Manipulation part 13

By Ecri

Don watched Buchmann. His anxieties hadn't disappeared, not exactly, but they'd taken a backseat to his experience. He assessed Buchmann's words, his body language, his demeanor, and he managed to pick up on something that Buchmann hadn't intended to give away. Buchmann was afraid. Of what, Don couldn't guess. Something hadn't gone the way the man intended, but what?

As far as Don could see, he had them right where he wanted them. Appearances were, apparently, deceiving. Deciding to play along for awhile, Don adopted the role Buchmann had cast him in. "What is it you want, Buchmann?"

Buchmann smiled, and Don could almost believe that he thought he was in control.

"I intend for your father to live with the sort of horror I've lived with since he interfered with my business."

Don shook his head. "He wasn't as involved as you think."

"On the contrary, he wasn't as uninvolved as you think."

"Cut to the chase, Buchmann."

"I want him to know what I suffered."

Don stared at the man trying to understand. He'd tried to recall details of Buchmann's case, but even David's digging hadn't produced much besides the broad brushstrokes. The details were lost except to his father, and, of course, Buchmann. Don spared a glance at Charlie more to assess his proximity to Buchmann's thugs. He didn't see what he expected.

He'd thought Charlie would be straining to get to their father, that his face would be awash with emotion, fear chief among them. Instead, Charlie stood, still and calm, his eyes immediately on Don's waiting, Don could tell, for some signal.

Don tried to convey his understanding of Charlie's preparedness, and, somehow, he knew Charlie got it. His next glance was for his father. He hadn't looked up when they'd entered, and Don more than suspected that he was unable. Losing his patience, Don turned to Buchmann. "Whatever you're planning, Bookman, it won't work. You're not going to get away with it."

Buchmann clucked his tongue at him in irritation. "I expected more from you than hard-boiled cliches from kitschy detective novels, Agent."

Don glared at him and was about to reply, when a surprised sound from Charlie drew his attention. He took a step closer to his brother, but Buchmann himself reached out and took his arm in a vice like grip. Don turned and looked him in the eye only to see blazing eyes and a malicious grin.

"We're just making him comfortable." Buchmann gestured toward Charlie, and Don turned back to his brother.

The goons had tied Charlie to a chair not taking care with his fractured wrist at all if Charlie's yelps of pain were any indication. They twisted his wrist at an odd angle, and he cried out. "Donnny!"

"Let him go!" Don spat the words. Only the gun still trained on him by one of the goons kept him from racing to his brother's aid.

Buchmann shook his head as that slow, grin slowly disappearing as he spoke. "Now, Agent Eppes, I've gone through a lot of trouble here. You might as well settle down and enjoy my hospitality."

Terry had waited with an outwardly calm appearance for a chance to speak to David alone. He was the only one left whom she trusted completely. She'd told Don that if things went sour, she and David would decide how much to trust Kraft and Pierce. He'd smiled, but she could tell that he had already known that. It seemed they'd reacquired the close relationship they'd had before he'd moved to New Mexico, before she'd gotten married and divorced, before their unexpected reunion here in the LA offices.

It was both a comfort and an embarrassment, at least until she began to settle into it. He, too, had been shocked by the ease with which they'd fallen into their old patterns. She realized now that it shouldn't have been a shock, at least for her. Caring about Don had always been easy. Now, they were just professional enough not to let the caring interfere with the job.

Finally, while Kraft was on the phone looking for answers to questions they couldn't ask through official channels, and Pierce was poring over Charlie's arrest reports for some unfathomable reason, she managed to pull David aside.

"We have to go after Don and Charlie."

David's eyes widened. "I know that, Terry. That's what Kraft's trying to do: find us a starting point." He stared at her. "So...what you're saying is you've already got a starting point."

Terry nodded. She pulled out a slim device, almost like a remote control for a TV, except it had an LCD screen and showed a red dot. "Hang on!" David said, then lowered his voice. "That's a GPS. How'd you..."

Terry sighed. "Don had a feeling this would come down to him having to give himself up to Buchmann. He managed to swipe this and the tracking device before we left the office. Just before he and Charlie left, he swallowed the tracking device."

