Obsession
Disclaimer: See Prologue
A/N: I truly appreciate all of your reviews. Thank you.
Sun Tsu - The Art of War
Attack where they are not prepared, go out to where they do not expect
Chapter 18
"Hey Dad."
Don called out as soon as they entered the house. He could see Amita and Larry sitting at the table and as he strode forward Alan came into view. He knew immediately that something was wrong, they were sitting way too still, wide-eyed with fearful expressions on their faces, silently staring at them.
"Dad? What's …." He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye but it was too late. The barrel of the gun jabbed into his back while he was still in mid-turn, his hand frozen, hovering above his gun. His assailant's hand snaked around him and lifted his gun from the holster on his belt.
"Hands in the air and don't try anything….I can't miss from this range." The owner of the gun warned him in a tone of voice that left no doubt that he would follow through with his threat.
Don risked a glance at Megan and discovered that she too had a gun shoved into the middle of her back. They exchanged looks and raised their hands into the air.
Don stared straight ahead, holding his father's fearful eyes with his own. "Now what?" he asked. "What do you…..?" he grunted as the gun was shoved more forcefully into his back.
A cold voice issued orders from behind them. "Take them in and bind them like the others."
Don tried to look over his shoulder at the man in charge but was shoved with enough force to throw him off balance. He staggered but managed to keep on his feet as the two of them were pushed toward the dining room.
The sight that greeted them made Don's heart constrict with fear. His Dad, Larry and Amita were all strapped to their chairs. Amita was at the end of the table that was closest to the entrance and he could see the duct tape binding her arms and legs to her seat.
His eyes drifted to his Dad and Larry and although he couldn't see it from where he was standing, he knew that they were restrained in the same manner. The chair to Amita's right was empty and the man behind Megan pushed her forward and forced her to sit down. He immediately taped her hands and legs to the chair. Now it was Don's turn and he was pushed to the other end of the table and forced to sit down where he too was restrained. His father was on his left, and Larry was sitting between Alan and Megan leaving the left side of the table empty.
The two gunman left the room and soon Don could hear muffled voices coming from the family room. Taking advantage of their absence he leaned toward his father and whispered. "Are you all right Dad?"
Alan let out a shaky breath and leaned as close to his son as he could get. and whispered back. "Just a little shook up, that's all. Donnie they haven't even said who they are or what they want...they...they...used Amita as a shield and forced their way in."
Don glanced around the table. "Is anyone hurt?" He let out a relieved breath as Larry and Amita both whispered back that they were okay.
"Have they said anything at all that would help us figure out what they want?" Megan whispered, keeping her eyes on the foyer.
Larry shook his head. "It would seem that they intend to keep their secrets to themselves. The leader of these hooligans has made the family room his lair and has not ventured forth since they arrived."
Don frowned. "How long ago was that?"
Amita tilted her head in thought. "I'm not sure, maybe fifteen minutes ago." She looked at her two companions for confirmation.
"Yeah...that sounds about right." Alan agreed, glancing at the vacant foyer. "Donnie, what are we going to do? What do you think they want?"
"I don't know Dad." He struggled with the tape holding his arms down but it was to no avail. "At least they haven't hurt anyone yet...that's a good sign." he offered as encouragement to everyone around the table and Megan nodded in agreement.
"He's right." She whispered. "It could be just a simple robbery. Maybe they don't really want to hurt anyone." She glanced sideways at Don and received a nod of approval. Megan and Don both knew that something more was going on, but there wasn't any reason to upset their friends any more than necessary.
They ceased talking and all looked toward the foyer at the sound of footsteps. One of the masked men crossed the room and stood to the right of the swinging door that lead to the kitchen. He glared at them and stood silently aiming his automatic pistol at the captives.
"What's this all about….what do you want?" Alan asked the gunman. "Who are you?" His question went unanswered but he continued to plead with the man anyway. "Look, if this is a robbery, just take what you want….you don't have to hurt anyone."
The gunman didn't answer, he just stood there.
"Who are you...what do you want?" Don demanded and then shifted gears. "Look, it's not too late, no one has been hurt. We could still work out a deal for you."
