Six Steps to Purgatory
Rating: PG-13 (For naughty language) Be on the lookout for a possible change in rating soon.
Author's Notes: Just a little plot bunny who decided to gnaw at my ankle until I gave in.
Author's Warning: Just some dirty language that'll filter in and out, and a bit of violence towards our chaste little Charlie.
Disclaimer: If you tie someone up and hide them in your basement, eventually they'll turn over all of their human rights to you. I'm working on the brothers, but for now all character's belong to CBS and the creators.
And of course major thanks to my beta Zubeneschamali. Without whom, my work in the fandom of NUMB3RS wouldn't be half as good.
Chapter Five
Step Five: Aggression
The one real potential link to Charlie was taken to Saint Lucas', whereupon his arrival the man was raced into surgery. Don, his team, and Alan followed in the ambulance's wake.
Along with their police escort they pushed through maddening LA traffic with swift precision, hoping for even the smallest of a miracle.
During their wait in the hospital's designated room, Don, Terry and David huddled together over their few known facts while Alan busied himself with supplying the team with coffee. There was no reason for Alan to be present, Don stressed, but budging his father when the man dug his heels in had never been his forte. Charlie would have been able to persuade their father to return home and rest, Don knew that for sure. Instead Don kept the older man busy with cafeteria runs while he filtered through any incoming data from the crime scene.
It would be hours later when the doctor emerged from surgery looking spent and covered in blood.
"He held steady," The doctor told them, wiping his sweat covered brow. "Not by much, and he lost a lot of blood, but if all goes well in the next twenty four hours I'm fairly confident he'll make a slow but full recovery."
Don exhaled heavily, resting a comforting hand on his father's shoulder. He turned to Terry. "I want two police officers posted in front of this guy's room and I need another undercover. No one gets in or out without the proper identification."
When she took a few steps away to make her call, Don turned back to the doctor. "When can I speak with him?"
The doctor looked aghast. "Not for several days at least."
Don snapped, "I'm sorry doctor, but that just isn't going to work. He's the lead witness in an ongoing FBI investigation. He is also quite possibly the only man that knows the location of a kidnapped civilian FBI consultant. It is of the utmost importance that I speak with him as soon as possible."
"I'm not sure you understand," The doctor peered at Don's ID badge. "Agent Eppes. The man under my care is in critical condition at the moment. When he was admitted to me I was charged with the task of stemming the blood flow that threatened to take his life, and the removal of two bullets lodged in the upper chest cavity and another in his thigh. He's lucky to have survive the surgery and is heavily medicated. Even if we took him off the drugs currently sedating him it could be hours to days before he's lucid enough to answer your questions."
"Isn't there some sort of stimulant you could give him?" David asked. "Couldn't you wake him if necessary? It's very important we speak with him."
The doctor reviewed his charts. "I gather that much, Agent, but despite your faith in the medical community, we haven't produced any miracle drugs that wake people up after they've lost large amounts of blood." He retrieved a form and pulled a pen from his coat pocket. "This is a waver form, Agent Eppes. It states that the FBI had taken responsibility for the welfare of the man lying in the hospital bed just down the hall. By signing this form I agree to take him off the sedative and painkillers in hopes of him waking sooner than he would have before this action. Please read this form carefully, I'll be back in five minutes."
The middle-aged doctor handed the crisp form over to Don along with the pen and turned to leave.
"What is this all about?" Alan asked, accompanying Don to the room's chairs.
"Police will be here in ten," Terry told Don, who nodded in approval.
"I want you to head on over to the room now. Check things out and stay there until the police arrive."
Don's eyes skimmed the beginning of the form, then told his father, "It's a way for the hospital to cover their behinds. What I want them to do can be considered inhumane or at the very least detrimental to the patient's recovery process. If I sign this the FBI takes all responsibility for his health, meaning if the guy recovers he can't sue the hospital for mistreatment. Likewise if we cause his death in any way, his family can't sue the hospital and the presiding doctor cannot be brought up on criminal or malpractice charges."
"And you feel this is the best course of action?" Alan asked, uncomfortable with the thought of the man suffering, especially if he hadn't directly harmed Charlie in anyway. He might have been a criminal and had horrible intent, but to Alan he was just as much a victim as his youngest son.
David said, "It isn't the nicest thing to do, but being nice won't find Charlie. If this guy knows even the smallest detail it'll greatly increase the chances of recovering your son. Mr. Eppes, the longer Charlie is missing, the least likely it is we're going to find him alive. We have to act now."
"I'm calling Thompson now," Don said, pulling his phone out. "This is way over my head. I have to get clearance to sign."
David didn't want to think about what would happen if Garrett Thompson didn't give Don the authorization. At this point David wasn't quite sure Don would be so willing to follow a direct order. He hadn't know Don more than a year, but so far he had surmised through his time with the Agent that he placed his father and Charlie above his job. If Thompson told Don to leave the guy alone, chances were David would be helping Don conduct their own series of illegal activities. When it came to Charlie, Don would risk his job without a second thought.
Alan and David held their breaths during the phone call, but physically relaxed when Don signed his name neatly. It wasn't made clear if Don had the actual authorization to sign his name, but it had been done and they were all going to live with it.
The doctor returned to collect the form at the same time Terry did.
"Uniforms are in place and briefed," Terry informed them. "I know Ynes and Fallon. They're good men."
The doctor looked the forms over and studied Don's signature. "I must emphasize that this is a bad idea. If you push him too hard he could relapse."
Don nodded at the doctor.
