Show: NUMB3RS
Genre: Action/Adventure/Suspense
Rated: T (some violence and language, but it'll be kept at a minimum)
Pairing: Don/Terry friendship
Summary: As Charlie works on his formula to find the perpetrators of a devastating robbery and murder spree, Terry disappears. When Don and the team are given an ultimatum, will they be able to find her in time and uncover the identities of the criminals before another attack?
Disclaimer: I swear I don't own NUMB3RS. I swear I don't make money by writing this. Please don't beat down my door and arrest me, nice-awesome-CBS-executive-people.
Chapter Seven:
Don looked at his watch – they had exactly three minutes before their next call from Terry's captors. David and Brooks were both nearby, pacing anxiously during the final minutes of the countdown. The cell phone was hooked up to a tape recorder, speaker, tracer, and voice processor, an entire table sagging under the weight of the machinery. Don was confident that they wouldn't miss anything during this call; this man's voice was their only evidence against him, the only way to get an identity or profile.
Charlie was still at home copying the work of one of his equations to use as their decoy. The work was going to take hours if it was going to be at all convincing, so the next phone call was going to be one of critical negotiation. Don only hoped that the caller would be willing to compromise and give him that time – if not, things could get difficult. At this point, he couldn't afford to piss this guy off without putting Terry into even more danger.
The cell phone suddenly rang, and Don nodded to the technician who pressed the record button on the recorder and started the tracing program. The room fell silent as everyone focused on the ringing phone, and Don pressed the speaker button.
"Agent Eppes, are you ready to talk?" He felt his stomach tighten as the man's slimy voice filled the room.
"Yes. I'm prepared to negotiate for Agent Lake's life, but I can't give you the formula right now," he said.
"Well, then I'm afraid that's not good enough," he heard, "I've told you the conditions – I get the formula immediately, and you can have your agent back. If you don't have the formula for me, then we don't have anything to discuss…and I have a gun to go load."
It was time to make his move. "Wait, that's not what I meant. I'm working on getting you the formula, but I need clearance from some upper level Bureau officers – they won't let me give it to you without it. We need more time."
He held his breath and glanced at David who was staring apprehensively at the tracing machine. 'Thirty seconds,' he mouthed. They had to keep him on the line for another half minute and they'd have a number; Don had to hold him until then.
"How long will this clearance take?" the voice finally responded.
"No later than tomorrow morning – they promised to push it through as soon as possible. But that's where you come in. You need to give us the time to get this done; I want your word that Terry will be safe until then."
"The trade still stands – I get what I want, you can have her back. Now, I want you to listen very closely Agent Eppes: tomorrow morning at 10:00, I expect all of the work for the formula to be left inside the phone booth on East Avenue, and all of your men have to be out of there by 10:15. Don't even try setting up a surveillance team – if there's one camera, one agent within a block of that phone, I'll kill her. If there's one paper missing from your brother's work, her brains will be splattered all over the sidewalk. Don't doubt that for a minute."
"Trust me, I believe you," Don said, "Now, I want to talk to her. I want to know she's okay."
"She's fine. You can see her tomorrow…that's if we get what we want."
"How do I know you haven't already killed her? I want to talk to Agent Lake right now!" Don demanded.
The voice issuing from the speaker remained as irritatingly calm as ever, barely acknowledging Eppes' request, "I'm afraid you're just going to have to trust me that she's still alive – besides, the more you keep talking, the more convinced I become that I don't really need this whole deal to begin with. Would you like to scrap it right now?"
"No," Don gritted his teeth, "When do we get Terry back?"
"Provided the formula is there by 10:00, and I approve of everything you've given me, you can have her back tomorrow afternoon. I'll drop her off somewhere close by – and don't even think about asking me where. I expect a clean get away, with no Feds or police officers around. All you have to worry about is having the formula in that phone booth by 10:00 tomorrow morning. And no tricks, Agent Eppes, or she's dead."
The cell phone signal went dead as the man hung up the phone. Don immediately rushed over to David, who was waiting by the tracer. "Was he on the line long enough? Do we have a number?"
David nodded, "Yeah, just long enough. The number should be coming right about…now." The computer screen lit up with a phone number that David printed off.
