Title: Xenophobia
Author: Joolz
Feedback: [email protected]
Rating: R
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Drama
Pairing: none
Season/Spoilers: Season 2, no spoilers
Summary: Don and Charlie’s heritage places them in
danger during a case.
Notes: Assumes the Eppes family is Jewish, though it
isn’t stated in canon.
Lady Ra helped me say what
I wanted to say, only better. I send her
a virtual chocolate cake in thanks! And
thanks to Audra Rose for giving comments, too.
Disclaimer: Not my lovely characters, just playing with
them.
Warnings: Violence, torture, racism and ugly, offensive
language.
~~**~~
Don and his team sat at
the conference table with two other agents, studying the case files laid out
before them. When he looked up and saw
his brother in the doorway, Don said, “Hey, Charlie, come on in.”
The younger man entered.
“I got your message. There’s something I
can help with?” He nodded to Megan,
David and Colby in greeting.
“Yeah.” Don stood
up and indicated the two men in the room that Charlie didn’t already know. “These are Special Agents Philips and
Crenshaw of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. We’ve been assigned to work together on a
case, and it seems ideal for testing the new program.”
Charlie’s face lit with
interest. “Really? That’s great.”
The man who had been
introduced as Philips, mid-forties with sandy blond hair brushed across his
forehead in a style reminiscent of the 70’s, looked up at Charlie, then asked Don, “What program?”
Don began by explaining,
“Charlie here is a mathematician. He’s
consulted for us on a number of cases and his help has been invaluable in providing
leads.” Don noted Charlie’s pleased
smile at the praise and had to smile himself.
He didn’t begrudge his brother the recognition. It hadn’t always been the case, but now he
was proud of Charlie’s accomplishments.
He went on, “Our solve
rate caught the attention of the Directors, and they want other FBI offices and
other departments to get the same kind of help.
Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of people available around the country
who can work with applied mathematics at the same level, and Charlie has his
own work at CalSci so he can’t go flying off every
time someone needs his expertise. We came up with the idea of developing a
computer program that could be used to duplicate some of what he’s been doing
for us.”
Don nodded to Charlie, who
picked up the explanation, “I’ve applied several different mathematical models
to cases depending on the type of analysis needed, so I worked with an FBI programmer
to design a system through which the agent in the field can enter data into the
program, and depending on the variables available the program will select the
most applicable model to employ.”
Charlie had entered
lecture mode and Don thought he looked a little awkward without blackboard and
chalk as visual aids. The younger Eppes
continued, “Of course, the results won’t be anywhere near as good as what I can
do analyzing a case personally, and the conclusions wouldn’t be admissible in
court like some of mine have been, but at this point we’re just looking for a
way to help agents see the possibilities that the numbers can generate. Help them identify relationships and
perspectives they might not have considered, otherwise. The agents will still have to work with the
data to see if it makes sense in their specific context.”
David offered, “Well, an
electronic Charlie will be better than nothing for departments that aren’t
lucky enough to have a real one of their own.”
Charlie grinned again and
Don took over. “The program is still new
and needs to be tested on actual cases. We
need to see if more input variables should be added and whether the system is user
friendly enough for the more non-technical agents to work with. My own doubts are around the output. Will your average agent be able to understand
what the program is telling them? I’m
not sure I would without someone explaining it to me.”
Special Agent Philips
raised his eyebrows in surprise. “And
you want to test this on our case?”
Don nodded. “This is just the kind of situation it was
designed for.” He encouraged, “Why don’t
you fill Charlie in?”
Philips didn’t look
convinced, but acquiesced tiredly.
“Basically, we’re investigating a series of crimes committed over the
last two years, we believe by several white supremacist organizations
throughout southern
“At first we thought they
were unrelated incidents, but slowly began to realize that they were
connected. The link we see between the
organizations is the ‘National Integrity Resistance Movement’,
a neo-Nazi group that we believe is supplying the guns, explosives and training
to the smaller organizations. The thing
is that we can’t prove it. We don’t know
where they’re getting the weapons, how they’re delivering them to their
customers, or how payment is made. We
can’t bust them for their beliefs.”
Don added, “This type of
hate crime is considered domestic terrorism, so it comes under FBI
jurisdiction. Since the ATF has been
working the case from the start, we’ll continue to collaborate.”
Charlie nodded
enthusiastically. “It sounds like just
the thing math can help with.”
Don could almost see a
formula being structured behind his brother’s eyes and reminded him, “Keep in
mind that your involvement will be to test the computer program, not to figure
out the case yourself. That would defeat
the purpose.”
Crenshaw asked, “What
exactly do we need to do?” Younger than
his partner, he was at least 6’3” tall and abnormally thin. His suit coat hung loosely from narrow
shoulders.
Charlie responded, “First
I’ll teach the person you designate how to access the system online and input
data. Then we’ll take it from
there. Oh!” Charlie dug a wallet out of his pocket and
handed each ATF agent a card. “My work
and cell numbers are on there so we can set up meetings.”
Philips studied the
card. “Dr. Charles Eppes. Eppes as in…”
He looked back and forth between Don and Charlie.
Don grinned. “Yeah. We’re brothers. I got the looks and Charlie got the brains.”
Charlie made a face at him
and Megan had the gall to actually snort.
Philips said, “Huh. I thought Eppes was British, but…”
He trailed off again, this
time looking at Charlie, who answered, “We’re Jewish. Eppes can be from the Old English for
Charlie loved this
joke. Don suppressed a groan and settled
for rolling his eyes. Undiscouraged,
Charlie went on, “Literally, it means ‘something’. I figure some Polish ancestor didn’t say his
name clearly and a bureaucrat filled it in as ‘something’ or ‘someone’.” Charlie chuckled to himself while the FBI
agents shook their heads at him fondly.
Returning his gaze to Don,
Philips said, “Okay. Now that I know
you’re Jewish I can see it. You realize
this could be an issue, right? I mean,
these N.I.R.M. guys are extreme neo-Nazi white supremacists and we’re going to
have to deal with them directly.”
The comment surprised
Don. “The Bureau doesn’t provide
suspects with a choice on the ethnic backgrounds of investigating agents. They’ll just have to deal with it.”
Philips held up his
hands. “Hey, I’m just saying. These guys are killers. They’ll happily go after innocent victims,
but if they realize a Jew is threatening them, federal agent or not, there’s
nothing to guarantee they won’t target you.
Agent Sinclair here might have the same problem.” He gestured toward David. “It wouldn’t be an issue for Agent Granger or
the lovely Agent Reeves.” A look passed
between the man and Megan that indicated she wasn’t displeased by the
adjective- not the first look of its kind they’d exchanged.
Don frowned and saw that
Charlie looked worried, too. He stated
bluntly, “We’ll keep that in mind.”
~~**~~
When the meeting broke up
David wasn’t surprised that Megan offered to help the ATF agents, who were
based south of
While Colby went to run
some computer searches, David, Don and Charlie settled in to review the files
more thoroughly. Picking at his Thai
curry carryout, David looked through a series of crimes – shootings, bombings,
intended targets, innocent bystanders injured and killed. Considering what he saw every day, most of it
was the standard ugliness people do to each other. What stood out were the incidents of torture
and mutilation scattered through the files.
These Nazis were seriously twisted.
Charlie kept shifting in
his seat and David got the impression that the files were upsetting him. As well they should. This stuff was a far cry from grading math
papers.
