deep and strong and he would be damned if he would roll over and let someone like Jack Carlson take him without a fight.
The clock on the desk flashed 5:58 now. He'd stood there for two whole minutes. It was time to leave. It was time to run. But a whisper of movement behind him told him that his time was gone.
6:00 pm
"We want CHP, LAPD, everything. Tell them we've got an agent down, a victim and an armed and dangerous killer with FBI training in the building. Advise them that building is without power either due to the storm or a deliberate act. Don wants them on that building like flies on a picnic, you got it? Have an ambulance standing by and give us all the back-up from our office you can muster." David shot out commands fast and clear as Don navigated the lumbering SUV through traffic.
"Tell them to go in silent!" Don barked as he ran another red light.
"They need to go in silent," David relayed. "They want our ETA."
Don turned the wheel and they careened around a corner. "Twenty minutes. Twenty goddamn minutes."
A police cruiser with it's lights flashing and sirens wailing cut in front of the SUV and began to clear out the traffic ahead. "Make that fifteen!" Don amended, his relief at the appearance of the requested escort clear in his voice.
"Fifteen minutes. Use this line if you need to reach us before then." Sinclair slapped the cell phone cover closed and pulled out his gun, making sure he had a full clip loaded and ready to go. Without being asked, he reached over and did the same for Don's pistol.
"We'll make it, Don. We'll make it."
"So help me, God, David, if he lays one hand on Charlie …"
"I'm with you, man. I'm with you."
"Charlie's can't handle this. He's not equipped to deal with a one-on-one, hand-to-hand dangerous situation."
David shook his head and cut Don off. "Charlie can handle this just fine. He's smart. And he's a lot stronger than you think. Besides, he's your kid brother. Didn't you teach him how to fight?"
"Yeah, I mean, I tried. Basically, he was so much smaller than everyone else I taught him how to fight dirty. He never had to use it as far as I know. But, that was years ago. He won't … he won't remember."
"You taught him? He'll remember." David was absolutely certain.
"How can you be so sure? I mean, how can you know that for sure?"
"Charlie learned everything from books. What you taught him, you can't learn from a book. Besides, you're his big brother. He'll remember."
6:01 pm
The stunning blow to his left cheek sent Charlie spinning into his office. He came up hard when the right side of his face slammed against the desk. The edge of the desk sliced deep into the skin above his eye and blood ran down the side of his face; he could feel the sticky, wet heat of it against his skin.
"Hello, there, Dr. Eppes!" Carlson's voice said cheerfully from overhead. "I'm glad I caught you during office hours."
A booming laugh filled the small room and Charlie winced at the sound.
Suddenly, he was hauled upward by the front of his shirt and Carlson's fist slammed against the bleeding wound. Charlie would have cried out as the already abused flesh was brutally bruised, but Carlson chose that second to slam another blow into his midsection. The air left Charlie's lungs in a rush. Before he could recover, a fist hit him in the chest. The cracking sound of his ribs giving way was as loud as thunder in his ears. Carlson shook him, hard, and he silently screamed as the jagged ends ground together.
"I'm really glad I have this opportunity to speak privately with you, Dr. Eppes. A man of your obvious intellect and academic stature makes for a fascinating conversationalist."
A hard blow to his mouth accented the last word of Carlson's sentence and Charlie was spinning around again as the strength of it knocked him off his feet. He sprawled face down on his desk. The hit had driven his teeth into his lips and cheek and his mouth was filling with blood. Reflexively, he spat it out.
Through the agony in his chest, Charlie fought to breathe. He managed a short couple of gasps before Carlson struck again, this time with both fists into the unprotected region of his lower back. An uncontrollable cry of pain robbed Charlie of the precious air he'd managed to pull in and he began to feel as if he were suffocating.
