Mind Games
Chapter 31
See Chapter 1 for disclaimer
A/N: Thanks for the reviews, and the continuing alerts...
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Rogan and Masters had spent the night in shifts, each of them sleeping for a couple of hours while the other kept a vigil with Don Eppes. After determining that Don was stable, the doctor had ordered a sedative for him, and the agent had finally succumbed to exhaustion, and dropped off to sleep. He'd seemed devastated by what had happened, and as Rogan studied his sleeping face, he found himself feeling sorry for the man. Dangerous feelings, he knew – they had no idea of how far gone Eppes was, how much brainwashing had to be reversed before they could trust him again. It appeared to Rogan, however, that perhaps the reversal would come easily, based on the agent's reaction. As he sat there in the silence, the thought came to him that if they could trust Eppes; perhaps they could even use him to get to the people who had planned the assassination.
The doctor released Don Eppes early the next morning. As ordered, Masters had arranged for him to be sent back to a holding cell – they placed him in a secluded cell at the Metropolitan Detention Center – secluded for his own safety. No one considered it a good idea to put a federal agent with other prisoners. The official story was that he was awaiting a hearing, but Director Conaghan had ordered an operative assigned to the cellblock cameras in order watch the prisoner. They were now aware that by virtue of the device in his head, Don Eppes could be contacted at any time, and no one would be the wiser. The operatives were instructed to watch him closely, and to look for signs that someone might be speaking to him via the device. As Don was being moved, so was Charlie – he had been flown without incident to another area hospital and admitted under a false name.
Conaghan had also agreed with FBI Director Maxwell on who within the Los Angeles FBI should be informed on the latest developments, so as soon as Don Eppes had been safely established in a holding cell, a weary Rogan and Masters showed up at the FBI offices. A.D. Wright himself met them as they stepped off the elevator, and escorted them to a private conference room down the hall. As they walked, neither Masters nor Rogan could resist a glance at the glass-walled conference room, which apparently had already been cleaned and re-carpeted. A maintenance man squatted by the door, replacing the doorknob.
Wright noticed his glance. "Conaghan didn't waste any time – he had people in here last night, cleaning out the room before my people started showing up this morning. No one knows what happened here last night except those of us who were here."
They stepped inside the conference room to find agents Granger and Sinclair, Megan Reeves, and Nikki Bentancourt – all of them looking exhausted and grim. Wright indicated a vent in the wall above their heads with a jerk of his head. "We found a camera in there this morning," he said. "We're clean for sure in this room now, but they're still looking – they've found others – one in the bull pen, and one in the conference room where the murder took place. Maybe you can tell us how they got there."
Masters saw the agents flinch visibly at the word 'murder,' and he replied. "Alleged murder."
He saw the looks of puzzlement wash over the agents' tired faces, but he didn't elaborate immediately. Instead, he and Rogan took their seats, and Masters leaned forward to address them as Wright sat also, next to his agents. "We've gotten clearance from Washington to include this group, and this group only, in what is an extremely sensitive briefing. We've decided that we can't pull this off without your cooperation."
"Pull what off?" demanded Colby, who was slowly sitting forward as Masters spoke. "What in the hell's going on here?" He felt David's soft nudge under the table, but he didn't care. He'd just spent a night of pure hell, and he was sick at heart. If the damn spooks were playing games…
"First of all," Masters proceeded as if Colby hadn't spoken. "Charles Eppes is not dead. We propagated that myth for his safety." He paused a moment to let that sink in, and watched as the agents stared at him. Megan Reeves' face twisted with emotion, and she put a hand to her forehead to try to cover her reaction. The others sighed audibly with relief and surprise, and Granger slumped back in his chair. All of them were visibly overcome by the news, and Rogan and Masters exchanged a glance. If they had any doubts, the reaction squelched them; it seemed apparent that this group could be trusted.
"His injuries are serious, and his escape was miraculous. The doctors tell us that the knife passed between his heart and his lung, doing little more than grazing either one of them. He has some broken ribs – we believe from a previous assault, and he lost a good deal of blood, which they are still in the process of replacing. He will, however, recover, and early this morning, we moved him to another hospital for his own safety. He'll spend a day or two there, and then be moved to a safe house, where he will continue his recuperation."
David was frowning. "Previous assault?"
"Dr. Eppes had broken ribs and bruises on his torso that the doctors believed were inflicted at least one day prior to the attack. He also had fresh bruises on his neck. When we questioned him this morning, he confirmed that Don had caused them." Masters watched as the agents' faces darkened again.
