Chapter VII: The Way it Works
He could get up tomorrow morning, get in his car, and just drive, run away and leave everything behind. Colby thought it was a nice dream, but that was all it would be. Besides, how long could he live on the run?
A few days? A few weeks?
Westwood and Dolon would see to it he would be followed and chased, hunted and eliminated. They'd never let him escape into the sunset. It would all end with an out-of-control police chase and a spectacular, fiery crash. And while the gory shots of his charred body would be discreetly handled by the forensics team assigned to the scene, there'd be pictures of the resulting carnage in all the national papers. A disgraced FBI Agent running amok would make quite the story.
Colby twirled the chopsticks in his hand round and round and round. Pushing away his morbid thoughts he licked the last bit of sticky rice clinging to the end of one of the chopsticks. He cleaned up the remains of his Golden Dragon takeout dinner: soy sauce went into its slot on the 'fridge door, the empty take out cartons went into the trash bin, and the chopsticks and water glass went into the sink. Mess taken care of, he leaned on the counter at the lip of the sink and tried not to eye the cupboard directly above the refrigerator.
He could pack tomorrow and get drunk tonight.
Stalling, he released his appointment reminder—the one he'd canceled—from its magnet and tossed it in the trash with his dinner. He may be shrinking from responsibility by canceling, but today he didn't want to face the past or the future.
His eyes slid again to the cupboard of their own accord. Hard liquor wouldn't release him from his reassignment trap, but it would let him forget...for a little while. And tonight that's what he wanted. Giving in he hauled out a tumbler and his prized Johnnie Walker Blue.
He'd bought the blended scotch whiskey the night he was officially done with military service and had only sipped at it on special occasions. Tonight wasn't what he'd classify as special, but it sure wasn't a Budweiser night. Setting the tumbler on the kitchen counter he uncorked the bottle and inhaled deeply. The smooth, smoky scent filled his nostrils and he let the scent linger as he imagined what the rich amber liquid would taste like: burnt peat with a kick of bitter chocolate. Then his insides would glow with the warmth of fire.
Before he could pour out the doorbell rang.
He put the bottle down on the dining table and held still for a moment hoping he'd imagined it, but then it rang a second time and Colby couldn't let himself ignore it.
When Colby saw a distorted Don Eppes through the door's peephole he groaned. After their argument earlier Colby didn't particularly want to let the man in. What more could he want? If ever there was a time to let things go unsaid this was it.
"Eppes," Colby said opening the door, but making sure to block most of the opening with his body.
"Can I talk with you for a moment?" Don asked.
"If this is a continuation of our conversation at the office, than I'd prefer to skip it. I know where you stand. There isn't anything else to discuss."
Don took a deep breath. "There is."
"What?"
"May I come in?" Hands in his jacket pockets Don actually appeared subdued. He could still sense Don's anger simmering below the surface, but it wasn't as explosive as it'd been that morning. "Please."
"Mi casa es su casa," Colby said and backed out of the way. It had taken him all through dinner to get over the sick feeling that his possessions had been pawed over and examined within an inch of their life. "Especially since I heard you've already made a…" Colby fumbled for the correct word, "thorough search of the place."
Don winced but didn't apologize and Colby closed the door. He watched Don get his bearings and scan the tiny kitchen and living room. "You drunk?" Don asked pointing to the open bottle of whiskey.
"Not yet."
"How much have you had?"
"None," Colby replied, but Don's look was still skeptical. "Do I need to do a Field Sobriety Nine Step Heel-Toe Test to prove it to you? I can also touch my nose." Obediently Colby tapped his nose twice. "You interrupted before I could get started."
"Sorry," Don said to his shoe tops. "We sit down?"
Colby shrugged and gestured to the threadbare loveseat. "Sure."
Don took his seat among the fraying pillows and Colby grabbed the chair he was sitting in earlier and dragged it three feet into the living room. He spun it around and straddled the chair backwards. "What'd you come for? I doubt it was to play cop on my liquor consumption."
Don thought for a moment and nodded as if he'd made up his mind. When he spoke it was slow and deliberate. "I came because I don't understand what happened."
