A/N- Sorry this took so long. I have had to re-write this chapter so many times I lost count. I tried lots of different things to get the sequencing of where the different characters needed to be physically and what time of day it was correct. There is actually quite a bit more to this sequence but the chapter was getting kind of long and I figured if I posted this then I could buy myself another couple of days to get the rest put together.
Did anyone figure out the numbers yet? They are reveled in this chapter.
Thanks for reading,
Alice I
Chapter Twenty-One
Shelly secured the lid on the crate then climbed down out of the back of the van and closed up the back doors. She walked to the cab of the truck and got in when her cell phone rang shrilly. She looked at the number and sighed.
"Yes Becky, what is the problem now?"
"What is the problem?" Becky hissed into the phone trying to keep her voice down. "I'll tell you what the problem is. They have you. They know that it's you killing these agents! I told you to stop, but you wouldn't listen. I told you this was a mistake. The LA office called asking for your file. Not just some file Shell, but yours. What the hell am I supposed to do? God damn it Shell, I wish I had never giving that file to you."
Shelly paled slightly but shook her head with a determined look on her face.
"Stall."
"What? What do you mean stall? I am not going to be implicated in this Shell. This is your gig. All I did was give you a file, that's it. I want no part of these killings!"
"Becky, you are already a part of this. If you want to save your own skin then you will do exactly as I say, do you understand me?"
Shelly waited for a moment. She could tell that her cousin was thinking things over.
"What do you want me to do, and it had better not be illegal. I won't ever do that for you again. Giving you that file was the only thing they can pin on me and I am keeping it that way."
"How long ago did you get this call?"
"About five minutes ago, maybe ten."
"All right, don't do anything. Just keep working. Wait until they call back asking where the thing is. Tell them that you are terribly sorry. That the CO was out of the building and you had to have him sign off on the transfer of information before you could fax it over. Tell them that the CO is back and that you will take care of it right away. Then leave. Go home pack a bag and head south."
"Are you kidding me? I don't want to be on the run! I have a job and a life here. Granted it's not a great job or a great life but it's mine. Shelly, you can't ask this of me."
"I can't? You know damn well that I can. I have kept your secret all of these years. I never told anyone about that fire and how you killed my parents. I have protected you ever since we were kids. You owe me, you owe me everything!"
There was another silence on the line. Over the years Shelly had convinced her rather gullible cousin that it was totally her fault that a fire burned her family home to the ground killing her parents. She had held that as emotional blackmail over her cousin ever since they were children, counting on the fact that Becky would never really piece together that it was Shelly who cleverly coaxed her younger cousin to set the fire. Shelly had suffocated her parents beforehand so that they would burn in the blaze.
Shelly knew that she had won when she heard her cousin sigh in resignation. "Good, now just relax. When you leave, head for Costa Rica; I'll meet you at the hotel that your parents took us on vacation."
She drove to the Cal Sci campus and pulled around to the back of the math building. There was a service and maintenance entrance that she utilized when she brought in the supplies for the table. She made sure that her hair was pulled up in a tight bun and put a brown baseball cap on with the Cal Sci insignia on the bill. She checked to make sure that her name tag was attached to her collar and stepped out into the bright afternoon sun.
She walked to the back doors of the truck and opened them. Using the controls she began to lower the lift from the back of the truck. Once it was about three inches lower than the floor of the truck she stopped it and climbed up into the truck.
She pushed the large dolly out of the back and let it drop down onto the lift. Then she maneuvered the Sara lift to the back of the truck. The dolly wasn't flush with the bed of the truck so Shelly used the interior control to lower it another half an inch until they were even before locking the dolly wheels. She rolled the Sara lift onto the dolly then moved to the back of the truck and pushed the crate out. It was hard to move but it rested on a moving blanket that made it slide along the floor of the truck more easily. Once she had the equipment that she needed securely on the dolly she lowered the lift to the ground and pushed the dolly off the lift. The maintenance entrance to the math building was deserted and she left the dolly there while she closed up the truck and parked it away from the entrance, over near the dumpsters in the back.
