NO SURRENDER
Chapter 1
Seventh

Revenge is a dish best served cold – Klingon proverb

It had been a long and stressful recovery for both Hotch and Reid. At their lowest point, they both put their notices in to quit the FBI, fortunately for the FBI, not at the same time so they managed to talk each other out of it. They had been back at work now for a week and it was quiet.

Too quiet for Hotch. He couldn't understand Emily. While he was ill, she visited every day, and he could remember her reading to him when he was unconscious. But now, she wasn't interested again. He watched her from his vantage point. She had hardly looked at him since he'd been back at work. All he could think was that it was the danger that attracted her and when he was safe, she lost interest.

He couldn't take that. He decided there and then not to pursue a relationship with her for a while. He turned his attention to Reid. He was absorbed in his notes. Writing furiously his own or maybe Morgan's – it was no secret that he wrote most of Morgan's notes up for him. He couldn't really keep that a secret, he didn't even try to disguise his writing. Not that it really mattered. Morgan knew what the notes said, and that was the most important thing, not who actually wrote them.

David Rossi walked across the bullpen and said something to Emily. He was walking a little stiffly today, his back was probably hurting. It had been touch and go whether he would be able to walk again after the shot in the back and the bullet lodged so close to his spine. But he had risked the operation, and it paid off. Just sometimes, Aaron could see pain in his eyes when he moved.

Aaron himself was still on crutches. For a while it seemed as if he would be back at work in a wheelchair again, but he refused to take that backward step, and struggled with the pain.

He looked down at his wrist. It was likely that he would have a scar there for the rest of his life, to remind him of how he tried to take his own life. It really had felt like the right thing to do at the time, but now he could see that Lowe had planned his and Reid's death, and even if he, Aaron, had succeeded in his bid for suicide, Reid would still have died.

He still missed Haley. Before she was killed, he saw very little of her, but knowing she was there gave him hope. Now that was gone. Jack was with Jess now on a permanent basis, and he planned to visit her this coming weekend. She still lived close by, and it was nice that Jack was within reach again, but he wished Haley was still around. He still loved her.

The phone on his desk rang, and he hobbled across his office to his chair to take it.

It was JJ. They had a case.

-0-0-0-

Six dead New Yorkers, four men, two women, three black, three white, aged sixteen to sixty four. At first glance they had nothing in common. None of them gang related, although the method of killing was drive by. They were killed in six separate incidents over seven days – no one was killed on the sixth day.

"So how are these connected?" Reid asked what everyone else was thinking.

"They were all hit at eleven at night. At first the NYPD thought it was a co-incidence, but when the sixth went down, they decided to call us."

"Were the victims alone when they were shot, or were they in a group, and are there any eye witnesses?" Hotch asked.

"Three were alone, three were in groups. No one else was hit, and no one saw anything." JJ said.

"Well, we need to jog their memories. Wheels up in five."

-0-0-0-

Victim no. 1
Wayne Harris Black male aged sixteen outside a pub with group of friends

Victim no. 2
Mel Clifton White Female aged thirty eight walking home with her children

Victim no. 3
Salisha Merstein Black female aged twenty two walking home alone

Victim no. 4
Winton Camber Black male aged sixty four walking home with group of male friends

Victim no. 5
Peter Ruben White male aged fifty outside his house alone

Victim no. 6
Sara Fitz-Gerald White female aged twenty nine in her garden alone

-0-0-0-

There was no escalation, nothing to connect the victims, all shot with different guns. Apart from the times of death, there didn't seem to be anything connecting them. Hotch faxed the list to Garcia to do some deep checking on.

"Anything at all you can find. There has to be a reason for the UnSub to target these people."

"I'll tear their lives apart. If it's there, I'll find it." she answered.

Hotch leaned his crutches against the bulkhead and sat down opposite Dave.

"You having a bad day, Dave? I can see you are in pain"

"No worse that usual, Aaron." He said. "Why do you ask?"

"I watch my team. I can tell if one of my team is in pain. It's written in your eyes."

"Well, ok then." He admitted with a sigh. "It is worse than usual today." He raised his hand as Hotch was about to speak. "If I didn't think I could handle it, I wouldn't be here. And you are a fine one! Do you mean to tell me you have no pain?"

Hotch grinned at him. "Touché." he said, and picked up his crutches and went to sit with Reid.

Reid gave him a dazzling smile.

"How are your legs, Hotch?" he asked genuinely.

"I'm coping." Hotch said. "I've come to check you out. Your hands......how are they?"

Reid held his hands up palms out, and flexed his fingers. "Pretty good, al things considered!" he said.

"Do they hurt?" Hotch asked.

"Not really. Only if they get cold." He said. "They are fine."

"And your ankles?"

