Numb3rs: Caffeine
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.
There should be a Surgeon General's Warning; Caffeine can be bad for your health.
Special Agent Don Eppes from the FBI's LA Field Office pressed his back tightly to the block wall as the bullets flew overhead. He popped up briefly as they stopped. He thought he saw some movement behind the opposite wall and fired off two rounds in response. There was a brief cry and he ducked back satisfied that at least one round had found it's mark. That only left a handful of assailants.
The agent turned to the man in the suit crouched beside him. The older grey haired man seemed remarkably calm given the circumstances. He'd seen his entire detail slaughtered. The man was also wounded, a graze to his left forearm, painful but not life threatening. Don hadn't seen the shot that resulted in the injury but there had been plenty of bullets flying around a few moments ago.
"Sir, are you armed?" Don asked.
"I have a TASER." The man answered as he finished wrapping his own arm with a handkerchief.
Don shook his head, a TASER. Fat lot of good against fully automatic weapons. The man pulled it out and showed him the small device. It was of the type that required actual contact, it didn't even fire the small metal needles. But then again, the man shouldn't ever need it. Don reached for his ankle holster and pulled out the smaller pistol he occasionally carried as a backup. He'd worn it this morning for a raid and had forgotten to take it off when he'd removed all his other kit, including the Kevlar vest. How he wished for the comfort of that vest now.
"You know how to use this?" The agent asked holding out the pistol.
The man took it from him, ejected the magazine and checked the bullets. The clip was slid firmly back home and the slide racked. The movements methodical, economical and clearly practiced. He'd obviously been trained. "I do."
"Are you wearing a vest, Sir?" He asked, receiving another affirmative. Don grimaced, the man he was trying to protect was safer than he was. The fact that he was protecting the man should never have happened. Don couldn't even have ever imagined that he would be in this position. That this man's fate would rest with him.
The side trip to the mall had not turned out the way he had expected. All he wanted was a coffee. The raid had failed, Miguel Castillo long gone and the vital evidence torched. Don and his team had packed up, handed over the scene to the CSIs and started back to the Field Office to do all the paperwork. At the last moment he decided against the filter coffee waiting in the break room, it was strong and extremely bitter but not what he wanted right now. He wanted a real coffee, a real caffeine hit that also tasted good. A muffin wouldn't have gone astray either. They were to fortify him for the rest of the day ahead, paperwork, paperwork and just for variety, more paperwork.
He'd called in his intentions to the rest of his team and pulled out of their small convoy. In response to their protests he had agreed to buy a round for his team and turned into the small shopping mall. The collection of black SUVs should have given him a heads up but no, he was dreaming about the coffee and mentally writing his first report as he made his way inside the building.
The lull was suddenly over, rounds again flying over their heads, others impacting the front of the block wall. A puff of tastefully arranged mulch flew up from the garden bed at the top of the wall and he realised that fire was now coming from a different angle than before. A new shooter, or one that had found a new position. Either way it didn't matter. Don turned slightly, popped back up and searched for the new threat. There, behind the column to his left. He squeezed off another precious round and ducked back. A miss.
He was already on his second magazine, he now had to make each shot count. The backup weapon that he'd handed to the older man contained nine rounds only. No, six, the older man had just fired three rounds blind to provide cover as Don moved. No spare magazines for it. They were up against a team of heavily armed men, at least five now remained, each with fully automatic weapons. And they were good, they had to have been to have taken out the older man's detail. Don knew he had no hope of getting out of this alive without help. Their only advantage was that the attackers had until now been hampered by trying to avoid hitting their target.
The man beside him was most likely going to be taken hostage rather than shot once Don was down. At the moment there was no 'if' Don went down, just 'when'. That the man was unlikely to be shot out of hand was of no comfort to the agent and his duty was clear. He had to do whatever it took to delay both eventualities for as long as he possibly could.
Surely the detail had got the alert out, back-up shouldn't be too far away. He brushed his belt with his spare hand only to discover his cell missing. He must have lost it when he'd dragged the detail's Principal to safety. He popped up and scanned the corridor on the other side of the wall. There it was, lying between him and the bodies of the last two members of the detail. Five yards away but it may as well have been up in space with Larry Fleinhardt for all the good it was there. He dropped back down to safety as a burst of fire was directed at him. His head was fair game.
"Sir, do you have comms?"
The man held up his wrist showing off his watch. "I've pressed the alert."
Don looked at the watch. It looked like an expensive Rolex, beyond that nothing special. But he would take this man's word that it was more than it appeared. "Did it work?"
"Yes."
"How long before they get here?"
Now the man frowned. "They should have been here long ago."
Don nodded. That probably explained the other gunfire he'd heard before, from outside the building. "I think they've been taken out, Sir. Just before the attack on you."
The man pursed his lips at the news. "I wondered why we started to move."
