Jail, Methos found, really hadn't improved too much over the years.
He sighed and pushed his picked at tray of food aside. He was, at least, in his own cell. Gideon had apologized profusely. Evidently something had gone wrong with Gideon's plan, whatever it had been, and instead of the local agents using Methos as a font of information they had latched onto him as the unsub.
Methos shifted on his cot; the orange jump suit they'd issued him didn't fit right. He could hear Gideon's raised voice somewhere beyond his line of sight. Probably in the booking area. Methos had an airtight alibi. He'd been in Majorca during the majority of the murders, unfortunately he'd been there under an assumed name. The last thing he needed was the F.B.I. digging into his many many aliases. So he'd called Macleod and hoped for the best. If worst came to worst he could suicide and hide for a decade or two.
The door to the holding cell area opened, Macleod and Gideon entered. Methos stood up from his cot and stretched cat-like, waited patiently by the door to his cell. The door opened and two angry faces greeted him.
"My apologies Ben. Mr Macleod here has supplied an alibi for the last three murders." Gideon said stiffly.
"Why didn't you just tell them you were staying with me in Paris?" Macleod growled. Methos looked annoyed. He really wanted to bear hug the Scot and buy him a bagful of whiskey but it was vital his facade not crack.
"They weren't exactly in the listening mood." He growled. Macleod pulled him into a hug that lasted just long enough to be firmly ambiguous. The two could have been lovers, old friends, or anything in between. Methos was amused by the gesture. Macleod might act like a meathead at times but he was quite bright when it mattered.
"If you gentleman could come with me I'd like to speak with you." Gideon said neutrally. Methos flashed real anger. Macleod's hand on his arm warned him to be nice. Methos looked down at Macleod's restraining hand for a moment and then shook it off.
"Can I change first?" He asked sourly. Gideon paused in front of a closed door.
"By all means. Your things are inside." Gideon said and pushed the door open. Methos' emergency bag was sitting on a wooden chair. It looked like an unused office. Methos relaxed pleased to be facing comfortable clothing, warm clothing, again. Macleod followed him in while Gideon waited outside. The two men spoke quickly and quietly.
"What is going on?"
"One of us is hunting and leaving the bodies for the Feds." Methos hissed. He wasn't sure the room wouldn't be bugged.
"Shit. Who would be that stupid?"
"Not stupid, crazy, this is deliberate." Methos growled slipping on a heavy sweatshirt. His coat was missing, probably in evidence somewhere.
"Who?"
"I can think of a few, I need you to get in touch with Joe, see who's around, we have to take this shithead down." Methos said tying his boot laces.
"Wait, how do you know an F.B.I. profiler?" Macleod asked frowning. Methos paused and looked up.
"I took a course from him the last time I was an undergrad. He's…insightful."
"That makes him dangerous." Macleod pointed out.
"It would be worse if I avoided him. Besides, now we know about this renegade-"
"What good does that do us if you out us? Or get killed?"
Methos finished tying his boots and stood straight.
"Talk to Joe Macleod." He said softly and opened the door. Gideon was down the hall, studying a cheap print depicting several birds in a shrub.
Gideon lead them to a comfortable conference room. A wide window had its shades open revealing the various agents at work. One end of the conference room was filled with a whiteboard; Hollywood typical photos and notes were taped and tacked to the board. Methos grunted at it.
"I would again like to apologize for your treatment." Gideon sighed, he seemed genuine.
"Don't Gideon it was logical, hasty but…well I don't blame them, or you." Methos sighed. Macleod remained standing while Methos sat. Methos glanced at Macleod and a faint smile crossed his features. Gideon sat as well.
He asked both men for a list of competent local swordsmen or anyone who could teach another person those kinds of skills. He asked about whether a butcher or someone with similar training could use a sword the way the unsub apparently had. Toward the end Methos spotted the glaring red light of a camera half hidden behind the whiteboard festooned with death. Rage, hot and sour filled him for a brief moment and then he pulled his gaze back to Gideon and focused on the current round of questions.
"The other man's body language is protective but subservient. Like a- a- bodyguard or maybe a parent." Reid said as the video of Gideon's 'chat' with Methos and Macleod played silently.
"I'm not sure what their relationship is, they could be lovers but Ben seems to resent Macleod at times, almost like –"
"Macleod is younger, lower ranking." Morgan interrupted. Reid nodded.
"Backgrounds?"
"Ben Pierson holds a dual doctorate in anthropology and ancient linguistics. He does a lot of freelance work and traveling. His birth certificate lists Cardiff, Wales in 1982, no parents never married. Duncan Macleod…. Is older, born in Scotland immigrated here twenty or so years ago, was a successful antiquities dealer, in the early 90s his fiancée was murdered, he sold his business and bought a dojo." Morgan recited.
"Sooo are these men viable suspects?" Emily asked. Gideon smiled softly at her, ever impatient.
"Yes but I don't think either is the unsub, they were both in Paris for three of the murders."
"Garcia is verifying their paper trail." J. J. said sitting down.
"Where are we on victimology?" Hotch asked.
"None of the victims had any visible scars or tattoos, each was in extremely good shape, the women in particular had well-built upper bodies suggesting weight training or some similar exercise regimen. So far none of the local gyms have been able to identify any of the victims as members but they're still checking. This is a health conscious town."
"Are they interviewing non standard fitness groups? Yoga, pilates-"
"Dojos?" Reid asked suddenly.
"The extreme fitness, the enhanced upper bodies in the women could be from martial arts training possibly even involving swords." Reid pointed out.
"So our unsub targets people who are also skilled with swords or at least martial arts, he wants a challenge, a hunt." Morgan muttered.
"I don't know, if you train with edged weapons you're going to get scars, if these victims are skilled swordsmen why don't they have any scars?" Emily pointed out.
