"All right! Real food!" Don rubbed his hands together as the tray was placed in front of him.

Rosie from food services grinned at Don. "Well, Son, it's nice to see you're feeling up to eating today."

Don noticed the confused expressions on Charlie and Alan's faces. "Rosie and I are old friends. She talked me into eating while you two were down in the emergency room. Rosie, this is my dad, Alan, and my brother, Charlie."

"Well, it's nice to meet both of you." She put Charlie's tray on his table. "You're looking chipper. You had your big brother pretty worried last time I saw him. He said it was okay if I prayed for you."

Charlie smiled, shaking his head, "You know, they've done studies about the effect of prayer, and the most recent studies have debunked..."

Alan interrupted him. "Charlie, don't be rude. Rosie, that was very sweet of you, and we appreciate it."

Charlie gave Rosie a sheepish grin. "We do appreciate it, Rosie. Thank you."

"That's better," Alan nodded. "Charlie's brain runs on numbers, not on faith."

"That's okay," Rosie chuckled as she pushed the cart towards the door. "I ain't gonna stop because of any numbers. I guess you could say my brain runs on faith, not on numbers. You two gents enjoy your dinners. Alan, the cafeteria has some very good stew today."

Alan stood. "I think I'll go check it out. Tomorrow I'll have to go back to cooking for these two. Might as well enjoy my last night out."

"Hey, there's no reason we can't get takeout when we get home," Charlie held his fork awkwardly in his left hand. "Pizza would be good. Something that doesn't require utensils."

"I was thinking Chinese," Don laughed, "I want to see you using chopsticks with your left hand."

"You're a cruel, cruel man," Charlie said. "Dad, make Donnie stop picking on me."

"You're on your own there, Son. I'm on my break now." Alan waved as he left the room.

Once Alan was gone, Charlie slipped his right arm out of the sling. Don scowled. "You sure that's a good idea, Buddy? You don't want to make your arm worse."

Charlie shrugged. "I know, but if I try to eat with my left hand, it's gonna be a mess."

"It looked to me like you were doing okay. You don't usually give up like that. I thought you were going to use this as research for your whole math of the brain thing."

Charlie sighed. "You're right." He slipped his arm back into the sling, wincing. "Actually, it shouldn't be that hard to retrain my brain to do things left handed."

"Yeah, Buddy, with your brain, it should be a cinch."

Charlie watched Don for a moment. "How are you doing, Don? You feeling okay?"

"Yeah. Sore, you know? And weak, like a baby. But I'll be fine. Why?"

Charlie swallowed a mouthful of mixed vegetables. "It was all pretty scary. When Rosie mentioned you being worried when I was in the ER, well, it kind of brought everything back. We both had close calls, didn't we?"

Don stirred his mashed potatoes. "Yeah, we did." He turned to Charlie, pain in his eyes, "I mean, with my job, I kind of expect it, you know? But you? This shouldn't be happening to you, Buddy."

"Well, the closer I get to your work, the more at risk I am."

"Maybe you shouldn't..."

"Don't even think about it. You're stuck with me, Bro."

"Dad's handling it better than I expected."

Charlie chuckled. "Yeah. Remember when he freaked out when those Charm School Boys shot you?"

"Oh, right, Dad freaked out. I seem to remember you going off the deep end for a while there."

"Yeah, I guess I did," Charlie grinned sheepishly. "But I've gotten better at handling it, you know?" He picked up a roll and glanced at the butter. "Now this will be an interesting task one-handed."

Don laughed. "Why don't you write an algorithm or something for it?" When Charlie glared at him, Don continued, "Or you could get up out of bed, bring it to me, and I could butter it for you."

Charlie pushed his bedside table aside and eased himself out of bed, hissing when his feet hit the floor.

"You okay, Buddy?"

"The floor's cold." He picked up the butter and roll in his left hand, he walked to Don's side. "Hurry, my feet are freezing."

Don split the roll and buttered it. "You're welcome," he said, grinning, as he handed the roll back.

"Thanks!" Charlie said, hurrying back to bed.

--

Alan brought his tray to an empty table in the corner of the hospital cafeteria. He had picked up today's Pasadena Star-News and settled down to eat his stew and read the sports page, when his cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Alan! How are the boys doing?"

"Hi, Millie! They're doing fine. They're both coming home tomorrow morning."

"That's wonderful! How are you holding up?"

"Not bad. Actually, I'm getting kind of tired of living here at the hospital. I'm looking forward to getting my two invalids home."

"Has the FBI managed to round up the gang that did all this?"

"Not yet. It looks like they're getting closer, though. Charlie has been finding some more clues. I'm sorry to say three of your students are involved."

"I know. I feel bad about listening to their complaints against him. I feel like I contributed to their evil plan or something."

"You didn't have any choice, Millie. You had to pursue the charges."

