Chapter Five

The Man in the Shadows

"Well, Bones, what did you think?"

"I gained very little extra evidence from the other two bodies. There was nothing remarkably different about them. With the lack of significant forensic evidence, I'm not sure what more I can do."

The two were sitting in her apartment. Temperance was playing Blue Oyster Cult on her expensive sound system. Their silvery forks clanked on delicate china plates. They were sharing Chinese food which they scooped out of little boxes made of white cardboard.

"Listen, Bones—This Doctor guy. You met him in some archeological dig?"

"Yes, he showed remarkable aptitude at conjecturing the purposes of some previously unidentified tools."

"But you've never seen his credentials? You don't know where he's from or why he does what he does or any of that?"

"Given his anthropological skills, his biographical details are of little concern to me."

"I don't like it."

"The Pentagon seemed to like him. And the Director of the FBI."

"That doesn't make me feel much better. Skinner may be a great guy, but he's been involved in some pretty weird stuff. Lots of times, when he was Assistant Director, he almost got expelled for ignoring protocol. All these wild cards poking around the Pentagon, it makes me nervous."

"Well, it's none of our concern. We were called in for my expert opinion, and that's all. I'm a little puzzled as to why you were involved at all."

"Yeah, thanks. Probably because I'm your government middle-man."

"Most likely." She placidly ate a forkful of lo mein.

Booth pulled out his phone to check the time. He noticed that he had a missed call. It was from a number he didn't recognize.

"Huh, I got a call. Must have missed it because the music is so loud."

"I think it's just right."

"Yeah, but it made me miss this call. Hang on."

He hit the callback button and waited as the phone rang. After two rings, a low commanding voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Booth here. Who is this?"

"Special Agent Seeley Booth?"

"Yeah. Who is this?"

"I need to speak to you regarding the case you investigated today. You can meet me between the hours of midnight and two a.m. at a restaurant called The Juniper Tree on Fifth."

"What is this? You have a tip, or what?"

Temperance put down her fork and watched Booth.

"You might say that," the voice answered. "Be there." And then the line went dead.

Booth put down the phone and looked at his partner. "Looks like we have a lead. Somebody called about the case."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. Someone who said he had information. What time is it?"

"It's almost eleven now."

"I gotta go. I'm supposed to meet this guy at The Juniper Tree on Fifth before two a.m."

Booth stood up and put on his holster, then concealed it with his coat. He tossed one of the take-out boxes into a trash can and headed for the door.

Temperance said, "Booth, be careful."

Booth smirked, patted the place where his holster was, and said, "Hey! It's me!" Temperance smiled at him. But when he turned to face the door, her smile faded, and so did his.

The Juniper Tree was a small restaurant on a busy part of the street. The only burger it served was a Royale with cheese, which cost $30.00 a la carte. Other items on the menu cost a good deal more. Booth was glad to be wearing his suit.

When he entered, he scanned the room for anyone who seemed to be holding something underneath the table, anyone who was looking at him while whispering to someone else, or any other suspect persons. He saw none. He did notice a black man whose face was concealed behind a newspaper. Since this was the only person in the restaurant who was alone and the only person who was reading a newspaper in a place like this, he thought it likely that this was his informant. He walked over to that table.

He was interrupted by a man in a tuxedo. "Pardon me, sir, if you'll kindly wait to be seated—"

Booth pointed. "I'm with him."

The man turned to look in the direction he was pointing. "Oh, of course. Excuse me. Please continue." He hurried off, probably to find a fine wine for someone.

Booth sat down across the dark shiny wooden table from the man reading the newspaper. The man turned a page. The same commanding voice he had heard over the phone said, "Glad you could make it."

"Would you mind putting that thing down?" Booth asked.

"I haven't finished reading the funnies." The man rustled his paper.

"Okay, sir, you said you had some information about the murder we're investigating."

"Murders, Agent Booth. Three murders in one day, using a weapon unknown to any forensics."

"Maybe so. I guess we won't know until the press releases." Booth was not going to confirm whatever this man had heard, but he was wondering how the man could have found out any details.

"You may as well not try to keep any secrets from me, Agent Booth. I live with secrets."

