Mind Games

Chapter 26

See Chapter 1 for disclaimer

A/N: This is bad; this is very bad...

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Agent Pete Thorn glanced over at the figure hunched in the passenger seat beside him. "Okay, now that I violated my general instructions, do you mind telling me what this is about?"

Dr. Eppes glanced at him, and then back out the windshield, and Thorn thought to himself how young he looked; he wasn't what he'd expected when they'd told him he was a professor. Especially now - the professor appeared frightened, vulnerable, shaken to his core. The young man responded, his voice low and husky. "I really can't say right now – I need to discuss this with some – acquaintances - at the FBI. It is serious; trust me."

"Is there some reason you couldn't discuss it with your brother?"

Charlie shook his head faintly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "No."

Thorn glanced in the rearview mirror. "You may have to – I think he and Agent Cooperman are behind us."

He caught the pure fear in his passenger's eyes as Charlie stared at him and then peered in the passenger side mirror at the SUV behind them. He said nothing; however, just huddled in his seat, with his eyes fixed on the reflection, and Thorn frowned, speculatively.

It took them a little over twenty minutes to get downtown - much of the rush hour traffic had already cleared. As they approached the office building, Charlie suddenly directed Thorn to make a left, then a quick right, then had him enter a parking garage. Thorn did so, grabbing a ticket from the automated dispenser and pulling inside, before the SUV behind them could turn the corner. They watched through the rearview mirror as it rolled past the parking lot entrance, and then Charlie had Thorn proceed immediately to the exit, which let back out onto the street leading to the office building. Thorn did as he was told, paid the five-dollar minimum to exit the garage, and seconds later, pulled in front of the FBI office building, a quizzical look on his face. Light streamed out into the night from the lobby doors, and they could see a security guard at a desk inside. "I'll let you out here. Wait inside for me at the security desk – I'm just gonna park this at the curb, but I need to get the vehicle away from the entrance."

Charlie shook his head, opening the door, and slid out stiffly onto the pavement. "I'm going on upstairs – you'll find me up there."

"Dr. Eppes," Thorn began in protest, but Charlie was already gone, pushing through the doors and approaching a security guard inside at the desk. Thorn shook his head and pulled the vehicle forward into a spot along the curb. It wasn't any more legal than where he'd just been, but at least it wasn't in front of a fire hydrant. As he opened his door, he caught the lights of Don Eppes' SUV in his rearview mirror, about one block back.

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The CIA operative stationed inside, Mike Tate, spoke quietly with the phone to his ear from his spot in the side hallway, near the elevators. "Yes, I see him," he said, "he's coming in now."

Ziegler spoke on the other end. "Does it make sense to stage it right there in the lobby? How many witnesses are there?"

"I don't think so," said Tate. "An occasional person passes through, but other than that it's just me and the security guard – and it looks like there may be some of the NSA protection detail right on the doctor's heels. It would be easy for them to intervene."

"All right," said Ziegler. "Proceed as planned – get him upstairs and into the location we discussed. We'll direct his brother there. We're going to tell Don Eppes to take off his jacket once he gets up there – make sure you get your hands on it and take it with you. We can't have anyone finding the boosters and the camera. Hang on to it, though – we may need it yet. And stay available."

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Charlie barely slowed at the security desk; he recognized the security guard and gave him a nod, hoping the man wouldn't notice that he didn't have his badge. He knew that in spite of his quick dodge through the parking garage, Don would only be minutes behind him, and it was all he could do not to bolt for the elevators. He felt as though he were playing a game of 'monster' again – this time for keeps. He'd feel much better in the relative safety of the offices upstairs, surrounded by friends and team members. No matter how angry Don was with him, he wouldn't try anything up there.

"Dr. Eppes, wait a minute," said the guard, a man Charlie knew as Karl. "You don't have a badge."

"Yeah, I'm really in a hurry," Charlie said, reluctantly stopping at the edge of the desk. The guard's eyes were on his throat, and Charlie realized that he must have marks from Don's assault. He pulled his shirt collar higher around his neck, fidgeting with impatience. "I forgot it."

"I can't let you up without one," Karl said. "I'm sorry Doctor, but it's the rules. You can go up, but you'll need a visitor pass and an escort."

"I'll take him up," came a voice. Charlie glanced to his left, to see another security guard approaching.

Karl pushed a visitor badge across the desk. "Here you go, Doctor. I'll sign you in." He shot a quick glance at the other guard. "Haven't seen you before."

