Obsession
Disclaimer: See Prologue
A/N: Wow! Your response to Chapter 21 was just amazing! :) Thank you so much for taking the time to review. I hope you'll continue to share your thoughts of this story with me.
Chapter 22:
Charlie couldn't believe his eyes; the visage in front of him literally left him speechless. The voice and the eyes belonged to the Bashere that he remembered, but he had come to know the rest of the man's face by another name. A man that he had spoken with on more than one occasion, a man that had been welcomed into his home as a friend. His forehead creased in puzzlement; something else was different though; narrowing his eyes he studied the man's features. Suddenly it clicked into place; it was the hair…new style and change of color. An unexpected sense of betrayal coursed through him and his anger re-surfaced; Bashere had played upon his family's benevolence to further his subterfuge.
"You missed your calling, you should have become an actor." he said.
Bashere flashed him a smile, deliberately taking his comment as a compliment and ignoring the sarcastic tone of his voice.
"I was quite clever, don't you think?" he asked smugly. "I've learned how to play many roles over the years but I can honestly tell you that I have never enjoyed it as much as I did this time."
Charlie found the Frenchman's attitude irritating and although he knew that he risked angering the man he couldn't stop himself from saying. "You know, I once read that honest people are easy to manipulate so forgive me if I don't exactly view your performance as a great accomplishment." He braced himself for Bashere's response to his insult, wondering what form his retaliation would come in, but he was quite unprepared for the man's apathetic attitude.
"I truly didn't expect you to appreciate my efforts Professor." the Frenchman responded, glancing up from a paper that he was reading. He studied the young man's face, noting the sweaty brow and the white pallor of his skin.
"On your right is a glass of ginger-ale, it should help that nauseous feeling that you are probably experiencing at the moment, unfortunately it is a side effect of the sedative that I gave you." Bashere watched him closely. "I left one of your hands free so you could help yourself." he nudged his arm companionably. "You see, I remembered that you like to hold your own glass."
Charlie's throat was dry and his hand shook slightly as he picked up the glass and raised it to his lips. "Must be another side effect of the drug." he thought darkly. The drink helped him in his struggle to wake up and he took a moment to look around at his surroundings.
Charlie silently stared out of a window and tried to gain control of his jittery stomach. It would be poetic justice if he threw up on Bashere. He brought up a trembling hand to wipe the sweat that was now beading on his forehead and was relieved that at least this time one of his hands had remained free. It was a small courtesy, considering the circumstances, but one he deeply appreciated, although he wasn't going to let his captor know that.
They were on board a jet and as he looked around at the ultra luxurious large cabin it occurred to him that Bashere was staying true to his nature….the man truly loved luxury. There were two extremely comfortable leather reclining seats placed side by side in the middle of the cabin, one of which he was presently occupying and the Frenchman was sitting in the other one. A coffee table was in front of their chairs and there was a long comfortable sofa along one of the sides of the plane.
He heard voices behind him and swiveled his head around to see where they were coming from. There was a wall separating the rear of the jet from their section. He assumed that the men from the house were sitting behind the partition. The voices were rising and falling in intensity and it was apparent that a heated discussion was going on but he couldn't quite make out what they were saying.
"Would you like some more?' Bashere inquired, concern evident in his voice.
Surprised by the man's demeanor Charlie turned quickly around to face the older man but when he didn't answer right away Bashere motioned for someone to come forward.
The person was just out of his line of sight but Charlie's jaw dropped when he came into view. It was a young man dressed just like him and not only his clothing was identical to what he was wearing but he looked to be around the same height and weight as himself; add the five o'clock shadow and curly brown hair and he could pass for his twin brother.
"Yes, Henri?" the young man asked with a look of adoration on his face. It was clear that he wanted to please the older man. "Can I do something for you?"
"A fresh ginger-ale for the professor and a pack of crackers, he has an upset stomach." The older man commanded.
"Oh, okay sure." He hesitated, apparently disappointed, until Bashere arched his eyebrows at him. The young man turned quickly and left to get the items.
Charlie's eyes were wide with disbelief and he couldn't take them off of the young man as he hurried away. Swallowing hard, his eyes drifted back to the man sitting next to him and found Bashere closely studying his reaction.
"Why?" he whispered at a loss for words with the revelation of his look-alike.
"It was necessary to get you through security." Bashere responded in an impassive voice. "I also became bored waiting for my plan to finalize and Adam has been very entertaining." he paused, raking his eyes over the younger man. "If you get my drift?"