Colby ran his fingers along the top of the rough chair edge. It had splintered and he picked at a broken wooden spike. "I lied to cover my ass. You arrested me. The event sequence is pretty clear."
"Why'd you lie to me in the first place?"
"You really want an answer to that?"
"I wouldn't be here otherwise. In your interrogation you told me exactly what I wanted to hear. Why?"
Even though this was approachable Don and not the pissed off version, Colby still wanted to pull back and hide his true intentions. He didn't want anything he said to be used against him later. "Because I was ordered to maintain my cover and keep any Janus List fallout to a minimum. No matter the cost."
"Even if the cost was the respect of your peers and country? Your friends?"
"No matter the cost," Colby repeated.
"This is honestly how you want to end things?"
"It's already over," Colby said through clenched teeth.
"I said honestly."
Colby turned away and examined the peeling sea-spray pale blue wallpaper near the window as if it held the clues to all the solutions in life.
"Fine." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Don throw his hands up in defeat. "Fine. If that's the way you want things to be, then that's the way they'll be."
"I want things to go back to the way they were before." The words had spilled out before he thought to censor them.
"They way they were was a lie," Don replied.
He swung back quickly. "No, Don, it wasn't."
"And you want me to blindly believe that?"
"You ask me to blindly believe things everyday," Colby retorted.
"That's different."
"How? How, Don? You have your orders. I had mine. I was ordered to keep quiet. It's part of the job of an intelligence operative. Are you more upset because I followed my orders, or because those orders came from above you?"
"And didn't you question those orders?" Don asked sitting down again.
"What?" That hit too close to home.
"Naomi Vaughn. She's missing again. Did you know that?"
He gulped. Was this all going to be for nothing? "I didn't."
"I don't believe that," Don growled. "I stopped you red-handed sneaking her out of the house."
"I told you, I told Dolon, I told Westwood," Colby made sure to enunciate each name perfectly as he stood up and returned the chair to the dinning table. "I was moving her out of the fire zone." He braced his arms on the table on either side of his whiskey. No matter how much he drank, it wasn't going to be enough to mask the pain tonight.
"And what did you intend to do once she was out, hummm? Turn around, Colby. Tell me what you were gonna do to her."
Colby didn't budge. "I don't want to discuss this."
He heard the creak of the sofa as Don rose. "Why can't you answer?" Don shot back hotly.
"Leave."
"No." Then Don closed in and was whispering in his ear. "Why didn't you kill her in the bathroom? That would have been the easiest thing to do. In the confusion you could've used one of the assassins' guns. You're good enough. You could've pulled it off. Blamed it on someone else." That was true and he wasn't proud of it. Colby gripped the smooth, glass whiskey bottle. "Did you have it all planned out? Were you going to shoot her on the beach? Or were you going to smuggle her away, hand her over to Black Rain, and then run for it? If we find her dead body tom—"
"If I wanted her dead, she'd be dead!" he shouted as he whirled around like lightning.
The whiskey went flying and sailed in an arc until it smashed into the far wall. Glass shards showered and the alcohol streaked the wallpaper like amber blood.
Colby's legs gave out and he sank to the carpet.
Don took a reflexive step back and Colby watched the emotions flit across his face: disbelief, incredulity, and then understanding. "You were ordered to kill her." It may have been word for word exactly what Charlie had stated two days before, but the tone and inflection made it different, made it hurt more, as Don loomed over him passing judgment.
"You believe me capable of cold blooded murder?" Colby asked. He couldn't bring himself to stand and be Don's equal. He was where he belonged.
"You know exactly how many people you've killed. Why should one more matter?"
"There comes a point in battle," Colby said to Don's shadow, "when you lose count. In war it's easy to be told the enemy's evil, that they deserve to die. It is you versus them. One of you isn't going to walk away and you do what's necessary to make sure it's not your blood in the desert sands. That's different from being told to kill someone, who's perfectly innocent, who's done nothing to you, who has no motive against you or your family. Naomi Vaughn was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She didn't do anything. She didn't know anything."
"But someone saw her as a threat," Don said crouching next to him.
Colby nodded.
"Who?"
"Don't make me answer that." It was another slip and he couldn't take it back, so before Don could respond he went on attack. "You want me to believe you suddenly care? That you had this radical change of heart in," Colby glanced at his watch and let the sarcasm drip from his words, "nine hours? I'll be gone soon enough. Content yourself with that."