Mike Tate shot him a quick grin. "Mike Johnson. I usually work over at the courthouse." He turned as he spoke, following Charlie, who was already striding toward the elevators as quickly as he was able. Tate caught up to him as the elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside.

Karl watched them go, a frown on his face. No one had told him that an extra guard had been assigned tonight. He didn't have time to process the thought, however; he looked up as another man pushed through the door, and flashed an NSA badge. "Agent Thorn," he said. "I'm with Dr. Eppes."

"I'm sorry," said Karl, "but regardless of your agency, if you're not FBI, we need clearance from someone upstairs in order to let you up. Dr. Eppes already went up with a security guard. You also need a visitor's badge, and you need to sign in. Who are you here to see?"

"I'm here to see whoever Dr. Eppes is here to see," snapped Thorn. As he spoke, the doors opened behind him, and Agent Cooperman and Don Eppes came through.

Karl said, "Agent Eppes can probably take you up," and he attempted to wave them down. Cooperman altered course and jogged over to Thorn, but Don Eppes kept going, lengthening his stride to a sprint, headed toward the elevators.

Thorn and Cooperman exchanged dumbfounded looks, but Thorn relaxed a little. The professor was with a security guard, in a building full of FBI agents. There was no great hurry to follow him. "What in the hell's going on?" he asked Cooperman. "Did you get anything out of him?"

"Not a thing," said Cooperman. "I guess you didn't either? Maybe there's a hot case."

"Dr. Eppes seemed pretty agitated," replied Thorn. "You may be right – maybe it involves someone they know."

"What happened to Dr. Eppes' throat?" asked Karl, and they turned to look at him.

"His throat?" echoed Thorn. It had been dark in the yard and in his vehicle – he hadn't noticed anything unusual. "What about his throat?"

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The elevator doors opened, and Charlie shot out of them into the hallway, heading right for the bullpen, Tate trailing behind him. Charlie started toward Colby and David's desks, only to see them empty, and he stopped and looked around frantically. His sense of urgency was rising – he desperately wanted a chance to talk with the team members before Don got there. As he turned, he nearly bumped into Nikki, and he grabbed her arm. "Nikki – are Colby, David, or Megan here?"

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, and he dropped his arm. "Yeah," she said, "they're all here. We're workin' a case in the back conference room." He had come about to face her, and her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the bruises on his neck.

"I need to talk them, right now," Charlie blurted. "Is it just them in the room?"

She shook her head slowly, a frown of confusion on her face. "No, A.D. Wright's with us." Her eyes searched his face, taking in his obvious distress, and she flicked a glance at the security guard, who stood behind him.

Charlie thought quickly. The last person he wanted to hear his story was Don's A.D. "I really need to talk to one or all of three of them, confidentially," he said, "Without Wright."

Nikki hesitated; then nodded. "Okay, I'll go get them."

Charlie shot a glance over his shoulder, looking for a private place to talk. "I'll be in that conference room," he said, indicating the glass-walled room across the bullpen, and she gave him a nod as she headed toward the hallway.

Tate looked at him. "All right, sir – are you situated?"

Charlie was already heading toward the conference room. "Yes," he said, distractedly. "Thank you."

"No problem," responded Tate. He moved away toward the elevators, pulling out his phone, with a glance around the empty bullpen. "He's in place. It was easy – he headed in there on his own," he said, and shut the phone and stopped in front of the elevators, just as the doors opened and Don Eppes strode out. He already had his denim jacket off, and he shoved it at Tate, who took it and shot one more glance at the glass-walled conference room, then stepped onto the elevator. It wouldn't do for him to be there when it went down; a real security guard would be expected to break up the attack. He would slip back downstairs and into his suit, and would head back out into the night with the jacket, his mission complete. The target was at the assassination point.

