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.

Author's Note: Sorry that this one took so long to post. Time was hard to come by this week. In case you were wondering, Star Wars was amazing – saw it twice in twelve hours. Prom was pretty good too, and I was actually named to Prom Court, which was a weird turn of events. Anyway, 12 days of school left, and I hope to finish this story up in the next few weeks. Enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen:

Don scratched in an irritated fashion at the bandages around his left hand. Tursack had insisted that he get his wrist checked out after his fight with Agent Brooks. It turned out he had sprained several of the metacarpals, so he was now sporting layers of sports tape and gauze around his wrist until he got the time to properly splint it. The entire time the doctor had examined his hand, Don was restless and impatient, and he imagined he could hear in his head a steady countdown of the time that he had left to find Terry. Now, quickly striding toward one of the interrogation rooms, he was no less anxious, and he hoped that Brooks would be forthcoming with the information they needed.

Upon reaching the hallway of interrogation rooms, he glanced at the one-sided mirror that overlooked room four, where Brooks was being kept for questioning. Brooks, his lip puffy and swollen from where Don had decked him, was sitting at one end of the table, hands folded in his lap and staring obstinately at David who stood across from him. Don took a deep breath and entered the door, giving a nod to David who moved to join him.

"Any luck?" he asked in a low voice.

David shook his head. "He refuses to speak to anyone. But he did say that he'd rather talk to you personally."

Don glanced over at Brooks who was apathetically watching the conversation between the two agents and giving no indication that he understood or cared. "Well, we already know what drives him. He's greedy; he doesn't care about anyone but himself. We need to convince him that it'll benefit him in the long run to talk rather than clam up. Plus, I don't think he'll have any hesitation about turning in his accomplices – loyalty doesn't seem to mean much to him."

David nodded, gave a grim smile, and patted Don on the shoulder, moving aside to let the older agent have a try with the suspect. Don walked to the other end of the table, never taking his eyes from Brooks, who scrutinized him with an equally thorough manner. He pulled out one of the chairs and sank into it, rubbing his chin with his hand.

"I hear that you're not speaking with Agent Sinclair," he said casually.

Brooks gave an indifferent toss of his head. "I just thought it'd be better to speak with the head of the team. I mean, you are in charge of this case, aren't you? You are the one responsible for making sure Agent Lake gets back safely? I'm sure that you'd understand the stakes here a little bit more than Agent Sinclair, wouldn't you?"

Don allowed the pointed questions to roll off of him. "Agent Lake is a valuable member of the Bureau, and everyone here understands and appreciates her importance. That's not a valid reason for refusing to respond to direct questioning."

Suddenly, Brooks' face lit up with a malicious, provocative smile. "Oh yes, I'm sure that everyone appreciates Agent Lake…some of us more than others, wouldn't you say, Eppes?"

Again, Don pushed away the impulse to reach across the table and throttle the man in front of him. Brooks was trying to jab him personally, needle him into getting sloppy and careless. "Agent Sinclair said that you wanted to speak to me, and I'm listening."

"I do want to talk to you, but first I want to hear what you can do for me. I'm not going to give you any information until I'm given some assurance that you're going to help me out with my sentence," Brooks said seriously.

Don was expecting this, and he flicked his eyes toward David who gave him a subtle nod of his head – he caught the man's reference to self-preservation as well. "You've admitted to leaking classified information from the FBI, aiding and abetting known criminals, serving as an accessory to domestic terrorism, and assisting in the kidnapping of a Federal agent. We're talking thirty years of prison time – I don't know how much I'm going to be able to help you…or if I want to."

Leaning forward and resting his arms on the tabletop, Brooks pinned Don with a penetrating stare. "Then we're finished here. If you don't help me, there's no information, and your friend is dead this time tomorrow."

Putting on a reluctant face, Don rubbed his forehead with his hands. He needed to make sure that Brooks was convinced – if he was too eager to agree to the conditions, Brooks might get greedy with his demands, and Don couldn't afford to give him any more leeway than he had to. "All right, look…I can probably make sure that you're put on house arrest for part of your sentence, and I can see if you can have expanded privileges – more phone calls, longer visiting hours, television."

Brooks gave a small, sad smile. "That's not good enough. I want to know what you're going to do about my sentence."

"You know I don't have any control over that! You're facing multiple charges, all of which…" Don fell into silent pensiveness. "What if I convince them to drop the charge for domestic terrorism? I'm not promising anything, but it could reduce your prison time by a few years."

