FIC: In the Arms of the Wicked, Part 6 (Ian/OMC, Don, Charlie, McGowan, PG-13)
Title: "The Perfect Coverage"
Series: In the Arms of the Wicked, Part 6/?
Characters: Ian/OMC, Don, Charlie, Carl McGowan.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: Season 5.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Ian discovers a couple of things about Dr. Farrow while visiting his house.
Feedback: C'mon, a penny for your thoughts. *g*
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (characters, situations, etcetera) except my OCs.
Beta: The fantastic twins_m0m.
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Part 6: "The Perfect Coverage"
It was 5.55 am when Don entered the FBI building. He felt tired, since he had spent the night thinking about how to help his team. Colby and Larry had gone home a while after Ian had left. Charlie had decided to go out for a walk and returned at midnight only to remain silent and sleepless, just like his brother. Still, Don hadn’t come to any useful conclusions. It seemed that there was no way out of this one - Carl was tough but fair and he would eventually manage to get to the truth.
As he walked towards Agent McGowan’s office, he tried to control his heart beats. His pulse was a little bit too accelerated and if Carl saw he was nervous, it would somehow compromise him. When he got to his door, Don watched him talking over the phone with his usual calm yet focused face, writing down some data, and sometimes looking for a particular file. He had to be extremely careful or life as he knew it would become a living hell. He took a deep breath and respectfully knocked on the door. Carl looked up from his papers and gestured him to come in as he kept talking on the phone.
“Hey, Carl. I’m here as arranged…”
Done stopped talking when McGowan gestured him to stop. He was about to leave and wait outside just in case the phone call was classified, but soon Carl’s voice came up.
“Don, we’re going to reschedule. Come back in an hour.”
There were no excuses, no explanations, but Carl didn’t really have to say anything to make people do as he told them. Feeling a little bit discouraged, Don nodded and walked out of the room. At least he’d get a few more minutes to find good answers to give to particular questions and calm down his nerves a little bit. He walked back toward his desk, and somehow ended up at the break room, watching the way coffee was poured into the pot by the coffee machine. Something ordinary like that felt so safe right now, and it helped clear his mind.
“Are you OK?” someone asked him, interrupting his train of thought. When Don turned around, he found Charlie entering the break room.
“Yeah, buddy. It’s just that this interview with Carl… I don’t think it’s going to go well.”
Charlie approached him and stood beside him. “Hey, this is not your duty, Don… It is all about anyone but you. You shouldn’t try to…”
“Try what? To protect my team?” As Charlie didn’t say a word, Don took the coffee pot out of the machine and started pouring some of the steaming liquid into a cup. “You and everyone else aren’t only the people I work with, you’re friends and family. I can’t help worrying about you and wanting to keep you safe. It’s my job, it’s the way things are.”
“I know,” his brother responded. “Just… don’t try so hard. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of us.”
It was nice to hear that Charlie was worrying about Don. “Thanks, Charlie. I’ll see what I can do.”
There was a moment of silence, then Charlie spoke again. “What about Dr. Farrow?”
“Ah… Ian is supposed to try to bring him to the office today so we can speed things up a bit. There’s more data on the way here; it should arrive in less than an hour.”
“Good. Do you think Ian will be able to convince him?”
Doubtful, Don shook his head. “I have no idea.”
XxX
Millionaires’ houses should look like palaces or, at least, mansions. Farrow’s didn’t. It was an old, nice building of simple construction, out of town; a peculiar, silent, unique piece of land where no one famous seemed to possibly live. It seemed to be a perfect place for little kids to ride their bicycles as they carried candy in their tiny baskets. Too much like a dream, too different from what Dr. Farrow meant to the world. But it was still LA all around, no matter how much it looked like a disturbing, private mirage.
