Chapter 13
Megan and David leaned over her desk, both looking in horror at the front page of the newspaper.
As they read they could hear Colby. He stood at his own desk, clutching a fax and shouting into the phone. "I want to know how this got leaked to the press before we even knew about it! What about interdepartmental cooperation? You received the alert just like every other office! How can we do our jobs with this kind of shit going on!"
Megan sank into her chair and spoke, not looking at David. "I have to to back to the house. I have to tell Larry and Alan this. Dear God, it's going to destroy what small amount of equilibrium they've been able to hang onto…" She was interrupted by her cell phone. She unclipped it from her waist, checked caller ID and looked briefly at David. "It's Larry. I hope he didn't start cruising the internet and find out about this himself…" She flipped the phone open. "Agent Reeves."
Megan stood and walked to the front of the desk. She listened for a moment, then tried to speak soothingly. "Larry, Larry, please. Calm down. I can't understand what you're saying." Then she looked at David again, and he watched her eyes get wide. "You and Alan did what? Why?" David saw the color drain from her face and she repeated herself, her voice raising an octave and enough decibels that even Colby looked at her. "YOU AND ALAN DID WHAT?"
She suddenly flipped the cell shut, spinned and took off in a dead run for the elevator. She just barely got the phone back on her belt in time to start slamming a hand into the "down" button. While she waited for the lift, she turned to call David and Colby, but found she didn't have to
They were already standing behind her.
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Charlie didn't care about the pain. In fact, he welcomed the pain. He deserved the pain. He had gotten Amita killed, Don shot, put targets on his father and Larry.
He didn't cry out as he used both arms to push himself into a sitting position on the mattress. Then he used both hands to lift his injured leg, while he used the other foot to pivot his body a little so that he was facing the room at large, facing the computer, the water…the newspaper clipping, Amita's smiling face staring up at him…
He let go of his injured leg and let it drop a foot to the mattress, not even cringing as it hit.
He knew what he had to do, and he looked around for a way to do it.
He looked at his feet. He was barefoot. They had taken his tennis shoes, so there were no shoelaces. That wouldn't work.
His eyes traveled to the computer. Could a person electrocute themselves somehow with the components of a wireless laptop?
He took in the almost empty bottle of water. Was there enough left to pour into his broken nose and drown himself somehow?
If only Shotgun had left the sledge hammer…he would crack open his own head. If he could die, if he could just die, then Merrick would have no reason to kill anyone else he loved.
There had to be a way to die.
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Director Merrick smiled at the security detail outside Don's room. "I'll be with him for a while, Mike" he said, friendly. "Why don't you go to the cafeteria for some coffee? Take a break."
The young agent wasn't sure what made him happier — that Director Merrick actually knew his name, or that he could get out of this boring, empty hall for a few minutes, maybe chat up a few nurses in the cafeteria…
As if reading his mind, Merrick made a suggestion. "In fact, why not take that pretty little nurse in there with you. I understand she's been glued to Agent Eppes since he was brought in." Merrick pushed open the door and Cecile, who was sitting in a chair near the bed reading a paperback, looked up. Merrick introduced himself as Don's boss, the Director of the L.A. office. "You look like you could use a few minutes to decompress. Why don't you take a break? I'm very impressed with the reports I have been receiving of your dedication."
She didn't look inclined to leave, so he stepped it up a notch. "Agent Davis will escort you to the cafeteria for a while. I need to speak with Agent Eppes in private. About the case."
Cecile stood, but still hesitated. She looked at Don. "He's asleep, and he's due for traction again in less than half an hour."
Merrick drew himself up and took a step forward, to show that he was a man to be respected. "I'll be brief, nurse."
Cecile finally took one last look at Don and reluctantly left with Agent Davis.
Merrick walked to the bed and observed Don for a while, took in his suspended leg. He reached out and pushed the hammock, and the leg began to sway.
As Merrick had known it would, that woke Don up right away. He opened glassy eyes and looked to see if it was already time for someone to hook him up again, but he saw only his boss standing over him. Maybe he was having some weird morphine dream again. Merrick could be mistaken with a shark, couldn't he?
"Agent Eppes. Good to see you awake."
Don swallowed. "Director?"
