Summary: Sick and injured FBI officers, a case with some
unforeseen complications, and just a dash of guilt thrown in.
Notes: Written for Tina as a holiday gift. Enjoy! And thank
you to my mother, of all people, and an encyclopedia entry for the FBI
who/which helped me with the basic crime aspect of the plot.
"hahhhhshhh!"
Feeling the
light misting spray of that one, Don sighed and picked up the box of tissues.
He held it out to Colby. "Bless you." He added, pointedly, "Again."
Colby took
a tissue out of the box and blew his nose quietly, self-consciously. "Sorry,
Don. Snffff! Must be my allergies acting up. Snnffffff! Hehhh-" He helped himself to yet another tissue. "hahhShihh!"
Don
frowned, looking at him sympathetically. "Why don't you just take the whole
box?" he said, forcing the small, square box on his officer.
"Th-thanks, Don." He took another and turned a little, "hehh-KShhh!" There wasn't really any way to put distance
between them, so turning to the side was as much as he could do.
Don Eppes and Colby Granger had been in the small, white surveillance
van for four hours straight now, but it seemed like twice that. After five
months of collecting evidence, interviewing witnesses, trying to turn members,
and filing with the court, they finally obtained permission to tap the house of
a supposed gangster. And all those months of work had culminated finally in a
slow surveillance operation.
"hehhShihh!" Another sneeze,
another blow, and another apology.
Don sighed.
"Colby, you're sick. Go home."
"I'm not
sick," he said. Colby wiped his nose and shoved a tissue into the pocket of his
coat. Even though it was fairly warm inside the van, with all the equipment, he
still had his coat on, which did not help his case any. "It's just allergies. Too much time at the vet today." Because of the specifics in
the court order, the FBI was not physically allowed in the house, and most
anything they sent inside would no doubt be checked. Their brilliant solution
was to place a bug within the collar of the family's dog during its appointment
at the veterinarian today. Even if they took the collar off the dog, it would
remain in the house to pick up any conversations. So far, however, the only
thing the members of the house had talked about was what to have for dinner and
what to watch on television. Right now, the dog was in the backyard, sniffing
around to do its business.
"Look,"
said Don, taking off his headphones for a moment, to talk seriously with Colby.
"It's not allergies, because I know for a fact
you have pets. And you're only getting worse as this goes on. I know you want
to catch this guy as bad as any of us, but it could take days or weeks to get
anything on these guys. Megan and David will be here in two hours, I can cover
things here until then." Colby still looked reluctant, though he glanced
towards the baseball caps and uniforms for the cable company that matched the
logo on the outside of their van, which was their cover. "Go on. Go home and
take care of yourself."
Colby
nodded, then froze in place. Instead of reaching for
the tissues again, he went straight for the volume. Immediately, Don put his
headphones back on, expecting some juicy piece of information. Thank goodness they
were constantly recording.
Instead of
a conversation about drug trafficking or hits, there was the muffled sound of a
dog whimpering, and then a crash of broken glass and a house alarm, sounding
both through their sound system and outside of the van. Don and Colby looked at
each other, then both bolted out of the van. Colby
paused briefly to make sure the door closed and the van was locked before
running after Don.
Don spotted
someone running from the house, wearing black from head to toe, including a black
ski mask over his face. More important than the fact that the man had just
broken out of the house of a presumed gangster was the fact that he had, under
his arm, the small bulldog with the most important dog collar in all of the LA
Basin. Don sprinted, pulling out his gun as he ran.
"Freeze!" Don yelled. Not surprisingly, the man did not
stop. Don glanced over his shoulder, seeing Colby but not the gangsters, which
had been his main worry. Apparently their cover had not been blown, but their
bug was getting away. Still, Don wasn't about to yell out that he was from the
FBI, and firing a shot would look more suspicious than anything. So all he
could do was run and hope to corner the guy. He was in hot pursuit, with the
man going this way and that, erratically.