He held his breath as the man across from him contemplated the offer, searching Don's face for any hint of insincerity or duplicity. Apparently satisfied, he sat back with a nod. "I'm holding you to that, Agent Eppes."

"I've given you what you wanted; now it's time for you to talk." Don motioned to David, who sat next to him at the table with a pen and paper, ready to scribble down notes. "The man who has Terry – I want his name and where we can find him."

"Bill Klaptosky. All he gave me as far as contact information goes is a cell phone number, which I have in my office," Brooks rattled off in a monotone voice.

"We'll need a physical description of him as well," Don said.

"I don't know what he looks like." At Don's confused expression, he explained, "Bill's very careful. He doesn't make contact with people whom he doesn't explicitly trust. He had one of his friends first approach me, but I've never seen that man again, either."

"Why did he want Charlie's formula?" Don asked.

"You've already figured that one out," Brooks said. "He'd been really careful not to leave any evidence at the crime scenes from his robberies and murders, and now there was a way that he could get caught. He couldn't afford for that to happen, so when I told him about Charlie's idea, he wanted a way to get it."

"By kidnapping Agent Lake? Who suggested that?"

"Does it really matter?" Brooks asked with a serene expression. "I just happened to remember that she would be walking home that night, and Bill seemed to think that would be the easiest way. I told him the route she would probably take, and he took care of the rest."

Feeling anger at the man's nonchalant attitude boil up inside him, Don swallowed, forcing himself to keep his mind on the interrogation. "Where'd he take her?"

Brooks shrugged as though the matter were irrelevant. "He didn't tell me. Our relationship is strictly on a need-to-know basis, and I don't ask too many questions.

Don had had enough of the agent's unflinching superiority. "I want to know everything that you did to help Bill Klaptosky in the course of this case."

Smiling slightly, Brooks said, "Don't you think I should have my attorney present to answer that?"

"Humor me. There's already enough evidence to convict you, and I'm sure if we search your office we'll find plenty more."

Brooks shrugged. "There's not that much more than what I've told you. I helped him find Agent Lake, told him about the formula, gave him updates as to your progress…he wasn't very happy when I mentioned that you sent him a forged formula. He was pretty pissed about that."

Don ground his teeth angrily, jaw clenching forcefully. "Just two more questions for now. Has he already killed Agent Lake, and is he serious about his ultimatum? Will he kill her?"

"She's not dead yet, but yes – he is completely serious when he says he'll kill her. You should be thankful that he gave you a second chance. It surprised me that he didn't shoot her as soon as he found out about the forgery."

David and Don exchanged concerned glances and rose from the table. David motioned to one of the security guards outside of the room, who entered to escort Brooks to one of the cells in the brig down the hall. "We'll speak with you again soon, Brooks."

"I'm sure you will Agent Eppes. Just remember our agreement." He allowed the guard to take him by one arm and steer him out the door toward the far end of the corridor.

Don took up the notepad on the table. "Let's go see what we can find on Bill Klaptosky."

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"I've got him!" David said happily. Don sat up straighter and leaned closer to the computer screen. They'd been looking for their suspect in the Federal databanks for the past half-hour without luck, and Don was starting to worry that Brooks had given them the wrong name in an effort to throw them off one last time.

"This is him." David pointed to the screen. "Bill Klaptosky. Served a prison sentence in Nevada for burglary. Several more robberies were committed that followed a similar pattern, but there wasn't enough evidence to convict him."

"Sounds like our guy," Don said, examining the man on the screen. He had deep blue eyes that burned out of his chiseled, dark face. His neatly combed brown hair and handsome features somehow seemed out of place on their prime suspect for a murder and robbery spree. "Does the databank have his phone number or address?"

Quickly scanning down the screen, David shook his head. "The only ones that they have on file are from his previous home in Nevada. After he served his sentence, he fell out of touch with the system and slipped away."

"Agent Eppes?" Don looked up toward the doorway and saw Agent Simons standing in the threshold, holding a piece of paper and wearing a bright smile. "I contacted the cell phone companies in the local area for information on the number that Brooks has been calling."

Don stood, taking the outstretched paper that Simons was holding. "I got lucky on my third call – the number and the phone are licensed to a Mr. Bill Klaptosky, and we were able to get his home address from the company as well."

Don caught David's eye, and they exchanged excited grins. "There's one more thing," Simons said, "I ran the address by your brother, and he tried plugging it into that formula of his. It fits – he thinks it's the real thing."

Clapping Simons on the shoulder, Don clenched the paper in his hand, leading the other officers toward Tursack's office where he hoped they could finally begin planning Terry's recovery mission.

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