Disclaimer: Ok, you know the drill by now, but just to keep the lawyers

happy let's do it anyway. Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the

Numb3rs characters. Won't even mention you know who this time.

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"Chris, I need my phone back, OK?" David Sinclair heard his partner's voice say. The next thing he heard was Conrad Gerrard, exposing Colby's presence to the very people Granger was trying to rescue the bio-weapons researcher and his son from. Helpless to intervene, David and the rest could only listen as Colby's phone, forgotten under the bed, transmitted the entire series of events.

Sinclair's fist clenched as he overheard the short, violent scuffle that culminated in Colby being knocked out and taken away.

Don was on top of it. "We know they're on a yacht. Nikki, find the Lucern yacht. Now, go. Liz, get on the horn with Colby's cell carrier. Get 'em started tracking that phone. Colby bought us some time. Let's use it. David, keep that line open and monitored. And notify SWAT. Tim King and his people or another team, they need to be ready to go when we find that boat," Eppes was issuing orders on the fly, headed for the elevator at a near run.

"Where're you going?" David questioned.

"To get a warrant. When that yacht's found, we go straight in. No screwing around. And I'll deal with the federal prosecutor's office. Alison Gerrard's brother is an assistant DA. He better know where his sister is." The doors closed on Don's grimly determined expression.

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Granger's return to the land of the conscious was neither slow or gentle. A vicious right from AS number seven, whose equally massive Global ProtectX homey's knew him as Johnson snapped Colby's head back and his eyes open. A left caused him to gray out, but not nearly long enough.

"Wakey, wakey, Johnson taunted, the venomous sneer pasted on his face showing how much he enjoyed it.

"That will suffice for now" Amir Sahar commanded, stepping forward, palm imperiously raised.

"Yeah" Colby mumbled thru the ringing in his head. He glared at Johnson thru the one eye not beginning to swell shut. "That'll suffice for now, lamb chop. Besides, those love taps of yours tickle."

Johnson's eyes bulged out as he took a half step in Granger's direction.

"He said that's enough! Get back to Gerrard and his kid. Michaels go with him! Do it now!"

Locating this newest speaker, Colby's eyes unknowingly settled on Clarence, the late Keith's former would-be mentor. Clarence's tone as he regarded Johnson was laced with disgust. When this was over, Clarence concluded, he'd need to have a long talk with HR at Global. Their hiring standards were really slipping.

"A poor decision, my FBI friend, coming here alone. Don't you agree? Do you fancy yourself an invincible superman, able to sweep your foes from before you with a mere flick of the wrist?" Sahar was contemptuous, condescending.

Granger had already privately come to the same conclusion, mentally kicking himself for being an inpatient doof. What he said out loud was, "Well, I've been wanting to meet you for a while now…"

Sahar began to preen, his considerable vanity stoked.

"After all" Colby finished, "I really wanted to find out what herpes in a three thousand dollar suit looked like up close and personal."

Sahar's superior façade crumbled, his face clouding with anger. Almost involuntarily, his arm flew up to administer a backhanded blow to the defenseless man. It did not land. Regaining his self-control with effort, Colby's finely tailored captor retreated, dismissive.

"For a man whose life is forfeit, you demonstrate a remarkable lack of tact."

Gesturing to one the angry suits, the arms dealer walked over to stare out of the stateroom's huge window, taking in a view of the water. Behind him, he could hear the sound of fleshy blows as the Global muscle men began to question their captive in earnest.

Revolted, Alison Gerrard also turned away, her pampered sensibilities offended by the raw brutality on open display. She walked over to Amir.

"Is there any reason I must witness this?" she sniffed.

The Afghani man surveyed her mockingly. "You are only a woman, and weak. You may leave"

As Alison sought to make her escape from the room, a white suited crewman suddenly blocked her path, his stunned gape taking in the scene.

"Well, what is it you imbecile?" she questioned him sharply.

Licking dry lips, the young man stammered out "th…the…the…engine roo…rr….room crew says they can fix the damage, bbb…but it'll take about an hour, may…maybe a little longer." He swallowed hard.

"Very well. You can go." She waved her hand. He fled. She looked at Clarence.

"Go to my brother's home. He has a tendency to behave foolishly when I'm not around to restrain him." Clarence left to follow his instructions.

After whaling away for some time, Colby's winded interrogators paused at a signal from Sahar. The FBI agent's refusal to tell them anything infuriated him. As they were about to resume, Amir Sahar prevented them.

"Stop. This is pointless. Take him back to huddle with Gerrard and the boy. He can be disposed of once we are out at sea. I have other arrangements to see to." With that, the arms dealer was gone, leaving the angry suits to drag their dazed, pain-wracked prisoner back to where they'd found him.

