Please see disclaimer in Ch. 1.
"This is absolutely crazy, Agent Reid," Aaron Socha snapped. The warm demeanor he'd had when had spoken to the agent earlier had vanished, and now the man was working defense as though it were for his life. "Why the devil would I take out a policy on Eamon?"
"Mr. Socha, we know that Eamon's your only client. You've worked for him for years—'since he was nine,' you said—and should anything happen to him, you'd be looking for work. Was there any reason for you to think that you might not be working for him any longer?"
"Preposterous," Socha spat. "I'm telling you, I never took out a policy on him. What good is he to me dead? You think that looks good on a resume? Or in the press?"
Reid had to concede that point. Socha actually did better for himself as being the coach of a champion swimmer, the money notwithstanding.
"Look, I get it—kid goes missing and suddenly you look at everyone around him. But I'm not the guy."
Reid pulled a copy of the insurance policy out of his messenger bag and handed it to the seething man. "Then how do you explain this?"
Socha's eyes scanned the document, and Reid noticed that the more the man read, the wider his eyes got. His jaw began to slack and by the end of the last page even Reid himself could have knocked him over with a feather. "Oh my God," the man said, almost a whisper. "I never…this is…who would do this?!"
Reid shook his head. "That's what we're trying to find out."
Just then a flurry of footsteps filled the room, and Reid looked over his shoulders to see Emily and Morgan standing behind him, their eyes full of questions. Off to the side stood Kyle Parker, who was glaring at Socha as though the man had committed outright murder.
"Now what?" Socha asked, indignation in his voice but very slight.
"We need you to tell us everything that happened in that dressing room," Morgan said, his arms folded over his chest. "And I mean everything."
"Why?"
"Just go with them," Reid said.
"Fine. I went back to the center to get my binder. I walked in, saw Parker's coach gathering up his things. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't—I can't speak that language of his. Then I heard Eamon shouting in the other room."
"Shouting?" Emily said.
"I didn't think much of it—it was the same tone he's always got when he's hot about something. I listened a little more, and it seemed like he was yelling at Parker—though what good it did him, I don't know…"
"And?" Morgan's eyes danced with impatience.
"Well, then his voice changed. Look, I've known Eamon since he was a kid, and I can tell when he's pissed and when something's wrong. He started shouting—almost screaming. Then the gun went off, and I started running for the dressing room. Parker's coach followed me."
Kyle Parker signed something fast, and Reid was able to catch most of it. "How did Mr. Sutter know there was something wrong?"
"He looked at me, running as though I was trying to make marathon," Socha guessed. "I'm sure I couldn't have been looking healthy right then, with gunshots going off and Eamon screaming…I kinda bowled him over a bit, to be honest."
"Then what?"
Socha sighed. "I saw the guards lying on the floor, and Eamon was trying to pull away from those…those people," he said, loading venom onto the last word. "I called out and started over towards them, but then one of the men pulled out that damned gun…"
"That's when you got shot?" Emily asked.
"No, ma'am, that's when Parker's coach got shot. He was closer to the boys than I was, and they didn't miss. I tried to run, but I couldn't leave Eamon like that, I just couldn't…"
"So they shot you?"
"Yep. Tried to get over to them and this was my reward," Socha said, waving a hand at the giant hole recently made in his stomach.
Kyle had pulled out a small notebook, and began drawing something onto it. He'd been paying attention as Socha spoke, but something about the man's wounds bothered him.
"I'm telling you, I didn't try to have Eamon killed. Nor did I try to harm the Parker kid. I don't know how my name got on there, but I've never seen that document before, Agent Reid. On my life, I've never seen it."
Kyle signed something again, and this time Reid kept the bit of information to himself. He made his excuses and beckoned Kyle out of the room. –Why is the caliber important?—he asked.
--The size of that wound doesn't look anything like the size of Rick's wounds,-- Kyle said. –It's possible that there were two guns, but…--
--I'll have Garcia see if he's got access to weapons,-- Reid said.
--You believe him?-- Kyle's eyes spoke volumes.
--I don't know yet. I'd like to talk to your brother's coach, though, to confirm…--
Just then a message came through Kyle's phone. He read the screen, and then showed it to Reid: He's up.
----
--Rick?—
The coach felt the taps on his right arm. He slowly opened one eye to see Chase Davis sitting next to…well, whatever this was. Next to her were some faces he didn't recognize, and at the end was Kyle Parker, looking concerned. Turning his head to the left, Rick saw his old friend sitting in a chair next to him, the warm mirth usually found in John Parker's eyes replaced by deep anxiety.
He picked up his hands and tried to sign, but his left arm wasn't cooperating. He wriggled his hand, imitating a pen, and Chase pulled out a small notebook and a ballpoint.
Why can't I move my arm? the coach wrote.
--There's been some damage done to your arm, Rick,-- the young woman signed.
How bad?
The group around the bed looked uncomfortably around the room as John broke the news to him. –You won't be swimming any more races, Rick. But the doctors say you'll gain some of your hand movement back, in time.—
Rick closed his eyes as he took in that bit of information. The thought of not leading the kids into the water back at the Institute was a devastating blow to the man, who'd spent much of his life devoted to the sport of swimming.
How's Landon?
--That's why these people are here, Rick,-- Chase said. –We need to know what happened that night in the dressing room.—
He's not here? You didn't find him?
Chase, Kyle and John all shook their heads sadly.