"Aw! Having a bit of trouble are we? Well, I'll give you a second to catch your breath. I would hate to have to end our interview too soon." Carlson was smiling. Charlie could hear it in his voice. "You see, Dr. Eppes, I can be just as altruistic as the next man. I have all the qualities of a fine man of learning and education, a man like yourself."
Charlie tried to ignore him and the pounding in his head. Now that he had had a chance to pull some oxygen into his tortured lungs, his instincts were able to catch up. Mindlessly, his hands scrabbled desperately over the desktop in search of anything he might be able to use as a weapon.
"I could have been a big man like you, Dr. Eppes, had I had the chance. But you see I wasn't given the opportunities you were. I wasn't acceptable. Do you know what it's like to be unacceptable?"
Charlie's hand closed over the alarm clock. It wasn't very big, but it was old and it was heavy.
"Answer me!" Carlson's hands pulled Charlie around to face him and Charlie used the impetus of the movement to give him speed. He slammed the alarm clock into the side of Carlson's face.
Carlson yelled and lifted his hands to the injury, releasing Charlie in the process. Charlie hurled himself toward the doorway but Carlson's hand snaked out and caught his left arm in a vice-like grip. He pulled Charlie violently backwards but Charlie resisted. Carlson's other hand reached up and in the strobe effect of the lightning outside Charlie saw the flat, tight hand descend. He struggled harder but in the instant the light faded Carlson delivered a viscious karate chop across Charlie's extended forearm. The bones snapped with a crack and Charlie screamed.
"You little shit!" Carlson yelled as he pinned Charlie up against the wall. "Did you think you could get away? Huh?"
Fingers like iron dug deep into Charlie's throat. The little vision that Charlie had was beginning to dim around the edges. He knew if he didn't do something right now, he was going to die.
"I'm smart, too. Smarter than you now because I'm gonna kill your sorry ass and then I'm gonna kill all the rest of you Omega Tau bastards! I wasn't good enough for you! Why wasn't I good enough for you?!"
Charlie's right hand came up against Carlson's fingers in a helpless reflexive gesture. Everything was turning gray. In a sudden moment of absolute clarity, a hidden memory bubbled to the surface of Charlie's consciousness. He could hear Don's voice as clear as a bell.
"When you're smaller than the other guy, Charlie, and he's got you up against a wall, there's no such thing as a fair fight. You use every dirty trick in the book. Even the one guys are never supposed to use against other guys."
"Won't that make me a wimp, Donny? Won't that make me fight like a girl?"
"If someone is hurting you, Charlie, and you can't fight back, you do what you can. And then you run. There's no shame in running, buddy. Not when you know you can't win."
"What are you going to do now, smart boy?" Carlson gloated as he felt Charlie's struggles get weaker and weaker.
For the last twenty years, Charlie's chief mode of transportation had been his bicycle. To school, from school, around campus - he rode it everywhere. A lot of the areas around Cal Sci were dotted with small hills. This exercise had made Charlie's legs strong. Very strong. In a fraction of a second, Charlie calculated the distance to his target and the maximum force he would need. Then, with a burst of strength, he drove his knee hard into Carlson's groin.
It worked like a charm. Carlson fell like a rock, twitching, to the floor. Charlie caved to his knees, gasping for air. Still, he knew it wouldn't be long before Carlson had recovered enough to try again. As soon as he could manage it, Charlie hauled himself upright, and stumbled into the hall. He overestimated the distance to the other side and stumbled into the wall. His forehead bumped against the cold tile and Charlie moaned. He reached up and tried to wipe away some of the blood with his good hand but it was no use, the flow had not slowed down enough for him to make a difference. Besides, his eye was swelling shut and he couldn't see out of it anyway. Knowing that seconds could mean the difference between living and dying, Charlie willed himself to move. Clenching his teeth against the pain, he cradled his useless left arm against his screaming torso and pushed himself off the wall. Pausing once in a while to steady himself, Charlie wove an unsteady path down the dark hallway, continuing on until even the bloodstained shirt he wore was swallowed by the gloom.
