- - - - -
"It's just basic triangulation, really. Simple application of sine law."
"Yeah, Charlie," Megan grinned at the equation-covered board. "It looks real simple."
"No, really. See- if SinA equals h over b, and SinB equals h over a, then h equals b times the quantity SinA and a equals the quantity SinA. Then we can-"
Don poked his head in suddenly. "Am I interrupting something?"
"Just Charlie trying to help me get the hang of something I've been horrible at since ninth grade," Megan said, wincing apologetically.
"Trigonometry is always complicated, Agent Reeves, there is no- no shallow end to the study of three-sided polygons."
Megan just laughed. Don looked around the room. "Did Larry stop by?"
"Oh yeah. He had a class to get to, though, so he left like ten minutes ago. Guess you just missed him." She turned around, noticing for the first time the expression on his face. "What's up, Don?"
"Uh, Charlie can I borrow Megan real quick?"
"Yeah sure-" Charlie stared at him, recognizing the tense lines around his eyes. "Don…what is it?"
"Nothing, don't worry about it. I'll be back in a bit." Charlie just nodded and watched Megan go. But he didn't go back to his whiteboard.
- - - - -
"I found the connection."
David shook his head. "Between…the three bombings?"
Don tossed Charlie's planner onto his desk and David picked it up, paging through it. "Amita made reservations for her and Charlie at the Cajun restaurant for 7pm on April 16th. She canceled it and Charlie stayed home that night."
Megan put a hand to her cheek. "How did they know-"
"They stole that," Don pointed to the planner in David's hands. "It went missing a few weeks ago, then reappeared in Charlie's basement. Dad found it."
"Hang on," Colby cut in. "That doesn't explain the grocery store. I mean, you said, your family shops at a completely different store."
Don shook his head. "Bad luck. They got the wrong store, but Charlie scheduled a trip into town on the 12th."
David read out loud, "April 12th, drycleaners for D, car inspect., grocery run Kroger's…the grocery store hit was a Kroger's."
"Actually, it's called 'Kroger' not 'Kroger's', but that isn't the store Charlie was referring to. Aldama Street Market, out by Highland Parks, that's store we've been going to since we were kids. Owned by a guy named Victor Kroger."
Colby shook his head in wonder. "So they misread his schedule, Amita canceled their dinner, he got sick the day of his lecture…man. Charlie's the luckiest man alive."
"Not exactly," Megan said, meeting Don's eyes and seeing the same thoughts there. "Means whoever we're after, they set off those bombs with the intention to kill."
David dropped the planner back onto the table. "Who would want to kill Charlie? What could-" But he stopped suddenly, staring at something over Don's shoulder.
Don turned around. Charlie was standing just a few feet behind him. "Charlie-" But Charlie spun on his heel as though someone had fired a shot at him, and ran for the door. "Charlie!" Don called after him, then turned back around and pointed to Megan. "I want him in protective custody tonight." Without another word, he snatched up his coat and took off after his brother.
Megan glanced up at Colby who looked over at David. David just tapped the toe of shoe against the floor, thinking. Finally, he looked up. "Let's get on it."
- - - - -
"Charlie?" Don stopped outside, looking up and down the sidewalks that led from the FBI's front doors. He didn't see anyone at first, then he noticed somebody in a suit jacket and blue jeans disappearing around the corner to his right. He took off at a run and turned the corner to find Charlie standing on the curb. He looked as though he'd meant to call a cab but had forgotten how.
"Charlie!" Don ran up to him, grabbing him by the arms.
"Ow- Don," Charlie tensed, but more-or-less let his brother hustle him down the sidewalk and back inside to the FBI's lobby.
"What were you thinking, man?" Don demanded once they were inside. "Running off like that, in the open? What's wrong with you? You can't just go off alone right now, don't you get that?"
"Don't I get that someone's trying to kill me?" Charlie demanded shakily. "Yeah, yeah I get it. It's very clear, okay?"
There was a long pause. Don straightened the wrinkles he'd left in his brother's jacket. "Listen…I didn't mean for you to find out that way."