Charlie felt his heart quicken and he ducked his eyes and looked away with only thought in his mind. "Oh, God! I've got to find a way to escape from this madman!"
Bashere stood up and looked down at the young mathematician. "I'll be back in a moment."
An overwhelming sense of panic came over him and Charlie immediately tried to free himself of the handcuff. He looked around frantically for anything that he could use to wedge into the lock but to no avail. Adam returned while he was still attempting to get himself free.
"Please, help me. I need to get this off before he comes back!" he whispered desperately.
"I have to admit that you do look a lot like the picture, but I think I look more like him than you do. Henri doesn't need you when he has me." Adam's voice was cold and full of resentment. His eyebrows pulled closer together as he stared at Charlie, ignoring his pleas for help. Jealously and anger reflected in his dark eyes.
"Is that part of the act.; pretending that you don't want to be handcuffed? Henri hasn't done that with me yet, but he will." he said confidentially, his eyes gleaming with anticipation as he looked down at Charlie.
Stunned, Charlie asked incredulously. "You like this? You want to be here?" When did the whole world go crazy, did everyone on this plane belong in a mental institution?
Adam snorted. "Of course, just like you."
Angrily Charlie hissed. "I am not here by choice! I am being kidnapped, please help me!"
Bashere suddenly materialized by the side of the chair. "Adam you are upsetting my friend. Just put the drink and crackers down and leave us."
Adam placed the crackers and ginger-ale on the table next to Charlie but made no attempt to leave.
Angrily, he pointed at Charlie. "Why is he here? I look more like the picture than he does and you haven't done the handcuff thing with me yet. You don't need him, you have me!" His eyes burned with hatred as he starred at the mathematician.
Bashere grabbed the man's arm and jerked him forward until he was standing close enough for him to grab his chin and force his head up to meet his eyes. In a voice that held deadly promise he answered the angry man's question.
"Listen very carefully Adam for I will only say this once. Charlie is the man in the photograph, you are the copy. I will not tolerate anyone who might intend him harm, do you understand?"
Frightened by the violent reaction and malevolent look in the man's eyes, Adam simply nodded his head that he understood. Bashere released him and patted him gently on the arm.
"Don't worry, you will still have your uses. Off with you now, go back and take your seat."
Dismissed, like a young child, the young man glanced sideways at the professor and slowly walked back to the rear of the plane.
Bashere returned to his seat and opened up his laptop. "You should drink some more of the beverage, it will help settle your stomach."
"Ah, yes, thanks." Charlie mumbled as he took another drink. It did seem to help but he didn't feel like eating anything so he left the cracker's untouched.
He stared at the man with a new resolve and found that he wasn't afraid of him anymore. It didn't matter what the Frenchman did to him now, he had made his decision and he was going to put a stop to this once and for all. His family was safe now, that's all that mattered, and soon Bashere would no longer have any reason to hurt them.
"Where are we going?" he asked quietly.
Bashere's head whipped around suddenly and Charlie thought he saw an emotion flicker across his face but it was gone too quickly for him to identify. Could it have been …hope?
"I'm so glad that you asked Charlie." he leaned over and nudged his arm. "I can call you Charlie, right?"
Ignoring his question, the young man asked one of his own.
"What should I call you?"
There was that look again, almost as if the man was really hoping that there was a chance that Charlie would actually accept this life and enjoy it.
"Hmm…hmmm, that is a good question. I'm actually trying to decide on a new name but until I decide I suppose you can still call me Henri or Angus, whichever one suits you." he paused, "I think you liked Angus better than Henri though."
"Same man." Charlie ventured. "Changing the way you look doesn't change who you are, Frenchman or Scotsman, your still the same person."
Bashere shrugged, dismissing the conversation and swiveled his laptop toward the young man.
"Look at this Charlie!" he said eagerly and proceeded to press a few keys. Pictures of an estate appeared on the screen.
"This is going to be your new home…our home." he amended.
He clicked on a number of pictures explaining the layout of the estate to him as he did so and took him on a virtual tour of the mansion.
"Downstairs is a solarium that I've had prepared just for you. It's filled with whiteboards and blackboards so that you can work on your equations and your Cognitive Emergence work. A place where you won't be interrupted by anyone."
Smiling broadly, he leaned over an patted the young man's knee. "I will insist however, that you take a few breaks now and then. I know how you push yourself, dear boy, and you must take time out for a little R & R."
