Numb3rs Fic: Child's Play, Chapter Five/15

[aleo_70]

Title: Child's Play
Author: ALEOaleo_70
Genre: Gen
Characters: Don, David, Colby, Charlie, Alan, AD Wright
Rating: PG 13+
Warning: some violence
Spoilers: Black Swan 4.13, Backscatter 2.22, One Hour 3.17.  Also mention of a character from my fic Wildfire, although it is not necessary to read that first.
Summary: He was bound, he was hooded and he was captive.  Cold and sharp, a knife blade was laid against his throat.

Status: Chapter 5 of 15
Wordcount (this chapter): 2258
Total wordcount: ~37,400

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

-1-1100-1-1110- 

The flight had been interminable.  The false cheerfulness of the airline staff served only to grate on his nerves as the miles crawled past.  Alan found himself becoming short with them, no he didn’t want a coffee/napkin/snack.  He wanted his son back, wanted Don to be waiting for him at the airport.  It didn’t help any that the air phones on the flight had been down, he was out of contact and there was nothing he could do about it for the scheduled hour and thirty minutes of the flight.  He fidgeted and tried hard to control himself.  These days a nervous traveller could be regarded as something far more sinister.

No matter how often he checked the in-flight display he couldn’t make the plane move any faster.  Why did he have to be so far away from town when this had happened?  He’d been incredibly fortunate to have been able to get a seat on the flight and not be forced to wait until morning.  There was no way that was going to happen, he’d already seen the hire car counter and would have driven if he’d had to.

It was with a great sense of relief when the aircraft finally landed and taxied to the terminal.  Another interminable wait whilst the crew prepared to open the doors.  Eventually they were ready and Alan immediately started to fight his way off the plane.  Normally one to wait calmly in his seat whilst the aisles cleared he just couldn’t do it this time, not when one son was missing and the other frantic with worry.  Despite his efforts the press of the other passengers forced him to move slowly down the narrow passageway and out onto the walkway into the terminal.  Here the area opened up and he was able to make more speed and headed directly for the exit, he’d only been travelling light and had no baggage to wait for, thank God.  After Charlie’s frantic call he’d shoved everything into the bag and had been out of the hotel room within minutes. 

Digging into his pocket he dragged out his cell phone and switched it on.  He slipped it back into his pocket as he strode to the exit knowing it would take a minute or so to acquire a network before he would be able to make or receive any calls.  He was determined not to waste any time, he could make the call whilst driving.  Concentrating on his goal, the exit and then the parking lot he didn’t notice the man that moved to intercept his path.

“Mr Eppes.”

Alan stopped abruptly at the touch of the hand on his arm. Turning he looked into the face of a man in a suit holding up a familiar ID card.  His heart sank, why would someone he didn’t know from the FBI be waiting for him?  He’d told Charlie he would come directly home.  “Yes?  What-?”

The young man moved quickly to calm the older man, seeing the rising panic.  “Mr Eppes, we’ve not had any other word regarding Agent Eppes.”

“Then why-?”

“Agent Sinclair asked me to escort you to the Field Office.”  The man explained.  He held out his hand.  “My name is Jonathan Clements, please call me Jon.”

Alan took the offered hand and shook it automatically.  He looked around but saw no-one he knew.  “Where’s my other son?  Where’s Charlie?”

“Agent Sinclair took him to the Field Office where he could be protected.”

“Protected from what?”  Alan demanded, his voice rising.  “Someone has taken Don and you are telling me that Charlie is in danger as well?  What have you got that you’re not telling me?”

“Sir!  Sir, please.”  Clements said soothingly.  “All I know is that Agent Sinclair felt it best that Dr Eppes be taken to the office as a precautionary measure.  We’ve had no word at all from the kidnappers, no indications of what they want or why Agent Eppes has been taken.  At the moment we’re-”

“You’re assuming the worst then.”  Alan interrupted, his voice trailing off as images of what the worst could be started coming unbidden into his mind.  Unfortunately over the last few years he had managed to accidentally see images in files, images he was never meant to see.  It was this type of image that rose now in his thoughts, mangled and bloodied bodies in various contortions each wearing his eldest son’s face.  He shut them out, taking a firm hold of his thoughts, he was not one to borrow trouble if he could avoid it. 

“We’re assuming Agent Eppes is alive.”  Clements said firmly.  He took a hold of Alan’s arm and started steering him to the exit.  He finished what he had started to say earlier.  “We’re just not sure at the moment that Agent Eppes was the intended target.  Agent Sinclair may have more by the time we get to the office.”

Donny was not the intended target?  Of the three of them if someone was going to attack the family Don was the most likely victim.  That then left Charlie as the next most probable target, what with his previous work with the FBI, NSA along with the CDC and whoever else that his youngest had kept quiet.  Numbly Alan let himself be led on for a few paces until self preservation made him tug his arm free and stop. 

Don had drilled into him the need to be sure of who he was going with if ever anything like this ever happened, if someone he didn’t recognise and claiming to be FBI tried to take him anywhere.  He’d thought it paranoia at the time but definitely saw the value of his son’s concerns now.  “Can I see that ID again?”

“Sure.”  Without any sign of hesitation or misgivings Clements pulled the wallet back out of his pocket and handed it over, allowing the older man to take his time inspecting it.

Alan carefully scanned the contents of the wallet, the engraving on the badge, the security features Don had shown him on the ID card itself and even the wallet it all came in.  It all checked out, the marks Don had shown him to look for were all present.  He glanced at the young agent, the man seemed completely at ease with the scrutiny as if knowing that he had nothing to hide and was completely above board.  Alan was convinced.  He handed the ID back and waved his hand in an ‘after-you’ gesture.  He wasn’t surprised when Clements shook his head and repeated the gesture himself, he would follow Alan.

