The day had been a relatively routine one. Brody had reviewed all of the crime scene reports whilst Camile had gone back to the factory to interview people. He had checked all the data and tomorrow he would go visit all the crime scenes and set up a meeting with the fire investigator Lisa Park. The data on the scenes seemed very complete, she appeared to have done a pretty good job, although he wouldn't know until he got there.

He had had one phone call of the day to make, in the afternoon a twenty minute discussion about the machine that had exploded with Dr Dale Volker from the Icarus plant, but this had only confirmed the existing findings and didn't seem to shed any new light on the matter.

He was beginning to think he wasn't really massively necessary on this trip. The local departments seemed to have been doing a pretty good job as far as the scenes went. He suspected it would come down to Camile's skill at investigation and profiling in the final analysis. However, you couldn't leave something like that to chance.

Young had worked in the office all morning, then apologising for his absence had gone out on more routine business in the afternoon. He worked through until Camile came back to the office at about five pm.

Camile looked tired not unexpected after a day of interviews, and looked up gratefully as Becky brought over a tray of coffee and cookies. Becky grinned and wandered back to the desk, leaving them some privacy. Camile sipped at the coffee and demolished three cookies before sitting back and filling him in on the interviews. She had finished up the interview with Miss Armstrong, finding nothing else of particular interest except the fact that her mother had been in a particularly fragile state since her father's death. Miss Armstrong had explained their relationship with suppliers and buyers, mainly the military and various law enforcement agencies, including the FBI.

Eli Wallace had been an interesting interview, Camile told him, finishing up the coffee and taking another cookie. He had been employed by Armstrong senior after the company his father had part owned had gone bust and his father had committed suicide. Eli had been forced to drop out of MIT and things had been very hard for him particularly as his mother was unwell with some unspecified but evidently dangerous condition. Armstrong had offered him a job with full benefits for him and his family. Camile had thought Wallace very genuine and Brody offered his corresponding opinion. The young man had seemed pretty transparent the previous day and had seemed genuinely upset about the accident. Still, his father's death did give him a significant motive.

Greer had not been an easy interview apparently, he'd not been happy about being questioned, but had offered similar testimony to Wallace and Miss Armstrong. Despite the fact he had discussed the whole of the incident with Camile she was of the opinion that he was hiding something. He had not been particularly forthcoming about his life outside of work and was cagey when asked about his opinions on Telford, Wallace, Rush and Miss Armstrong.

Camile's last interview had been Doctor Damji. Sonia Damji had been very focussed and almost clinical throughout the interview, talking about the blast and the accident in a very practical and unemotional manner. Brody nodded and offered that she was an explosions expert, maybe it was a coping mechanism?

The only person Camile had not been able to interview was Doctor Rush, who whilst he had been around in the morning, had been conveniently unavailable in the afternoon. Miss Armstrong had apparently assured Camile that Doctor Rush would make himself available for interview when she returned to talk to David Telford and Doctor Volker who had also been off site. Camile wasn't sure.

"I'm going back to the hotel." Said Camile. "I'm planning a pizza, a long bath and an early night."

Brody turned the idea over in his head.

"I think I'll try the bar." He said. "Maybe get a feel for the town. See if anyone has any local gossip."

Camile nodded. "Guy talk." She said, smiling. "The fact the game's on wouldn't affect that would it?"

Brody grinned. "It's always a good point to start a conversation. Don't work too hard."

He knew that the pizza and the early night would mean two hours reading notes and files.

Brody walked into the bar. It was early and still quiet, there was a young man behind the bar polishing glasses and putting them on a shelf behind the counter, an older couple sitting in a booth eating and Doctor Rush sitting at the bar, a drink in front of him. Brody walked towards the bar and the young man put down the cloth and walked over.

"Hi, you must be the FBI guy."

Brody nodded.

"Brody." He introduced himself.

"I'm Becker." Said the young man.

"You made our sandwiches yesterday morning." Brody said.

Becker laughed.

"Not me, my older sister, but my business yeah. The deli next door's mine too."

Brody looked impressed. "Doing well for yourself." He complimented.

Becker grinned. "I like food, I like feeding people. Made sense to make it my business." He gestured at the bar. "Can I get you something or is this business?"

