The French Connection

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Not that I would claim otherwise.

Summary: While passing the time at the BAU, the team hears a story...

A/N: Thanks a lot to everyone who reviewed, favorited and follows this story, I honestly didn't think it was good but you all seem to like it, so here we go.

Here's chapter two. I'm not sure how long this will be, so bare with me on this. Enjoy.

Thanks for reading, don't forget to leave a review.

"History will be kind to me for I intend to write it." Winston Churchill

As Stone walked across the open space of the Renaissance hotel, he paused as he reached the check in bumping into a young man.

"Oh, so... so... sorry," the younger man stammered out as he made his way over to the elevator.

"It's quite all right," Stone murmured before moving to the front of the line.

"May I help you?" the male concierge asked.

"Reservation for Stone," he said, his attention briefly distracted by a leggy blonde brushing pass him as she made her way to the dining room.

"Ah, here you go," the concierge said, interrupted his lustful gaze, "Sir?"

Stone slid his hand into his back pocket, pausing as he felt around for his wallet than checking his other pocket, "Sorry."

As the passed the card to the younger man, the dark-haired man sought out the blonde and was briefly disappointed that she was no longer visible to his line of sight.

"Here you go Mister... oh, Agent Stone," the concierge corrected himself, "Is there something the hotel needs to be aware of, sir?"

Sliding his hand carefully across the marbled counter, Stone pocketed his hotel key, "No."

"Very well, sir," the man cooly retorted before passing along a copy of his receipt, "Bell boy."

After situating himself into his room, Raymond looked out the window at the twinkling night sky, marveling at the sight. It had been awhile since he had time for himself, even the slightest vacation and he wanted to take the few brief minutes that allowed him to soak in the ambiance, before checking his watch, noting that he had to head to the Convention Center.

As he walked out of his room towards the elevator, he was distracted by the sound of an angry man berating the young bell boy who looked like he was going to pee his pants. Shaking his head, Stone raised his eyebrow at that but pressed the down button turning his head while the elevator doors closed.

Once he made it into the safe confines of the convention center, he quickly made his way over to the podium set up, keeping his eyes trained on the legal pad on the table.

"Don't you ever tell me that again!" he heard the echoing loud voice of a young woman screaming in to the house phone by the stage, "Because I'm tired of jealous psychos that's why."

As he turned his attention to the growing crowd of fellow visiting agents. Taking a seat at a round table to the side of the room, he took stock in the arrivals noting the conventioneers each finding their own assigned seats while Stone leaned back trying to relax in the large room.

"Hey Lucas," a man called out, "How's the mid-west treating you?"

"Not as well as San Francisco's treating you, huh?" Lucas called back, "Did you ever get in touch with McClain?"

"Nah, Fat Bastard's avoiding me like the plague," the second man called out, "Let's do drinks after this thing is over?"

"Sure thing," Lucas agreed, taking a seat close enough to Stone's table to hear the man's sarcastically muttering, "That'll be a freaking blast."

The agent sighed, taking a chanced glance at his watch, "How long is this going to go on?"

"You say something, sir?" a perky woman asked turning in her seat.

"No, no dear," Stone waved it off, embarrassed that he drew attention to himself. He was by no means a shy man, but during his working hours he liked to keep a professional decorum, "Sorry, miss...?"

"Laura," she extended her hand, "Laura Anderson."

"Laura," Stone greeted, "Do you know when these things start?"

He took in the younger woman's appearance. Like most of the other people here, he was older than everyone; seniority had that wherever he went but always went out of his way to be open to anyone who approached him.

"Oh, I have no idea," she admitted, turning in her chair, "This is my first time here."

"You're a new agent?" he questioned her.

"Me? An agent?" she chuckled, covering her hand with her mouth, "Nope, I'm a journalist for the D.C. Press. My boss was supposed to be here but she trip and broke her ankle over her daughter's wheelie shoes."

"Wheelie shoes?" Stone pondered, shrugging, "Oh."

"Yeah," she said, "So, you haven't been here before either?"

