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.

A/N: Some more action…

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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"Hey, Charlie?"

Charlie jerked upright, left hand grabbing the side of his neck at a painful twinge. He really shouldn't fall asleep over his computer like that. It took him a moment to remember why he was sleeping over his computer. He saw the results of his labour on his desktop, the complete blueprints for the mall which he'd simplified down to show walls, windows, walkways and open space ready for blast pattern analysis. He already had most of the variables in and was now waiting for the locations of the bombs. He then remembered why he'd woken. He turned, careful of his stiff neck, and saw Megan walking in, a coffee in her hand. "Hi."

"Hi. Looks like you could do with this." She handed over the cup. She waited as he started to drink the contents.

"Thanks." The hot liquid went down surprisingly well.

"You awake now?" She'd woken up more than her fair share of people over the years and had been rudely awakened a few times herself so she knew it took a few minutes for the brain to get into gear.

"I think so." He looked around. "Where's Don?"

Megan wasn't surprised at the question. "I've heard he's sleeping in the break room. He was seen by a doctor not long ago."

"A doctor!" Charlie had known Don had been hurt and had been seen by an EMT. He'd even seen his brother briefly across the opposite side of the bull pen walking under his own steam holding an icepack to the side of his head. He hadn't realised he'd been hurt bad enough for a doctor to be called. It was so hard to be this close to his brother but not be able to go to him. "I want to see him."

"Charlie, he's sleeping." Megan repeated. Their cubicle was not in sight from the conference room, she couldn't see Don was working at his computer. "You know you shouldn't see him at the moment anyway."

"I don't care."

"You can't help him if they kick you out of here." Megan said bluntly.

"Alright." Charlie finally said, conceding that Megan had a valid point. He saw the papers in her hand. "What have you got for me?"

She explained their last couple of hours of work as she presented him with the maps, along with the lists of signal strengths and frequencies from each source.

Charlie looked at her suddenly, away from the map he'd been scrutinising, turning off the equations flowing through his mind. "You've got a plan."

"Yes." She admitted but maddeningly failed to elaborate.

"Well?"

"Part of one. Look, it might not work. I'm hoping we have enough equipment and people to pull it off."

"Tell me!"

Charlie sat back as she finished. It could work. He'd seen the idea often enough in all the best cop movies and it actually had a degree of plausibility. As it was still night outside the vehicles would be less likely to be detected allowing them to complete their tasks. They still had the rest of the plan to figure out though and the sooner they started the better. Then they would need his results. Which reminded him, he had work to do.

He turned back to the maps and lists and was instantly immersed, oblivious to everything else, even Megan leaving.

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Don shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was sitting in the back seat of a speeding SUV being driven to the mall. Telford had phoned him half an hour ago, far later than expected, demanding that he give a press briefing at the mall. 'Zuheen' wanted to denounce the other message as false and was increasing his demand for gold in punishment.

The senior members of the JTTF hadn't been happy, the conflicting messages from the terrorist throwing them off balance. One side had to be false which led them to the conclusion that Don was in danger. They didn't want to risk losing their contact with the terrorist but Don's target had prevailed, convincing them to comply with the demand. The carrot was dangled that if an attempt was made on Don then there was a fifty-fifty chance that the attacker would be Zuheen. A hastily worded release was drawn up to accompany the text he'd been given and Don was sent out. He'd also not been permitted to draw a replacement weapon from the armoury. No, it wasn't the bulky body armour that made him uncomfortable, it was the knowledge that he was allowing himself to be set up as a target.

His armoured SUV contained a full team of DHS agents, including Wachowski, sent by Barnathan ostensively to protect him from the threat but Don knew that their duel role was to keep him under guard. Don found that for the moment he didn't really mind, it meant he was safe from Telford. The other SUV contained the FBI team sent by Merrick. He knew that there were several teams of both FBI and LAPD SWAT officers positioned at various locations around the mall, holding out of sight. The fifty-fifty chance of catching Zuheen was too good an opportunity to pass up.

