FIC: In a Mirror, Darkly: Chapter 5/?
Title: In a Mirror, Darkly: Chapter 5
Author: Valerie Vancollie (valeriev84 [at] hotmail.com)
Characters: Charlie, Don
Pairings: brief canon mentions of Charlie/Amita & Don/Robin
Rating: 15
Summary: There was a certain irony to the situation, that the brother who was a federal agent had been abducted to be used as leverage against the brother who was an applied mathematics professor at a highly respected college. Don Whump, Charlie Angst!
Betas: aleo_70 & fredbassett
Spoilers: Uncertainty Principle, Vector, Man Hunt, Dark Matter, Spree, Two Daughters, Brutus, Finders Keepers, One Hour, The Janus List, Breaking Point, Black Swan, When Worlds Collide, The Decoy Effect, Jack of All Trades, Arrow of Time, The Fifth Man, Greatest Hits, Angels and Devils
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Numb3rs characters, items or situations. I only lay claim to the original aspects of the fic.
Part II: Don: Fugitive Recovery
Chapter 5:
Friday, 22:12
Basement, Unknown Location
The pain was the first thing to penetrate the darkness that shrouded his mind and Don moaned before he fully recalled what had happened. As soon as he did, he stilled, hoping that no one had been around to hear the noise or that they'd assume he was still out of it so that he could assess his situation. What he could feel wasn't promising. He seemed to be seated in a chair, with his arms and legs aligned to its sides. The pressure on his wrists and ankles indicated that he'd been tied to the chair. Oh, well, at least the too tight cuffs were gone.
"You can stop playing possum, Agent Eppes," Shoes' voice stated, amusement clear in his tone. "I know you're awake, besides, I thought you wanted some answers?"
Slowly, Don opened his eyes, not wanting to blind himself should the light in the room be too bright. It wasn't and he was able to take in his surroundings immediately. The room appeared to be a basement of some sort, as noted by the undecorated concrete ceiling, floor and walls and the bare light bulbs that hung from the ceiling. On the far side of the room two sturdy wooden doors in the wall next to each other, one with several locks, seemed to be the only entrances or exits to the basement.
Despite the room having only the bare essentials, there was absolutely nothing lacking about the state-of-the-art computer equipment set up across from him. The large desk fairly sagged under the weight of the multitude of monitors perched upon it and the two low filing cabinets on either side of it. The rest of the desktop was covered in wires, other computer equipment he didn't recognize, an international clock displaying the date and time, a keyboard and mouse, a wrist protector, a few dirty dishes and sheaves of papers strewn about, much like Charlie's usually were, across the work surface. A fancy chair on wheels stood in front of the desk with a sweater thrown carelessly across the back as if taken off and forgotten. The floor around the desk was stacked high with what appeared to be a dozen or more hard drives, the wires going everywhere, with all color and manner of lights blinking on and off.
What really caught his eye, though, was the NSA logo which moved across most of the screens in a typical screensaver pattern; aimless and annoying. What on Earth was that doing here? His earlier feeling of dread deepened as he saw the same eagle and key logo embossed across several of the papers scattered on the desk.
Something was very, very wrong here.
Don took all of this in within a few seconds, finally bringing his gaze to rest on the room's sole occupant other than himself. The man was looking at him calmly, patiently waiting for him to finish his perusal of his surroundings. It was as if Shoes understood the instinctive reaction to take in a new location before focusing on other matters. Green eyes, Don noted automatically, adding it to the description he'd already filed away about the man. He hadn't been able to tell that particular detail the last time between his blurry vision and the sun shining in his eyes. A blue-green more than a brown-green, unusual given his hair color, but that was a good thing, it would make him easier to identify.
"What do you want with my brother?" Don demanded, his voice coming out weaker than he would have liked it to.
The question caused Shoes' lips to curl upwards as the man studied him closely. "You're a dangerous one," he finally commented.
"Huh?"
"Blakely knew that any attack on your family would set you off, and your record more than speaks for itself. You'd never have stopped hunting us."
"No, I won't," Don promised darkly, knowing he shouldn't but the mere thought of them using him as a pawn against his brother infuriated him. "How did you access my records?"
"That's irrelevant at the moment, but you should be thankful that we did."
"Why?"
"Because, if we hadn't known how dangerous you could be to us, we'd never have targeted you. Why abduct a federal agent when there's an old man who'll not only be easier to kidnap, but to control as well?"
Don felt ice flow through his veins and horror flood him as he realized what Shoes was saying. Dad! Just the thought of them attacking his father the way they had him made him sick to his stomach, even as it enraged him further.
"Once we had a look at your file, though, we knew you'd never let the unexplained disappearance of your father go lightly. No, given the lengths you went to in order to get one of your agents back when she was taken, we knew we couldn't afford to leave you free to start hunting us."
