A/N: So this has become the longest story I have ever written! Thanks so much for sticking by it! It is coming to an end, maybe four or five chaps left. Thanks to all the readers and reviewers! I hope you enjoy!
They were silent waiting for Marshall Thorton to appear. They had already formulated the best approach to question the convict in the car, and even though Brennan disapproved, she knew they were going to cut a deal with him.
The door swung open and Marshall strode in, a serious guard behind him. He sat down at the table, but not before thoroughly checking out Brennan.
She suppressed a shiver and instead looked back at him with a steely gaze.
"Marshall." Booth said calmly.
" I was wonderin' when the feds were gonna come." Marshall replied.
"Why were you wondering that?" Booth asked.
"Give me a break." Marshall snorted. "You're here about Pete, right?"
"What do you know about Pete?"
"Uh, uh." Marshall said, wagging his finger. "Do ya think I'm stupid? I wanna cut a deal first."
"What do you want?" Brennan asked.
"Who are you?" he said, turning his gaze towards her. "You are too damn good looking to be FBI. I mean, really. Look at your…"
"Focus, Marshall." Booth said sharply.
"She's your girl Fed?" Marshall asked. "Okay I get it, I'll back off. And full immunity, that's what I want."
Now it was Booth's turn to snort. "Immunity?" he asked. "You have got to be kidding me! If you have that good of information, you would have given it up long ago."
Marshall's expression turned serious and his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't be givin' it to you now." He said. "He's got all these people under his thumb." His eyes flicked toward the guard and back again.
"Excuse me?" Booth said, gesturing for the guard. "Can you leave please?"
"I'm sorry, it's against policy." The guard replied.
"I'm FBI. I will have no problem handling him. Now you can just step out of the room for a few minutes or we can wake the warden from his nap and have him handle it." Booth said.
"Fine." The guard muttered, moving outside the room.
"What's going on Marshall?" Booth asked.
Marshall glanced at the door again and then started to speak.
"So Petey becomes my cellmate in June. He was in for murder but she sure didn't look the type. Too clean cut if you know what I mean. Sorta like you." he said, gesturing to Booth.
"But he was paranoid as hell. Kept looking over his shoulder and such. Once caught 'im looking for cameras in the cell. Anyway this goes on for a few days until I finally ask him what's up.
He comes out with this whole story about how he's a Fed, but dealing on the side. Small time shit, nothing too big. This rival dealer's in his way so he shoots him, right? Thinking the Feds will back him up.
Wrong. They send him to the slammer. Now he was worried cuz his drug buddies probably thought he was spilling secrets to the Feds."
"So far you haven't told me anything I don't already know." Booth commented.
"Hold your horses, fed! What about my deal?"
"You're kidding me right? I don't think you have anything." Booth said.
"Not even a tape?" Marshall replied, grinning. Brennan's head snapped up and she leaned forward on the table.
"What's on the tape?" she asked.
"Oh, now you're interested." Marshall said. "Listen, I just want to leave jail. I won't still another dime and I've been off drugs for years. I just want to leave. Spend the rest of my days on a beach somewhere."
"I will do the best I can." Booth replied. "I can't promise you more than that. At the very least, your sentence can be reduced."
Marshall was silent for a few minutes, considering the possibility. Finally he leaned forward and spoke.
"What have I got to lose right?" he said. "But I want protection too."
"Protection from what?" Brennan asked.
"From what I am about to tell you." Marshall replied.
"Fine." Booth stated. "Tell us. But you will have to testify, got it?"
Marshall nodded. "Does it get back at the Feds?" he asked. "Cuz I hate the feds. Excusing you of course, miss." He said, grinning at Brennan.
"If you hate the Feds then why are you talking to me?" Booth asked, feeling wary.
"It was time." Marshall replied simply. "Besides the other feds who came and questioned me were lying, I could see it in their face. You, I think you might get me what I asked for."
Booth nodded. "Okay, continue."
"So, Petey's rambling on and such and I'm not really listening but my ears perk up when I hear about this other fed. Apparently he was the real deal if you know what I mean. It was him who got Petey into the drug business in the first place.