Merrick smiled, crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Correct. I am not a dream. A nightmare, perhaps…" he tried to laugh, to put Don at ease, but it wasn't something he had much practice at. He cut right to the chase. He was on a time schedule, here. "Agent Eppes, I'd like to know what you remember, about your…injury."
Don swallowed again and tried to clear his hazy mind. "What?"
Merrick tried again. "Why did you go to Cal Sci? Did your brother call you with information on the data you gave him?"
Don closed his eyes and tried to think. Did Charlie call him? If he had gone to Cal Sci, he must have. He opened his eyes again and looked at Merrick in drugged confusion. "Maybe…"
This wasn't working. Merrick decided to try to use shock to cut through the muddle. He leaned casually over the rail, placing his face only inches from Don's. "Perhaps you remember shooting your brother."
Don's eyes grew wide, and Merrick straightened again. Now he almost couldn't stop himself from laughing.
"I…what?"
"A roof, Agent Eppes, do you remember being on the roof of the building in which your brother works? We found your service weapon there, and it had been discharged. The bullet was also located, covered with Charlie's DNA. Someone shot your brother with your weapon. Was it you?"
Charlie was shot? Is that why he and Dad couldn't be here? This had to be another morphine dream. It had to. This could not be true. Don was still trying to make sense of it all when he the door opened again.
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Alan was in such a panic that he got the code wrong the first time he tried to let himself in the service entrance.
At least, he hoped he had. He hoped they hadn't changed it!
He forced himself to calm down, and enter it more slowly — and the door popped open.
Rushing down the corridor toward Don's suite of rooms, he soon saw that there was no agent working security at the door, as there should have been. He was terrified that he was too late.
He rushed through the door, and saw Director Merrick standing close — too close — to Don's bed. Don was looking up at him with frightened and confused eyes. Alan didn't think. He shifted to automatic pilot, and part of his memory he didn't realize was working reached behind him, and drew the gun from the waist of his jeans. He leveled it at Merrick. "Step away from my son."
Director Merrick turned toward the door, saw Alan with the gun, and actually laughed. "Who do you think you're kidding? You can't shoot me."
Don was sure now that he was dreaming. This was crazier than the shark attack. His dad was holding his boss at gunpoint? Some lines should never be crossed, even during a morphine haze. "Dad…" Don was slurring. "Not a good idea…"
Alan willed himself to stop shaking. He held Merrick's eyes with his own. "Would Don do it, Director? If our positions were reversed, and I was in that bed, and he was standing here, would he do it?" Merrick didn't answer right away, and Alan continued, his voice growing stronger with each word. "Because I've got news for you. Where do you think he got his cojones in the first place?" He took a step closer to Merrick, whose smile had faded. "Remember your Saturday morning cartoons? Think of me as a transformer. You threaten my boys — you harm them — and I become something you do not want to see. Step away from the bed."
Merrick couldn't believe he was being intimidated by a 70-year-old man who looked remarkably like a near-sighted teddy bear. He did step away from the bed a little, but only to threaten the idiot. "You kill me — you will never find Charlie."
Alan bluffed. Later, he was never sure where the inspiration had even come from. "He's in your boat storage facility, near the marina. Don's team is getting him right now."
He knew he had guessed correctly when Merrick blanched. "How did you…"
Merrick's question was interrupted by Don. "I want the sharks back."
Alan slid a round into the chamber, the click a resounding echo in the room. "Remember my reference to cojones, Director? Put yourself on the floor. Spread-eagle — right now — or I promise you, I will shoot yours off. I will kill you slowly, in pieces." The sound of his own voice, the truth of his words, frightened even Alan. "And I will enjoy it."
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The agents broke into a run when they saw that Davis was not posted outside Don's door, as he should have been. Megan was in the lead, and Colby and David scrambled to cover her as she crashed through the door to Don's room.
Once inside, she looked with shock upon the scene. Director Merrick was spread-eagle on the floor. Alan Eppes stood over him, a service weapon trained on the back of Merrick's head.
Don leered happily and proudly at her from the bed. "Megan, hey Megan! This is a great morphine ride, man. Look what my Dad did!"
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………A/N: You go, Alan! This scene is actually borrowed from life. Someday soon I will inherit the rifle my grandfather used almost 100 years ago to shoot a man's nuts off. Some people just should not be pissed off.