Rick head nodded slightly on the white hospital pillow, and his lips were set in a thin line. When Oliver said Landon went back to get his suits, I knew something was wrong, he wrote. Landon doesn't usually pack up his things until the meet's over—I should know, I've known him since before he was born. I went over there to see what was the matter, but I got there and the first thing I saw was that kid Owen's coach picking something up from the coaches' area.
--A binder?-- Kyle asked.
Rick nodded. Looked like one. I started to walk through the room over to the dressing room and then the guy nearly topples me over trying to get through---
--Owen's coach?—
Another nod. It looked like something spooked him, so I followed—and then I saw those people grabbing onto Landon and trying to take him.
--What then?— a tall, thin man asked. Rick guessed it was one of Kyle's friends over at the FBI.
I ran over, tried to pull Landon away from them. That's when I got the first shot in me, but I knew if I let go I might never get him back.
--That's when you got the second one?— Kyle asked.
Rick nodded. I had to turn around, it hit me so hard. Then a third one came, but from the other direction—like it had come from where Owen's coach was standing. He was on the ground, though, so I know it wasn't him that shot me.
The tall man pursed his lips. –You're saying that there was someone else there?—
Rick slowly moved his head up and down. Someone didn't want us getting to the boys, he said. After that, it's a mystery. I passed out, and woke up a few minutes ago.
--Were the guards there? Owen's bodyguards?— Kyle asked.
Yes. They were on the ground before we got in there. That's why I knew I had to… Rick's hand dropped the pen, shaking uncontrollably.
Chase Davis stood up and started moving the people out of the room. Kyle began to follow her. –We'll come back later, Rick,-- she said, looking thoughtfully at John. –You get some rest.—
"Find him, Chase, Kyle," a strangled voice called out. Chase nodded her head once, then slipped through the door, closing it behind her.
--You know they will, Rick,-- his friend said, resigning himself to wait.
Using his one good hand, the injured man made three signs: --I hope so.—
----
In the conference room, the team was meeting with the members of the Grand Forks Police that were working with the university on the case.
"So you're saying those bombings were just a distraction?" Capt. Benson asked, looking rather chagrined.
"Looks like," replied Morgan. "The people we're looking for are part of a small collective that thrives on misdirection and guile to achieve their ends."
"The LIA, or Army de Liberacion Internationale, is a collective, like Agent Morgan described," Oliver added, jumping back into his old role as a counterterrorism expert. "They're based out of Venezuela, though there's active cells crisscrossing much of Southern and Central America. This is the first instance of a cell operating in the United States, but it probably won't be the last."
"And these are the people we think has the kids?" an officer asked, sounding skeptical.
"Responsible for the actual kidnap of them, yes," Oliver said. "The thing about this group is that they're not very well organized. Each cell has its own ideals on what the group should stand for, though there's a common link to the main base of operations and their cause."
"Basically, these individuals act as a sort of terrorism-for-hire group," Hotch said, picking up the briefing. "In this case, someone wanted Eamon Owen and Landon Parker abducted, and these people would have an extensive background in how to accomplish that."
"Why extensive?"
"Kidnap-for-ransom, or K&R, is the second largest means of attaining financial capital in Central and South America, after the exportation of drugs," Reid replied. "Given that these individuals probably have several members hailing from those areas, they've probably learned the best way to hide individuals in remote or hard-to-access areas, sometimes even for years. What makes this method of attaining funds difficult in this country is the access we have to much of our area of control, plus the severity with which kidnapping cases are investigated and punished. The concept of K&R doesn't work normally in the United States because the risk of being caught and punished for the crime is much too great, unlike in the remote parts of the jungles or mountains that these individuals might be used to."
"Wherever these people have taken Eamon and Landon, it's going to be a place people aren't going to have easy access to. It'll be vast, and finding them without some sort of clue to a starting point will be like looking for a needle in a haystack," Rossi added. "They might be in the Rockies, or buried in a part of a national forest or park area no one uses or visits much."
"Is this about money?" another officer asked. "I've got the Owen's trying to raise capital, though I've tried to tell them that it might not be necessary…"
"At this point, the motive for this abduction remains unclear," JJ confirmed. "We are, however, searching for those reasons. When we know more, you'll know more. Thank you."
The quick briefing broke up. Chase and Kyle walked over to Oliver, looking expectantly for something that might have been held back.
--"I've got nothing, guys,"—he said, looking defeated. –"Josh is searching for anything else he can on these guys, but they're too new and too unpredictable to be definitive about. Until there's a ransom note, or a message of some kind, there's really no way to know what the motive is."—
--Socha's got his name on an insurance policy taken out on Landon,-- Kyle said. –Reid showed it to me. Man swears on a stack he didn't take it out, but still…---
--"How much?"—
--Ten million, with double indemnity if he dies as part of a kidnap or terrorism plot.—
Chase stared at Kyle, who looked convinced enough to go hang the coach right now. –"Kyle, insurance policies can't be written to pay out for acts of terrorism,"—she said, her voice rising as she spoke.
--They can't?—
"They can't?" Oliver said.
"They can't?" Reid seconded, looking like he should receive the world's biggest idiot award.
--"No, they can't. Insuring for an act of terrorism is like insuring for an act of God—it's too unpredictable, at least in this country. It's safe to assume that Australia is geared the same way."—
"Then how did…"
--"Someone planted it, Reid. Or doctored up one on kidnap. That you can insure against. Not acts of terrorism."—
All four looked at each other, all wondering the same thing: if it wasn't Socha, then who's behind this thing? And why?