She made her way into the building and headed straight for the service elevators hoping that she wouldn't run into anyone like she had the other day. She didn't have an explanation for the crate and lift if she were questioned about them. It was still early enough in the day that she could potentially run into faculty and moved rather quickly down the hall. Once safely inside the service elevator she breathed a sigh of relief.
The basement of the math building was large and had several rooms off the long corridor that ran the length of the building. It seemed that at one point this floor was also used as classrooms. The building was fairly old and musty but the thick mortar walls would offer an adequate sound barrier for her work. Near the east end of the corridor there was a rather large store room on the left. She had cleared out a large space in the center of this room for her operating table.
She had spent the better part of a day clearing the projectors, blackboards, boxes of books and other stored items along the outer walls of the room. She turned the dolly with some difficulty in the narrow corridor until she was able to get it through the doorway. She checked her watch, it was two thirty and she smiled. She had plenty of time but wanted to make sure that Agent Eppes was fully secured before she took a break.
She removed the lid from the crate and looked in at the agent crumpled in a heap at the bottom. She reached in and took his gun and holster off of his limp body and placed it on top of the boxes next to the door. She locked the dolly wheels again and pushed the Sara lift off onto the cement floor. The lift banged down hard but these things were practically indestructible and had been through far worse during its years of service in the geriatric nursing field. Then she took a deep breath and pushed the crate over on its side. Don and the other contents of the crate tumbled out onto the floor next to the lift.
It only took her a few minutes to pull the limp agent up into a sitting position and drape his arms into the lift apparatus. She secured his upper body to the lift with the Velcro straps that were attached to it and began to crank up the hydraulic shaft which pulled the unconscious man up into a standing position. She turned the lift to the side and pushed it up against the table before releasing the pressure on the suspension lowering Don against the table.
Shelly then locked the lift wheels and moved around to the side of it. She picked up his legs and swung them up onto the table before lowering his upper body the rest of the way down. She moved the lift and the dolly off to the far end of the room just past the end of her table and set about strapping her victim down.
Once she had Don securely imprisoned she checked her watch again. She wasn't ready to begin with him yet and he was already showing signs of coming around. She went over to the dolly and pulled a small case out of the crate that she had transported him in. She pulled out a syringe and a small vial of fluid and carefully measured out a small amount of the drug.
Don began to moan softly and turn his head trying to shake off the effects of the tranquilizer. Shelly moved over to the side of the table and using a scalpel she sliced open his shirt sleeve exposing his arm. Don's eyes cracked open and he looked at her. As he focused on her face she smiled at him and bent down to kiss him. Don tried to back away from her but found himself securely tied down. His eyes shot open wide in alarm. Shelly pushed the needle into his vein and leered down at Don as she pushed the contents into his bloodstream.
"That should keep you quiet for a couple of hours dear. I'll be back soon."
Don's vision began to cloud. "Why are you doing this?"
"Shelly removed the needle and reached over to stroke the side of Don's face. "Shhh. We'll have plenty of time to talk later."
Don turned his face away from her as the blackness overtook him again. Shelly went back to the dolly and pushed it aside to reach for a box that she had stored earlier in the week. She pulled out a small bottle of bleach and decanted some into a thermos then capped it tightly. Then she took a bottle of nail polish remover, a small brown bottle that was unlabeled and a couple of brillo pads and stuffed them into a small fanny pack.
She checked her watch once more and adjusted the name tag on her collar before heading out of the store room and securely locking it with a padlock. She took a large sign that read:
Do not enter
Hazardous spill to be cleaned by LA Hazmat Team
Maintenance
She made her way out of the math building and walked over to the silver Taurus parked in the west end parking lot and drove downtown to the federal building.
Colby sat in front of the fax machine tapping his fingers impatiently. He had called Quantico and spoken to the archive clerk at two o'clock requesting the file on Shelly Arbury. After an hour of waiting he had called back and was told by this clerk that the transfer had to be approved by the CO who had been out of the building at the time. She assured him that she would get the fax taken care of within the next half an hour. It was now almost three thirty and Colby's patience was wearing thin. Megan came over to him and asked if he had gotten the file yet.