Petey explains that after he shot the guy, this guy was one of the only ones who stood up for him. Lou, his name was."
"Is there a last name that goes with that?" Booth asked.
"Nope." Marshall replied. "All I know is that Petey was scared of Lou. I guess Lou was this hot shot Fed who everyone loved. Petey said he was going to be on the fast track. To what, I don't know.
So Petey starts getting real chatty cuz he's scared and such and tells me all about Lou. But Petey was smarter than you would think because he tape recorded some of his conversations with Lou so that if anyone found out what he was doing, he could take Lou down with him."
Marshall stopped to take a breath.
Brennan quelled the urge to grab Booth's hand under the table and squeeze it. If they got their hands on the tape, they could identify the FBI agent on the tape. This was their link to all of the murders, including her dads'.
"Have you heard the tape?" Booth asked.
"Nope, but I know who's on it." Marshall replied. He paused for effect. "Louis Pickard."
Booth's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"
"Stuff that Petey told me, about how Lou acted and dressed and such. A few years ago, we got some tv time and I saw him on tv. All the inmates were booing at the cops and such, but I saw him and the name and his mannerisms just fit." Marshall said.
"What mannerisms?" Booth asked.
"Petey said he was tapping his fingers all the time, almost like a nervous twitch. Always his middle finger to his thumb."
Booth nodded. He had seen him do this before. "Where's the tape?" he asked.
"Pete's got it." Marshall replied. "You find Pete, you find the tape."
"Pete's dead." Brennan said.
Marshall looked disappointed. "You kiddin' right?" he asked.
"And who's Louis Pi.." Brennan started.
"Uh, Bones we will talk about it later." Booth said hastily. "Thanks for the help Marshall. I will see what I can do."
"Really?" Marshall asked. "Thanks man."
Booth and Brennan got up and headed to the door, where the guard came back in and shackled Marshall. Making their way to the car, Brennan was anxious to find out what Booth knew that she didn't. Clearly she missed something because unlike Booth, she had no idea who Louis Pickard was.
They got settled into the car and were a few miles down the road before Brennan opened her mouth to speak. Booth beat her to it though.
"Louis Pickard is the Director of the FBI." He stated grimly.
"Of the whole FBI?" she asked.
He nodded. "I've seen him do that finger tapping thing before. And we get a hold of the tape and it's his voice, then we've got him. It makes sense though. He would have enough power to bribe prison officials to look the other way while Max was taken to Virginia and killed."
"But we don't have the tape." Brennan said. "Basically we are back to square one."
"Not necessarily." Booth replied. "You are forgetting about one important person."
"Who?" she asked.
"Your dad." He said. "He talked to Pete remember? And I bet you anything, he got that tape from him somehow."
"That still doesn't give us an answer, Booth." She replied.
Booth glanced in the rear view mirror and then looked over at her. "What if, when your dad left Russ in that motel room, he left behind something else. Something other than just a letter?"
"You think Russ has the tape?" she asked.
"Makes sense." He replied. "That's why he told Russ to come to D.C. He knew we would find out eventually."
"So what now?"
"Right now we figure out a way to stop the car behind us from tailing us all the way to the lab." He said seriously.
She looked out her mirror and saw that he was right. A dark green sedan was following behind them, not even trying to disguise it. Suddenly, the car sped up and she felt a jolt as the sedan bumped the back of the car.
"They think we know something." She commented.
"We do." Booth said, putting his foot on the accelerator.
Brennan watched as the needle went from 75 to 90 and then to 105. The green sedan matched their speed, finally pulling up almost beside the where she was sitting.
Booth glanced back and saw the windows roll down and a hand with a gun appear.
"Get down!" he shouted to Brennan and he tried to reach for his gun and keep control of the road at the same time.
She ducked her head as she heard bullets hit the metal of the car and suddenly she felt so scared that she was frozen, unable to help Booth in any way. She heard him discharge his weapon over her head and then he cried out in pain. He fired a few more rounds and then the car began to swerve…..