Disclaimer and beta thanks in Part 1.

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Chapter 6
Thursday, November 17, 2005
10:15 P.M.
Eppes house

Alan leaned back in the dining room chair and rubbed his temples. The numbers in front of him were starting to swim before his eyes. He checked his watch. 'Well, no wonder,' he thought. He idly wondered where Charlie was, then reminded himself for the umpteenth time that his son was a grown man who could take care of himself. He knew it was hard for any parent to let their child go; it had certainly been hard with Don. But since he and Margaret had to watch over Charlie because of his youth and small size, it was even harder to let go of the habit.

Just then, he heard a key in the lock, and the man in question walked in. "Hey, Dad," he said as he slung his backpack off his shoulder and shut the door behind him.

"Late night with the chalkboard, huh?"

He was rewarded with a tired smile. "Something like that. I've been working through this theorem on back-propagated delta rule networks and trying to relate it to the Gaussian functions that most closely replicate certain behaviors in the brain. Unfortunately, at some point my own neural networks got a bit overloaded, I think." He dropped into the chair opposite Alan and rubbed his eyes, looking for a moment like the little boy Alan had been thinking about, despite the scientific terminology he had been spouting.

"At least you know when to quit for the night. I seem to have forgotten how to do that." He gestured at the pile of papers in front of him. "Although I think if I concentrate hard enough, I can hear my brain powering down for the night."

Charlie smiled. "What're you working on?" he asked as he leaned forward and tried to read the papers upside down. "Is this for that same job?"

"Yes, it is. Since you didn't have any more luck than I did getting the information, though I am grateful to you for trying, I figured I'm going to have to do what you do all the time: re-derive it."

Charlie's eyebrows lifted. "But you don't have the hydrological data, do you?"

"Aha!" Alan held up a finger. "I thought so, too. But then I remembered after talking to Ron that I had a whole pile of the stuff. See, years ago, before your Dr. Anderson came to town, we had to do a lot of this kind of work ourselves. We went out and made all kinds of measurements, ran a few tests with injecting dye into the groundwater system at various places, and worked with Pasadena Water and Power to come up with the results. It was before there were ever any problems discovered up at JPL. We wanted to have a baseline in case we ever did need to compare data, and a few years later, as it turned out, we did."

His son's expression was still slightly skeptical. "But surely all that data would be just as inaccessible as the more recent results."

"If it were in some dusty filing cabinet at City Hall, yes. But when the city went to its GIS system a few years ago, they input the data into the computer, backed it up on CD, and got rid of the paper. At least, they were going to get rid of the paper until I suggested we store it offsite as another backup. They couldn't find any room at City Hall, so I just lugged it all home. No one thought of it when I retired, including me. I'd forgotten all about it until just this week. It's been sitting up in the attic all this time."

"The attic, huh?" Charlie's voice was cautious. "So you went back up there?"

"Yes, and you should be glad." He nodded at the eight banker's boxes piled against the dining room wall. "I found a lot of stuff that should be at my office, now that I have an office again, and out of your way."

Charlie nodded, and dropped his eyes to the table. "Dad, about the attic..."

Alan let out a sigh, knowing what he was going to say and hoping to head it off. "Charlie, it's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is." He looked up suddenly, and the emotion that was visible in his eyes reminded Alan so much of his late wife that he briefly had to look away. "Dad, I want to apologize. I didn't think about, well, about how hard it might be to go through some of that stuff. I feel like I forced you to do something you weren't ready for, and I'm sorry."

"I thought I was ready," he replied quietly. When Charlie looked at him, he went on, "I mean, it's been two years. I hadn't looked at a lot of that stuff since your mother died, and I thought I would be okay with it." He'd had quite the mental debate with himself after Charlie suggested cleaning out the attic, torn between wanting to move on with their lives, especially since his sons seemed okay with it, and worrying that some small thing was going to set him off. It turned out that the latter had won out. "It was just...you see, a week or so before she died, your mother asked me to sit down with her and look at our wedding pictures." He paused and took a deep breath.

"Dad, you don't have to..." Charlie reached across and put a hand on his forearm.

He shook his head briefly and said, "It's okay. We, um, we reminisced a bit, and that was when she made me promise that I would try to meet someone else. It took a while for her to talk me into it, but eventually I agreed, more to make her happy than because I really meant it." He stared off into the distance for a moment, knowing that he remembered that conversation word-for-word, an ability he didn't usually have. At the time, he had thought they still had more time. But Margaret had known somehow, and had extracted his promise while she still could. Ten days later, she was gone.

