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Chapter 7
Thursday, June 23
5:35 P.M.
FBI field office, Los Angeles

"Bad news, Don."

He swiveled in his seat to stare at David, who was approaching his desk with a printout in his hand. "Please don't tell me that's the last one."

The younger agent nodded unhappily. "Fifteen hundred and ninety-three auto body shops in Los Angeles County that handle A/C repair. Only twelve of them have any illicit freon, and nowhere near the total in that shipment we confiscated."

Don leaned his head all the way back to stare at the ceiling. "I guess Orange County is next, then."

David groaned. "It'll probably take another week to cover all -- " he checked the printout in his hand -- "one thousand and twenty-eight of them. You're not in a hurry, are you?"

"Well, according to Charlie's calculations, we might have only two days before another shipment comes in, so yes, we're in a hurry."

"I thought you needed to know where the freon was being used before you could figure out when the next load was due in." David perched on Terry's desk.

He shook his head. "We thought so, too, but he pointed out that if Kirovski, Russia, is the point of origin for the freon, all he had to do was look at the distance between the last stop of a ship and its time of arrival in L.A. or Long Beach to see if it could have made an extra stop. He's been going over ships' records from the past year or so to see how they stack up."

David whistled. "That must be thousands of ships."

"Yeah. He's already identified two likely candidates, one of which is due to arrive in two days." Don leaned forward and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. "He's determined to compute an answer for us. It really bothered him that he couldn't figure it all out with some equation when I asked him. That P vs. NP thing is like his nemesis or something."

"But he figured it out anyway, right? You said that he suggested checking the ballast water in the ship to see where it came from."

"But that wasn't using math."

"Oh." David reflected for a moment. "A lot of times when he helps us out, it's not really using math, is it? He's just a smart guy."

"Yeah, but he gets so defensive sometimes. You've heard him go off about how everything is numbers. I think he takes it personally when sometimes that's not the case."

David smiled. "Yeah, for something that isn't even his job, he sure gets wrapped up in the work here."

"I think he does see it as his job. He's a professor of applied mathematics, right? So everything he does here is applying his skills, being an applied mathematician."

"Without getting paid. I mean, he must spend hours doing stuff for you. If he billed all that…"

Don looked away. "I don't think it's just for me, David, I think it's for the cases. He likes the work; he's said so a number of times. Besides, he consults for lots of government agencies, not just us."

"Think what you like." David hopped off the desk and tapped Don's arm with the folded-up printout he still held. "Charlie wouldn't put in the hours he does here if it weren't for you." Then he walked away across the bullpen.

Don rubbed his chin in thought. Just like Dad had said a month ago. Until Charlie nearly walked in front of that sniper's bullet, he hadn't really given it much thought. But he'd been watching his brother since then, and he was starting to realize that their father was right. And now even other team members were noticing it. While he knew Charlie enjoyed the challenge of a real-life problem, and that he tended to work himself into the ground on his own projects, he hadn't yet said no to Don.

Until last week. Even then, he could tell it had obviously pained his little brother to have to turn him down, not because of time constraints, but because for once, his brilliant mind and his beloved mathematics weren't up to the task. He'd certainly done a lot to help since then, even overcoming the original problem by using a completely different approach. That was purely serendipitous, thanks to Dad's date, but it had the same result in the end. He hoped Charlie's estimate of the next freon shipment would be useful, otherwise it was really going to upset him.

Terry's voice behind him broke his train of thought. "Good, Don, you're still here."

He swiveled to face her. "I thought you left for the day."

"I did, but when I got home, I had a piece of mail that I thought you should see." She held out a small package wrapped in plain brown paper, her name and address scrawled across the front.

"Whoa!" He instinctively pushed his chair backward, holding his hands up in front of him. "Has someone downstairs looked at that? Or David? He's the bomb expert, you know."

She was shaking her head, turning it over to show him she had already neatly slit the package open. "No, it's nothing like that. But it has some bearing on the case."