Don sighed and put his hand on Colby's shoulder. It was a comforting weight, but Colby didn't want it to be. He shrugged his shoulder, but instead of throwing Don's hand off altogether Don slid it down Colby's arm. "Where're they reassigning you to?"
"Overseas."
It took five whole seconds for Don to match the word overseas with Beijing. Don furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side. He honestly seemed to be concerned. "Colby, are you in over your head?"
He closed his eyes briefly. His answer to that could either damn him or save him and his heart started to hammer in his chest. He was already skating on thin ice…ice that could crack and give way in an instant, or with a wrongly placed word. "Why are you asking?"
"Because I've had,"—he gave a self-deprecating smirk—"four different people remind me that I haven't exactly been the best boss in the world to you."
"You came to put your conscience at ease." Colby scoffed.
"That's part of the reason," Don admitted, "but it's not all of it. Man to man, are you in trouble and need to get out?"
"How do I know you're not playing me?" Colby evaded answering the question.
"You could've come to me. You could've told me what was going on. I would've listened."
"No, you wouldn't've. You've always seen things as good or evil, black or white. Anything I would have told you would have smudged that line too much for your liking. You wouldn't allow me to talk with Dwayne privately. I didn't want things to get worse."
"Worse than this?"
"Oh, yes. Much worse. My actions aren't your responsibility, Don."
"You're on my team." Don squeezed his arm. "And when you're on a team you gotta trust all your team members. Like you said to me in the car two and a half weeks ago 'that's the way it works.'"
"There isn't anything you can do."
"You don't know that."
"It's a fight I can't win," Colby whispered.
"It's a fight you can't win alone."
"You don't know who we'd be up against," Colby said darkly. "You don't want to know."
Don let his hand slide off. "You don't want to tell me?"
"It's not—you're not involved in it as deeply as I am. If I tell you…. I've been doing this a long time, I'll be fine." Take my protection, Colby begged silently. Please. Colby had to look away from Don's damnably honest eyes, otherwise he'd spill everything and he didn't think he'd be able to live with the consequences. The whiskey on the wall would make a lovely stain.
"Expensive stuff?" Don asked following his gaze.
"Two hundred a bottle."
"Bet it would've been good," Don chuckled.
"Yeah."
Don's cell phone rang and he shifted to dig the phone out of his jeans pocket. Don sighed, but Colby was grateful for the interruption because it allowed him space to breathe. Their conversation had been too raw, the most honest one he'd had since coming to Los Angeles; Colby'd spent too many cases, too many sunrises building a wall around his emotions.
Don hadn't had the cell phone up to his ear for more than five seconds before he blanched. "Amita," he soothed her, "Amita, slow down. What about Charlie?"
Colby couldn't hear what Amita was saying exactly, but he could hear that her voice was high pitched and speaking a million miles a minute. Then Don's face hardened. "What'd you mean he's gone?" Don asked her and there was a lengthy pause as Amita explained. "I'll be there as soon as possible," Don told her. "No, don't call the police. I'll handle it. Yes, I'll hurry." With that he hung up and stood up.
"Charlie's missing?" Colby asked despite the fact Don's side of the conversation had already made that clear.
"That's what it sounds like." Don had on a brave front, but Colby could see the cracks. "Amita came back to the house to get something she forgot and found the garage in shambles. No sign of Charlie."
"You need to go?" he asked Don. He knew he wouldn't be welcome, knew this wasn't his fight, but still it hurt.
"I do." Don stood up and pocketed his phone. He took three steps to the door and hesitated. "Are you coming?"
"You want me?"
"Unless you don't want to."
Not waiting for a second invitation Colby rose to his feet and grabbed his jacket.
-oOo-
They hustled out to the parking lot and Colby watched when Don, full of nervous energy, groped with the automatic lock remote and dropped his car keys on the pavement. "Let me drive?" Colby asked.
After a moment's hesitation Don tossed him the keys to his Chevy Suburban. "It would probably be best."
Colby gave a tight smile and unlocked the driver's side. "Thanks." Colby adjusted the seat height and the mirrors while Don climbed in on the other side.
