A/N: Hey! Look at this, it's another Numb3rs fic! I was just rereading my other one and this popped into my head. I do love when something just comes to me and I can sit down and write the whole thing. They're always the best stories. Well, at least I hope so, heehee.
Disclaimer: Nopedy nope nope.
"Why are we actually doing this?!" A silence descended on the briefing room as the words of Agent Duglas hung in the air. Some people even held their breath as Special Agent Don Eppes froze over the file he was scanning.
It was about three in the morning, and the entire FBI office had been working flat out for six days on a serial murder case. The killer, the Executioner, as the press had dubbed him, kept his victims alive for a full forty eight hours before beheading them in a scene straight out of the Tudors. Six days of work had revealed four deaths in total, and another girl, fitting the young and brunette victim type, missing for the last eight hours. Six days of work had also dug up absolutely no leads, connections or even much of a pattern, beyond the standard serial stuff. Hitting a wall with a girl out there somewhere at the psycho's mercy had left the team disheartened and angry. Then Don had brought in his genius brother, who had helped them before on cases. Just three hours later the agents had been back on the case, doing a broad search of residents in an area Professor Eppes had identified. The room they were in right now was scattered with files on every man in the area, the female residents files piled in a corner, not priority. Paper was everywhere, as the agents tried to work their way though the life histories of 57 men. Over half way through and nothing. That was when Duglas had spoken.
Don put down the file he had been reading, turning slowly to look at the young agent, "You got a problem, Duglas?" His voice, to those who knew him well, was dangerously quiet.
"Yeah, I do" Duglas had only joined the Bureau five months ago and already had a reputation for being a hot head. He obviously also lacked any sense of when to stop talking, "We're in here working our way through a sea of paper on the word of some maths geek while that bastard is out there torturing a girl. We should be out looking for him, not wasting our time in here!"
Don's eyes had flashed dangerously at the description of his brother as a maths geek, and now he stood, his face once again a mask, as he looked at the junior agent, "You think we're wasting our time?"
The younger agent gestured towards a white bard in the corner of the room where Charlie had written his equation "We're basing this all on that crazy line of symbols. Nobody here understands it – you can't honestly tell me you do Eppes" The equation did indeed look like complete nonsense to everyone in the room, taking up the whole length of the board, and scrawled in untidy writing.
Don spared it a glance, "Of course I don't understand it, Duglas. If I understood it I would have written it myself. If you understood it I would have had you write it. But none of us here knows what it's about, and that is why I had Professor Eppes write it for me"
"So you're basing hours of work, and gambling that girl's life on a load of squiggles?"
Don had had enough. This was wasting time they didn't have, "How many cases have you solved since joining the Bureau, Duglas?"
Duglas looked a little taken aback at the hard edge that had suddenly appeared in Don's voice. "I've closed five cases"
Don was by now standing toe to toe with the man, "My brother has consulted on seventeen cases so far for the FBI. He has yet to fail to solve a case. I myself have been involved in over two hundred. That is what I'm basing this on. You understand me?" Duglas took a hasty step back, nodding. "Good" Don backed off, a little, "And you address me as Sir or Agent Eppes, got it?"
The rather prickly scene, with the entire team looking on, was interrupted by the door swinging in. Charlie backed in, his laptop open in his arms, a bag hanging from one elbow; and began talking before he had even turned around.
"Don! I've got-" At this point the young man did turn around, noting the tension in the room, and his brother's aggressive posture, "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"
Instantly Don's face changed, an easy smile of greeting in place, "Not at all, buddy, come on in. You got something for us?"
"Yeah!" Charlie shrugged off the atmosphere of the office, eagerly putting his computer on the nearest desk, "I've been refining my equation. I came up with a smaller area to search. It's here on this map" He pushed the laptop around so that Don could see the screen.
Don quickly called out the area's boundaries to an agent who marked them on the large wall map. The agent then turned to Don, having taken a look at the location, "Sir! There's only twenty three men in that area. Seventeen have already been cleared – that only leaves another six!" Paper flew everywhere as the team scrambled to find the appropriate files. Five were quickly cleared. Jobs, lifestyles or habits rendering them innocent. It was a blond haired female agent who held the sixth file. She called out the info to the room in general.
"Marcus Farthing. Thirty four, single, unemployed. Prior for assault on a young woman. Keen interest in history!" Another agent was typing furiously at a computer. Now it was his turn.
"Sir! Farthing has a house in the area we were looking at but he also owns a warehouse just outside the search zone. There's been a complaint of noise from.....three neighbours. Said they heard banging"
That was enough for Don, he was already checking his gun and speed dialling an assault team as he called out to his team, "Right, let's go! Send the address to my car. Everyone armed!" The whole room erupted as guns were checked and agents ran out the door. Don spared a moment to give Charlie a clap on the back and to shoot Duglas a look that clearly said 'You try to follow me on this and you'll see the business end of my gun.' Soon the only people left in the room were the maths professor and the junior agent. Charlie smiled at the man and was rather surprised to see Duglas glare at him, before storming from the room. Charlie shook his head, not knowing what he'd done to upset the agent, and really not caring at this point. It was almost four o'clock in the morning, and the only thing he wanted was his bed. Don would call him when they got the guy. Gathering his things, he gladly made his way out of the FBI building.
A/N: Sooooo, what'd you think? Leave me a review, this is only my second story, after all :-) Drop me a line, drop me a line!!!!!!!!!