"Anyway," he went on, "I hadn't really thought of that since. Not what she said to me that day, because I've thought about that a lot," he hastened to say, casting a quick glance at his son, who was looking slightly uncomfortable. "I've thought about it a lot," he repeated, "and it's still a huge effort for me to date someone. I know that if your mother hadn't given me the kick in the pants that she did, I wouldn't be doing it."

"Dad, really, it's okay." Charlie looked down at the table. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"No, it's all right, Charlie. I mean, yes, it threw me the other day when I came across those old pictures, but that's going to happen from time to time. Sometimes things come up to the surface when you don't expect it, that's all. Like last week, when I was looking out the window and saw the maple tree across the street starting to turn color. It made me think of your mother and how she always said she missed the East this time of the year. I always suspected that was one of her main reasons for going along to Princeton with you, so she could see the fall colors again."

"Dad." Charlie raised his head and took a shaky breath. "I'm glad that you're okay talking about it. But maybe I don't want to hear it."

He stared for a moment. He had assumed that because Charlie had been the one to suggest cleaning out the attic, he had thought through the ramifications of sorting through the mementos stored up there, and he was okay with it. In fact, he remembered being the only one of the three of them visibly upset while they were up there the other day.

Then the words he had just said came back to him. Sometimes things came up to the surface when you didn't expect it.

He was opening his mouth to apologize when the doorknob suddenly rattled. They looked at each other, startled. Then a key rasped in the lock, and a moment later, Don stuck his head inside. When he saw them sitting at the table, he looked surprised. "You're still up?"

Alan returned his look, grateful for the relief from the tension in the room. "Were you hoping to sneak some food out of the fridge and leave with no one the wiser?"

Don rolled his eyes as he came inside and closed the door behind him. "No, I was hoping to get the equations that Charlie owed me and then head home for the night."

"Equations?" Charlie quickly turned around in his chair. Alan could tell that he, too, was glad for the interruption. "What equations?"

"Don't you remember?" Don's eyes were boring into Charlie's, but when he briefly looked Alan's way with a guarded expression, Alan figured out what was going on.

"I think I forgot to put away some of the leftovers from dinner," he said, rising to his feet. "You boys can go ahead and talk."

"Dad, it's okay." Charlie waved him back down. "Don, I'm sorry, but I didn't have a chance to get to that today. It's on my agenda for first thing tomorrow, I promise."

"That's fine." Don dropped into the third chair at the table. "I was going to take them if you had them, but if you don't, then take your time."

Alan knew his expression must be mirroring Charlie's puzzled features. Don rarely told his brother to take his time on a case, and if it was something sensitive enough that they couldn't tell their father about it, it was even more likely to be urgent.

"Did something happen on the case?" Charlie asked.

Alan watched as Don looked over at him, and then gave a short nod. "Yeah. We caught the guys."

"Your no-fly-list guys?" Alan asked. When Don gave him a strange look, he said, "You two were talking a little loudly the other night. Don't worry, I don't pass on what I overhear."

"I know that, Dad." Don shook his head exasperatedly, probably at himself for being indiscreet rather than at Alan for overhearing. "Yeah, we found them. We had a tail on one of their suspected potential contacts, and they showed up this afternoon. The contact got away, but our two guys didn't. We're letting them stew overnight before we start in on them tomorrow."

"Do you think they were planning to do something here?" Charlie asked quietly.

"That's what we have to find out. I've got David and Colby going over the phone records of their contact to see who he's been in touch with over the past week. Maybe there's something there. It's hard to tell, though." Don leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers behind his head. "They were only on the no-fly list because of their associations, not because they've actually done anything wrong yet."

"But if they got into the country with fake passports, surely they weren't here on vacation." Alan had overheard that detail too, and it was right about then that he told himself it was none of his business and he should go to another room of the house where he couldn't overhear the conversation between his sons.

Don gave him a quick look, but said only, "Yeah, there's that. Still, all the information we have says they were only in the early planning stages. Of what, we don't know, but the odds are they weren't here to implement any kind of plan, at least not any time soon."

"So you don't need those equations if you've caught them, right?"

"Well, I thought the point was to, what did you call it, draw a net around them. So, yeah, we'd still like to know who else we might catch with that net. But with these two in custody, it isn't quite as urgent."

Charlie nodded, and then Don turned and looked at him as if he had just remembered something. "Dad, have you actually met these clients of yours?"

He shook his head. "I haven't talked to them at all, and Stan has only talked to them by phone. Why? Did you find out something?"

