Chapter 4
"Here you guys are, what are you doing in here?" Agent Booth said, walking into the surveillance office.
"How'd you find us?" Brennan asked.
"When no one would answer their phone, and there was literally not one face I recognized in the lab, I asked at the security desk," he explained.
"Did you get anything at the meat-packing plant?" asked Cam, hopeful.
"No," he said. "No one had any beef with the guy." Then he seemed to realize his pun, and started laughing.
Sweets turned around from his position at the monitor and pointed at Booth. "Heh, beef. I like it," he said, and laughed along briefly.
"No one? No flirtations, jealousies, petty theft from an employee locker? Lost football bet? Someone didn't like the way he combed his hair?" Cam asked.
"Nada that I could find, " Booth said, flopping exasperatedly into an empty chair.
"What about the grocery delivery service?" asked Brennan.
"Same thing. Nada. Guy ordered his fruits and veggies and bread and milk every Monday morning, got a delivery every Tuesday afternoon, via the landlord, and the customer always paid his bill on-time, including a generous tip for the delivery person."
"Did the tip always make it to the correct delivery person?" asked Angela.
"I asked each delivery person who still works for the service and has ever delivered to Charlie Hasbrook's address. And it did," Booth answered flatly. "They said he always tipped at least twenty-five per cent, and even more around the holidays. No evidence at all that the landlord ever pilfered. So... yeah, I've got squat. Except for that guy with the red shoes."
"What guy with the red shoes?" asked Brennan.
"Oh, it's probably nothing. There was a guy at the crime scene," Booth explained. "He was dressed in FBI gear, but I'd never seen him before... and I make it a point to know all of the junior agents. This has happened before - it's always turned out to be nothing to worry about. He's probably new. I just haven't gotten around to checking into it yet."
"But if he's got no right to be at the crime scene..." Cam began.
"I know, I know," Booth finished.
"When you say red shoes," Cam asked, after thinking it over for a few seconds. "Do you mean Converse? Like those awful old 1960's Chuck Taylor hipster things?"
"Yeah."
"Did he have a British accent?"
"I don't know, I didn't hear him talk."
"Is this the guy?" Cam asked, pointing at the screen.
Hodgins lingered in the doorway of the bone room, watching the man in the pin-striped suit aim his buzzing blue light into the corners and under the supply cart. An excited knot formed in his stomach, and in spite of himself, he smiled.
"Wow," he whispered.
When the stranger had exhausted his five minutes alone with the remains, he turned and walked back toward the doorway, where he immediately spied Hodgins lurking, half-concealed.
"Oh," said the stranger, slightly startled. "Hello." He swallowed hard and shoved the buzzing device back into his coat pocket.
Hodgins sauntered slowly up to the man. "So," he said, quite nervous and trying not to show it. "Where's the TARDIS?"
The man immediately broke eye contact, shifting his gaze down at Hodgins' shoes. "The... I'm sorry, the what?"
Hodgins chuckled. "I can't believe it," he said, his bright blue eyes dancing over the man's face. "You're actually real, aren't you?"
"As are you."
"You're the Doctor."
"As are you."
"No, I am a doctor," said Hodgins. "Three times over, as you know. Doctorates, those things, they're a dime a dozen in this building. But you... you're one of a kind. The Doctor." He was still careful to keep his voice low.
The Doctor said nothing, merely severed eye-contact once again, and nervously scratched his nose.
Hodgins asked, "Is that... that thing you were aiming into the corners, that's the sonic screwdriver, isn't it?"
The Doctor nodded. No words.
"May I see it?" asked Hodgins, holding out his hand. "I swear, I won't point it at anything or damage it. I just want to see."
A pause, during which the Doctor contemplated the man before him with a scowl. Then he reached into his pocket reluctantly, and handed the sonic screwdriver over.
As Hodgins turned it over and over in his hands with eyes bright like a little kid, he said, "This is unbelievable. Manipulates matter using soundwaves. I can't even fathom a tool this size that can be that concentrated and precise with sound waves! To pick locks and maneuver with actual data, encrypt and decrypt... the mind boggles!"
"Yes, well..."
"According to Dr. Michio Kaku at Harvard, that sort of technology won't even be possible for at least a thousand years. Probably more like fifteen-hundred!"
"Well, not on this planet," muttered the Doctor, but Hodgins didn't seem to hear him. "Can I have my screwdriver back?"
"Yeah," Hodgins said, handing it over.
The Doctor said, "The U.S. State Department have a file on you, as well as the FBI. Says you're a conspiracy theorist, but benign."
