Disclaimer: The mathematical explanation in this chapter, along with the metaphor used, is (in its foundation) taken from the show, though I don't know which episode. For the rest, please consult chapter 1.
Chapter 7: Just Another Day at Work
Don sighed deeply and for a moment, he regretted his decision from the previous day. While going through the decoded messages, they'd stumbled upon a name that might lead them somewhere, because among other things, one of the messages had mentioned 'supplies'. It had instantly made them think of bombs or weaponry, and they'd decided to check out the person mentioned in the text, one Lee Rivers.
"Alright," Don had said as his last task of the day, "two of us should go there first thing in the morning and talk to the guy, the other two, and I suggest you, too, Agent Miller, should stay here and continue the interrogations and go through the rest of the messages and the reports."
"We'll take Rivers," Colby had said before Don had even finished his sentence.
Don had tried to hide a grin, one that now that he remembered the eager look on Colby's face came back to his lips. Colby's paper allergy, as they'd started calling it, was almost legendary in the office, and in light of efficiency, Don had readily decided to let him have his will.
The door opened and Charlie carefully stuck his head inside, but halted abruptly when he saw that right now, Don was the only one in here.
"Oh," he said as a way of greeting. "Don. I… I was looking for Harvey."
Don regarded his brother for a moment, noticing his nervousness, almost as though he was scared of him. "He's in the other room, talking to his colleagues on the phone," he said.
He was still pondering the question of whether or not he should make a comment about the fact that Charlie was still standing there in the door, neither inside nor outside, when the peril of choosing something else to say that might start a fight was eliminated by Megan's arrival.
"Doctor Eppes!" she greeted him amiably while she somehow managed to gently steer him inside. As she handed Don one of the two cups of coffee in her hands, she went on, "Harvey mentioned you'd be joining us again today, even though I'm afraid to say I still don't understand what for. Would you also like a cup of coffee?"
"Um..." Charlie started not very intelligently, and Don could tell that he was taken by surprise by Megan's friendly welcoming. "I think I'm good for now, thanks," he said eventually, but Don couldn't avoid the impression that his brother had declined the offer merely to avoid being left alone with him.
"So, Professor, Harvey said you'd be doing something called a network analysis? I'm sorry, but I don't think I quite understand what that is, or how it might help us. Could you give us a quick explanation?"
Don saw Charlie thoughtfully nod and some of the tension fall off of him. "With pleasure," he said. "But… Would you mind if we just abandoned the formalities? If we are to continue working on this together, I think it would make things a lot easier."
Megan gave him a broad smile, and after they had successfully entered a first name basis, she came back to her initial question, "So, this network analysis?"
Charlie nodded. "Right. A social network analysis, which we'd be doing here, is designed to reveal the hidden structure of an organization, in this case of Life's Matter. The basic concept is quite simple. Just think of a building with numerous floors, like a hotel, for example. Some of the rooms, that is the positions, are higher up, which gives their inhabitants a better view, more information. The best view, that is the most information, should be accessible from the penthouse, where our leaders are residing. However, we must not confuse the highest position with the highest power that a certain member may have over the course of the group, because even though the penthouse is on top, everything that controls what's going on in that building might be going on someplace else. Thus, the janitor in the basement might choose to turn off the electricity in the entire top two floors without the leaders' approval. What we'd be doing in a social network analysis is reveal these hidden structures, that is combine all the information you've been gathering about their positions to rank the individual members by connectivity, access and information."
Megan nodded with understanding. "So we can figure out who's the guy living in the penthouse, and who's the janitor, which will tell us which members are the masterminds behind the terrorist activities of the group and which ones are only the followers," she finished Charlie's explanation.
"Exactly," Charlie affirmed and flashed her a wide grin that, however, faltered as soon as his gaze fell upon Don.
"Sounds good," Don said in an attempt to keep that smile alive, but still, it died, making room for the serious, business-like demeanor his brother chose to adopt.
"I'll get right to that then."
"Too bad these eco freaks haven't struck out so far," Colby said with a hidden grin on his face as he was looking for the right house number.
"You want people to get hurt?" David asked with some indignation, but primarily confusion.
"Me? G-d no, you."
He could hear that his comment had amplified his partner's confusion. "Why would I want people to get hurt? By the way, it's the red house over there, at the corner."
"Damn," Colby muttered, "I thought Rivers was some sort of security guard? How much money do they make?"
Granted, the house did look a little run-down, and it wasn't a mansion, but it was in a middle-class neighborhood and seemed rather spacious, and it definitely seemed to be over the budget of a twenty-something security guard living alone.
"He inherited it from his father a couple of months ago, as it says in one of the reports in his file. Now why would I want people to get hurt?"
"Well," Colby said, deliberately ignoring David's knock about the reports, and finally let the grin show on his face, "ever since we've been caught up in this case, we haven't come across any bodies. Which means that you haven't had a reason to pay a visit to the morgue. Or should I say: to pay a visit to Claudia?"
