"I'm supposed to quiz you forty different ways, to make certain that you're not going to suddenly hop into your car and drive four hundred miles due east for no good reason," his father announced upon arrival at Charlie's office. He held out a bag. "I brought sandwiches."

Charlie's face lit up. "I was not looking forward to the mystery meat at the dining hall," he admitted. "I don't care that Don set this up. Sandwiches from home are worth it."

"From home? No. Rupert's Deli. You want the chicken or the bologna?"

"Kosher bologna?"

"Is there any other kind?"

"Yes," Charlie told his father in no uncertain terms, "and they're all as bland as Larry's white food. I'll take the bologna sandwich, to save you from the extra grams of cholesterol."

"What a son, thinking of his father at a time like this." Alan handed over the desired sandwich. "You want your pickle?"

"Yes."

"Rats. I knew you would," Alan complained. "Donnie never wanted his."

"He's the good son," Charlie acknowledged, his mouth already full. "I'm the wicked son who won't let his father steal my kosher dill."

They ate in companionable silence, enjoying the food that Alan had brought.

It went too quickly, and Alan prolonged the moment. "Seriously, Charlie; you're okay?" he asked. "I know Don is driving you crazy over this, but…"

"I'm fine, Dad," Charlie reassured him. He gestured to the figures on his whiteboard. "Too much work to even consider leaving it behind, and the whiteboard won't fit in the back seat of the Prius. Driving due east forever will have to wait."

Alan nodded, still somber. "Charlie, when your mother…" He couldn't finish the statement. "Charlie, be careful," he said instead. "I don't think I could stand it, if you…" He couldn't finish that statement, either.

Charlie put a hand on his father's arm. "It's okay, Dad. I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere." Then he saw the time, and hustled to throw away the paper remnants of lunch. "Except maybe to that one o'clock meeting that Mildred Finch has called. If I'm late, can I blame it on you, Dad? That may be the only way I can get out of trouble!"

"This tape itches, Don," Charlie complained. "What if he sees it through my shirt?"

The team was in the Mobile Surveillance Unit, a large truck that Colby had parked around two corners from Anders' business so as not to get caught. There was a vague logo plastered on the side of the van, its edges ripped and the center faded, until the casual passerby would no more notice its presence than a speck of dirt on the pavement. It was simply part of the environment, parked there for the evening. Though large, inside Don still felt as though the ceiling was brushing the top of his head and that five people was four too many for the space provided. Banks of equipment flashed demanding lights as David ran them through their paces, complaining that they were capable of oh-so-much more if only Team Eppes cared to try.

"He's not going to see it, Charlie, so shut up and quit whining," Don told him. "I don't care how much those wires itch. You're not going in there without some way for me to monitor what's going on."

"It's just a seminar," Charlie grouched. "There will be other people there. He's not going to try anything with other people around."

"Besides, didn't you say something about getting a week's notice? His victims all signaled their intentions by withdrawing from life." David finished taping the wires to Charlie's chest. "Man, this is going to hurt coming off. You should have let me shave some of the hair off of your chest." He glanced over to Don. "You sure you don't want me with him? Anders has already seen me with Charlie."

"Anders only invited Charlie, not David," Megan reminded them. "This is for invitees only. If Charlie brings David in, we'll scare off Anders."

"Maybe not such a bad idea," Don grumbled under his breath.

Megan caught it. "You can still call this off, Don. We can walk away, stick a bodyguard on Charlie until Anders gets tired of the game."

"And then Anders moves to another part of the country and starts all over again." Colby completed the concept. He tapped the headphone that covered one ear. "Wire is working fine. I'm hearing all of you through the mike. Remember, I need to get this stuff back to Equipment before eight tomorrow if we don't want to get caught 'borrowing' it."

Don glared at them. "I'm still considering this whole thing," he informed them. "I don't like it. It's dangerous."

"Fine," Charlie said, "but consider it a little faster, so that I can get this over with." He glanced at the time on his cell phone window. "If I don't leave now, I'll be late."

"Anders will wait for you."

"Yeah, but I want to finish this. It's been a long day, and I was out last night as well. I'd like to make an early night of it, for a change." He gave a mock salute before jumping down out of the truck, sauntering off along the well-lit pavement to his destination.