Don must have noticed,
too, because he asked, “Hey, you okay, buddy?”
Charlie grimaced. “Yeah, sure.”
Don reminded him, “You
know you don’t have to go over every detail of this, right? It’s going to be up to the ATF agents to
decide what information is relevant for the Multi-variant Analysis Program.”
The younger man shook his
head, sending the dark curls bouncing.
“No, it helps me to read this. I need to see if they’re missing
important points and if the instructions or the program needs expansion. It’s just,” he frowned, “it’s hard to believe
these things still happen. I mean it’s
not the dark ages. It’s the days of Mars
rovers, genetic engineering and instant knowledge over the internet. How advanced does human kind need to be
before we leave this hate behind?”
Don didn’t have an answer
to that and shrugged apologetically.
David did the same when Charlie looked to him. Of course he’d wondered the same thing, but
it could make you crazy trying to figure it out. He gave Charlie a small smile and said, “The
answer to that, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind.”
The resulting chuckles
relaxed some of the tension. David
thought it might help Charlie to talk about it more, and asked the brothers,
“So we know anti-Semitism is still an issue, but do you guys see much of it?”
Charlie looked at Don, who
pursed his lips in thought. “Some, but not a lot.
When we were kids we went to a pretty diverse school. Nobody was really a majority. Still, once in a while someone would make a
comment. I was never sure if those kids
really believed what they said or if it was just something they heard from
their parents.”
Charlie asked, “Is there a
difference?”
“Maybe
not.” Don cocked his head. “There was a little more of it while I was
playing baseball because there just aren’t that many Jews in the minor leagues. Or majors, for that matter, except for a few
guys like Sandy Koufax and Mike Greenburg.
But usually I had enough buddies around that it didn’t get ugly.”
Charlie was listening to
his brother with rapt attention. Clearly,
this wasn’t something they’d discussed before.
Don continued, “But since
I joined the Bureau I haven’t noticed any discrimination or anything. People are mostly interested in how well you
do your job.”
David asked, “What about
you, Charlie?”
“Well, I maybe got more of
it when we were kids than Don did. It
was just another thing to rag on me about, along with being little and younger
than everyone else and a geek. It never
made sense to me and didn’t enter into the world of mathematics, so I ignored
it. There was one teacher at
Concerned, Don said, “I
didn’t know that happened.”
Charlie shrugged. “We weren’t exactly keeping up with each
others’ lives at that point. It’s
funny,” he went on, “I’ve seen more of it since I’ve been teaching. There’ve been a couple of students who really
resented having me for a teacher but had to take my class for their
degree.” He grinned mischievously. “I made sure they pretended they didn’t hate
me whether they liked it or not. But I
hear about some of the stuff that happens on campus, too. Like last winter there was a display of
seasonal holiday emblems from different religions in the student union. The menorah got vandalized and destroyed.”
Don said, “I didn’t hear
about that, either!”
“It isn’t the kind of
thing the University likes to publicize.
The administration thought it was some kids from a conservative
Christian student group, but they couldn’t prove it so no one was punished.”
David commiserated, “That
sucks.”
“Yeah,” Charlie agreed. “What about you, David? Is racism a big part of your life?”
Whoa! The simple answer to that was yes, yes and
yes, but it was hard to put into words.
“Let’s see. In comparison to how it was before, slavery
and Jim Crow and all, no, it isn’t bad.
But it’s still true that I can pretty much never forget for a minute that
I’m black. From the attitude some people
have to the social conventions even within African-American culture. There are unwritten rules about who I should or shouldn’t be friends with, who I should or
shouldn’t date, etc. You don’t have to
follow the rules, but there are consequences either way.”
Don and Charlie were
listening to him attentively, and it felt weird. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a
conversation this open about racism, except for the occasional bitch session
with black friends. It was pretty much a
taboo subject except when discussing foreign wars. It was kind of cool to hear that these white
guys experienced it too just because of a cultural difference. Maybe this was a good thing to come out of an
ugly case.
“And professionally, it’s
kind of confusing,” he went on. “I try
to focus on developing my personal abilities to the highest degree, but I’m
never sure if I’m being held back because of bigotry, or advanced because of PC
minority policies and guilt, or on merit.
I just try to get on with it and not worry about it too much.”
Of course it was way more
complicated than that, but he didn’t think they wanted to be there all night.
The skin around Don’s eyes
crinkled with humor. “Yeah, there’s
nothing much you can do but get on with it, is there? It seems like everybody’s got something. Megan will have issues around being a woman,
and Colby…” He trailed off uncertainly.
Now David smiled. “Colby has to overcome the assumption that
he’s a brainless football-playing military goon. Uphill battle all the way, man.”
They all laughed and Don
cleared his throat. “So, we’d better get
back to work.”
They returned to the
files, which were just as unpleasant as before, but it felt different now that
he was more aware of sitting there with friends. That made it easier.
~~**~~
They decided to move the
whole operation down to
As Don was able to talk to
more of the ATF agents who had worked on the case over the last couple years he
was struck by how many times they’d come up with good leads only to have them
turn into dead ends. The white
supremacists’ paranoid security really worked for them. It was hard to get undercover agents anywhere
near the action and they didn’t leave evidence trails. Don could understand Philips’ frustration
with the case and hoped they would get a break soon.
A Jewish book store in
downtown
The terror of the elderly
couple who owned the store was hard for him to deal with. It seemed like this one incident, bad as it
was, was magnified by the couple’s lifetime of similar experiences. Don was determined to make it possible for
these people to live without fear.
When Charlie arrived, it
was a whole other situation to deal with.
After inputting the data the resulting analysis hadn’t made any sense,
something that Charlie took personally.
Don had the dubious pleasure of having to calm down the offended
scientist.
As Charlie paced, shaking,
cursing and otherwise abusing the printout, Don said, “Take it easy,
Charlie. This is an experimental program. That’s the point of doing tests like this, to
find the bugs and fix them. It’ll get
better.”
Charlie turned to him and
waved the printout emphatically. “But
this shouldn’t have happened. All the
simulations at least gave something close to an answer, but this is
gibberish. It must be input error.”
Don raised his eyebrows in
surprise. “Input error? If it’s as messed up as you say it is, we aren’t talking about a typo or two. If the output is that far off, then yeah,
there must be a problem with the system.
Maybe with how the variables are assigned numeric values or something.
It just needs adjusting.”
Charlie’s eyes narrowed
angrily. He gritted out, “There’s
nothing wrong with the program. It’s
something else and I’m going to prove it.”
Don sighed. “Look, it’s not worth making yourself crazy
over.” He knew Charlie wasn’t hearing a
word he was saying.
His brother ranted on,
“I’ll just have to go back through everything.
The main server keeps a record of all entries. I’ll check over all the input.”
“Charlie, it took Crenshaw
two whole days to enter the data.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Charlie sat down on a chair in Don’s borrowed
office and leaned forward. “Don, we need
to stop these guys. They don’t want to
bust the organizations that are actually committing the crimes until they have
evidence against the ringleader.
Okay. But the longer this goes
on, the more innocent people are going to be hurt or killed. I know this program can help, and I have to
find out why it isn’t.”
Don nodded resignedly. The potential for more injuries was bothering
Don, too. And when Charlie was this sure
of himself, he was usually onto something.