"You know the quickest way?" Don asked as he buckled his seat belt.
"Yep." Colby put his hand on the passenger head rest and looked back to check for other cars. There weren't any and he put the car in reverse and backed out of the visitor's parking space.
"Stupid question."
They stopped at four red lights on the way. Don swore at all but one, and would have at that one too except he was on the phone calling Megan and David to meet them at Charlie's house.
Colby pulled into the Craftsman's driveway next to Amita's Prius ten minutes later and Don was out of the car like a shot before Colby even had time to kill the engine.
Walking up to the porch Colby decided that being here again wasn't going to be easy, but it was possible. Colby bit his lip and he followed Don inside.
Alan only looked half surprised when Colby shut the door behind himself. Amita, on the other hand didn't notice him at all; she had her arms wrapped around her knees and kept rocking back and forth on the sofa.
"What happened?" Don asked.
"I can't believe this is happening," Alan said with very hollow eyes.
"It's okay. Just tell me what happened," Don said steering his father to the couch next to Amita.
"Shortly after I convinced you to go talk with—" Alan gave a sad smile to Colby. Even in such a horrible situation it warmed Colby's heart to see the grin. "Well… we broke up pretty quickly after dinner. Charlie was stewing over his work and Amita left. I went to bed early. I didn't… I didn't hear anyone come in the house, but there was a bit of a scuffle, but I just assumed—stupid of me—that Charlie'd gotten upset with his work. A few moments later someone climbed the stairs—I figured Charlie'd given up and went to bed. I drifted to sleep and the next thing I know Amita's pounding on my bedroom door."
"Amita?" Don prompted.
She was still rocking. "I was going to grade Charlie's exams, but I forgot to grab them before I left. So I went. I…I… It's all my fault. I should have stayed. The house was dark when I let myself back in. Charlie wasn't working in the garage and I didn't even bother to turn on the light. So, I went to find him in bed." If she was embarrassed about admitting she had no qualms about surprising Charlie in his bedroom at night she was too worried to care. "He wasn't in his room either."
"Did you try calling him?" Don asked.
"Yeah and when I called, I could hear the phone ringing from the garage," she said and uncurled her fist. Charlie's cell phone rested in the palm of her hand. "It was on the garage floor next to a fallen chalkboard. The room's a mess. Then I went to wake Mr. Eppes. We called you. I don't remember much after that. We've been waiting for you."
Don leaned over and took the phone. He flipped it open and muttered: "I should've returned your call, Chuck."
"He called you?" Alan asked.
"Not tonight. I meant over the weekend. It doesn't…." Don trailed off. If guilt could be etched on a man's face then there was no better example than Don Eppes, Colby thought to himself. He must have aged ten years in ten minutes. Don cleared his throat. "You want to have a look at the garage," he asked Colby.
"Sounds like as good of a place as any to start."
"Megan and David should be here shortly. Tell'm to come on back."
Alan nodded, but Amita didn't seem to acknowledge him. Without another word Colby let Don lead the way to the garage.
Colby wandered around the familiar room taking everything in. He normally dubbed it the Math Garage, but at the moment it more closely resembled a war zone than a place of higher mathematics. Laundry was strewn across the cement floor and one of the largest blackboards was also on the ground. All of the other six blackboards in the room were wiped clean. Paper printouts littered the floor, but the computer that was normally stationed on the table was gone.
"They took him here," Don said pointing to the floor in front of the fallen chalkboard.
"He fought," Colby added.
"For what good it did him," Don muttered. "Help me lift it?"
"Sure," Colby said and came over to help Don heave the chalkboard upright. When it was standing on its own he noticed that not only had it also been wiped clean like its brethren, it also had a jagged crack down the middle. Colby heard Don suck in a breath. Among erasers and the white crushed pieces of chalk there was a smudge of blood.
"Don?" Megan's worried voice carried into the garage.
"In here," Don hollered back.
Two seconds later Megan ran into the garage and stopped short when she saw the wreckage of the room. Colby tried not to shrug his shoulders defensively when she gave him a shocked look. She probably found his presence more shocking than the state of the room.
"We'll talk about it later," Don said to quell Megan's unvoiced question.
