11 – CHAPTER ELEVEN – 1.243^11

"Don?"

Don startled. Somebody had called his name and it wasn't hard to recognize the voice. "I'm here!" he called as an answer.

"Where?"

"Here!"

Charlie followed the calls and had soon discovered his brother again. Don breathed a sigh of relief when he caught a glance of his brother through the trees and shrubs.

"Where've you been?" he asked him with a trace of anger that overrode his previous worry.

"Getting this stuff." Charlie pointed at a hodgepodge of parts of various plants, two short, even sticks, some climbing plants and a strange plantlet with purple blooms.

"What's all this?" Don eyed Charlie's harvest critically.

"Your bandage. The purple stuff is comfrey, I was certain I'd seen it earlier, just after the junction before the latest one. Comfrey helps with sprains. Actually, you're supposed to boil it in water and let it steep for a while, but I guess it'll be effective all the same." Don stared at Charlie, his eyes huge, but his brother didn't let it distract him. "Just hold your foot still. Like that." And then Charlie began to lay the comfrey carefully around Don's ankle. He laid some leaves around it as a pad, stabilized the foot with the two sticks and fixed everything with the climbing plants. In no time at all, the makeshift bandage was done.

"Okay… now try to put some weight on the foot… but only very slightly!" Charlie admonished him.

Cautiously, Don followed the order. The ankle was painful and felt weak, but it was by far less than a few minutes previously.

"How come you can do such things?" Don asked his little brother in complete bewilderment.

"I did an advanced First-Aid-course, once."

"And when, if I may ask?" Don couldn't remember a bit of it.

"Shortly before mom became ill," Charlie explained, and all of a sudden Don could understand his ignorance of Charlie's knowledge. Back then, their relationship had been tense, putting it mildly – if you could even call it a relationship.

"And there you learn these things?" he asked so that he didn't have to think of the bad memories of that difficult time in their lives.

"We all thought it was quite farfetched then, to talk about herbal medicine, but I'm not going to deny that it was useful," Charlie responded with a trace of his old, easygoing smile. Don looked at him, looked into the familiar face, and suddenly the world was good again. What could happen to him, after all, as long as they were together? Everything was all right! Despite all their tribulations, the whole situation still had something good about it: the strong connection between his brother and him was fixed again and as strong as ever before.

"What's up?" Charlie wanted to know confused, noticing that Don was silently staring at him.

"Please remind me that I have something to do in the bureau break room when we're back."

"Oooookaaaay," Charlie answered slowly, waiting for an explanation. It failed to appear. Instead, Don tried to come onto his feet again, and Charlie realized that just now his priority wasn't in the satisfaction of his curiosity, but in the supply of a supporting hold for his brother.

On all fours (or at least on three of them) Don climbed up the hill with Charlie's help. Charlie supported him up to the summit. Indeed, they certainly didn't move as quickly as before Don's crash, but he also didn't expect to be able to be on his feet with this ankle.

Now, the track was leading them steadily downwards. They reached three further crossings they'd never seen before. And then – finally! – their eyes discovered what they would have not considered possible anymore – a house!

Granted, it was rather a cabin, but at least this building was bigger than their former prison.

When they exited the woods they could hardly believe their luck. Not only did they see this one house enthroned above a valley like the press cabin of a baseball pitch, but in the valley itself, there were many other little houses. They'd actually found a real little village up here in the mountains!

Devoutly, they stood for a moment, savoring the pleasure of looking down to the piece of civilization they'd discovered.

"We've made it!" Charlie cheered, looking at his brother, beaming with joy. "We've really made it!"

"I never doubted your math, buddy," Don answered, grinning broadly.

"FBI, special agent David Sinclair," David answered his cell.

"Hey, David. You're on call?" For some seconds, David wasn't able to move. "Hey David, you still there?"

"DON!" David finally shouted, and on the other side of the connection, the man being screamed at held the receiver half a metre away from his badly affected ear. "Is it really you?"

"Of course, who else? The governor or what?"

"It's Don!" staring at the phone David called towards the men and women around him forgetting for a second that he'd called out his SAC's name like some lovesick teenager shouting out to her favorite pop star. "Where are you? What about Charlie?" David asked more calmly.

"Standing next to me."

David couldn't speak. They were alive, both of them. For some instants he didn't know what to say; then all his questions wanted to tumble out of his mouth at the same time. "Where are you? Are you hurt? How are you? Do you need an ambulance?"

"Calm down, David," Don soothed him, grinning. "We're fine. We're in a little house whose gentle owner kindly let us use his telephone, in a village called –"

He hesitated and looked questioningly at the homeowner who said eagerly, "Little Ottery."