"I know, but I can feel bad anyway. What time do you think you'll be home? I know some of Charlie's friends want to stop by and say hello. And, yes," she added with a chuckle, "he does have friends on the faculty other than Professors Ramanujan and Fleinhardt."

Alan laughed, "I never doubted it. They haven't really told us what time we'll be out of here, but they did say morning."

"All right! I'll spread the word. Is there anything I can do to help you boys?"

"Nothing I can think of. Thank you for everything you've done, Millie. I know you've had to juggle Charlie's classes around."

"The worst part was dealing with the students who signed up for his classes for HIM and not necessarily for the subject matter."

"Oh, no! Not again?"

"No, not again. Most of them are girls who seem to find your younger son irresistible. I don't think he'll be at any physical risk from them."

"And I have a feeling Amita will be protecting him from their more amorous attacks."

Millie laughed. "You know, Alan, I had my doubts about those two getting involved when I first took over the department. But I do think they have a very nice thing going. Are we going to be having a wedding any time soon?"

Alan held his hand over his heart, "Don't jinx it, Millie! I'm sure they'll settle down when they're ready."

"I'm sure. Say, Alan, I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'll see you Millie!"

When Alan returned to the room, Don and Charlie had finished eating their dinner. Charlie was working on his computer, and Don was sitting next to him, watching the screen.

"Working on the case?" Alan asked as he entered.

Charlie chuckled. "Playing Chain Factor. I'm trying to show Don the most mathematically expedient way of arranging the balls."

"But speaking of the case," Don looked up from the screen, "David called. A kid with a gun was waiting for Ben and Maggie when they got home."

"Oh my God!" Alan exclaimed. "Are they all right? Did they catch the kid?"

"No, but they know who it was," Don stood slowly and eased the kinks out of his back.

Charlie chewed on his lower lip. "It was one of the three students who are involved with the gang. Liz and Colby are keeping track of their cell phone usage, so it's only a matter of time before they find them."

Alan gestured at the computer. "And you don't feel the need to do some pursuit curve thing or something?"

Charlie shrugged. "To be honest, I do have a program running in the background."

"Yeah, Dad," Don hobbled back to his bed. "He's like a terrier with a bone. He's not going to let go."

"And that's a bad thing?" Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"Not at all, Buddy." Don eased himself back into bed. "Not at all."

--

The next morning, Alan arrived in the hospital room with a bag of fresh clothes for his boys to wear for their homecoming.

Don pulled out a pair of black sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt. "Sweats? Oh, come on, Dad!"

"Donnie, I know you love your tight jeans, but I think they'd better wait until you've healed, don't you?"

With a dramatic sigh, Don nodded. "I suppose you're right." He took the clothes, along with clean underwear and headed for the bathroom. He ran his hand through his damp hair. "At least I feel human after hitting the shower."

Alan crossed the room and handed Charlie the bag. "You, my son, were a little luckier. Though I'm still not sure if you can manage the buttons. But I can help you with that."

Charlie pulled out the jeans and button down shirt. "No tee shirt?"

"And how would you pull a tee shirt over your head?" Alan scrutinized his younger son. "You need help with your hair?"

Charlie ran his left hand through his curls. "Nah. It's almost dry, and I'm not planning on impressing anybody today. I just want to get home and fight over the couch with Don."

Alan laughed. "I'm sure you'll work it out. Maybe you can come up with some mathematical way of determining a fair distribution of the furniture." Turning serious, Alan said, "Any word from David yet about those three students of yours?"

Charlie shook his head. "No. David sent me some of the phone GPS locations, and I set up a program to help them try to predict their movements."

"Really? I was just reading an article the other day about law enforcement agencies using cell phone GPS chips and the enhanced 911 system to track down suspects. Apparently there are those who are concerned about the invasion of privacy."

"David is not one to cut corners, Dad. I'm sure his warrant was in order. Especially in LA," Charlie added with a grin, "Judges are a little less inclined to give law enforcement a carte blanche."

"And with good reason! 'Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.'"

"Ben Franklin?"

"Most likely. Two hundred years later the jury's still out on who first said that. But it's an important thing to remember, don't you think?"

Charlie pondered for a moment, then said, "I guess it depends on whether you're the guy whose safety is involved or the guy whose liberty is being infringed upon."

"Speaking of safety, did your program show whether those boys were anywhere near our house?"

"No. The last I heard, they were downtown. Two near the Don's office, and one near the LAPD headquarters. Don't worry. Don's team will get them."

"It's odd that they haven't tracked them down before now."

Charlie shrugged. "It's not that unusual. They're all from out of town, so they don't have family nearby, and their friends are all pretty much tied to CalSci. So the standard methods of tracking them down wouldn't be of much use. And LA is a pretty big city. It's kind of like looking for a needle in a haystack."