"Talk about what later?" David asked entering the room and jostling Megan to the left. "Alan and Amita said to go on back, so I let myse…" he trailed off once he saw Colby standing next to the chalkboard.
"Later," Don repeated and pulled the two newcomers off to the side to bring them up to speed.
To give himself something to do, and so he couldn't hear the angry hisses from Megan and David, Colby wandered over to the air hockey table. What must have been the ungraded CalSci tests were stacked in one corner, but the rest of the surface was covered with printouts. The equations, formulae, and expressions resembled hieroglyphics to him; it could have been in a foreign language as far as he was concerned. Someone, Charlie most likely, had circled several sections with red pen.
What in all of Charlie's work was worth kidnapping for…was worth killing for?
Colby shifted some of the papers aside and his own name caught his eye. Awww, shit! This was his work for the NSA. Black Rain's ops—he had no doubt over who the guilty party was—sure waited for just the right time to abduct Charlie. It was just luck of the draw that Amita came back for the forgotten tests, otherwise no one would have known he was gone until morning. He was surprised Black Rain had the guts and the gall. It was quite daring of them to extract Charlie while his own father was asleep upstairs.
Wait!
Alan was the type of father to bid his son goodnight. They had to have known Alan had gone to bed. Had to! Which meant….
He looked to the ceiling, but there was no smoke alarm. The light switch lacked a cover, so it wouldn't conceal anything. He peered along the underside of the air hockey table and there wasn't anything there. Next, he ran his hand along the underside of the sofa and lo and behold there was a small lump near the right corner's foot. He tugged and something small fell into his hands.
It was a bug.
He joined the group holding the bug between his thumb and forefinger for the rest to see. They looked from the bug to him and back again. No one said anything, but Colby didn't doubt for a moment what they were all thinking.
"I didn't plant it."
"I didn't ask if you did," replied Don. "Let me see it."
Colby handed it over and added, "It's identical to one of the bugs David and I uncovered from Taylor Ashby's apartment—one of the ones we were unable to identify."
"One we were unable to identify?" Don asked raising an eyebrow. Don didn't add any more, but there was the unmistakable undercurrent that this was his second chance.
He took it. "It's Black Rain's."
"You sure 'bout that?"
"Yes." Colby thrust his thumb over his shoulder at the hockey table and its debris. "They have the most to lose from Charlie's NSA work because it will mean the US will end outsourcing most of its intelligence gathering activities."
David wore a bewildered expression, but Megan shifted uncomfortably.
"How'd you know Charlie was working for the NSA?" Don queried.
"He told me."
"When?" Don asked sharply.
"Sunday afternoon while I was still in lockup. I figured he'd break down and admit to the visit afterwards. He didn't?"
"No." Holding the bug in the palm of his hand Don said, "I'll be right back. I'm going to grab a bag to put this in."
When Don left the garage the tension became tangible enough to swim in. Both Megan and David turned to him and their stares were unnerving. Finally David broke the silence, "I find it hard to believe Don called you."
"I was with him when Amita phoned."
"You just tagged along?"
"He came to me. I didn't seek this out."
"Yet here you are."
"Look! If you're still pissed at me, then why don't you come out and admit it!" Colby burst out.
"Yes, I'm pissed at you."
"David," Megan cautioned and put a hand on her arm.
He shook her off. "I'm not finished. He left you while Black Rain assassins were hailing you with bullets."
"Megan," Colby said as calmly as he could, "was able to take care of herself. Naomi Vaughn wasn't in any sort of position to."
"You were gonna kill the woman!"
Before Colby could reply, Don returned sans bagged bug and jumped in. "If he wanted her dead, then she'd be dead."
"And you expect me, us," he appealed to Don and gestured between himself and Megan, "to believe that. This morning you were ready to lock him away and misplace the key. He's a spy." The word came out as slimy, unclean.
"On Saturday you were practically begging me to speak with him, remember?" Don replied.
"This weekend we were still under the assumption he was a Chinese agent. Today's Tuesday and the Assistant Director's declared him the next golden boy. He's"—David pointed wildly at Colby—"a chameleon who can take on whatever shady camouflage suits him. We have no idea who he is, who he's reporting to, who he'll betray to suit the needs of his master's next plan. He's made his choice on who to trust and it isn't us."
