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aleo_70Author:
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aleo_70 Rating: PG 13+
Genre: Gen
Characters: Don, with cameo by David
Challenge: Clue Challenge #9, March 2010 at
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hurt_don . Prompts: Who? - Don ; What? - Explosion; Where? - Crime Scene. 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.
Spoilers: Nil
Warnings: some violence
Word count this chapter: 3419
Word count total: ~22,800
Summary: Finding himself dragged into a mad bombers plan Don wonders if he will survive the day.
CHAPTER SIX
Don clapped his hands over the wounds in his thigh as the sound of the shot died away, applying pressure and hissing though his teeth at the intense pain. His gaze locked on Mason as the man sat back but even though the gun was now aimed at his chest the wild look was gone from the bomber’s eyes. Sparing the time Don quickly glanced down to see blood welling up from beneath his fingers to coat his hands. There was some relief, it didn’t appear as if the artery had been hit, he’d seen that sort of bleed and this wasn’t it. The bullet wound still hurt like hell though and he knew the damage was serious. Adjusting his grip slightly he couldn’t help but catch his gaze on the muzzle of his gun seeing the last curl of smoke leave the barrel. Tearing his eyes away he met Mason’s once again.
“I don’t need you to drive for me any more.” Mason told him almost calmly, his anger seeming to have evaporated once he’d acted on it. “Alive would be good, but I have enough other hostages if I need them.”
“Won’t be alive if I bleed out.” Don hissed back through his teeth.
Mason barely glanced at the wound. “You’re not bleeding out. At least, not for a while yet. EMT, remember?”
That was another shock, the man really was an EMT? It was hard to believe that someone trained to care for injured people at their most vulnerable moment was capable of the cold-blooded murder of random innocents.
“Just keep pressure on it.” Mason added, the instruction sounding like it was given on autopilot. He then leant forwards slightly and the friendly EMT persona disappeared as the voice dropped. “Think you can be quiet now?”
Reacting to the menacing tone Don had barely nodded when a ringing cell interrupted them. Reaching awkwardly into his pocket Mason used a couple of fingers to pull out Don’s phone and dropped it into his lap. Using a free finger he pressed a button to reject the call.
“You have to answer them.” Don risked.
“No, I don’t. They can see you’re still alive and I still have the remote.” Mason raised his left hand as he spoke so the spotters could be sure of that. He also raised the Glock slightly. “I’m done with this conversation, are you?”
Eyeing the gun pointed at him and hearing the complete sincerity and total lack of empathy in Mason’s voice Don could do nothing but nod again. He had no doubt that the bomber would shoot him again if he felt it necessary and quite possibly not to wound next time.
The threat of the dead-man’s switch was still a good one for the agents outside the vehicle even if Don now believed its deliberate use was a bluff. Mason didn’t want to kill himself, he wanted his part in a movie. Those outside the SUV didn’t know that but they did know that taking him out would cause the remote to be dropped, detonating the bomb here even if not the alleged device downtown, a device Don was now sure was also a bluff. Even believing there was no second bomb he was still stuck. If he were able to ignore the wound in his leg and attempt to take Mason on when he swapped the gun back for the phone the remote would quite likely be dropped in the scuffle. Everyone around them would end up dead. There wasn’t anything he could do, the crowd outside was still too close.
He saw Mason’s face shift to a grin as he got what he wanted. Then there was a flash of uncertainty as it seemed the man suddenly realised he had both hands occupied which would make it hard to continue his call, assuming Brock was still on the line. Don could almost see the thoughts as it seemed he’d come to the conclusion that he had somewhat shown his hand and figured the remote may no longer be as good a threat to keep the agent in line as the gun. He couldn’t be sure now that his hostage would continue to do as ordered.
Mason quickly found a solution, keeping the gun aimed at the agent he reached across himself and pressed a button on the cell with his little finger. “Brock?”
“What was that?” A man’s puzzled voice asked from the phone’s speaker.
“That was the agent interrupting us. I shot him to shut him up.” Mason explained as if he were explaining that he had to turn on a light.
“You killed him?”
“No, he’s still alive.” Mason answered sounding annoyed yet again.
