Numb3rs Fic: Pressure, Chapter Four/7
Title: Pressure
Author: aleo_70
Rating: PG 13+
Genre: Gen
Characters: Don, with cameo by David
Challenge: Clue Challenge #9, March 2010 at hurt_don . Prompts: Who? - Don ; What? - Explosion; Where? - Crime Scene.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just borrowed them. Numb3rs and its characters are the property of those that created them. No copyright infringement intended. No financial reward gained. All real places and organisations are used in a fictional sense. Original characters and the storyline are mine however.
Spoilers: Nil
Warnings: some violence
Word count this chapter: 3391
Word count total: ~22,800
Summary: Finding himself dragged into a mad bombers plan Don wonders if he will survive the day.
CHAPTER FOUR
“You keep pushing me, Agent.” Mason said, clearly angry.
“And you keep pushing me.” Don said right back, just as angry. “I did what you wanted. I spoke to the idiot, he’s got heaps of grabs to run with. You want to give him more, you talk to him.”
Mason glared at the agent a moment longer before looking behind them. Don used his mirror to see what the bomber was seeing. Correctly interpreting Don’s move the SWAT SUVs had moved up to effectively box the news van in. The van was free to leave by slowing and dropping away but was blocked from moving back up. Mason turned back.
“I’ll let it go. For now.”
“So kind.”
“Remember when I said you’d get to go home today if you did as I said?” Mason started in response to the sarcastic comment. “Keep that up and I’ll change my mind.”
The new threat didn’t worry Don. He’d already come to the conclusion that his going home was very low down on Mason’s list of priorities. If he was to survive this it wasn’t going to be by relying on the man letting him go. When he got the chance to either take Mason down or simply escape, if he could be sure such a move wasn’t going to threaten innocent lives, he was going to have to take it. For now he was stuck and whilst he had to obey the man’s instructions he wasn’t going to roll over and make it easy.
Mason took satisfaction from the agent’s silence and settled himself more comfortably in his seat, speaking only to give directions as they continued through a fourth orbit of this morning’s crime scene. As they came up to the next hour he switched the radio on again and Don was forced to sit through his interview and the spin that came after it as the station blamed the bombings on the police and FBI. They even had an ‘expert’ that put forward a theory on a conspiracy between them, the government and the bomber.
“Is this what you wanted?” Don demanded, upset at the way the FBI was being portrayed, how his words and actions under duress were being twisted to support the station’s position. “You’re doing this to attack us?”
“What do I care about the FBI?” Mason argued. “I’m doing this for me.”
“Yeah, so you said. So far I don’t see how any of this helps you.”
“Oh, it helps me plenty.”
“Really? Stuck in this car with me and under just as much threat from the bombs as I am? That helps you?”
“Don’t worry, Agent.” He looked ahead and nodded his head. “When a few more of them turn up we’ll move onto the next phase.”
Don followed Mason’s gaze to see an outdoor broadcast van waiting at the side of the road ahead of them. It bore the livery of a television news station. It had only been a matter of time before TV became involved. As they passed he found himself looking into the lens of a camera and expected it would be going out live. This station was one that it was very possible his father could be watching and he hoped that David had found a moment to have called Alan and have explained the situation that his son had found himself in. Then they were past and he glanced back in his mirror to see the van pulling out to join the procession. The same glance showed him two other vans already trailing the SWAT and LAPD units behind him. Some of what Mason had said earlier now made more sense. He was setting up a scene that couldn’t help but pique the interest of the media. They were going to lap this up, a moving crime scene that they could follow and film instead of being forced back behind police cordons.
“And that would be?” Don asked.
“That would be where I get what I want.”
He should have expected the evasive answer.
Mason then continued, his voice barely audible as if he was thinking out loud. “They’ll have to give it to me now. I’ve shown them.”
Thinking on the deadly explosions over the last week Don as the man spoke he could only agree that ‘they’, whoever they may be, had certainly been shown. By not making any demands before now the bomber had made his position even stronger, demonstrating his determination to get what he wanted even if no-one yet knew what that was. Somewhat akin to shooting first before yelling ‘don’t move’. The authorities had so far been prevented from opening any sort of dialogue or having any influence over Mason’s plans. Mason’s unusual approach had given him the upper hand.