“Yeah, all right. I’ll get you set up with a terminal.” He pointed a finger at his brother. “But I’m going to make you eat and sleep, so
don’t think you can get out of it.”
Charlie relaxed. “Thank you.”
Later, Don stood watching
Charlie work, sometimes hunting and pecking, sometimes fingers flying, but
never looking away from the screen.
Charlie was submerged for the duration.
Agent Crenshaw moved to
stand beside Don and asked, “What’s he doing.”
“He thinks there’s a
problem with the program and is trying to find it.”
The other man huffed a half-laugh.
“There’s a problem with the program, all right. It’s too damn complicated. There’s no field agent that’s going to be
happy spending all that time doing data entry only to have the computer spit
out garbage. It’ll just be another
useless procedure that gets ordered by the brass and ends up being a waste of
time. You could save everyone a lot of
pain and drop the thing now.”
Don answered carefully, “I
think we’ll just let him work on it for a while. The program could be a lot more useful than
you think.”
Crenshaw said again, “He’s
wasting his time.”
“We’ll see.”
Don expected people to
doubt the program. People resisted
change, period. And most of them hadn’t
had the benefits proven to them the way Don and his team had. Still, Crenshaw was awfully adamant. Maybe there was something to the input error
theory after all.
~~**~~
David was glad that they
were finally going to get out into the field.
They would be going in teams to pay visits to some of the groups that
were suspected of carrying out the attacks, hoping to shake something
loose. He would be accompanying Don
while Megan and Colby teamed up with ATF agents.
He leaned on the edge of a
desk and watched the mini-drama playing out in front of him. Don had just interrupted numbers-boy to tell
him they were leaving.
Charlie stood up and
grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair.
“I’ll go with you.”
Don got that
you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look on his face and said, “Ah, I don’t think so.”
“But Don, the whole
problem could be inaccuracy in variable definition. If I can see first hand what these
organizations are like I might come up with something that’s been overlooked.”
These brotherly face-offs
were always entertaining. Both men were
competent and capable – to the extreme – when on their own. But get them together and they would sometimes
revert back to big brother/ little brother dynamics. Don’s voice would take on a whining, annoyed
tone and Charlie would pout and cajole.
David could just imagine them arguing about whether or not Don was going
to take little Charlie to the corner store for an ice cream cone.
The elder Eppes argued,
“Haven’t you been paying attention?
These are violent anti-Semitic terrorist organizations. We’re going to be knocking on their doors. Do you think I would expose you to something
like that?”
Charlie responded
stubbornly, “You’re going.”
“I’m an FBI agent.”
“You’re Jewish, too.”
“But Charlie, I can pass
if I need to. You can’t. One look at you and everyone knows you’re
Jewish. It would be stupid for you to go
out there.”
“David’s going,” he protested,
flinging a hand out in David’s direction.
David tried to look
innocent as he awaited the response. He
wasn’t disappointed.
Don spoke slowly, as to
someone with a learning disability.
“David. Is. An. FBI. Agent. He’s trained
for this and can handle himself. You’re
a mathematician. You should stay here
and do what you’re good at. That’s how
you can help. You can ask us all the
questions you want when we get back, how about that?”
Charlie’s shoulders
slumped in defeat. Negotiation
over. “All
right.” He was visibly biting his
lip to keep from saying anything else.
Don stood up straighter,
enjoying his triumph. “Okay, and I’m
leaving instructions with an agent to make sure you take breaks every two
hours. You know, to drink water, pee, basic
human function type things.”
That dangerous look came
over Charlie’s face – he could be scary when he wanted to – and David decided
to intervene. He swept over and
manhandled Don toward the door with a cheerful, “See you later, Charlie!”
The Glare followed them
until they were safely out in the hall.
“Gee, Don, you like to
live dangerously, don’t you? You know
he’s going to get revenge, right?”
Don laughed, “Sure, but it
keeps me on my toes. If I can handle
Charlie, I can handle anyone.”
David thought that might
be true.
~~**~~
On their first visit, to
the pretentious White Knights headquarters, Don and David’s questions were met
with stony silence. Don wore his
sunglasses and was casually threatening while David prodded with barbed comments. Nothing.
It was the second visit
where things went to shit. The Purity
Defense League was located in a wood-frame house set back from the road in a
small, rural town. Seconds after Don and
David stepped into the living room, two men entered behind them with baseball
bats. Before either man could respond,
the bats hit the backs of their heads, and with an explosion of pain it was all
over.
~~**~~
Don’s head was pounding
and his vision blurry when he opened his eyes.
Moving took the pain to jackhammer level and he couldn’t stop a groan.
He heard David’s voice
beside him and felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Take it easy, Don. Looks like you’ve got a concussion.”
Don squinted up and
David’s face came into marginally clearer focus. He mumbled, “Did we blow it, or what?”
David agreed, “Yeah, you
could say that.”
“Where are we?”
“We’re in some kind of
cell, inside a barn or warehouse. Basement, maybe. There’s
not much to see – some tools and it looks like a furnace over in the corner.”
Don forced himself to sit
up, grateful for David’s steadying hand.
When he peered around he couldn’t see anything other than what his
teammate had said. It was a grey,
nondescript kind of place.
He asked, “Any way out?”
“Not that I can see. One wall of the cell is against an outside wall,
but that’s solid cinder block, and the rest of it is metal bars. No windows.
There’s a solid combination lock that I can’t break.”
Don nodded slowly. They would have to keep trying to find a
weakness. The other agents knew what
visits they were planning to make today, but by the time they realized Don and
David were missing and found some evidence of what had happened, it could be too late.
They weren’t going to get any help from the suspects.
“Give me a hand.”
With a boost from David,
Don managed to stand and stay standing, holding onto the bars while his head
spun and his stomach gave new meaning to the word ‘queasy’. Eventually he was able to notice that their
jackets, badges, guns and cell phones were missing. He asked, “You all right?”
“Yeah. Got a
headache, but my skull must be thicker than yours. I don’t think it’s serious.”
“Good.”
Don made a slow circuit
around the cell. He didn’t see any
obvious way out either. He tested the
door hinges while David spun the combination lock hoping to get lucky.
Before long the door to
the room opened and several men came in.
One, as white and bland as the rest, stepped forward and introduced
himself.
“I’m Commander Kearns of
the National Integrity Resistance Movement, and you’re the enemy. You’re only alive because something special
is planned for you, don’t get used to it.”
Well, that was blunt.
Don said, “You don’t think
you’re going to get away with kidnapping federal agents do you?” He preferred to bypass the death threats for
the time being. “You just made the
mistake that’s going to put you all in prison for a long, long time. That is unless you get the death
penalty. You’d better rethink this.”
The man gave an ugly
laugh. “Save it. We’ve gotten away with killing kikes and
niggers for years. This won’t be any
different. Whether it’s slow or fast,
you’ll die just like the others.”
There wasn’t a lot to say
to that, and Don glanced at David beside him.
The dark man’s eyes were narrowed and his face serious with an
expression Don recognized as dangerously angry.
Don was angry too, sure, but he knew what these guys were capable of and
mostly he was scared.
He didn’t show it, though,
and challenged, “That’s some tough talk from the safety of the other side of
the bars. Face me one-on-one and we’ll
see who’s better.”
David growled at that but
the other men just laughed.
And indeed it wasn’t long
before the door opened again. Don’s
stomach dropped through the floor when Charlie walked in.