The perfect coverage for a shallow kind of life. The rings of his cell phone caught Ian’s attention as he walked towards the big but coarse house. “Yeah, Don,” he said before passing by a rubber tree with blooming white flowers and an old Chevrolet parked on the driveway. “New data? That’s OK, I’m on my way to Farrow’s door. You can be sure he’ll be there this morning. What about McGowan?” When Don informed Ian that their meeting had been rescheduled, the sniper responded, “Let’s hope that doesn’t mean something bad happened.”
He closed his phone and finally stood at Farrow’s door. He rang the bell and waited, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by the sudden change of air. Nature all around him was way different than the environment he was used to - downtown, large buildings, smog, car horns, chaos and crime.
December of 2006. Louis Terrence is found dead down the stairs in the property of Dr. Christopher Farrow at 20.17 pm. One bullet into the heart, another one into the head. Farrow is found inside the kitchen cabinet holding an empty gun. Ballistic analysis determines he wasn’t the one who shot Louis. But still…
There was the sound of someone using a key on the other side of the door. Ian assumed he would be welcomed by a butler or a housekeeper. He frowned behind his sunglasses when someone else appeared in front of his eyes.
“Ah,” was the only thing the doctor said when he opened the door. “Agent Edgerton.” His face looked slightly pleased, as if he had known that Ian would come to see him. Then he asked the sniper to come in.
Once Ian was inside the house, he took a quick look at the place. The entry opened into a giant, tidy library. There were open books everywhere he looked, and a big desk at the end of the room. He could see a laptop, three cell phones and a cup of coffee on the desk, along with some more books. It seemed as if Farrow had been working late that day. When Ian turned to face the archeologist again, he took off his sunglasses and analyzed the other man’s clothes. He assumed that he was about to take a shower, as Farrow was wearing jogging pants and a tank top. Strangely, he looked just like any other person in the world, not the annoying celebrity he actually was.
A man dressed completely in white with casual clothes came into the room and asked, “Christopher? I was about to open the door for you…”
So he’s your employee? Ian wondered why things were so weird in that house.
“It’s OK, Sergio, it’s just the FBI.”
“Just the FBI.” Yeah, right. As the man known as “Sergio” left the room, Ian said, “Your butler?”
“Yes,” Dr. Farrow stated. “I like my people to feel at home when they’re around me. I only give jobs to the ones I trust the most, the ones I have a bond with. As much of a cliché as it sounds, being me is not easy.” Then he walked over to his desk, where he started reading his books. “I assume you’re here because of the case.”
“Of course.”
A confident smile spread across Farrow’s lips. “I told you you’d be back.”
“This is duty,” Ian snapped. “We need you to come with me to the FBI. We’re getting more information in a few hours and we wanted you t-”
“No.”
Ian took a deep breath; he didn’t like being turned down. “That’s not a smart decision.”
“I’m fine with it.”
As Dr. Farrow kept flipping the pages of his books, Ian walked around the room. If the man liked to provoke, then he’d go with it. Maybe a game would be the key. “You’re going to stay here while these guys steal the pieces you’ve studied for years?”
“Yes. I’ve got everything I want here. My books, my research, my coffee. Why would I want to collaborate?”
Strangely, Ian could swear that he had heard Farrow whispering, “The working atmosphere is not pleasant anyway” after his last words. Yet, the sniper stated, “You’re a fraud.”
He suddenly heard Dr. Farrow’s laugh. “That kind of reverse psychology is not going to work.”
“Really?”
The way Ian said it - roughly, seriously - seemed to catch the archeologist’s attention. Dr. Farrow took his eyes off the books and stared at the sniper. Ian looked back, as ever as stoic.
The book he was holding was closed in a second. “Let me take a quick shower.”
Finally, convincing him hadn’t turned out to be so hard. “Okay,” Ian quietly answered. The tone of their conversation had changed so much since the moment they had met the day before. Maybe it was because this was Farrow’s territory, or because they were alone in that strange land, but something was different. Of course, Ian still considered the other man to be annoying, but as long as he cooperated with the case...