Once outside Clements touched his charge on the elbow as he’d started to turn towards the long term parking facility.

“My car-“ Alan started, pointing to the left.  He’d figured the agent would follow him to the office.

“Sir, it’d be better if we take mine.”  Clements pointed at the black sedan parked illegally against the curb.  The small sticker on the windshield ensured it wouldn’t be towed, as did the second agent waiting in the vehicle.  Agent Sinclair had suggested to him that just one of them approach Mr Eppes as it would be less worrying or threatening for the older man that way.  The way his ID had been inspected showed that Sinclair had been right, Mr Eppes was cautious and given the situation would likely have attempted to flee if he’d thought they were not agents.

Alan again started to object but stopped himself.  David must really be worried to be this careful.  That realisation in turn worried him.  He nodded and changed direction, climbing into the backseat of the other car. 

During the drive into LA it never crossed his mind that he could have been the intended target.

 

-100-1111-1110- 

Don had bitten back the snappy, ‘sure’ that rose unbidden at the priest’s conversational expression.  The agent wasn’t going anywhere, that much was obvious.  He waited as the priest went back over to Chief and had a few words with him before moving on to the van.  The priest came back a minute or two later carrying a bundle of blankets.

“Here we go, Agent.”  Father Mike said as he dropped the blankets with a smile.  “I insisted on coming here for your welfare so I was prepared.  As a part of that I can check your bindings and your injuries.  How are your hands?”

Don blinked for a moment as he processed the words.  Sighing, he decided that the priest meant exactly what he said, check his bindings not release his bindings.  “They’re okay.” 

Moments after discovering that he was bound the agent had tested the strength of the rope about his wrists and found that his captors had done a good job.  They weren’t Boy Scouts but they certainly tied knots like they were.  He’d given up after a few minutes before he rubbed his wrists raw.  There was no point in causing himself an injury when it wouldn’t do him any good.  At least the rope wasn’t tied too tight and he could still move and feel his fingers despite the cold.  The priest checked anyway, moving around behind the agent and touching his hands, gently applying pressure to his fingertips to check for circulation before inspecting his wrists for chaffing. 

As Father Mike worked Don noticed that Chief had stepped forward, a hand in his pocket, holding the knife no doubt.  The boy’s attention was fully focused on the priest and he was close enough to act quickly.  Don regretted his earlier insistence that the older man release him in the presence of the armed boy, clearly Chief was prepared to pull out the knife and perhaps he was prepared even to use it to control the priest.  Don didn’t want to put anyone else at risk.

The priest then moved his attention to his head.  “Where did they strike you?”

“Back of my head.”  Don was not surprised the man knew that detail, Chief had obviously been fully open with details of his crime.  The headache had subsided a little but fortunately that was his only real symptom, no dizziness and even more importantly no nausea, that would not have been fun whilst wearing a hood.  Gentle fingers probed until the agent winced, hissing in a breath.  He’d found the spot.

“Looks like the skin’s split and it’s bled a bit, but it doesn’t seem too bad.”  The priest bent down and recovered a small first aid kit from amongst the blankets.  Pulling out a gauze swab he poured on some antiseptic solution.  “This will probably sting a little.”

The priest was wrong but Don just winced, it didn’t sting a little, it stung a lot.  The man moved his ministrations to Don’s throat and once again the antiseptic solution stung on the small cut located there.

“There, all done.  I’ve got some paracetamol if that will help?”  Father Mike held up a clearly marked packet of pills.  He pulled the blister slide out and showed the agent that each table was still sealed in the manufacturer’s packaging.

“Thanks, Father.”  He nodded accepting the pain killers, if they relieved his headache it would make it easier for him to concentrate.  The priest slipped two tablets into his mouth and held a bottle of water for him to wash them down.

A few minutes later Don was back on his side, lying now on a layer of folded blanket with another draped over him.  He was immediately warmer, but hardly comfortable, not with the circumstances being what they were.  He watched as the priest moved back to join Chief near the van. 

Don could only lie back helplessly as they started talking.  They were far enough away that he couldn’t hear the words.  But the glances that came his way more frequently as the conversation continued along with some sharp hand movements indicated that Chief was becoming increasingly agitated.  Don suspected that somehow the offer of a reduced penalty was not going over as well as it could have.  Certainly not as well as an unrealistic no-punishment, home-free offer would have.  He sighed again, even to ensure his own safety he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.  There were times you lied to offenders to achieve an end, but this was not one of them.

The boy finally approached him alone as the priest climbed back up into the van.  That couldn’t be good, from what Don could tell there had been no solution reached.  He caught the priest’s eye and the man waved a calming hand, it wasn’t over yet.

Awkwardly he started to struggle up to face the kid but stopped at the raised hand.  The kid waited for him to settle back before moving the last few steps.  He bent and pulled the blanket up for a moment, checking his captive’s wrists then ankles for interference with the ropes.  This despite earlier hovering nearby watching the priest’s every move.  The blanket was dropped back into place as Chief moved away without a word.   At least the hood hadn’t been replaced.

The agent watched as the van was driven from the building.  He tried to get a look at the area outside the warehouse as the door closed but with the spot lights in his eyes all he could see was blackness and the glow of streetlights and some passing headlights.  Not enough to identify where he was or provide him with a landmark he might be able to find later.

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