Disclaimer – I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. All real organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

CHAPTER NINE

-11-1000-1-10010-1100-1001-101-

Charlie noticed the exchange of glances amongst Don's team as his older brother vanished from view. "You know something." He said and waited. "Give."

"Don's not telling us everything." Megan finally said. She then outlined what they had found on the surveillance footage from the mall.

"There must be a reason he didn't tell us." Charlie said. "They must have forced him to keep quiet."

"That's what we think." She nodded towards the interrogation room containing Don. "DHS thinks more is going on. With what you just told us and the footage we've seen, I think there is too."

"So what can we do?"

"We just have to get everything we can."

"Surveillance!" Colby snapped his fingers and sat up. "Our job is surveillance footage right? What about the terrorist's surveillance?"

"What?"

"Don told us that the terrorists had the mall under surveillance."

David started to catch on. "You think they have cameras set up?"

"They can't hang around watching the mall, LAPD have that place saturated. For them to be close enough to see what is happening, that we aren't getting hostages out or sending bomb disposal in then they have to be using cameras."

"Or using the media." Charlie said.

"No." Colby said. "Not precise enough and too easily controlled by us."

Charlie didn't think that the media were easily controlled by the FBI. But then again, given the stakes they would probably play along if they were asked to hold off filming a section of 'background' for a little while.

"So they would have to have their own cameras. If we could see what they see then we'll know where the bombs are." Megan added.

"The only way that would work is if they are using wireless cameras." Charlie pointed out. "But if they are and you get me the frequency and strength along with a triangulation of the emitter I can work out the probable range of the transmission and map the best reception areas and black spots. Even better, if they are remote controlled we can backtrack the signal to the receiver/transmitter."

Charlie watched as Don's team headed rapidly for the door discussing what equipment they needed, radio detection gear and so forth. "Hey!"

"What, Charlie?"

"Check the data lines. They might just be tapping the mall security footage."

"Gotcha." Megan looked like she hadn't thought of that. He hadn't until just then either. She raced off to catch up to the others.

Charlie stood at a loss for a moment, wondering what he could do. The NSA hadn't given him any more data to work with, he'd done what he'd been called in to do. He was now just on standby in case they had something else.

He had a thought, if they found out where the bombs were then he would also need a schematic of the mall to map out the blast zones. They would then be able to move the hostages to safer areas, reduce the risk of casualties in the event of detonation. Maybe even find a way out that wasn't being monitored. He'd seen the blueprints on the wall in the MIR, had seen the company name on the bottom. He pulled a data cable from his laptop bag and found the room's internet connection. He plugged his laptop in and started work. He wanted to find his own copy of the blueprint, if he couldn't find it on the net or through the city databases then perhaps their father could help.

-100-1110-1110-

A piece of paper was abruptly shoved under his nose. Don automatically flinched backwards, then saw that it was Barnathan standing next to him. Don felt like he'd only just sat back in front of his computer after the last discussion with the DHS agent. He checked his watch, it was quarter to eleven.

"What now?"

"Read."

Don took the offered sheet and read it through after noting the header from an international news agency claiming that they had verified the identity of the sender for the following message. He saw that the time it was sent, shortly after ten o'clock, was perfect for it to hit the late night news editions.

'Zuheen speaks.

'I am wronged. While I enjoy the American's fear for the lives of so many in their so called 'City of Angels', I deny responsibility. This is not my work, that target is beneath me. I have far better things planned for those who war against the true followers of Islam.

'I do not seek glory or gold, such things are worthless. My work is the work of Allah. I am His spokesman. I will pass His word to the infidels and they will learn His truth through me. I do not use this government man, this FBI agent, to speak for me.

'I demand the American authorities make this FBI agent reveal his controllers, reveal their true identities, or I shall be forced to do so.

'I will not have my true cause defiled by infidels.

'You are warned.''

"It's running on all the news services." Barnathan told him when he looked up.

"I don't understand." Don said although he knew perfectly well what was happening. Telford's plan was working, the real Zuheen was not happy with being accused of the threat to the mall. It looked like the real terrorist was prepared to act openly in response, against him, based on the demands in the message. Such action would reveal his presence, make it more likely he would be caught. Don couldn't deny being pleased with that possibility. If such a result could come out of today then it would go some way to offsetting Telford and his employer holding two thousand innocent civilians hostage. Some way, he quantified, but not all the way.

"Neither do we. Why would he be so desperate to claim responsibility, make you give a press conference, no less, to blame this on him, and then turn around and send this? He told us all communication was to be through you, but he sends his own communiqué through his usual sources."

"This must be fake."

"They verified the sender."

"So did the local media. The same codes no doubt."

Barnathan nodded. "The code used was the same. But this would leave us with a problem, one of the two Zuheens must be an imposter."

"Why? Perhaps confusion is what he wants. Make us run around chasing our tails until it is too late to stop him." Don offered.

"Perhaps. There is still the issue that this is much more like Zuheen's style." Barnathan insisted. "You say they took you to see Zuheen, that he spoke directly to you."

"Yes."

"Write it all down, word for word what he said to you. I'll send it off to those who know Zuheen better. They will be able to make a better judgement."