"That's great. What do you have for me?"

"First, you're going to tell me something. Did you bring any amateur consultants in on this case?"

Booth smirked. "And why would I tell you that? So you can write a front-page article about it? Or take word back to a mob boss or something?"

"I'm not a journalist. And mobs—that's kid stuff."

"Then who are you?"

The man put down his newspaper, to reveal a scarred face with one eye covered by a black patch. "My name is Nicholas Fury. I work for a covert intelligence branch which has jurisdiction over both the CIA and the FBI. Maybe you've heard of us. SHIELD."

"Can't say that I have, and I'm not impressed. Anybody can pretend to be a spy."

"In Koktash. Several years ago. An oil magnate who was a terrorist in his spare time."

The smirk left Booth's face. One of his hands gripped the fork wrapped in a cloth napkin on the table. It looked as if he might snap the fork in half with that single hand.

Fury went on, "I told you, Agent Booth, I deal in secrets every day. Your official tours were not conducted in Kyrgyzstan. Ask yourself. How could I know about that assignment unless I am who I say I am?"

Booth didn't say anything, so Fury kept talking. "I know. You're thinking that doesn't prove that I'm on your side. Maybe this string of murders is being committed by terrorists and I'm one of them. If it helps any, I can show you my badge." He pulled out a very American-looking badge with his name and photo. The main emblem was an eagle surrounded by the words "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division." When Booth still didn't speak, he said, "I can also ask Steve Rogers to confirm who I am."

"Steve Rogers. Captain America? The cryogenically frozen guy?"

"That's him. He's worked for me more than once. Should I call him?"

"No."

"Good, I'm glad that won't be necessary. It's late, and Rogers seems like the type of man to go to bed early."

"What did you need to know? And why are you asking me?"

"Official channels can be unsafe. I wanted to know whether you brought any amateur consultants in on this case."

"Yeah. My partner. Doctor Temperance Brennan."

"Anyone else?"

"A colleague of hers. She vouched for him, and Director Skinner did too."

"Did this colleague have a name?"

"No, he didn't. They called him the Doctor."

"The Doctor. I see."

"Is that who you're interested in? Because I'd like some intel about him, myself."

"Did the Doctor have anyone with him?"

"A woman, some kind of assistant. Rose Tyler. You mind telling me what's going on?"

"If only I could, Agent Booth. National security. You understand."

"Right. Of course."

"I can tell you this much. Tomorrow, I'll send an agent to pick up you and Doctor Brennan. You're unsafe because of what you know. Don't go with the agent until he or she shows you a badge like the one I showed you. You'll learn more once you reach SHIELD headquarters. Is that clear?"

"Wait, wait a second. You're taking us into custody?"

"I'm giving you asylum. If you want to make things easier for me, you can stay at Doctor Brennan's place. Then I can send only one agent to pick up both of you."

"Now, hold on just a minute, buddy. I'm not going anywhere with members of a national spy ring who are involved in a triple homicide."

"I won't force you. You can come with us, or you can stay and get killed. Those are your choices." Fury waited to see Booth's reaction, which was one of incredulous but silent indignation. "Of course, Doctor Brennan's life is in danger too."

"Is that supposed to make me come with you?"

"If you took the chance and stayed, and if she died because of that, you would never forgive yourself. I know. I've had partners before."

Booth squinted as he looked into Fury's single eye. Booth was good at reading people. He knew that the Doctor was hiding a secret purpose with his debonair naivety. And he knew that Fury was hiding purposes below three or four other purposes. He knew that Fury was not ultimately concerned with the safety of one FBI man and one forensic anthropologist. Fury was not even concerned with solving the murder. But Booth didn't care about that. He wasn't here to judge. He wanted to gauge whether Fury could protect him and Bones, and whether Fury would choose to do so.

When Fury mentioned past partners, what appeared to be a look of genuine regret came into his eye. Booth had seen it before. It was the look of someone who knew he had done the right thing but regretted it anyway. Regretted it because of the losses it had caused. Fury was not a man to spend lives cheaply.

"Where will you take us?" Booth asked.

"Somewhere safe."