"I have called twice now trying to get the thing sent over. The clerk I spoke to gave me some bogus excuse that she needed to clear the fax through the CO first. That was almost half an hour ago."
Megan frowned and nodded. "Ok, look if it isn't here in the next few minutes, I'll call and speak directly to the CO."
David walked up to the two of them holding some printouts.
"Ok, I got some information on Shelly Arbury. She worked as the librarian at Quantico between 1991 and 1996. After that she worked as a nursing assistant at the Mayflower Estates Home for the Aging until 1998. Then she worked in a variety of smaller nursing homes as well as an in-home nursing service until she took a position with a discount medical supply company in 2003 called Med Link. The company went bankrupt five months ago. After that she seems to have fallen off the grid. No credit card activity. She moved out of her apartment shortly after the company went under. If she is continuing to use and pay for utilities including cell service it is under an assumed name. She grew up in West Virginia with her aunt and uncle."
David flipped through the pages and continued. "Tom and Louise Cantor took her in after a fire killed both of her parents when she was nine. She and her seven year old cousin Rebecca were the only ones to survive the fire."
Colby looked up startled. "Rebecca?" He turned to Megan and said, "That is the name of the archive clerk who has been jerking me around about this fax. Rebecca Cantor!"
"It's her cousin! Colby get the CO on the line right now. I need to talk to Merrick."
Megan turned and walked quickly to the assistant director's office. He was on the phone when she knocked and walked in. Just then the building general and smoke alarms went off. He and Megan rushed out into the bull pen and started yelling for everyone to head for the stairs. Once they made it down to the lobby level they were forced to continue to the parking garage. The lobby was in a shambles. There was smoke and debris everywhere. The sound of distant sirens filled the air as the fire department rushed to the scene.
Charlie had spent the last two hours playing chess with Larry as his father gathered boxes of books that he planned to donate to the library. Alan decided that he needed to do something to occupy himself. Stan had called yesterday and told him that the meetings earlier in the week had gone well and they could take a bit of a break while they waited to hear from their perspective clients about their bids.
The Pasadena Public Library in Grant Park was always happy to incorporate used books in good condition onto their shelves. Alan had decided months ago to go through the stored volumes to donate, but had managed to put it off due to his growing business.
By four o'clock Charlie was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on the game that he and Larry were playing. He got up several times and began pacing and biting his fingernails.
"Charles, what is it?"
Charlie stopped mid stride and looked over at his friend. He quickly put his hand down as he realized that Larry had noticed that he was biting his nails.
"I don't know Larry. Why isn't Don back yet? He said he needed to check on something but that was hours ago."
Larry sat back in his chair and scratched his head absently. "There are several explanations for his delay. We don't even know what he went to look into."
"But he's not supposed to be working on this case now." Charlie started pacing again.
"That's true but if he thought of something that would help to solve it you know as well as I do that he would not keep that information to himself."
Larry studied his friend for a moment. He had a pensive and almost pained look in his eyes.
"Charles, there is something else isn't there?"
"I don't know Larry, something just feels wrong. I can't explain it, or even identify what is making me feel this way."
Alan stepped into the living room where they were playing and held up a glass of water and a small white pill.
"I may have an explanation for that. You are past due for this."
He held out the glass and the medication to his younger son who frowned. "Dad, I don't really think that those are necessary. I'm not depressed."
"Charlie these are not just anti-depressants. They help with the anxiety. The doctor wants you to get these anxiety attacks under control and so do I. If taking medication is a way to accomplish that then it is only logical to take it."
Charlie grudgingly took the proffered pill and water and swallowed the medication then handed the glass back to his father who took it out to the kitchen. As Alan turned and walked away Charlie muttered under his breath, "I'm not a child."
Larry, who had remained silent during this exchange, turned around and started putting the chess set away thinking that for a man who insisted on not being treated like a child he certainly had a tendency to act like one.
"What?"