"Don't do that to me, Terry." He reached out and took the package from her.

"Sorry. I did examine it carefully before I opened it, you know." Her voice was reproachful.

He shot her a glance of apology. "I've heard stories about the Russian mafia. If that's who we're dealing with here…" He broke off as he opened the box and took out a small keychain shaped like a volleyball. It been resting on top of a postcard which showed a Japanese woodcut of boats sailing out of a harbor. On the back of the postcard was scrawled a message. "Happy belated birthday, Terry. Sorry I missed it; maybe we can catch up at that 24/6 diner you like near Seal Beach. Call me."

He held the two items up. "Isn't your birthday in February?"

She nodded. "I think it's just an excuse for sending me a message. Recognize the postcard?"

He squinted at it. "Should I?"

"It's one of the 'Eight Views of Omi,' a famous serious of Japanese woodblock prints from the nineteenth century."

Don shifted in his chair. "I have to admit, art history class was kinda better for napping than notetaking."

She gave him a mock glare. "This particular one features the Kyoto harbor."

He flipped the postcard over. "And the message? What kind of a diner is open twenty-four hours but only six days a week?"

"Seal Beach is right next to Long Beach. Mick's European, so he writes the date with the month after the day. June 24, Long Beach harbor, a ship from Kyoto."

He checked the calendar. "That's tomorrow night. That's before Charlie's deadline."

"He might not have found all the possible candidates yet."

Don blew out a breath. "Yeah, and he's going to be pissed to find out he's missed one already. All right, can you tell David what we've got? Let me call Ramos at Customs and get a list of the ships scheduled to make port tonight to see if there's any from Kyoto. If there are, I think you'd better cancel any hot dates you've got tomorrow."

"You're the one with the hot date," she retorted.

"It's just lunch, but that might not even be possible." He sighed. "What was that I was saying about matching up an FBI agent's schedule and a doctor's?"

"She'll understand, Don." Terry laid a sympathetic hand on his arm. "Once this case gets wrapped up, you'll have a lot more free time."

"Until the next one comes along," he muttered. "All right, let's get to work and get ready to spring another trap."

oooooooooooooo

Friday, June 24
12:30 P.M.
Olvera Street, L.A.

Karen ducked inside the small Mexican restaurant and quickly scanned the patrons, unaccustomed butterflies rising in her stomach. Finally she spotted Don towards the back, discussing something on his cell phone in a low voice. She stood there for a moment, unsure about whether or not to interrupt him. As she waited indecisively, he noticed her across the crowded restaurant and waved her over. So she took a deep breath and threaded her way through the tables, one hand unconsciously reaching up to smooth down her flyaway hair.

As she came closer, she heard him say, "Okay, thanks for letting me know. I'll get back to you in a couple of hours." Then he flipped the phone closed and smiled at her. "Hi."

"Hi." She gestured at the phone as she sat down in the booth across from him. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

He tucked the phone back in his pocket. "No, it's okay. Like I told you on the phone last night, something came up and I've got a lot of work to do tonight. We're just making final arrangements."

She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Is it about the smugglers?" Somehow she envisioned mysterious crates being unloaded in the dead of night in some isolated, windswept cove, with a tall ship vanishing into the mists. In reality, she knew it was probably drugs or human smuggling or something else equally abhorrent, but the romantic image was easier to hold onto.

He met her eyes briefly before looking away. "I can't really say. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I understand." She sat back against the booth, ignoring a pang of disappointment. "At least we had made plans for lunch, not dinner, right?"

"Yeah," he agreed. Then they were briefly interrupted by the waiter taking their orders, and then again when their drinks arrived.

When they were alone again, Karen started, "Listen, I'm sorry about the other night."

"Don't worry about it. One of the hazards of the job, right?" he said with a quick, sympathetic smile.

