Chapter 10: Prentiss

Reid sat by Michele's bed, feeling as though he might cry. The team didn't know, but she was his- well, like his little sister. She was sleeping now, after an exhausting cognitive interview. She hadn't seen much of the men, and they hadn't spoken, but she was able to see that they were both big, linebacker-like men with heads completely shaved.

Then Reid remembered them, the two men sitting across the restaurant from the agents. They had left not minutes after Michele had. How could he have missed them? They had had swastikas tattooed on their wrists, he'd glimpsed that much. Cursing himself for his stupidity, his inability to see, that had led to Michele lying here like this, Reid felt himself starting to cry. But there was a soft knock on the door of the hospital room. Doing his best to hide his tears, Reid opened it, only to find Prentiss standing on the other side.

"I told the rest of the team- they're busy working with Garcia and the database of missing kids and records, trying to tell which missing kids "belong" to which unsubs- that I'd come talk to Michele as well, because she might be more comfortable talking to a woman. But I see you've already got a good description." Reid was holding a piece of paper, on which he'd drawn his and Michele's best recollection of her attackers. "But I also wanted to talk to you. Privately," Prentiss continued, shifting almost nervously from foot to foot. "Your brilliant mind has been elsewhere for this whole case. You seem so worried, and it's almost like…like…you…this is an unsub you don't feel like catching. What's going on? Why are you crying?"

"I knew Michele," he began, leading Prentiss back into the young woman's room and shutting the door. Michele was out like a rock anyway; she wouldn't hear. They might as well have been alone. Reid lifted the bangs of his hair that fell around his neck, showing Prentiss a tattoo. He had gotten it not long after his abduction by the Alliance; everyone in the organization had one. It was a small, muted white rose. That symbol came out of a Nazi resistance group in Germany by that name, that had fought Hitler even as their members were killed and imprisoned. He then, careful not to hurt or wake her, lifted Michele's head an inch off her pillows so that Prentiss could see she also had the tattoo.

"So you have the same tattoo? You must have been good friends," Prentiss deduced.

Reid swallowed hard. With this case, the truth about him was bound to come out eventually, and Prentiss, after all, seemed to be the one who supported his "hypothesis" that the unsubs were in fact protecting the children, the most. "Our theory that these kidnappings are connected to neo-Nazism and/or white supremacy is true. But not in the way you'd think. Remember my theory that the unsubs are providing protective custody? That's no theory. I know that for sure because…" he suddenly couldn't finish the sentence.

"Why?" Prentiss pressed.

"This network of unsubs kidnapped me, too. Because of my mom's schizophrenia. These neo-Nazi agents were after me even at nine years old. They target children, and don't stop until the target's eliminated. But our so-called "unsubs" were watching me as well. They knew I was in danger. If I hadn't been kidnapped, I wouldn't be alive today. And my name's not Spencer Reid. It's Reid Spencer. They had to change it somehow. Then they let me go on my own when I was sixteen- I got accepted early to Oxford, and by then, my guardians thought I could protect myself. Emily, we can't go after and arrest these people! Most of the kids they're protecting still can't protect themselves. And as soon as the story of these kids hits the media, if they show even one picture of them, or the location, that would be like giving these neo-Nazi bastards an engraved invitation to come kill them. Regular protective custody isn't good enough because these killers just won't stop. The kids needed to disappear, which they have. New identities, new countries…I know most families miss them, but if we break in and be heroes and "return" the children, they will die-"

"Wait!" Prentiss interrupted. "This means you know where the kids are being held! Does anyone else on the team know about you?"

"Just Garcia. She found my paper trail and figured it out herself."

"Reid or Spencer or whoever you actually are," Prentiss sighed. "I believe you, especially if Garcia has proof. But, where do we go from here? We can try to redirect the investigation so that we go after the real unsubs, the neo-Nazis, or we could sabotage the whole thing. But this team is very, very good at their jobs. They will find the people holding these kids. You know where they are, so any ideas?"