"Little Ottery," Don repeated into the receiver. "That's in the mountains. We were in a cabin –"

"We know," David interrupted him. "That's where we are just now. We've searched the whole area in a five-mile perimeter around for you, but didn't find you. To be honest, we didn't find anyone up here." Suddenly, David grinned; he just couldn't help it. "Let me guess, we can send back the chopper we ordered before it even gets here, right?"

"You've hit the mark there," Don confirmed, and went on jokingly, "Whoa, a chopper. That sounds as if it was becoming a real S&R operation. Charlie and I should feel so honoured!"

"Yeah, you should," David laughed into the receiver, then became serious again. "We'll pick you up right away while the other agents stay here to save evidence, okay? Shouldn't take us long. We'd passed the village on the way up here about fifty or so minutes ago."

"Okay, we'll wait in the main street above this little valley. Oh and, David?"

"Yes?"

"Er… How's our dad?"

David paused. "He's taking it quite well, I think. Worried, of course."

"He wasn't hurt when they assaulted us?"

"No, not badly at least."

Don sighed in relief. "Okay… well, could you maybe inform him that we've found each other and that we're fine?"

"'Course, gonna do it. See you, Don! And say hello to Charlie for me!" With that, the conversation was finished.

Fifty-five minutes after their phone call, David and Colby saw two figures sitting in the evening sun on the street in front of a little, white house. Charlie helped Don stand as they saw the vehicle and recognised the two agents in it.

"There they are!" David called from the passenger's seat, laughing hilariously. "Heavens, they really need a shower badly."

Colby, grinning broadly as well, stopped the car and they both got out.

"You two know how to give us guys a hard time!" Colby scolded jokingly while they clasped each other's shoulders. Then the two federal agents looked at the brothers with slightly worried features.

"Is really everything alright with you?" David inquired, his gaze wandering from Charlie's split upper lip, over the unsightly bruise at his temple and then down to the strange tangle around Don's foot.

"Someone should look after Don's ankle," Charlie answered before Don could even open his mouth. "Seems to be sprained."

"Come on, don't cause undue alarm," Don objected, but his protest was swept away.

While the four of them were driving to the hospital, they gave each other their latest news.

"We've informed Alan. You can imagine that he's quite relieved. Do you want to call him and tell him that we're on our way to the hospital?" Colby offered, who had again taken the seat behind the wheel.

Don, on the passenger's seat, answered immediately, "No way. Not until he can see for himself that we won't be dropping dead in the next instant."

Despite their recent escape from danger, this comment forced a smile on all of their faces. David however thought that Don wasn't that wrong about it. When he'd informed Alan that they'd found his sons, it had sounded on the phone as if Alan was almost having a heart attack.

"How is he, actually?" Charlie wanted to know, a bit tentatively.

"I think he coped fairly well with it," David appeased them. His and Colby's irritation due to Charlie's behaviour a few days before was already completely forgotten. "I figure as soon as he sees that you're relatively well, he'll also be in top form."

The reassuring smile didn't reach David's eyes. The trauma that Don and Charlie's father had gone through during the last few days had been very evident during the phone call he'd received just after the assault.

"FBI, you're talking to Special Agent David Sinclair."

"This is Alan… Eppes."

"Oh, good evening, Alan. Don's not here. He just wanted to stop by at Charlie's. Indeed, he'd have to…"

David looked at his watch, though was interrupted. "Yes, he was here. That's the reason. It's this… he… we… we've been assaulted."

"Assaulted? What do you mean?"

Alan swallowed. "Don and Charlie, they… they're not here anymore."

David hesitated. He'd knitted his brows. Now he was concentrating he could hear the slight tremble in Alan's voice. "What do you mean?"

"These guys knocked me down. And when I awoke, they were both gone. They are… I believe they've been kidnapped."

David couldn't believe the story he was listening to. "Did I understand you properly, Alan? Don and Charlie have been kidnapped?" he verified.

"Yes."

What 'yes'? How 'yes'?

David didn't know what to do. "By whom?" he finally asked.

"I don't know who. These men just knocked at the door and asked for the two of them and then they suddenly drew their weapons… I couldn't protect them! I just… got them completely trapped. If something… if they…"

"Please calm down, Alan," David talked at him insistently, his voice strangely hollow while his mind was working fast. Wasn't there some kind of codex for such cases? "We'll do anything that's within our strength to get them back unharmed." Hopefully that will be enough, David thought silently and swallowed. "We're on our way. Do you need an ambulance?"

