"Please! He's all I have left! Don't kill him! Daddy!"
"Come on, Natasha, keep crying. I love it when you beg."
"Daddy!"
I calmly walked into the BAU office, holding my Starbucks drink. Once I came into sight of the BAU team I stopped and smirked,
"Look who's back."
"Agent Renner." Hotch came up to me and shook my hand, "Nice to see you again."
"Likewise Hotch. How's Haley?"
"Very pregnant."
"Congrats, Hotch." I smiled.
"Baby cakes!" I turned and saw Derek.
"Cuddle muffin!" I set down my drink and ran over to Derek and he lifted me up in a hug.
"Where have you been, baby cakes?" He asked after he set me down.
"Oh, you know, here and there. Everywhere." I smiled, taking a sip of my coffee.
"Ew, you're still drinking that crap?"
"You're still single?"
"Okay, you two, we need to get to the jet." Hotch announced, "We'll catch you up on our way to Florida."
"There's a jet now?" I asked.
I got onto the jet and saw Reid with his head buried in a book. I walked down the aisle towards him but was stopped by a blonde,
"Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Jennifer Jareau, or J.J. I'm the Communications Liaison." She smiled, holding out her hand.
"Natasha Renner. I have no clue what my title is, but I'm pretty sure it's lengthy. Nice to meet you, J.J." I replied before walking past her and over to Spencer.
"Hey smarty pants. It's been a while, huh?"
Spencer's eyes widened as he stared at me, "Nat."
"I'm back." I smiled.
"Bombings occurred within 3 miles of each other. First victim was a 74-year-old widow, Barbara Keller. 2 hours after that, Clurman got hit in his driveway, and 45 minutes later..." Hotch said, "Well, we all saw that. Swenson, 34-year-old housewife who lived across the street from Clurman. Of the 3, only Clurman survived."
"Was there any connections between the victims?" I asked.
One. Clurman was a partner in a $10-million condo development deal in which Keller was an investor, and a few weeks ago, the whole deal went bust."
"Went bust how?" Elle questioned.
"Geologists discovered that the land was on methane, the condos never got built, the land became worthless, and Clurman lost a lot of people and a lot of money." Hotch answered.
"So maybe one of them was mad enough to take aim at Clurman." Spencer assumed.
"No, let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's a little too early to theorize about motive." Gideon responded.
"Then where do we start?" I asked.
"From the beginning. What do we know about bombers?" Gideon asked.
"Mostly male, loners, history of criminal activity. About 50% of all bombings are actually a product of vandalism." Spencer answered.
"And more often than not, bombers end up accidentally blowing themselves up, so the first suspects you always look for in the bombing case are the victims." Hotch said.
"Clurman was the only male. Losing a large business deal like that could be a powerful stressor." Elle continued.
"Well, then there's the crime scene. Clurman was the only victim who didn't get hit at his door. Why?" Gideon questioned, looking at the photo of the car that was bombed. "What was different about this one?"
"Before Clurman passed out, all he told cops at the time was that he saw the package sitting on the stoop outside his kitchen door." Hotch said when we got to the crime scene.
"Why didn't he take it in?" Elle asked.
"Why didn't it go off until he got to his car?" I asked," It's like 50 feet away."
"Joe Reese, one of Clurman's investors, was here before the bomb went off." Hotch stated. "The cops have ruled him out as a suspect, but he said he saw Clurman get in the car with the package."
"So maybe Clurman wasn't receiving a bomb after all. Maybe he was on his way to deliver one." I suggested.
"He drops it or tilts it, it goes off by accident." Spencer backed me up.
"I'd like to talk to Clurman." Gideon said, "In the meant time, let's get a warrant to search his house."
"Sir, yes, sir." I mumbled.
After questioning Mr. Clurman and searching the house, we all met up at the local police department.
"Morgan e-mailed these over. The three on the left are the bombs from yesterday. The one on the right's from the evidence room at Quantico." Hotch said, showing us the photos on his computer.
"They are all identical. They are made with steel reinforcement rods." I said.
"Adrian bale." Gideon randomly said.
"Who?"
"He held our agents in a standoff in boston last year. He took out 6 agents and a hostage with one of his bombs." Hotch elaborated.
"So you're thinking he's behind this?" Elle asked.
"Possibly, but he's in prison. He's got kind of a cult following, almost like Charles Manson. It could just be a copycat." Spencer said.
"There's one way to find out. Let's put the screws to this guy." Morrison replied.
