Disclaimer: Much the same as previous one, with a piece of advice for anyone who tries the virtual kidnap thing: keep your eye on Agent Eppes. If he says he needs to go to the washroom, tell him to wait. He's sneaky.
Chapter 2:
"David, what have you got?" Don asked as he strode over to where the other man was working. He reached him just as the handsome agent hung up the phone.
"Your case files are pretty extensive, Don," he began by way of apology. "It's going to take some time for Records to get them all together."
Don heaved an exasperated sigh. "I know. This is taking too long. This guy could phone any minute."
David stood and the two men made their way to the techs' station. "I called Megan and Colby – they're on their way back."
Don simply nodded and folded himself into a nearby chair. David looked at him with some concern. After a moment, Don leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You know," he mused. "We could be using that filter thing Charlie talked about on that judge's case. What was it called?"
"A Bayesian filter," David supplied.
Don let his foot drop to the floor and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. "Yeah, that." He paused. "It might help narrow down the list of suspects – when we get them."
Just then, a persistent ringing filled the air. Don stood abruptly as the technician, Craig, nodded at him. Both agents stepped closer to the cell phone standing in its base on the desk, and Don gave Craig the signal to answer.
"Eppes," he announced cautiously.
"Special Agent Don Eppes," came a low voice over the loudspeaker. "Do you know who this is?"
Don glanced at David, hoping to see a glimmer of recognition. David merely shrugged. "No, I'm sorry," he replied. "I don't remember you."
"That's pretty typical." The comment was preceded by a short bark of humorless laughter. "You feds mess around with people's lives all the time without a thought to what the consequences might be. Well, I'm going to show you."
"Show me? What are you talking about?" Don asked. He looked up from the phone to see Megan and Colby striding through the doorway. Motioning them over, he put a finger to his lips for quiet.
"You, Agent Eppes, are particularly single-minded when it comes to the people you encounter," the man continued heatedly. "You go blundering around, thinking you're some kind of hotshot…" Here he broke off, seemingly to regain his composure. "But I digress. You wanted to know what I was talking about?"
"Yeah," Don said, watching his fellow agents to gauge their reactions. David was concentrating, apparently trying to place the caller's voice. Colby had moved around the desk and was examining Craig's computer screen, where the tech was attempting to trace the call. Megan had seated herself in Don's abandoned chair, listening intently.
"I am talking about peace of mind, Agent Eppes," the caller stated coldly. "Gaining peace of mind for me, losing it for you."
"Explain yourself!" Don exploded, slamming his hand on the desktop. Everyone jumped and David put a restraining hand on his boss' shoulder. Harsh laughter filled the room.
"Temper, temper! Don't go losing your professional detachment just yet, Eppes. We're only just getting acquainted." The voice on the other end paused. "Perhaps we can talk more when you've calmed down. I suggest you have yourself a nice hot cup of herbal tea and spend a few minutes with some prayer beads. Might do you good."
"What…" Don began. The speaker hummed loudly as the call was disconnected. He looked at the tech questioningly, who shook his head and pulled off his headphones.
"Sorry, Don," Craig said apologetically. "He was using some kind of digital scrambler. There's no way I could triangulate the call."
Don nodded grimly and turned to his team. "Any ideas? Megan?"
She shook her head. "From what I caught, this guy is pretty cocky, highly intelligent and very dangerous. I'll need to listen to the recording to pick up the parts I missed."
"Okay," Don said, looking at David. "What do you think?"
"I couldn't place the voice, although he may have had a southern accent." He, too, shook his head. "Sounded almost like he tried to get rid of it, but it's still there."
"What did he mean by 'herbal tea' and 'prayer beads'?" Colby spoke up suddenly. "It didn't make sense to me."
Don's eyes drifted from Colby's puzzled expression to the office in general, considering. Almost of its own volition, his gaze snapped to the blue mug sitting on the corner of his desk. He felt an icy sensation settle in the pit of his stomach. "Charlie," he whispered soundlessly.
David, following his stare, asked, "What is it? Have you thought of something?" He was startled by the expression on Don's face as the senior agent turned slowly to look at him.
"Charlie," he said, more loudly this time. "He told me his tea tasted strange. Just before he left with you." Suddenly galvanized into action, Don practically sprinted around the tech station and grabbed the vessel from his desk. "Colby! Get the dregs of this analysed right away!" Colby took the cup and disappeared through the doorway. Don turned to the other two FBI agents and barked commands. "David, get those case files up here and start going through them. We have to figure out who this psycho is. Megan." She stood and waited for his next order. "You come with me." He reached down and grabbed his rumpled jacket from the seat of the chair. Rushing back to Craig's desk, he snatched up his cell phone and practically raced out of the room.
"Where are we going?" She asked, hurrying to catch up. They both headed for the elevators. Don jabbed the 'down' button several times before answering. Flipping open his cell phone, he began dialling rapidly. "Charlie's. I think that sicko might have put something in the tea." He muttered impatiently as he waited for his brother to pick up.
"Hello?" It wasn't Charlie's voice on the other end.
"Dad?" Don asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing answering Charlie's phone?"
"He put it on to charge before he went to bed, why?" the older Eppes inquired.
"Is he still awake, do you know?" The elevator doors finally slid open, and the two agents stepped inside. Megan pushed the button for the parking garage.
Alan snorted in disgust. "I certainly hope not. He's got classes in the morning."
Don glanced at his watch, surprised at the late hour. "Listen, Dad, I don't want to tick you off or anything, but I need to talk to Charlie right away."
There was a pause on the other end, then Alan sighed, "Okay, Don. Hang on." Don heard the unmistakeable sound of the phone being set on the countertop. He quickly took the phone away from his ear and extended the antenna. FBI cell phones got good reception, due the top-of-the-line technology they required, but they were still no match for an elevator. Putting the unit back to his ear, he strained to listen for sounds of his father returning, hopefully with a sleepy math genius in tow.
The elevator doors opened, and Don and Megan quickly rushed to the regulation SUV parked nearby. They had just climbed in and pulled on their seatbelts when Don heard someone coming back to the phone.
"Don?"
"I'm here, Dad," Don replied with a sense of foreboding.
"Charlie's sound asleep. I couldn't wake him up." Alan hesitated and then asked, "Is it really important? I could try again, but I'd rather not. I think he's coming down with 'flu or something."
Don turned the key and the engine roared to life. "What makes you say that, Dad?"
"Well, he seems to have a bit of a fever," the older man explained.
"Dad," Don said, shifting the transmission into drive. "I'm coming over. Now. I'll be there in twenty minutes." He snapped his phone shut and tossed it on the seat. The big truck leaped forward and it gained the parkade's exit quickly. As they reached the ramp to the ground-level streets, Don took the turn on two wheels. Megan didn't say a word about his erratic driving, gripping the handle by her head firmly and bracing her feet on the floorboards.
Once out in the open air, Don reached down and flipped on the emergency lights and siren. Noticing the comparative emptiness of the street, Don muttered to himself, "Make that ten."