Chapter 5

It was already dark, but the FBI building still blazed with light. It had been several hours since Don had seen it, and the change was remarkable. All live victims had been removed, and some dead ones, but several bodies remained while CSI teams gathered evidence. There were more LAPD officers and detectives than agents Don recognized. That made sense. They were going to need back-up on this one.

The elevators, locked down during and immediately after the incident, were back in operation, and Don rode up to his office. When the doors opened, he saw that the room still bustled with activity. Taking one step, he allowed his voice to carry over to her desk. "Agent Reeves! Conference room."

Megan glanced at Colby, then got out of her chair and followed Don. He waited until she had closed the door behind them before he looked at her.

"Tell me," he said, his voice a low growl. "Tell me what the hell you were doing."

Megan didn't so much as flinch. "My job. And one description of that job is enabling my team leader to do his. You had a civilian, Don, you were administering first aid to a civilian. I knew Colby was with Charlie, I knew I was taking EMTs to Charlie…I sent Jimmy to relieve you as soon as I saw a free agent."

Don turned abruptly away, rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he walked to a window. Megan waited.

"Dammit," he finally said, turning back around. "I wish I could tell you that you'd done the wrong thing."

"How's Charlie?"

"They say he'll be okay, the GSW isn't life threatening, and they think they've reversed the hypo…hippo…some kind of shock."

"Hypovolemic," she nodded. "From blood loss. I was afraid of that, when I felt his face."

Don started walking back across the room. "Was he conscious?"

"Not for long after I got there. He was trying to recite some sort of equation. Colby said it was 'KE equals MV squared.' We looked it up. It has something to do with bullet velocity."

"Was that the temp tech, the woman?"

Megan nodded. "Colby said he had a hard time getting Charlie's attention away from her."

Don reached out to open the door. "Megan," he said, his hand on the knob, "you were a good agent, today. You kept your head. More than I did."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I want to be a good friend. Charlie will need to talk about this. If I can help…"

He smiled sadly, opened the door. "Thanks. That means a lot."

Colby and David were sneaking looks toward the conference room and were relieved to see both Don and Megan emerge more or less in one piece.

"Granger," barked Don, approaching his desk.

Colby groaned under his breath. "Great," he thought. "I'm next." He looked up at Don, started to stand but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

"Thank you," Don said. "You saved Charlie's life." Colby shrugged, at a loss for words, and Don sat on the corner of his desk. "Okay," he said, all business now. "Gather in. Tell me what the hell happened today."

David spoke first. "LAPD already cracked Melvin, in the mailroom. Weasel took some cash to unlock the emergency exit doors this morning on his rounds, that's how some of the shooters got in. The rest just blasted their way through the front."

"They were suicide shooters," Colby added. "Expected to go down in the fight. They wore the masks as part of the intimidation. CSI found cyanide tablets on them; if they weren't hit, they were going to take themselves out."

"Terrorist cell?"

"No one's claimed responsibility, yet," Megan offered. "It could be someone trying to make it look terrorist. Central Booking personnel is conducting an inventory to see if anything disappeared from the Evidence Lock-Up before the lock-down."

"We've got Melvin looking through the books," David continued, "to see if he can ID the guy who paid him."

Don frowned. "Must have been a hell of a lot of money."

Megan was looking at the floor. "Only $333.00," she said quietly. "Per victim. We had 30 people go down, not counting the shooters. We lost five civilians, six bureau personnel, 10 more of our guys were wounded, including Charlie. At least one of them is not expected to live out the night. Nine civilians were wounded. Two of them are critical. Little bastard did it for 10 Grand."

When she looked back up, Don was staring at her, eyes dark and swimming. "G-d," he whispered. "All those numbers. You sound like Charlie."

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