"No," Don said with finality, crossing his arms, standing squarely in front of the door to his brother's hospital room. An orderly pushed an empty stretcher down the hall, a sheaf of papers dumped haphazardly on the white sheets. "My people stay."

"Agent Eppes," Rob Derrick tried again, "I'm offering the services of two highly trained bodyguards—"

"The NSA got Charlie into this mess in the first place," Don interrupted. "You hired him all those years ago to develop the cipher and put him in touch with the murder victim. My department bailed him out of this mess. With no help from you, I might add. Have your people decoded the message yet?" he put in snidely.

"Your brother's work is classified—"

"—and damn tough to crack." That gave Don satisfaction to say. "So without my brother, you're up a creek. In fact, the FBI is the one who ended up with the deciphered message and found the uranium. You should be thanking us for pulling your fat out of the fire."

Derrick tried again. "We need to debrief him. We need up-to-date information—"

Don didn't budge. "He needs to rest. I helped carry him out of the rubble, Derrick, rubble that he pulled down on himself to stop the terrorists. I called the Atomic Energy people to recover the uranium that he located. My team and I apprehended the terrorists who abducted him, threatening to use that uranium on the rest of us in this country. After all of that, he gets to rest. Without being pestered by two interrogaters posing as bodyguards. The only people pestering him will be the doctors and nurses in this hospital."

"National Security—"

"—doesn't apply," Don told him. "The uranium is safe in our custody. The country is safe. Debriefing can wait."

"My men—"

"Assign 'em to either end of the hallway," Don suggested, "if they need to feel needed. The personnel around here are really good about wearing their ID badges. They can question anyone without a badge."

Derrick sighed. "Special Agent Eppes—"

"What?"

The shrug indicated that Derrick had given up. "Can I at least say hello to Charlie? I haven't seen him face to face in three years."

Well, that was a new one. Don didn't know what to say. He blinked. "Uh…"

"Thanks." Derrick pushed by him, walking into the hospital room. "Hi, Charlie," he started to say.

"Sh!"

Charlie didn't need bodyguards, either of the FBI or the NSA persuasion. He had his own cadre of highly personalized defenders. All three of them looked up as Derrick entered the room, and three glares almost drove the man back out.

"He's sleeping," Alan Eppes admonished Derrick. He wagged a dangerous finger at the man. "Have some courtesy."

Larry Fleinhardt, his arm in a sling, favored Rob Derrick with a searing glance that would turn a glacier into super-heated steam in a nanosecond. "You, sir, seem to have a predilection for turning up a day late and a dollar short, still expecting to be compensated for your efforts. Charles was quite right about you."

Even Amita Ramajuan, the mildest of them, told him, "If you're looking for the rest of the code, don't bother. I'm not working on it until Charlie wakes up. And maybe not then." She turned to Don. "Not him, Don. The other guy was taller, lighter hair."

"Thanks, Amita. That helps."

Now it was Derrick's turn to blink. "Agent Eppes? Am I missing something?" Something that you didn't share with me, after all our heart to heart talks?

Don kept his voice down in deference to the sleeping man in the bed. "Dr. Ramajuan was approached by someone, and then found that her computer work had been wiped. That work was assisting Charlie. Have a clue who did it?"

"You thought that I—?" Derrick did a nice job of expressing hurt bewilderment, Don decided. He must have practiced in front of a mirror.

"It was a possibility," he replied evenly. "This is, after all, national security."

"And now I'm cleared. That's nice to know." Me, with my security clearance a lot higher than yours, Eppes.

"And now you're cleared of interfering with an FBI investigation. There are still some loose ends," Don said, working hard at keeping the sarcasm out of his voice. As in, it wouldn't be the first time my government has chosen to commit a crime in the interests of security.

"Elaborate?"

"I still don't have a suspect for the murder of Ned Ames," Don told him. Remember him? Your field intelligence agent? The guy who started this mess? "Someone threatened, however obliquely, Dr. Ramajuan and damaged her work. Her national security work, authorized by the FBI," he pushed. It was stretching the truth but he was banking that Derrick wouldn't notice. That man, Don decided, was used to stretching truth until it screamed for mercy. "And, finally, I've got two missing terrorists. I have evidence that this particular cell contained four members, only two of whom are in custody. There's the one that we apprehended outside of the collapsed mine, and the other that we nabbed outside my father's house." Actually Charlie's, but I'm not really worried about semantics at the moment.