~~**~~
Charlie didn’t suspect a
thing until he noticed that he was surrounded by a group of hostile looking men
who were on one side of the bars while Don and David were on the other
side. He stopped in confusion.
“Don?”
Agent Philips shoved him
from behind so that he staggered farther into the room.
Charlie asked, “What’s
going on?” The look on Don’s face was a
clue that it was nothing good.
Philips grabbed his arm
and dragged him toward the enclosure holding his brother and friend.
Don shouted, “What the
hell is this, Philips? Are you one of
them? What’s Charlie doing here?”
Flanked
by men with guns, one of the guys who had already been in the room bent over
the lock and then pulled the cell door open. After
taking the cell phone from Charlie’s jacket pocket, Philips shoved Charlie in,
saying, “Not only am I one of them, Special
Agent Eppes,” pronouncing the name with a sneer, “I’m one of the
leaders. And your precious brother is
here for the same reason you are. To die.”
Charlie didn’t have a
chance to react to any of this before Don grabbed him and pushed him farther
into the cell, placing his body between Charlie and the other men. There was blood on the collar of Don’s
shirt.
The cell door was shut and
locked once more.
Don said, “I can’t believe
this! You know better than anyone that
you can’t get away with this!”
Philips snorted a
laugh. “No, I know better than anyone
that we can get away with it.” He walked over to the wall and took down a
metal rod. As he moved toward the
furnace he continued, “I have a lot of experience making sure of it.” He opened a hatch on the furnace and stuck
the rod into the gas flames.
Don turned to Charlie,
“How did he get you here?”
Still stunned, Charlie
replied, “He said you had something you wanted me to see and that he was
supposed to bring me to you. I didn’t
have any reason to doubt him.” With
sudden realization, he turned to Philips.
“Hey, lots of people saw me leave with you.”
Returning to stand in
front of the bars the ATF agent shrugged.
“I told them I was taking you back to your hotel. Too bad that particular hotel doesn’t have a
security camera out front. That’ll make
it hard for us to figure out why you never made it to your room.”
David spoke up, “Philips,
you’ve gotta know that our team won’t stop until they
find us.”
The man nodded, “Oh, they
will find you. I plan to be there to
comfort the lovely Agent Reeves when your bodies are discovered mangled and
broken. I’m sure she’ll be distraught
and need a shoulder to cry on. And it’ll
be such a shame when any forensic evidence they find turns out to be corrupted
or inconclusive. I’ve been heading this
investigation for a reason, Eppes. It’s
so that nothing can ever be proven. No
one will suspect I had anything to do with it.
I’m that good.”
Shaking his head, Don
stepped closer to the bars and asked more quietly, “But why? Tell me why you would do this? You swore to protect and defend this country
the same as I did.”
“That’s right. I am defending this country. You,” his glare took in all three prisoners,
“are exactly why the government can’t be trusted to do
it anymore. It’s been infiltrated at all
levels by dirty foreigners and coloreds.
Firewood, shit skins, squints, burritos, and dune coons promoted above
real Americans. They’re taking over.”
Charlie wasn’t sure what
all the terms referred to, but the hostility in the ATF agent’s voice made him
sick to his stomach. This was ugly.
Philips ranted on, “And if
it weren’t bad enough they’ve taken over the government, they bring university
intellectuals in to screw things up even more.”
He glared at Charlie. “I’m
thinking that this is just the start of taking our work to the next level. If we’re going to restore the country we have
to take back the government. We must
purify the foundation of our way of life, the agencies that enforce our laws
and culture. Starting
with the FBI.”
Charlie stared
incredulously as the other men nodded and murmured in agreement.
Don must have felt the
same way, because he said, sounding dumbfounded, “That’s just crazy.”
Philips looked
unconcerned. “You say that, but we’re
the ones holding all the cards, aren’t we?
It may take a while restore things to the way they should be, but my
brothers and I are in it for the long haul.”
He grinned. “May
as well get started.”
Looking back and forth
between the prisoners, Philips asked, “Who goes first?” He focused on Charlie, who started to
hyperventilate. “My first thought was to
start with the junior hymie
and make you watch while we punish him for his sins.” He turned to Don, “But it might make a better
impact to begin with you, Agent Eppes, and you can know that everything we do
to you will happen to baby brother next.
And I’ve really been looking forward to putting you in your place since
they put you in charge over me. The
nigger goes last. He’s the strongest and
will take a good, long time to die.”
Charlie looked at Don,
whose jaw was set and eyes blazing. Don
turned and took Charlie and David’s arms, drawing them close.
“We hold on as long as we
can. Someone will come for us. All right?”
Charlie shook his
head. No, it wasn’t all right. He whimpered, “Don?”
His brother cupped
Charlie’s cheek in the palm of his hand and looked at him with warm brown
eyes. “Be strong. Love you, Charlie.”
Before he could respond,
men were pulling Don away and out of the cell.
Charlie found himself
gripping the bars as Don’s hands were cuffed and attached to a chain hanging
from the ceiling in the middle of the room.
The chain jerked up and Don’s arms were stretched over his head.
“No! Don’t!
Let him go. Please!” Charlie’s cries were ignored.
Some of the men grabbed
the collar of Don’s white shirt and began tearing it off. Soon Don’s torso and arms were bare, muscles
bunched under his skin by the unnatural position. One man brought several metal bars back from
the rack on the wall and handed them out.
Don snarled at Philips,
“You’re gonna rot in hell.”
The other man
laughed. “No, that’ll be you,
Christ-killer.” He nodded to the other
men. “Go ahead boys, have fun.”
A bar swung through the
air and connected with Don’s ribcage with a thwack. Don grunted and tipped his head back, eyes closed, but didn’t otherwise respond. Another bar hit his back and then another his stomach.
Charlie couldn’t believe
it. He couldn’t process this in his
head. He always knew Don’s job put him
in danger and had always worried. He’d
been present when there had been gunfire and explosions and other abhorrent
things. But he’d never before been exposed
to this type of violence - one person personally attacking another. Or in this case six people
attacking his brother.
It seemed unreal, but hurt
at the same time – hurt him deeply inside each time the metal hit Don’s
flesh. He was barely aware of the tears
spilling down his cheeks as the beating continued. Charlie pleaded “Oh, god, please stop! Stop hurting Don!”
Suddenly David pulled him
away from the bars and turned Charlie to face him.
“Charlie, don’t. It makes it harder for Don to take this if he
hears that you’re upset. Try to stay
calm, for his sake.”
“Upset?” Charlie
yelled. “Calm? They’re killing my brother! I heard bones crack! We have to make them stop.”
David shook him. “We can’t, and begging just makes them feel
more powerful. It encourages them. Do you understand?”
Charlie took several deep
breaths. This wasn’t the classroom or a
consulting job where everybody respected him, where people listened to him.
This ugly scene was Don and David’s world at its worst, and for once he didn’t
envy his brother the prestigious job.
Charlie wasn’t trained to
cope with this, but he had to try. He wanted
to do the right thing, even if it seemed impossible.
He nodded and David let
him turn back toward where the men had dropped the weapons and were hitting Don
with their fists. Don was panting and
grimacing, not entirely successful in stopping sounds of pain and reaction from
escaping.
Charlie watched silently, teeth
gritted, eyes wide.