Charlie listened in amazement as the man rambled on excitedly. "He's totally delusional; it's as if he's forgotten that I am his prisoner."
"Oh, and just wait until you see your apartment. It's conveniently right across from mine, so we'll have no problem visiting one another."
The man's voice grated on his nerves and he had to mentally keep his hands from balling up into fists as Bashere continued to talk. Charlie never would have believed himself capable of wanting to hurt another person but somehow Bashere had managed to push all of the right buttons because right now he had an overwhelming desire to punch him in the face.
Despite the dire situation, the scientist in him was distantly processing his own feelings and he noted with excitement how his first hand experience with these raw emotions would be in-valuable in his Cognitive Emergence Theory. He sighed inwardly, however, with the realization that he would never have the opportunity to incorporate this new data into his theory.
Charlie swallowed the bile that was forming in his throat. It happened every time the man implied what he wanted from their imaginary relationship and he reached for the ginger-ale to help keep it down. He pretended to be interested in the photos, no reason to upset the man when he was sitting so close to him.
He scratched at his cheek and winced. The slap that Bashere had given him had apparently been hard enough to bruise his cheek and it was tender to the touch. "Probably turning black and blue too." he thought. There was one consolation however, Bashere himself was sporting a bruise, right where Charlie's fist had met with his chin and he felt a sensation of satisfaction wash over him.
"What do you think?" Bashere asked .
"Uh…what?" Charlie had not been paying attention. "Sorry, I think I'm still a little drowsy."
"Hmmm….perhaps the sedative hasn't quite worn off yet. It shouldn't take much longer though, I only gave you a light dose. I wanted to make sure that you were awake during our flight….to give us more time to get to know one another."
Charlie glanced away and kept silent, tightening his jaw to prevent himself from letting the man know what he really thought about him and his ideas. Bashere's mood swings were quick and violent and he had been privy to them on more than one occasion. However, he didn't like the direction that the conversation was going in so he decided to try and change the subject.
"You still haven't told me where we are going."
Bashere studied him for a moment before turning back to the laptop.
"I believe I will keep that a secret for now."
Changing tactics Charlie asked. "How long will it take us to get there?"
"Oh, about eleven hours I should think, that is if we ever get off the ground." he grimaced and looked at his watch.
"Adam!" he called out suddenly.
The young man hurried forward. "Yes, Henri." A hopeful look appeared in his eyes.
"Find out why we are still on the ground. We should have taken off ten minutes ago, and leave the door open, I want to see the runway."
"Yes, Henri." he answered meekly and hurried toward the cockpit.
"So…ah… we'll have to stop and refuel somewhere?" Charlie began again.
"Yes, yes of course." the man replied a little distractedly, eyeing the cockpit.
Charlie needed more data before he could plot their destination. Maybe there was something in the pictures. He hadn't been paying that much attention when Bashere had shown them to him earlier, especially the ones from the exterior of the estate. There might be a landmark of some kind that he would recognize.
"May I look at the pictures again?" he asked casually.
"Really? " Bashere turned in surprise. He started to turn the laptop around and stopped midway turning to peruse him closely and then awareness crossed his features and he grinned.
"You are truly amazing... that marvelous brain of yours is trying to calculate our destination, isn't it?"
Charlie just shrugged and looked away without responding to his question. Denying it would be useless, Bashere had already figured out his intentions. Don had always told him that his face was like an open book, easy to read, because his eyes always reflected his true emotions.
Excitedly, the older man turned to face him. "Let me see now, what information did I give you? I told you that it would take us eleven hours to get there and that we would have to refuel but that's not enough data is it? That's why you wanted to see the pictures, look for clues, right?" and then the man did something that Charlie never expected. ...he laughed out loud.
"Oh, my dear boy, I can see that I'm going to have to be very careful when you are around or you will discover all of my secrets."
He didn't appear angry at all, only amused, and he wagged his forefinger at the young professor. "No more information for you until we get there."
Adam had returned and was standing beside Bashere's chair waiting to be noticed.
"Well, what's the problem?" his asked impatiently.
"Apparently one of the planes in front of us had some sort of malfunction but they have repaired it now and we should be underway momentarily."
"It's about time." he muttered, dismissing the man with a wave of his hand.
That nagging thought had returned and although Charlie didn't want to anger the man there was a question that he desperately needed an answer to.
"You didn't hurt them, did you?"
Bashere turned and looked him in the eyes. In a split-second his demeanor had changed; his brown eyes seemed even colder when he responded. "We had a deal, remember?"