"He did what he was ordered to do." Was Don actually defending him?
"Where's my point of view? Where's my voice? Ashby asked for you and Charlie, Don. Megan, you've been away on special assignment. Colby's been…" David groped for words. "Doing whatever double dealing duty he was ordered to do behind our back. And Me?" He thumped his chest. "I get to be the schmuck who just happened to be driving across the Sixth Street Bridge. That's my role? To be the message boy?"
"You're upset because you don't feel special?" Colby butted in unable to hold his tongue as they argued about him two feet away. "You wanna trade? You have no idea what I've been through."
"Nineteen days wasn't long enough," David shot back.
That was a verbal slap in the face and there was a horrible second when no one moved, no one breathed. Then after the initial moment of shock wore off Colby was furious. "How in the hell do you know that?"
"Hey!" Megan stepped in between the two of them to try and break up the fight. Don turned away, bowed his head, and gripped the chalkboard's tray.
"Megan, don't act like you're the peacemaker. You don't want me here anymore than he does," Colby said with a sneer.
"You're damn right I don't!" David shouted and Megan's rejoinder was lost. "After the way you've played on our friendship over the past few days, you aren't even fit to wear a badge—"
"You held a gun to my head and would've loved to pull the trigger!"
"—let alone be here."
"That's enough."
"Don't you dare judge me!" Colby took a dangerous step towards David.
"Who better than your friends? You lying, traitorous ba—"
"I said that's enough!" The three of them jumped at Don's command when he punctuated it by slamming his fist through the damaged chalkboard. Several chunks of the porcelain enamel hit the floor. Both he and David shut up.
Megan had tears brimming in her eyes and David's hands were clenched and ready to pull a punch. Colby felt like he'd been running for miles with full military gear.
Don, on the other hand, resembled the icy-cold, still surface of a lake. "Charlie's been kidnapped and the four of us arguing isn't going to find him. You wanna hash this out? Fine. Fine! You guys need me to be the boss and sit on your asses then I'll do that, but the longer I have to listen to you guys fight the more opportunity there is for Charlie to end up dead! And if he's already—" Don choked off the sentence unable to finish the morbid thought. "I'm not going to do this…. I'm not going to break down now," Don continued half under his breath."
All three of them looked away guilty as Don battled with himself to get control. Honestly, Colby was surprised he'd managed to hold it together this well this long.
"I'm going to have to take myself off the case for family reasons," Don continued once he'd gotten rein of his emotions, "and you three—yes, David, all three because until Colby's transfer goes through he's still on the team—are the only ones I'd trust to safely bring him home. We're all running on precious few hours of sleep, but if we can't work through the Colby issue"—Colby bristled—"like adults then I swear to God…." Don trailed off no longer having the energy to continue. He collapsed wearily on the couch like an empty, withered balloon. "Can we at least agree to speak rationally?"
"Yes," said Megan.
"I agree," Colby said and blew out a breath. To give the others space he retreated to the air hockey table, and back to the others, tried to brace his hands on the edge. The adrenalin racing through his system didn't want to cooperate so easily.
"David?" Don prompted.
Colby couldn't see it, but he assumed David gave a sharp nod.
"Good," Don said darkly. "Colby, turn around again."
Colby winced and before he obeyed he snagged a puck from the side dispenser to occupy his jittery hands. "How'd you know I was held by the Chinese for nineteen days?" Colby asked the group quietly, almost whispersoft once he faced them. "I happen to know for a fact that, that information was sealed and classified. You shouldn't have had access to it." They may have been his accusers, but they also owed him answers, even if they were only out of fallen friendship.
David was impersonating a clam, Megan seemed to still be concentrating on blinking rapidly, and Don had tipped his head to gaze at the wooden beams above. He flipped the puck over and over and over waiting, but nobody had a ready answer.
"Well?"
"It was Charlie," Megan admitted.
"I know Charlie was granted access to my file, but he knows what top secret means."