He hated to admit it, even to himself, but Shoes was right, Don was thankful they had access to his file if that was what had spared his father this fate. Even what he'd allowed Ian to do during the Hoyle-Winters case took on a better light if it helped keep them away from Dad. But why was this happening at all? What did they want so desperately from his little brother that they felt they needed a hostage in order to obtain it?
"What is this all about?" Don demanded, the rage he felt leaking into his voice. "What do you want from Charlie?"
"The same as anyone else, I should imagine," Shoes responded with a slight shrug. "For him to solve a problem that is, at its core, mathematical in nature."
"He won't do it," Don stated bluntly.
It was a boldfaced lie, but Don was glad at how convincingly it came out. He knew Charlie wouldn't be able to say no if he knew that they had him. Hell, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to follow procedure if they'd grabbed Dad or Charlie and demanded he do something for them. He only hoped his brother had the good sense to alert David to the situation immediately so his team could rescue him.
"Oh, he already is," Shoes stated simply. "He just doesn't realize what he's working on or who it's for yet."
The statement caused Don's eyes to dart back to the computer screens with their NSA logo screensavers. The appearance of Suit at the end of the attack also flashed across his mind along with his earlier suspicions of just how much he looked like a federal agent, not to mention Charlie's strange behavior earlier. Charlie had been evasive, he now realized, as if he was trying to hide something. He'd thought it was something mathematical or which his brother didn't trust him with, but he hadn't considered the possibility that Charlie believed he couldn't discuss it with him. That he'd been forbidden from doing so. The pieces came together and he clenched his jaw as he understood exactly what they were doing to his brother.
"He thinks it's an NSA consultation he's doing, doesn't he?"
"Yes, precisely."
"Then why am I here at all? It would have been better if you'd never involved anyone else."
"And left your brother none the wiser about what he'd done? Yes, it would have been and that's exactly what we'd originally hoped for, but we expect he'll start to get suspicious as he gets further into the work."
"Hence the need for some leverage," Don concluded, furious.
"Exactly," Shoes confirmed, glancing down at the agent's clenched fists. "As soon as it becomes apparent that he knows something isn't right, Agent Banner will pay him a little visit and inform him that we have you."
The helplessness he'd felt earlier when being handcuffed was back and Don yanked at the ropes binding his wrists down to the arms of the chair.
Agent Banner.
The title confirmed his fears, there was a traitor involved in this whole mess, perhaps even more than one given all of the, no doubt, classified NSA material they possessed. Just how far did this treachery go? The mere thought of all the sensitive information the NSA had access to or kept stored within its computers nearly made him blanch. The damage that could be done to the country if some of that information fell into the wrong hands...
"What is it exactly that you want Charlie to do for you?"
"Ever the special agent," Shoes laughed, shaking his head. "Suffice it to say that what we want is extremely valuable to our client and he's willing to pay us handsomely for retrieving it."
Client. Oh, Don didn't like the sound of that.
He was going to press the matter further when the door with the locks opened and a man stepped into the room. He was of average height but not average weight, not with the bulging muscles on display in the wife beater he wore. His arms were also heavily inked in a disturbingly familiar mesh of designs and Don's eyes darted up to the man's face as dread coiled in his gut. His fears were confirmed as he met hard brown eyes set in a compact, square face topped with light brown hair that seemed to only just be recovering from having been shaved off entirely.
"Hello, Eppes, remember me?" Club demanded with a wicked grin as he stalked towards the bound man.
"Frazer," Don replied evenly, forcing down the flash of fear he felt.
His earlier suspicions of the man he'd dubbed Club wanting him dead were confirmed and he felt a chill race up his spine. The Frazer brothers had been one of the first Fugitive Recovery cases he and Coop had been assigned, and it was the one where he'd proven himself to the other man. The older agent hadn't been too pleased with getting assigned a permanent partner and had forced Don to prove his worth. He'd done so when they'd been ambushed by the Frazer brothers. Despite the younger one's appearance, the two had been jailed for high-end computer crimes and an almost successful attempt to hack into the Pentagon to steal information. The violent and bloody manner in which they'd tried to avoid arrest had sealed their fate when the cop they'd shot died in the hospital three days later of complications due to surgery.
Don had always thought that it was the older brother, George, who'd had the discipline and smarts necessary to plan and carry out their crimes while the younger one did more of the dirty work. Despite all that, George Frazer had seemed more than willing to get his hands dirty when he'd leveled a gun at Coop, so he'd had no choice but to shoot first, killing him. The younger brother, Darien, had flown at him in a rage, attempting to beat him to death and it had taken both Coop and himself to wrestle him down and handcuff him. Even then, once securely restrained, the man had hurled threat after threat at him, swearing vengeance and promising him a most painful death.
His blood ran cold as Don remembered some of the more creative options. How had Darien gotten out yet again? Why hadn't he been notified of his escape? The nature of his threats and the fact that Frazer kept issuing them long after he'd been returned to prison meant that an alert should have been added to his file. Don should have been informed the moment it was even suspected Frazer had escaped and yet he'd received no warnings at all.