"No, I actively avoid these things," he admitted hearing the woman chuckle at that.

Both paused when they saw man walk across the podium testing the microphone before returning to the back of the stage.

"So how come you were roped in if you had successfully avoided these things?" she asked, picking up her iPad, "You don't mind if I take notes do you?"

"With that thing?" Stone asked, looking at Laura's iPad, "Whatever happened to the good old days of pen and paper?"

"Long gone, I'm afraid," she teased, "So you're sure?"

Nodding the pair talked for a while until a vibrating came from the older man's coat pocket, "Sorry."

"No, please it's ok," she waved it off, getting up from her seat walking to the coffee.

"Stone," he answered, mentally rolling his eyes at the sound of his bosses shrilling tone, "And how are you this evening?"

Standing up, Stone moved across the side of the room. Giving Laura passing nod before leaving the large convention room.

"I understand," he agreed, "Of course. I'll go back there now."

Hanging up, he pocketed his cell phone, shaking his head in wonderment if he'd ever catch a break. It wasn't as though he wanted to not do his job, but he'd rather hurry up with his work.

Stone entered the lobby of his hotel, pausing as he searched his pocket for his key card, once he was satisfied that it was in place, he was stopped by a man only a few years younger than him.

"Excuse me, Agent Stone?" the man asked.

"Yes?"

"Detective Jesse Reese," he flashed his badge, "D.C. police."

"How may I help you, detective?" he asked, both men moving through the lobby towards the elevator.

"We just spoke with your Section Chief," the officer started, "We need your help on a case that just popped up in our district."

The agent nodded for the younger man to continue, "A murder-homicide just fell into our lap. We believe our suspect might target a gallery opening."

"And my Section Chief signed off on this?" Stone asked, as the two men moved out-of-the-way of the opening elevator, "My unit only handles high risked cases. What can you tell me about your UnSub?"

"He murdered a receptionist at a gallery opening," Reese paused, taking a deep breath, "The poor girl was eviscerated and the Mayor thought he'd ask. So..."

Both men entered the elevator, descending on to the agent's floor.

"Let me grab a few things before we check out the last crime scene," he answered, the two men walking to the older man's hotel room.

A loud crash startled the dark-haired man who narrowed his eyes on the cause of disruption.

"Oops, my bad?" Garcia apologetically squeaked out, her shoulders rising.

"Must you interrupt my story?" Dave asked, his fingers thrumming on the round table. One thing that everyone could see clearly was that the man was not amused.

"I said, 'my bad'," the technical analyst reiterated, "How else should I say it?"

Tilting his head to the side, he could tell without even looking that every other person in the room, Reid included, knew that this was a moment to test ones will.

"How about you sit down and let me finish?" he offered, he didn't want to lose his patients, especially with a computer whiz who could make his millions disappear before he even blinked.

"Yeah, cause this story is moving along so well," Emily muttered to the blonde agent beside her.

"Getting back to the story..." Dave enunciated, ignoring the eye roll from the senior agents on his team.

While Stone kneeled down next to the know contained crime scene examining what little evidence was left, Reese had leaned back taking in the scene.

"You see anything?" the younger man asked the agent.

"The UnSub took great pride at containing the scene," Stone said, getting on one knee as he stood up, "He had to make sure that there was nothing left that could be traced back to him."

"So we're not thinking of a garden variety psycho," Reese commented, "Someone smart, organized and..."

"Methodical," Stone added, "Leaving this woman's body here at the gallery, it shows that he had her on display."

Reese paused, "You mean like he had no regard for her human life?"

"Exactly," Stone agreed, "This woman... what was her name again?"

"Turner, Michelle Turner," Reese replied, folding his arms across his chest, "Do you think the killer will strike again at the new opening?"

"Possible," Stone said, giving the woman's last destination spot a sad look, "We need to go back over the evidence at your precinct."

"Actually they're sending everything over to your hotel room," Reese informed the agent, "The faster we get through, the faster we catch the killer. If that's alright with you."

"Anyway works with me," Stone commented, the two men heading back to parking lot.