With there not being any point in questioning Mason as to what ‘it’ was or who ‘they’ were he concentrated on his driving as more media vehicles joined the parade. The road behind them was becoming quite crowded as the other vehicles showed a little more decorum than Kal-News had and remained behind the official escort. A shadow passed over them and he looked up to see a couple of helicopters pacing them at the lowest altitude allowed by the buildings around them, camera pods mounted underneath. Another helicopter was higher up and he surmised that machine was LAPD.
“Left, there.” Mason ordered pointing at a ramp entrance.
He took the turn and headed up onto the 10 thinking that the bomber must finally be satisfied with their entourage. Until now Mason had been happy to stay on the more local roads, heading onto the major arterial suggested that things were changing.
“Slow down.” Mason added as they merged and Don moved out into a middle lane.
“Why?”
“I don’t want to do laps of the 10.”
At that Don looked closely at Mason, searching for more clues as to his meaning other than what seemed obvious. The bomber seemed almost relaxed and Don took it as confirmation that they’d completed another step of his plan and were onto the next. It was clear to him now that they were actually headed somewhere, somewhere that the 10 would take them.
“What’s down here that you want?” He demanded as he slowed, racking his brain as to what the man’s target could be. There were just too many choices.
Before Mason could answer, not that the agent was sure he would, Don’s cell rang. With the change of road and speed it was no surprise that David would be checking in.
“Hey Don. How’re you doing?” David started, his tone conversational.
Out of all the things he could have said Don reluctantly settled with, “Fine, David.”
“Good. And Mason?”
The man showed no sign of answering the question himself, instead twisting back in his seat to assess the parade behind them, so Don repeated himself. “He’s fine too.”
“Okay.” David paused a moment before getting to the reason for his call. “The 10? Headed anywhere in particular?”
Again, nothing from Mason, he was still checking out the situation behind them. “West, I guess.” Don’s best answer didn’t narrow anything down or help them figure things out. There was a whole lot of LA to the west before they hit ocean.
“I see.” David said, as he clearly didn’t. Again he hesitated, taking a far more passive approach to his attempted negotiation this time. “Mason? Anything we can do for you now?”
“Sure.” The man himself responded to the polite question. “How about getting the cops to back off for a bit?”
“I think I can arrange that.” David offered. “I’d like something from you though.”
“I’m sure you would but that’s not the way we’re doing things.”
“You don’t have a lot to bargain with this time. LAPD are keeping the traffic back.” The other agent pointed out. Now that the pursuit had moved up onto the open freeway with fewer options to change direction the police had finally been able to effectively block the road behind the hijacked SUV. Travelling slower than the other traffic already on the freeway they’d opened up a clear space around them. The bomber only had one life to play with, a fact he quickly brought to David’s attention.
“Still got Eppes and I don’t think either you, or his boss, want me to kill him.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Depends on what you’re planning on doing next.” David replied honestly. Don’s life would be forfeit if necessary, something the senior agent already understood and was prepared for. It didn’t hurt that Mason also knew that. “You didn’t care that the LAPD were following you before. Why now?”
“They’re blocking the news trucks.”
“And you want them through.” David finished for him.
“Finally. A fed that can figure things out for himself.”
“I let them through, what then?”
“They film, we get this show on TV and then we move on.” Mason answered, surprisingly forthcoming with information. One of the most direct answers he’d given so far.
David seized on the most important piece of information. “Move on to what?”
“To finishing this. You want this over, you let those trucks through.”
A solid demand but not the one they wanted to hear. This was just a short term goal. Mason clearly had more in mind but after giving them all a brief moment where it seemed possible he might reveal some of his plans he clammed up again, refusing to elaborate.
Don could almost hear David trying to decide what to do as he sounded slightly distracted when he asked his next question.
“Same deal as before, they have safe passage?”
“Absolutely. I need them, but,” Mason’s voice sharpened, cutting David off as the agent started to speak. “I’m not opening this up to discussion. Let them through, or not. Up to you. You know the consequences.”