David shook his head. "Shoulda guessed. He wanted to be taken..."

Terry nodded. "But he thought we could save Charlie, keep him at least from being in Buchmann's control."

"So...we aren't telling Kraft?"

"I told Don that if things went sour, you and I would handle it. Do you trust Kraft and Pierce?"

"Don did."

"That's not what I asked."

"I trust them. Kraft's done a lot he didn't have to, and Pierce...well, I don't like him, but I think he's genuinely trying to make good on this." He paused considering what she hadn't said. "What about you. Do you trust them."

"I trust Kraft. Kraft trusts Pierce."

"So...are we telling them or not?"

Terry knew it was her call. David would go along with her decision. She just wasn't sure what her decision was going to be.

Until she made it.

"Yeah. We tell them. We're too short handed, and like I said, I trust Kraft."

David nodded. "Is there anyone else you can trust?"

She considered it. An answer flew into her head as if it had been waiting there for her to stumble upon it. She nodded, and reaching for the phone. As she waited for an answer, she cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner.

Alan stared forlornly at the speakers then whirled around to face Mason once more. He took a menacing step toward the man, and watched him take a step back from him. "If my boys aren't all right..."

"Alan, we're monitoring the situation."

"Monitoring? You must know where they are if you can pick up their conversation! Why not go in and get them?"

"It's not that easy. We have a case..."

"I'm sick to death of that! I didn't want to hear it! You got me to help you twenty-five years ago because of your 'case'! Well, here we are twenty-five years later, and the case isn't closed yet!" He waved a hand toward the closest speaker. "My boys are in danger. The one thing you swore you could do was protect my family. If you can't catch the Bookman, and you can't protect my family, how in the hell have you managed to keep your job all these years?"

"Calm down, Alan! We're going to help."

Alan blinked. "You are?"

"We are...just...not right now."

Alan felt his rage boil up from his soul. It was more than he could bear to lose Donny and Charlie now. It couldn't happen. He wouldn't let it happen. Moving before he'd even realized he'd decided to do it, he suddenly had Mason's throat in his hands. The man's eyes bugged out, more from surprise than any pain Alan was causing. Contrary to appearances, he was in control of himself. When he spoke, it was in a calm, rational voice.

"Jeff, there's only one thing I ever wanted from you, and you know what it is. My Donny is an agent with the FBI. Not to be left out, my Charlie has security clearance at the highest level. You can't tell them anything that they can't keep to themselves. If this is some sort of ploy to keep them from learning something or some sort of misguided 'need to know' nonsense, they need to know. Now, you bust in there and save them both, or your life won't be worth living." He squeezed Mason's throat just enough to convince the man that he was still as strong as he'd ever been no matter what his age was. Then he released his grip, turning away to see what else he could learn about his sons' predicament.

He knew Jeff's eyes were on him, but he'd said all he needed to say.

Terry stared at the GPS. Don and Charlie hadn't moved. She handed the device to David as she stood intending to get another cup of coffee. It was then that there was a knock at the door. She turned to David, and he drew his weapon, nodding when he was in position on one side of the door.

Kraft and Pierce hurried in from the other room. "That better be someone we can trust."

"It is." She hadn't told him who she'd invited to the party, but she'd told him that she'd called someone in. Taking a deep breath, gun in hand, she opened the door a crack and peered out. Sighing in relief, she opened it wide and stepped out of the way.

"Kim, thanks for coming."

Kim Hall nodded, her eyes darting all over the room. "Just the four of you?"

Terry nodded. "Who'd you bring?"

"A handpicked team. Five of my best agents."

Two entered with her.

"The others are checking the perimeter. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. I'm just glad you were able to get here so quickly."

"We were wrapping up a case in San Diego when I got your call." She looked Terry in the eye. "I hope you can give me more details. Is Don okay?"

Terry nodded. "We think so." She handed the GPS to Kim and brought her, her agents, and Kraft and Pierce up to date. "Now with ten of us, maybe we can get them back."

Kim looked to Kraft. "I hope you don't mind, sir, but my team is ready for an extraction. If you'd prefer to command yourself..."

Kraft waved aside the consideration. "No need for that. This is unofficial at best. We're working without a net...that is we were until you showed up."