All heads turned back toward the foyer when an unseen voice answered the agent. "He has instructions not to talk to you...and by the way Agent Eppes, no deals will be made tonight."
Don could hear the man walking around in the living room, picking things up and then putting them back down again. How dare he go through their personal items like this, who the hell did he think he was? This personal intrusion gnawed at his nerves and his apprehension was growing as the footsteps came closer and closer to the dining room. The man's voice was echoing through his mind, he knew it, there was a familiarity to it and as the man stepped into view, Don realized that his worst nightmare had taken on a physical form and the agent's uncontrollable rage burst forth..
"Bashere….you son of a bitch!." Don's heart was racing from fear, not for himself, but for his brother and he was terrified that he wouldn't be able to stop the Frenchman from kidnapping Charlie again. " If you touch him, I swear I will kill you!" he yelled as he struggled against the tape, the guns forgotten in his anger.
Alan looked at Don in shock and then back again at the masked man. A look of fear spread across his features as he recognized the name that Don had shouted out and he wasn't the only one. All around the table the others had reacted to the name in similar ways.. Amita's face had drained of all color in fear of Charlie's safety.
A tall man wearing a ski mask stood in the opening between the foyer and the dining room. He crossed his arms as his cold eyes traveled around the table stopping when they focused on Don.
"That isn't a very nice way to greet a guest, Agent Eppes." he eyes drifted to Alan. "Didn't you teach your son any manners?"
"I know it's you Bashere…you may be wearing a mask but your eyes and voice are still the same!" Don shouted accusingly. "Hiding behind that mask isn't going to protect you!"
"I wish you had drowned!" Alan spat out angrily, mimicking his son's efforts to set himself free.
"Hmm….like father like son I see." Bashere's lip curled up in a sneer as he walked further into the room. "And by the way, this mask is more for your protection than mine."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" The agent snapped back.
Bashere graced him with a contemptible look and stopped near the table, studying each one of them.
"It's apparent that all of you know who I am. You might be surprised to learn however, that I also know who you are. I've done my homework this time."
He gazed around the room, taking in all of the decorations and the festive dinnerware. "What's this now?" He asked waving his hands around the room. "It looks as if you were planning on celebrating something." He picked up a steak knife and punctured several of the balloons, noting with satisfaction that both of the professor's jumped at the sound of them popping. "I do believe that you were a bit premature."
Purposely he strolled over and stood beside of Amita's chair. She stiffened as he came closer but she refused to lower her eyes, not even trying to hide her hatred for him.
"Professor Amita Ramajuan, a brilliant mathematician and fiance of Professor Charles Edward Eppes." he paused and looked down upon her with an air of contempt. "Pity that the wedding is never going to take place."
Amita's face suddenly flushed with color as she angrily retorted. "Yes it will! Charlie and I will get married.!"
"That is going to be a little difficult, especially when you consider that the groom is not going to be around much longer." He enjoyed hurting her and he decided to twist the knife a little more. "The Professor is no longer available." He watched as her eyes filled with tears.
"There…there…now, your still young….I'm sure you will find someone else." Bashere smiled and patted the top of her head as if he was just patting a dog's head.
This statement took the rest of the defiance from her eyes and the tears spilled over. "No." she sobbed. "You can't do this...you can't...take Charlie away."
He looked down at her with disdain and with a shrug of his shoulders he turned away and stepped behind Megan and Larry's chairs.
"Special Agent Megan Reeves," he spoke arrogantly, "Profiler for the FBI"
He leaned closer so that his face was only inches from hers. "Tell me …have you profiled me?" He straightened back up when she didn't respond. "Of course you have, and you, more than anyone in this room, know what I am capable of doing."
Megan swallowed hard but just sat there in silence, staring straight ahead. She was afraid to say anything, one wrong word and the man's behavior could turn violent.
Realizing that she wasn't going to take the bait, Bashere cupped a hand under her chin and tilted her head upward. She flinched at his touch but maintained eye contact with him. "What's the matter….don't you want to play?" He released her and turned to the man sitting next to her.
