Charlie moaned as consciousness returned. His head was throbbing mercilessly to the beat of his own heart; it seemed as though his brain was threatening to force its way out of Charlie's skull. He tried to lift his hand to his aching head, only to find that he couldn't move.
Panic caused his heart to skip a beat, reducing the pain in his skull to a throb. His breaths came in sharp gasps as he tried to move his hands and arms, twisting his body against the cords that bound him to his chair.
Pausing, Charlie racked his brain for his latest memories. The last thing he remembered was the man who had picked him up offering him a soda. Charlie had finished about half of his drink while waiting for his luggage when he became dizzy. The man had helped him into the backseat of the car, then . . . nothing.
Drugged! But why? Charlie couldn't understand what anyone would want with him. He wasn't working on any consulting cases for any organization, and this was too complicated to be anything random. He was the specific target. He only had to figure out why.
He sat in the dim light, fighting to loosen the cords around his arms and wrists for what seemed like an eternity when the door to his room opened, admitting the man who had picked him up at the airport.
"Well, look who's back among the living!" the man greeted jovially. He set his camera on a nearby table and shut the door. "That sedative I put in your drink must have reacted pretty strongly with your metabolism. You've been out for awhile."
Charlie glared at the man. "Who are you?"
"Names aren't important right now," the man replied dismissively. "I doubt you'll be around long enough for you to even use it."
A chunk of ice dropped into the pit of Charlie's stomach, spreading throughout his body. The fear he felt was reflected in his eyes, despite Charlie's attempts to remain emotionless.
The man lifted his camera and snapped a couple shots of Charlie, then lowered the camera once more. Taking the pictures, he nodded. "I think your brother will like these ones very much."
Charlie gave a start at the mention of his brother. "Don? What do you want with my brother? Whatever it is, he's not going to give it to you."
The man looked up from the Polaroids he had just taken and regarded Charlie with such an icy stare that it sent shivers up his spine. Lowering the pictures, the man advanced slowly on Charlie.
"Your brother is going to let me do exactly what I want," he hissed, his face just inches from Charlie's. "He knows that, if he doesn't, he'll never see you again."
Charlie swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet his captor's steely blue eyes.
The man sneered and retreated. Charlie heaved a silent sigh of relief as his captor exited the room without another word, taking his camera and pictures with him.
More questions swirled around in Charlie's brain, but he pushed them into the back of his mind. He would focus on getting free first, then try and answer his questions later.
Don sat at his desk, staring intently at his phone. Once the initial shock of Charlie's abduction had worked through his system, Don had returned to the conference room, bellowing order after order to his team to find the connections they were missing. Several more agents were pulled off of the arson case and were presently on their way to New York City to gather more information on Charlie's whereabouts. Once the last order had been given, Don had taken up residency at his desk and hadn't moved or spoken since.
Terry and David sat with him at their own desks, occasionally exchanging concerned glances. They knew that, if it were possible, Don would have been the one to go to New York to look for his brother. But because of the arsonist's impending phone call, Don was stuck waiting in Los Angeles.
He hadn't called his father. He knew Alan would be furious upon finding out that Don was withholding the truth from him, but Don couldn't bring himself to pick up the phone and dial. More than that, Don was afraid of what he would see once the anger faded. He had told Alan not to worry about Charlie, and come to find out that his worries had been founded.
"Don."
Terry's voice. Gentle, insistent, supportive, intrusive to his thoughts. Don answered her with a quiet grunt.
"Don, you should eat something. You haven't eaten all day."
Don didn't reply. He wasn't hungry. He didn't want food. He wanted to find the bastard who had the gall to kidnap his brother and string him up by his entrails.
He heard a rustle of clothes, then Terry's voice again, this time closer than before. "You couldn't have known, Don. There's no way you could have predicted that this would have happened."
"I should have been there," Don finally said, still staring at his phone. "I could have stopped this from happening."
"True," Terry conceded. "Or, you could have been taken right along with him."
"Then he would at least have me there with him, looking out for him," Don pointed out. He shut his eyes and rubbed them wearily. "Dammit, Terry, it was supposed to be some stupid conference. How could this have happened?"
There was silence, then David's voice spoke up. "Have you guys considered the possibility of Carroway's involvement?"
Don finally turned to look at the other agent. "I did think about it, but it's been months. When I first heard about this case, the first thing I did was check on Carroway. He's still locked up."
"Doesn't mean he can't have an accomplice on the outside," Terry pointed out.
Don nodded. "True, but the only similarities we see are college campuses being the focus of the attack. Our arsonist isn't even sticking to the math and science departments; hell, one attack was up the street from a college. If it is a copycat, it's a sloppy one."
"Maybe the arsonist isn't targeting the buildings for the same reason Carroway did," David suggested.
Don sighed heavily and leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. "This could all be connected or it could be one big coincidence. I feel like I'm missing something important, like it's right in front of my face, and I can't see it."
"You're too close to this, Don," Terry observed quietly, placing a comforting hand on Don's arm. "You're focusing on Charlie right now. After this call comes through, maybe you should think about going home and getting some rest. You can come back tomorrow with a clearer head."
Don sat up abruptly and moved his arm away from Terry. "You really think I'm going to be able to get any sleep while my little brother is at the mercy of God knows what?" he demanded, a little more harshly than he had intended.
Terry was saved from answering as Don's phone rang. She moved out of the way before Don could shove her aside in his haste to reach his phone. "Eppes!"
"Agent Eppes. I'm glad you received my message."
Don's knuckles turned white as he gripped his phone. He gestured wildly at Terry to begin the trace. "Where's my brother?"
"You have something I want, Agent Eppes, and I have something you want. That, to me, suggests a trade."
"Listen, whatever you want, just tell me," Don replied. "My brother doesn't have anything to do with the buildings you've been burning down."
A low chuckle filtered down through the line. "I've been burning the buildings down to get your attention, Agent Eppes. I want you to know that I am serious about my demand. Your brother is simply a means to that end."
Don fought down the nausea that swelled in his stomach. "Well, you have my attention now. What do you want?"
"My cousin has been a guest of yours at one of your maximum security facilities for the past few months, Agent, and I would like to see him released," the man stated. "You have been given a specific allotment of time to accomplish this task, and the clock's ticking. If I do not see my dear cousin standing with you once your time runs out, then you will never see your brother again."
"How do I know you haven't already . . . what proof do I have that you'll let Charlie go?" Don demanded. He tripped on the thought of Charlie already dead, quickly brushing the ugly idea aside.
"Believe me, Agent Eppes, you'll know," the man replied coolly.
An email alert suddenly chimed on Don's screen, and he called up the message. To his shock, an image of Charlie appeared, his wide, fearful eyes staring back at Don. Below Charlie's picture was another number sequence, followed by two words.
65:33:14
Tick tock.
"Oh, and Agent Eppes, don't bother tracing this email or this call," the man continued. "I'm using a scrambler and I'm bouncing signals off of phones all over the world. You'll never find me."
Don looked up at Terry, seeing her shut her phone and shake her head.
"Fine," Don said tersely. "Tell me where and who I need to bring."
Terry watched as Don's expression revealed shock, then barely concealed anger. Her partner hung up his phone and stared at the image of his brother before scrambling through his belongings.
"Don, what did he say?" she demanded.
Don paused and looked up at her. The anger flashed deep in his eyes, surprising her. She had never, in all the years she had known Don, ever seen him so consumed with fury.
"I'm to deliver a convict to New York City and trade him for Charlie," he replied. "If I don't, Charlie dies."
"Who?" Terry demanded.
"It looks like David was closer than any of us thought. Sam Carroway's behind this after all."