The dognapper made a break down another block, and Don knew
they'd have him. He motioned to Colby to go around the other way. There was a
construction site at the end there, with the street blocked off. There was no
escape and Don continued after him.
Don Eppes he realized his error of judgment a moment too late. He
saw a black car with covered license plates parked on the street. Apparently,
the man had been heading for that car all along. The passenger door flew open
and the man jumped in with the dog. Then a hand reached out and it had a gun in
it. Don lifted his own to fire, a second too late. There was a gunshot. The car
sped away at full speed in reverse. Don tried to get a look, but street and
houselights reflected off the highly tinted windows of the car. All he could
manage to do was get a make and model of the car, before he doubled over with
pain.
His
breathing went shallow, and his heart raced. It was dark out, but he saw bursts
of brightness in front of his eyes as pain struck him. He reached up, trying to
find the source of the pain, and felt wetness on his sleeve. Don winced and
shivered, wishing he had his coat on like Colby had.
Colby came
around the corner a minute later, a phone with a secure line in hand. "Shot
fired," he announced into it, breathlessly. "Officer down. Requesting
paramedics on the scene." Colby stripped off his coat and draped it over
Don as he guided them both down onto the sidewalk so they could do damage
control. He put a hand on Don's back and then rubbed at his own nose a little.
Don shivered again and Colby put his arm around Don. "Hey," he said, and Don
looked up at the man. "Maybe I will go home after all. It could take weeks for
something exciting to happen around here."
Don gave a
laugh and nodded. He offered his arm over to Colby, who pressed something hard
against the upper portion to stop the bleeding. It turned out to be a glove
Colby had had in his pocket, but it did the trick until the paramedics arrived
on the scene a few minutes later.
*
"uhhh... huhhh..." He
already had a tissue balled up in his hand, thankfully, and lifted it to his
face. "UhShooo!" He blew his nose one-handed
and then dropped his hand back onto the desk with a sigh. His head felt heavy,
stuffed, and every bit of him was tired. Going against a certain nagging
feeling in him, he pushed his keyboard forward, bent his arm on the desk, and
leaned over to rest his head upon it as a pillow. Just a quick nap, that was all he needed. And then he could get right
back to work...
"Don?"
Don raised
his head quickly, checking the clock on the lower right side of his computer
screen to note that the passage of time had only been about two minutes. "Sorry.
Yeah?" He looked over at Megan.
She sat
down on the edge of his desk. "Why don't you go home? We're sort of between
cases at the moment and I know you wanted to catch up with case files..." she
looked down at him. "But you're not the world's best typer
at the moment."
He
chuckled, following her gaze to his right arm, which was bandaged and hung in a
sling. His hand was free, but he couldn't hold it at the right angle to type
properly. He had to use his left hand for all the keys on the keyboard, as well
as to move the mouse, which felt strange and backwards to him. "Yeah," he
agreed. "Was thinking about going home to see if my dad has my mom's old
chicken noodle soup recipe."
"Might want
to go to the corner deli for that instead," David said, barging into Don's
office. "Because I think I've got something here." He walked past Megan and
handed a manila folder right to Don.
"Oh yeah? Wha..." Don broke off, shaking his head apologetically. He
moved his hand, so he wouldn't sneeze on the work, but then realized he had no
free hand with which to grab for a tissue. He hung his head, directing his
sneeze down towards his lap. "uhhhgCHIHH!" He sniffed wetly, hunched over,
shoulders forward. Kindly, David took the file back for a moment and handed Don
two tissues from the box on the desk. When Don was done with the pinching and
rubbing that was something of a substitute for blowing. It was bad enough they
had to hear him sneeze.
David began
again, the moment he seemed certain he had Don's attention. "I was following up
on the Harbold case-"
Don sighed
and interrupted, holding a hand up. "Look, David, I appreciate you being
thorough, and I know the FBI handles kidnappings... but we usually leave the dognapping to the local cops."