"Oh, so you were going to tell me."
"Hey, that's not fair. I have been very honest with you."
"Yeah, yeah I know-" Charlie said tightly, pressing his knuckles to his forehead and ducking his head.
Don watched him carefully. "You okay?"
"I don't feel very…my head's sort of spinning." He groped the air beside him, looking for a support.
"Okay, okay…" Don grabbed the flailing arm and directed him across the lobby to a chair in the waiting area, seating him gently down. "Just take it easy, all right?"
"No, no it's not all right," Charlie insisted, bracing his hands on his knees. Don put an arm over the back of his chair and let him talk. "Someone's trying to kill me, Don. Kill me." He seemed to have trouble making the words sink in. "Someone out there is determined to get rid of me, somehow, and I…I- I don't know why, or how or…" His voice started to shake, and he fell silent.
Don couldn't think of anything to say at first. Finally, he inched a little closer, his voice taking on a jovial tone that surprised them both. "Hey, you remember old Mrs. Delkin? In seventh grade?"
Charlie glanced at him. "Yeah, she…taught World History."
"It was the first class of the school year, and I, as usual, was determined to be this total wise-guy. I mean, I knew I was going to end up in the principle's office again, but apparently I had too big a head to care. What was uh- that quote from Einstein, the definition of insanity…?"
"Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
"Yeah, that was…me." Don laughed and the first sign of a smile showed on Charlie's tired face. "And uh…I think Mrs. Delkin kept me after class for like- three weeks straight…?"
"You said that she hated you."
"And you remember what you told me?" Charlie just looked at him. "You said, 'she's just jealous cause you're so funny'." He smiled. "I think that was the most flattering remark I ever got from my whiz kid brother. Never forgot it."
"What are you saying Don," Charlie asked quietly, the smile disappearing. "That I should be flattered these guys want me dead?"
"Sometimes…stories don't have a point, bro," Don told him, standing up and offering a hand. Charlie took it and stood. "Sometimes you just bend spaghetti. Right?"
- - - - -
Don came back to the group at a stride. Megan stood up. "How is he?"
"About as good as you'd expect," Don said quietly. "You guys got anything?"
David hung up his phone. "Just talked to Hummel, not a fingerprint, footprint or any other kind of lead."
"All right, thanks for checking. Megan, you talk to boys at the safe house yet?"
"Ten minutes ago, they can extract him whenever you're ready."
"Well I promised Charlie he could work late, so I'll oversee that tonight."
Colby ran up to them and handed a folder to Don. "Janitor's uniform, the one from the dumpsters? It's not a prison uniform, wrong material and stitching style, apparently. Also the numbers written on the front pocket don't register with either of the LA prison facilities."
"Okay, so officially nuke the gang theory. What about the interrogations, you guys talk to our museum guys again?"
"Yeah, about that…" Megan glanced at Colby. "We've now received official requests from all three lawyers."
"They're all asking for a release, ASAP, before they have to 'take it to court'," Colby finished, scowling.
"Well Jim's not going anywhere," Don said firmly, "we have physical evidence connecting him to this case."
"Yeah," Megan agreed, "but I still don't like the idea of putting any of those thugs back on the street. Especially since we don't know their motivation for going after Charlie of all people."
"Then that's something we need to ascertain, and fast."
Megan watched him. "You want me to talk to Charlie?"
Don shook his head. "He wants to try and figure this out with another game theory diagram, and I want to give him the shot."
Colby spoke up. "Didn't he all ready try to use game theory?"
"He's doing it on himself this time, trying to assess what possible motives our boys may have had for targeting him."
"You sure he's up to that?" David asked quietly. "The work?"
"To be honest," Don stood up and tossed the forensics report onto the desk. "I think the work's the only thing holding him together right now."