"No, no. I'm all right. Just get here quick as you can."

"Okay… but now do tell," Don demanded, "you were at the cabin?"

A short moment of hesitation, then David was back in the present. "Yes," he reported. "We caught one of the mobsters, or better the LAPD caught him. A guy called Victor Budanov. They'd arrested him because of drug dealings and had found out that he seemed to have something to do with the Russian Mob. Appears that he was just some kind of muscle, though he did know about the cabin you were probably held in. He must've spilled the beans to the LAPD somehow. We had to push him a bit, but eventually he told us everything. However, we couldn't prove anything else than this drug issue, and so he was released out on bail. Well, anyway, we drove to the cabin, but then realised that it was empty. We first thought Budanov had conned us, but finally we found the dungeon in the cellar. No trace of you though. Therefore, we started the search operation. That was yesterday in the evening."

"You really could have stayed put for a few more hours," Colby uttered dryly. The conversation with Alan Eppes after they'd found the cabin was still on his mind.

"Colby?" Alan confirmed as soon as he'd picked up the receiver after the first ring.

"Yes, Mr. Eppes." Colby had promised Alan to keep him updated. He soon had regretted this decision for they were advancing much too slowly. Though now they'd at least a hint that the two brothers, in spite of everything, were still alive.

"Have you found them?"

Alan had asked this question every time they'd called him. And every time until now he'd received the same answer.

"No, not yet, Alan, I'm sorry." Colby could hear Alan sigh at the other end, and went on. "But we've probably found the room they'd been held in. They're not there anymore, but we assume that they'd been able to escape. On the wall, we found signs and formulas that are very likely to be by Charlie. We're not quite sure what they mean, but maybe it's to do with the fire that had taken place in the room. It looks as if the fire had been deliberately set."

Alan was silent, and Colby wondered what to do. He could imagine Alan standing at the dark window, staring at the rain outside, wondering where his sons were. Maybe he should have given him the information personally? But it was nearly three hours to Pasadena, and he'd wanted to stay with David and the other agents, at the cabin. Just in case.

"There was a fire in the room they'd been held in?"

Colby heard Alan's voice tremble, and he answered quickly: "Yes, but we're pretty sure they got out in time. Otherwise we would have found their… otherwise we would have already found them."

Respect for Alan wasn't the only reason for Colby's change in his choice of words. For he knew his gag reflex would engage as soon as he verbalized the word 'bodies' while seeing inevitably Don's and Charlie's dead figures in his mind's eye.

"Up there, turn left, Colby," David suddenly uttered from the backseat, and the steering wheel was pulled around as Colby was pulled out of his thoughts.

Don laughed briefly. When they all looked at him in surprise, he asked his two team members, though his words were more directed towards Charlie, "You're sure you don't want to put some little sticks in the ground at the crossroads?"

Colby glanced over his shoulder at David, one of his eyebrows raised, but Charlie was grinning. "It also works with road signs."

"You sure you're okay?" Colby pressed, only half jokingly.

"Colby," Don admonished him playfully, sounding like a schoolmaster from the nineteenth century. "Now you're disappointing me. You've really never heard of… Charles Terry and Pierre Trémaux before?"

"Uh – no. You, David?"

"I don't think they're on my Christmas card list."

"I don't think they're on anyone's list," Charlie uttered. "For I've never heard of those two guys, either. I've only heard of Charles Pierre Trémaux and Gaston Tarry."

Don's grin broadened. He leaned back in his seat, laid his head backwards, and closed his eyes. If it wasn't for the worry for their father, they could drive like this forever as far as he was concerned. "Why, I'm glad I'm not one of your students," he said to his brother good-naturedly. "You're worse than my old class teacher."

Charlie was grinning, too, and he also leaned back in his seat. They were going home.

0 – 0 – 0

When the two Americans with Russian origin had got back to the cabin, they hadn't at first sensed something was wrong. It hadn't taken them long, though, until they'd found their confederate in the dungeon.

Reports had been exchanged and eventually brought to their boss. Even if they were hardened criminals, their boss' fury was something to be avoided at all costs, even if they didn't let it show.

In a complete hurry, the base had been cleared, and a few hours later, they – from a secure hiding-place – had seen patrol cars driving into the mountains. That had been close. Maybe they had underestimated the opponent, had taken on an agency that was too well organized?

It was of no use; the cornerstone had been laid, the sides clearly demarcated, and the game had begun. And they would play until they reached their aim. And after this first reversal, they would play more mercilessly than ever.