"I guess you could say that." She looked down to hide her sudden relief. It was easy to make polite noises about being interrupted at dinner, but she'd been worried all week that that Don was only being polite about her need to end things early. Now, looking at his understanding expression, she put her fears to rest. He really didn't hold it against her.

He was adding quietly, "Besides, I still had a good time." His voice was warm and sincere, and she felt her cheeks growing pink. Yeah, she thought, for only half a date, it was really nice.

"So how did it turn out with your patient?" He leaned forward and took a sip of water.

"Oh, it was a false alarm. Still, better to be safe than sorry, right?" She stopped to stifle a large yawn. Her morning Starbucks had apparently worn off. At least it was Friday and she had a light schedule this afternoon.

Don was looking at her with the same concerned expression he'd had in his office last week. "Are you sleeping all right?" he asked.

"Better than I was." She toyed with the straw in her iced tea. Actually, last night had been the only rough night all week. Don had called to tell her that their lunch date might be cut short because of a big operation that had just come up. Then she found herself unable to sleep, for once not because she was reliving the events at the safe house, but because she was wondering what he was going to be doing Friday night and how dangerous it was.

She looked up, determined to change the subject. "So, last week you were telling me about why you joined the FBI."

His look indicated that he knew what she was doing, but he let it slide. "Yeah, that's right."

"Was it right out of college?"

He smiled. "No, not exactly." She gave him a questioning look, and he went on, "I actually went to college on a baseball scholarship, and I played minor league ball for a couple of years."

"Wow." She sat back in her seat. "That's really cool."

He shrugged and reached for a tortilla chip, but she thought she saw a faint flush on his cheeks. "I wasn't that good, or I'd have stayed with it."

"Who did you play for?"

"The Stockton Rangers."

She tried to picture him in a baseball uniform and was pleased with the image that came to mind. "They're a farm team for the Giants, right?"

"You kidding? The Oakland A's. I've been a Dodgers fan since birth, Karen. I couldn't play for the Giants, even on a farm team."

She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "You do know that I grew up near San Francisco, right? Did I mention that my family had season tickets to Candlestick Park?"

He looked at her for a long moment, his face growing serious. Then he leaned back in the booth and shook his head sadly. "Karen, I don't think this is going to work between us."

She swore her heart skipped a beat. Then she saw the teasing gleam in his eye, and she reached out and swatted his arm. "You!"

He was chuckling now, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that delightful smile of his. "Tell you what," he said as he leaned forward. "The Giants are in town in a couple of weeks. I haven't been to see the Dodgers yet this year, and I'd love to see an easy win. Want to come along?"

"Gosh, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?" She looked into his eyes, distracted for a moment by their brown depths. God, the man had gorgeous eyes. Then she recalled her train of thought and gave him a sly grin. "Are you a betting man, Agent Eppes?"

He drew back. "Doctor Fisher!" he said in a tone of mock surprise. "As a federal agent, I have to warn you that placing bets on sporting events is subject to strict regulation and enforcement."

"Then it's a good thing I have you to watch out for me," she returned with an ovely-innocent expression. All of a sudden, she felt like there was a lot riding on how he responded to her line of flirting. That is, assuming he recognized it as such.

He regarded her for a moment, then leaned forward so that his face was only a foot or so away from hers. "What did you have in mind?" he asked in a gravelly voice that would have weakened her knees if she wasn't already sitting down.

Yes, he had definitely picked up on that signal. "Oh, we can start small," she said as breezily as she could manage. "Winner gets to pick what the next date is."

"After the baseball game." When she nodded, he went on, "That would be our fourth date then, right?"

She blinked, then dropped her hand on the table and sat back. Was she presuming too much? "That's right," she said in a slightly less confident tone.

But he was reaching out and grabbing her hand. "That sounds great," he said quietly, reassuringly stroking his thumb across the back of her hand.