Don’s cell started ringing again and with some more awkward fumbling with the hand holding the remote causing Don’s breath to catch, Mason rejected the call.
There was a long pause before Brock started speaking, his words slow in disbelief. “So, that really is you there in that SUV? You’re the Mad Bomber and I’m watching you on live TV?”
“That’s me. I already told you that. Do you want me to wave or something? Now, when can I-“
“You’ve got a federal agent hostage? You actually set those explosions?”
“Weren’t you listening? They thought I wasn’t right for the part when I read for them. I had to show them.”
“You copied the movie role, the part you were reading for, for real?” Brock was clearly finding all this hard to believe.
“Yeah, about that,” Mason started conversationally as he ignored the increasing hysteria from Brock. “There are a few things they need to change to make it better. Agent Eppes here had some great ideas.”
“You read for the part,” Brock repeated, sounding as he was in shock. “They didn’t like you.”
“They said I wasn’t convincing as a mad bomber. They have to believe I can play the part now.”
“Have you totally lost it? It’s just a movie, not meant to be for real!” Brock all but shouted back.
Mason ignored that as well as a thought occurred to him. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. When you talk to them tell them I’d like creative input as well.”
“You’re nuts.”
“See? Even you think I’m good for the part. Call them back. I think I can ask for more now too, don’t you? Your commission will be bigger and-”
“No way! I’m not having any part of this.”
There was a loud bang as the phone on the other end was hung up forcefully. Mason glanced away from the agent he’d been keeping a close eye on to look at his phone in obvious surprise. “He hung up on me.”
Don kept his mouth shut as Mason turned back. The man was far too volatile and he waited to see what was going to happen now. Mason had finally made his demand of someone he considered able to grant him what he wanted. Now that had fallen through he had no idea where this was going to be taken now, especially since the bomber had disabled his driver. Interrupting his thoughts his cell started ringing for the third time since he was shot. This time Mason let it ring as he continued to stare at Don. The agent got the impression Mason also didn’t know what to do next.
It came to him in a flash of understanding. Mason had been playing out a part from a movie role. The planning and forethought they had attributed to the bomber actually belonged to a screenwriter. Which all meant that everything he thought he’d learnt about the man was wrong, until now he’d not seen the real Pete Mason. Now that he was off the script the man had to think for himself and somehow Don didn’t think that was going to go so well. He’d carried on his conversation with Brock in the guise of the bomber but that cocky self-confidence had suddenly seemed to desert him as Brock hung up on him. That just left the wannabe actor. Pete Mason clearly had issues, flashes of which Don had seen, and now Pete Mason was the one he had to deal with.
“They will do something if you don’t answer.” Don finally managed as his phone started up for the fourth ring.
“This is all your fault.” Pete accused.
Don’s jaw dropped and it took him a moment to find voice at the unexpected statement. The anger that had just got him shot resurfaced. “My fault? How the hell is this my fault? I’ve done everything you’ve demanded.”
“You argued, you fought me the whole way and now you’ve ruined it with Brock. He was going to get me the part until you spoiled it.” Instead of the angry parent he now sounded like a petulant child.
The gun came back up and Don was sure now that the increasingly dangerous bomber was going to end it for him and there was nothing that neither he nor the agents and police outside the SUV could do to prevent it. He wasn’t able to help the automatic reaction that had him pushing himself back until he was pressed against the door once again, nowhere left to go. As he adjusted his position his hands had also come off his leg, lifting as if they could prevent a bullet striking him. He saw the man’s eyes note the blood and glance downwards.
“Keep pressure on it.” Pete suddenly ordered, sounding once again like an EMT.
At the jerk of the gun towards his wound Don lowered his hands and resumed applying pressure. The blood flow had eased somewhat but with his movement just now it could easily increase again. It was also a sign that perhaps he wasn’t going to be shot, or at least not right now. Unsure what he should say he again kept his mouth shut and waited. As time went on the man was making less sense and he remembered the question from the journalist as to his mental state. From his untrained, but experienced perspective it was obvious that the bomber was unstable, the mood swings and now persona shifts coming more abruptly. He’d been living in the fantasy world of the mad bomber role for the last week or more, now he’d been yanked out of that and was confused as to his identity. Was he Pete the EMT or Mason the Mad Bomber? His grip on reality was obviously shaky as he seemed to have believed that everything would work out in his favour with no consequences once he’d finished his method acting audition.