"No, no, no. Bale's too smart." Gideon reacted, "If we want information from him, we have to handle him carefully. Even then you have to assume that road will lead to nowhere."
"You're saying the connection to Bale doesn't help us at all?" Morrison questioned.
"No. I'm just saying let us handle Bale."
"Look, we just heard from local texas P. D. You were right about Clurman's nephew. He admitted the bomb stuff was his, which is great for the Clurmans, but it leaves us with zero suspects." Morrison said. "So what do you suggest my men do now?"
"Proceed from the profile." Gideon answered.
"I didn't know we had a profile."
Then we met up with all the police who are in on this investigation,
"We're dealing with a bomber. We're talking about someone who's non-confrontational. If you bumped into him in a cafe, he'd apologize. If you bumped into him in a cafe, he'd apologize. Even if it wasn't his fault." Gideon began the profile.
"We would classify this bomber as highly organized, based on the meticulous design of his bombs. It means above average intelligence. He probably has a skilled job, a trade, one that allows him to work alone. That's how he was able to make a sophisticated device without raising suspicion. Furniture maker, jeweler, et cetera." Hotch continued.
"Background in explosives?" Morrison asked.
"No, not necessarily. You're thinking about a type who likes to blow things up. Gives them an emotional or sexual release. That's secondary." Gideon answered.
"Then what's this guy doing?" A police officer asked.
"Murdering. Bombs-just weapons. And these attacks, they are not random." Gideon answered.
"Well, how do you know that?"
"The process of elimination. We know bombers fall into a discreet number of categories according to motive. There's the terrorist whose aim is to spread fear. We'd expect him to strike in a populous area like a subway. There's the politically motivated bomber. He makes a statement by choosing a symbolic target like an abortion clinic. Then there's our unsub. He made bombs designed to kill and he chose his victims specifically by placing the bombs at their stoops. That tells us he has a direct motive." Hotch explained, "Statistically he bombs for profit or to conceal a crime. And it tells us how we're going to find him... through the people he killed."
"Somewhere among the three victims there is a direct motive. Keep digging."
"Thanks. Any questions, we'll be around." Hotch ended the meeting.
"You'll be around. I'll be in prison. Somebody's got to talk to Bale." Gideon replied.
"How we doing?" J.J asked as she walked into the room.
"Frustrated." Elle answered. "I can't see why anyone would want to kill a little old lady who collects cats and coins."
"Unless somebody wanted the coins. I spent a good chunk of my childhood looking for a 1944 penny worth thousands." Hotch replied and we all looked at him, "Yes, I was a little bit of a nerd. Is that so surprising?"
"Not to me." I answered.
The phone rang and Hotch immediately answered it,
"Morgan?"
Yeah. I just got the lab results from the powder residues on the bombs. Ammonia nitrate, potassium chloride, and aluminum powder. Nobody uses that mixture, Hotch." Morgan said.
"Nobody but Bale."
That's right. And the closer I look at these things, the more they're the same. Same weld pattern, same switch assembly, same thread sizing. It's weird, man. This guy's not building bombs, he's forging them. That's the other reason I'm calling you. Bale wrote addresses on his packages in block letters with blue ink. I'm thinking our guy's doing the same." Morgan continued.
"Ok. I'll set up a press conference, make sure the public knows." J.J said.
"Thanks, Morgan."
Hotch hung up and received another call on his cell phone, "Excuse me."
Once Hotch came back from another scene that had the bomb that had not exploded, thank god, I went up to him,
"I might have something. Barbara Keller was having trouble insuring some coins she bought. The insurance company thought they might be fake." I said.
"So the insurance company's blowing up annoying clients?"
"No, dumbass. What if someone sold her the fake coins? She's on to him, he shuts her up." I stated,
"Were these coins valuable enough to kill over?"
She told the insurance company she thought they might be worth $12,000." I continued.
"All right. Do you have any idea who sold her the coins?" Hotch asked.
"No, but she had an appointment with a coin dealer scheduled. I'm guessing to challenge the insurance company's appraisal. A guy named David Walker."
"So maybe he can help us figure out who sold her the coins." Hotch said,
So I went to go meet with him. His wife answered the door and she brought me out back to talk with him.
"What's he up to now?" The wife questioned.
"Sounds like a car." I replied as I grabbed my ringing phone,
"I hope he's not committing suicide." She said, "I won't be able to collect life insurance."