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'He's in the conference room,' said the voice in Don's head, and he barely broke stride as he exited the elevator and turned for the bullpen. It was all he could do to control his rage. The voice drifted through his head, and fragments made their way through his fury-twisted consciousness. '…you knew he couldn't be trusted…he's a double agent…he's been a liar all his life…time to show the world what a cancer he is…'

As he strode into the bullpen, he saw Charlie's head come up through the glass of the conference room, saw the look of fear that crossed his face as he realized that Don was heading toward him. Don winced as his dream from the night before flashed through his mind – Charlie in the corner of the garage, begging for mercy, and for a moment, he faltered. A wave of pain shot through his head, bringing with it renewed fury, and he was moving again, moving toward the target, his eyes fixed on him. 'I hate you…I hate you…'

He heard Colby's voice call out his name from the hallway behind him, but he ignored him, and with one quick stride, he reached the conference room, shut the door, and locked it behind him. He was boiling now, erupting inside in spite of the images of young Charlie in the garage trying to break through; and he pushed them down with bursts of fury, the agony in his head growing. Growling with frustration, rage, and pain, he reached down and pulled the knife from the sheath strapped to his leg. 'Kill him,' said the voice, 'kill him now.'

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"What's going on?" gasped Megan, as Colby broke into a trot in front of her, and David, beside her, followed suit. Ahead, she could see Don stride into the conference room and shut the door, and as she cleared the end of the hallway, she could see Charlie, standing, facing him. He had backed up against the wall farthest from Don, his hands half-raised as if to defend himself, pure terror on his face.

"Oh my God," breathed David, as he darted forward to close the distance between himself and Colby, and at the same moment, Megan saw it – the knife in Don's hand, and Don advancing toward Charlie, with a look of rage on his face that so twisted his features they were almost unrecognizable.

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"He's hesitating," snapped Ziegler. "Ramp it up."

"It's almost to the maximum safe level," said Korb, hunched over dials, his shoulders knotted with tension. "I'm putting it up to max."

The group leaned over the monitors in the control room. They had two vantage points – the camera mounted inside the conference room, and a camera out in the bullpen that showed a long angle of the conference room. That camera also revealed part of the bullpen itself, and Ziegler watched as Agent Granger darted into view, followed closely by Agent Sinclair and Megan Reeves. Granger headed directly toward the door and grabbed the doorknob, shaking it so hard the metal doorframe rattled, and then pounded on the bulletproof glass wall of the room, yelling Don's name. The agent named Nikki drifted into camera range, followed by A. D. Wright, stunned looks on their faces, as the knife flashed down.

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Charlie backed away, his hands up, his heart pounding so hard he could scarcely breathe, his eyes darting to the knife in Don's hand, and then back to his brother's face. The fear wasn't only for his own life – it was also for Don's. His brother had undeniably crossed some sort of edge, was having some kind of mental breakdown, and even if he were stopped at that moment, that thought alone was horrifying. "Please, Don," he heard himself saying in a shaking voice, taking another step backward as Don advanced. "Please – it'll be okay, we'll get you some help – just don't do this."

Don's face was truly terrifying, and he was issuing guttural growls that sounded as though they were generated by mingled rage and pain. "I hate you, you little son of a bitch," he rasped. "You lying little traitor." He jerked, his whole body in spasm, and he closed his eyes. Charlie had the sudden sense that some part of Don was fighting the insanity that gripped him, and he held his breath, hoping that when the eyes opened, it would be Don looking out at him. Instead, as Don's lids shot open again, the light of pure hatred was so intense, it almost made Charlie's knees buckle. The knife came down for the first time, and he raised a hand to ward it off, so immersed in terror he barely felt the bite of the blade on his arm. He stumbled backward as the knife arced down again.

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"OPEN THE DOOR!" screamed Megan, and Colby and David both drew back and rammed it with their powerful shoulders. The blow was enough to shake the whole frame of the conference room, and the resin-reinforced glass rattled, but the door didn't budge. The knife was flashing, coming down again and again, and Megan could see Charlie stagger against the wall, his arms still half-raised, blood streaming from his wounds. His back hit the wall, and he slid downward to a sitting position as his knees gave out, arms still upraised helplessly.

Colby, frustrated, grabbed a chair and swung it at the glass with a mighty heave, trying to shatter it. It bounced off so hard he lost his grip, and the chair tumbled away. Inside, Don raised the knife over Charlie's prone form, with a snarl of hatred.

"Everyone back up! Take cover!" yelled David, and he pulled his service revolver, aiming at the door handle.

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Ziegler's eyes flitted back and forth between the monitors, taking in the developing scene. "We have to finish this. They'll be inside in a second."

"He's not issuing a kill strike," said Wilkes tersely. "He's hitting non-critical areas of the body, and backing off as the blade contacts the target. He's still fighting it."

"Then ramp it up some more!" barked Ziegler. "We're almost there, and we won't get another shot at this!"

They could hear Jamison's voice over the speakers. "Kill him – finish it!"