"J.J. ask agent Mayer to concentrate on dojos, martial arts studios, anywhere a person could conceivably learn to use a sword." Hotch ordered. J. J. nodded and exited. Reid and the rest were still watching the video, it was nearly over.
"There!" Emily snapped. Reid paused the video. Ben was staring directly at the camera, an expression of angry loathing twisting his features.
"He really doesn't like being on camera." Morgan said.
"No, it's not being filmed, he knew he'd be on camera the minute he set foot on F.B.I. grounds, it's the deceit, the assumption that he would fall for it." Gideon said poking his head into the room, he stood with the door partially open.
"Macleod never noticed the camera. Or at least he didn't react to it." Emily added.
"Ben has the power, he seems to be the leader, Macleod is extremely protective of him but subservient, he looks for Ben's lead." Hotch murmured.
"Morgan, find out how much of their story Garcia can confirm, we aren't ruling them out –"
Mayer burst into the room pushing past Gideon and interrupting the older agent.
"We have another victim. Body was found in an underpass just outside Tacoma, on tribal land."
"Reid, you and Prentiss with me, the rest of you work the victimology, Morgan get with Garcia we need to triple check those alibis. J.J. set up a press conference we need to reach out to potential victims and anyone that might know the current victims."
"It's possible the unsub will run out of viable targets, move on, we need to stop him here, now. before he moves on and we lose him." Hotch pointed out.
"Hey sugar what've you got?" Morgan asked.
Garcia smiled, her pert neon pink lips curving in joy as Morgan's familiar voice filled her small office.
"Ahh my sweet I have a mystery for you."
"Spill baby girl." Morgan laughed.
"Okay, August fifteenth I have one Duncan Macleod home address in Seacouver, WA arriving in Paris. I do not have any arrival information for Ben Pierson, but, on August twentieth an Adam Pierson arrived at Charles De Gaulle airport."
"Adam Pierson?"
"Yep, now Adam is fifteen years older than Ben but none of their information lines up, except for this. Both hold PhDs in obscure languages. Adam specialized in ancient Mesopotamian and Ben is an expert in Akkadian and Egyptian."
"Sooo either Ben has a big brother or –"
"Or he's not Ben Pierson."
"Good work Garcia, keep digging."
"Your wish is my command lover."
"Mac, get out of town, disappear." Methos growled. He was using his cell, he would make one more call on it and then ditch it, and do away with Ben Pierson for good. He'd pushed his luck too far and now Gideon's team was onto him. Several wyrms he'd buried as a backdoor alarm on his various aliases had been set off. He had to assume the B.A.U had someone digging into his background. Whoever it was had a light touch and an instinctive grasp of programming. He or she had dismantled most of his safeguards almost effortlessly, only his alarm wyrm had saved his ass.
"M-"
"Don't argue, we're burned, the B.A.U is chewing through my identities like taffy and you're next."
The phone went dead. Methos sighed and dialed Gideon.
"Yeah?"
"Gideon." Methos said and fell silent. He wasn't sure what to say.
"Yeah?" Jason asked answering the unknown number.
"Gideon." It was Ben, and he wasn't asking a question. He snapped his fingers at Emily, she rushed to get a trace started.
"Ben?"
"Gideon, I … I wish you hadn't checked up on me."
"Did you kill those people?" Gideon demanded.
"No, I didn't but I can't prove it. I.." Long pause sound of a deep breath.
"Ben, I know you're running from something if you didn't kill these people –"
"I'm going to stop him Gideon. Goodbye."
Methos pulled the sim card out of the phone, threw the phone in the trash and ground the card under his heel. He was certain they'd still be able to get data off it if they found it so he chucked it into a storm drain.
"Bring him in, now." Gideon ordered. Mayer nodded and picked up a phone.
"What about Macleod?" Morgan asked
"He's more settled here, owns a business, has friends it might take him longer to disappear. Macleod feels protective toward Ben if Ben bolts or tries to kill again Macleod might lead us to him." Reid said.
Gideon nodded.
The BAU missed both immortals. Methos and Macleod met in a derelict area of the docks after sunset.
Methos was sitting at the end of a pier, legs dangling over the water, naked sword lying on the weathered wood at his side. Macleod's familiar stealthy steps warned him of the other immortal's presence almost as fast as the sense of the other man's quickening. Methos twitched but didn't rise.
"Little trusting." Macleod complained. He didn't sit.
"Did you talk to Joe?" Methos asked.
"The Watchers are going out of their minds over this guy. Nearly started another civil war. He's a local, kept his head down and stayed out of the Game for the most part."
"First death?"
"As far as the Watcher's know a mugging, he was 29."
"When?"
"Six years ago, his teacher gave him no more than the basics and moved on. He's mostly self-taught but he's held his own. Taken a little over a head a year since his first death. "
"Why haven't they sent the cleaners?" Methos asked. The cleaners were an unpleasant necessity when an immortal went rogue and no other immortal stepped up the cleaners would incapacitate and imprison the rogue, taking him or her out of the game and preserving the secret of immortal existence.
"Joe said they were basically disbanded, after the civil war everything was in chaos, no one wanted things to start up again so they were re-assigned. Scattered. It's taking time to bring them back together again."
"He's been killing for half a year."
"The Watchers fuck things up, you know that better than anyone. Give them two choices, one that will damn them and one that won't and they'll damn themselves every time." Macleod growled. Methos nodded.
"Got an address?" Both men knew this kill was too important to screw up. They would violate the rules of the Game because this was not part of the Game this was beyond it. They would work together to bring the madman down.
"Yeah."
"Okay, let's go." Methos sighed.
"Yeah, he's in the city. His name is Russ."
"I don't care about his name." Methos said icily.