Don didn't want that, the investigation would definitely derail if they were able to prove Don's Zuheen was the fake. "My recollection may not be perfect enough for these experts to do that."

"We will see. Start typing, Eppes."

He watched as Barnathan walked away. Sighing, he cleared the reports from his screen and opened a blank page. There was nothing for it but to do as he'd been ordered. As he'd told the DHS agent, his version of the conversation may not prove anything anyway. Discrepancies could be written off as problems with his recollection rather than proving outright that Don had not really met with the terrorist. He hoped.

He had barely started when he was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. Checking the screen he wasn't surprised to see that the number was unlisted. "Eppes."

"Is this call being monitored?"

With Zuheen's message being played all over the news he'd expected this call. "No."

"I want to meet." A location was provided before the call terminated.

Don put his phone away. As he stood he saw that Wachowski was waiting for him to explain the call. "Wrong number." Don told him, the call had been brief enough, and walked off. As he expected Wachowski came after him, even started to follow him into the men's room. Don rounded on the younger man.

"Back off!"

"Where you go, I go Agent Eppes." The DHA agent told him.

"I don't need your help in here." Don said pointedly looking at the stalls through the open door, his arm braced across the doorway.

Wachowski had the grace to look embarrassed before stepping back and taking up a position in the hall, arms crossed.

Don allowed the door to close and flipping the lid down took a seat in a stall, thinking furiously. How the hell was he going to get out of here? With Wachowski assigned to watch him it was not a simple proposition. The junior DHS agent seemed determined to do his job properly. Don doubted he would be able to pull rank and get any other concessions from the man. If you could call privacy in the men's room, a room with only one exit, a concession. Don glanced at his watch to see that a minute had slipped away. He didn't have much time.

After running some water in the sink he couldn't resist the urge to splash some over his face. It was amazingly refreshing. He wiped his face dry with a paper towel before pushing the door open and stepping into the hall. Wachowski looked at him but Don didn't acknowledge his presence, just started walking for the lift. His luck was with him, the indicator showed that a car was waiting on this floor. He pressed the button and stepped in as the doors opened.

"Where are you going, Agent Eppes?"

Don pressed the button for the parking garage and stepped back, facing the doors. He found that the doors were being blocked by the other man. Don reached out without warning and grabbed Wachowski by the right arm, hauling him into the lift as he pressed the 'door close' button. "I'm going home. You either follow or stay here. You don't block my way. Understand?" Don said to the other agent as the lift descended.

Wachowski pulled his arm free, stepping back to give himself room. The abrupt move by his charge had startled him and he wasn't sure what the older man might do next. He kept a wary eye on the FBI agent as he pulled out his cell phone. He dialled and waited for the connection. The lift stopped its descent and the doors opened. He followed Eppes out into the garage as his phone beeped at him.

"No reception, huh?" Don said, hearing the tone. He managed to keep the relief out of his voice. It had been a risk yanking the man into the lift but it had paid off, he'd been banking on the lack of phone reception in the garage. He pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked his SUV as the other agent tried to dial out again.

"Stop."

Don ignored him, climbing into the driver's seat and starting his engine. He wound the window down. "I'm just going home. I'll be back soon."

"Stop!" The command was more desperate as the junior agent reached for his sidearm.

Don immediately raised his left hand pointing a warning finger out the window at Wachowski. His right hand curled around the grip of his own weapon. That was more a reflex than anything else, a response to the threat of another firearm. There was no way he could shoot the other man. Don used a different weapon, his lecture voice from back when he was teaching operational survival at Quantico. "Do not draw that weapon agent! You have no authority to do so. I am not under arrest and you have no valid reason to arrest me."

Wachowski froze, unsure of what he should do. He couldn't call for advice. He had to make a decision here and now. He thought back to his orders, to keep an eye on the FBI agent, nothing about detaining him or stopping him from leaving. His realised that his understanding that Eppes couldn't leave the building was implied, not directed. He also noted the way the FBI agent was sitting, upper body leaning slightly forward and to the left, right shoulder raised with the right elbow pressing into the seat back. From that he knew Eppes had his hand on his own weapon. This could go very bad, very quickly. Wachowski released his grip on his gun, moving his hand well away from his side, deciding that he wasn't prepared to draw down on a senior agent on an implication. His gaze lit upon the rows of car keys hanging up on the wall. Each with a label to identifying the FBI service vehicle they belonged to.

Don saw the younger man change his mind and recognised the direction of his gaze with relief. He let go of his Glock as the DHS agent headed for the key rack. Don reversed out of his spot and took off, he needed all the lead he could get if he was going to loose him. He pressed his tag to the sensor at the security gate and drove out onto the street. He hoped it would take Wachowski a moment or two to locate the tag on the key ring to the service vehicle before he would be able to leave the garage. His luck was with him as he made his first turn and saw the security gate was still down before he lost sight of the building. He didn't notice the headlights that pulled away from the curb half a block away and follow.

Not taking any chances that he'd evaded Wachowski Don steered a convoluted path designed to shake a tail. As he was looking for a following vehicle he thought he saw the same set of headlights a number of times but after several minutes it seemed he'd managed to loose them. He then promptly forgot all about them as he turned his thoughts towards the coming meeting with Telford.