Don, voice hoarse, spoke up. "I'm not sure what they had him working on, but Charlie appealed to the NSA and the NSA appealed to the FBI to grant us permission to see your personnel file. Assistant Director Dolon cleared it this afternoon. Charlie was trying to do me a misguided favor." Don's unexpected arrival at his apartment now made a sick amount of sense. "Nine hours is a lot of time for someone to have a change of heart," he said wryly, no longer searching the ceiling for diving meaning.
"How do you feel now that we know?" Megan asked, perceptive as always.
How did he feel? That was absurd. How did they expect him feel? To avoid them he looked down to his hands. The plastic puck had a jagged edge and he worried at it with his fingernail.
How did he feel?
It felt like they'd stripped him naked. It felt like they'd flayed several layers of sunburned skin off his body with the intent to gorge his soul. It felt like he'd have to spend years with a single, flimsy thread stitching that gash together, but fractured halves cannot be sewn like whole. It was possible, however, for fractured bones to mend, for bleeding skin to heal, for vivid scars to fade. He could be stronger than before. He flipped the puck over once more feeling bones and muscles and tendons shift and flex in his now powerful hand. "I'd rather you didn't," he replied honestly, returning the puck to the table. "But that decision was long since taken from me."
"If it wasn't classified, would you have ever told me? Us. I mean told us." David corrected himself. His rage had been replaced with hurt.
His gut reaction was to say no, but he didn't think his best friend would have forgiven him. Hell, Colby didn't even know if he would forgive him for what had already transpired. "That mission wasn't exactly something I'm proud of. I wanted to bury it, bury it deep."
"Mission? I thought you were taken and tortured."
"Yes… and no," Colby replied. As you said so eloquently earlier, I'm a spy." The twist of his lips was bitter. "I was where I was supposed to be, doing what I was supposed to be doing. Whether it be in Afghanistan, in China, or in Los Angeles. We can go round and round on the subject but we'll get no closer to Charlie. Don, you said you didn't know what he was doing for the NSA? I'm pretty sure he's been analyzing the best way to rebuild the spy network if other countries get their hands on the Janus List." They blinked stupidly at change in topic. "Who to keep. Who to kill."
"The Assistant Director said list's a fake," Don said.
"He told me the same thing early Saturday morning, but I don't believe it."
"It's not," Megan interjected. "Don't ask how I know, but it's not."
"Early Saturday morning?" Don asked with knitted brows. "What time Saturday?"
That was what Don chose to latch on to? The time? Perhaps Don really was starting to unhinge. "Early."
"How early?"
"I don't know. Very. I didn't exactly have a watch or a window."
"Directly from the airport…. He lied."
"Who lied?" Colby asked confused.
"Dolon. Told me he came to the office directly from the airport. He lied!" Don slapped his palm against his thigh, and then flinched because it was the same hand he'd stuck through the chalkboard.
"I doubt it's the first time. You sure you want to know who we're really up against, Don?" Don, as well as Megan and David, looked at him with expressions of such innocence. Could they not see who they were investigating? Who'd been playing with them since this whole thing started?
"Am I involved deeply enough for you, Colby? Does Charlie have to be dead?" There was a naked, pleading look in Don's eyes.
"We're up against ourselves."
"No," David protested and scratched his bald head trying to deny it. "No, I refuse to…"
"They offered me a job," Megan said miserably and sunk on to the couch on Don's empty side.
"What?" Don may have vocalized the question but Colby had it too.
"The Assistant Director and Agent Westwood. He's the lead NSA Agent assigned to compiling information for counterintelligence," she explained to David. "I couldn't bring myself to tell you at lunch, I'm sorry."
"I understand," David replied. "That explains why you went pale as a ghost when I handed you the purported Janus List names."
She nodded. "Because I've been profiling, researching, and in some cases interviewing them for the past six weeks. All the Americans were there. Except for Carter. Except for Colby."
All three of his teammates looked at him.
"They're trying to break us up," Don said, pieces falling into place with sudden clarity. "Dolon nearly fired me Saturday. They're shipping Colby to Beijing. Megan, you they want to hire away to Washington." Colby noted he'd deliberately left Charlie out of the equation. His brother may not have been officially with the FBI, but that didn't mean he wasn't part of the team, or any less valuable.
"Seems like we keep with the theme of leaving me behind," David muttered, but without malice.
