Chapter Six: Clouded Perceptions
Megan knew something had gone horribly wrong. When she walked into the office early on Monday, Don sat sulking at his desk already buried deep in the paperwork from their follow up investigation of the arrested suspects from last weeks drug bust. She couldn't help but notice the dark bruise along the left side of his jaw and the ragged crack that ran down the side of his swollen bottom lip. He kept his face void of any expression in an effort not to aggravate the injury and hardly acknowledged the perplexed members of his team.
That afternoon, the FBI, DEA and LAPD teams who had participated in the bust had been asked to attend a private ceremony to receive a commendation from the City of Los Angeles for their contribution to the war on drugs. When names were called a certain CalSci professor was not present to accept his honor. He was noted as having been injured during the raid and his absence was easily by-passed.
As the ceremony reached its conclusion, Richard Wells, the Director of the DEA was making a few final remarks.
"Thanks to the hard work and rather unorthodox mathematical approach of our local FBI, we have gained insight into the war on drugs that we could never have hoped to obtain with conventional means of investigation. And thanks to those extraordinary efforts we were able to remove almost ten tons of illegal drugs from the streets of Los Angeles."
As Wells spoke Colby leaned over Megan and whispered to Don, "Speaking of our unorthodox mathematical genius, where is Charlie?"
They didn't expect his callous answer.
"Honestly Colby, I really don't care, ok?"
Megan watched Don play nice at the short reception that had followed the ceremony. He accepted the congratulations and the occasional pat to the back with quiet nods, but he didn't speak and he never once flashed that trademark smile that she had grown accustomed to. Others associated Don's facial injury, and therefore his lack of verbalization, as a result of an aggressive suspect and no one gave his cracked lip and withdrawn expression more than a second glace….except for those who knew him best.
Yes, something had gone very wrong.
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The receptionist answered her phone.
"Federal Bureau of Investigation, Los Angeles?"
A distinctive male voice with an oppressive air of authority answered.
"I'm trying to reach Special Agent Don Eppes, please."
She had just seen Don walk out the door.
"He's out of the office, is there something I can help you with?"
The voice on the line answered quaintly.
"No, I simply must speak with Special Agent Don Eppes as soon as possible. Would you happen to know when he will be returning? He will want to speak with me."
The man spoke with a light accent that she couldn't place, but his English grammar and sharp pronunciation was better than most native Californians she knew.
"I can send you to his voice mail."
"That will not be necessary thank you. Is your Statistical Analyst in today?"
When did Agent Eppes' brother get a title? She smiled; enjoying this mans polite manner of speaking. In a moment of weakness she forgot her training. No names, no personal information.
"No, he's not. He doesn't keep an office here and I believe Professor Eppes has classes on Tuesdays."
"Oh, very well then", the voice replied. "I will attempt to reach Agent Eppes later in the day."
The phone went dead as the call was disconnected.
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The follow-up investigation of the suspects that had been apprehended was going off without a hitch, but it was keeping Don buried in paperwork. Every detainee had fired shots on the scene and the other evidence against them thus far was quite impressive. This was going to make prosecution of the case an easy task.
Don had just returned to his desk and was about to dive back in, when Colby and Megan walked into the office.
Megan leaned over his desk.
"We just finished our last interview with the injured suspects from the raid and you are never going to believe who turned up."
Don raised his eyebrows at her.
Colby continued with the news.
"You know the little guy who fired the rocket launcher?"
"The one I shot…yeah."
"I'll give you three guesses as to what Columbian crime family this slime belongs to."
Don didn't need three guesses.
"He's a Sandoval?"
"Diego Rica Sandoval to be exact. Younger brother and U.S. operator for Mr. Ramón Sandoval himself."
Don whistled in amazement at this new piece of information.
"Did you get anything from him?"
Megan gave him a half shrug.
"Well, he didn't give up his brother if that's what you mean."
Colby laughed.
"He had a few choice words about the brutality of a certain Federal Agent who shot him without just cause and then left him in handcuffs all night."
"I guess he failed to mention the shoulder mounted rocket launcher in his statement."
"Yeah, he might have left that part out. But no worries, our case against this guy is spotless. Go straight to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200 dollars."
Megan agreed.
"He's right Don, it's wrapped up tight."
"One Sandoval in custody, that's great. But two. That would be even better. David, let's follow up on the Columbian connection here. See what you can find out from the DEA about the family's connections to narcotics in the U.S. or any other cases where their names have come up. Megan, I want you to get a hold of someone over at the AUSA's office. Find a way to put some pressure on this kid. He's the one who'll know how this stuff is getting smuggled in. If Diego is involved, his older brother is involved. Diego doesn't function apart from the family business, so there is a good change Ramón could turn up in California now that we have Diego in custody."