Alan nodded at Charlie's computer. "And nobody does it better." The bathroom door opened. "Hey, Donnie, you're looking more like your old self."

Don walked slowly to the chair next to his bed. He sat gingerly. "You were right about the sweats, Dad. I was thinking of stopping by the office on the way home..."

"That's not on the way," Charlie stood, picking up his clothes. "Besides, I was just telling Dad that my program shows two of the students are near your office. However, my office is..." he glanced hopefully at his father.

"No," Alan said, "I am the driver, and as such, it is my decision whether to stop. And I have decided that we are going straight home. Why not just have Amita bring you whatever you need?"

Charlie checked his watch. "She'll be in class now, but I'll call her when we get home. Okay, I'm going to get dressed."

Don looked up from tying his shoe. "Let me know if you need a hand, Buddy."

"Ha ha." Charlie said as he closed the bathroom door.

Alan stared at the bathroom door for a moment, and then turned to face Don. "Donnie, I know I'm probably acting like an old lady, but I can't help worrying..." as Don started to interrupt, Alan held up his hand and continued, "... Is there any way you could have an agent keep an eye on the two of you until the rest of this gang is out of circulation?"

"Listen, we've got the Agincourts under arrest. With Charlie's program, the FBI techs are narrowing down the search area. They're getting real time data from all three cell phones." He checked his watch. "By the time we get home, David should have all three students under arrest. It's gonna be okay, Dad. Besides, I'll be armed and I'm not a total invalid, you know."

Alan sighed. "All right. But if they're not under arrest by tonight, I'm going to call David myself and get an agent assigned to keep an eye on you two."

"Deal. Now, where the heck is the nurse with our discharge papers?"

Charlie opened the bathroom door. "Well, I got most of the buttons." He waved his left arm, showing Alan his unbuttoned cuff. "I could use a hand with this one, though."

As Alan buttoned the cuff, Andrea and Mary entered the room. Andrea held up a sheaf of papers. "I heard a rumor someone in here is ready to leave us."

--

David paced as Tom Yang entered the latest data into Charlie's program. He looked up as Colby and Liz entered. "We've almost got it."

"Good," Liz said. "We've got teams ready to pick them up. Have you talked to Don yet this morning?"

"Yeah," David stopped his pacing. "He and Charlie are pretty anxious to get out of there. I told him I'd call when we finished up with these guys."

"Agent Sinclair," Tom said, "I've got locations on all three phones."

"How accurate?"

"Thirty to forty foot radius." Tom pressed a button and a map of downtown LA was projected on the screen behind the agents. "There you go," he pointed at the screen. "These two circles are the locations. Two phones are together here," he pointed to a location about ten blocks from the FBI headquarters. "Daniel Weimar and Jason LoBella. They're moving, apparently by foot, heading in a northerly direction. The third phone, Greg Spencer, is here," he pointed to the second circle, "about five blocks from LAPD headquarters. He's also on foot, heading west."

"All right," David said, "Colby, Liz, you guys get your team and take the two near here. I'll take my team to pick up the third. Tom, keep us updated."

David pulled over to the curb, scanning the pedestrians filling the sidewalks. Agent Mike Florea opened the passenger door and shook his head, "You'd think with so many cars and so many freeways the friggin' sidewalks would be empty. This looks like friggin' New York City."

David laughed, "You're right. Listen, Tom says he should be within forty feet of us. He's got him still heading west." He straightened his sport coat as he and the other three agents got out of the SUV. "Let's try not to be too conspicuous. You all know what he looks like. Let's try to take him quietly."

Mike chuckled, "Darn. I was hoping for a good old fashioned foot chase."

"Tell you what. If he runs, you get to chase him."

The four agents, sunglasses concealing the fact that their eyes never stopped moving, looked like four businessmen on their way to a meeting. Tom's voice came from David's earphone. "Agent Sinclair, I've got you. You're practically on top of him."

"Thirty feet?" David murmured.

"I'd say closer. You should be able to see him."

David scrutinized the pedestrians around him. "I don't see him."

"You want me to ring his phone? It'll show as an unlisted number, so he won't suspect anything."

"Sure. Go for it. I hope he doesn't have it on vibrate."

David heard a cell phone ringing about ten feet ahead of him. He signaled his team and started to jog toward the sound. A teenager stopped, and pulled a phone from his jeans pocket. "Yeah?... Who's this?... Tom? I don't know any Tom... Yeah, you're damned right you got a wrong number... Next time..."

David grabbed the teen's arm. "FBI. Let me take that call."

"What the...?!" The kid struggled, but stopped when Mike and the other two agents stepped in front of him. He handed the phone to David.

"Tom?"

"Agent Sinclair. You've got Greg Spencer's phone."

"Unfortunately, I don't have Greg Spencer."