As Dr. Farrow took his shower, Ian continued studying the little details of the room he was in. The window behind the desk was open, its curtains slowly moving with the soft wind. But what really caught his attention were the frames that hanged from the creamy walls. They framed the pictures of the most exquisite horses - a fine, black and white Gypsy Vanner, a beautiful bay Arabian and a stunning black Friesian.
All of a sudden, a memory passed by filling Ian’s heart with sorrow and melancholy. He could smell the grass that naturally grew in Marah’s land; he could see the way she groomed her horses, the way she positioned the saddle pats and the saddles themselves on their backs. He could even visualize the way she talked to them as if they could understand her words.
“Do you like horses?” Dr. Farrow’s voice suddenly stopped the flow of memories. Ian noticed that he was wearing a casual shirt and formal pants. The image managed to disturb him somehow, so he didn’t answer and waited for the other man to continue. “I do. Those are from my house in Arizona. I’m trying to understand the ancient cultures’ veneration towards these animals, and I have to admit that they are quiet fascinating.”
“Do you have everything you need?” After the little flashes of the past, Ian wasn’t in the mood to keep talking about horses, no matter how much he felt dragged into their beauty.
“Yes.” The other man pointed at the suitcase and the extra bag he was carrying.
“Then let’s go.”
“Sergio, I’m leaving!”
“Okay!”
With the sound of Sergio doing the laundry in a distant room, Ian and Dr. Farrow went towards the door. But before opening it, the archeologist said, “I think it’d be better if we left in separate cars, just in case. As far as I know, the press hasn’t found out this place yet, but one can never be sure.”
“Then I’ll go first.” Fine, as long as you move. Taking a deep breath, Ian got out of the house and walked into the silent freshness of the area. He never looked back. Once he was in his car, he turned on the engine. Less than a minute later, Dr. Farrow went towards his old Chevrolet. Both the archeologist and the sniper were on their way to the FBI.
Ian closely watched Dr. Farrow’s driving in his rearview mirror, just in case he decided to change his mind and travel to another destination. But there were no problems this time. It seemed that the man was finally cooperating, and Ian hoped things stayed that way.
Series: In the Arms of the Wicked, Part 6/?
Characters: Ian/OMC, Don, Charlie, Carl McGowan.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: Season 5.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Ian discovers a couple of things about Dr. Farrow while visiting his house.
Feedback: C'mon, a penny for your thoughts. *g*
Disclaimer: I don't own anything (characters, situations, etcetera) except my OCs.
Beta: The fantastic twins_m0m.
Previous chapter
Next chapter
Part 6: "The Perfect Coverage"
It was 5.55 am when Don entered the FBI building. He felt tired, since he had spent the night thinking about how to help his team. Colby and Larry had gone home a while after Ian had left. Charlie had decided to go out for a walk and returned at midnight only to remain silent and sleepless, just like his brother. Still, Don hadn’t come to any useful conclusions. It seemed that there was no way out of this one - Carl was tough but fair and he would eventually manage to get to the truth.
As he walked towards Agent McGowan’s office, he tried to control his heart beats. His pulse was a little bit too accelerated and if Carl saw he was nervous, it would somehow compromise him. When he got to his door, Don watched him talking over the phone with his usual calm yet focused face, writing down some data, and sometimes looking for a particular file. He had to be extremely careful or life as he knew it would become a living hell. He took a deep breath and respectfully knocked on the door. Carl looked up from his papers and gestured him to come in as he kept talking on the phone.
“Hey, Carl. I’m here as arranged…”
Done stopped talking when McGowan gestured him to stop. He was about to leave and wait outside just in case the phone call was classified, but soon Carl’s voice came up.
“Don, we’re going to reschedule. Come back in an hour.”
There were no excuses, no explanations, but Carl didn’t really have to say anything to make people do as he told them. Feeling a little bit discouraged, Don nodded and walked out of the room. At least he’d get a few more minutes to find good answers to give to particular questions and calm down his nerves a little bit. He walked back toward his desk, and somehow ended up at the break room, watching the way coffee was poured into the pot by the coffee machine. Something ordinary like that felt so safe right now, and it helped clear his mind.