Larry knew that the look on his face had not gone unnoticed by the young mathematician. He didn't really want to get into a debate with him about the use of medication or his father's 'coddling' as Charlie had called it during an earlier conversation. Instead he finished putting the pieces of the game away and picked up the remote to the television.
"It's nothing, Charles. It is however obvious that chess isn't a sufficient distraction so perhaps we could just sit a watch a movie."
"I don't want to watch TV, Larry. I want to know what is taking Don so long to get back."
Larry sighed deeply and set the remote down. When Don had left the cemetery earlier he had given Larry a look that had clearly been a request for him to stay with Charlie until he returned and he was finding Charlie's mood a little difficult to cope with at the moment.
"Charles, I am sure that everything is fine. Don had a lead that I am sure he decided to share with the rest of the team. The traffic at this time of day alone could account for the time it is taking him to return. Have you tried calling his cell phone?"
Charlie picked up the phone and dialed without answering Larry. He listened for a moment before setting the phone back down.
"It says he's out of the service area, which probably means that he is inside a building where he isn't getting reception." Charlie began pacing again. "Look, I'm sorry that I seem so out of sorts, Larry. I've been cooped up in the house all week and it's starting to get to me."
Alan had just walked back into the living room and heard this. "I have the perfect solution. Why don't you help me get these boxes of books out to the car and you can go with me down to the library."
Charlie looked at his father then outside at the late afternoon sun. It was nearly 4:30 in the afternoon and Don really should be getting back soon, but sitting around the house waiting was starting to get him a little twisted. He had already felt like an anxiety attack was threatening as he grew more and more concerned about Don's prolonged absence.
"All right Dad. Where are these boxes?"
"They are all on the counter in the kitchen."
Larry and Charlie went out to the kitchen and each grabbed a box of books to take to the car. Once they had loaded them all into the trunk Alan turned to Larry.
"Are you coming, Larry?"
Larry wasn't sure what he wanted to do at this point. He felt slightly obligated to stay until Don came home but he got an impression that Charlie needed to talk to his father alone.
"I think I'll stay here and wait for Don, if that's all right?" he directed that last at Charlie.
"You are always welcome to come and go as you wish, Larry. We shouldn't be gone for very long. I'll see you in a bit."
Alan and Charlie got in the car and Larry watched as they drove off down the street. He watched for a few minutes after they had turned the corner out of sight lost in thought.
Charlie stared off into space for the first two blocks. Alan decided that now was as good a time as any to try and talk to his son about this experience and his consulting.
"Do you remember telling me a few weeks back that you thought that you were wasting your time consulting with the Bureau?"
Charlie turned and looked incredulously at his father.
"Yeah, I remember. I also remember taking it back and you defending my work with the FBI."
"The time that you have spent working with Don has brought the two of you much closer together. That is something that makes me very happy. There have been times when I have wondered about how deeply you get involved with Don's cases however. Last year when that sniper was going around killing people I nearly had a heart attack when I found out that you were going to crime scenes. Then last month, the way you were affected by that drug dealer and pedophile, made me question your involvement again."
Charlie looked away from his father and out the window. Alan could see that he was starting to shut him out and he needed to get his point across before that happened.
"Listen to me, Charlie. I know that you can make your own decisions but you are not equipped to deal with the horrors that your brother faces on a daily basis. If consulting for the FBI is going to put you into situations where you have to be exposed to so much violence and danger then maybe you should re-think that issue. This isn't the life you chose for yourself."
Charlie turned back to look at his father. Alan couldn't read what was behind his son's troubled eyes.
"I'm not a child who needs to be protected you know. Besides it's a little late for that now anyway."
"Charlie, I'm not saying that you are a child."
"Dad, don't, ok?" Charlie looked away for a moment gathering his thoughts. "There is no way back, it's like when mom died…
…all that time I spent hiding away from you and Don…
…hiding from her."
Charlie grew silent again and Alan held his tongue, allowing his son to speak when he felt comfortable.
"Once she was gone, that was it. All of those hours, all of those days that I could have spent with her are gone…" Charlie's voice softened to a whisper. "…and I can never get them back."