Abruptly the gun was lowered and pushed away under the man’s right leg before he twisted and reached back between the seats. Even though he was off balance and the gun was out of play but Don still didn’t move, the remote was still a danger if accidentally dislodged. The way Pete was grabbing at the bag he’d been carrying earlier with both hands made that risk all the greater. A quick glance around showed that whilst the LAPD and security had made progress moving the crowd it still wasn’t enough, close but not enough. If he could string this all out a little longer, perhaps just a few minutes, then maybe he would have a chance to do something. Although what that could be he hadn’t a clue.
Pete twisted back, pulling his bag with him and balanced it across the space between the front seats. Glancing up at the agent as if to reassure himself he hadn’t moved the EMT zipped open the bag to reveal an extensive medical kit. Selecting some items he pushed the bag aside. With some careful juggling of the remote he pulled on some latex gloves before leaning forward.
“Let’s have a look at that leg, shall we?”
Don prised his hands off his leg and found himself holding them up almost as if his gun was being pointed at him again. The shift back to friendly EMT concerned him more than the angry bomber. He just didn’t know who he was dealing with anymore, making the situation all that more unpredictable.
“This might hurt a bit.”
The EMT had already cut away the leg of his jeans to access the injury, now he prodded at the entry wound and then at the larger exit wound on the back of the leg. Hurt was an understatement and Don just barely caught himself from reaching out to shove the man’s hands away. Instead he balled them into fists and pressed down on the seat on either side of him as a horrified thought struck him, how close had he just come to dislodging the dead-man’s switch? It was far from secure in Pete’s grip as the man was using both hands to work at Don’s leg. Panting his way through the pain he fixated on the bomber’s left hand holding the remote, sure that at any moment his thumb would slip. After struggling with a bulk dressing pack the hand suddenly shoved at him.
“Hold this.”
“What?” He demanded in shock as the remote was presented to him.
“I can’t fix your leg and hold this at the same time.”
“But,” Don started before the rest of his brain caught up and told him to shut the hell up. It was too late and he saw the change in the man’s face, the bomber was back. The man’s right hand shifted on his leg and pressed against the bullet wound.
“I wouldn’t get any ideas.” Mason warned as he pressed harder. “Try anything and I’ll make you drop it. You’ll have five seconds after that to think on how you’re about to die.”
The grip tightened further forcing a grunt from between Don’s tightly clenched teeth. Abruptly the hand lifted, the lack of pressure briefly causing even more pain before dulling only slightly. Don forced his gaze away from the threatening hand resting lightly now on his leg and looked to the other man’s face, seeing the left hand jerk towards him. Staring into the bomber’s eyes he slowly reached out his right hand and lightly touched the remote, still unsure what would happen. It was pressed forwards and he quickly got his thumb onto the edge of the switch just as Mason let go. Bringing his left hand up he adjusted his precarious grip until he held the remote securely. In the process he’d moved it into his left hand and he now started to shift his arm, raising it towards the window sill of the door he was still pressed against. His mind was working again and he saw a chance. If he could get it up high enough the spotters would see that he now held the device, opening up their options to deal with the bomber. He froze as fresh pain assaulted him.
“Don’t.”
He quickly dropped his hand to his lap. “Okay, okay.” Don gasped and Mason’s hand once again lifted off the wound.
The man swabbed at the fresh blood his mistreatment of the injury had caused. Opening the bulk dressing pack he’d struggled with earlier he placed the pad against the exit wound, then opening another pack placed that one over the entrance wound. Unsealing a bandage he lifted the agent’s leg enough that he could reach under and started wrapping the cloth around the leg. A second bandage and he was done, wrapping two turns of tape over the top to hold everything securely.
Pete looked up as he stripped the gloves off his hands. “That should hold for now. You’re going to need some surgery though, those bullets you guys carry are downright nasty.”
“Uh, thanks.” Don said cautiously as the EMT started collecting the wrappers from the dressings, tossing them into the back after the used swab and bloody gloves.