David
laughed. "I know. But this time is different. See, I was wrapping up the
bugging job and realized that the collar is still transmitting." Don gave him a
'so what?' look. "Yes, we wrapped up on the van, but the transmission is still
recorded on the computers downstairs as a back-up. And when I checked it, I
heard the kidnappers."
"Wait wait wait. You mean... uhhh..." He rubbed desperately at his nose to
buy himself some time. "You mean they left the collar on the doh... dog? Uhhh-Huhshooo! Hshhh!" He muffled the
second into a tissue. "Why would dey do dat?" He could not delay the inevitable any longer. He took
another few tissues, which David handed to him also. Then he stood and turned
with his back to them to blow his nose. But in his head, he was still trying to
figure the situation out. He turned back around and leaned against the wall,
looking perplexed "Why do people steal dogs?"
"To breed
them or resell them," Megan answered. "So why would they leave the collar on
the dog after two days? Are you sure it's still on, not just tossed in a
corner?"
David was
sure. "I could hear the dog breathing and swallowing."
"So at
least they're feeding it," Megan said.
"Yep, but I
can also hear voices. Clearly. Which means-" This
time, he let Don interrupt him.
"We might
be able to figure out where they are, break them up, get the dog, and put it
back in place!"
David
nodded. "There are about forty hours of tape downstairs."
"I want
everyone on this. Sniff! Snniiifff!" He rubbed his nose again. "Do you
think we could bring Colby in?"
David
smiled. "I think he'd kill us if we had this lead and didn't at least call
him."
Don was
sure he was right, though he felt terrible about dragging Colby out of his sick
bed. And, in general, he just felt terrible. "uhhh-huh-UHShooo! HuhChoo!" He pressed the
back of his hand to his nose and crossed the office to the tissue box. "uhhhKShooo! uhhhChoo!
Uhh-HIHShoo!" A blowing of
his nose was cut off prematurely when David appeared in the doorway to his
office again.
"You should
go home and get some rest," David said. "It could take us a long time to find
something."
Of course,
the last time he'd said the same thing, something had jumped out at him within
ten minutes. "I should go home," Don finally agreed. He felt his head throb,
his throat burn, and his nose run. "And I think I will."
Briefly, he
considered going to Charlie's place, because he could think of few places more
comfortable than his spot on the couch, with those blankets and cushions and
the television blaring mindlessly at him. But he worried that if he crashed
there, he might not ever get up again. And he knew once his father saw him, he wouldn't be allowed to get up again. And with
Charlie at a mathematics conference in Vegas, he wouldn't have anyone to run
interference or stick up for him.
So he headed
to his apartment, instead, trying to work himself up to accepting the meager comforts
his bed had to offer. Anything had to be better than using his keyboard for a
pillow, right? Don stopped to get his mail on the way in. He hadn't been to his
place in days, so it stacked up and he had to set it on the floor as he opened
the door to his apartment, having only the one arm that was useful. He stood at
the kitchen table for a moment, sorting through the mail from force of habit.
He wanted to make sure he didn't miss any bills or anything equally important.
When he got
to a "Have You Seen Them?" card from the Center for Missing and Exploited Youth
he, as always, gave it a good look before putting it in the trash pile. He was
good with faces, and it was the least he could do to give these ones a good
look. This one had a picture of a young Hispanic girl of seven years. She was
incredibly sweet-looking, though that was no surprise, given the circumstances.
She had dark hair and pigtails, and a few freckles on her forehead. She didn't
look at all familiar to him, nor did the man she had last been seen with, a large
Caucasian male who looked like a creep. There was an offer of five hundred
thousand dollars for any information about their whereabouts. His eyes wide, Don
took a deep breath, rubbed his nose, grabbed his keys, and headed straight back
to the office.
He found
Colby and David listening together to a portion of a tape. They waved him over
as soon as they saw, and heard him. "uhhh-HIHShoo! H'Choo!"
"Bless you.
That's some cold you've got," Colby said, sheepishly. "You taking
something for it? Because I've got some Dayquil if-"
"I think I
have something in my office," Don said. "But thanks. Sniff! Thanks for everything.