He cleared his throat. "The reason we are telling you about Dr. Eppes, is that we need your assistance in keeping our cover story intact. He was due to testify at treason proceedings in two weeks. We are still going to try to hold to that schedule if he has healed sufficiently. In the interim, for his safety and to promote the interests of the case, we need people – and by that I mean everyone, including his father – to believe that he is dead." He pushed on, ignoring the look of consternation that came across their faces. "Reeves, Granger, Sinclair – the three of you are closest to them and their friends – much closer than we are, and it's conceivable that you may get a phone call from one of them. We need you to help us keep a lid on this."
"How can you not tell Alan?" Megan Reeves demanded, her eyes flashing. "What possible reason could there be to keep it from him?"
Masters hesitated, and glanced at Rogan, who lifted a shoulder almost imperceptibly, and then Masters spoke again. "Director Conaghan requested that I tell you as little as possible, but I don't see a way around this. You need to know that we suspect that Don's attack was not the result of a mental break – that his attempt at murder was part of a plot to assassinate his brother."
Wright snorted; a sound of derision and anger. "You expect us to believe that?"
Masters' eyes narrowed. "I don't give a shit whether you believe it or not – we have proof. And I didn't say it was intentional on his part."
That statement stopped them all, and they sat staring, with open mouths. Masters took advantage of the silence. "The cameras you found are indicative of that – the attack was planned. What we told you is true, while Don and Charlie were undercover, they were in an accident, and Don suffered a concussion. What we didn't know was that while he was recovering, he was subjected to brainwashing – a very advanced technique that included placing wiring in his brain to control his mental and emotional responses. He was under the control of others during the attack, and truly was not responsible for his actions. Until he is deprogrammed, we still aren't sure he can be trusted, however, and we can't afford for Alan Eppes to slip and reveal that Charlie is alive, so we can't tell him anything. Please, just cooperate – it's only for a few weeks. As soon as we think it's safe, we can reunite Dr. Eppes with his friends and family. Do I have your word?"
There was silence as the agents processed the shocking news, but finally they exchanged glances. "You have our word," said Wright, firmly, and the others nodded and murmured their agreement.
Rogan spoke up. "Good. You need to think about whom their closest friends and family members are – the ones who might expect to be notified if Dr. Eppes were dead."
There was another silence, another exchanged glance. "Well, other than Alan," said Megan slowly, "there's Amita Ramanujan, and Larry Fleinhart. They're both professors with Charlie at Cal Sci. Amita is Charlie's girlfriend, and Larry is his closest friend."
Rogan frowned. "Last evening you said his girlfriend was in Europe. What about Fleinhardt? He wasn't at the hospital."
Megan shook her head. "He's there too - they're both in Europe on a research project and are supposed to be there for another two weeks. I wanted to call them, but last night at the hospital you told us to let you handle all of the communications." She flushed a little. "Larry and I are – good friends. It would seem very odd if I didn't tell him about this."
Rogan considered for a moment. "Do they know you're here in L.A?"
She shook her head. "I was supposed to be on vacation on the East Coast. My plans fell through, and I came here instead. Things have been happening so fast, I didn't get a chance to tell Larry I was here."
Rogan pursed his lips. "So it would be easy for you to pretend that you didn't know that it happened, either – the story could be that you were out on the East Coast and hadn't heard."
She looked uncomfortable. "Yes, I suppose I could."
Rogan looked at Colby and David. "Do you know how to get hold of the professors?"
David shook his head. "Not directly, but it would be easy to find out. I'd just call Mildred Finch, the head of their department at Cal Sci. I'm sure she would have a way to contact them. In fact, I'm sure we have their cell numbers here somewhere, now that I think about it. And of course, Megan has Larry's."
Rogan looked at Masters. "Being in Europe, they won't know what happened. Although they might wonder what was up when they couldn't reach Dr. Eppes by phone." He looked at the agents. "I don't think we should tell them anything. Let them think that nothing has happened. We'll get Charlie a new phone, and make sure he understands that if the professors call him, he should tell them nothing about what happened. The same goes for all of you – if you happen to speak to them, we will give them the same story, that the Eppes men are still in L.A., recovering from their accident, and they will return to Washington in a few weeks to finish their course at Quantico. By the time the professors come home from Europe, it will be behind us. It is quite possible you that one of you may get a call from them – although Dr. Eppes is alive, he is still in serious condition. He probably won't be up to answering their calls for a couple of days. If you do get a call, we'll need you to keep to their cover story."
The group nodded, soberly. Masters looked at Rogan. "We'll need to figure out how to spin this to Mildred Finch. I'm thinking something along the lines of that same story. We'll handle her."
He turned his gaze on the agents. "I realize this is hard, but it's only until the trial. In the meantime, we appreciate your cooperation."