"Hotch?" I questioned, answering the phone,
"Nat, it's him. It's Walker."
The garage door opened and the car shot forward, "Get out of the way!"
I tackled the wife to the ground and grabbed my gun before standing up and shooting at the run away car. Once Hotch arrived on scene, I lead him to the garage.
"We got the organized part right." He said when he looked around.
We were looking at the electroplating on a coin when a police man called us over. On the wall, news paper clipping were tacked on the wall about Bale. 'The Best' was written under his name.
"So this is why he decided to use Bale's design." Hotch said.
I walked over to another table and looking under the tarp, "He was working on something."
I turned the officer, "Make sure Morrison tells your officers that this guy is smart, dangerous, and has absolutely nothing to lose."
We went back to the police department to meet up with Gideon and tell him what happened.
"He planted those bombs just to kill one little old lady?"
"Yep." I answered, "And to throw us all off, he made it look like it was much bigger than it was."
A man then walked into the room,
"Please, help me." He opened his sweater to show the bomb attached to him.
We all got our guns out, "Everyone, back, now. We need bomb squad in here." Morrison said.
"Please... it's not me."
"Don't come any closer." Morrison ordered, "Put your hands up and walk slowly out."
"I can't. He'll kill me." The man replied.
"Who will?" I asked.
"I don't know. He held a gun to me, put this on me. He said... you'll know who he is."
"What does he want?"
"A helicopter. And passport." The man answered. "He's watching. Once he gets what he wants, he's got instructions to defuse the bomb."
"Walker's close by." Gideon muttered.
"Let's get snipers on the perimeter." Morrison said.
"Ok, we understand. We're not gonna leave you." Gideon told the man.
"Please, take it off."
"We need to figure out how the bomb was put together first."
Another man took a photo of the bomb and took Hotch and Elle into the other room to look at it. Walker was spotted in the building across the street and Hotch made a plan to go surprise him.
"This feels wrong to me." Elle said as many of us walked to the building, "Why would Walker let himself be found so easily?"
"He wants to be found." Hotch answered.
"Why?"
"To negotiate."
"But then we lose the element of surprise. Hopefully, we catch him off guard, he may give himself up immediately. If not, we take a hard line and make him feel like he's got no way out. Remember, we have to take him alive. Walker's the only one who can defuse the necklace bomb." Hotch said and we stood outside the enterance. Everybody ready?"
"Yes, sir."
"We're entering the building." Hotch said into his speaker.
"Be careful. At the very least, we know he's got a gun."
"Copy that."
"We're approaching the door now."
"Copy that."
We all gathered around the 324C door and Hotch opened it. He grabbed a mirror from his jacket and looked into the room.
"David walker, federal agents. Federal agents!" Hotch looked at us and counted down before we rushed into the room, "Walker, freeze!"
"Ok. Please don't shoot!" Walker called out, hiding behind a shelf full of boxes,
"Show yourself! I'll shoot up the whole room."
"Ok..." Walker replied.
"All right, now put your hands up where I can see them." Hotch ordered.
"I can't do that."
"Then I'll shoot."
"My hand is on the remote. I told you what I want. The passport, the helicopter, the flight!" Walker exclaimed.
"Walker, listen to me. You're at the top of the FBI's most wanted list. I think you're smart enough to realize there's no way we're letting you go. Here's my counter offer: A chance to get out of here alive. All you have to do is give yourself up. Just slide the gun across the floor you have until 3, 1..." Hotch stated.
"You wouldn't let the hostage die."
"You wanna find out? Don't give yourself up. 2..."
"Ok! Ok. I'm coming out. Don't shoot." Walker gave up, sliding the gun towards us.
"Now walk slowly towards me. Let me see your hands, Walker." I walked into the room further towards where Walker was.
"Get out of there now!" I heard from Hotch's speaker.
"Go, go, go, go, go! Everybody out!" I turned the corner and saw Walker messing with something.
I quickly ran towards the door behind Hotch and Elle. The blast propelled me forward, sliding across the ground, but unharmed.
"Nat! You okay?!"
I stood up and brushed away ashes, "I'm good."
I groaned as I sat in the cushioned seat on the jet.
"Rough day?" Spencer smiled.
"I was almost blown up by some dude who tried to run over his wife. I'm allowed to be a bit sore, Spence." I replied, "It was a great first day back."
"We missed you, Nat."
I turned to look at him, "I know, smarty pants." I faced away from him,
"I missed you guys, too."