"For how long?"

"Until this matter has been cleared up."

"Fine." Booth leaned in. "But if anything, I mean anything happens to Doctor Brennan, you'll answer to me."

Fury was not impressed. "I assure you, we'll do everything we can to protect her."

"You'd better, pal."

Booth stood up and walked toward the door. Before he reached it, it opened and two men walked in. One was a slight man in a jacket, the other a tall man in a black trench coat. He scanned them, looking for odd bulges. Fury had him spooked.

He felt his suspicions justified when the men walked toward Fury. The tall man sat down where Booth had been sitting. The other man, with a look of irritation, pulled up another chair. Booth decided to hang back by the door to see what happened. He found a seat, evidently for customers to sit while they waited for a table. He sat down.

The two newcomers began discussing with Fury in quiet voices. Booth had fairly good hearing, but he couldn't catch anything. The tall dark man was talking in a deep voice, and talking very quickly. Fury reached under the table and withdrew some file folders. He passed them to the tall man, who opened one and rapidly shuffled through the pages.

At Fury's table, Sherlock Holmes absorbed the information on the pages almost as soon as he saw them.

Fury said, "I'm sure your brother told you that this is a matter of international security. Every living being is threatened by this."

"Mm, right, thank you," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock, at least pretend that you care," said John.

"It's fine, Doctor Watson," Fury said. "I'm not interested in Mister Holmes's virtues or vices. As long as he can help us locate the killer. That's all I need."

Meanwhile, Booth was still watching them. He also checked the other diners, looking for anyone acting too casual. A neatly dressed woman with blond hair sat down by him. She smiled in a friendly way.

"Hallo," she said in a British accent.

Booth nodded. "Hey. Are you, uh, by yourself?"

"Oh, yes. But don't worry, I'm a big girl. My name is Julia. Julia Potter."

"Seeley Booth. Nice to meet you."

"Seeley Booth. Is that a common American name? Please do forgive my ignorance." She laughed a little.

"No trouble. And it's not exactly common. Actually, I don't like it."

"Oh, I think it rather suits you. You look like a Guardian."

"A what?"

"It's part of the Keirsey Temperament Sorter. It's what you could call a personality test. I would guess that you are a Protector Guardian. Are you a policeman, social worker?"

Booth smiled. "FBI."

"Ah, there, you see? Did you serve in the military also, Mr. Booth?"

"Yeah, yeah I did."

"A paradigm case of Protector Guardian. Concerned with the safety of others, protecting the downtrodden. Plato also would have put you in charge of the military of his perfect city."

"And what's your personality?"

"Me? Oh, I'm a Crafter Artisan. I use tools and get things done. Think on my feet."

Booth leaned in and whispered, "Is that why you're trying to distract me from that table?"

"Yes, that's exactly it," she whispered back.

"What's your real name?"

"Mary Watson. And yours?"

"Seeley Booth."

"Honest soul."

"No, I just know that I'm on Nick Fury's side too. You missed it, but I was talking to him just before you people came in."

"Ah, I see." Mary relaxed considerably, although she kept an eye on the place where his holster was.

Booth waited for more, and when she didn't say more, he said, "You're much less talkative when you're not trying to keep my attention."

She winked at him but didn't speak.

"So did you come all the way from England to talk to Nick Fury, or are you a resident alien?"

"I'm afraid there's very little I can tell you. You understand."

"You know that's funny, Fury said pretty much the same thing. I want to know how I can be involved in this and still not know anything."

"I can't help you with that. I only just got involved myself."

"But you're under quarantine too?"

"Oh, yes. Once we've left this place, we'll be taken to a safe house. The same for you?"

"Yeah. This is just great."

"Don't worry, Agent Booth. Nicholas Fury is dishonest, but he can be trusted."

"Ha, that's one heck of a reassurance."

"I've worked with him before. I used to be an assassin. Please don't tell anyone that, I'm trying to start over."

"You're secret's safe with me."

She looked at him again and smiled. "I'm sure. I like you, Agent Booth. Which is good, since we'll be seeing quite a lot of each other. I suggest you go home and prepare for the safe house. There's lots to be done after that."