Kim placed a suitcase she'd been carrying onto the coffee table. "I've brought something of an arsenal." Opening the case, and gesturing for the other two agents to do the same with similar cases they held, she revealed rifles, tear gas, kevlar vests, riot helmets, and more.

David whistled in appreciation. "You've got some good toys."

She grinned. "We're going to need them."

She turned to Kraft. "By the way, sir, I've talked to my superior, and he'd like to speak to you when this is over. He won't be saying a word about it to anyone until he hears from you."

"I'm sure that will be some conversation."

"Not as bad as you might think." She grinned as she started handing out the vests. "We need to finalize our attack plans before we go in there."

"We need some recon first. David and I will go to the location and scout it out. If we can move closer to the target area, we'll be able to go after them that much quicker."

"We'll follow you then. We can take cover nearby and wait for your report."

Terry was surprised that Kim was so willing to defer to her authority, but she was sure it was for Don's sake. She knew the other woman had loved him, that Don had loved her. That had been one reason she'd believed she could trust the Kim. That, and the fact that she was in the Secret Service, not the FBI.

Terry and David took what equipment they thought necessary, but they wanted to travel light. In moments, they were on their way. Hang on, Don, she thought. Just hang on.

David stared at the bunker. "It's small." His voice was a whisper. They didn't trust that Buchmann didn't have sound sensitive surveillance equipment on the perimeter.

Terry's eyes were taking in the chain link fence, the obvious alarms, and other security measures. She was fairly certain there was more to the place then met the eye. That, and her GPS indicated that they were close to Don and Charlie's position. If they were close, the brothers were either behind that door or perhaps below ground. She'd seen a ramp curving downwards and a car leaving what had to be a below ground parking facility. It was possible that the bulk of the place was below ground. She'd never have built an underground facility this close to a fault line, but they already knew the guy wasn't exactly stable.

They'd already made three circuits around the place. "We'd better get back. She glanced at the darkening sky. "With any luck, we can have them out by dawn."

The two returned to the waiting vans.

Kim and Kraft were setting up some equipment and had the parabolic ears up and running. Then a strange box was placed near the fence and switched on. Kim gestured toward it. "Interferes with video signals. It should mask our presence as long as we're quiet."

It was then that another group of cars approached the clearing. Terry didn't know who they were, but the cars were official. It wasn't until she saw Alan Eppes leaping out of the back of one of the cars even before it came to a halt, that she started to move toward the cars.

"Alan!" She moved to his side, and smiled at the relieved look on his face. "We thought...Buchmann doesn't have you?"

Alan ignored the question. "Terry! You're here! Is Donny in there? Is Charlie?"

"Take it easy, Alan. Yeah. They're in there. We're going in after them. What are you doing here? Buchmann said he had you. Don only came to get you out." Terry didn't hide her confusion.

Neither did Alan. "Me? No. Jeff came to the house, or rather, Jeff sent his people to pick me up. I didn't have much choice."

She'd glanced at the other man who'd driven Alan here. She raised an eyebrow when she recognized him.

"Agent Lake." Mason greeted her as though they were meeting at a picnic rather than at a raid.

She nodded at him.

Pierce stepped forward. "Sir?" He was obviously puzzled.

Mason nodded. "Pierce. Who's in command here?"

Kraft nodded toward Kim. "I suppose we are."

"I've got about twenty men including myself. Can you use us?"

Kim nodded. "We wouldn't turn you down, sir."

Mason nodded, but returned his own attention to Alan. "I never meant for this to go this far, Alan. They were supposed to be safe."

Alan nodded. "Then save them."

Terry didn't know exactly what was going on, but she welcomed the extra manpower. She counted the cars and other agents as they arrived, surprised to see an ambulance standing by. "You came prepared."

Mason looked grim and didn't bother replying.

Terry was about to say something, when they heard Don's voice through the parabolic equipment.

"We're here, Bookman. Now let our father go."

Alan looked at Terry and she knew he wanted to spare Don from having to play Buchmann's game.

Terry could hear the sneer in the man's voice. "I'd love to agent, but I won't."

"We had a deal!"

Don's anger made two of the agents flinch.