"Made an impression, did I?" Frazer questioned as he stopped beside Don's chair. "Glad to see you're finally awake again, I was afraid I'd hit you too hard and ruined all the fun before I truly got started."
Although the words caused his gut to clench, Don maintained a bland expression on his face and met Frazer's gaze head on. He knew better than to show any kind of weakness in front of a man like this. Frazer would mercilessly exploit any opening he gave him.
"Here," Shoes said, interrupting the staring contest and holding out a length of cloth to Frazer. "Gag him so we can take the photos."
"What?" Don demanded as Frazer looked away and exchanged the Polaroid camera he held for the cloth.
"Just a little extra incentive for your brother," Shoes explained.
Don bit back the choice words he wanted to utter as he glared at the man. Given the blood he'd tasted on his lip earlier and the bruises he was sure to have from the attack, he knew Charlie wouldn't need any more incentives. Not with the additional blood that stained his shirt from where the knife had cut him. The thought angered him even more and he allowed the anger to grow as it helped dilute the fear he felt upon seeing the nearly manic expression on Frazer's face. He didn't even want to contemplate what the man might have in store for him. Would Shoes really be able to keep him in line? Frazer already seemed to hesitate before carrying out the other man's orders, for exactly how much longer would he obey at all?
Just as his face was grabbed and the cloth stuffed into his mouth, a new thought occurred to Don, one that chilled him to the core. What if Shoes didn't intend to keep curbing Frazer's actions? What if he was only delaying the fugitive until they had what they wanted from Charlie? What if he had no intention of letting Don go at all, no matter what Charlie did?
The thought had Don jerking his head forward even as Frazer attempted to tie the two ends of the cloth into a knot. The effort was futile and Don felt the cloth dig into the corners of his mouth as it was fastened beyond what was necessary to silence him. His tongue was trapped, nearly causing him to gag, but he fought it back down, not wanting to choke to death or inadvertently suffocate himself if they couldn't get the gag off in time.
"Now, that's what I call beautiful," Frazer laughed. "I want a photo, Keane, to keep as a souvenir."
"You can have as many as you want," Shoes replied with an irritated look. "Now, step back."
Keane. Don filed the name away with the rest of the information he'd collected about the man he'd dubbed Shoes. Despite how useful it would be to have a surname when conducting a search for the man, the fact that it had been uttered at all was yet another indicator of what he feared his fate would be. Not only did he know what they looked like, but now he had their names as well.
His eyes flashed dangerously as Don glared at Keane. They were setting Charlie up in a no win situation, the end result of which was sure to destroy his little brother. Charlie would never believe that the outcome had been fixed ahead of time, no matter who told him that. There would always be a part of him that would wonder if, had he been better, smarter, faster, would it have changed anything? Would it have saved his brother's life?
The soft click of the camera as it took its first shot went almost unnoticed by Don due to the fury and helplessness he felt. They were going to use him to do that to Charlie and there was not a damned thing he could do to stop them.
"Okay, now for the proof that we're deadly serious," Keane stated.
The words were addressed to Frazer and Don could do nothing as the fugitive pulled a revolver from the back of his waistband and cocked it. Adrenaline surged through him, causing his muscles to vibrate uselessly, restrained as he was, when the gun was turned on him. It was a particular style of gun, one where the bullets were visible to anyone unfortunate enough to be looking down the muzzle as he was. It was this added intimidation factor that made the revolver so popular among the more sadistic of criminals.
Don refused to be cowed by it and transferred his gaze instead to Frazer's eyes, meeting his glare head on despite the instinctive fear he felt at being on the wrong end of a gun. He could admit, to himself, that being able to see the bullet that could kill him did add an extra layer of intimidation to being held at gunpoint. He was not, however, going to let Frazer know that. It was a challenge not to flinch or show any additional reaction as the gun was brought up and pressed harshly against his temple, but he managed it. He was determined to make it as difficult as possible for Frazer to enjoy this.
Too late, Don remembered Keane and the camera and the man managed several shots before he could think about how it would look to Charlie.
"Excellent, these should do fine," Keane stated as he shook the photos. "Ungag him."
"Why?" Frazer demanded. "I like him like this. No smart remarks."
"Because there's a danger he'll choke or suffocate and we need him alive. Besides, it's not like he can cry for help."
Reluctantly, Frazer obeyed and Don resisted the urge to spit out the cloth as soon as it was loosened. If Frazer realized how much he disliked it, he'd probably push harder to be able to put it back on again.
"You're not planning on keeping your end of the deal," Don stated bluntly, looking Keane right in the eye. "You've no intention of letting me go, even if Charlie does everything you want him too."
"Release someone as dangerous as you? After all that you've seen of us and our operation? No, of course not," Keane replied matter-of-factly.
Chapter 6