Then, in what seemed like an automatic move, the EMT pulled his bag back across onto the seat and sorted through its contents, reordering things now that he’d used some items. Don had seen this before at incident scenes, the paramedics ensuring they knew what supplies they had left in case they had to go again before they could restock. The bag was then closed and zipped back up. Completing his tidy up Pete then twisted and started to put the bag back into the rear of the SUV.
The central locking was off and his door was open before Don had consciously considered the move. It was his only chance, the bomber was off balance with both hands occupied and away from the gun still under his leg. With the man’s next logical move being to take the dead-man’s switch back this was Don’s only chance. Pushing himself out he hit the ground in a graceless heap but he was out of the SUV. There was a shout from the crowd that were now only just back far enough but he barely heard them. The shout from inside the SUV was louder and far more concerning.
“No!”
Shoving himself up Don made it to his feet, his right leg emphatically telling him it didn’t want to support his weight but it held. The urgency of what he had to do meant that he couldn’t celebrate that small victory having expected the leg to fail him and finish his escape before he’d started it. At his very next step though his knee buckled and he almost face-planted the pavers but he refused to go down, pushing on as Mason again shouted behind him.
“Get back here!”
Getting his legs moving he lurched away from the SUV, trying to angle around behind it to reduce Mason’s potential line of fire. Remembering something else he shoved his left hand into the air in the hope that the spotters would see what he held. There was a loud bang and he flinched, almost going down again but he managed to keep his footing. Another bang, then a third and he felt fresh pain, a sharp burning sensation in his left shoulder and his arm dropped. The gunshots continued rapid fire and he felt another hit on his lower arm, his automatic glance showing a deep furrow across his forearm. Mason was shooting at the arm holding the remote and seemed to be a damned good shot given his success so far. He felt his hand grow slippery with fresh blood and he worked to tighten his grip. Frantically he tried to dodge right as the shots continued. His leg gave way and this time he couldn’t compensate for it, falling hard.
There was another shot but this one sounded different, it was the harder, flatter crack of a rifle. Don rolled and looked back to see Mason drop, but before the man hit the ground he heard something else, a light plastic clatter. His heart almost stopped at what that could mean just as he realised he couldn’t feel his left hand any more. In panic he looked down and his eyes lit upon the blood covered dead-man’s switch lying a short distance from his fingers, button now standing proud from the face. Mason’s voice replayed in his head as he looked back to his SUV that was still all too close. Five seconds. He had five seconds.
Don forced himself back up and broke into an ungainly sprint, the urgent need to get away overriding everything else, the pain in his leg and arm forgotten. He shouted as he ran, “Fire in the hole! It’s a bomb! Everybody down!”
The screams of panic that had started with the shots intensified and he saw a ripple of movement go through the people being held back by the police and security. He’d long since figured that they’d have to know by now this was not a promotional stunt for a new movie but a real life drama happening right in front of them. Unfortunately that hadn’t really made the LAPD’s job any easier and whilst the crowd had moved back to what was probably a safe distance they’d been impossible to clear in the short time since this had all started. There were more yells now as the officers added their own shouted instructions, trying to pass on his desperate warning.
The concrete pillar he was aiming for was tantalisingly close when his mental timer hit zero and a wave of heat and pressure reached him.
Next chapter - here
no subject
Date: 21 Aug 2010 08:17 (UTC)“You’re nuts.”
“See? Even you think I’m good for the part. Call them back. I think I can ask for more now too, don’t you? Your commission will be bigger and-”
*snorts*
“Hold this.”
“What?” He demanded in shock as the remote was presented to him.
“I can’t fix your leg and hold this at the same time.”
“But,” Don started before the rest of his brain caught up and told him to shut the hell up. It was too late and he saw the change in the man’s face, the bomber was back. The man’s right hand shifted on his leg and pressed against the bullet wound.
“I wouldn’t get any ideas.” Mason warned as he pressed
Oh, I love this whole sequence.
And you shot him again. And again. Yay and yay!!!! And now he's been exploded a bit. Another yay!!
no subject
Date: 21 Aug 2010 08:31 (UTC)no subject
Date: 21 Aug 2010 09:11 (UTC)