Brody took a seat at the bar, leaving a single stool between him and Rush.

"I'll have a drink." He said.

Rush looked over at him and Brody ducked his head uncomfortably, the man's glower was practically flammable.

"Agent Brody." Rush said.

Brody nodded. "Just Brody, or Adam when I'm not working." He said.

"Get him a drink." Rush said to Becker.

Becker raised an eyebrow in enquiry and Rush made a vague gesture at his own glass. Becker turned, poured something into a tumbler, Brody couldn't see what, and put it down neat in front of Brody. There was a distinct smell of whisky. Brody picked it up cautiously and took a sip. It was strong and tasted smoky, expensive and very strong.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Laphroaig." Rush said shortly. "Single malt."

Becker laughed as Brody took another small sip.

"Forty eight percent alcohol," He warned, "watch yourself."

Brody looked at Rush. He didn't look drunk, but there was a slight glassy edge to his eyes that suggested he'd had more than one drink.

"You eating?" asked Becker. "Just if you want anything that's not burger and chips, sandwiches or the special if we've any left, then ask me now before I let my sister go home to her no good husband and kids."

Rush snorted, Becker grinned.

"What?" asked Brody.

"You spoke to him this afternoon." Rush told him. "Volker."

Brody realised there must be some sort of joke here he didn't understand as the mild mannered and highly qualified scientist he'd met earlier didn't appear to meet any criteria that would fit the definition of no good husband.

"I've never seen a man more henpecked." Said Becker. "Anyways, do you want dinner?"

"What's the special?" Brody asked.

"Chicken casserole with fresh bread."

"I'll have that."

Becker disappeared off out back and Brody sat with the scientist sipping at his drink.

"What's your qualification." Asked Rush finally.

"Engineering originally." Brody said.

This elicited another snort from Rush.

"I got involved in dealing with the structural impact of fires and explosions, kind of accidentally," Brody continued, "got into research on fire and bomb damage about fifteen years back, then on analysis of evidence from buildings and structures at crime scenes of terrorist and arson attacks. I now consult for the FBI on fires and explosions."

The research background seemed to mollify the scientist a little. Brody wasn't quite sure why he felt he wanted the man's approval, but squashed the idea ruthlessly.

"Sonja Damji's our explosives researcher." Rush said after a moment. "Works a lot with Greer. He's meant to be one of the security, but he's an ex-marine, fired things and blew things up for a living. We keep stealing him for the lab and the test site. Pisses Telford off no end."

Rush laughed nastily and Brody had the distinct impression that pissing off Telford was one of the high points of Rush's life. Rush drained the last of his glass and as Becker came out, gestured for another. Becker put the plate of food he was carrying down on the bar.

"You want it at a table?" he asked Brody.

"No," Brody demurred, "here is fine if you don't mind."

"No problem." Becker grinned and walked off to collect the plates of the elderly couple.

Rush got up, walked round the bar, poured another glass of whisky, and waved the bottle at Brody. Brody shook his head, indicating his half full glass, he raised an eyebrow at Rush.

"My bottle." Rush said, coming back round the bar and sitting down.

They sat in vaguely companionable silence as Brody ate the extremely good casserole. Becker returned and walked past them into the kitchen with empty plates. Another couple of customers, a man and a woman came in and sat in a booth. Becker appeared from the kitchen and went out to serve them, taking over drinks and nipping a food order back to the kitchen. A very tall and extremely pretty woman maybe a little older than Becker with cornrows dropping into long beaded plaits, walked out from the back with a plate in her hand. She scanned along the bar, spotted Rush and walked up to him. She put the plate down in front of him.

"Eat Doctor." She ordered.

He looked up at her and scowled at her, then down at the sandwiches in front of him.

"That is not negotiable." She said firmly. "You eat your sandwiches."

There was a moment of tension as she stared him down, then he caved and picked up a sandwich. Becker smiled.

"Leah always wins." He murmured. "Bacon sandwiches get him every time."

"Does he drink like this often?"

Becker shook his head. "Not usually. He's had a pretty rough time recently, what with everything that happened up at the plant and the fires."