Reid shook his head. "Nothing yet. I need time to think."

In the underground chambers below the chalet on the mountain, a woman cried out in surprise, then pain. "Aleksey, Katie, I think my water just broke! It's two weeks early though- owwwww!" She winced. "The contractions have already started. She really wants to come out! Just take me to the medical area down here, I don't even know if I'd make it to the hospital."

Aleksey's satellite phone rang in tune with his fiancee's groans. "Evacuate within the next 48 hours…impossible! I know there's been suspicions that Interpol and these other agents have been sniffing around the house above the entrance to here, but as long as they don't know the key code, we're safe. And, damnit, I can't fight or leave now! Anna just went into labor!" But, just in case, after she'd been safely ensconced in the medical unit, he ran back out for an extra handgun for each of the three of them, an AK-47, and bulletproof vests. If the police were going to break in here, he would at least go down protecting his wife, his soon-to-be-born daughter, and Katie.

A few hours later, Reid sat bolt upright in his dark hotel room. It was midnight. The idea had been kicking around in his brain for quite some time, and now that Prentiss knew about him, even though what he was about to do was incredibly risky, he couldn't do it alone. Garcia couldn't come with them- she had almost no field experience, and besides, was still unraveling the case even at this time of night. But he sent her a text explaining what he was going to do.

"I'm driving," Prentiss insisted as she and Reid slipped out the back door. Their twenty-minute journey in the black SUV, out of Zurich and up the same mountain where the rest of the team had gone before to interview Dr. Nedeau, was conducted mostly in silence, a tense Reid only speaking when he needed to tell Prentiss where to go. They parked off the road below the house and walked the last quarter-mile.

"A "soft" entry is best in this case, Emily," Reid explained. "Clearly, these Alliance members are not bad or naturally violent people, but if they see guns and vests and a break-in, they might think we're Interpol or even the Weisse Macht. In that case, their first priority is to protect the children, both from being physically harmed and from being "found out," if you will. So they would shoot first and ask questions later. They're very well-armed with all sorts of guns and body armor that they will get at a moment's notice, and even the children have to be able to shoot. And they would. We don't want to scare them." By then, they had arrived at the back door of the house; Reid pulled a bent paperclip from his pocket and picked the lock. They found themselves in a small storage room with two doors. One led to the house, the other, to a basement. Cautioning Emily to be quiet, they slunk down the stone steps. After a little fumbling around in the dark, Reid found the familiar entrance; a secret door in the back of the basement. Two cameras and a nine-digit number entry system was all that stood between the Weisse Macht and the children.

"Hold my hand," Reid whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "If someone's watching the camera and asks who you are, you're my wife, and I wanted you to meet my guardian and see how I lived." She did as she was asked, but the guard for the cameras must have been asleep at his post; no voice was forthcoming from the loudspeaker on the wall.

Reid concentrated intently. "Eight two six…four seven zero…two two eight…got it." There was a magnetic hum and a grinding noise, and the small wooden door disappeared into the stone wall, revealing behind it an imposing metal door with a card slot in the middle of it. Reid pulled out from his jacket pocket an ID that Prentiss had never seen before, and swiped it through, holding the door open for her as well.

"And we're in," he whispered. "Now, the best thing to do would be to go wake up the head of security for this place, tell him everything that's going on, then take over the loudspeaker system down here and use it to brief everyone. Just follow me and stay quiet."

Prentiss was amazed at the technology and sheer scale of the place; a long hallway with dozens of doors, seeming to stretch on forever, lots of twists and turns, and even multiple underground floors. Overhead lights lit their path, and every door had an identical keycard slot in it. "What exactly are you planning to do, Reid?" she asked.

"Order an evacuation of the children, probably the guardians and everyone else as well. I think the team is still a day or two off from finding this place, so it doesn't have to be immediate, but within the next 24-48 hours. The plan is, that when the team and Interpol come running in here, it will be empty. Everyone will be gone. If there are no victims, we can't arrest the "unsubs."