Please see disclaimers in Ch 1.


Patrick Callahan strode through the darkened corridors of the maze-like labyrinth, his feet ably navigating the black space. There was nothing for him to fear now, even if those pesky 'friends' of some of their 'guests' did manage to get inside.

All of the doors to the 'color' rooms were sealed, thanks to the shorted electric. No one could get either in or out, not without an acetylene torch and an infinite amount of time and patience—none of which he planned to make available.

The dungeon rooms were kept dark purposely, but the bolts that held the doors fast would take hours to unlock without a key—the one he held in his hand.

In any case, there was really nothing that could be done. Everyone had played their part, and the operation was now just beginning to wrap up. Even now, a few of the 'employees' that had been hired on at the beginning were finding that the 'severance package' really lived up to its name. It was business. Nothing more.

The unfortunate people locked in the 'color rooms' might survive—if they were lucky.

As Patrick made his way to a particular door, he nimbly tapped in an override button set near the locking mechanism. The door creaked open, and he walked in, a sinister object shining against the light reflecting from the hall onto the pale peach wall.

"What's going on?" a voice asked.

"Nothing, my dear," Patrick said calmly. "If you both would just follow me, I think we can see you on your way…


Arthur Cordova stood primly within the meeting room at the embassy, his neat black coat and white shirt giving him the look of an impeccable waiter or perhaps a private bodyguard. From his position at the back of the room, he could take in everything that was happening within. There were seven ambassadors in total, each making what small talk they could, each waiting somewhat patiently for their hosts to arrive. A well-dressed woman finally cleared her throat, and the room fell into a hushed silence.

"It seems our hosts are running a bit late," the woman said, a courteous smile still gracing her long face. I do not think it amiss if we begin now, and allow them to settle things, yes?"

There were a few nods, a couple of guttural voices giving a muted agreement.

"Very well. I must thank you all for coming. I know that Ambassador Li is very grateful that we could meet to discuss such a topic as this…"

The invited guests took their seats, and the summit commenced. From his perch, Arthur looked skyward at the fantastic chandelier that hung loosely from the ceiling, looking like a million small raindrops casting brilliant beams of both white and color-refracted light.

Just above the hanging base of the chandelier, two small barrels peeked outward, hidden from view by the ornate wooden railing of the balcony and the sight of the glittering light fixture. The deadly cylinders had grown longer than they had originally been, as silencers had been affixed to their ends.

On the right side of the balcony, a man in a suit tried to blend in with his surroundings. He stopped briefly to listen to the woman speaking, and it pained him to think that she must die in order to save her own child's life—and neither one knew it. If only there were some way out of this…

On the left side, a young woman in a waiter's uniform readied her scope. She was using it to both settle herself on her first target and gain one final look at her surroundings—once the hail of lead began to fall, she would need an escape plan, and fast. Her bright green eyes scanned the center of the room, and then along the walls at the small gathering of personal bodyguards and servants. One man in particular stood out among the crowd…

That's him, she thought. That's the bastard behind all this!

She managed to catch the eye of the man opposite her on the balcony. With one look, she managed to tell him everything. He tipped his head in understanding.

The young woman pointed at the man across from her, then lifted her finger skyward, then pointed it sideways, curling the tip towards her. Again, the man understood.

The man took a deep breath. He hoped that the woman was right. Slowly, he aimed the barrel and gently pressed the trigger. There was a faint cling, and then a shatter of glass.

Almost in unison, there was another small ping. A body fell to the floor, and all hell broke loose.


The sounds of fifty feet plodded ever onward, trying desperately to navigate the maze of corridors and open rooms that led nowhere. Flashlight beams danced over every available corner, and voices called out, looking for those who could not find their way.

"Sarah!"

"Garcia!"

"Hotch?!"

"Chase Davis!"

Beams of light danced over corners of a great room, containing a large balcony and two computer terminals.

"Garcia?!"

There were shots fired in an outer hallway. They were returned quickly, and the sound of weight falling assailed some ears.

"How the hell are we going to find Parker?" a voice asked, clearly frustrated.

"Lights," replied another. "We have to keep searching…"

"Hotch?!"

"Chase?!"

"This way," another voice said, blond hair catching in the light. "There's another row of doors…"

A fist pounded into one of them. "Where's the handle?" its owner asked.

"Mmm. See that?"

"What?"

"This," a voice said, the glare dancing inside deep blue orbs. "It's a manual override keypad—we need the electric turned back on or the code to override."

A phone flipped open. "Hey, turn the lights back on in here," a commanding voice barked. Within a minute the hallway was flooded in light.

"Well? Open it."

A red-haired tech crept up, eagerly prying the panel off with a screwdriver. "Just a second, Oliver," the tech replied, trying to make quick work of the door. After a nasty spark and a shock, the door whooshed open. Its walls were blazing white, and it was empty.

"Look here," a dark-hared woman said, pointing around them. There were more doors just like the one they'd cracked, all with keypads.

"I'm on it," the red-haired tech said.

"Look here," a man said suddenly, poking his head and weapon inside the opening in the wall. "This one's been left open…"

A man stormed in, looking as if he would dismantle the place brick by brick. The pale peach walls betrayed nothing, but he would recognize that color pink anywhere…

"Garcia's been in here," the man said resolutely.

"How can…" The dark-haired woman asked, then her eyes followed the man's finger to the strands of pink fiber that were scattered on the peach coverings. "Oh."

"She loves that set. I was there when she had to change into it at the hospital that time."

A nod. "You're right."

"Sarah's been here, too," the deep blue eyes said. "This is her handwriting." He held up a scrap of paper with some words on it.

"What's it say?"

"Nothing I can make out."

Another tech poked their head inside. "Agent Lawrence? There's some people out here…"

"People?"

"No, sir, not her. But some other people I really think you should speak to…"

The blonde woman looked at him. "I'll handle it." She confidently made her way towards the hall, allowing the tech to lead her.

"Know what I'm thinking?" the older man asked.

"This was way too easy?"

"This was way too easy," the man agreed. "Something's not right about this…"


In a dark, damp cell, two figures stayed close together. One of them, a tall man, had tried in vain to call out for help, but none ever came. The other, a young man with sand-colored hair, remained in his protective ball he'd been curled into since the water receded. He knew that unless someone found them, there would be no escaping this room.

Is anyone out there? he thought bleakly. Or have we been left to die?


"Guys! Over here!" someone shouted.

Five pairs of feet came running. They turned into a large room filled wall-to-wall with plasma screens.

"The entire complex, from every angle," the voice said.

"Stay here," Oliver ordered. Fitting himself with a mike, he said, "Okay, you're gonna talk me through this place, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Anyone comes near, tell me."

"Uh-huh."

"And if you see these people," Morgan added, handing pictures of Garcia, Sarah, Chase, Hotch and Kyle to the tech, "yell."

"Yes, sir."

"I'll stay and help with the directions," Rossi said, also fitting himself with a mike."

"Let's go," Morgan said. Oliver escorted him out the door. Emily followed behind them, her weapon at the ready.


In a large hangar, Patrick led his two prize pieces towards a small jet. It looked like any normal aircraft, and it had been meant for use in escape for himself and his cousin Arthur.

Ah, well, Patrick thought. At least one person will emerge from this unscathed…