"Yes, but you drugged me, remember?" he returned the man's icy stare, refusing to back down.
The older man's face suddenly broke into a smile although it never touched his eyes.
"Touche' again Professor. " he paused as if considering his words carefully. "I really wanted to kill your brother tonight; he has been a pain in the ass from the very beginning."
Charlie's face darkened as he listened to the older man's explanation. His hatred for him grew with each word that Bashere uttered.
"I wanted him to suffer, you see, the way that I had suffered when he shot me." he shifted his position in the seat so that he and Charlie were face to face. "Fortunately, I realized that by taking you away I could inflict a lifetime of pain and misery on him." his smile broadened as he added. "Death would have been merciful."
Bashere moved closer until he was leaning on Charlie's arm leaving his face only inches away. Charlie tried to move further away but with his arm shackled to the chair he couldn't go very far.
"That "brotherly-bond" that the two of you share worked perfectly into my plans." Bashere's voice had taken on a husky tone and he leaned even closer to the younger man. He stretched out his hand as if to touch Charlie's hair and the young man tried to move his head out of reach. Undaunted, Bashere grabbed a handful of the young man's curls and forced his head back around to face him.
Charlie winced from the pain and tried to push him away with his free hand only to have that arm held down as well. The lecherous look in Bashere's eyes caused an uncontrollable shudder to pass through his body and in a panic he tried to kick at the man but the seatbelt and the man's body restricted his movements.
Stop! Let…me…go!" he gasped out angrily, continuing to struggle against the Frenchman.
The sound of the tower calling the pilot distracted Bashere and he abruptly released the younger man and pulled away to listen to the transmission.
Charlie swallowed and inhaled a shaky breath of relief as the man pulled away but he kept a wary eye on him as he listened to the voices from the cockpit.
"Bonneville IV 55582, this is the tower. We have an emergency landing in progress and we need to clear the runway. Taxi your jet immediately back to the hangar. Do you copy?'
Bashere jumped up from his chair and ran to the cockpit. "They're on to us, get this plane in the air!"
"Bonneville IV 55582, I say again, do you copy?"
"Don't answer, just take of!" the angry man hissed. "Move it! I haven't paid you all that money to just sit here!"
The pilot tilted his head back so he could face Bashere. "If we just take off they could send a fighter jet after us."
"You idiot! They're not going to shoot us down as long as we have Dr. Eppes on board, and since when have you guys worried about getting shot down. I should think with your history you would be more afraid of being caught and put on death row." He looked each of them in the eye and watched them flinch at his cold stare. "Now get this bird in the air!"
He turned abruptly and returned to his seat angrily jerking at his seatbelt to fasten it.
333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333
The Bonneville lear jet taxied out onto the runway and the engine began to hum louder as the pilot pushed forward on the throttle; the plane suddenly began to pick up speed.
Charlie's eyes focused on the runway in front of them and he said a silent good-bye to his family and his friends. His heart sank as the momentum of the jet increased and just as he thought all was lost, flashing lights suddenly appeared ion the runway in front of them and were rapidly closing the distance to their position.
Bashere shouted at the pilot and ordered him to hurry.
The jet was moving faster now and it looked as if they would be up in the air before the FBI and LAPD vehicles could reach them.
Charlie felt a surge of hope; Don had figured it out, against all of the odds, his brother had found him. But the hope was short lived as the plane started to lift into the air, leaving the ground and his brother far below him.
Desperately, he turned to the older man. "Give it up Bashere, it's too late."
"Your brother is the one that is too late Professor." Bashere stated coldly between clenched teeth and then he yelled at the pilot. "Get this thing into the air! "Now!
The jet continued on it's path and the front wheel began to rise from the tarmac. The first vehicle was getting closer now and it would be under the plane in only seconds. They had to get higher or they weren't going to make it.
33333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333
Don and his entourage left the highway just as the second jet took to the air and his heart began to sink as he watched the french jet began to taxi down the runway.
"Get in touch with the tower, find out why that plane is still moving." he ordered as he put more pressure on the gas pedal.
The agent lost sight of the runway when the road took them around the hangar before it opened up onto the runway itself. Megan closed her phone as he pulled the SUV onto the runway and raced madly toward the approaching plane. He had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and only one desperate thought in his mind; to close the distance before the plane had enough room to take off.
"Don, the tower says the plane isn't responding to their calls."
