Chapter Five

A few hours later, after Harold had retired for the night, Charlie was still up, working on cracking the encryption. John sat over by the wall of numbers, thoroughly cleaning his gun. It was close to four o'clock in the morning. Occasionally, Charlie's eyes would slowly close and he'd begin to slouch over, but when he'd feel himself falling, he'd jolt back upright. All he could do to stay conscious was continuously drink cans of highly caffeinated soda. But at times he still began to slip into dreamland. The mathematician was working up a sweat scribbling numbers and symbols on paper. Charlie set the pencil on the piece of paper and leaned back in his seat. He pressed his palm into his forehead, the caffeine and lack of sleep making him lightheaded. He stared, eyes transfixed on the codes on the computer screens. John was feeling a little weary as well, but he was used to it, little did he know Charlie spent many a night awake and writing math on chalkboards instead of sleeping soundly. When Charlie began to lose consciousness again, he started to fall out of the chair, waking up just barely in time to catch himself. "You should sleep," John's smooth, quiet voice blew across the room.

The professor rubbed his eyes, replying in a mumble, "I can't. I have to finish this before they die."

"I want to save them as much as you do, but you're going to hurt yourself like this," John disputed. "I didn't save your life twice for nothing."

"If I have it in my power to save them . . . I just have to," Charlie moaned. "I think I'm almost done. I can sleep when I'm dead."

John's cellphone vibrated in his pocket. It was Detective Carter. "Yes, Detective?" he answered.

"I found your man," she said.

John's posture straightened slightly. "I'm listening."

"A man named Kalen Dakar's been missing since last week. He lives in LA, but he was sighted yesterday at the New York Mathematics Convention. Guess what happened to his brother?"

John put two and two together. "Don Eppes arrested him, didn't he?" he mused.

"Exactly," Carter confirmed. "I wish I could tell you more, John, but he hasn't been sighted since. No one knows where he is."

"So what are you doing up so early?" John asked out of curiosity.

"If you must know, my son's got the flu. I can't get much sleep when he's up all night throwing up, so I decided to use my spare time to do some research."

"I hope he feels better. I appreciate your efforts, Detective," John said gratefully, and hung up.

Charlie was still rubbing his eyes, oblivious to John's conversation. He was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyelids open. With his last ounce of strength, Charlie pressed on, and was stunned when the codes he typed into the computer made the encryption vanish. A map popped up with a red dot pinpointing a location—their suspect's landline. Charlie gaped slack-jawed. "I—I did it," he muttered in awe. "I did it!"

John sprung from his seat to look at the screen. "I know where that is," John stated, grabbing for his gun. "Stay here," he ordered, and jogged outside.

The mathematician leaned back, closed his eyes, and let himself drift off; he'd earned it.

)(

John crept up the driveway, his gun raised. The house was small, but the lot was good sized. The only light came from a flickering streetlamp. The only sound was New York traffic in the distance. As John approached the building, he glanced around the side to see the weak outline of a toolshed. He hurried behind the house and to the shed's door. The shed was timeworn, made entirely of wood, and it reeked of putrefaction. John gazed in the slim spaces between the slats of wood on the door. A young man and woman lied on the ground, their limbs snared with cord. John couldn't get a visual on the child; nevertheless, he kicked opened the poorly secured door. The young man started squirming in an attempt to sit up. John whipped out his pocket knife and cut the couple free. "Are you alright?" John asked as they stood.

"We're fine," the man replied.

The woman sobbed, "But Ariel's not!"

The lady put her face in her hands and wept. "Where is she?" John pressed.

"He killed her," Harnett's son whispered, holding back his tears.

"Where's Dakar?" John urged, his blood boiling.

"When he abandoned us to starve, he said he had unfinished business he had to take care of," the young man put simply.

"Call 911. I'll take care of Kalen Dakar," John reassured them before taking off.

)(

Charlie would've slept longer, only, his stomach's various moans and growls awoke him. John was still out, and the professor had drunk every last can of soda. John had told him to stay there, but it couldn't hurt to go to a convenience store to pick up a snack, could it? Charlie hadn't eaten since lunch, and the sun would be up soon. He stood, stretched his limbs, and found his way out of the old library. He walked a block to the nearest drug store and grabbed a few bags of chips and a water bottle. The cashier tapped her foot impatiently as Charlie searched his pant pockets for his wallet. "Sorry," he apologized, "I'll check my jacket."

Sure enough, his wallet was in his jacket pocket. When he pulled it out, something metal scratched his hand. He clenched his jaw at the stinging. After handing her a twenty dollar bill and muttering, "Keep the change," he strolled out the door, bag of snacks in hand. Charlie stopped at the street corner and felt around in his pocket. He yanked out a small, round object the size of a microchip. Holding it up to inspect it closely, the cool kiss of metal planted on his temple. He turned his head to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. "Don't move," a red-haired man spat.

The mathematician's pulse rate climbed. "Who are you?"

"I'm Kalen Dakar."

He didn't recognize the name. "Okay," Charlie said long and drawn out.

"Don Eppes shot my brother!"

Charlie swallowed. "I'm sorry for your loss, but I'm sure your brother did something to deserve it."

"That doesn't make a difference! I needed him! I was always the smart one, so when my parents could only afford to send one of us to college, they chose me. He had to give up his dreams. It wasn't his fault he didn't have enough money! He stole because he thought it was the only way he'd get some. But your brother killed him instead of giving him the help he needed!" Dakar cried, pressing the gun into Charlie's forehead. "I knew Eppes had to pay some way or another. So I tracked you down, and now the fed will know what it feels like to lose a brother that meant everything to him!"

Dakar's finger wrapped around the trigger, and Charlie squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the end. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the surrounding buildings, followed by the thud of a man dropping onto the sidewalk. John lowered his weapon. Charlie opened his eyes when he realized he hadn't been shot. He saw Dakar lying dead in his peripheral vision; he didn't dare gaze directly at the body. John turned to face him. "Are you okay?"

Charlie nodded fervently. He held up the object he found in his pocket. "I think he bugged me with a tracking device."