"He's at the maximum safe range," protested Korb. "If I raise the current any more, he could stroke out, and he won't be able to continue."

"We're at the point where we have to take that chance," Ziegler growled. "Do it – now!"

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It took five shots to destroy the door lock. Megan watched as Colby and David barged through it, and at the same time, she saw Don go rigid and shudder, the knife raised over his head. Charlie was lying on the floor, his arms sagging, as if he'd lost the strength, or the will, to defend himself. Then Don seemed to re-focus, and he drove the knife down with a horrible cry, an animal sound, and a force that dwarfed his earlier blows. Charlie jerked as the blade entered his chest, and Don finally relinquished the knife, leaving it in place as he stood, swaying drunkenly. Megan just stood there, rooted in shock, as A.D. Wright pushed past her, and two other men also darted past and into the room, men she didn't recognize; and she saw them flash NSA badges at Wright. She was dimly aware of Nikki, who had come up beside her; the younger agent had lost her usual cocky street attitude, and was staring at the scene in shock. Don seemed to be finished with his attack, but Colby and David grabbed his arms.

The contact seemed to galvanize Don, and he started to struggle like a wild animal, screaming, shouting curses at Charlie, as they managed to cuff his hands behind his back. One of the other agents was coming forward, and he and David took Don's arms and dragged him out of the room. Megan stood like a stone, watching them pass as if from a distance, nauseated by the look of insane fury on Don's face; taking in the look of devastation on David's. She turned back, slowly, and saw Colby and Wright bending over Charlie in the conference room. Charlie's eyes were still open, but judging from the position of the knife in his chest, he didn't have long.

Suddenly, with a sickening jolt, she reacted. "911!" she screamed. "Someone call 911!" As she came to her senses, she fumbled for her own phone with shaking hands, and dialed.

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Ziegler, Wilkes, and Korb took a breath and sat back. "That's a kill strike," said Wilkes, and Ziegler nodded.

"Good work," he said. "Take him down."

Korb nodded. "I pulled him down into the safe zone as soon as he took that last strike," he said. "I can take it down more; put him in a calmer state."

Ziegler shot a look at Jamison, who was watching them from the soundproof booth, following their conversation through his headset. "You can take him down all the way," he said. "It's done." He looked at Wilkes. "I understand if we withdraw all stimuli and let him revert back to his natural state, he'll remember what happened."

Wilkes nodded. "Oh, he'll remember, all right. He's preprogrammed to remember most of what he did – even the voices in his head. We blocked out the memories of any instructions concerning the cameras, of the knife delivery, of most of the programming sessions, of the hardware in his jacket – anything that would tie to anyone other than himself. He'll be in a stuporous state for an hour or two as his brain adjusts to the lack of current, but when he comes out, he'll remember stabbing his brother - he just won't understand why he did it."

Ziegler grunted, with approval. "Good. We're done for now – we'll deal with Don Eppes later." He eyed the prone figure in the conference room. Charles Eppes' eyes were still open, but they wouldn't be for long. The knife was protruding from the region of his chest that contained his heart – death would come in moments. Still, they needed to be certain.

"I'll get a man at whatever hospital they take him to, and make sure the objective was completed," he said. "You gentlemen, however, are done. Nice work. Your country doesn't know it, but they are indebted to you."

"Thank you, sir," said Wilkes, as Ziegler gave them a curt nod, and left the room. He looked at Korb and at Jamison, who had removed his headset and was coming out of the booth. "I'm going to report out to Allman, then call Team C and tell them they don't need to come in," he said. "I'll see you later."

The door closed behind him, and Korb and Jamison both looked at the screen, silently. "You know," said Jamison, "this was a tough one. I don't know why – it just felt funny. Wrong."

Korb nodded gravely, his eyes still on the screen. "I know what you mean – I know they say this method is foolproof, but for a minute there, I really thought Don Eppes was going to beat it. He fought it hard – in spite of the fact that his brother was a traitor, he really loved him."

Jamison sighed, and ran a hand over his face. "I think I can only handle a couple more of these," he said. "Then I'm putting in for a transfer." He paused. "Want to get a beer?"

Korb glanced at his watch, and nodded. "Yeah. I've had enough for one night."

A team of paramedics with a gurney had appeared on the monitors. Korb flicked the cameras off, and then followed Jamison out of the control room. The monitor screens stared back like blank dead eyes, into the silent room.

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End, Chapter 26