The off-duty FBI team listened as Charlie walked along the sidewalk to the building that Anders had rented and renovated. David, after a good three minutes to let Charlie get inside, moved out of the surveillance truck and positioned himself in a storefront where he could watch the entrance to the building where Anders had set up shop, ready to move in if Don should hit the panic button. David too wore an earpiece linked to the system, and he, along with the others, heard Charlie go through the front door, heard him greet the receptionist. They heard Wesley Anders walk forward with his hard-soled patent leather shoes and welcome Charlie, heard him thank Charlie for attending.

"Have some refreshments, Professor Eppes," Anders invited. "The seminar won't begin for another few minutes. Coffee? Juice?"

"Thank you, but I'm not—"

"Here, don't spill it. That's it." Pause. "I have to go now, prepare for my lecture. I'll meet you after the lecture, Professor Eppes?"

"Yes. Certainly."

The FBI team heard the footsteps tap away into the crowd, heard the muttering from the 'special invitees' who had been honored by Wesley Anders to move up to the next step.

It was still a few minutes before Anders was ready to let the small audience in, and Charlie passed the time by chatting with some of the others.

One recognized him immediately. "Dr. Eppes?"

The FBI team could hear the entire conversation over the link. Don could imagine Charlie looking up as the mathematician responded. "Yes." Pause. "You look familiar. Are you in the physics department?"

Chuckle. "No, I'm with Professor Lavoiseaux, in psych. Erin Wernicke, hopeful PhD candidate," she introduced herself. The girl apparently leaned closer to Charlie, for her voice came in more clearly. "I'm doing research. My thesis is on cult behavior and, even though this doesn't qualify as a cult, Dr. Lavoiseaux and I thought that it had enough in common with cults that it would be interesting to assess and compare it to more classical models." Another giggle. "I think I wiped out the last of Dr. Lavoiseaux's grant money, paying for this."

"You may have." Charlie knew that grants didn't flow to the psychology department as easily as they did to the hard sciences, and his own were hard enough to get.

"Do you see that woman, over there?" the girl's voice continued. "Do you know who she is?"

"No." Should I?

"That's Melanie Frank."

"Okay…" Clearly this is someone that this girl thinks I ought to know. That thought came through loud and clear to the agents in the surveillance truck. Megan immediately turned to her own console, starting running down the name.

"Runs a non-profit for homeless women. What's she doing here?"

"I haven't a clue." Maybe she's here to listen to Anders. Ya think? "Look, the doors are open," Charlie said. "I think he wants us to go in and sit down."

Don and the others in the surveillance truck listened to the sound of feet on a carpeted surface move into a different, more cavernous room, and Don surmised that his brother was now in the auditorium. Several creaks suggested that the participants had seated themselves. The lecture began. Colby taped it.

"Let your light shine forth," Anders intoned as an opening. "You are the best, and the brightest, and the world deserves your expertise. You owe it to the world and yourselves to open up yourselves and bring forth the best in yourself." He paused. "All of you, come forward. Sit in these first chairs. Let us speak together as friends, let our lights shine forth together as one." Anders moved back into his regularly scheduled statements as soon as he had everyone re-seated in front of him.

Don grimaced, and David snorted from his post outside the building. "Same lecture as the initial one," David pronounced it. "Maybe a couple of different phrases here and there, but he didn't even put any effort into punching it up. Don?"

"I never heard round two either," Don admitted, "but you're right. This does sound awfully familiar. How does he keep people coming back if he doesn't offer new material?"

"I don't know, guys," Megan put in doubtfully. "This session doesn't seem to have the same dynamism that Charlie and David spoke of for the first one. If anything, it should have more. This seems almost peaceful in comparison. What is Anders trying to do?"

"Maybe because there's only about a dozen people there? All in front? Anders doesn't need an audio system to be heard."

"Maybe." Megan didn't seem convinced.

"You think there's a clue in there?"

Megan shook her head. "I don't know. Let's see what Charlie's impressions are, once he comes out. Maybe Anders is doing something visual that we can't see."

"Yeah." Don lapsed into silence, listening to the seminar being transmitted over the airwaves, worrying. What was Anders doing in there? How was he getting people to kill themselves? And, worst: that's my brother in there.