"Dam him!" The agent hissed and switched on his radio. "Eppes here, spread out, we need to block their path."
Immediately the vehicles behind him sped up and fanned out across the runway. They raced forward, desperately trying to close the distance before the plane gained enough speed to get airborne.
"What the hell is he doing?" David called out from the back seat. "The pilot has to know that he's not going to make it."
The distance between them closed rapidly without the plane showing any signs of powering down and it began to lift off from the runway.
Don and his team instinctively ducked as the plane's back wheels began to fold upward, but they were too close and the left wheel clipped the side of the SUV, shattering the driver's side window and propelling fragmented glass all over the agents inside. The collision sent the vehicle spinning around in circles until it rammed into the side of one of the LAPD patrol cars.
Don cautiously lifted his head and checked out his team. "Everyone okay? Is anyone hurt?"
A chorus of okay's greeted him as he brushed away the broken glass that covered him. He glanced over at the patrol car and the officer's gave him a thumbs up so he turned his attention back to the plane and starting his SUV.
Megan grabbed his forearm. "Your face is bleeding." she said with a worried look in her eyes. "Let me check it out?"
Don touched the side of his temple and wiped at the blood that was running into his eyes. "No, it's nothing, just a scratch." he said distractedly as he desperately tried to start the SUV. Finally the engine roared to life and he turned the vehicle around and sped off in pursuit of the airborne jet with the tactical van and the police cruisers trailing behind him.
33333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333
The plane shuddered violently as the jet connected with one of the approaching vehicles but it still continued on it's upward climb. The collision with the car had damaged the rear left wheel of the plane and it was jammed half way up. This was throwing the jet off balance and the pilot was having trouble trying to control the take off. Finally, he managed to get airborne but staying that way was becoming a serious problem. The weight of the extended wheel was not only weighing them down but also keeping them off balance. It kept dragging them back down and he couldn't maintain the required altitude. They flew out over the water but the pilot was losing his battle to keep it in the air. The wings of the jet kept tipping from side to side because of the extended wheel and in a last ditch effort the pilot turned the plane back toward the shore and desperately tried to make it back to the airport. A few minutes later he realized that he wasn't going to make it so he dumped his reserve fuel into the ocean and scanned for a place to land.
Charlie covered his head, trying to protect himself from the lose objects that were flying all around the cabin. He could hear the voice of the co-pilot as he frantically called out a mayday, giving the tower their position. There were shouts coming from the rear of the plane and sounds of objects falling all around them. The cockpit door kept slamming shut and then re-opening with the movement of the plane.
The door was open now and Charlie stared in horror at the approaching jagged sea cliffs of the La Jolla Valley. He held his breath as the plane slipped even lower and the wall of the sea cliffs filled the window They weren't going to make it…they were going to smash into the cliff-side and fall 350 feet to the rocks and water below.
Charlie had know all along that he wasn't going to survive this time, but dying this way was a surprise…..and a relief; it would be a quick death. With only a few precious minutes left, his thoughts turned to his family. At least they would have some closure now and he could be buried next to his Mother.
The sound of the handcuffs clicking shut drew his attention to Bashere. He had removed the handcuff from the arm of the chair and put it around his own wrist.
Stunned, Charlie stammered. "What…what are you doing?"
Bashere grimly adjusted the cuff around his own wrist as he answered. "I vowed we would live together or die together. I would have preferred to live but at least we will spend eternity together." The older man shifted in his seat and gripped the other arm of his chair tightly before making eye contact with Charlie. "Your brother has killed you." he added bitterly.
The young mathematician glanced down at the handcuffs that now bound the two of them together and raised his head to lock eyes with Bashere. Charlie's eyes were always expressive, even more so now that the end was near. The fear had left his eyes and the love and pride that he felt for his brother shown with such an intensity that Bashere actually flinched.
"No, your wrong, Don hasn't killed me…..he has killed you." With unshed tears in his eyes, Charlie brought his chin up proudly and passionately whispered. " My brother has set me free."
333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333
In a frantic effort, the pilot managed to pull the nose of the plane up and over the edge of the cliff but the jammed wheel caught on an outcropping of rock and the plane landed heavily on it's belly as it landed. The front half of the aircraft continued to move forward with such force that it ripped the plane into two pieces. The cockpit and the forward half of the plane came to rest almost three hundred yards from the edge of the cliff, finally stopping after it became wedged between two large oaks. The tail section remained on the edge of the cliff, dangling precariously over the side.