"What about Don?" asked Megan, softly. "What will happen to him?"
"For now, we're holding him in a private cell at the MDC, to make it appear that we don't suspect anything. We've already consulted a neurosurgeon, who is going to schedule him for surgery to remove the apparatus. Once that is complete, we will work on deprogramming him – reversing the brainwashing. No charges will be filed against him."
"Can we visit them?" asked David.
Masters shook his head, and he and Rogan rose from their seats. "I'm sorry, no. Charlie's location is to remain secret, and until Don is deprogrammed, we need to limit contact with him. We appreciate your understanding. If you receive any inquiries about either of them, we need to know."
With a nod, they exited, leaving the FBI team sitting in silence. Colby finally broke it. "Thank God," he said. "For a few hours there, I thought the world was ending."
"I wouldn't celebrate if I were you," said Wright grimly. "It's not over yet."
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They got a messenger in to Alan Eppes two days later. He had actually turned out to be truly difficult to reach. Rogan and Masters had traced him to Juneau, but it took nearly a day of phone calls to determine that he'd gone to the cabin of a Juneau businessman named Rory Lannerman. To make things more difficult, it seemed that the cabin was in the middle of nowhere, with no phone access. To get there, one had to travel to the tiny town of Berner by plane, and a recent snowfall had made the roads inaccessible; their man had to snowmobile out to the cabin. Then there was a day's worth of travel to get back to Juneau, and another day's worth of air travel to get back to L.A. Masters arranged for the messenger to travel back with Alan, but instructed the man only to tell him that there was a family emergency. Four days later, he met Alan as he stepped off the private jet, tired, haggard, and fearing the worst.
"Mr. Eppes, my name is Bill Masters," he said, as the senior Eppes descended the short flight of steps from the plane and moved forward. "Please, come with me."
Alan gripped his arm. "It's the boys, isn't it?" he demanded with a choked voice. "What happened?"
Masters took him by the arm, and guided him to a vehicle parked outside the small hangar. "Please, get in," he said. "I'm going to give you a ride home. We can talk in privacy while we ride."
He opened the rear door, and Alan stared at him for a moment, his eyes anxiously searching the man's face; then complied. He was vaguely aware of someone loading his luggage into the trunk as Masters got into the rear seat beside him and gave a nod to the agent at the wheel. "Who are you?" Alan asked, obviously taken aback by the proceedings.
Masters flipped open his badge to display his ID. "My name is Bill Masters; I'm with the Pentagon. Mr. Eppes, there's no good way to tell you this, so I'm just going to get to the point. I'm afraid your son Charlie is dead."
He watched as the man beside him turned white and closed his eyes, his face twisting, a hand reaching blindly for the seat in front of him, as if for support. There was no sound, and Masters realized suddenly that Alan wasn't breathing. He'd just reached out a hand to shake him, when Alan suddenly took in a ragged breath, and bowed his head. He was breathing now, his chest rising and falling as if he'd been running, and for a moment, he just sat that way, before lifting his head. Masters felt his gut twist at the agony in the other man's eyes as Alan turned to look at him, and he tried to push down the feelings of remorse. He was getting soft, he thought, time to get out of this business.
"How?" croaked Alan, then he faltered, clearly unable to speak, tears beginning to form in his eyes.
It wasn't going to get any easier, thought Masters, ruefully. "He was stabbed, four days ago. We've been trying to reach you."
"Four days!" Alan exclaimed faintly. "But – why -," he stammered, and then suddenly buried a face now streaming with tears in his hand. "Oh, God."
For a minute, he sat that way, shoulders shaking with silent grief, and Masters let him go until he managed to collect himself enough to blurt out a stream of questions in a shaking voice, "Where is Don? How did this happen? Were they in Washington?"
Masters' voice was quiet. "No, sir. They were back here. They'd been in a minor accident, and came home to recover. It happened at the FBI offices, four nights ago."
Alan stared at him. "Accident! But why didn't they-," he stopped, shook his head as if to clear it. "What happened at the office? Did a crime suspect go berserk – what?"
The agent hesitated, and Alan gripped his arm, his eyes boring into Masters'. "What is it?"
"It was Don," Masters finally said. "He went crazy, and locked them both in a room. He stabbed Charlie several times – Dr. Eppes passed away at the hospital. Don is in custody, awaiting a psychiatric evaluation. I'm sorry."
Alan had frozen, his hand on Master's arm, and Bill Masters, as he looked into the eyes of the older man across from him, suddenly realized that he knew what hell looked like.
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End Chapter 31
A/N: Next up, some Don and Charlie...