FBI OFFICE, EVENING OF DON'S ARREST

Special Agent Victor Nychev was beginning to cave to the pleas of one very concerned math professor to be allowed to watch his brother's interrogation. His first instinct had been to throw the curly-haired pest out on his ass, but he'd always been a sucker for desperate sincerity.

"Look – I won't say anything, I won't do anything, and for the thirtieth time I don't think you're going to beat my brother. But he is my brother, and he is innocent, and if I've learned anything about the FBI it's that most of you are decent people. So please, please let me do what it is I do," said Charlie, his voice cracking.

Nychev shifted on his desk. "Hey – the part of me that wants to make damn sure agent Eppes doesn't go down for something he didn't do is willing to have this case vetted by anyone, including you. The part of me that wants to win when this thing gets to court has serious reservations about allowing you or any member of his team anywhere near the investigation."

"Look," said David, who had earned Charlie's eternal gratitude in the last hour for championing their joint request to at least be allowed to follow Don's case. "Don's one of the most loyal guys I know, and I'm pretty sure he'd die to protect any of us. But he wouldn't tamper with evidence to let one of us skate on a crime we committed. He wouldn't expect any of us to do it, either. But if he's innocent…."

"He's not," said Nychev bluntly. "I'm sorry, I really am. This is a good case."

"Then you have nothing to lose," said Charlie.

Nychev sighed. "Okay. Here's how it's going to be. You can watch the interrogation, and you can follow the investigation. But if any of you so much as breathe on evidence, or use FBI resources or speak to a witness before clearing it with me first, you will go to jail for obstruction. Got it?"

"Thank you," said Charlie, closing his eyes in relief. "I won't be a problem for you, I promise."

Agent Nychev stood and glanced at his watch. "Be in the booth in fifteen minutes." With that, he walked away, and Charlie and David joined the rest of the team in the break room.

OBSERVATION BOOTH, FBI INTERVIEW ROOM

Charlie and David entered, taking their places between two watching agents from the financial crimes unit. Don was sitting alone, handcuffed to the table, his head down and to the side to the camera couldn't capture his expression. The sight hit Charlie in the gut with more force than he ever could have anticipated, and he turned away, gulping.

David spoke to him very quietly. "You need to be prepared for the fact that this could be tough for you to watch, okay? If you can't handle it, there's no shame in leaving, but you need to keep it together. You can always watch the tapes."

"I can handle it," said Charlie, the credibility of his words somewhat lessened by his pale expression and inability to face the window again.

Agent Nychev entered the interrogation room, setting down a file on the table and introducing himself. Don explored the agent's face without replying. Nychev motioned at the handcuffs. "Will I regret taking those off?"

"No," said Don, his voice quiet. Even Charlie couldn't read him; he'd shut off every hint of expression.

Nychev released him and sat down. "Let's not play games, Eppes. You know what this is about. You planning to lawyer up and give us the silent treatment, or you gonna make my life easier and confess?"

Don studied the other agent silently for more than a minute, observing his expression, body language, even his eye movement. "I've been sitting here over an hour, and I'm still wondering what on earth is happening."

Nychev slid a paper across the table to Don. "Your arrest warrant." Another followed it rapid-fire. "Your offshore account. Balance one point five million dollars, deposited in hundred-thousand dollar increments." Another paper. "Your donations to your temple, support groups for crime vicims, and five children's centers, each considerably larger than your annual salary."

They were coming faster now, far exceeding Don's ability to examine them, and finally Nychev slammed the whole file down in front of him.

"You set up a dummy website to pretend to be an affiliate of Werman Brothers promoting an exclusive, closed-end hedge fund for major investors. You sent phishing emails to members of Werman Brothers client list implying major returns in an emerging growth industry, and then you pocketed the money."

Don buried his forehead in his hands. "Look – I know how this is going to sound, but I didn't do this." He raised his head and looked directly at Nychev. "I know this job, and I know what conclusions I'd be drawing in your place. But I'm innocent. I'm looking you right in the eyes and telling you I have nothing to do with this, so please just keep that in your mind when you examine this case."

Nychev lowered his glance and sighed. "You sure know what buttons to push. But I've done some looking into your history. For such a decorated agent, you don't exactly have a shining record of respect for the law. I was particularly fascinated by the Robin Hood case. You let a felon walk, because you empathized with his actions. Was that where this started? Maybe you respected what he'd done, and started thinking that the only way to really make a difference in the world was to step outside the law. Is that what happened?"

Don smiled. "No. But good interrogation technique."

Nychev couldn't resist a small return smile. "They don't let you run a team unless you're good. You're good, Eppes. You've done amazing things for the bureau, but that doesn't get you a free pass to break the law, no matter how much you think you deserve it."

Don shook his head. "Seriously? You think I feel like this job owes me something? I think I owe every person I didn't save in time. That's it." He picked up the folder in front of him. "Looks a lot like the kind of circumstantial evidence you'd find if someone were trying to frame an FBI agent."

Nychev looked at him without a hint of readable expression on his face. "Your brother's in the booth. You want to make him watch the next part?"

Don's glanced directly into the monitors, his expression one of sudden pain. "Charlie –" He looked away and groaned before looking at the one-way glass separating them. "You don't have to watch this, buddy."

"Last chance," said Nychev, his voice hard. He sat on the table next to Don, leaning close to the other agent as he withdrew a portable recorder from his pocket. When Don didn't respond, he pressed play.