He felt every blow as though it were his body taking the abuse. It didn’t seem possible that his strong, cool
big brother, invincible in Charlie’s eyes, could be beaten so badly, but it was
happening.
Other memories of that
body washed through his mind: lifting
him up when he’d been too small to look at the city through the view-scopes
outside Griffiths Observatory; wrestling with him in the back yard after school;
the heat of it near, but not touching except for the hand on the back of
Charlie’s neck, during their mother’s funeral; the impact of it against his own
as Don blocked Charlie on the basketball court.
His fear for Don was in a very real way fear for himself, too. Charlie had never been able to accept
anyone’s touch as easily as he did his brother’s. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much
he depended on Don’s physical presence and strength to feel connected to the
world. That safety was slipping away as
he watched.
After several long minutes
Philips said, “Enough!” and the men stepped back. Don was hanging from the chain attached to
his wrists, his head lolling to one side.
A man went up and spoke
into Don’s face. “Not such a tough-guy
now, are you, kike?”
Don opened his eyes and
looked at the man blearily. He said, his
voice weak, “Prison,
The man grinned and poked
a particularly bright red bruise on Don’s chest, making his victim gasp.
Don turned his head slightly
and sought Charlie. Their eyes met, and
emotion welled up in Charlie. He loved
his brother so much, he would do anything to stop
this, to be the one to protect Don. If
only he knew what to do.
The lull in the action
didn’t last long. Charlie saw Philips
walking back towards Don with a rod fresh from the furnace, glowing orange at
the tip. He could see that it was
different, with a flat disc on the end.
Philips stood in front of
Don and showed him the object. Don’s
eyes widened and Philips said, “Just one of the little things I particularly
enjoy. Branding the animal so the world
can see it for what it is.”
He pointed the thing at
Charlie, and he could see that there were spaces cut out of the disc, the
remaining metal forming a Star of David.
He hadn’t thought he could feel sicker.
He’d seen this in the files, read what had been done to men with that
implement. He realized that this alone
tied Philips directly to at least three murders. And now it was turned towards Don.
His feet barely touching
the floor, Don tried to shrink away from the hot metal. Two men stepped in and held him steady as
Philips moved closer.
The ATF agent stopped and
looked Don in the face, then up at his bound wrists.
“Let him down. I want him on the floor for this.”
Someone released Don’s
wrists and he collapsed. But then he
didn’t. On the way down he rolled into
the legs of one of the men, knocking him over.
Don scrambled backwards towards the wall where more metal bars hung, but
didn’t get there. One of the men threw
himself on top of Don and slammed his back to the floor. Don swung his fist at the man and dislodged
him, but then two more took his place.
Don fought hard, like his
life depended on it, which it probably did.
His fists connected with his attackers in wild fury, but they landed two
or three blows to each one of Don’s until Don started to weaken. Again, Charlie could do nothing but watch,
biting his lip, as the men beat Don. One
of them hit Don’s head against the cement floor and he went still, looking
unconscious.
They dragged him back to
where Philips waited patiently with his still hot branding iron and pushed him
onto his belly, holding him down at the shoulders and legs.
Philips looked down and
asked casually, “Why do you resist, Jew?
This is your mark.”
He lowered it and pressed
it against Don’s back, low on the left side.
Panic gripped Charlie and
he couldn’t stand it anymore. He shouted
incoherently and flung himself at the bars, ready to smash himself against them. Anything rather than stand and watch.
Before he could injure
himself David’s arms wrapped around him from behind and held his struggling
body immobile. He couldn’t move, but he
could see. He could see the hot iron
pressing deeper into Don’s flesh. He
could see Don shifting weakly in protest and hear his moans. He could hear the sound of human skin
sizzling and smell it.
There was a mathematical
design in the vapor rising from Don’s back – a swirl that broke into smaller
matching swirls. His mind automatically
mapped and measured the configuration, the fractal design, and predicted the
growth pattern of the ghostly spiral.
Charlie held onto the macabre purity of the composition, a focal point
of calm and order in a world of chaos.
It went on forever. The burn deepened and charred around the
edges. Don was making a mewling noise
but had stopped fighting the men holding him down. Finally Philips lifted the iron away, then bent over to inspect his handiwork.
“Not bad. We’ll have to let this heat up again before
we continue. But that’s okay, we can savor the whole experience even longer that
way.”
He replaced the iron in
the flame, and as he was walking back the door opened. A woman stuck her head in, her gaze sweeping
over the scene before her. She said to
Philips, “Sir, you have a phone call.”
The man sighed and said,
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
After he left, the men
holding Don down released him, but he didn’t move. One of them stood and kicked him in the
side. “Hey, you awake in there? We should get some smelling salts. I’d hate for the pig to miss anything.”
Another man laughed,
“That’s good! The
Jewish pig. You know that’s why
they don’t eat pork, right? Because the pig’s their relative.” They laughed again.
A bright six-pointed star
stood out on the pale skin of Don’s back.
Charlie had gone slack in
David’s arms and watched all this, shock making it seem far away and fuzzy. David hefted him up a bit and said, “Come on,
Charlie. You gotta
be strong. That’s what Don said,
remember?”
Charlie mumbled, “Let me
go.”
“What?”
More clearly, “Let me
go. Now!”
The arms released him and
Charlie lunged toward a corner of the cell, barely making it before he was on
hands and knees retching. It seemed like
his insides were trying to come out through his throat, but the discomfort was
almost welcome. It brought him back to
himself.
He felt a warm hand pat
his back. David said quietly, “Take it
easy.”
Charlie snarled,
a sound he didn’t think he’d ever made before and shied away from the touch. Then something inside him broke and he leaned
into David’s chest and let the other man smooth back the hair that had fallen
into his face. This was just a small
respite, a pause before the horror continued, and Charlie needed to conserve
his energy.
After a too brief moment the
outer door opened and Charlie was on his feet again, wiping his mouth with the
back of his hand. He watched Philips
come back into the room, and knew what it was to hate. If he could, he would kill the man gladly,
and that scared him. He knew that no
matter what, Don wouldn’t want him to become someone like that. He didn’t think he could control it, though.
Philips said to the other
men, “Put him back in the cell. I have
to go out and he can wait until I get back.”
The man who had taunted
Don before leered, “I’m sure we can keep them entertained without killing them
while you’re gone.”
Philips shook his
head. “I want to be here for the whole
thing.” He looked down at Don with
disgust written over his face. “This is
personal.”
The other man didn’t look
happy, but said, “Yes, sir.”
They opened the cell door
and dragged Don’s unresponsive body inside, dumping him on the floor. Charlie was beside him in an instant,
surprised that the skin under his hand was warm. He didn’t know how Don could endure all that
and live, but he had.
“Don,” Charlie said
tentatively.
David knelt beside
them. “I need to check him over. Okay?”
Charlie nodded and leaned
back, giving the agent space to work.
David ran his hands along
Don’s sides and back, skirting the inflamed area around the burn. He carefully turned Don over, letting Charlie
support him so that the burn didn’t come into contact with the floor.
The men hadn’t focused on
Don’s face when they had been beating him, but there was a bruise forming where
his cheek had been pressed to the concrete.
There were a variety of bruises on his torso, some half concealed by the
mat of fine hair that spread across the top of Don’s chest, above the nipples.
David grunted as he
palpated Don’s left ribcage, then explained, “I think
he has a couple of broken ribs. I can’t
tell if there’s any internal bleeding.