"Those other two are buried beneath the rubble in the mine," Derrick said. "Isn't that what I was told? That the terrorists are presumed to be my agent's murderers?"

Aha! "I don't know who told you anything, Mr. Derrick," Don said, "but I haven't released that information to anyone beyond my team and my supervisor. Care to explain how you came by it?"

"I have my sources—"

"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Derrick, and you're coming dangerously close to admitting to spying on the FBI. We're supposed to be on the same side. I repeat," Don said, eye glittering, "how did you come by that information?"

Derrick gestured at the three civilians, all seated and watching the tableau closely. The only person not listening was Charlie, his breathing coming easily under the influence of narcotics. "Should we be having this discussion here?"

"Frankly, I find this all quite fascinating," was Dr. Fleinhardt's opinion. "With a mystery this complex, it gives me hope that Unified Field Theory will be a mere trifle in comparison."

Larry's earlier glare to Derrick was returned, with interest. "Well?" Derrick put to Don.

For his part, Don was enjoying Derrick's discomfort. It almost—but not quite—made up for the past couple of days. He wrestled a grin into submission. "I believe that you'll find that all three of these civilians know as much as any of us about this case. Not only that: I've found, through experience, that tapping into their various areas of expertise leads to quicker and more satisfactory case closures. Consultants can be so useful," he added. "Especially scientifically-trained observers as consultants. They observe a great deal."

"That sounds like you are leading up to something, Agent Eppes." Derrick's voice held its own level of danger.

"I am, Director Derrick. Would you like to hear what Dr. Ramajuan observed?"

"I don't appear to have much choice."

"No one's forcing you to stay," Alan Eppes pointed out, earning himself his own return glare from Charlie's former employer.

Gee, another excellent observation. Don couldn't have done better if he'd handed the civilian trio a bunch of scripts to follow. They were needling the NSA man just by being there, and the comments they were offering only put the icing on the cake. He pulled out a photo of a small, round electronic object and handed it to Derrick.

"Recognize this?"

Derrick did. "A listening device, probably a DLS 43-R, maybe a later model, maybe the –S or –T. Something from one of our vice president's many military company connections. Where did you find it?"

"Look like the 'S' model," Don confirmed. "Amita?"

"I found it plugged into my laptop," Amita said, still annoyed and not afraid to show it. "Someone tried to hide it on the back, hooked onto one of the USB links."

"As soon as we found that the data from her laptop had been erased, I had the whole thing examined by our Forensics tech people," Don said. "Clever little toy. Not only does it transmit the contents of the files, but it erases them afterward as well. Works really well on wireless devices. Sneaky little things, aren't they?"

"Are you accusing me of planting that on her computer?" Derrick asked coldly.

"Not at all," Don returned. "In fact, you were a long shot, a doubt that Dr. Ramajuan just confirmed by telling us that you weren't the person who visited her, impersonating an FBI agent. Impersonation of any Federal agent, as you are well aware, is a crime; even by a member of a different department. But it did clue us in that there was someone out there wanting help in figuring out what Ned Ames' message said, someone who had neither access to the key nor access to Charlie. I never did seriously consider the NSA as the culprits."

"Thank you for that, Agent Eppes."

Don ignored the return sarcasm. "The NSA already has code experts who have had extensive access to Charlie's work. You didn't need Amita's help, especially when you consider that her area of expertise doesn't include cryptography. She's very good, and she knows how Charlie thinks, but your own people were already ahead of her. They've been decrypting Ned Ames' work for years.

"So where am I going with this? I'm still looking for someone who needs to decode the message. Can't be the terrorists; they already had Charlie." Don tried to suppress the shiver at how close it had been, and he carefully avoided looking at the still figure in the hospital bed. "Who else is involved with this case?"

Derrick wasn't stupid. "CIA."

"Exactly. What can you tell me about this Mr. Tanner, Director Derrick?"

"He's a spook."

"I'd kind of figured that," Don told him. "Care to be more specific?"