Most especially the chills and the congestion and the sore throat and..." Don
cleared his throat. "How goes the audio?"
"Good,"
David answered. "Think we might have something already."
"That's
great, because I think I might have something, too. But I want to hear yours
first," he gestured to the computer where the audio files were all cued up. David
backed up to a previous spot on the recording and hit play.
Slightly
obscured by all the panting the dog was doing, they could hear the following
conversation:
"I drove by today."
"Did you see them?"
"Oh yeah. Twenty-five
thousand dollars, almost twice what you said. I took one."
"Let me have it."
"You always get to be the one to
hold onto them."
"I'm going to put it up on the
wall, don't you worry. But first we gotta get through
with the job."
"And then we'll be rich!"
"Where's that dog gone to?"
"He's just over there... drooling on
your shoe."
"Hey! For that I'm going to make
you get rid of him."
Then there was some shuffling around. Footsteps
coming close and then going away again.
"We haven't
figured out what money they're talking about yet, and that doesn't help us figure
out where they are." Colby coughed a little, which gave Don time
to speak.
"I think I
may have that first part of the puzzle worked out." He slapped down the piece
of mail and both men looked at it. They didn't get it. "They're after..." Don
swore and turned his head. "hihhShoo! hekShoo!
Hehh-HEHChoo! Sniff!" Even after the time it took
for him to sneeze, David and Colby didn't catch on. "A reward," Don finally
said. "They stole the dog for the reward money."
It was quickly
agreed that Don had it. Megan was across the hall with the techies, trying to
track down the transmissions, but the bug they'd placed was extremely weak so
it wouldn't be easily found by the mobsters so they had only narrowed it down
to about a three hundred mile radius. "I'll ask Charlie and see if he can't
narrow it down any."
"Charlie?
Isn't he away at a conference?"
Don nodded.
"It's called the phone." Except that he didn't end up using the phone. Don got
a cup of hot coffee to replace the sleep he wasn't having, Then
he settled in front of his computer again and dialed. It took several attempts
to get through, but then Charlie's face appeared on his computer screen.
"Hey Don.
Sorry, I was in the middle of a seminar. What's up?" He paused. "Is it just our
connection or do you look-"
"hahh-IHshoo! h'Choo!"
Charlie had
his answer. "I take it you're working on a big case, because you should be in
bed with that cold."
Don felt a
bit depressed to think that the only action he was getting in bed lately was
with a cold. "It's a big case," Don said. "And I could really use your... hehh... your help. Hehh-Chihshooo!"
"Anything." The word broke up during the transmission, but
it was heartfelt. "In fact, I can do just about anything from here. What's up?"
"Well,
there are some dogs who have been stolen and-"
"That's
your big case? Isn't that something the police-"
Just as
Charlie had cut him off, Don returned the favor. "I can't get into it right
now. I just need to find the people who stole these dogs. Especially one dog in
particular."
"Why don't you just-"
"And we are
unable to speak with the people whose dog it is. Hah-uhhShooo! We dow where... huhshooo! Sniff! sub other... heh-add... uhh-Tchoo!" Don turned away from the camera and
monitor, his cheeks blazing with embarrassment and his nose running into a
handful of tissues.
Charlie sighed.
"Don, why don't you just send me the data you do have and I'll crunch the
numbers and see what I get?"
Don turned
back to the camera, tissues to his nose, and nodded. "Thags."
"Take care
of that cold, Don. You're not going to get much work done if you pass out and
die."
Don nodded.
"Bye, Charlie." They ended the transmission and Don immediately blew his nose.
"Charlie's
right, you know."
Don jumped
a foot in surprise, but Colby's hand on his shoulder calmed him. "Sorry. Thought you saw me there." He held a coffee mug out as a
peace offering. "I know you said you had something to take, but this is my
surefire cure. Hot lemon tea mixed with Dayquil and honey." As
soon as Don took it from him, Colby turned and, with a fist over his mouth, "ha-Shihhh!"