As they piled over the paper work in his room, Stone felt the sharpness of sitting too long begin to take effect. Standing up, he picked up the file silently reading to himself when a thought occurred to him.

"Reese?" he called out, turning to the younger officer, "How long was it from when the body was found that the paintings had been reported missing?"

"Um," Reese looked down at the file before him, "Not long, within a half hour... why?"

"Because," he explained, "If this were a pro job then it would've been done the instant the body hit the ground, but since Michelle Turner had some time in lividity then..."

"The doer was still in the gallery and they took the painting while everyone was focused on the body," Reese finalized.

"Exactly," Stone theorized, "Because it's fairly obvious that there's more than one UnSub. It's a pack effort."

Reese palmed his chin, stroking in it as he pondered, "Are we sure about this?"

"Fairly certain," the older man paused, something picking at the back of his brain but he couldn't put his finger on it, "Here's what we'll do."

While the two men went over their plan to capture the UnSub and their possible partners, a shadowy figure stood off to the side watching the agent and the detective.

"So that's how it's going to be?" they whispered to themselves.

The next afternoon, Stone and Reese were speaking quietly with the gallery security when something caught the agent's attention.

"You all right, man?" Reese asked watching the other man quietly move away from the small group to the other side of the gallery.

The detective kept his eyes trained on the agent, watching as he maneuvered himself to a young woman. Reese rolled his eyes as he watched Stone speak quietly to a woman.

"Are you kidding me?" he murmured to himself.

"This is Tricia Goodwin with KATZ News," a news reporter started, "We're here live at the Scott Galleries ready for the tonight's unveiling of the latest Cole exhibit," as the female reporter turned sideways allowing the camera crew to take in the backdrop, "Despite the high tension with the recent murder of Michelle Turner and no leads as to who the killer is, the police and FBI assure the public that they have we have nothing to worry about."

Reese shut his eyes at that, taking a deep breath he focused back on the Stone and the woman. The younger man raised an eyebrow, wondering how the man could just switch off from investigating a murder to picking up a woman in an art gallery...

"And there it is," Stone said, holding up a scrap of paper.

"What, you got her number?" Reese asked, trying to hide the irritation in his tone.

"Excuse me?" the agent flabbergasted, "I, what?"

"Got the girl's home number," the younger man reiterated.

"No," Stone adamantly denied, passing the paper to the detective, "This in case you can't read, my good man, is the personal line that will keep us in contact with Kimberly Corman."

"Who?" Reese asked.

"Kimberly was, is, one of the best undercover agents I have ever met in my tenor at the Bureau," the agent told him, "Despite her rookie status, she has come proven herself on some very hard cases."

"Good for her," Reese told him, "So what will happen?"

"Come here," the man said, leading him away from the crowd.

Once the gala showing proceeded underway Stone, Reese and a few non-uniformed officers mingled in with the guests, trying their best to blend in. But in Stone's opinion it was like sticking a screen door on a submarine, it just mesh well.

While Stone kept his eyes on Kimberly interacting with several art patrons, he saw Laura and smiled. The pleasant woman was talking with a younger man, one that Stone thought was he recognized but he didn't know where from.

"Everything all right?" Reese asked.

As the agent slowly did a one-eighty, scanning the room he frowned. Something was wrong, that much he knew, but what was it?

While Reese looked on, Stone slowly made his way to the back of the gallery nearly mowing down a beautiful brunette.

"Sorry," he murmured, trying to move pass the beautiful woman who sent him a warm smile as she maneuvered her way around him.

"That's quite all right," she replied before slipping into the massive crowd.

When Stone finally finagled his way to the backroom, the lights quickly went out and the last thing he felt was a sharp blow to the back of his head as he fell to the floor.

Marcus Tullius Cicero said, "History is the witness that testifies to the passing of time; it illumines reality, vitalizes memory, provides guidance in daily life, and brings us tidings of antiquity."

To Be Continued...

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. FYI, did you notice the names of the characters? Major kudos to whoever figures out who they are and what they're from...

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