The Collection
Chapter 2
Acuera Island

"How I wish that somewhere there existed an island for those who are wise and of good will" - Albert Einstein

The cop who met them at the harbour looked about ready for retirement. He was about sixty; long grey hair tied back and weather beaten face, and very much a Native American. He shook their hands in a friendly but official manner and introduced himself as sergeant Flyer.

"I have a car here to take you back."

"I'll stay here with the boat." Brian said. "I need to check some things out."

Hotch inclined his head in acknowledgement, and he, Reid and Rossi went with Flyer to the car, a red Mustang. Reid's eyes went wide with approval.

"Very nice!" said Dave, running his hand along the sleek lines. "We get SUV's!"

"It's mine. We don't get cars supplied." Flyer laughed. "There's not a lot to spend money on out here. Crime rate is very low too. Which is why this came as such a shock!"

"How did Hunt get here?" Hotch inquired as he got in the front beside Flyer.

"He had a little boat. We've impounded it. Do you want to toe it back to the mainland?"

"Yes, if you could arrange that, we'd be grateful."

It didn't take long to get to the town, as they liked to call it. Flyer stopped outside a small purpose built brick building, and Hotch asked if they could pick up Hunt right away.

"We won't be taking him back in the Mustang, will we?"

Flyer pointed to a van parked nearby. It had been converted into a prisoner transport van, and Hotch indicated to the others to go and check it out. He didn't want any surprises en route. It wasn't that he didn't trust Flyer and his team, but they weren't used to dealing with people like Hunt.

Flyer watched briefly as Dave and Spencer crossed to the van, and then he turned to Hotch. "This way, Agent Hotchner."

"Thank you." Hotch replied, and followed Flyer into the building.

Down stairs in the basement, there was one cell, and a guard sitting outside playing solitaire. It reminded Hotch of a sheriff's office and jail cell in the old westerns. There was a guitar leaning against the wall. The guard stood up when Flyer came down the steps. Hotch had to suppress surprise that he looked nothing like Gene Autry.

Hunt was sitting at a bolted down table in the cell. He had been cuffed and his ankles were chained. He wouldn't be running anywhere, and certainly not swimming! Hunt looked at Hotch, eyes blazing with pure malice.

"I see that you remember me." Hotch said, taking his side arm from his belt as the guard unlocked the door. Hunt was pulled to his feet by the guard and Flyer walked behind him and they left the cell. Hunt didn't take his eyes off Hotch, and as he passed him on leaving the cell, he pulled towards him.

"It won't always be this easy." he hissed. "Remember you have a family!"

Hotch didn't react outwardly to this threat. It had happened before. But this man had killed seven members of a family, ages from seventy eight down to three months - because he had an argument with the father. As well as the women he raped and killed.. Inwardly Hotch's guts twisted with fear. He would call Morgan and ask him to arrange a watch for Haley and Jack

This is where it gets nasty…….

"Keep walking!" Flyer pushed Hunt towards the steps. Hunt scowled at him, and walked forwards

As they climbed the steps, Hotch heard the guard strum a cord on the guitar. Very atmospheric!

Hotch followed Hunt and Flyer out to the van. Reid came over to Hotch. "Security looks fine on the van." he said. "Do you want me to ride in the back with Hunt?"

"Yes." Hotch said, "And Dave, I will be driving." he turned to Flyer and shook his hand.

"Glad to see the back of that one." Flyer said.

"This is the most dangerous part of the journey." Hotch said. "I will drive the van, and leave it at the harbour. It is not necessary to put you in danger."

"But I…."

"We are trained for this kind of thing, you are not. Thank you again for the smooth arrangements, and I hope that nothing like this happens again."

Flyer gripped Hotch's hand. "And thank you, Agent Hotchner, for coming so quickly."

Reid took Hunt by the elbow and steered him to the back of the van. Hunt started to laugh.

"So is this 'take your kid to work' week?" he said looking at Reid with distain.

"Get in the van." Reid said. When he was in, Reid clipped the ankle chain to the bar that ran along the length of the van under the seat. Then he and Rossi sat opposite him, where they could watch every movement. Both agents had their hands on their guns. Aaron pushed the doors closed, and they heard the locks spring across. Hotch went round to the front of the van and climbed into the driving seat.

"Are you all secure in the back?" he asked.

"Yes, and ready to go." said Dave. Hotch started the engine, and began the short drive back to the harbour.

-0-0-0-

As the Mustang pulled up in front of the police building, Brian was doing a quick check of the engine. It had been making a noise on the way over. Probably nothing, but with Hunt on board, he didn't want to take any unnecessary chances. He didn't mention it to Hotchner; he didn't want to worry him.

He wiped the sweat off his face with a cloth he was holding, and reached into the engine bay to check the mounts.

