WYWH, Chapter 6: The Investigation Begins
Oswald trotted beside Don like a puppy as they approached the hotel.
"That was so cool, man. You really laid those guys out!"
He continued to rave until Don swung on him like an irritated rattler. "Damn it, Oswald, you should have told them about the redhead. I wouldn't have needed to drag your sorry ass out of the fire, and we might have Charlie back, already!"
Oswald hung his head, chagrined. "I'm sorry, man. Those guys confused me, and I was scared. I guess I kind-of forgot about her." He looked at Don hopefully. "What do we do now?"
"Your room is only 20 feet down the corridor. You came home with…Little Red Riding Hood…at 4:00 a.m. You heard nothing?"
Oswald shook his head. "No, man, and we were awake for a while, you know?"
"Spare me the details," Don ground out. They were almost to the hotel where the math symposium was being held. It was due to dismiss for the day in less than 30 minutes. "You come in and show me who Charlie went to dinner with, last night. We'll trace his steps from the last time you saw him."
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When Charlie awoke, it was agonizingly slowly. Though his eyes remained closed, the world spun more viciously than it had before. His head throbbed in tandem with his heartbeat, which he could feel in his cut and broken fingers, sliced feet, perforated backside.
His aching head lolled against his chest, and in a few moments he understood that he was sitting, ankles secured against the legs of a chair, hands tied in back. He groaned lightly, and heard a murmuring of voices.
"What the hell did you do to him? He was just supposed to be leverage, to get the Kittner kid to do what we wanted. No-one was even supposed to know that he was missing."
Charlie tried unsuccessfully to lift his head. There was something frighteningly familiar about that voice…
"Instead he's all cut-up and bleeding, he's got a black eye, and he's been drugged. There's blood evidence, police all over the hotel, and people at the sessions have been talking about it all day. Everybody knows that Eppes is missing, and the kid is being questioned. I heard some guys swearing they heard screaming around 3:30 this morning, you idiots!"
Charlie recognized the defensive low growl. The one with the gun. "We didn't cut him. Asshole did that himself. Broke a glass before we even got there. And it's lucky for you that we thought to bring something with us. Else a lot more people would have heard a lot more screaming."
A snort of disgust. "Some professionals I hired. Tell me, in your esteemed opinion, what I'm supposed to do with him now?" Charlie heard a crash, and jerked against his ropes. "And this laptop you brought along? What do you expect me to do with this? It's not even his! Where are your colleagues, with Kittner? The second that kid calms down, he's going to remember our conversation. It might be too late already!"
Charlie suddenly placed the voice, and groaned louder. His physical pain was not that much greater, but the knowledge of who was behind it hit him like a fist in the gut. Almost against his will, he tried again to raise his head.
This time he succeeded, and his eyes grew wide and damp with dismay at the cold, steel-blue eyes that stared back at him. His captor sighed, and looked again at the gunman. "You didn't even gag him." He looked back at Charlie. "Don't bother to scream, Eppsie. We're in an abandoned warehouse outside the city. No-one will hear you." He shoved at the sullen man beside him. "Find a damn gag, you useless troll!"
Charlie watched the gunman approach, pulling a soiled handkerchief out of the pocket of his jacket. He shuddered, and looked toward his captor, again. He whispered quickly, before he was gagged. "Marshall. Why are you doing this?"
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Oswald had pinpointed Dr. Marc Jason as part of the dinner party, and Don pulled him out of the flow of symposium traffic. They had found a group seating area in the lobby of the hotel, not far away.
Don launched directly into his purpose – enough time had already been lost. "Dr. Jason, I'm Federal Agent Don Eppes. I'm trying to find my brother, Dr. Charles Eppes. Oswald here tells me you had dinner with him last night?"
The man nodded and offered Oswald a tentative smile. "Yes, yes. I'm heartened to see you, young man. I had heard that you were being questioned."
"Chicago PD had their heads up…", Don started, and then stopped himself. "They wasted a lot of time messing with Oswald. How do you know Charlie?"
The doctor settled back in an overstuffed armchair and crossed one leg over the other knee. He held his hands in a "V" before his face, elbows propped on his crossed leg. "I first met Charlie at Oxford," he answered. "I teach at Cornell, now, but I was a visiting professor at Oxford the semester Charlie spent on that campus. I have followed his career with great interest. I lost out to CalSci and Dr. Fleinhardt, when Charlie decided to teach." He smiled at Don. "I made sure to put in a bid for Cornell."
"When did you see him last — before this conference, I mean?"