Don thought back to when this all started. He'd walked into the mall and made his way to the Starbucks. It was just as he'd entered the store, inhaling the aroma of fresh coffee, when he heard the first shots. They were muffled, clearly from outside the mall. He'd headed back out of the shop and started for the entrance when he'd seen the detail coming his way, weapons out and looking like they were ready to go to war. After catching a glimpse of the man in the middle he understood why. Fortunately for him Don had not yet drawn his weapon, if it had been in his hand he knew that the detail would have simply shot him and apologised to his family later. They did not have the luxury of asking for ID, not when they were clearly under attack already. Don had stepped back and dropped to the ground in a crouch to ensure he was not regarded as a threat as the detail swept by. Other shoppers screamed, scattered and some simply fell to the ground in panic.
That's when it had all well and truly gone to hell. A group of men dressed all in black and wearing body armour suddenly appeared, preventing the detail and their Principal from reaching the entrance. No words were exchanged between the two groups as bullets started flying. Two men from the detail grabbed the Principal and started dragging him to one side, towards the side of the mall where the Starbucks was located. Directly towards Don.
Don had pulled his badge out and held it up as they got nearer, announcing what he was. "FBI."
The lead man glanced at it in surprise before looking the agent square in the face over the top of his weapon. There was no trust in that expression. Don could understand that given the situation. He pulled back his jacket to show that he was armed but still made no move to pull the weapon out. A stray round from the fierce gun battle a short distance away suddenly ricocheted off the wall above him and he received a nod from the lead man. They were trained to make snap decisions Don knew as drew his weapon. He took a deep breath in relief, not only had the man held his fire, he had granted permission for the agent to assist.
"Fire exit, this way." Don had then suggested, jerking his head to his right. He'd been here before and remembered the exit located a few shops away adjacent to an eatery area.
The lead man nodded and the small party rapidly ran crouched over in the direction Don had indicated. There was a cry before they'd gone more than a couple of yards and Don looked back to see the tail man fall. The last surviving man shoved their Principal at Don and turned back to fight a rear guard action. The trust that had been missing moments before was now there in spades. The man was consigning a mission to the FBI agent, a mission that he couldn't fail.
Their eyes had locked for a heartbeat and Don knew he was looking at a man about to die. Don quickly nodded, accepting the mission and acknowledging the man's impending sacrifice before he had grabbed the older man's arm and pulled him away. He glanced back to be sure of his aim and fired towards their attackers. He then saw the last member of the detail fall, leaving Don now as the last line of defence.
Leaving him exactly where he was now, trapped behind a block wall tricked up as a garden bed, hoping backup would come storming in. Anytime now would be nice, sooner would be better. He dropped his magazine out to count the remaining rounds, eight making a total of nine including the one in the chamber. He slapped it back in. "How far away are the second team?"
"They shouldn't be far." The man answered.
"Mr Policeman!" A voice suddenly called.
The agent tensed. The call was clearly addressed to him. He glanced around, the mall was now practically deserted. The gunmen had not prevented the civilians from escaping, instead laying down covering fire to prevent Don and his charge from leaving the safety of the wall. The fire exit was tantalisingly close but they would be mown down before they'd moved more than two steps if they tried for it.
"Mr Policeman!"
The voice was accompanied by a staccato burst of gunfire into the concrete behind him, as if any punctuation was needed. The voice wasn't accented, just sounded like any other Angelino. That was a shock, given today's climate he would have bet Charlie's house the attackers were foreign.
Don glanced at the man beside him. It appeared that the gunmen wanted to negotiate. He received a nod. A delay was a delay and they were fast running out of ammunition. He gave it a few more seconds before yelling his carefully considered response. "FBI, asshole."
"Here's the deal, Fed." The man yelled back ignoring the insult. "Walk away and you live."
"Can't do that."
"Last chance, Fed. You don't get paid enough for this."
That was so true, Don thought. Good thing that money was not his main motivator. But, he could take the hint and run with it. "I can't just let you take him. Can we work something out?" He tried to make it sound like he would listen to an offer. Don looked back at the man beside him and found that he understood what the agent was trying to do, that he knew the agent wasn't trying to sell him.
"I'm offering you your life. That's the deal."
Don knew that there was no chance the gunmen would allow him to just walk away. They'd just killed a whole detail and an unknown number of men outside. Given the target this was an all or nothing exercise, there would be no half measures. "We both know you won't keep your side of the deal." Don yelled back.
"Unlike that bastard, I keep my word." The man insisted.
"Yeah, whatever."
"Send him out and let us take him." The man counter-offered after a few seconds. "Then you walk away."
"Not gonna happen." Don responded. As negotiations went it was a spectacular failure. Not much of a delay either.