"Surefire, huh?" Don said skeptically. But he drank right
away anyway. And he had to admit, nearly an hour later, he was feeling pretty
damn good. Of course, that might have had something to do with another portion
of the recording in which they discussed the date and time they would approach
the family for the reward. It might also have had to do with the quick power
nap he took in his office.
They spent
the rest of the night listening to the recordings and trying to work out the
criminals' locations, without much success. As the dognappers
were to return the dog in two days, they had a bit of time. But there was
supposed to be a big deal happening in one day and the only way they would gain
any intelligence on it would be to place the dog, and the bug, back in the
house before then.
It was
Charlie who saved the day, once again. He called back around nine in the
morning with the numbers crunched, as promised. Putting together all of the factors-
from the previous incidents of missing dogs, the accessibility to banks, the
probable routes, and the possible places to stay where the barking of dogs
would not be overheard to arouse suspicion- had led to a few key locations,
only one of which lay within the area from which the transmissions were
emanating.
Don thanked
Charlie, who asked him how he was feeling only after conveying the information.
Don promised him he would take it easy, just as soon as this case was over. And
Charlie threatened to call their Dad in if Don didn't. Don hung up, blew his
nose, then had Megan make a call at once for a
warrant. He had another one of Colby's teas, and took a tissue box with him
when it came time to pay a visit to 1642 South Lake Boulevard.
"hehChoo! Hehh-EH-Choo! K'Choo!"
"Are you
sure you feel up to this?" David asked, glancing down at Don's arm, and then
his handful of tissues.
Nodding, "Don't worry. I won't take the lead out there in
the field." He was a workaholic, yes, but he wasn't a complete idiot. "But it's
a big operation and I want to be witness and look these guys in the eye." One of
them had shot him, after all.
Megan did
not go with them, because she was in charge of setting up the recovery mission.
Assuming they got the dog back, safe and sound, she would be the one to return
it to its home. She was getting into an outfit, posing as a runner from an
upper-class neighborhood. She was also getting into place and organizing the
backup team.
Don spent
most of the drive across town blowing his nose. After gazing into David and
Colby's worried faces, he agreed to stay out with the cars with the back-up
team as the others took the front and back doors of the warehouse. Don really
hoped this would go by the books. The sooner they got the dog back, the sooner
they could recover their operation. And the sooner they got that up and
running, the sooner he could go get some rest.
The
criminals had really picked a good hangout, albeit a typical one. It was a
large, rectangular building that had long since been abandoned. Windows on all
three stories were boarded up entirely, and the pace was in the middle of a
rather seedy block where no one would think twice about strange dogs and
stranger people going in and out.
There was a
dirty grey pickup parked alongside of the building, and Don went to check it
out as he listened to the teams exploring the building, room by room, and
reporting progress on the open channel. He made note of the license plate, just
to be thorough, and was about to head back to his car when he noticed some
movement from the third floor. One of the boards on a window was coming loose.
Rather, it
wasn't coming loose on its own, but because one of the dognappers
stood behind it with a large crowbar. The man, wearing a black skimask, swung at the boards with the heavy metal rod,
shaking another board and, after the third blow, sending it down to the ground
with a thud just a few yards from where Don was standing.
Don had his
gun out and called over two guys for back-up, just before jumping away from the
side of the building to let his presence be known. "FBI!
Hold it right there!" he yelled, shaking and coughing inwardly as it had
strained his voice. He stared unblinkingly up at the man who had what looked
like several pillows in his free hand. No doubt their plan was to jump for it
and land in the flatbed of the pickup. Don almost wanted to let them try and let
them break their necks in the process. However, he assumed they'd take the dog
with them and there wasn't much bugging to be done if the collar was buried in
the backyard or sent to a pet crematory.
The
adrenaline was not enough to completely push his cold aside. He felt his nose
tickling, and his throat itched. This was not the time to sneeze, and he was
glad that his sniffs couldn't be heard three stories above.