"Professor Lawrence Fleinhart, astrophysicist, astronaut, mentor and friend of Dr. Eppes." He sat on the edge of the table and locked eyes with the smaller man. "I'm curious Professor, what was it like trying to teach a thirteen year old genius?"
Larry's cosmology metaphors failed him under the scrutiny of the madman so he decided to follow Megan's lead and remained silent. Sweat was beading on his forehead by the time Bashere stood up. "I see...you don't want to play either."
Bashere continued his walk around the table. The rustling of his clothes and the sound of his heels tapping on the hardwood floor were the only sounds in a now eerily silent room.
"Alan Eppes." he announced to everyone as he stopped in front of the man's chair. "Proud patriarch of the Eppes family."
A sob interrupted him and he turned to yell at Amita. "Stop that infernal crying or I will have you gagged!"
Frightened, her eyes widened as she desperately fought to control her tears.
"Leave her alone!" Alan shouted angrily at him. "Stop tormenting her!" Bashere leaned down within inches of his face and Alan jerked back reflexively staring into the man's cold eyes.
"No one tells me what to do old man." he said in a dangerously quiet voice.
"Get away from my father!" Don yelled at him, suddenly fearful for his father's safety.
Bashere glanced sideways at Alan's son. The malevolent look that he directed at Don caused the agent to break out in a sweat. Don had faced down a lot of bad criminals since he joined with the FBI, but this was the first time he had come face to face with pure evil. He swallowed as he watched the man straighten up and walk around his father's chair to get to him. Don tried to prepare himself as the man stopped behind his chair but he couldn't stop an involuntary flinch when the Frenchman spoke.
He was very surprised, howver, when Bashere's words were directed at someone else. "Search his room, you know what I want."
One of the gunmen nodded his head and left without a word. Everyone around the table followed the sound of his footsteps as they went up the stairs and along the hallway.
Bashere walked around Don and selected a table chair without arms. He pulled it over next to the agent and turned it around so that he could straddle it and face him.
"What is he looking for?" Don asked after a loud thump was heard coming from upstairs.
Bashere ignored him and crossed his arms over the top of the chair. He leaned forward and rested his chin on his arms and silently studied the agent's face. At length he commented.
"You should really do something about that temper of yours, Don." He paused to add emphasis to his next sentence. "It could get you killed one of these days." His eyes drifted over to the agent's father. "Tell me Alan, was he always like this?"
Alan just swallowed nervously and refused to say anything. Bashere was sitting way to close to his son and he was afraid he would say something that would cause another angry outburst or worse from him.
The Frenchman motioned to the man that had taken Don's gun and stretched out his hand for the weapon. His cohort handed it over without a word.
Bashere carefully examined the gun and switched off the safety mechanism. He slid the barrel of the gun along the agent's arm to the top of his shoulder and with his finger on the trigger, he slowly slid it across Don's shoulder and brought it to rest underneath his right collarbone. Holding it there he brought his eyes up to meet those of the restrained agent.
Don felt an involuntary shudder pass through his body as the gun came to rest against his chest and as he stared into the eyes of the madman in front of him, he knew in his heart, that if Bashere pulled that trigger, this night would be his last.
There was a sudden plea from the elder Eppes and the Frenchman shifted his gaze.
"No…please….don't hurt him." Alan face had turned a ghostly white as he watched the man hold the gun against his son's chest.
Don almost succeeded at keeping his voice steady. "Stay out of this Dad."
"Yes, Daddy." Bashere said, his voice dripping with sarcasm "Stay out of it, this is between your son and me."
Turning his attention back to Don he continued to taunt him..
"I've spent a lot of time trying to decide the best way to make you pay for shooting me."
He watched Don closely, trying to gauge his reactions, wanting him to suffer as he had from the gunshot wound.
"I could just pull this trigger right at this spot, and you would know how much pain that you inflicted upon me." he said as he shoved the gun barrel roughly into the agent's chest.
Don grunted from the pain but clinched his jaw, refusing to give the Frenchman any satisfaction. He held is breath in anticipation of the oncoming bullet.
However, Bashere continued to talk instead of pulling the trigger.