Don ignored the pity comment and charged ahead like a steamroller. "Don't you wonder why the one demand Ashby made—the one thing he insisted on—was to talk to us? Why us? Why Charlie? It was plain Black Rain wouldn't have been able to kidnap Charlie without inside help."
Please. Please let Don not be suggesting what Colby thought he was.
Nothing good came from walking this path. Didn't they know what Black Rain, what the NSA, what the FBI were capable of? They'd nearly destroyed his life; they wouldn't blink to destroy his friends either.
"Ashby knew Colby's name was on the List and that he worked closely with us. David, he knew you'd be crossing the bridge that morning, just like you do every morning. He planned to blow it sky high, rigging it took premeditation and more than a week's worth of time. He indirectly used Naomi Vaughn. Their relationship and emails started several weeks before he was poisoned with Thallium. He knew Charlie'd done work for the NSA and that he works with us on a regular basis.
"The man moved seamlessly in the intelligence community for decades," Don went on. "Megan, what if he also knew what your assignment for the DOJ was? What if the Department of Justice already had the names on his Janus List because he'd already given it to them! Wasn't it convenient you returned the very morning Ashby bombed the bridge? Wasn't it convenient that the extremely busy Assistant Director of the FBI—" Don stopped abruptly and his eyes got big.
Nothing!
"Why us? What if there was more Ashby wanted us to uncover?"
"Do you think…."
"What, Colby?"
"I'm not exactly comfortable suggesting this," he hedged. "What if," Colby licked his lips. "What if the Janus List's just the tip of the iceberg?"
There was a chill in the garage that had nothing to do with the weather or darkness outside.
"This isn't something to take lightly," Colby continued. "You three still have the ability to walk away safely. That's not a luxury I have. And I'm not going to drag you into the current with me if I can't help it."
"We're in this with you," Don tried to assure him.
Don was thinking clearly for the moment—all focus and pent up energy—his earlier logic was proof of that, but Colby could recognize the adrenaline for what it was. He'd crash eventually like a broken wave. None of them could prevent it. None of them could soften the blow. And when Don went down….
"You've made most of the jump, but you're not at the point of no return yet. First, we have Charlie's life to consider."
"We'll get him back safe," Don said too quickly. Out of the corner of his eyes Colby saw Megan flinch at Don's word choice. Don may be restricted from the case, but Colby knew Don couldn't give up command with the snap of his fingers.
"And then what?" Colby asked the hard question.
"Then what, what?"
"Are you willing to see this to the end? No matter the cost? Don, I can help try'n rescue Charlie. I can unearth Black Rain's dirty little secrets, but right now I'm not sure you—Megan and David, you too—understand the scale of what we could expose. It's a choice you're going to have to make on your own. Talk about it. Decide. I know I can't be here while you do."
With a noticeable glance over his shoulder Colby left them to discuss their fate.
"Bit of a disagreement?" Alan asked him as soon as he'd crossed the threshold into the living room.
Colby didn't know what to say to that, but finally settled for the obvious. "You heard?"
"It was hard not to," Alan paused and then added, "What family doesn't have its disagreements?"
"None that I know of."
"It was good of you to come."
"I was there when Don got the call and…" Colby shrugged to end the sentence.
"I see." There was a wealth of meaning in those two words. Alan Eppes saw more than most detectives and could profile someone as spot on as Megan could. "It's good to hear my son isn't a fool. I trust you aren't either."
"I hope not."
Alan clapped him on the shoulder, "You're not. I'm glad the two of you finally cleared the air, but will that be enough?"
"Sir?"
"I have two sons," Alan stated. "One's been kidnapped and I'm powerless to save him. That power should normally rest with my older son, but Don—"
"Don'll be restricted from the case."
"So that leaves my eldest just as powerless as me. Even as a child Don's never dealt with the loss of control well. I have two sons," he repeated as Megan and David stepped out of the garage. "Charlie's been taken from me—I can't change that—but Don's on the verge of falling apart, and maybe, just maybe you three can be a part of preventing that."
"He has us, Alan," Megan replied.
"And we will," David said and then directly looking at Colby added, "No matter the cost."
Colby accepted the silent apology and prayed he hadn't just condemned them all.
-oOo-