Through the
ski mask, the man looked at him threateningly. Despite his nose tickling, Don
kept the gun trained on the man. Finally, the dognapper's
body relaxed and the crowbar was lowered. A few seconds later, Don spotted
Colby in the room behind, handcuffing the man and pulling him back from the
window. Only then did Don relax and lower his own weapon.
Don went
back to the car now and listened to the men being read their rights on the
march down the stairs to the front door. The criminals just wouldn't shut up
about how stunned they were they'd been found out. The dog barked incessantly,
as well, but Don was relieved to see it, and its collar, was safe and sound.
Cupping a
hand over his nose and mouth, because he had left the tissue box on the
passenger seat of the car, Don turned and sneezed. "huhh-Ihshoo! hehhChoo!"
The dog
seemed startled at the sound, and quieted down, cocking its wrinkled head and
droopy jowls at him. Don sniffed and chuckled and walked over to pat the dog on
its white and brown head. It began panting and blinked its eyes happily.
"Awww," said David, after guiding one of the dognappers into the back of one car while Colby did the
same with the other. It was best to split them up for the ride over, and there
were a dozen vehicles to choose from at the moment, not counting Don's. "I think
the little guy likes you. Sure you don't want to keep him?"
Don
chuckled. A dog would certainly make the nights alone in his apartment more
bearable. But he could barely find the time to take care of himself now, let
alone a dog. "Tempting," Don said, rubbing at his nose, then
holding one hand out. "On one hand, having a sudden, adoring
companion. And on the other..." He held out his other hand. "Continuing a sting operation to bring down a major crime boss.
Tough choice- hahh!" He
put a hand on the hood of his car and cupped the other to his face. "hahh-Choo! Ktchoo! H'Shoo!" He felt a little faint, and was glad to have
the car right there to lean on.
Before he
could blink, he found he also had David to lean on. He smiled gratefully. "Don,
we've got the bad guys and the dog, I think we can take it from here if you
want to go."
Don nodded
slowly. But as he did, his mind raced with all the things that had to be done
now. The case was far from over. The dog would have to be checked, and the
transmitter and recording system would have to undergo diagnostics as well; it
would be awful if they went through all this only to find that it was not
recording any more. Assuming it was working, the surveillance van would have to
be set up and manned again. The criminals would have to be dealt with, as well.
They would be investigated, right down to their bank accounts, and charged.
"Don?"
Colby pressed, walking over to where David and Don stood. "You are going home to take it easy, right?" He
still sounded a bit under weather, himself, but not half as bad as Don was
feeling.
Don nodded
again, more decidedly. "Yeah, I'm going." He cleared his throat. "But I want you
in there personally to take their statements," he said to David.
David
nodded. "Of course."
"And you
need to go through their bank records and see if any deposits correspond to
former missing dogs in the area."
"Right,
Don," said Colby, gesturing for Don to go.
Turning
away, Don coughed into his fist, sniffled a little, and "hihChhuhh! Sniff! hehChoo!"
He opened up the driver's side door, leaned over, and pulled a few tissues out
of the box. He blew his nose, then got back out of the
car again, instead of settling down. "And make sure they test the recording
device in the van before they place the dog. And sniff! Sniff! And call me immediately if there's any development
there. I don't care if I'm so sick I'm about to die, if there's any news about
the big deal, I want to know. kehChoo!"
David and
Colby practically strong-armed him into the car. Colby closed the door halfway
after him. "We'll call. We'll do the write-ups. Don, you're sick. Go home. I
feel guilty enough already that you caught my cold. Imagine how I'll feel if
you keel over and die on the job. Nothing exciting here."
Don laughed
agreeably. "I'm going," he promised. "Thanks." With his one good arm, he pulled
on his seatbelt, turned the keys in the ignition, shifted into reverse, and
backed the car up while turning the wheel. He waited until he was a few blocks
away before dipping back into the tissue box.