It was over much more quickly this time. Possibly the fact that this time there was only a dozen participants instead of the few hundred allowed people to trickle out of the building more easily. Don consoled himself with the thought that it meant that he had his brother out of there and under Don's watchful eye more quickly.

They all listened to the exit, surprised that Anders didn't try to speak to Charlie one more time, try to lure him back.

"Megan?"

"I don't know, Don."

"Did we spook him somehow?" Colby wondered.

"Maybe," was David's opinion from the street. "Who knows what would tip off a guy like this? We've tried to do what he's expecting. Maybe he's just the nervous type."

"Not likely," Don said. "This is a guy who likes laughing in our face." He scowled at the audio equipment in the listening post which had performed perfectly. "Let's get Charlie in here, de-brief him. David, don't join Charlie until he's a couple of blocks away. Tail him; make sure that he gets back to us safely."

"And if Anders approaches him?"

"Then back off. Let Anders do what he wants." That was hard for Don to say, but he consoled himself with the fact that Charlie was wearing a wire. Any wrong move by Anders—or a mugger, for that matter—and he'd have four armed and dangerous—and pissed—FBI agents jumping down his throat.

But there was no interference with Charlie's escape from Anders' clutches, nothing more than a feral cat who crossed Charlie's path in pursuit of something faster than the eye could see. David caught up with him a mere block away from the surveillance truck where the others hid and escorted him in.

"Well?" Don demanded, extending a hand to pull Charlie into the truck, doing the same for David.

Charlie shrugged. "Don, if he was doing anything, I certainly didn't catch it. If anything, it was more boring than the first speech. I almost fell asleep. Are you sure you want me to go back again tomorrow?" He sat down onto the chair that Don directed him to, able to face the others. David leaned against the back wall of the truck.

Actually, I never wanted you to go to the first seminar. But Don only said, "that's the plan, buddy. Did he invite you?"

"Not any more than anyone else. At this point, Don, I think I've become just one of the crowd to him."

"Not likely," Don muttered under his breath. They all caught it.

"Don, why don't you call your Dad, let him know that everything went the way we expected it to, and that Charlie is okay," Megan suggested pointedly. "You know he's worried. Charlie, how do you feel?" she asked, swinging into her psych mode as much for Don's comfort level as to assess Charlie's state of mind.

"Fine. Certainly not in the mood to kill myself. Anders only tried to bore me to death." More irritated than anything at the constant barrage of solicitude. Charlie yawned. "Tired, actually. I might be coming down with something."

"Charlie?" Don perked up his ears.

"Dial, Don." Megan turned back to her 'patient'. "What do you mean, tired?"

"I mean, tired. Achy. Physically achy, like a too-strenuous work out." Charlie shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a better spot on the meager chair in the truck. "You might not want to get too close. I might be coming down with the flu." He grimaced. "What perfect timing."

"It's been a lot of stress," Megan soothed. "We'll take you home. Drink plenty of fluids, get a good night's sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"I'd better," Charlie said darkly. "Tomorrow's lecture—my lecture, I mean, on Advanced Methods of Statistical Analysis—is one of the more challenging topics. And I've got a test to administer to the Freshman calc class. I can't afford to be sick." He thought for a moment. "Don, what if he doesn't invite me to the next 'seminar'? He didn't say anything, and I gave him plenty of time to approach me before I left the building."

"All part of the game, Charlie." It wasn't a game designed to entertain Don Eppes, though he had no doubt that Anders found it hilarious. "Anders is still playing Cat and Mouse. He knows that we're after him. He's just proving it right now, by not bothering with a personal invite. He knows that we'll have you go back again. It's all part of the control thing. Right now he thinks he's controlling the moves, and he's demonstrating his control by not giving you a personal invitation to his next 'seminar'."

"What if we throw a monkey wrench into the whole thing? Do something unexpected?" Colby asked. "Will we rattle him?"

It was Charlie who answered that. "Not yet. Game Theory: we have to set up a comfort zone for him, so that he thinks that we're following the 'rules'. We're close, but we haven't established a real pattern yet. After tomorrow's session, after three seminars, it becomes a pattern. He'll expect me to simply show up and follow his rules."

"And then we'll start messing with Anders' head," Don said. It was going to feel good to finish this particular case, even though the case itself was unauthorized. "C'mon, Chuck. We need to get you home, and Colby needs to return this truck to the garage."