There were sounds of movement, it was faint but in the now empty mall and with his hyper alert senses Don heard it. The attackers were jockeying for position using this lull for their own benefit. Don listed for a moment longer, trying to place their positions by sound alone. He nodded at his charge and pointed to the left. The older man raised his weapon above the wall and fired another few rounds blind in the direction indicated. He could not afford to show himself. Don used the cover raising himself up and firing two shots towards the right hand end of the wall opposite. One man went down, two solid hits. Seven rounds left to defend against at least four gunmen. The answering fire was expected but as long as their bullets harmlessly hit concrete or whizzed overhead he didn't care.
"Sir, you've got three rounds left." Don told the older man, voice raised to be heard over the gunfire. "You might want to think about saving at least one."
The man's face took on a determined expression. "Agent, if it comes to a foregone conclusion I want you to save yourself."
"No sir."
"Agent," the man started. He was accustomed to being obeyed.
"No sir." Don interrupted firmly. God, was he actually arguing with this man?
He was rewarded with a tight smile of acceptance. The man switched hands and held out his right hand. Don also transferred his weapon and the two men clasped hands.
"Thank-you."
"Sir." Don knew his duty. He was uninjured and had seven rounds left. While he could still fight he would do so. Nothing else was an option. He would not allow the gunmen to take this man.
Don looked around trying to find something that would help them escape. A few seconds diversion was all that they needed to make it to the fire exit. When they got outside, well, he'd just have to get to that if they ever made it that far.
Finally, someone was listening to him. A loud crash sounded from back towards the main entrance. It was followed by several more explosions and then gunfire. Another series of explosions sounded from the opposite direction, from where Don knew there was another exit. Their assailants reacted, shouting instructions at each other, preparing to meet the new threat. Don hoped it was the reinforcements he was waiting for but wasn't going to hang around to find out.
He used the dubious cover of a small decorative shrub to sit up and have a good look around. He saw the attackers changing positions, for the moment leaving their target uncovered. He was tempted to take the opportunity and take out some more of them but that would redirect their attention back at him and his charge. He had asked for a diversion and got it. Now was the time to use it.
The fire exit doors were about six yards away, across the tiled floor with no cover. The doors themselves were inset into a small alcove that could provide some protection once they'd reached it. Don had no intention of using that cover, he was getting them both out of the building as a matter of priority. He tapped the man beside him on the shoulder, pointing at his planned escape route. He received a nod and both men shifted position to ready themselves for the dash. Don raised his left hand with three fingers extended. He closed one finger at a time until he made a fist which he then punched forwards. At that moment they exploded from cover, aiming at the exit.
They made it to the alcove just as chunks of plaster exploded outwards, they'd been spotted. Don glanced backwards and fired three rapid shots, he now had just four left. Turning away he shoved his charge forward hard, there was no time to be gentle and they hit the door with a crash. The panic bar gave as it was designed to do and the door sprang open depositing them outside onto a narrow footpath. The mall's fire alarm sounded as Don grabbed the man's arm and started pulling him away from the building and across the parking lot. If they made it to the nearby road he would commandeer a car at gunpoint and get his charge away, the FBI building wasn't far.
Suddenly their path was blocked by four more men in black body armour. Don skidded to a stop and yanked his charge behind him. He grit his teeth and brought up his gun. It was hopeless but until his gun was empty…
The man in front of him lowered his rifle abruptly, showing his hands. The agent wasn't prepared for that and hesitated a moment. He kept his gun up however, and kept his left arm back holding the man safely behind him. He squinted in the bright light and took in more detail. He saw that the man was wearing a helmet and goggles, unlike the attackers. There was also the white outline of a printed badge on the man's armour. He flicked his gaze around and saw the same familiar badge on each man. He also noted that their weapons were directed back the way they'd just come, at the fire exit.
"Agent, we're here to help." The man said curtly.
Don wasn't sure what to do. He was outgunned and outnumbered but the man in front of him had lowered his weapon and was at his mercy. Don could kill him before the others would be able to stop him. He might then get lucky and take out a second man before he went down. On the other hand they might be who they appeared to be. Don just wasn't sure if he could take the chance. "Sir?" He directed the query to the man behind him.
"Code Gold." The grey haired man said stepping out from behind the agent despite the restraining arm.
"Whiskey-Hotel, Bravo-nine." The armoured man stepped forward slightly, ignoring Don's gun which was still pointed steadily between his eyes. "Shepherd, we're not secure. We have to move."
His charge's hand touched Don gently on his left arm. "Agent, they are my men. Stand down."
Obviously the code phrases matched, Don decided. There was no time to analyse this any further now. He had to take the man's word for it. The agent lowered his gun but maintained his grip on it all the same. The men formed up around them and they headed out at a run towards a black SUV parked near the corner of the building. There was no pursuit.
