"Dad? Charlie?" Called Don as he let himself into his brother's craftsman home at around 8 that evening.
"Oh, hey Donnie, Charlie isn't back yet," said his father appearing from the lounge. "I figured he was with you."
Don shook his head, "I was interviewing a suspect – what a waste of time that turned out to be. He must be still at CalSci, I dropped him off there around lunchtime."
The father and son shared an indulgent smile as they both thought about previous times Charlie had let his work distract him from the real world so that he forgot to eat, sleep, or any of the other normal functions. "Tell you what, I'll give him an hour and then I'll drive over and get him." Said Don, who knew better to try Charlie's mobile. The sound of a mobile ringing while he was working would be as insignificant to Charlie as the sound of a fly on the windowsill. The pair sat down in the living room and Don turned on the TV while they waited.
An hour came and went. Don decided to give his brother a bit longer because he didn't want to miss him in transit. At 9.30 he dialled Charlie's mobile but received no answer. While his father looked on quizzically, Don left a message on Charlie's answerphone telling him that he was coming to pick him up. "Keep trying his mobile," Don instructed his father as he left, "when he picks up tell him not to leave CalSci or I'll miss him."
The drive to CalSci was not long but Don was surprised to find it all in darkness when he got there. The doors were still open because students and professors often worked late into the night, but the corridor that led to Charlie's classroom was dark and the classroom uninhabited. Likewise with his office. "Damn," said Don. Charlie hadn't picked up then, and Don had wasted his journey going to fetch him when he had already left. Annoyed, Don walked back to his car and drove home to Charlie place keeping an eye out for Charlie on the way. He had half a mind to let Charlie walk it even if he did meet him. As he pulled into the house his Dad came running out to him.
"Dad – are you OK?"
Wordlessly Alan placed a piece of paper he was holding into Don's hands and then led the way back into the house. He looked ready to collapse.
Agent Eppes
Your brother has been kidnapped. Drop the case. You have 48 hours to hand it in as unsolved to your supervisor or you will never see Charlie again.
Do not underestimate us and do not try to find him. You will regret it.
Yours Sincerely
Don read the note twice and then looked up at his father who was staring at him. Don tried to speak but found he could say nothing to comfort the look of desperation that he found in his father's eyes so he took refuge in pursuing the note again. He shook his head. There was no doubt in his mind as what "the case" could mean; although technically he had three unsolved cases to work on at the moment, there was only one case that was occupying his thoughts. "There's no way . . ." What he was reading just wasn't possible. He grabbed his phone and dialled Charlie again, his fingers slipping on the keys as he did so. Dead. "Dad . . ." began Don, but he couldn't finish the sentence.
Alan was the first to recover, "Its OK," he said in a strained, unnatural voice. "It's OK. We're going to get him back. He's going to be fine and we're going to get him back."
Alan's words spurred Don into action. His phone was still in his hand and he dialled Terri at the FBI office. From her voice Don could tell she was as distressed as he was, but her professional training kicked in immediately and she made arrangements to meet Don at Charlie's house with a task force as soon as possible.
Don snapped his phone shut and started pacing the living room. "How could this have happened? When did they take him? They must have been at the university! They could have been there while I dropped him off, waiting! Why didn't I see – see – oh my God." He momentarily paused his pacing to stare at his father in horror. "It was a set-up, I just didn't see what kind. They wanted to make sure I wasn't anywhere near Charlie when they grabbed him." He shook his head and resumed his pacing, furious with himself for playing into their little trap. Had he even considered what the stakes might have been he would never have been so foolhardy.
Alan, who had very little idea of what his son was talking about had sunk into a chair with his head in his hands. Of all the dangers the concerned parent had envisaged for his two sons in their line of work, kidnap had never entered into his nightmares. FBI agents and FBI consultants did not get kidnapped. Shot, yes. Stabbed, yes. Kidnapped? But Don had other worries on his mind.
"How on earth could they have known I have a brother? It's not like Charlie's brought into the public – oh hell!" Punching a wall in frustration his mind skipped back to his phone conversation with Charlie in Madison's office.
"What is it?" Asked Alan.
"I spoke to Charlie on the phone! I spoke to him in Madison's office! Then – then Madison asked me and I boasted to him about Charlie's ability to solve cases for the FBI when people thought they had left no evidence. I was trying to get Madison rattled."
"You spoke to Charlie in front of a potential suspect?" Repeated Alan disbelievingly.
"Yes," replied Don, slightly defensive at his father's tone.
"Don – what were you thinking? How could you put your brother in danger like that?"
"What danger dad? How on earth was I supposed to know Charlie was in danger from what I was saying? I though Madison was a paedophile at the time, remember."
"What does it matter what he was, he was still a criminal," said Alan, his voice sounding more accusatory by the minute, it was almost as if he had added 'and you brought Charlie to his attention,' he didn't, but the words hung in the air between them nonetheless.
"A paedophile would never have kidnapped Charlie," said Don in a voice of determined patience. "They are often extremely law abiding people in everyday life and 99 of the time they only ever harm children. These mercenaries however will use any and all means to get what they want."
"But you didn't have to answer the call," pressed Alan.
"I did." Said Don shortly. "I answered Charlie like I'd answer a call from Terri or David or any FBI consultant. It wasn't a social call: what Charlie had to say was directly relevant to the suspect I was interviewing. I can't give him preferential treatment simply because he's my brother."
"Well it's a pity these people don't play by your rules. They have no scruples about using him to get you to play ball."
"Dad, they have no scruples at all," said Don quietly. He heard the sound of a car drawing up outside. "What the hell am I doing? Charlie has 48 hours for me to find his kidnappers and find him and I've just wasted 15 minutes of them." Then without looking back at his father he hurried out to his car, feeling guilty about not doing so, but shoving these feelings away until he was at leisure to worry about them.
47 hours, 45 minutes
CalSci university was swarming with forensic teams, plainclothes detectives, besuitted agents and other FBI personnel in dark blue windbreakers. To one side of the car park stood David Sinclair interviewing a stricken Amita and a very pale Larry who had both been waiting for Charlie to turn up but had assumed he had been tied up with Don. They had been working late on a project the three of them had undertaken as a bit of fun and had been in Larry's classroom when the FBI turned up. Now they were haltingly answering David's questions.
As Don came striding across the car park to meet them, Amita detached herself from the group and came running over to him. "Have you heard anything?" was her first question and "Is your father OK?" was her second. When Don had replied to both these questions in the negative she said, "is there anything I can do?"
Don looked over to where Larry was still being interview by David. He was touched by their emotion on his brother's behalf. Charlie had good friends here; Don just prayed he would live to see them again. Something inside he was struggling to contain threatened to escape him as he thought this but he clamped it down and said, "if there is I'll call you straight away, alright?"
Terri appeared at his side, "we just found this in Charlie's office, under the desk," she said. "It indicates that he did manage to get inside the building. He was probably working on them and pushed them under the desk when they showed up." Don took the papers from her and examined them unaware that Terri was scrutinizing him closely as he did so. He handed the papers to Amita saying, "this was what Charlie was working on. They're mainly statistics about tax fraud and missing persons, but I think there's some stuff about certain specific cases in there too. It might help if you can pick up where he – where he left off."
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A/N: If you are worried that this is just a 'Charlie gets kidnapped' fic, there is a case plot in here as well which I spent a long time working out, so I hope you'll stick with it ;-)