“Are you OK?” someone asked him, interrupting his train of thought. When Don turned around, he found Charlie entering the break room.
“Yeah, buddy. It’s just that this interview with Carl… I don’t think it’s going to go well.”
Charlie approached him and stood beside him. “Hey, this is not your duty, Don… It is all about anyone but you. You shouldn’t try to…”
“Try what? To protect my team?” As Charlie didn’t say a word, Don took the coffee pot out of the machine and started pouring some of the steaming liquid into a cup. “You and everyone else aren’t only the people I work with, you’re friends and family. I can’t help worrying about you and wanting to keep you safe. It’s my job, it’s the way things are.”
“I know,” his brother responded. “Just… don’t try so hard. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of us.”
It was nice to hear that Charlie was worrying about Don. “Thanks, Charlie. I’ll see what I can do.”
There was a moment of silence, then Charlie spoke again. “What about Dr. Farrow?”
“Ah… Ian is supposed to try to bring him to the office today so we can speed things up a bit. There’s more data on the way here; it should arrive in less than an hour.”
“Good. Do you think Ian will be able to convince him?”
Doubtful, Don shook his head. “I have no idea.”
XxX
Millionaires’ houses should look like palaces or, at least, mansions. Farrow’s didn’t. It was an old, nice building of simple construction, out of town; a peculiar, silent, unique piece of land where no one famous seemed to possibly live. It seemed to be a perfect place for little kids to ride their bicycles as they carried candy in their tiny baskets. Too much like a dream, too different from what Dr. Farrow meant to the world. But it was still LA all around, no matter how much it looked like a disturbing, private mirage.
The perfect coverage for a shallow kind of life. The rings of his cell phone caught Ian’s attention as he walked towards the big but coarse house. “Yeah, Don,” he said before passing by a rubber tree with blooming white flowers and an old Chevrolet parked on the driveway. “New data? That’s OK, I’m on my way to Farrow’s door. You can be sure he’ll be there this morning. What about McGowan?” When Don informed Ian that their meeting had been rescheduled, the sniper responded, “Let’s hope that doesn’t mean something bad happened.”
He closed his phone and finally stood at Farrow’s door. He rang the bell and waited, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by the sudden change of air. Nature all around him was way different than the environment he was used to - downtown, large buildings, smog, car horns, chaos and crime.
December of 2006. Louis Terrence is found dead down the stairs in the property of Dr. Christopher Farrow at 20.17 pm. One bullet into the heart, another one into the head. Farrow is found inside the kitchen cabinet holding an empty gun. Ballistic analysis determines he wasn’t the one who shot Louis. But still…
There was the sound of someone using a key on the other side of the door. Ian assumed he would be welcomed by a butler or a housekeeper. He frowned behind his sunglasses when someone else appeared in front of his eyes.
“Ah,” was the only thing the doctor said when he opened the door. “Agent Edgerton.” His face looked slightly pleased, as if he had known that Ian would come to see him. Then he asked the sniper to come in.
Once Ian was inside the house, he took a quick look at the place. The entry opened into a giant, tidy library. There were open books everywhere he looked, and a big desk at the end of the room. He could see a laptop, three cell phones and a cup of coffee on the desk, along with some more books. It seemed as if Farrow had been working late that day. When Ian turned to face the archeologist again, he took off his sunglasses and analyzed the other man’s clothes. He assumed that he was about to take a shower, as Farrow was wearing jogging pants and a tank top. Strangely, he looked just like any other person in the world, not the annoying celebrity he actually was.
A man dressed completely in white with casual clothes came into the room and asked, “Christopher? I was about to open the door for you…”
So he’s your employee? Ian wondered why things were so weird in that house.
“It’s OK, Sergio, it’s just the FBI.”
“Just the FBI.” Yeah, right. As the man known as “Sergio” left the room, Ian said, “Your butler?”