Then Colby spoke up.
"I'll pass the info on to Charlie, he may want to add these new variables into his equation and help us…."
"NO!"
Don looked at the startled faces of his team and then stared at the floor.
"No. Charlie is out. He's not a part of this case anymore."
And maybe not part of my life anymore. For a minute Don thought he said the last part out loud. He shook his head to dismiss the thought. He couldn't deal with that right now. Charlie could hate his guts for the rest of his life. If that was what it took to keep him safely in the classroom where he belonged, he could live with that.
He took a deep breath and faced his crew.
"Come on guys, let's get moving on this."
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"This is very unsettling Charles."
Charlie shuttered at the crestfallen tenor in his colleagues voice.
Professor Larry Fleinhardt leaned over the desk and rested his chin in his hands. He studied his young friend's swollen knuckles, now covered with chalk dust as Charlie continued to scribble numbers on the blackboard in front of him.
"I just wouldn't have expected that from you. You abhor violence of any kind."
Charlie turned to address the concerned physicist.
"I didn't expect it from me Larry. It just happened."
Charlie threw himself into his rolling chair; sliding it across the room towards the window.
"I don't know what he wanted me to say. It was an accident, it happened, its over. And despite the unlikelihood of the fact that I am still alive, I am. I'm still breathing."
"You don't seem terribly troubled by the incident; I would think being shot would be a very disturbing event under any circumstances."
Charlie spun the chair around to face the older man.
"Of course it was a disturbing event. I was terrified. But when I woke up in the hospital and Don was so upset… … I….well, I was getting past it. I didn't expect to, but I was getting past it and I was ready to get back to work on this case. I had decided that I wasn't going to let another traumatic event keep me from being useful. I made a conscious decision that I wasn't going fade back into those shadows that Don has spent the last few years pulling me out of!"
He paused.
"Besides, I've been shot at a few times now. And, well, I think….maybe….I'm starting to get used to it."
Charlie had meant the last comment to be in jest, but Larry jerked his head up from the desk and gave him uncharacteristically contemptuous glare.
"Yes, you've been shot AT Charles, but this time you were actually hit. That's quite a different matter altogether."
"I was wearing a vest Larry! It hurt. It still hurts. It could have been a tragic event, but it wasn't. I could have reacted a different way. I didn't. And the experience didn't kill me as you can see. I'm fine! But that's not the point…..It's like Don wanted me to fall apart. He wanted me to freak out again and lock myself in the garage! He wanted me to have nightmares again and stop eating and start working on P vs. NP. He wanted me to! And don't think I haven't been tempted to get lost there again, but I stayed away from it! And then when he came over yesterday and said I couldn't work with him anymore…..he didn't ask me not to Larry, he forbad it like I was five years old again trying to follow him to the ball field. If this had happened six months ago, I might have been inclined to agree with him. But not now Larry! Now I know that applied mathematics can help the FBI solve impossible cases and select relevant leads for them to follow. What I do for them has saved lives. My work has real world applications and I need to be able to use it that way. It's become part of who I am. It's part of what keeps my head above the water. It's what has kept me on the surface after all of this. Why would Don want me to quit?"
Larry watched him attentively as Charlie finished his denunciation of his older brother.
After a few moments of uneasy silence he spoke.
"Have you stopped to consider…..that perhaps your brother has been affected to a more crucial degree by this event than you were? Do you think there is a chance that he was frightened for you beyond what he had ever thought himself capable of?"
Charlie looked warily at his friend. Larry was right. But what could Charlie do about it now.
"Don really took the overprotective big brother thing to far this time Larry. I had decided this wasn't going to stop me, and then he tried to. And instead of backing off like I always do, and giving him time to cool down……This time I punched him in the face."
"I can't imagine what would possess you to strike your brother like that, Charles. He is obviously deeply concerned for your well being."
"Oh for God's sake, Larry. I don't know what came over me! I was just angry and scared and I think maybe he was too. This was a fight we needed to have. It just didn't end in the desired manner."
Charlie walked back over to his chalkboard.
"I'll figure out a way to make this okay, Larry. There has to be a way to solve this. I already know the answer, I just have to work the equation backwards and figure out which variables are needed to get the preferred result."
"As badly as we may desire to do so, we can't solve complex human relationships with complex mathematical equations, Charles. You know that. Don't you?"
A half smile floated across Charlie's face.
"Yeah, but it's the only thing I've got."
He picked up his chalk and started writing.
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Authors Notes: Please, oh please continue to leave feedback, I want to know what you think, but I'm also thrilled that you are enjoying the story!
Next Chapter: Unexpected Apathy