Alan's shoulder bumped Don's just barely and they understood each other. This wasn't about getting Charlie back for the FBI, or rescuing Charlie because of his talents and importance. This was about Charlie who was a member of their family. This was about finding Charlie because he had been snatched right from under everyone's noses and he didn't deserve to be subjected to anything that even resembled aggression or violence. They wanted Charlie back because he didn't belong with his kidnappers.
"We'll attempt to rid the patient's bloodstream of the sedative but it could take some time. When he does come to he'll probably be confused at first and it's very important you don't pressure him. Let his memory return to him without pushing and you'll probably get a lot more from him."
Don shook the doctor's hand and they parted company.
"David," Don said, beckoning the agent over. "I want you to take my dad home."
"Now wait one moment!" Alan interrupted, surging forward.
Ignoring his father's actions Don said, "Make sure your check everything out, just to be sure."
"I'm not going home, " Alan argued. "Not if this man has any indication of where your brother is. I'm not leaving until I know where Charlie is."
Don held his father at his shoulders. "Dad, we don't even know if this guy is going to give us anything. You're just wearing yourself down by staying here. Go home and rest. I promise to call as soon as I know anything, okay? Dad, trust me to take care of things. Trust me to find Charlie."
Alan was hesitant when he said, "You'll call?" Don nodded. "Even for the smallest thing?" Don nodded again. "You promise?"
"Yes, dad, I will call."
Alan hugged his son close, holding on as tightly as he could manage. "Take care of yourself, Don. Find Charlie and bring him home to me."
Don entrusted his father's well-being to David and watched them leave.
Behind him Terry said, "Your father will be fine, Don. Right now we need to concentrate on this guy and Charlie."
Don snapped into action. "Right. Let's figure out who this guy is."
Terry smiled. "That's a good start."
Don was warmed by her smile and returned it.
(NUMB3RS)
Charlie's eyes danced over the numbers in front of him, his mind whirling in equations. His fingers shook as he placed pieces of paper together with pictures and then grouped them in various ways. He ran multiple scenarios in his mind according to information given in front of him, mentally deducing the one factor Jerry wanted from him.
Across the room at the chair sat Hank, feet propped up, head tilted back. He was snoring loudly. Charlie was surprised he wasn't picking his teeth with his knife.
His attention turned back to the data presented. In LA alone for the next week there were three different armored trucks expected to arrive in nearby locations with loads of money in the hundred thousands. Along with that Charlie's eyes scanned over the sheet of paper that told him Hendricks's Jewelers was receiving a new batch of jewels and their security system was being upgraded the very day before, but would be down during the installation. Then there was The Parthenon which specialized in ancient works of art that were available to private buyers; building next door was being renovated. And of course there was the art show that showcased Rudolf II Habsburg's collection which was being brought over from Prague.
Hank snored louder and jerked a bit in his chair, bringing Charlie's attention over to him. He peered suspiciously at the man and climbed from his seat on the bed. He stood silently on the carpet, relieved to be free from the handcuffs. However he doubted Hank was supposed to be sleeping in room.
With a surge of courage Charlie tiptoed over to the bedroom door, confident in the snores behind him. A quick look out the door told him there wasn't any way he was getting out of the room. Lee was perched down the hall, his back turned to the room, guarding the stairs that led down to the first floor. He closed the door silently and turned to rest his back against it.
He glanced about the room as if seeing the contents for the first time--as if escape was truly on his mind for the first time. And escape had just jumped priority wise as he realized he probably wouldn't get a chance at escape in the future. Hank would never fall asleep in the room again and he'd certainly never be left alone.
The room was small and if he couldn't make it out the door, the window was his only other option. Of course the window also posed a large problem. The large oak desk in the room was situated right in front of the window, and that of course meant Hank was in his way. Charlie had no doubt that no matter how much of a deep sleep the man seemed to be in, if he attempted to climb up the desk and over it, he'd find out just how real Hank's threats were.
Charlie detested violence, but even more he detested being held prisoner by threats of pain and death.
That thought alone prompted him to retrieve the heavy bedside lamp and cradle it in his hands. He trekked the small distance over to Hank and paused. Then, with a gust of wind he brought the lamp up, and then with force smashed it down on Hank's head, ensuring the man wouldn't pose an immediate problem.
With a hop he launched himself up on the desk. He was well aware he had mere seconds to successfully escape before the loud sound of the lamp colliding with Hank's head had Jerry or any of the other men rushing into the room.
He kicked the window screen out, hearing it clatter onto the cement two stories down. Then it was a matter of reassuring himself he could survive the fall. He could hear Jerry calling Hank's name, which prompted him to the decision that taking a chance on the fall rather than remaining in the room was his best bet. A quick look below him showed that he'd drop onto the small, cement pathway on the side of the house. A little further up the path was a high wooden gate that led to the street and ultimately his freedom if he could flag someone down.
The bedroom door burst open and he jumped to avoid Jerry's reaching hand.
He landed hard, his legs giving out from under him. His hands came out to break his fall and he felt a pulse of pain in his wrist. On any other occasion the possibility of a sprained and bruised wrist would have been enough to stop Charlie, but Jerry was already screaming at him and at the other criminals, so he picked himself up and sprinted towards the gate as fast as his quaking legs could take him.
The gate had looked high from the window, but from the ground and with an injured wrist it was impossibly high. He wasn't going to be able to jump it. Don might have stood a chance at getting over, but Charlie knew he wasn't nearly as athletic as his older brother.
At the sound of voices behind him he spun around, right into the barrel of a gun. He was caught and gone were his chances of escape.