Yes. One of them needed tightening. He reached for a spanner, and quickly tightened the nut and bolt. He gave the engine a shake, and there was no movement. Good. Another glass of lemonade and ten minutes in the sun.

He turned around and was looking at a gun pointing in his face.

The last thing his mind registered was the movement of a finger on the trigger. Brains and skull fragments sprayed across the engine bay and the rest on Watson's body crumpled to the deck. The killer took Watson's gun and dragged the bleeding corpse up the steps into the galley. A bag of heavy rocks was tied to his feet, and the killer dragged him outside and tipped him over the edge into the sea. He threw a bucket of water over the deck to wash away most of the blood, (He didn't want it to be seen, at least, not right away,) and settled himself down in the galley with a drink.

Oh man it was hot today!

-0-0-0-

Hotch stopped the van as close as he could get to the boat. He saw that Hunt's tiny craft had been tied alongside Brian's. That was good. He'd get the CSU to check it over. There could be evidence of more of this evil man's killings. Hotch was pretty sure there were far more than they had found. Serial killers rarely went from nothing to the unbridled savagery he had seen so far. He turned in his seat.

"Ok, we are here. I am coming round now to unlock the doors." Hotch jumped from the van and walked around the back, checking all around for anywhere that snipers could be lying in wait. Swinging his side arm to cover the area, he unlocked the door. His agents were waiting, having unclipped the chain from the under seat restraint, they were standing behind him, guns ready.

"Right," Hotch said. "Get out."

Hunt stepped down off the van tail, and stood almost nose to nose with Hotch. Hotch didn't flinch, his dark eyes burning, he pressed the gun into Hunt's midsection.

"Jack, isn't it?" Hunt said, smiling at him. Hotch said nothing, and their eyes locked.

"Move!" Dave said, grabbing Hunt by the elbow, he pushed him towards the boat.

"Where's Detective Watson?" Reid said, frowning behind his sunglasses.

"He's probably had enough sun." Dave said.

Hotch stepped down onto the deck and reached up to steady Hunt. Reid and Rossi followed, guns still ready in case he tried anything.

When the four of them were on deck, Hotch said, "If you would take Hunt down, I'll get Watson to start her up. The sooner we're out of here, the happier I will be."

Aaron went to the door leading down into the galley while the others pushed Hunt towards the door leading down to the cell.

It was dark in the galley; Hotch wondered why Brian had closed the shutters. He went half way down the steps, and that was when he saw the blood.

Not spots of blood; huge strings of thick dark blood.

Oh my god, what's happened here?

"Brian?" Hotch called into the darkness. He took a couple of steps into the room. That was when he felt the cold steel of a gun barrel on the back of his neck.

"Drop the weapon, and hands behind tour head,"

Aaron put his arms out and dropped the gun to the deck. He raised them up and clasped his hands behind his neck.

"Now walk in front of me back up the steps."

The boat rocked as someone came on board. "Where is Detective Watson?" Aaron asked, voice steady.

As an answer, the killer turned his gun around and hit Aaron on the side of his head. He fell sideways from the steps and lay stunned on the deck.

"Get up. And don't speak unless you are asked a question. Now let's try that again. Get up the steps."

Aaron climbed unsteadily to his feet, and began the ascent out of the darkness. He could feel blood on his face, and his ear hurt. He thought the top of his ear was split. Once he slipped, and fell on his face against the steps. The gun pressed harder into his neck by way of a reminder. He got onto his knees and struggled to his feet. It was difficult to balance with his hands behind his head. When he stepped out into the sunshine, he saw two men on the deck. One looked Aryan, European. The other of Spanish descent. The three closed in on Hotch.

"Where id Hunt?"

"I don't know. He's…." He stopped speaking as the Aryan's shotgun was pressed under his chin.

"Do we want this one?" he asked.

"Cool it, Bjorn. We might get something for him. He's in good condition. We don't want to attract attention either. If we need to get rid of anyone, we can do it out at sea." He tilted his head towards the other door. "Hunt is down there, being put in the cell. When the other two come up, they probably won't be armed. Rossendo, wait by the door for them."

The Spaniard went and stood where he was told, the guy behind Aaron carried on issuing orders. "Bjorn, get this crate started. I want to get out of here."

The Aryan looked again at Hotch, then gave his shotgun to the boss, and went through the galley door, down into the engine room. A moment later, the engines started, and the craft moved off the landing stage.

Aaron was watching the other door. He heard Dave and Spencer talking as they approached the door.

When he thought they were close to coming through, Aaron shouted, "GUN!" and threw himself to the deck. There was a volley of gun fire and a scream. He went to get up onto his hands and knees, when he felt a bullet in his back. As he collapsed back down, he heard a cry and the sound of something or someone falling, and at the very edge of his vision, he watched a pool of blood spreading across the deck.

A wave of dizziness flooded over him and everything faded into blackness as he fainted with shock.