- - - - -
FBI Headquarters, Briefing Room C, 12:46 am
Don stood in the doorway for awhile, watching Charlie work. Normally his brother would be scrambling from the board to the desk regularly, eyes darting through his equations, marker constantly squeaking. Like he was painting or composing a concerto. Alive with excitement, vigor for the work. He was still moving as fast as ever, but there wasn't excitement of any kind about him. He kept stopping to run a hand through his hair or pinch the bridge of his nose and squeeze his eyes shut tiredly.
Finally he did something Don had never seen him do before (write the number 3 backwards, erase it and then rewrite it backwards) and Don decided it was time to intervene. He knocked on the wall next to him and Charlie jerked around like someone had tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey," Don nodded at him. "Thought I'd let you know, the boys from WITSEC are going to be heading over here any minute, so…if you want to get your stuff together-"
"I'm not going to the safe house," Charlie said quietly and went back to his whiteboard.
Don sighed impatiently, crossing his arms. "You have to, Charlie."
"No, I don't."
"Yeah, you do- if you wanna stay alive, you do." Charlie turned stiffly around again. "Well, it's true, buddy," Don went on, almost pleadingly. "Look, I hate it but this is the way it's gotta be. Hopefully, it won't be for long. Now, I arranged with Hummel to send some of your stuff over from the house-"
"I'll just work through the night, then."
"No, Charlie-" Don crossed the room and took him by the shoulders. Charlie attempted to turn away, putting his marker defiantly to the board again, but Don grabbed it out of his hand. "Hey, listen, gimme that." He capped the marker and put it down. "Now look, you'll have two around-the-clock agents with you, the house is sealed up, no one can get to you there, that's-" he smiled a little, "that's why the call it safe house. Right?"
Charlie swallowed hard and glanced away. Don realized with a pang of sympathy that he looked like he was about to cry. When he finally spoke, his voice was high and raspy. "Can't uh…can I just crash at your place?"
Don seemed taken aback. He just looked down at him for a long moment, indecision flickering in his eyes. Finally, he furrowed his eyebrows, and said as casually as he could, "Yeah. Okay, sure, you can sleep on my bed, I'll take the sofa."
"I'll have the sofa," Charlie said, and smiled wearily.
Don grinned back. "Okay. Well listen, I'll call WITSEC and then why don't we get something to eat. Wait for Hummel to drop your stuff off."
Charlie cast a tempted glance at his equations. "I should probably keep at it-"
"No way, you're getting out of this stuffy room right now. C'mon." Don marched to the door and turned. Charlie hovered by the whiteboard. "I mean it, Chuck, move it." Grinning enough to satisfy his brother, Charlie trooped out of the room and Don shut the door behind him.
- - - - -
Megan stared at the ceiling for twenty seconds before realizing what had awoken her. She turned over as her phone rang a third time, slapping the alarm clock's indiglo. 1:02 am. Groaning, she grabbed her phone and flipped it open. "Reeves speaking." She sat up. "What…no, they told me- you can't do that. Not without…all right, all right. Yeah. I understand. Thank you for contacting me."
She hung up and sat in the darkness, nibbling absently on the phone's antenna. Then shaking her head, she went to her speed-dial. "Don, it's Megan. You still at the office? I've got some bad news…"
- - - - -
"Yeah…okay…Thanks, Megan. Don't worry, I've got it taken care of. Yeah. See you in the morning."
"Don?" Charlie poked his head inside Don's office door. "What're you doing sitting around in the dark?"
"Just making a call, didn't see the point in turning the lights on."
"Ah. Well, Ted- Ted Hummel?"
"Tad."
"Tad, right. He dropped off a few bags for me, about five minutes ago, so I'm ready to head out when you are."
"Okay, just let me make one more call. I'll be there in a sec." Charlie nodded and ducked back out of the office. Sighing heavily, Don looked up a number on the notebook next to him and dialed it.
"This is Craig Springer."
"Hello Mr. Springer, this is Don Eppes, FBI. I just got the news about Kyle Ross and Ken Dryger's release."
"Ah yes. I apologize for the delay in notification, we got some wires crossed up here-"
"Okay, do you not understand that Kyle confessed? He accepted the charges as an accessory and agreed to assist the FBI in its investigation."