"Fine too." He went to put his foot on the table that was between them. Hotch raised his eye brows – the closest they would see to a laugh on their way to a case. Reid put his hand over Hotch's.

"Really, Hotch. How are you doing?"

"Don't worry about me, Spencer. How I am won't affect the case. I will be keeping out of the field." He kept his hand where it was for a second or two, then gently slid it out from beneath Reid's hand. "We are about to land."

Hotch pulled the seat belt across his hips and Reid did the same. This was an extraordinary case. They needed all their faculties.

-0-0-0-

LAPD was ready for them. It made a change that there was no hostility or disbelief in their usefulness. They had a room put aside for them, and hotel rooms booked. They were asked if they wanted to go to the hotel first.

"We really want to get started as soon as possible, please." Hotch said."Maybe you could drive me and Morgan around the crime scenes. I would like addresses for the families of the victims. Agent's Prentiss and Jareau will be visiting them. Reid and Rossi will be staying here to work up a geographic profile. They will need maps of the area to work with."

"I'll drive you." The detective said, handing Hotch a set of keys. "There is a car set aside for your Agents to use."

"Thank you." Hotch said, passing the keys to JJ. "Let's get started then."

-0-0-0-

It didn't take long to view the crime scenes. The police had photographs, but Hotch liked to see for himself. There was nothing to show that there had been murders at the scenes except holes in the pub wall where the bullets had fired at Wayne Harris. When they got back, JJ and Emily were out interviewing the families, Reid and Rossi were marking up a map spread out on the table. They had a transparent sheet over the map and Reid was marking out the places where the victims lived, and where they died.

"In this case", Reid said, "I think there's a lot to be gained from a geo-profile."

Rossi nodded. "There doesn't seem to be much else to go on."

"What have you got so far?" Hotch asked, looking at the map.

"The events occurred evenly spaced." Reid pointed to them. "But taken together, they form and arc. Now if the UnSub travels out of his area to kill, then the chances are the UnSub lives or works in this area." Reid pointed to the apex of the segment subtended by the arc. "Of course, that is a wide area."

"Also," Rossi said, "The patterns seem to indicate that the victims were random, and the place is the important factor."

"Can we predict the site of the next attack?" Morgan asked.

"Anywhere along this circle. If there is a pattern to their choice of locations, likely around here." Reid pointed to an area along the arc. "We need more data."

"Which means more victims." Hotch sighed. "Tonight at eleven. "

-0-0-0-

When Emily and JJ came back they had nothing to report. It really did seem as if the victims were random.

Hotch decided to let the cops have what they had garnered so far.

It was a short briefing, since they didn't have much to tell them. The sixth day did have a shooting, but by some miracle, no-one was hit. Reid added it to the geo-profile he had drawn up, and it supported what they had already said. The detective in charge decided to put unmarked cars randomly across the streets that Reid showed them, although they would be extremely lucky to catch the UnSub like that. The six team members also took cars and took up positions along the arc.

At ten fifty, twelve cars were scattered around the spaces in the arc. The Detective in charge had everyone call in their positions when they were ready.

Now it was a waiting game.

-0-0-0-

Someone smiled as one of the cars pulled up opposite the cafe.

Tick tock

So easy. So predictable.

The person had a photograph on their lap, hidden where the waitress couldn't see it. The coffee was good, and a couple of refills helped pass the time, although it was surprising that the car hadn't been in position earlier.

Tick

And it was the right person in the car too. It couldn't have been better!

Tock

The person watched as the car occupant called in on the radio, and giggled, thinking of what the next message would be.

The gun felt heavy in the kangaroo pocket of the top, sagging down, and it seemed so obvious that it was a gun, but no one seemed to notice or care.

Cool blue grey metal. The hand reached in the pocket and caressed the barrel, shaking slightly in anticipation.

Tick

Almost eleven.

Tock

The face in the photograph stared back up. Even in the picture the eye looked strange.

Strange but beautiful.

Tick

How easy it was to bring the plan together

Lips pressed to the photograph and it was folded and slipped into the pocket with the gun.

Tock

Two minutes to eleven – pay the bill and leave the cafe

Tick

Time to go

Tock

-0-0-0-

It was quiet. Eleven o'clock, and no cars screeching around the corner and opening fire. Someone was crossing the road in front of the car. He watched carefully. This person could well become the next victim. He glanced in the mirror, watching for approaching vehicles. As he did so, he spoke into his phone.

"All quiet here." He reported.

Had he been looking ahead, he would have seen the flash on the street light on the metal gun, and seen a silencer being screwed onto the barrel. As it was he turned just in time to see the weapon raised and fired. The windscreen before him cracked in a star shape as the bullet passed through it and into his chest. The mobile phone slipped from his shaking fingers, and his hand covered the wound in his chest. He wanted to call the team, and, struggling to keep conscious, he whispered,

"Help me......." and passed out.