Or at least it was reassuring at first. As she looked down at his long fingers draped over hers, she suddenly began to feel a little warm. She glanced up at Don and saw that his expression had changed. His eyes had grown darker, and then his hand tightened around hers. "Karen," he started in that same low voice, "I -- "

A loud buzzing sound from his shirt pocket interrupted whatever it was he was going to say. He closed his eyes, and she was amused to see him mouth an obscenity. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and, giving her an apologetic glance, flipped it open. "Eppes."

His gaze was locked on hers, and she watched as the corners of his mouth tighten as he listened. "Yeah," he said grimly. "No, that's all right. Okay. Yeah, I'll be there in…ten minutes. All right." He closed the phone and gave her a lopsided grin. "I told you it would be my turn next."

She nodded automatically, reassured to some extent that at least the two of them were symmetrical in this respect. "What is it?"

He called the waiter over, then asked that their food be boxed to go as soon as it was ready. "It's something we've got planned for tonight that's going to happen sooner than expected."

She noticed how quickly his professional mask had slipped back on, and she bit back the comments that sprang to her mind, not wanting to sound weak. Instead, she said, "Be careful, Don."

She must not have been hiding her expression as well as she thought, for his features softened as soon as he looked at her. "Hey," he said softly, reaching out and taking her hand again. "Don't worry about me, okay? This is perfectly routine."

She wondered if he would also classify getting shot at while protecting a witness as "routine," but she bit her tongue. They weren't symmetrical after all, she realized. Don would never have to worry about her safety when she got called away from dinner. Considering how they had met, she didn't suppose she could ever stop worrying about his.

They exited the restaurant and walked briskly to the parking garage. Her car was one floor above his, and she walked him to his Suburban, arguing with herself the whole way about whether or not to ask him something. By the time they reached his vehicle, she had made up her mind not to.

Then he turned to her, and she changed her mind again. "Can you do me a favor?" she blurted out. He cocked his head and she went on, "I know this sounds stupid, but…can you please call me when you get home tonight? No matter what time it is? I know you said this is routine, and I know I don't even know what's going on, but something tells me I won't be able to sleep until I…until I know you're okay." She trailed off at the end and folded her arms across her chest.

He took a step closer. "It'll probably be pretty late, you know."

She shrugged one shoulder. "I'm used to having my sleep interrupted."

"Okay. Then I'll call you when I get home." He gave her a small smile, then leaned forward and kissed her cheek, his lips warm as they brushed her skin. "Thanks for lunch. And for being concerned."

After he drew back, they looked at each other for a long moment. Karen suddenly felt her heart pounding, and although the parking garage was too dark to read Don's eyes, she thought she could see the same curiosity and spark of interest that she was feeling. So she took a small step forward, lifting her face ever so slightly. And as he came forward and lowered his head, their lips met in the middle.

"Spark" was a good word, she thought dazedly a moment later, if a bit of an understatement. Both of them had been a bit hesitant at first, but then she slowly snaked an arm around his waist, and he reached up to run a hand through her hair, and she gave a little sigh as their lips slanted across each other. When they eventually pulled apart, he tightened his arms around her and leaned his forehead against hers. "Now I wish I didn't have to leave," he murmured, his low voice sending shivers down her spine.

"I know," she said. "Me too." He leaned forward to kiss her again, and she responded readily, breathing in the masculine scent that was making her head spin while holding him as close to her as she dared. When the kiss ended, she pushed him away firmly. "And if you don't go now, I might not let you."

He gave her another full smile and backed towards his car. "I'll call you tonight."

"Please do. And please, Don, be careful."

She watched him drive away, realizing that if they kept seeing each other, this was likely to keep happening: her worrying about his safety, him not able to tell her the details of what he was doing. Her best friend from college was married to a cop, and she knew it could be a difficult life. She had often wondered if it would be worth it, if she met a man in a similar situation.

Then she thought of Don's kiss, and a slow smile spread across her face. Oh, yes, it would be worth it. Definitely so.