"You must have nine lives…you and your team." he said as he glanced at Megan. "You successfully escaped all of my traps with only minor injuries. I'm impressed …that was no small feat. I should applaud your skills.." and he set the gun down on the table and clapped his hands lightly together.
"You are a sick man!" the agent angrily retorted. Bashere was toying with him, he felt like a mouse being batted around by a cat. "You should get some professional help!"
Don's comment had apparently struck a nerve. Bashere reacted so quickly that the agent didn't have a chance to prepare himself for the attack. The man backhanded him with such force that his head hit the back of the chair with a loud crack. Pain shot through his head as his vision began to darken around the edges. His head drooped forward and came to rest on his chest. He didn't pass out, although, for a moment there Don thought he would. As the dull throbbing at the back of his skull slowly began to diminish he raised his head. Don could feel blood dripping from the corner of his mouth as he stared at Bashere.
"Now, now, Agent Eppes, look what you've made me do." The man's demeanor had quickly changed again and now he was acting as if nothing had happened.
Bashere picked up a napkin from the table and dabbed at the restrained man's forehead.
Don flinched at his touch and turned his head away as he quietly said. "Don't touch me." He couldn't afford to anger the man anymore, he had to try and remain calm if he was going to get all of them out of this alive. "I have to keep a level head." he told himself.
"You and your brother are a lot a like, he doesn't like to be touched either, but surely you don't mind if I wipe the sweat from your brow."
"I said, don't touch me!" Don hissed between his teeth.
Delighted at the agent's reaction, the Frenchman laughed and put the napkin down on the table. Tormenting the agent was proving to be more entertaining than he had anticipated and he had decided on a better way to get his revenge, one that would make him suffer a lot longer than a bullet. With that in mind he turned to Alan.
"You have a lot of photographs of your family all around the house. I must say that is quite a collection ." He paused to consider his next words. "You must be very proud of your sons."
"I am." Alan's voice shook a little as he answered but he clenched his jaw and added pasionately. "There good men...both of them."
"Well then, at least you will have a lot of good memories of your youngest son." Bashere casually remarked. "Actually, I noticed that you don't have very many current pictures of him... tsk, tsk." he admonished Alan. "It would appear that you have become remiss in that area so I've graciously decided to share a few of my photographs with you, after all, after tonight you will never see him again."
He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and opened it, revealing a handful of photographs. He spread them out on the table in front of Don and Alan. There were pictures of Charlie getting out of his car, one taken through his office window while he was working on an equation and wearing his headphones, oblivious to the world, and there were more. Charlie with Don and Alan in the backyard, and the last one he put on the table was of Charlie and Amita kissing on a hillside. "This one you may wish to give to the young woman but I'll leave that up to you."
Alan visibly shuddered at the man's words and was speechless as he gazed at all of the photographs. Charlie had been right all along, this madman had been following him. Bashere could have taken his youngest son at anytime. His face paled and he swallowed hard, looking up into the cold eyes of the Frenchman.
"How can you be so cruel?" Don asked angrily, forgetting his attempt to remain calm.
"I seem to recall your brother asking me that very question."
"What was your answer?" Megan inquired warily. She had to get his focus off of Don before her friend provoked the man and got himself killed. Megan was aware that Bashere's mood could change drastically in just a split second .
Bashere swiveled his head and locked eyes with her.
"Pure evil," Megan thought as she locked gazes with the Frenchman. Cold brown eyes returned her stare and she could suddenly hear her heart beating loudly in her ears, but she didn't back down. Showing weakness now could get her killed.
"Considering that I am bored at the moment and have nothing better to do, I shall humor you and answer your question."
Instead of answering though, his hand went to the snack tray that Alan had put on the table. Picking through it, he picked up a cube of cheese and popped it into his mouth, followed by some crackers and olives.
"H'mm, I didn't realize how hungry I was." Bashere spied the cake and picked up a table knife as he rose from his chair. He held the knife in his hand, studying the cake before he cut a slice from the center of it. He glanced at Don and Alan and his lips turned upward in a cruel smile as he placed the slice of cake on the table.