"He knew some of the victims?" Brody asked quietly, taking a sip of whisky.

Becker leaned in to talk to him, but Rush seemed to be oblivious, steadily munching his way through the sandwiches.

"Who doesn't?" Becker asked. "He worked with Dr Caine for several years, everyone knew David Walters, he's been the only lawyer in town for years, it's a small town. The Baras's were well known, they owned the apartment he rents, and to be honest the apartments that half the staff at Icarus rent, if they're out of towners."

Becker stood and took Brody's plate, stepping back.

"Casserole good?"

"Excellent." Said Brody. "You cook a good casserole."

Becker grinned and took the plate out back. A few more customers came in and Becker bustled round, serving drinks and food. His sister stopped to serve a few more meals then wrapped herself in a thick parka and with a wave and a smile at Brody and Doctor Rush left. Brody nursed his drink, keeping an eye on the game playing silently on the TV. Next to him Rush finished his drink and poured himself another whilst Becker was busy with other customers. This one disappeared in a reasonably short amount of time and Becker poured Rush another one at his request. Brody wondered if Becker knew how much Rush had actually had to drink.

He sparked up a conversation about the game with a young man who sat down next to him, apparently called Riley, but before he could move the conversation on any further the man's friends arrived and spirited him off. Brody turned back to the bar. Rush was still there and his glass was full again. Brody watched the man as he stolidly worked his way down the glass. The man was putting some serious effort into getting drunk. Even Becker noticed his state when he next came back up the bar.

"I think you've had enough now." He said to Rush.

Rush scowled at him, but slid off his stool, grabbing the bar and swaying slightly. Becker looked at him.

"Are you gonna be alright?" he asked the drunken man.

"I'll be fine." Rush said.

He wasn't slurring but his accent had thickened. Brody looked towards the front of the bar and the windows out onto the street. Snow was coming down in sheets. Becker followed his gaze. They both looked at Rush who didn't appear to have any coat except his brown jacket.

"Look…" said Becker.

"I'll be jest fine." Repeated Rush sharply.

"Where're you going?" asked Brody.

Rush glared at him, but the slight sway took the edge from his aggression. Brody handed Becker enough money to cover his meal and drink and gestured at the tips jor for the change.

"He's in the apartment block two blocks down." Becker said. "It's on the way to the motel. Two hundred and seven."

Brody looked at the scientist.

"Come on, I'll give you a lift. It's nasty out there."

Rush didn't seem inclined to move, but Brody stuck his arm under Rush's and the man appeared to decide coming along was the easy option. Brody shepherded him out and got him into the passenger seat of the rental car. Rush fumbled and managed to buckle himself in, but as Brody pulled out of the car park seemed to fall asleep. The snow was still falling heavily and Brody had to drive slowly, not only because of the conditions, but in order to ensure he actually saw the apartment block. Rush drowsed in the passenger seat, occasionally snoring quietly. Peering through the driving snow, Brody eventually spotted what looked to be a four storey block of apartments, set a little back off the road. He reached over and gently shook the sleeping scientist.

"Is this it?" He asked.

Rush struggled to sit up straight, looking confused as to where he was. He blinked at Brody in confusion before comprehension dawned.

"Agent…"

"Is this your place?" Brody repeated. Rush squinted out the car window.

"Aye."

He struggled to undo his seatbelt, fumbling ineffectually with the buckle until he finally got it loose.

"Do you need a hand in?" Brody asked cautiously.

He didn't think the scientist was a man who accept help graciously.

"Of course not." Snapped the other man.

Brody got out of the car and walked round to the other door. Despite the fact that it had been cleared out here when he had driven past earlier, there was already two inches of snow around his feet. He opened the door for the other man, then turned to look at the apartment block, shielding his eyes with his hand from the snow. At almost ten o'clock at night some of the windows were already dark, but as his eyes scanned the windows, he could see some people were still up, some windows still lit. His eyes settled on a window. Warm flickering light. Orange and yellow. He turned back to Rush.

"Your keys!"

"What?"

"Give me your keys and get back in the car."

Rush gave him an angry look. There was a crash and a whumpfing noise and the flames hissed out into the snowy night.