“Yes,” Dr. Farrow stated. “I like my people to feel at home when they’re around me. I only give jobs to the ones I trust the most, the ones I have a bond with. As much of a cliché as it sounds, being me is not easy.” Then he walked over to his desk, where he started reading his books. “I assume you’re here because of the case.”
“Of course.”
A confident smile spread across Farrow’s lips. “I told you you’d be back.”
“This is duty,” Ian snapped. “We need you to come with me to the FBI. We’re getting more information in a few hours and we wanted you t-”
“No.”
Ian took a deep breath; he didn’t like being turned down. “That’s not a smart decision.”
“I’m fine with it.”
As Dr. Farrow kept flipping the pages of his books, Ian walked around the room. If the man liked to provoke, then he’d go with it. Maybe a game would be the key. “You’re going to stay here while these guys steal the pieces you’ve studied for years?”
“Yes. I’ve got everything I want here. My books, my research, my coffee. Why would I want to collaborate?”
Strangely, Ian could swear that he had heard Farrow whispering, “The working atmosphere is not pleasant anyway” after his last words. Yet, the sniper stated, “You’re a fraud.”
He suddenly heard Dr. Farrow’s laugh. “That kind of reverse psychology is not going to work.”
“Really?”
The way Ian said it - roughly, seriously - seemed to catch the archeologist’s attention. Dr. Farrow took his eyes off the books and stared at the sniper. Ian looked back, as ever as stoic.
The book he was holding was closed in a second. “Let me take a quick shower.”
Finally, convincing him hadn’t turned out to be so hard. “Okay,” Ian quietly answered. The tone of their conversation had changed so much since the moment they had met the day before. Maybe it was because this was Farrow’s territory, or because they were alone in that strange land, but something was different. Of course, Ian still considered the other man to be annoying, but as long as he cooperated with the case...
As Dr. Farrow took his shower, Ian continued studying the little details of the room he was in. The window behind the desk was open, its curtains slowly moving with the soft wind. But what really caught his attention were the frames that hanged from the creamy walls. They framed the pictures of the most exquisite horses - a fine, black and white Gypsy Vanner, a beautiful bay Arabian and a stunning black Friesian.
All of a sudden, a memory passed by filling Ian’s heart with sorrow and melancholy. He could smell the grass that naturally grew in Marah’s land; he could see the way she groomed her horses, the way she positioned the saddle pats and the saddles themselves on their backs. He could even visualize the way she talked to them as if they could understand her words.
“Do you like horses?” Dr. Farrow’s voice suddenly stopped the flow of memories. Ian noticed that he was wearing a casual shirt and formal pants. The image managed to disturb him somehow, so he didn’t answer and waited for the other man to continue. “I do. Those are from my house in Arizona. I’m trying to understand the ancient cultures’ veneration towards these animals, and I have to admit that they are quiet fascinating.”
“Do you have everything you need?” After the little flashes of the past, Ian wasn’t in the mood to keep talking about horses, no matter how much he felt dragged into their beauty.
“Yes.” The other man pointed at the suitcase and the extra bag he was carrying.
“Then let’s go.”
“Sergio, I’m leaving!”
“Okay!”
With the sound of Sergio doing the laundry in a distant room, Ian and Dr. Farrow went towards the door. But before opening it, the archeologist said, “I think it’d be better if we left in separate cars, just in case. As far as I know, the press hasn’t found out this place yet, but one can never be sure.”
“Then I’ll go first.” Fine, as long as you move. Taking a deep breath, Ian got out of the house and walked into the silent freshness of the area. He never looked back. Once he was in his car, he turned on the engine. Less than a minute later, Dr. Farrow went towards his old Chevrolet. Both the archeologist and the sniper were on their way to the FBI.
Ian closely watched Dr. Farrow’s driving in his rearview mirror, just in case he decided to change his mind and travel to another destination. But there were no problems this time. It seemed that the man was finally cooperating, and Ian hoped things stayed that way.