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Knees drawn up to his chest, a devastated Christopher Gerrard sat as far from his father as possible, too hurt to speak.

A bright, intuitive ten year old, Chris had known something was bad wrong for his dad for a long time now. Neither of their lives had been the same since his father's marriage to Alison Lucern.

His stepmom didn't like him. Chris could tell that from the beginning. Still, as long as he stayed out of her way as much as possible, she largely ignored him. Alison did things to hurt his dad though. Chris saw his father change, become sad, nervous. His father started taking medicine he said was to help with something called an ulcer, and he had a lot of trouble sleeping.

Then, without warning, Conrad went to the hospital. No one would talk to Chris. Determined to make sure his dad was going to be ok, Chris snuck out of his bedroom, making a perilous climb out of his bedroom window and down the large oak tree that stood next to it. Using knowledge gained from his only playmates, the children of his stepmother's servants, he used the city's bus system to get to the hospital. Unknown to Bob and Barney Craig, a terrified Chris witnessed the entire night, including their confrontation with Colby, and their taking his dad away. That's when Chris had heard the nurses say that the patient they helped back into bed was an FBI agent. Then they said the man's name. Colby Granger. The patient in the room next to his dad's was an FBI agent named Colby Granger. Desperate and frightened, Christopher bided his time, waiting for a chance. It came during a school field trip. Asking to go to the bathroom, Chris dashed for the first payphone he found. His call to Agent Colby Granger at the FBI's L. A. field office was amazingly transferred by a brand new switchboard operator (now undergoing refresher training) to Colby's home number. When Chris's miracle, unlikely contact with Colby was interrupted by the Global Goonies (Chris's name for them), then Chris was taken to the boat, the boy had given up hope. That hope was restored when Colby showed up in his cabin. Why did his dad do that? Why did he turn Colby over to the Global Goonies?! Chris couldn't look at his dad. He was too upset.

Conrad Gerrard was mustering the words to say to his confused son when the door to the stateroom opened. A pair of Global ProtectX 'security specialists', Johnson and Michaels, bearing the battered form of Colby Granger between them. Ungently hauling the agent across the room, Johnson used lengths of deck roping to tightly tie Granger to piping attached to the walls.

Colby lay back, resting his head on the relative comfort of the expensive carpeting.

Johnson stood over him, wanting to hurt the FBI agent even more than he already had. "Not so tough now, are ya?" he snarled. It was he Colby slipped past to get to the Gerrards, and his fellow Global ProtectX comrades were already giving him a hard time about it. Humiliated, Johnson wanted payback in the worst way and didn't figure he'd gotten nearly enough of it.

"Aw, now, don't go away mad, pookums, just go away" Colby snarked thru a bruised, swollen mouth.

Johnson growled, drawing back his leg for a savage kick. Connecting with the already injured man's rib cage, he was rewarded with a satisfying grunt of pain. Stomping out, he slammed the hatch behind him, locking all three captives in once more.

Chris sprang into action, at Colby's side almost before the door closed.

"Agent Granger? Colby? Please open your eyes! Please!" the boy pleaded frantically.

Colby, who wanted nothing more than to lie still and find an inch or two of his body that didn't hurt, forced his eyes open and smiled encouragingly at Chris.

"It's ok, champ. I'm tougher than they think. Don't worry about me."

He settled back to the floor again, gasping from the effort of that one small bit of conversation.

"Colby" Christopher whispered, "should I get the phone out?" He didn't quite look in the direction of the bed, instinctively shutting his father out of the exchange.

Colby gave his head a microscopic shake. "Leave it alone" Colby whispered back. "My friends can use it to find us. Help's on the way. Just a little while longer. I'm sure of it. It's gonna be alright. Trust me, 'kay?"

"Christopher! Come away from him! Don't talk to him! Come away! Right this minute!" Gerrard rapped angrily. His son did not understand. No one understood.

"It's okay, kiddo. Listen to your dad. Ok? Don't be too hard on him. He loves you. He's very worried and it's messin' with his head. Try to cut him some slack." Colby gasped the last words out, silently willing David Sinclair and the rest of his team to show before it was too late. He tried to concentrate on suppressing the pain.

"Come on guys! Where are you?! You gotta get here! You gotta get here now! " he repeated mentally, over and over. Soon, the damage done to the yacht might be repaired and the boat able to put to sea. Time passed as he marshaled his strength, sending the unspoken SOS his fellow agents.

Almost as if in response to his urgent pleading, he finally heard a bullhorn warning and a blat of automatic weapons fire rang out. Don Eppes and his team of agents had arrived, accompanied by Tim King's FBI SWAT team. Now all they had to do was get to their comrade and the Gerrards in time.

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