Title: Shall We Play A Game?
Author: FraidyCat
Disclaimer: per diem re all Numb3rs characters and characterizations. The "main hospital" featured in this fanFICTION is a work of FICTION and does not really exist in any location other than my mind.
A/N: This is an INTERACTIVE reader-influenced story. As such, The Cat cannot be blamed for anything. Ever.
And Now, Back To Our Tale…
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Chapter Nine: Slow and Steady
Don caught up with the rest of his team at Bernie's. There were two haz mat vans in front of the diner, along with several police cars; officers were having to control both foot and vehicle traffic. Don had seen David and Colby's car across the street, but had to travel nearly a block beyond the diner before he was able to park himself. He climbed out of the SUV and backtracked on foot to the diner. When he arrived, he was slightly surprised when he recognized Ian Edgarton with Colby and David – the three of them were talking with an overweight man in a tight white t-shirt and white jeans, his belly straining against a white apron. Undoubtedly, the proprietor. Don stopped before he reached the group, at the back of the first haz mat van, and peered inside, flashing his badge. "Anything?"
A technician was sitting in the back of the van. Samples from inside the diner would have some tests performed here, on the spot. They would then be transported to a lab for further testing. The woman looked up, and spoke from behind a mask, shaking her head. "We've got nothing," she informed him. "I don't know – this guy passed his inspection with no trouble less than a month ago. How good is your intel, anyway?"
"Just do what the CDC asked you to do," retorted Don, a little stung. He backed away from the van and located his team again on the sidewalk in front of the diner. They were no longer talking to the owner. David and Colby were talking to each other; Ian stood a few feet to the left of them, staring morosely at his feet. Ever since the Crystal Hoyle incident, before Megan had quit and moved to D.C., the air was always slightly charged between the two men, and Don approached warily.
He stood between Ian and his agents. He lifted his chin in greeting. "Edgarton."
Ian looked up, and his eyes crinkled in a smile; a strained smile, but still, a smile. "Eppes. Sorry to hear about Charlie."
Don nodded once. "Thanks." He glanced at Granger. "Wright wants a sniper on this?"
Edgarton snickered, and Don looked back. Ian held up a hand. "I'm not here in my 'official' capacity, Eppes."
Sinclair entered the conversation. "He just showed up at the office and volunteered to work on the case – wherever we need him."
Don, still watching Ian, raised an eyebrow but didn't say a word.
Edgarton sighed, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He took half a step closer to the group. "Look," he said, addressing mostly Don, "I know a lot about Planet Green. After…the armory…I was on administrative leave for awhile. Even after my kill shots were justified, it took me a few weeks to get myself together. While I was off, I was pretty heavily researching the movement."
"Was it your first kill?" Colby asked softly.
Ian shook his head. "Nah. Never really figured out why this one hit me as hard as it did. Maybe because the kids were so young." He glanced at Don, again. "Bradford didn't really help me much with that."
Don was surprised again. "You've seen Bradford? As a patient?"
Edgarton laughed. "Come on, Eppes. I mean, dealing with your issues is probably a full time job for him now, but back then he was a department shrink. Lots of us have seen him."
Colby and David took care to look only at each other while they smiled, but Don had the good grace to be chagrined. "Yeah, yeah," he grinned. "So who's the guy you were interviewing when I got here?"
Colby answered for all of them, frowning slightly. "Bernie. Listen, Don, I don't know if this means anything, but he said that when he got here this morning all the milk was gone."
Don furrowed his brow. "What?"
David confirmed Colby's report. "Ice cream, too," he added, "although he didn't discover that until after the incident."
"Which was…?" Don prompted.
"The lead waitress, sort-of a quasi manager…" -- Colby looked at his notebook – "… 'Sarah Davis'. He got into it with her because she let the place run out of milk. He claims she physically assaulted him, and then quit." He looked up from the notebook. "And get this – she's only worked here for about three weeks. He said she had good references, but they were all out of town. Don, if Planet Green put her here, anybody in the organization could have been set up as her references."
"Plus," David added, "he said she wanted overtime. Worked all three meals – just took a couple of hours off in the afternoons. She's worked six-days-a-week since she was hired, and only took Sundays off because the diner was closed."
Don looked at Ian. "Your research find a 'Sarah'?"
Edgarton shrugged. "If she was a plant for Planet Green, she wouldn't use her real name. Hell, she probably hasn't used it for years – may not even remember it. He's going to come down and look at the mug shots we've compiled of known PG operatives, and see if he can recognize her."
Don nodded. "Good," he started, but was interrupted by the vibration of the phone he'd been carrying in his pocket ever since he broke the clip on the back of the case. He pulled it from his jeans and brought the cell to his ear. "Eppes."
"Havercamp," returned Lee.
Don glanced at his watch. Almost 10 a.m., now. "Have you landed already?"
"No," she answered, "I'm calling from the aircraft. Where are you?"
"The suspected location," Don said wearily, "but it's clean so far. They tell me this guy just passed his inspection clean less than a month ago."
Havercamp's reply was clipped, businesslike. "I've got something," she said, and Don perked up but remained silent. "The hospital with the fatality last night – St. Michael's – there's been another. A young girl, around two hours ago." Don closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed. Charlie was in St. Michael's. He almost missed some of Havercamp's report, an odd buzzing suddenly in his ears, but eventually it cleared. "…cororner's office is on it now," she was concluding. "I've had Atlanta fax them a list of the top bacteria on our bioterrorism 'watch list': Anthrax, the Plague, Brucella – they'll be trying to rule those out, first."