"No, not really. They're on the up-and-up, as far as we can tell. Pretty small group, though: only five members. Must be some rich guys behind it if they can afford to hire you."

"I already had this conversation with your brother," he replied somewhat grumpily. "We aren't carrying out extortion here, we're running a business."

"I know that," Don answered with a smile. "Just teasing you. How's it going, by the way?"

"Well, that's what I'm working on here." He indicated the piles of papers spread out before him. "I'm thinking I might have to give it up and hire Charlie on as a subcontractor."

"Dad, you don't have to do that," Charlie protested. "I'm not going to charge you to run some equations."

"So how come you don't work for me for free?" Don leaned his elbows on the table. "I'm family too, you know."

"You're not a small business owner trying to get up and running," Alan retorted. "We need all the help we can get."

"Oh, so that's how it is." Don's face creased into a smile. "It's probably better that way. At the rates he charges..." he tilted his head towards his brother.

"Hey, I charge the FBI the going rate for consultants of my caliber, and I've never heard any complaints about it." Charlie was glaring back at his brother. "If you don't think I'm worth it, you can hire someone else."

"Whoa, take it easy. Charlie, you're the best we could hire, and don't you forget it." Alan watched the quick changes of expression across both of his son's faces: Don from teasing to concerned, and Charlie from wounded to reassured. Then they exchanged quick smiles, and Don turned back to him. "So yeah, I ran a quick check on your River Protectors, and they seem to be legit. At least, they're a registered non-profit organization with the state of California, and they've been around for about a year, headquartered in Glendale. Probably run out of somebody's house or something."

Alan regarded his son with amused tolerance. "So should I present my client list to you on a regular basis, or are you going to want to do a background check before I hire them in the first place?"

"Come on, it's not like that." Don waved a hand at him. "I thought it was an unusual name, that's all. I'm not going to interfere with your business unless I see something that catches my eye."

"Well, I appreciate you not making a big deal out of it." Alan was going to say something more, but then he saw a curious expression on his younger son's face. "Charlie? What is it?"

He was accustomed to Charlie intently staring off into space as if there were numbers and figures written on a blackboard that only he could see. But this was different, the kind of light-bulb-coming-on look that anyone got from time to time. "It's something that caught my eye," he said slowly as he turned to Don. "Or rather, my ear. I can't believe I forgot about it, since I walked out of Dr. Anderson's office thinking about calling you right away. But then I ran into one of my graduate students on the way back to my office, and it totally slipped my mind."

"Charlie, what are you talking about?"

He shook his head slightly. "It's probably nothing. But when I talked to Dr. Anderson last week to see if he'd give me the report that Dad wanted, he said two men were there earlier looking for it, too. He made some kind of joking comment about the likelihood of them being terrorists, and that's why it struck me. I'm sorry that I didn't remember it earlier, Don."

Don had removed a small notebook from his pocket and was jotting down what Charlie said. "So who is this guy?"

Alan broke in to explain who the CalSci hydrologist was and his connection to Alan's project. Don asked both of them a few more questions, then leaned back in his chair. "Looks like you're not out of the woods yet, Dad," he said in what was to Alan a surprisingly serious tone. "I'll stop by CalSci tomorrow and ask Dr. Anderson a few more questions. You haven't talked to these River Protectors of yours directly, have you?"

Alan shook his head. "But Don, why would they go to this hydrologist directly if they've hired me to find the same information?"

"I don't think they have." Don regarded him seriously as he stood up and stuffed the memo pad back in his jacket pocket. "I think there might be somebody else out there looking for the same information. You be careful with this project of yours, okay?"

He waved a dismissive hand at Don. "Anyone says anything about dropping something into the water supply, I'll let you know. Okay?"

Don opened his mouth, then stopped. "Okay, Dad. It's late and maybe I'm being overcautious. Just let me know if anything strange happens."

Alan nodded his assent. Then Charlie rose to walk Don to the door and discuss the equations he was supposed to have produced, and Alan started neatly stacking his papers on one side of the table. He'd been looking forward to getting this business off the ground for several months now, and he wasn't too keen on having any remotely shady dealings attached to it. He'd have to look over the work he was doing in the morning, when his head was clearer, and try to figure out if there was any illegitimate reason for it to be done.

Besides, he thought, if someone were going to try to poison the water supply, why would they hire someone to figure out how to do it for them? Wasn't that kind of risky? He looked up to ask Don that question, but the front door was closed. A moment later, he heard the roar of Don's SUV starting up, and he sighed. He'd have to ask him later.

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