"Nearly two years ago, at a similar symposium at UCLA. He had not yet begun his impressive work with cognitive emergence. I was, literally, quite stunned with his presentation yesterday. An impressive amount of work in such a short time…" He shook his head and glanced again at Oswald. "It's hard to believe Charlie is old enough to take on a mentorship himself."
Don again interrupted the older man's memories. "What about last night? You went to dinner?"
The man dropped his hands onto his knee. One began to beat a staccato rhythem. "Yes, of course, to celebrate his keynote presentation. Remarkable work, simply…" He sensed Don's impatience and pulled himself back to the question. "There were five of us, in addition to Charlie. Dr. Karen Sinclair, Dr. Davis Matthews, Dr. Ken Studeman, myself, and my wife, Dr. Tarina Eckles-Jason. Tarina and I are also staying in the hotel next door, so after dinner, we walked back with Charlie."
Don frowned. "So at no point was he left alone?"
Dr Jason tilted his salt-and-pepper head. "Well, we were quite free with the bubbly. Everyone went to the restroom, at some point, of course. CalSci is on a slightly different academic schedule than most schools, and Charlie brought mid-terms with him to grade. He was having a wonderful time, but begged off at midnight, saying he had to get up at 4:30 this morning."
Don leaned forward a little in his own chair. "And you and your wife, you left him where?"
"His door," Dr. Jason stated emphatically. "Tarina and I had a room just four doors away, at the end of the hall. We saw him safely inside." He sat up straighter in the chair, suddenly, dropping both feet to the floor. "In fact, we stepped inside the doorway for a moment, while Charlie searched his suitcase for a brochure the CalSci mathematics department is working on. He brought it to the symposium to solicit ideas." He chuckled, and shook his head again. "At least, he intended to. Never did find it, I'm afraid."
Oswald, unaccountably pleased to have something worth offering, piped up. "That's because I have it. He gave it to me last time I was in his office, because he was afraid he would forget it!"
Don tossed him a look Oswald didn't quite understand, then turned back to Dr. Jason. "The room was in good order at that time?"
Again Dr. Jason smiled. "I'm not sure I would go that far, Agent Eppes. We are talking about Charlie, here. But it had not been ransacked, it that's what you're implying."
Don stood, to indicate that the interview was almost over. "Did you hear anything unusual, during the night?"
Dr. Jason stood and frowned. "No…but Tarina shook me awake around 3:30. She said she had heard screaming. Tarina is given to nightmares, but still I went to the door, opened it on the chain and peered out the crack into the corridor, to calm her. All I saw was the elevator door closing. There could not have been too many people in there, because I saw a housekeeper's cart taking up a great deal of space." He shrugged, looking sympathetically at Don. "Tarina may have heard some housekeepers speaking to each other, or something. I wish I could help you more, Agent Eppes. Tarina and I are very concerned about Charlie."
Don offered him his hand. "I appreciate what you've been able to tell me, Dr. Jason. I'll want to speak with your wife, later."
"Of course," the doctor agreed quickly. "Anything we can do. As I said, our room is down the hall and on the opposite side of the corridor: 2929, very easy to remember. Please contact us."
Don shook his hand and thanked him again, reaching into his pocket for a business card. His cell phone number was scribbled on the back.
The two Californians watched Dr. Jason leave, pocketing the card. Then Don turned to Oswald, the look Oswald couldn't name on his face again. Oswald shifted from one foot to the other. "What?", he asked, nervously.
Don sighed. "I need to get back in Charlie's room. Something seemed off, and I think I know now what it was. His laptop wasn't anywhere in plain sight. The perps may have taken it."
Oswald looked confused, and started thinking out loud. "No. They might think they have it, but all they have is mine. A few baseball games, some stats I have backed-up at home…nothing important…"
Don raised an eyebrow. "Your computer was in Charlie's room?"
Oswald shrugged. "Dr. Eppes said it was a security thing he and Dr. Fleinhardt always do when they travel together. Store each other's computers. Sounded kind-of lame to me, but it made the guy happy…"
The news didn't seem to make Don happy, however. "So these guys who think they have Charlie's computer…why would they want it? His cognitive stuff?"
To Don's utter surprise, Oswald's legs buckled and he fell back into his overstuffed chair. He paled rapidly, groaned loudly, and buried his head in his hands. Alarmed, Don kneeled down in front of him. "Oswald? Are you all right?"
The young man looked up and met Don's concern with horrified eyes. "Damn, Agent Eppes, those cops were right! Shit, I'm sorry! Oh, man, oh, man…" He was rocking slightly in the chair, and Don reached out a hand to steady him.
He spoke gently, afraid to hear the answer for reasons he didn't even know. "Oswald, what is it?"
Oswald took a deep, shuddering breath, and his voice cracked. "The cops are right. This is all my fault."