"I understand that, Agent, but we have been contacted by their parents, their schools and their lawyers, and they all say what you all ready know; that you cannot contain them without physical evidence. And Kyle withdrew his confession, did he not?"
"Yeah-"
"And he never made an official statement."
"Yes, but we do have physical evidence against Jim Blake."
"Jim Blake is to remain in federal custody until this case is solved and he is either convicted or exonerated."
"But Kyle and Ken were found with Jim and ran from FBI agents-"
"The students had school-approved passes for a study trip to the museum at which they were apprehended. They saw men with guns come running after them, they bolted. Your case just isn't concrete, Agent Eppes, and I think you know that. You can take them into custody for resisting, you cannot incarcerate them on a hunch." Don stopped, at a loss. He heard Craig Springer sigh on the other end. "I'm sorry there isn't more we can do to assist the FBI in their investigation, but legally you cannot hold those boys any longer."
"Even if we have suspicions that there is a colleague of theirs on the loose to whom they will probably return? The life of an esteemed mathematician, a great asset to the FBI, is at risk now."
"Then I don't understand why I just got a call from Witness Protection telling me you sent their team back to base. Agent Eppes, if you're really, truly concerned that these two boys are a threat to your professor, then you really should let WITSEC do their job."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Springer, but I can't do that."
"Then you're out of options for complaint, Agent."
- - - - -
Charlie rolled over on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. He could hear light clinking coming from the kitchen and soon Don returned to the living room, a glass in one hand, a mug in the other. "Your ice water, Professor," He said, setting the glass down on the coffee table. Charlie sat up and took a drink, slipping a coaster under it before putting it down again.
He nodded at the mug in Don's hand. "What is that, coffee?" Don shrugged. "You know you shouldn't drink caffeine right before going to bed. You'll be up all night."
"Aw, caffeine never affected me much anyway." Charlie gave him raised eyebrows and Don shook a defensive finger at him. "Hey that's not fair. I was ten, okay? I'd never had anything that strong before."
"Okay," Charlie mouthed and lay back down, smiling. But as it seemed prone to do lately, the smile faded slowly. "I simply have to figure this out, Don. All of it, what…what their agenda is, who's doing this and- and why. But I just can't seem to distance myself from the situation enough."
"That's understandable."
"Yeah…but not excusable."
"You know something?" Don stood up and tossed an afghan to him. "You need to get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning, all right?"
Charlie nodded and unfolded the afghan. He smiled. "This is one of mom's."
Don squinted at it. "Oh yeah, I guess it is."
"She always put little daisies on the corners. Yeah see, right there." Charlie put an arm under his pillow and laid down, eyes sparkling brightly in the darkness.
"Night, Charlie" Don said, turning the lamp off.
"Night," Charlie responded sleepily.
An hour later found Don standing by the dark living room window, peaking between the heavy drapes to stare at the distant lights of LA. He glanced down at the road and noticed a black, two-door SUV parked down the road a ways. He stepped back from the window, shutting the curtains.
The room was so quiet, the sound of him dialing on his phone made Charlie stir in his sleep. He crept back out of the room to stand in the kitchen instead, and when he spoke his voice was so low it was almost a whisper. "Hey, it's Don. Just wanted to check in."
"All's clear down here."
"Can you see the front door and windows okay?"
"Yeah. I'll check around back in an hour or so, but I'm pretty sure I'd see anyone coming before they get here. You know, I've never seen your apartment building before now? Could be because you don't, you know, come here much."
"Laugh it up."
"Colby and I have a bet going- does the manager recognize you when you come home, or does he tell you visiting hours are over?"
Don smiled to himself. "Thanks for doing this, David."
"Don't mention it, man."
Don hung up and paced back into the living room, slipping into the chair adjacent to the couch. He watched his brother sleep for awhile, trying once more to reassure himself he'd done the right thing. Then he grabbed his coffee and took a long drink. Just four hours or so, then the sun would start rising, and he could quit worrying so much.
- - - - -