Don felt Colby watching him and glanced in his direction in time to see the junior agent rub his forehead, as if he had a headache. Don made a connection and his eyes widened. "Ice cream," he said into the phone.
Havercamp waited half a beat. "I beg your pardon?"
Don, walking back toward the haz mat van, almost cut her off. "Listen, I gotta find somebody. Call me when you land."
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She didn't have a car.
It was too much of a hassle when you were under – things like licenses, insurance, simple traffic tickets; they could ruin everything. So she and most of the other Planet Green leadership stuck to public transportation.
There was plenty of membership that still lived in the world, however. Guilt-ridden pseudo-revolutionaries that supported them financially from their establishment paychecks. Like Andi. Andi had lived with them in the commune, sleeping with both Cracker and Joe, until she caught wind of the Presidio plans. Then she had run like a scared little girl, unwilling to place herself in the line of fire should something go wrong – which it unfortunately did. Andi had maintained clandestine contact, however, and was a good resource now. She had shared Joe with Sarah. She had posed as one of Sarah's references when she had been planted at Bernie's. She passed Sarah a couple of hundred whenever they met. She could help now; if Cracker hadn't gotten to her first.
It was dangerous, just showing up at Andi's place of employment. Andi's "former" ties with Planet Green were known; since the communicade, they were probably watching her. This is why they had the prepaid cells. Calls could not be traced.
It took Andi too long to answer, and she sounded scared when she did. Only Planet Green people called her on this cell, so she knew when it sounded in the bottom of her purse who it was. Early that morning, after the F.B.I. agents had questioned her, trying to determine PG's current location, she had considered throwing the phone away. Now, she wished she had. What if it had sounded off earlier, alerting her coworkers to its existence? It was just dumb luck that she had taken a ridiculously early lunch hour. Although the visit of the F.B.I. was brief, and she had little difficulty convincing them that she hadn't seen or heard of anyone related to Planet Green since before the Presidio incident two years before, it had shaken her to the core. This was why she had left in the first place; she liked her normal life. Working and living and spending more money than she should, just like everyone else. She didn't have it in her, the Angela Davis gene – she could never live as Sarah, Cracker, Dawn and the others did. She had been foolish to maintain clandestine contact with them, to support them financially. She let the call go to voice mail – but there was another, immediately after. She let that one go as well.
Finally, the third time in five minutes that the phone began to trill, she picked up. Others at the outdoor café were looking at her over their mid-morning cups of coffee, so not answering the cell was calling more attention to her than answering it would. "Yes?" Andi whispered into the phone.
"I need your help." Sarah's low voice floated over the phone and Andi squeezed it a little tighter. "Cracker cut me loose."
Andi's eyes widened. She certainly hadn't been expecting that. "What?"
"I need money," Sarah continued. "As much as you can spare."
Andi shook her head even though Sarah could not see her. "We can't meet. They've sent people to talk to me already."
"Drop it at the usual place. I need enough for a car. Or cabfare; I need to follow someone."
Andi remembered Sarah as one of the most fanatical; especially after Joe's death. She fervently hoped Sarah wasn't coming after her. She thought quickly, knowing that coming to Sarah's aid now would be an insurance policy, of sorts. "I can get 500," she finally said. "I'm on my lunch break now. I can have it there within the hour."
"Make sure you're not followed," Sarah warned. "If you pick up a tail, try again after work."
Andi let her gaze roam over the horizon, searching for men in suits. She swallowed thickly, and hung up the phone.
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Charlie was awakened for lunch by a pert young thing who was sticking something in his ear. He moaned, and tried to roll away, craving more sleep. The nurse withdrew the thermometer and chirped brightly. "Time for lunch, Dr. Eppes! We have lime gelatin, a lovely beef broth, and a simply divine cranberry juice. Would you care for anything else?"
Charlie blinked up at her and frowned. "I want a ribeye," he answered. "Why won't you people feed me?"
She smiled and pushed a button on the side bed panel, and the head of the bed began to slowly raise. "Just a precaution, just a precaution."
"But I'm hungry," he glared, as he floated to a 60-degree angle in the bed.
"As soon as the doctor changes your orders, I can get you something else," she soothed. "Let's try and get this temperature down, shall we?"
Charlie picked up the cranberry juice and took a sip, then returned it to the tray. "What do you expect me to do about it?"
She clucked in reprimand as he ignored the rest of his…lunch. "Plenty of fluids, Dr. – you know the drill."
He reached reluctanty for the spoon. "I'm not that kind of doctor," he sulked.
She smiled brightly again and ignored him. "Drink up, now. If your fever doesn't increase, I'll be getting you up for a while this afternoon – how does that sound?"
"Great," mumbled Charlie after blowing on his spoonful of broth to cool it. "Put me in a wheelchair so I can roll down to McDonald's® and get some food."
She laughed and turned to leave, just as Don and Lt. Havercamp appeared in the doorway. "Ah, you have visitors! Perhaps they can improve your mood!" She scribbed something on a scrap of paper, shoved it in her pocket and squeezed past them to exit. "I expect that all gone when I get back!" she called from the doorway.
Charlie looked pleadingly at Don. "Did you bring me any food?"
Lee Havercamp answered for him. "I'll speak with your doctor before I leave and see if we can't bump it up a notch. Now that we know what we're dealing with…"
Charlie interrupted, having finally truly focused on Havercamp. "Lee? Lee Havercamp?" The spoon clattered to the tray and he looked again at Don. This time fear was apparent in his eyes. "Oh, this so cannot be good."