Alan wanted to embrace Charlie and take away that regret, but he knew he couldn't. Charlie was right. He robbed himself of the time he could have spent saying good bye to his mother by escaping into his world of numbers.
"When I fall asleep, I hear his screams and there's nothing I can do. I can't save him…
…I can't ease his pain. All I can do is listen to him die."
Charlie paused again and when he spoke it was so soft that Alan almost missed it.
"There's no going back.…"
"The man that I was only a week ago is gone… and he's not coming back."
Alan had patiently listened to Charlie as he spoke but this was going in a direction that he didn't like. "I thank God every day that you were spared. Charlie, please don't say that."
When Charlie turned to his father he had a fierce look in his eye and an edge to his voice. "Why? It's true. Your son died that night! Now all you have left is me; a poor replacement."
This was too much. Alan pulled over to the side of the road and put the car in park. He turned in his seat to face his son with an overwhelming fear shining in his eyes.
"Don't say that, Charlie! You are not a different man now than you were before this happened. You have been through a horrible experience but you need to realize that it isn't the experiences that we endure in this life that define us as men, but what we take away from them."
Alan wasn't sure what to expect at this point, but the defeat in Charlie's eyes was such an abrupt change from the near defiance he had shown only a moment before surprised him, and made his heart ache. Charlie looked down his cheeks growing red with shame and began to speak in a low and almost sad voice.
"I know what it is to hate… to really have a true hatred for another human being. I feel it inside me. It burns, like a hot coal. It's always there under all other emotions; fear… sorrow… despair. They're transient. They come and they go, but the hate remains. It's a constant companion."
Charlie looked up and felt an awful hopelessness descend over him. "It's like a cancer, eating away at my soul. I don't know how to not feel this. Larry said that I should just feel what ever emotions I am having but I don't want this. I feel like I am turning so far away from who I used to be that I'll be lost forever before too long."
Charlie looked away from his father then. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment he was sure would be there in his eyes.
"You know what the scariest part is? I'm getting used to it."
Charlie sat back in his seat and stared out the front window. Alan was at a loss. His son's words had deeply disturbed him.
"Charlie, you will not feel this way forever. I have no way to prove that to you, I can only tell you that it is true. Please, son, give yourself some time. It has only been a few days since this happened. I will do whatever it takes to help you get through this, but you can't give up."
"I don't want to talk about this anymore."
Alan waited for a moment watching Charlie, hoping that he would say something else or turn to look at him, but he just sat still gazing out the window as if oblivious to everything around him.
Alan sighed and turned back pulling the car back out into traffic. They drove the rest of the way to the library in silence.
When they arrived Alan and Charlie took all of the boxes up to the main desk. They were able to do this in two trips and the head librarian came out to speak to Alan while Charlie took a seat on one of the benches near the reference section.
As he looked around a feeling of nostalgia swept over him. It was a different life when he came down here on his bike to this library. He remembered so many long hours spent here, reading anything he could get his hands on that concerned not only mathematics but logic as well. He had practically memorized the Dewey Decimal numbers associated with all of his favorite books.
Suddenly numbers flashed before his eyes. So many different numbers… most of them were six digits long. Each section and topic had it own assigned number then the library coded the last three digits according to what they had in stock. They would always leave at least twenty number spaces between categories and authors for new additions like the ones he and his father had brought in today.
Charlie was panting heavily when his father shook him. "Charlie! Breathe son, what is it?"
Charlie came out of his musings with an almost frantic start. "Oh, God! How could I have been so blind? It's the Dewey Decimal System! That's what they are! It's not a code, it's like Larry said. They are raw data. They represent books!"
Charlie stood abruptly practically dragging his father by the arm. "Come on Dad, I have to get home. I have to log onto the Quantico system! It's all there. The entire thing is on-line!"
Alan couldn't get a word in edgewise as Charlie ranted. They had reached the car and Alan stopped short. "Charlie! What is this all about? What are you talking about?"
"The numbers, dad; the number clues left by this killer. They refer to books; books in a library. It must be the library at Quantico."