At the cutting motion Don ended the call. Once again they were left with a difficult choice, give the bomber what he wanted for basically nothing in return or hold out and see just how far Mason was prepared to go. Even before the trailing black & whites merged into the single lane behind them, along with the SWAT SUVs, Don was sure which way David would go. While the negotiator handbook may have said not to give in to a demand without getting something back in return, it also said to take things slowly, extending the game where possible to give everyone the opportunity to find alternatives. If that meant giving Mason another shot at fifteen minutes of fame then that was what they had to do.
The Kal-News van was the first to close up with them, once again on the left. This time Don wasn’t ordered to speak to the reporter who was all bar banging on his window as their van paced them, dangerously close. He was almost tempted to feint towards them to force them away but as the other news vans and trucks started to close up he didn’t dare due to the risk of causing a collision. A television news van with the familiar abc7 logo painted on the side moved up to pace them on the right. This was more to Mason’s liking as he wound his window down to stare at the reporter. He even held up his hand with the dead-man’s switch, allowing time for the cameraman to zoom in before lowering it again. The van moved a little closer and the reporter shouted out but even at their reduced speed the rough concrete road surface made it almost impossible to hear the man. The man yelled something else as Mason leant out the window. Abruptly Mason nodded and pulled himself back in.
“Give me that pre-paid phone.” Mason waved at the cell Don had tossed on his dash when this had all started.
Taking the cheap phone Mason again leant out the window and Don thought for a moment he was going to hand the cell over to the reporter. Instead he heard some shouted numbers, the bomber was calling out the cell number so the reporter could call him. After the number was repeated back Mason resumed his seat and wound the window up. A few seconds later the phone rang and Mason switched it to speaker.
“Is this going out live?” Mason demanded before the reporter got a word in.
“Yes it is. Sean Spence, reporting live for Abc7 Eyewitness News.” The reporter introduced himself. “Can you tell me who you are?”
“You know who I am.”
“How do we know you are who you claim to be?” The reporter demanded.
“That doesn’t give you a clue?” Mason indicated the trail of law enforcement vehicles behind them
“Pursuits like this happen every day in LA.” The journalist responded, clearly not prepared to just take Mason’s word, unlike the tabloid radio station.
“They would have told you who I am. Isn’t that enough?” The journalist would know exactly which ‘they’ Mason was referring to.
“They haven’t told us anything beyond the standard lines that they ‘are attending a developing incident and cannot comment on an ongoing investigation’.”
Don recognised a standard quote from a media section, whether the LAPD’s or FBI’s hardly mattered, it would have been the same from either.
Mason was frustrated. “What about the agent I’ve got here? Is his word good enough for you?”
“He’s allegedly under duress. Besides, we’ve only got your word for it he’s even an agent.”
Mason turned to his driver and reached out his hand. “Give me your ID.”
Reaching into his pocket Don pulled out his ID and handed it over. He glanced across to see Mason open the wallet and put it flush against the window so their camera man could focus on it. The reporter ducked back into his van, presumably to look at the image on a monitor. He came back a few seconds later.
“Agent Eppes? You are really an FBI agent?”
“Answer the man.” Mason ordered, holding out the phone.
“Yes. I am.”
“And the rest.” The bomber prompted.
“And I am under duress.” Don continued. “Because I believe he is the man responsible for the bombings.”
“That, and the bomb under his seat that he recognised as my work.” Mason added smugly. “Right, Agent?”
“Yes. The bomb he planted in this vehicle matches the devices that have been reconstructed during this investigation.” Don added stiffly.
“There. You believe me now?”
“So, you are claiming that you are the bomber that has been terrorising Los Angeles this past week?”
“I’m not ‘claiming’ anything.” Mason answered.
“Can you tell us why you are doing this?” Whether he was certain he was talking to the bomber or not Sean Spence could be certain at least that he was talking to a man holding a federal agent against his will. The question worked either way.
“Agent Eppes seems to think I’m a terrorist.”
“Are you?”
“No.” Once again Mason sounded affronted. “I’m doing this for me.”
“What do you want?”
“From you? What you’re giving me right now.”
