Story: Unasked questions
Main characters: Charlie and Don
Warnings: death fic.
Summary: Charlie has an annoying habit of ignoring phone calls and disappearing. He also works for more than one agency. Before anyone knows two cases collide in a brutal way.
Told and untold
Known and unknown
Of all the things we've asked, there are so many that we haven't.
If there ever was such a thing as a case just like others, this was it. A gang was robbing banks once every seven days. No casualties yet but there were no guarantees for the future.
Special Agent Don Eppes was sipping his morning coffee and discussing latest findings with his team; they found out that for now all their leads were leading exactly in one direction: nowhere.
"Have you asked Charlie to help?" Colby asked with a hopeful look to his boss.
Don was about to answer when he was interrupted by a voice behind him.
"Excuse me. Special Agent Don Eppes?" A tall man was standing right behind Don's desk. He looked about mid-thirties, broad shoulders, tall, very fit as evidence by the muscles his suit clung to.
"Yeah." Don turned to the newcomer. "That's me. Who's asking?"
"Special Agent Malkin. NSA. Is there somewhere where we could talk privately? I have a few questions for you." Calm, even voice that barely had any emotion.
Don watched the man for a moment before nodding towards the war-room. "Sure. This way." The NSA coming to ask questions never meant anything good, but at least they hadn't asked him to come to their office for questioning.
Don led the way noticing that his team wasn't far behind barely stopping at the doors.
Malkin followed the Special Agent in and turned to close the doors when he noticed the other agents hovering nearby. He glanced at his notebook for a moment and stepped aside holding the doors open. "I'll have to ask you the same things, so you might as well come in."
The team glanced at each other, then at Don and after receiving a nod from their leader went in, David closing the doors.
"What's this all about?" Don had a case and wasn't in a talkative mood.
Malkin came to stand a few steps away from him also facing the rest of the team. "When was the last time you saw professor Charles Edward Eppes?"
The team stood in shock. This wasn't the question anyone had been expecting.
"Charlie?" Don frowned in confusion; maybe he misheard the question.
Malkin nodded eying Don and clutching his pen. "When was the last time you saw or talked to professor Charles Edward Eppes?"
Agent Eppes had to stop for a few moments to think. In any other situation he would have been able to answer right away. But the NSA didn't ask such questions for no reason. And now his mind was spinning with all the possibilities. Yet Malkin was still looking at him. "Yesterday morning after the third robbery I brought the new data to Charlie at his house."
"When was it?"
Don rubbed his neck, "about eleven hundred."
The NSA agent looked at the others who merely nodded still too stunned by the implications the question brought.
"Why are you asking? What happened?" Don wanted to know what his little brother had gotten involved into this time.
To whom it may concern,
today was supposed to be just another normal day.
I helped my brother to determine the bank robbers. Don gave me all the data he had; all I had to do was put it in a few equations I had ready for such situations and run my findings through various databases. It didn't take more than a few hours to find who the culprits were. I even wrote two reports for my brother on my findings: an extensive one with explanations and a brief one with only the characteristics of the robbers. I left it on my desk; I hope he finds it.
Then I received a call from Bob. He said that they needed my help to find a group of assassins who are killing civilians consulting for government agencies. He also said that he had sent a car to pick me up. And it arrived with three agents in less than half an hour. I have met Alec and Dorian only once before, but I know Jerry quite well; I have consulted his team on more than a few occasions. He is one of those agents who carries half of armory on them.
We were on a highway across the desert on our way out of L.A. to some safe-house where I am supposed to work for the next few days. The road was clear except for the black SUV riding in front of us. Come to think of it, the car looked exactly like us. Then out of nowhere another car hit us from behind making us slightly swerve to the left, but Alec returned our car on the right lane in no time. I guess it truly sank in that something was very wrong when Jerry ripped the computer bag out of my hands and shoved it on the floor, and handed me a 9 mm making me clutch it tightly. Like so many times before 'just in case' rang in my ears. The SUV in front of us slowed down drastically and we hit its rear, and then the car behind us slammed into us. It felt like being between the hammer and the anvil. The SUV sped away and it only took another shove from behind and here we are. About to fly off the road into sandy nowhere below us. Actually the front of our car is already in the air and only the backseats still have a roadside under them.
Surprisingly, I am not afraid. Not yet, anyway.
Disclaimer for an entire story: I own nothing, the rightful owners do.