"So what you're telling me," Don said into the phone, confusion written on his face, "Is that there's no way of determining where it came from?" He listened for a moment before replying. "All right. I understand. Thanks." Replacing the receiver, he sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his eyes.
David stood nearby. "That was the lab?" he asked.
"Yeah." Don pulled out his chair and sat down. "The explosive used on Colby's car was – as near as they can figure – nitrourea."
David sighed. "No way to trace it, then."
"Anyone can get a hold of the stuff to make it," Don said, his voice rising. Ticking off his fingers, he said, "Fertilizer, acetone… what… sulphuric acid and distilled water…" He looked at the other agent helplessly. "Anyone, David."
Agent Sinclair nodded. "I don't suppose there was enough of it used that we could look for bulk buys?" he asked.
"How are you going to track down the sale of cheap fertilizer in Los Angeles?" Don shook his head. "There better be something on that surveillance tape from the garage."
"There isn't." Megan came to a stop next to Don's desk, folder in hand. "The security cameras from the parking garage get the stairwell door, but the pillar Colby was talking about is out of the shot."
Don had picked up a pen while she was talking. At these words, he threw it down in frustration. "So basically, we have to wait for this guy to do something else before we can move?" Megan nodded. Don stood abruptly and grabbed his jacket.
David asked. "Where are you going?"
"To ask Charlie if he can see a way through this mess." Don took the folder from Megan's hand. "Where's the tape?"
"In the A/V lab," she replied. "Don…"
Don stopped mid-stride and turned, waiting.
"Do you really think your brother can help on this?" she asked.
Shrugging, he answered, "Can't hurt – and we've got nothing to go on."
-x-x-x-x-x-
"Don," Alan called from the kitchen. "Is that you?" He pushed through the door, fruit bowl in hand, and almost collided with his eldest son. "Whoa! Watch it, Don!" He moved to the table and set the dish down. Turning, he saw Don poke his head into the kitchen briefly. "I just about dropped… what are you looking for?"
"Where's Charlie?"
"He's upstairs, getting dressed," Alan answered. "What's going on?"
"Getting dressed?" Don asked. "Is he going out?"
Alan tried and failed to hide his disappointment. "You're working?"
Don studied his father. "Yeah, I'm working. Why…?" He slapped his forehead as realization hit him. "It's Monday!"
"Of course it's Monday," Charlie said as he came down the stairs, straightening his tie. He had opted for 'dressy casual' and was wearing a sport jacket with jeans. "What day did you think it was?" Taking in his brother's agitated state, he said, "You forgot about dinner, didn't you?"
Don ran his hands over his face. "Okay, okay. I'm a terrible son… brother… whatever. I'm sorry." Turning to Charlie, he pleaded, "I really need your help."
Charlie stood even straighter. "Not tonight, Don. I'm sorry, but this is important."
"Charlie," Don threw up his hands helplessly. "This is important too!"
"No," Charlie shook his head. "Not this time, Don. Not now. Talk to me about it after dinner."
"Charlie," Alan began. "Maybe you should…"
He interrupted. "No, Dad. I meant it – this is just as important as whatever catastrophe Don's got brewing now."
Don seized the glass bowl with both hands and flung it. It whizzed past Charlie's ear and smashed spectacularly against the newel post. Charlie and Alan looked at Don in shock.
Pointing a trembling finger at his brother, Don said in a threatening voice, "Don't you ever ask to help with an FBI investigation again. You are going on record as refusing consultation with the bureau, and you can just kiss your federal fees goodbye." Turning to Alan, he said, "Dad, I apologise about the dinner – for your sake. I can't go. I don't know when I'll be able to." He pushed past Charlie to the front door.
"Don, I…" Charlie began.
Don rounded on him. "You've already stated your position, Professor Eppes," he snarled. "Without even bothering to find out what you were needed for." He waved a hand at him in disgust. "Don't let me keep you." Don yanked the door open.
"Don!" Alan commanded. "That is more than enough! You can't just come in here and order people around! Demanding they drop what they're doing to help you out on one of your cases!" Don paused in the doorway. "And breaking dishes! What the hell's gotten into you?"
Don shook his head, a humorless grin on his face. Softly he replied, "I'm sorry, Dad. I can't explain."
"You damn well better explain!" Alan looked from Don to Charlie and back. Gesturing to the bits of crystal on the floor, he added, "And who's supposed to clean up that mess, me?"
Don looked at the shards, and then at his father. "Sorry – I would," he glanced at his brother. "But to tell you the truth, I don't think I have time." He stepped outside and closed the door.
Alan and Charlie exchanged puzzled looks. Lifting his shoulders slightly, Charlie said, "I have no idea."
Alan glanced at the front door and shook his head. "I'll go get the dustpan." He headed for the kitchen. Charlie turned to follow.
Suddenly a tremendous explosion threw them both to the floor. The windows in the front door and the living room shattered, and the darkness outside was lit up like midday. Fragments of wood and glass rained around the two Eppes men, and they both covered their heads with their arms for protection.
In the ensuing silence, car alarms and barking dogs could be heard. Charlie lifted his head and called, "Dad? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Alan coughed. "Yeah, Charlie, I'm alright." He struggled to his feet and then helped Charlie up as well. "What happened?" he asked.
Charlie brushed off his sleeves. "I don't know." He froze, staring at his father. "Don!" he whispered.
Both men raced for the splintered door hanging crazily on its hinges. Charlie pulled it all the way open, ignoring the slivers he got.
Skidding to a halt on the steps, Charlie stared in horror at the inferno in the driveway that was once his brother's SUV.
"Oh my God!" Alan cried. "Donnie!" He grabbed Charlie's shoulder. "Use your phone! Call nine one one!"
Charlie shook his head. He could hear sirens getting closer. "Someone already did," he replied dazedly.