Alan gasped when he realized the significance of that particular slice of cake. He had deliberately cut out the piece with Charlie's name written on it and his reason for doing it was apparent to everyone. Bashere was playing with them, showing them the he was going to cut Charlie out of their lives forever. Alan shared an anguished look with Don as his koi metaphor came back to haunt him.
Bashere had found the champagne bottle and placed it beside his plate. He took a bite of the cake and popped the cork on the bottle. As he was pouring himself a glass of the bubbling liquid the man that he had sent upstairs returned carrying a tee shirt in his hand.
"Is this is?" he asked as he gave it to his boss.
"Yes, now go keep an eye on the driveway. We don't want our young friend surprising us, do we:"
Don recognized the shirt, it was the one that he had given his brother for his birthday. It had the math symbol for Pi on the front of it and E equals Eppes on the back. "What do you want with Charlie's shirt?"
Bashere ignored him and laid the shirt on the table.. They all sat in silence as he poured himself a glass of champagne and finished off the cake.
"Not the best I've ever tasted, but for now it will have to suffice." He winked at Don and added. " Dr. Eppes and I will share a much better vintage a little later tonight."
His appetite now sated , the Frenchman returned to their conversation. "Let's see, now…. where were we?" He asked as he poured himself another drink.
"Would you care for a sip?" he held his glass up to the agent's lips.
Don pulled his head back and shook his head no.
This elicited a wicked laugh from Bashere and he saluted Don with his glass and took another drink himself.
"Just like your brother. Did you know that he was dying of thirst but refused to take a drink from my hand and insisted that I release his own hands." He grinned at the agent and leaned forward until his face was closer to him. "He was quite stubborn about it really. But I digress, don't I? I believe the question was "How can I be so cruel?"
He leaned back and looked around the table. "The definition of cruelty depends upon your own perspective. From your point of view what I am going to do is immoral; taking the professor against his will, forcing him to live the life that I choose for him is in your eyes cruel." he paused and took another sip of champagne.
" I do not suffer your moral outrage, fortunately I was born without that annoying little gene. I do not feel remorse, it is an emotion that is totally foreign to me, and for this I am extremely grateful." He faked a shudder. "I cannot even imagine going through life like you people...why I would postively choke with all ot the restraints and rules that you have." Bashere lip curled as he sneered at them. "Why, that would take all of the fun away, wouldn't it?
His voice took on a more sobering tone and as he glanced around the table at each one of them, he narrowed his eyes and somehow they appeared colder. "In my life there is only one thing that is important and that is me. As I once told Dr. Eppes, nothing else is matters...except me."
The man that was watching the driveway hurried into the room. "There's a car coming."
Bashere's head snapped up and Don could see the eager glint in his eyes as he asked. "Is it him?"
Don silently prayed that it wasn't Charlie. " Please let it be someone else." but his heart sank as a voice called out from the family room.
"It's him, it's the Professor!"
"Quickly, both of you hide, let him come in and then come up behind him."
Bashere picked up Don's gun and moved his chair around until he was right beside of the agent Touching the barrel to Don's temple, he glared around the table making sure he had eye contact with everyone. "If anyone calls out, I will pull this trigger and Alan Eppes will lose both of his sons tonight."
He leaned his face closer to Don's and added. "If you call out, I'll put a bullet right between your father's eyes."
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Charlie turned down his street and glanced at his watch. The trip from the florist to his house had taken him under twelve minutes ; that had to be a new record for LA. He smiled at that thought as he pulled into his driveway and parked behind his father's car. As he opened his car door he remembered that his phone had fallen to the floor and he bent down to retrieve it. He had put it down on the seat after his talk with Amita and soon after had swerved to miss another car. The phone had slipped to the floor and as luck would have it, it had started to ring while it was out of his reach.
He flipped it open and found three missed calls from Don. Checking the times he determined that Don had called once while he was in his meeting, the second time was when the phone was on the floor and the third happened while he was in the florist shop. He glanced at his brother's SUV and grinned. "Oh, well," he thought to himself, " Don would just have to tell him the news in person ."
Charlie dropped the phone into his jacket pocket and quickly opened the rear door of his car. He carefully removed the box of roses and after slinging his bag over his shoulder he hurried to the front door.