It’s not too bad, though.”
Charlie looked at him
incredulously.
“I mean, it could be
worse.”
David started to turn Don
over onto his stomach again, but Charlie said, “Let me hold him.”
They arranged the injured
man so that his right side was leaning into Charlie’s chest with neither the
burn nor the broken ribs touching anything.
Charlie felt the weight in
his arms. He didn’t think he’d ever held
his brother like this. Don felt warm and
solid and incredibly fragile at the same time.
Charlie lowered his face and rested his cheek on the top of Don’s head. The thick, dark hair was surprisingly soft.
The door opened and Charlie
realized that the men had already left.
A woman came in and started gathering the metal rods that were scattered
on the floor.
As she returned them to
the rack along the wall, Charlie said quietly, “Ma’am? Could we have some water, please?”
The woman turned and
stared at them. After a moment she said,
“You think that because I’m a woman I’ll be sympathetic. I’m not.
You’re all animals and you deserve whatever happens to you.”
Withdrawing into himself, Charlie’s eyes followed her movements until she
left the room, but he barely saw her.
She had ceased to be a person to him and was just another abstract enemy,
a flawed equation be disregarded.
Don stirred in his arms
and released a small moan.
David touched Don’s
shoulder and said his name softly. Don’s
body stiffened and his voice slurred, “Charlie?”
“I’m here, Don. I’ve got you.”
Don relaxed again. “Y’ ‘right?”
Charlie snorted and tried
to keep his voice light and teasing. “He
asks if I’m all right. Oy vay, Donny. I’m
a hundred percent. Why wouldn’t I be. How about you?”
Don groaned, “Twenty. Maybe.”
“Twenty’s good. We’ll take twenty. Hey, don’t try to move.”
Don shook his head against
Charlie’s shoulder. “Got t’ sit up. Help.”
Since his brother was
going to make the effort no matter what he said, Charlie helped maneuver Don
into a sitting position, where David supported him gingerly around the
shoulders.
The effort left Don
panting, his face pale and pinched, but after a moment he said, sounding
stronger, “Thanks, David, for looking after Charlie.”
“That’s okay, boss. I knew that’s what you’d
would want me to do.”
Don nodded and looked at
Charlie, his face tense with pain. “Hey, math genius.
Know anything about combination locks?”
Charlie sat up
straighter. “Combination locks?”
Don tilted his head toward
the cell door.
Charlie scrambled to his
feet and hurried to the door. When he
peeked through the bars about a million pounds of weight slid off his
shoulders. He turned to the others and
smiled.
Don’s lips twitched. “Knew you could do it.”
David said, “Wait, Charlie
can open combination locks?”
Don didn’t answer, so
Charlie responded as he inspected the mechanism. “It’s just applied mathematics, really.”
“Of course it is,” David
said blandly.
Charlie felt like a new
man. This was something he could
do. Something he could do to help Don
and David and himself. He began working the
dial through the sequence.
He could talk and do this
at the same time, so he began to explain.
“The lock has forty numbers on the dial and the combination is a series of three numbers. That makes 40x40x40=64,000
possible combinations. If you had to try all 64,000 combinations it would take
you approximately two hundred hours.”
David interjected, “But we
don’t have that kind of time.”
“Of
course not. As it turns out, the way these locks are
manufactured you don’t have to be nearly that accurate. On the first two numbers, you can be off by
one. If the number is 10, you can use 11 or maybe 9 and it will still work. A
couple of numbers you can miss on either side, but most you can only miss on
one side, high or low. So we can just use even numbers, or just odd numbers,
and still open the lock.”
He felt the roughness of
the dial as he turned it. It wasn’t the
highest quality lock, which was good for them.
“That gives us 20x20x20=8,000,
or about twenty-five hours. And the
third number can be even less accurate. There are only about thirteen or
fourteen spots on the dial for the third number. But that doesn't matter,
because you don't have to have any clue at all. You can keep experimenting all
around the dial until you find the third number. So that is 20x20=400
combinations. It takes a bit longer to try one of these two-number
combinations, as you have to experiment with the third number, maybe half a
minute. So instead of 200 hours, we end up with 200 minutes, or over 3 hours.”
David, still holding Don
upright, raised his eyebrows. “That’s
better, but we may not have that much time, either.”
Charlie shook his
head. “We won’t need it. You’ll hardly ever have to go through all the
combinations before you find the right one.”
“I trust you Charlie, go
for it.”
Don agreed. “That’s my brother.”
~~**~~
It took Charlie an hour to
open the lock. During that time Don
slept a bit against David’s shoulder. It
felt strange to David to be holding his boss, but it was the kind of thing you
did for a fellow agent in trouble. Especially one that had just exhibited uncommon bravery and valor. David was proud of his teammate and friend.
When the cell door clicked
open Charlie turned to them with a beaming smile, one that David had been
worried he would never see again after today.
He jostled Don’s shoulders gently to rouse him.
“Don, wake up. Time to get out of here.”
Don blinked at him.
Charlie knelt beside
them. “Should we lift him together?”
“Yeah. Easy does
it.”
The moan that Don tried to
suppress and the green tinge to his face made David wonder if this Eppes was
going to lose his lunch too, but after wobbling for a minute Don seemed to
stabilize. David passed the injured man
to Charlie, who pulled his brother’s right arm around his shoulders and grabbed
a belt loop for more support. It was
hard to know how to hold onto Don with the burn and broken ribs, but they
worked it out.
David went to the wall
rack and took down two of the heavy metal rods, refusing to think about what
they had just been used for. After
hesitating a moment he secured one through Charlie’s belt. While he didn’t think the young man would
have a clue how to use it to defend himself, he should
have the option.
Charlie asked,
“David? Do you think I should give Don
my jacket?”
Looking at the battered,
exposed skin, David considered it. “Let’s hold off on that. It would probably be better if nothing touched
the burn just now.” He was worried about
infection. “If he gets cold we can do it
later.”
Don, hanging on Charlie’s
neck, complained, “I’m right here, you know.”
“Yeah,” Charlie allowed,
“But David’s in charge of getting us out of here. You’re just along for the ride.”
“Okay,” Don agreed
tiredly.
With that vote of
confidence from his charges, David focused on making sure he actually did get
them out. Cracking the door to the room
that held their cage, he found a set of darkened stairs leading up. So they were probably in a basement after all.
“Stay close,” he advised
the others as they started up the stairs carefully, freezing after each creak
or thump.
There was another closed
door at the top, and David peeked out. It
seemed to be some kind of manufacturing workshop. It was a large, open space housing a number
of big pieces of machinery. He didn’t
know what it was for and didn’t care.
Motioning the other men to
stay just inside the doorway, David moved cautiously into the room. Hearing voices to the left, he crept in that
direction. Just around a corner in a
long hall were a cheap plastic table and chairs like a break area, with a man
and a woman sitting drinking coffee. The
man had been with
Checking the area, David
didn’t see any other people. Stepping
around the corner, he swung the bar and hit the startled man right across the
bridge of the nose. As he toppled to the
floor, the woman stood up and opened her mouth to scream. David didn’t hesitate. He swung his weapon back and struck her right
under the ear. The whole thing had taken
seconds and had been nearly silent.
David went back to the
doorway and waved the two nervously waiting men to follow. He led them past the two unconscious people,
or dead, he didn’t care which, without a word.