It was not the first time that the reporter would have heard such a line. There was a faint undertone as he spoke that suggested he didn’t much like being used for such a purpose. “You want to get your message out. What is your message?”
“Message? There is no message.”
That seemed to set Spence back a bit as it took a second or so for him to ask his next question. “Then why this? You must have a reason. Six people have died today, two yesterday, one the day before and many others seriously injured and maimed for life. What do you say to the victims and their families?”
“Nothing.” Mason answered, sounding almost surprised at the question. “I don’t know any of them.”
“You don’t regret that your actions have hurt so many?”
“Regret? Hardly. It’s got me exactly what I want.”
Don couldn’t help the slight shiver of disgust that ran through him as he heard the cold, callous words. Given the time he’d spent with the man and the lack of any concern shown for anyone else it still came as a shock to hear it spelt out.
“You keep saying you have what you want.” Spence fired back before going on the attack. “What exactly is that? A hostage? A pursuit? Media attention? Is this some sort of power trip?”
“I have a reason.”
“Then explain it to us.”
Unlike when Don had asked the selfsame question Mason didn’t react angrily. “Explaining it to you is not going to get me anything.”
“There have been various descriptions made of you, especially since today’s atrocity and your subsequent actions, the most popular being Mad Bomber.” Spence led into his question, the capitals audible in his voice. “What do you say to that?”
Mason’s initial response was a slight tilt of his head and a shrug, but once again Don felt that the man was pleased with the description.
“That’s as good as anything, I guess.”
“Do you suffer from a mental illness?”
“Of course not.”
Don wasn’t so sure he could believe that. It was not unheard of for a person to commit serious offences, even serial murder for no apparent reason only to be later diagnosed with a mental illness. With the quick temper, seeming lack of agenda and lack of remorse Don was prepared to think that Mason could well suffer from something, possibly undiagnosed but existing all the same.
Spence pushed. “No voices telling you to do this, to blow people up?”
“No voices.” Mason responded calmly, seeming far less perturbed by the reporter’s line of questioning than his driver’s demands for information. “This is how I’m going to get what I want. Simple as that.”
“You keep repeating that but are refusing to state what it is that you claim to want. How can we know that you’re not doing this out of some sort of twisted sense of amusement?”
Mason turned to the agent. “Are you amused, Agent?”
“No, are you?” Don fired back. He’d seen flashes of it.
The bomber ignored him, turning to look across at the news van. “What about you, Sean Spence from abc7 Eyewitness News, are you amused?”
“Are you saying that this is a game?”
“No. I’m asking if you are enjoying this production.”
“People have died. You’ve killed those people. Lives are at risk as we speak.”
Mason glanced back at the agent as his face broke into a wide smile. “Yes, yes they are.”
“Seems to me the description ‘Mad Bomber’ would seem to fit.” The reporter summed up.
“Thank-you.” The bomber killed the connection and waved his hand in a sarcastic farewell at the news van before tossing the pre-paid phone back onto the dash. It rang, but he let it.
“You got what you wanted?” Don demanded.
“I think so.”
“What now? We done?” The agent kept his voice neutral, being done could lead to several outcomes, some not so good for him.
“Now we move on. Speed up.” Mason looked around, taking better note of their surroundings, of the road signs they were approaching indicating the end of the 10. “Perfect. Keep going.”
“Where?” They were approaching several exits.
“Straight on. The 101.”
Racking his brain for what might be of interest ahead of them he came up with only one thing, it was the name of the road a short way ahead of them after all. “Hollywood?”
“That’s it. Figured out why yet?”
“How am I supposed to figure out anything when you refuse to make sense?”
Mason shook his head. “Boy, they sure have got that wrong.”
“Who has got what wrong?”
“Normally by now the FBI would be on the same page. I’m not sure you’re even reading from the same script.”
Again the movie references that firmed Don’s thoughts that Hollywood had something to do with this. “Then point me to the right page.”
Mason stabbed his finger at a billboard they were quickly approaching now that they were back up to the speed limit. “That is the right page.”
Don glanced up at the billboard as they passed with its advertisement for all things Hollywood and found it less than enlightening.
Next chapter - here