Derrick sighed. "He's one of the best in the business. No one—and we think that may include his bosses—can keep track of him. He's turned in some of the most remarkable work in the past decade, but he's also one of the most unreliable people. When he's on, I can honestly say that he's single-handedly saved this country from possibly two or more disasters rivaling 9/11. But in between?" He sighed again. "Let's just say that I am exceedingly grateful that I am not his handler. I already have an ulcer from trying to keep track of my own people." A third sigh, followed by a frown. "Do you suspect him of murdering Ned Ames, Agent Eppes? That's a serious accusation."

"It's not an accusation yet," Don told him. "At this moment, he's simply a loose end. Which is about to get a little tighter," he added, listening to his cell phone buzz.

His father frowned. "Isn't that thing supposed to be turned off when you're in a hospital?"

"I got a special dispensation from the powers that be. Seems they're a little worried about terrorists coming in and shooting up the place while one of their previous victims is a patient here. They can't wait until we take him home. They're pressuring the docs more than the insurance companies to get him out of here." He flipped open his cell. "Eppes. Yes, David? Got it; good to know. Yes, your timing is impeccable, as always." He turned to Derrick.

Derrick's patience was rapidly running out. "Well?"

"I was wrong." Don didn't looked displeased at the revelation. "Well, not completely wrong. It wasn't the 'S' model. It was the 'S-II' model."

"Never heard of it." Derrick's patience was now gone. "Agent Eppes—"

"The 'S-II' model is an upgrade to the 'S'". Don didn't really need to explain that part. "Instead of sending a signal to its operator, it sends a signal to two operators. Not necessarily with the first operator's knowledge or consent." He folded his arms. "Apparently the CIA is spending a little more money on technological marvels than the NSA." Don sat down, very comfortable not in the chair but with his knowledge. "Let me put forth a little hypothesis, Director Derrick."

"That's redundant," Larry put in. "'Hypo-' means 'little' or 'small' in Greek."

Don ignored the physicist. "The NSA and the CIA are in this together. It doesn't matter who contacted who—"

"—whom," his father muttered.

Consultants!

"—whom," Don continued, not quite daring to glare at his father, "but the bottom line is that Tanner placed the bug on Amita's computer to not only slow us down but to keep track of everything that we knew. Am I right?"

Derrick glared. "Yes. Tracking the illegal transportation of uranium, especially for potential terrorist use, was too important to leave in anyone else's hands. We had to find it, after Ned disappeared. Especially after he turned up dead. We had to assume that the original terrorists found him, maybe even figured out where the uranium had been hidden. I don't trust Tanner, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity for intelligence. I told him where to place the tap, who was working the code along with Charlie."

"I hardly think the FBI can be considered 'anyone,'" Don said mildly, his tone masking his anger. "Clear something up for me? Who planted the second 'S-II'? You or Tanner?"

Derrick's face turned a pasty shade of white. "You found that one, too?"

"As I said, Director Derrick: the information about the terrorists in the mine was released only to my team and my area director. After discovering the tap on Amita's computer, we went looking a little closer to home. Yes, we found the second bug." Got you. Time to squeeze. "There's been enough inter-agency bickering, Mr. Derrick. You can either give me the whole story, or my department can file a rock solid complaint against your department with the evidence in our hands. Your choice."

"I—" Derrick didn't know what to say. He rallied. "Complaints can be swept under the rug. It all depends on whose congressional committee has more power."

"True. But there's one more thing to consider: Charlie didn't finish decoding the message that Ned Ames sent. There's more to it."

"What do you mean?" Derrick was getting less and less happy over the revelations.

"He means—" Charlie's voice dissolved into a series of painful coughs. The room turned to the man, all wanting to help. Don jumped to his feet, Amita close behind.

His father got there first, holding a glass of water with a straw. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough." Charlie lay back against the pillow, suppressing another cough. It hurt! "Don's right, Rob. Tanner's been using you. He's been using everyone."

"Explain."

But Charlie shook his head, wincing. "No, Rob. Not this time. You've been doing your share of using people as well. You used me."

"You're an NSA consultant—"

"Was, Rob. Was. I may still come back, but right now I'm working for the FBI. Another government agency," he rode over Derrick's objections, "and, right now, in a better position to resolve this. Don," and Charlie turned to his brother. "Get me the laptop that I left in the terrorists' place." His voice faltered slightly over the description.

"It's in Forensics. They're checking it out."

"I hope they didn't screw up any of my work," Charlie muttered. He stared into space, trying not to let the narcotics take hold again. "There's a message that I need to finish decoding."