"We did, but I have decided Alan needs more than to know that you both are dead. Once I've killed you, I'll kill him."

"That's it," Kim called to the group. "We've got a declaration of intent to commit multiple homicides."

"It's not enough. We need him to admit that he killed those 9 people he framed Charlie for killing." Terry didn't know if Don would even think to bring that up. His concern was for Charlie.

"That'll bring your death count up to a dozen, Bookman. Twelve counts of murder do not make for a quick parole!"

She could have kissed Don. She would have if he'd been closer.

"Those murders were necessary to my plan. They were casualties of a war your father declared on me twenty-five years ago."

There was a pause, and then the unmistakable sound of a gun's safety being taken off.

"As a matter of fact, I don't much care if Alan sees what I do to you." There was a shot amidst screams from Don and Charlie.

"Nooooo!

"Don't do it, Bookman!"

A second shot turned Terry toward the bunker. "We'd better move."

The team took up their weapons and surged forward.

Buchmann watched the faces of his captives. Their anguish was exquisite. He didn't really regret the death of the man who'd posed as Alan. It had been necessary to the ruse. He had them off balance now. He had them where he wanted them. Later he would send a video of all of this to Alan. It wouldn't be used as evidence against him, because he'd alter his own image. Besides, his private plane was waiting to get him out of the country. He'd go someplace where he could avoid extradition.

He saw Charlie struggle against the ropes that bound him tightly to his chair. He saw the rage on Don's face. This was as delicious as Alan's suffering would be later.

Don was talking to Charlie now. His words meant to distract his distraught brother. Buchmann allowed it. He knew it was about to get desperate for them.

Charlie ceased his struggles and an odd look came over his face. Don, seeing it, called out to his brother. "What is it, Charlie?"

He pulled at his ropes. "Don...it's...my skin...it burns!"

Buchmann watched as Charlie grew frantic. Treating the ropes with a chemical activated by body heat had been an inspiration, albeit a last minute one. Buchmann could see that Don wanted nothing more than to rip the ropes from his brother's body, but the gun his man held on the agent kept him at bay.

"You'll be killed if you try to help him," Buchmann insisted.

Don glared at him, and Buchmann saw the raw hatred, but it didn't frighten him. Don couldn't hurt him. Don couldn't help his brother.

Buchmann nodded to the man holding the gun on Don. Without another word, the man crossed to Don's side and held his arms firm. Don struggled against the grip, but couldn't break it.

Slowly, deliberately, Buchmann drew his own gun. It was something he rarely did, since he usually paid others to do this sort of thing for him. There were three people he would kill himself, however, and two of them were at his mercy.

He pointed the gun at the still struggling Charlie. The younger Eppes was struggling violently now, and was barely aware of his imminent demise.

Don was acutely aware.

"Nooo! Charlie!"

The cry brought Charlie's attention to Don, then to Buchmann. His struggles ceased as his eyes widened in apprehension at the sight of the gun pointed right at his chest.

Don struggled to comprehend that Buchmann had just killed their father. Unable to go to his side, he stared at the slumped form, but soon turned his attention to Charlie. His little brother had screamed as the shot had been fired, and his throat sounded raw from it. He was fighting against the tears even as he struggled against the ropes that tied him to the chair. It was when his brother stopped trying to break free of the bonds that Don understood the game had only just begun.

"What is it, Charlie?" He saw a stunned look on his brother's face, and he knew he couldn't possibly like the answer to his question.

"Don...it's...my skin...it burns!"

He took a step forward, but Buchmann's voice and the sound of a gun's safety being released halted him.

"You'll be killed if you try to help him."

He glared at the man, seething with emotion made raw by watching his father shot and seeing his brother tormented, not only by the ropes, but throughout the last few months.

When Buchmann sent his thug to hold him, Don knew the stakes were being raised. Buchmann raised the gun, and Don, in that instant, stomped on his captor's foot while simultaneously throwing his elbow into the man's stomach. He was racing a bullet, and he knew it was impossible to win, but just as he threw himself at Charlie, a sound reverberated through the room.

Don fell against Charlie, knocking the chair down and keeping his brother's body covered with his own. He reached over to tear at the knots on the ropes, burning his fingertips.