Hodgin's arms fell to his sides in annoyance, and his face immediately came over equally irritated. "I hate the word benign. I am not benign!"
"Oh, sorry. Do you want people to think you're going to blow up Norad?" asked the Doctor. Then he gestured as if to wave away Hodgins' insecurities. "Trust me, I am not listed as benign in most of this planet's government databases, and it's a blooming great pain in the arse, is what it is. Feel lucky. Anyway... how did you know it was me?"
"The psychic paper," said Hodgins. "I didn't trust you - I thought your creds would be fake. When I looked over Angela's shoulder at it, it seemed to blip and blink in and out, and it changed to something else, right before my eyes."
"Ah. In a regular person, it wouldn't matter that you expected to see a fake, but you... I guess your mind is more open than most. The psychic paper is able to make an amalgam of what you expect to see, and what I want you to see. I guess there was a glitch in the system somewhere. The only other human being on whom it hasn't worked is William Shakespeare."
"Seriously?" Hodgins asked with a childish grin, rather more loudly than he might have liked.
"Yeah," the Doctor said, annoyed at the memory. "Told me it was blank, the cheeky Bard."
"You've met Shakespeare? Holy crap! Who else?"
"Dr. Hodgins, much as I'd love to run down my adventures with you, we really don't have the time," the Doctor said. "Maybe sometime over tea, eh?"
"Sure, sure," Hodgins conceded, shaking it off. "So... don't keep me in suspense. Did you find anything? What were you doing with the sonic screwdriver?"
"Well, I think you might be just the man to be at my right-hand on this. One of your degrees is in botany, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Have you ever studied wood spores?"
"Of course."
"Have you ever studied wood spores from other planets?"
Booth, Brennan, Sweets and Angela had returned to Brennan's office, while Cam went to find the stranger. Booth had recognized the man on the screen as the man from the crime scene, with reasonable certainty, and had gotten immediately on the horn to verify his ties to Scotland Yard.
Cam returned to the room with Hodgins and the interloper in tow.
"Agent Booth!" the man said excitedly. "Oh, lovely, now the whole gang is here!"
"All right, listen, pal," said Booth. "I checked you out with Scotland Yard, and they don't have any record of an agent named John Smith, who matches your description, and they definitely haven't heard of anyone being sent to the States to work on a possible murder that occurred in FBI jurisdiction. Also, I saw you yesterday at the crime scene, which is just really freakin' suspicious. So you'd better start talking right now, beginning with how you got fake Scotland Yard credentials, or you're under arrest."
"Okay, okay, fair enough," said the stranger, hands raised in disarmed fashion. "I'm not who I said I am, but..."
"Maybe you'd better let me," Hodgins said, stepping forward, spreading his arm across the Doctor's chest gently.
The Doctor was taken aback, but let Hodgins do the talking, for now.
"I think we should trust this man," said Dr. Hodgins. "I know a little bit about him - I've known of his existence for years - and I think he can help us. I know he can. But in order for him to do that, you all are going to have to lay your egos on the table and open up your minds a little bit. Do you think you can do that?"
"Okay, what are you talking about, Hodgins?" asked Booth, clearly annoyed.
"Look, Booth, you're a man of faith," reasoned Hodgins. "So am I, after a fashion. You and I, we both believe that there is life and phenomena beyond what we can see right in front of us. Wouldn't you agree?"
"I'm a Catholic. You're a nutball conspiracy theorist. I'd hardly call us kindred spirits."
"Nevertheless, you and I, we have something very fundamental in common there, we're just cut from a different cloth, that's all. Cam, you're a reasonable woman. You know that the world isn't just black and white. It's not all just science and not-science. There are things in-between, grey areas, things we cannot see, or just haven't learned about yet. And Angela... I know I can count on you..."
"Maybe," Angela said. "But first you have to tell us what the hell is going on!"
"I'm called the Doctor," said the man in the suit, stepping forward. He was very earnest "Just... the Doctor... which, in and of itself, people tend to find strange. But, well, as you may have guessed, I don't exactly operate within normal channels. I'm an investigator, yes, but I'm not Scotland Yard. I know loads and loads about science, I'd wager, more than everyone in this room put together, but no, I don't have any degrees from any university you'd have heard of."
"Doctor..." Cam tried.
"Please let me finish, Dr. Saroyan. I'm coming clean, here, okay?" the Doctor told her gently, knowing that coming clean was something that might win her over, with her law-enforcement background. "I know what I'm talking about, and you would do very well to trust me, and let me help you. I know how Charles Hasbrook died, but when Dr. Hodgins talks to you about faith, and asks you to lay your egos on the table, there is a reason for it. What he is trying to say is that, when I tell you the truth, your hard-science minds will resist it. But you have to allow yourselves to entertain what I'm saying, or we are all going to die trying to solve this case."