It was still dark but large crowds were waiting near the barricades erected around the mall, concentrated around the entrance area that the LAPD were struggling to keep clear for emergency vehicles. Telford couldn't have asked for their entrance to be more obvious, the two large black SUVs with heavily tinted windows and lights flashing travelled straight through the entrance without slowing. If Zuheen was really watching then he would have no doubt that government agents had arrived, perhaps even the one he had threatened.

They rolled to a side by side stop near a second cordon. This was where the media were set up, clear to move free of the crowds but still some distance from the inner cordon where the emergency services were set up. They were already in place, setting up for live broadcasts for the six o'clock morning news when the FBI had notified them that Zuheen had a new message. Don recognised several national anchors and noticed the badging of various international news services on other cameras and reporter's jackets. There had been more than ample time for media to have flocked to the scene in numbers guaranteed to generate maximum publicity, unknowingly following Telford's design to draw the terrorist out.

The DHS and FBI agents slid from their vehicles and were almost immediately mobbed. The media broke away from their set up positions in their rush to get information. Don was trapped in the middle as his detail struggled to create a space, pushing the camera operators and shouting reporters back. Finally, with the arrival of some back up in the form of LAPD, order was restored allowing the FBI contingent to move off and position themselves to watch the area around them. The DHS agents kept close to Don and he had an armoured SUV protecting his back.

Don stole a glance at his watch and saw that it had gone six o'clock. The waking LA would be tuning in for the morning news. The media realised that their deadline had arrived and efficiently organised themselves in a large silent semi-circle around the terrorist's chosen spokesman. All movement ceased as a CNN reporter called out that they were ready as if the bright camera lights and microphones pointed at him like so many rifles weren't enough of an indication. The footage would go out live.

"I have been contacted again by the terrorist Zuheen." Don started speaking loudly and clearly. He reluctantly read from the inflammatory script provided by Telford. "He says: 'the message sent to Reuters was false, I will have vengeance on those who dare take my name. I chose to make America pay for their outrages against us. From a country that wants only wealth and material riches I now want two hundred million dollars of your precious gold. The deadline of ten o'clock this morning remains for the gold to be ready. You will release twenty of my friends and brothers from Guantanamo Bay. There will be no extensions, I will destroy this symbol of American wealth and take these infidel lives if I am not obeyed.' That is the end of his message. The US Government has decided to prepare the two hundred million dollars of gold. It will be drawn from the Fort Knox depository and be waiting at ten o'clock. No detainees will be released from Guantanamo Bay. We await further contact from Zuheen." Don folded the sheet of paper indicating he'd finished.

The media scrum erupted. A hundred questions all asked at once, Don didn't have a hope of understanding what was said let along answering anything. He held up his hand, trying to bring them to order. What he had been about to say was left unsaid as the side of his face was peppered with glass shards from the impact of the bullet on the window of the SUV behind him. Don turned in shock as the sound of the rifle shot reached them, staring at the unbroken but starred glass a few inches to the right side of his head.

The DHS agents reacted before he could. He was grabbed and hustled around to the opposite side of the SUV to the corridor of safety between the two armoured vehicles. A door was opened and he was unceremoniously bundled into the undamaged SUV as the other agents scanned the area around them, weapons out, for the shooter. Don could hear the screams from the media as they scattered making the agents' job hopeless. He also heard the shouted commands into radios as sirens started up from nearby, the SWAT units being called in. Don tried to sit up, to see what was happening but was pushed down out of sight. More doors opened and the vehicle rocked as other DHS agents jumped in. The engine started and the SUV peeled away, swerving wildly to avoid running over members of the media. Don was finally allowed to sit up in time to see a SWAT SUV take up a position behind them as they raced back to the FBI building. His face stung and he absently rubbed his right hand over the area.

"Are you hit?" Wachowski demanded

Don looked at his shaking, bloody hand. "Just glass I think." There was still a babble of voices over their radio. "Has anyone been hit?"

"No. There was just the one shot."

"Have they tracked it?"

"Working on it. They figure a sniper from a building top, LAPD have their helicopter searching."

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A/N: And I claim to like Don! He he he...