He heard Buchmann yell at his people, but he couldn't be sure what he was saying. His ears heard only a dull roar, and his eyes saw only the ropes.

He didn't know the bullet was lodged in his chest until he realized he couldn't inhale.

The agents rushed through the doorway shouting at the men standing guard. Several surrendered immediately, but a few tried to take down an agent or two before giving up.

Kim kept her eyes open for some sign of where the hostages were being kept. She had to think of them like that. Hostages. It kept things clinical, professional. Thinking of them in any other way...for instance as Don and his family...would only make it nearly impossible to do her job.

Room by room within the bunker, the agents swept through, herding Buchmann's men together. It didn't take long to seize the elevators and start to move through the building. With only ten agents, they had to move swiftly and economically. They couldn't afford to waste time or energy, or allow their momentum to wane. If it did, they'd lose their advantage.

They reached the last floor of the bunker and the elevator doors parted to reveal a long, narrow hallway. Racing toward the only door on that level, Kim felt her pulse quicken. Whatever else was going on, Don...no, not Don, the hostages, she told herself...would be behind that door.

She reached the door first, but waited until everyone was ready. Using hand signals, she gave the group a rundown of what they would need to do once they made it through the door. Kim was planning to go through first, until a hand on her arm stopped her. Terry. The look in her eyes was unmistakable. This is my party. He's my partner. I go through first. She nodded in easy acquiescence, understanding she had no claim on Don's future, only his past. Terry was Don's partner. She had every right to be first through the door.

On her signal, Terry threw the door open, shouting. "Federal agents! On the floor! Now!" The others followed echoing her words.

Buchmann stood with a gun in his hand, having obviously just fired. He raised it to fire again, ignoring the cries of "Drop the gun" that every agent was yelling at him.

He was just squeezing the trigger, aiming at a huddled mass on the floor that appeared to be Don and Charlie, when Terry shot first. Buchmann's mouth hung open in what appeared to be surprise, but in actuality, he was dead already, and falling slowly to the floor.

Terry and Kim, with David not far behind, reached Don.

Charlie was talking fast, begging Don to get up. That's when Kim saw the blood. She opened her mouth, but she heard Terry's voice before she could even think what to say.

"Oh, God." It was a whisper, but to Kim it spoke more eloquently than the most verbose of speeches.

Terry knelt by Don and Charlie, easing Don over and onto the floor. Charlie came up as well, ropes still clinging to him, and—smoking?

Kim issued orders, and Kraft took charge of the crime scene while she used her radio to call in an ambulance. Terry was trying to stop Don's bleeding, but the jacket she was using was already soaked through. Charlie wasn't helping. On his knees, he kept calling to Don, but Kim didn't think the older of the pair was going to come around any time soon.

"Donny?" He called, in a terrified whisper, tears running down his cheeks, brow furrowed and hands shaking. "Donny?" He said it over and over again.

David sat by Charlie. "Come on, Charlie, let me help you get out of those ropes."

Charlie jerked away. "They'll burn you. They burned Donny." He nodded toward the burns on Don's fingers, and Kim cursed as she reached over David and, using her own jacket to protect her hands, tore the ropes from him.

She saw the scorch marks on Charlie's flesh, the fabric of his clothes, and even on the cast that encased his wrist. Charlie, however, saw only Don.

What Don was seeing, she thought, was anyone's guess.

"Charlie..." The voice was soft but desperate.

They all stared at Don in surprise, but it was Charlie, perhaps because of his own desperation to communicate with his brother, who recovered first. "Donny, I'm here. It's all right."

"Charlie..." He raised a hand, and Charlie scooted closer to take it in his own. Don's eyes scanned him for injury, but found nothing he didn't already know about. He offered a small smile. "Charlie...you okay?"

"Yeah, Donny, I'm fine." Charlie answered hastily, willing to tell Don anything he wanted to hear, even if it meant denouncing all forms of mathematics as fraudulent.

Don reached up one bloodied hand, and touched Charlie's face. Charlie grabbed it, holding it there.

Don's smile faded, and his eyes rolled up until only the whites were visible, and then his body went slack.

Charlie's voice reverberated through the bunker. "Donny!"

To Be Continued