"Doctor..." Sweets now tried in his turn.
"I'm not delusional, Dr. Sweets," said the Doctor, evenly. "At least not about who and what I am, and not about Charles Hasbrook's death."
Hodgins came forward again. "He's told me the truth, you guys, and it's amazing! It will blow your minds!"
"I can't believe what I'm hearing," Brennan muttered, annoyance rising in her voice. "Why are we even listening to this?"
"No, Bones, let them say what they have to say," said Booth, curious now as to how much faith he could and would actually put into whatever Hodgins and the Doctor had to say.
"May I do the honors?" Hodgins asked the Doctor.
"Please," conceded the Doctor.
"All right, I have looked at wood spores a million times over in my life, and I am an expert in botany. But until today, I never realized, it never even occurred to me how limited my expertise actually is. And do you know why? Because my expertise is limited to this planet!"
Brennan burst out laughing, without compunction, without hiding her derision.
Hodgins glared at her with annoyance, but kept talking. "There is a species of parasite, a microorganism that lives in wood spores on just about every planet in the universe, only on Earth they are relatively uncommon. And they are carnivorous. They travel in packs, in swarms, and when a few billion of them come together, they can strip flesh from bone. Cleanly, quickly, efficiently, leaving no traces."
Dr. Brennan was laughing again. "This man feeds you campfire legends from faraway planets, and you believe him?"
Hodgins put his hands on his hips. "Okay then, Dr. B. How did the victim become skeletonized in a matter of a few days with no sign of decomp or damage to the bones?"
"I don't know, but it's not a swarm of parasitic microorganisms!"
The Doctor stepped toward her. "How can you be so sure?"
"I am a scientist," she shot at him squarely.
"So am I," Hodgins said. "But being a scientist does not mean our minds are closed. I know, Dr. Brennan, I know that there are things in this world that cannot be explained with our science, and if you can't accept that, then... I feel sorry for you. I do."
She was smirking now, crossing her arms over her chest.
For a long moment, everyone in the room just looked at each other, and wondered who would break the silence.
Finally Cam said, "Hodgins, when you say you know about this man, what do you mean?"
"I mean, his presence can be felt all over the internet. I mean, if you look hard enough, you can see his involvement throughout history in..."
"Dr. Hodgins," the Doctor whispered. "Best not."
Hodgins sighed. "There are numerous online groups devoted to him, his history, sightings, thoughts, words and deeds... and the stories are consistent."
Cam was not convinced.
Hodgins tried again. "Dr. Saroyan, I have done exemplary work for you. I have done nothing but give my all, to maintain the reputation of the Jeffersonian, and find out who murdered individuals who can no longer speak for themselves. You must know on some level that you can trust me. I'm telling you: I know who the Doctor is, and I know enough to put my confidence in him."
"Via conspiracy theories," Brennan commented mockingly. "And chat rooms."
Cam put up a hand, non-verbally asking Dr. Brennan to silence herself. Then she said, "Booth, what do you think?"
He was staring the Doctor in the eye carefully, with scrutiny, with curiosity. "I think there are more things in Heaven and Earth," he said. "But I still don't trust this guy."
"What would you do if you were me?" she asked.
"The cop in me wants to haul him out of here. The man of faith wants to hear what he has to say."
"I'm with you there. Plus, there's a scientist in me who wants answers, and we are really short on those, without his help," she thought aloud. "Angela?"
"I want to pull out a bowl of popcorn and find out how this turns out," she answered. "Oh, and also, I agree with Booth on the more things in Heaven and Earth front."
"Sweets?"
"Harmless. Knowledgeable. Surrounded by security guards and law-enforcement," Sweets shrugged.
Cam stared at the man in the blue suit for some time before announcing, "Doctor, if you're here to jerk us around in any way, I will have you for breakfast."
"Understood," he answered.
"Knowing that I will see you imprisoned for obstruction of justice if it turns out you are lying to us about anything, do you still wish to proceed with aiding us in the investigation?"
"No question."
"Hodgins, I'm holding you responsible for any damage or derailment."
"Fine," Hodgins nodded.
"All right. What's our first step?" asked Cam.
The Doctor took a deep breath and responded, "Make the entire facility as bright as possible. Turn on every light you have, at full-pelt. Then, we'll need to push all moveable pieces of furniture to the periphery of the rooms and do our best to form a perimeter of meat."
For a few long moments, everyone just looked at the Dotor, blinking with confusion.