A little farther along they reached an exterior door, but there was a problem. Several men were standing outside in the
parking lot smoking cigarettes. There
was no way David could take them all. He
decided to continue down the hall and look for another way out.
Passing what looked like
several office doors, they came to the end of the passageway. There was a short flight of stairs down that
ended in an emergency exit. David
inspected the door and identified the wires that would cause the alarm to sound
if it were opened. He unfastened the lid
of the box they fed into and carefully disconnected them.
He had to shove the door
forcefully with his shoulder to get it to open.
For an emergency exit, it wasn’t kept in very good repair. He was only able to open it a few inches, and
it scraped noisily on the pavement outside.
David looked at it
critically and was about to throw himself against it again when Don said,
“Wait. All of us.”
Charlie shook his
head. “I’ll help, but you just sit and
rest.”
“No, I’ll help too. We need the weight. We can’t take too long at this. Better to get it open with one shove and be
out.”
David reluctantly agreed
and the three men aligned themselves with their shoulders to the door. Don had his hands on David’s shoulders for
support.
The black agent counted,
“One, two, three!”
They threw themselves
against the door and it shrieked loudly, opening another six inches.
Don gasped and leaned
against the door. Charlie paled, and
David could see that the burn on Don’s back had broken open and was bleeding
freely. There was no time to deal with
it now, though.
“Come on,” David urged,
“we can fit.”
David squeezed through
first, his broad chest barely making it.
He took Don’s hand and helped him stumble out next, followed by Charlie,
who had no trouble.
They were out. David didn’t want to stick around and see if the
noise had alerted their captors. Toward
the front of the building there was the parking lot and a drive that led to a
road. It was open space with no
cover. Toward the back of the building
there was a scraggly forest. Not great
cover, but the better option.
He led them toward the
trees. Don was leaning heavily on
Charlie and it was obviously an effort of will for him to stay conscious, much
less walking. When they were out of
sight of the building they stopped to rest.
“Charlie,” David asked, “do
you know where we are?”
“Yes. We’re just outside of Jamul. The road in front is
Not far normally, but it
would be a long way for Don.
“Okay, let’s head that
direction,” David order, “but stay out of sight of the road as much as possible. We’ll take it slow. Say if you need to stop.”
Charlie nodded in
acknowledgement, but Don seemed pretty out of it. David hoped he would stay on his feet,
because he would be hard to carry.
They moved through the
underbrush, David keeping watch around them at all times. They hit a few open places where they were
visible to the road, but seemed to get past them without being spotted. Up ahead, David saw a gas station. As they got closer, he could see a payphone
at the side of the building. It would be
a risk, but they needed help. Charlie
was visibly struggling under his brother’s ever increasing weight.
They maneuvered to the
back of the station, and David looked around the corner carefully. He could hear a radio and voices from inside
the station, but no one was in sight. He
was about to head around toward the phone when something occurred to him.
He turned to Charlie. “You have a quarter on you?”
The young man’s head
shook, the curls now plastered to his head with sweat.
“No. Aren’t you going to dial 911?”
“No. We don’t know who we can trust here. I need to call Megan and Colby.”
“I have a calling card,”
Charlie suggested. “I remember the
number.”
David didn’t like it, but
he stayed hidden with Don while Charlie hurried to the phone booth. After punching in a long series of numbers,
he signaled David, who left Don leaning against the building and approached the
phone booth. Charlie passed him the
phone and moved to rejoin his brother.
Hearing the dial tone,
David put in Megan’s cell phone number by memory. When she answered he sighed with relief and
sunk to the floor, hoping to disguise his presence somewhat.
“Megan, thank god.”
“David! Where are you?”
“Megan,
who’s with you?”
“Just Colby. We were
looking for you, why?”
“It’s a long story, but
you can’t trust the people you thought you could. We need you to come and get us. Don’s badly injured and we have to get out of
here now.”
“Where are you? We can call backup.”
“No, you don’t
understand. We can’t trust anyone.” He didn’t have time to waste, but she needed
to get the picture. “It was
Philips. He’s part of the main neo-Nazi
group we’ve been investigating. There’s
no telling who else is involved.”
There was a pause as she
took that information in. “All right. Where are
you?”
David gave her
directions. “We’re going to hide in the
trees. Drive slowly and we’ll come
out. How soon can you be here?”
“Should
be… half an hour.”
“Okay, hurry. And be careful. They probably know we’ve escaped by now and
everyone you see should be considered dangerous.”
“Understood. David, be
careful yourself.”
“Can’t
wait to see your shining faces. Gotta go.”
Between them, David and
Charlie had to practically carry Don farther up the road. They settled behind some trees where they
could flag Megan and Colby down quickly.
Several cars went by, but
David couldn’t see who was in them. If
they were spotted, he decided to run, trying to draw the bastards away from the
Eppes. He hoped it wouldn’t be
necessary, because it was a bad plan.
David turned to look at
where the brothers were sitting, Charlie with one arm tightly around Don, who
appeared to be unconscious again.
Charlie was using a piece of his shirt to clean the blood off of Don’s
back, being careful to avoid touching the burn.
He was completely focused, his eyes hard and
mouth a firm line. David thought it was
his way of dealing with what was happening – keep busy and freak out
later. That was David’s own strategy,
anyhow.
“Charlie,” he said quietly. When the young man looked up he affirmed,
“You’re doing great. Don will be all
right.”
“He’s hot. I’m afraid he has an infection, or internal
bleeding.”
“We’ll get him to a
hospital just as soon as we can.”
Waiting seemed to last
forever and David’s heart was in his throat the whole time. Their lives seemed so tenuous. Until their friends arrived, they were
practically defenseless.
Finally, he saw the sedan
he recognized as Colby’s creeping along the road.
“They’re here.”
He jumped up and moved
into the open, waving. The car pulled
over and Megan leapt out and ran towards them.
David turned and helped Charlie get Don up one last time.
When Megan saw the shape
Don was in, she said, “Oh my god,” but didn’t waste time on questions. She had Charlie get in the back seat and they
lifted Don in, settling him on his right side across Charlie’s lap.
David climbed into the
front next to Megan. Closing
the door he said, “Go.” As Colby
made a U turn and headed toward
~~**~~
Charlie was
exhausted. Physically, emotionally, any
way you could name. He wanted it to be
over. He wanted it to never have
happened.
With Don lying across his
lap with his chest pressed to Charlie’s stomach and head resting in the crook
of Charlie’s arm, reality stayed front and center. His brother wasn’t completely unconscious,
his arms loosely gripped Charlie’s torso. He would shift uncomfortably once in a while,
and Charlie steadily petted his hair, trying to comfort him. To comfort both of them.
David had done the talking
and explained everything that had happened.
They decided to call their own office in
Charlie could see that
Colby’s face was grim as he drove steadily.
The newest member of Don’s team was shocked, mostly that a federal agent
was the one who betrayed them. It was
going to take Colby a long time to get over that, Charlie thought.
Sandwiched between the two
male agents, Megan turned around to face Charlie. She looked down at Don, carefully taking in
the bruising and the brand. Then she met
Charlie’s eyes.
“Philips did this.” It wasn’t a question, but she seemed to need
an answer.
“Yes.”
She took a steadying
breath. “I’m sorry. He fooled me completely.”
“He fooled all of us,
Megan. This isn’t your fault.”