A door was flung open and the lead man shoved them both into the back seat. The door was slammed shut and seconds later the vehicle started to drive off. The delay was caused by allowing the armoured men to jump onto the vehicle's side steps. They now hung onto the rails bolted to the roof, weapons pointed outwards as they sped out into traffic. Don heard furious radio chatter and moments later more black vehicles joined them as they flew down the road.
Don was not surprised to find them turning minutes later into the underground garage of the FBI building. He knew that the building had to be part of a contingency plan, filled as it was to the gills with armed Federal Agents. A standing army to provide outer layers of protection until an extraction could be performed. They finally stopped a safe distance from the lifts, the armoured men leaping off to join those from the other vehicles to form a protective perimeter. A number of other men in suits approached their vehicle and opened the rear doors. As the doors opened Don heard the alert siren in the building. Every available agent would be rushing to defend the building.
Don climbed out of the SUV to be immediately fronted by one of the suits. "I'll take that weapon."
"No." Don refused, backing up slightly. He looked around to see where his charge was.
"Agent, protocol demands that you disarm."
"Stuff your protocol." He growled. The last twenty minutes had been tense and he wasn't about to surrender all control to others.
"Crandall, let him keep his weapon." The grey haired man said coming around to his side of the vehicle.
"But, Sir." Crandall started.
The man ignored him. He stood next to Don and handed him the backup weapon which he'd been loaned. He waited as Don, after a moment's hesitation, holstered both weapons.
"Thank-you, Sir."
"No, Agent. It is I who should thank you." He held his right hand out again. "Tom Brandt."
"Don Eppes." The agent shook hands. The man didn't need to introduce himself. "Sir, if I might ask, why were you in the mall?"
"All this in the name of coffee, Agent."
"What?"
"There is a deli in the food court that makes the best coffee in LA. When I'm in town I make it a point to have at least one cup." Brandt shook his head. "To think my entire detail died because I wanted a caffeine fix."
Don had been dragged into this mess and had faced the prospect of dying himself because of his desire for a caffeine fix. "Sir, you couldn't have known this would happen."
"I should have. This is a routine. I can't afford to have routines."
Hardly a routine, Don thought. The man had only been in town twice in the last year or so, always with short notice but on the flipside, always well publicised. Why anyone would aspire to the man's job was beyond him. The role was essential but not a job that the man who held it could enjoy. There was so much security but he would never feel secure. That this man's office could turn the simple everyday act of getting a cup of coffee into such slaughter was just plain unfair.
"Five minutes, Sir." A suit interrupted. "We have to head up shortly."
The extraction, a helicopter from the roof, Don surmised. His time was almost up. That he'd been allowed to remain within this party for as long as he had was a surprise. There was movement in the group forming the cordon then one guard approached him. It was the man that Don had shown the interior of his gun barrel to at the side of the mall.
"Agent, I want to thank you for your assistance today."
The man reminded him that there was a small point that had been bugging the agent during the ride to the building. "Why didn't you shoot me when I pushed him outside?"
"Because I knew who you were."
"How?" Don's badge on his belt could have been visible but in that sort of situation he knew that their attention would have been engaged almost exclusively on the weapon that had been in his hand. With their training a weapon held by an unknown person that close to the Principal was an automatic green light to shoot.
Brandt held up his watch. He was more than happy to indulge the agent who had saved his life. "Short range voice transmitter when in distress mode."
"Oh." Naturally. The back up team would have then heard that Brandt trusted him. It was some Rolex. He just had to ask: "Does it do anything else?"
"GPS tracking signal." Brandt smiled. "All the bells and whistles."
"My brother would love one of those."
"Then I'll see that he gets one. Is he an agent too?"
"No. A maths professor." And gadget freak.
Brandt seemed taken aback. "Eppes? Professor Charles Eppes?"
"Yes, Sir." Now it was Don's turn to be surprised. "You know him?"
"I've heard of him. Good man."
"That he is."
"Sir, we have to move." The suit stepped back up.
The guard had a hand to his earpiece, listening to a transmission. He made an abrupt arm gesture and the heavily armed detail started to form up. This time the lone FBI agent was going to be excluded.
"Here. You need anything at all, either of you, you call me." Brandt handed over a business card. It was plain with just the name 'Brandt' and a phone number. It was his private card.
"Sir." Don said as his hand was again clasped in a warm handshake. He was then politely, but firmly pushed away as the detail moved.
Special Agent Don Eppes stayed where he was and watched as the President of the United States was whisked away to safety by the Secret Service.
What a day. Now he really needed that cup of coffee.
END
A/N: Short, but it really couldn't go much further. This was inspired by all the publicity surrounding the APEC conference in Australia. Obviously I had to change the President's name. As to the watch, I have no idea if such a thing exists, although I have my suspicions regarding the little flag pins that all such dignitaries wear on their lapels…