He'd parked the car and was looking at David now, so he couldn't miss the deep red tint that was showing on his face. "Shut up," he said and tried to escape from Colby by getting out of the car. "Besides, that's nothing to joke about."
As if Colby would let this go so easily. "You finally need to make your move, man!" he said as they were walking up towards the front door. "How long has this been going on between the two of you? Two months? Three?"
"There's nothing going on between us," David said and rang the bell.
"Exactly!" Colby pointed out. "Dude, you need to do something about this, a woman like her isn't going to be available forever!"
"Seems like he's not home," David deliberately changed the subject and peered through the windows.
Colby frowned. He'd thought he'd seen… He turned around and took a couple of steps back to take a closer look at the garage, and found that he'd been right: there was a car inside the garage, he could see it through the small window. "His car's here," he informed his partner.
David tilted his head. "Maybe he went for a jog?" he suggested, but didn't sound convinced, and Colby knew they were both thinking the same thing. True, it was very well possible that Rivers was out and hadn't taken his car with him – but it was also very well possible that he was home and just wasn't keen on welcoming federal agents. And given that he was a person of interest in a terrorist investigation, it seemed wiser to assume the worst while trying to figure out his whereabouts.
As if on cue, he and David were both drawing their weapons and started rounding the house. The path on the south side was blocked by thick bushes, so they both took the path that went around the north side of the house. They were keeping low, edging forward carefully, yet swiftly, until they'd reached the corner and had eyes on the back door. There, they saw them: four young people, probably all in their twenties, who had apparently just left the house through the patio door and were now scurrying towards the small gate connecting the property with the neighbors'. There was Rivers, whom Colby recognized from the picture from his driver's license, and three others, two boys and a girl.
"Stop right there! FBI!" David yelled as he and Colby started running after them.
The order didn't bear any effect, so Colby tried again, "Stop!", accompanying the shout by a shot fired into the air.
He and David had reached the gate by now, and when they had, Rivers turned around towards them, but when Colby realized why, when he saw the gun in his hands, it was already too late. The shot rang out, and the fracture of a second later, David's cry of pain was ringing in his ears.
"Stop!" he shouted again, momentarily frozen on the spot, before he continued running after them. The four young people had reached an old black car by now, probably belonging to one of Rivers's guests, and were jumping in. Colby saw Rivers was about to turn around again, but before he could, Colby fired at him. The bullet missed him, hitting the boy standing behind Rivers instead, who cried out and collapsed onto the passenger's seat. Before Colby could fire a second time, Rivers had gotten in on the backseat, and before he'd even closed the door, the car drove off with screeching tires. Just as Colby was aiming at them, trying to shoot them out, he heard another gunshot, and at the same time, a bullet whizzed past his ear. He ducked, and when he tried to aim at the tires once again, the car was gone too far for him to succeed.
"Damn it!" he cursed, but instantly knew that he had more pressing matters to attend to.
He was running back towards the house while dialing 911, waiting impatiently for the call to connect.
"911, what's your emergency?" the operator asked just when Colby had reached David, who was lying on the ground, his eyes closed and breathing heavily. He was holding his shoulder, which, as Colby realized with dismay, was bleeding rather forcefully.
"My partner's been shot," he said, fighting to catch his breath after the chase, and gave them the address. "He's taken a bullet to the shoulder, it's bleeding badly."
As the words were out, he felt his throat close up, and he knew that this time, his troubled breathing had little to do with the chase. Still, he managed to give the operator his name and properly end the conversation that she concluded with the promise that help would be there soon.
"Come on, David, stay with me," he urged his partner and started a frantic search for something to stop his bleeding with. There was nothing, so he took off the T-shirt he was wearing under his jacket and crumpled it to a ball he then held tightly against the hole in David's shoulder. The gesture elicited a soft moan from him, but it was one that sounded far weaker than the outcry Colby would have expected and, in a way, hoped for.
"Come on, dude, keep fighting," he whispered and held his breath when David's eyes fluttered open. For a few seconds, his gaze was unsteady and unfocused, but then it settled on Colby.
"Don't you dare leave me hanging here," Colby warned him, feeling that his throat was dry, the scratching being so uncomfortable that it threatened to bring tears to his eyes. "You know I can't go through all these reports without you."
David's eyes slowly slid shut again, without so much as a hint that he'd noticed the attempt at humor in Colby's words, or even heard the words themselves.
"No, no, no, no, no," Colby whispered frantically, trying to rouse his friend again. "Come on, David, open your eyes!"
There was no reaction.
"Damn it!" Colby cursed again and pressed his T-shirt more tightly against the wound. Yet, he could feel that the blood was still oozing from it, still leaving David's body, along with the strength that he needed to survive.