She nodded at Charlie’s
words, but without much conviction. It
was going to take her a long time to get over this, too. True for all of them.
Megan turned back
around. David had leaned his forehead
against the dash and was gripping it so hard his knuckles were white. Megan touched his back, and began to stroke
it gently. David took a deep, ragged
breath.
Charlie could barely hear
his words. “I thought he was going to
kill us. He almost killed Don. I couldn’t do anything.”
Megan responded, “You got
out. Don is hurt, but he’s going to be
fine. Charlie’s all right. You saved their lives.”
David shuddered, then sat up slowly, his composure restored, if only on the
surface. “We’re going to get them.”
She agreed, “We will. I promise.”
Colby rumbled brusquely,
“We’ll get them all. They’re going to
pay.”
Charlie just listened and
stroked Don’s face and hair. He was
exhausted.
~~**~~
The lights were dim when
Don woke up. He vaguely remembered
arriving at the hospital, tests and treatment.
He remembered that Charlie wouldn’t leave his side. He was a grown man, a federal agent and all
that, but he had been glad. Charlie was
an anchor; he made Don feel safe. He hoped
that some day he’d be able to tell Charlie that.
He was lying on his right
side, hospital gown pulled forward so that it wasn’t resting on the burn. There was just a thin piece of gauze covering
the spot. That left his back exposed and
it was a little drafty, but he didn’t mind too much. The bed was soft and warm and damn, those
drugs were good.
David was sitting beside
his bed. He said, “Hey, Don. How you doing?”
“Good drugs.”
David smiled, “Never
thought I’d see you high. I should get a
video camera.”
“You do that and
I’ll….something. Where’s Charlie?”
The smile faded. “Your dad just got here. They only told him that you were injured and
in the hospital. Charlie went to explain
what happened before bringing him in.”
Even through the pleasant
haze, that surprised Don.
“Charlie is telling our
father about this?”
“Yeah,
why?”
“Alan has a real thing
about anti-Semitism. His father, Beryl,
lost all his family in the concentration camps.
My dad grew up surrounded by the fear of it happening again. He gets upset talking about the subject at
all. Charlie doesn’t deal well with
upset. We didn’t even tell our dad what
case we were working on.” He
paused. “I’m trying to imagine how that
conversation is going.”
“Charlie’ll
be all right. He’s actually pretty
tough.”
The hospital room door
opened and Alan walked in, followed by Charlie.
Don noticed that his brother had had a shower, shave and fresh
clothes. That was good. He’d been looking a little ragged there for a
while.
Alan stepped close to the
bed, then stopped and stared at Don. He
seemed to force words out past choking emotion.
“How are you, Donny?”
“Not real great at the
moment, but I’ll be fine. It’s okay, Dad.”
Alan nodded tightly. After a minute he asked, “Can I see it?”
Charlie shifted nervously
and Don said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What? I’ll see it sometime. Better to get it over with. I need to, Don.”
After a pause, Don said,
“Okay. Charlie, would you?”
Visibly steeling himself,
Charlie walked around to the other side of the bed, behind Don’s back. He gently lifted the gauze away.
Alan bent over and looked.
David motioned to the door
and mouthed, ‘I should go’. Don shook
his head and silently answered, ‘Stay’.
Alan was still looking.
Don had seen it reflected
in a mirror. He knew that an area about
six inches in diameter was red and inflamed.
Within it the three inch Star of David mark was burned in deeply – third
degree burns that would require skin grafts.
It was raw and tender and clearly visible.
Don wasn’t able to fully
accept it yet. Partly it was the
medication dulling the shock, but it was also a reluctance to acknowledge that
this mark, a violent, ugly branding, would be with him for the rest of his
life. Surgery might ameliorate the
physical sign, but he would never forget how it felt, being held down,
helpless. The pain. The horrible knowledge of what was being done
to him. He stopped himself from
shuddering and focused on the soft pillow, white sheets, the feeling of
safety. He would never let anyone know
about the hopelessness he’d allowed to overtake him
while it was happening.
Finally, Alan straightened
up and stepped back, looking a little wobbly.
David stood and helped the older man into the chair. Alan bent and hid his face in his hands for a
moment, then looked up at Don and over Don’s shoulder at Charlie, who was
replacing the gauze.
Alan said, “My sons. I don’t know how I could go on if I lost
either of you, but to something like this, I wouldn’t survive. You remember your grandfather talking about
the camps, the ovens.”
“Dad,” Don interrupted,
“That’s not what this is. These guys
were crazy, yeah, but they’re only a few.
Most people in this country are as disgusted by them as you are. What happened before won’t happen again.”
“But they’re out there,”
Alan insisted.
“Fewer, now,” David
contributed. “Philips is in jail and the
others are being arrested and charged as we speak. None of those guys will ever see the outside
of a prison again.”
“That’s why we do this,
Dad. So everyone will be safer.” Don wanted his father to understand.
Alan looked behind
Don. “Charlie?”
Charlie came around and
sat on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on Don’s blanket covered leg.
“I’ve never been so scared
in my life. I…” He shook his head. “I have a greater understanding now what granddad
was talking about, what you’re afraid of.
But I feel better knowing that they’re being arrested. They’re wrong and they’re losing, even if
they don’t know it yet. Don’s
right. We’re safer today than we were
last week. People like that don’t affect
our lives, not really.”
Alan said again, “My brave
sons,” and took one each of Charlie and Don’s hands into his.
This was a positively
effusive show of emotion for the Eppes men, and Don broke the moment as soon as
he could, saying, “So Charlie, how about your program? Did you find out what was wrong with it?”
“Nothing.” Charlie
looked as relieved as Don at the change of topic. “By going over the input logs I found that
Crenshaw had actually entered all the data correctly. The problem was that someone was going back
later at night and changing the numbers so that it was meaningless. I was explaining this to Philips in the car
on the way to supposedly meet you, and he was very interested.” Charlie grimaced. “Probably because it was
him who changed the data.
David agreed, “Him or his
accomplice at the ATF. We know someone
called him back to the office while he was with us.”
Charlie murmured, “Thank
god for that,” and Don made an agreeing noise.
“We don’t know who the
accomplice is, yet, but we will,” David continued. “You can’t tell a white supremacist just by
looking at him. The whole department is
going to have deep background checks done and all the case files will be gone
over to see if they can tell who else was involved in falsifying evidence.”
Don grinned up at Charlie.
“Sounds like another job for the amazing
Multi-variant Analysis Program.”
Charlie grinned back. “It might, actually. That would be very satisfying.”
Don yawned and Alan stood
up. “We’ll let you sleep. You’re being transported back to
In fact, spending some
time at the house with Charlie and their father sounded good. For all his brave talk, it still scared Don
to think about people like that being out there, people who might target
someone he cared about just because of religion, sexual orientation or skin
tone. He knew it had shaken Charlie,
too. It was time for some family
bonding.
Don said sleepily, “You
know what? For once I just might let
you.”
End
Notes: I tried to come up with names for these
groups that weren’t identical to current or historical organizations, but it
was hard. There are literally dozens of
this kind of group, all with seriously pretentious names, and all the good ones
were taken. Any resemblance to existing
organizations is purely coincidental. So
don’t kill me. ;)
Thanks and recognition to
Jim Loy at http://www.jimloy.com/math/combo.htm
for the combination lock explanation. It’s
taken directly from this site and edited for context. I certainly couldn’t explain it any better!
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