"All right!" David clapped Brooks on the shoulder, "Let's see if we can get an address and a name to go with that number. Get it down to –"
"Don't bother," Don looked up from the printed sheet he was holding, "It's Terry's number. He used her cell phone." He stared at the paper, shoulders slumping, until he angrily crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the trash.
Brooks turned morosely to the voice processor, leaning over the technician's shoulder who was carefully analyzing and dissecting the phone conversation. David nodded at Don, who silently transferred temporary team command to his friend as he gathered his things to go home and check on Charlie's progress. Don picked up one of the taped copies of the conversation and left without another word. Now, Terry's life depended on Charlie's forged formula, so he needed to make sure it was convincing and believable. With all luck, this nightmare would be over by this time tomorrow afternoon, but, he thought worriedly, luck didn't seem to be on their side.
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Terry shifted uncomfortably on the floor where she was dozing. Every position was painful – her ribs hurt so badly it was difficult to breathe. She had no idea how long she had been trapped in the tiny closet, but time certainly seemed to pass very slowly in the complete darkness of the little room. She had tried opening the closet door, but it was locked from the outside, meaning she was truly trapped and at the mercy of her captors. At first, she had tried to stay awake and alert, listening to the muffled conversations from downstairs, but she got little out of this. Her cell phone was gone too, so any information she managed to glean from them would be little help. In the end, she decided to rest, finally falling into an exhausted, restless sleep on the closet floor.
Now, probably hours later, she awoke feeling stiff and groggy, her stomach pinched with hunger. Opening her eyes, she blinked, surprised at the lightened room. She looked up and saw her captor standing above her, leaning against a stucco wall, staring blandly at her. Terry struggled to sit up, and her head pounded in protest, waves of dizziness washing over her; the concussion must have been worse than she'd first suspected.
"What do you want?" she asked him bitterly.
"Watching you," he said with a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, "Aren't you wondering why I haven't killed you yet?"
She shook her head. "You must want something. You're using me as some sort of…hostage or bargaining chip. If you don't keep me alive, you'll lose your advantage."
"Hmm," he leaned closer to her, "And are you wondering why I haven't raped you yet?"
Terry felt her throat involuntarily tighten, but she willed herself to keep her air of clinical detachment. "Not really. Again, you can't afford to compromise your only token to getting what you want, and I could tell right away that you aren't a rapist. You do love control, but you aren't the type to sexually assault someone – you're much cleaner cut than that."
"Well, thank you very much, Ms. Lake," he said, smiling broadly.
"That wasn't a compliment," she shot back, "I was only saying that instead of being a bastard who's a rapist, you're only a bastard who's arrogant enough to think that he can get whatever he wants through threats and over handed hostage negotiations."
He was silent, though she could see a muscle working in his jaw. "What do you want, anyway? If you took the time and effort to kidnap me, I'd think you'd realize that I have nothing of value to you."
This provoked a reaction from him, "Now who's being arrogant? This doesn't have anything to do with you, you little bitch. This goes much further than you – you just happened to be a handy means to achieve our end."
"And what would that be?"
"Insurance," he smiled, "My friends and I are very interested in that formula that your partner has his brother working on. We've been working carefully for three months, not slipping up once, and your genius has to come along and invent a way to find us. We couldn't afford that."
Terry was shocked; this was the man who had been robbing and killing families without consequence for the past three months and here he was in another position to escape, this time stealing the FBI's only means of catching him as well. But she knew Don – he would never give in to this man's threats, and she didn't expect him to bargain with a conscience-less terrorist for her life.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you," she said, "But Agent Eppes wouldn't negotiate with a criminal. You'll never get him to give you that formula…and he knows that I don't expect him to."
"Obviously you don't know your partner as well as you thought. I've already spoken with him, and he's assured me that we have the full cooperation of him and the entire Bureau. I just needed to make sure he understood I had no qualms about a hole through that pretty forehead of yours," he said, fingering the handgun on his belt.
Terry couldn't believe what he was telling her. She knew that Don would never give him the formula – the ramifications of such an action could be disastrous. He must have a plan up his sleeve, and her captor's cooperation obviously depended on his falling for Don's trick; she kept her face passive.
He gave her another sadistic grin and left, slamming the closet door and plunging her back into complete darkness. Terry groaned shakily and sagged against the wall. 'Don,' she thought, 'I sure hope that your plan is a good one. I think we're going to need it.'
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