Chapter XXVIII
"Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters." ~ Francisco Goya
When Emily stepped into the restaurant with Gloria at her side everything seemed exactly like the last time. Brooder was sitting on a chair swirling a beer even though it was still early for alcohol. The men that worked as her guard dogs were also there. The only addition was an around 45-year-old, bald, huge man standing at the corner. No sign of Blackmore. Emily thought that given the stress Gloria had exaggerated, even though she didn't really question her friend's instincts.
"Oh, hello there…" Brooder greeted them.
"Hello yourself, Sam," Emily said back, "I was glad with the quickness of your call. Is it finally time to get into real business? I wasted enough time transporting your potatoes."
"You checked the package."
"Of course. I always do."
"Always careful, Lauren. Good for you. You passed my test. And you brought our little friend, too," she looked towards Gloria, "Did she give you any trouble?"
"Not all," Emily replied.
"When I say I'll co-operate, I do," Gloria spoke.
"I don't care. You are going to be someone else's problem from now on. I have another friend that is very eager to meet you."
"I thought I was going to use her to assist me," Emily said.
"She is gonna help in another way," Brooder replied.
"Really? Who is your friend?" Gloria asked indifferently.
"The only thing that you need to know is that the man is the reason you don't have a buttonhole on your skull."
"You are not the top of the chain? How come?" Gloria kept antagonizing her.
Gloria knew she wasn't risking anything. She just wanted to see Brooder's loyalty to the man that with no doubt was Blackmore. Emily could probably use any existing conflict between him and Brooder to her advantage.
"If I was you, bitch, I would be careful with my mouth! Working with him doesn't mean that I am his slave. And honestly I could kill to learn the reason of his interest in scum like you!"
"Apparently your judgement about me is wrong," Gloria kept on.
Brooder moved threateningly towards the redhead and instantly the huge guy at the back stepped to their direction. He was Blackmore's guy, Gloria assumed.
"Sam, cut it out," the man spoke harshly, "and you, just shut up," he turned to Gloria.
Gloria raised an eyebrow but didn't speak more. Blackmore had sent an actual bodyguard to protect her from Brooder's explosive temper and that man had a very clear British accent.
"Take her out of my face," Sam replied equally harshly, "and I hope you are aware of the snake she is."
"Don't worry. I know her," the man replied, "Follow me," he grabbed Gloria's arm.
"From where do you know her, John? From SAS?" Brooder mocked him.
Emily made a note of the irony, though. Gloria's face remained emotionless as it was expected, as the man pulled her strictly but not violently towards a door at the back.
"So you are not working alone," Emily commented once the two people had disappeared.
"I dare you not to start asking questions, Lauren," Sam replied dangerously.
"I won't. I am working with you and as long as I get what I want back, that's my business. Whoever you are working with, it's yours."
"And who I am working with is not 'his' business. Good. As I said I do like you. Doyle got his head busted because he was too much of himself. You would have done greater things, if you hadn't stumbled on him."
"It's never late."
"Sure. So let's get down to our stuff, Lauren."
Emily, though, had just learned something vital: Blackmore or whoever was behind that door didn't know her involvement. As weird as it sounded, she was safe.
"There is something up with these hits," Morgan said to other members of the team looking at the files of the conference room, "There is no escalation in anything. Only in the newspapers and what the journalists say about us and the police."
"Probably the group is warming up to a bigger target," Hotch said.
"What is it, though?" Reid asked.
Hotch's phone rang. The screen showed unknown number and the BAU Chief wished that it was the call he expected.
The John guy gave Gloria an unexpected push through the final door and she almost stumbled on her feet.
"I have told everyone not to manhandle our dear guest," a deep and hoarse voice said with irony.
Gloria looked up and all the small light that had slipped in her life with David's visit and Emily's news disappeared and the heaviness of the reality settled in all over again. The room was probably the office of manager of the restaurant and the man sitting behind a thick but cheap desk was no other than Charles Blackmore.
When normal people think of the monsters that once tore their life apart, they don't really picture a short and round grey haired old man that they can pass by on the sidewalk or offer him a seat on the bus and not have second thought about him. That was exactly how Charles Blackmore looked like, he didn't even look like a politician – apparently he wore suits only for the media – he was the old guy next door, in a pair of jeans and a thin sweater that used to be expensive, though, when he bought them many years ago. However, Gloria knew very well already that the worst monsters always look like the most ordinary people and when her eyes met his almost black ones, she could tell that those eyes only spat power and death. Her stare back to him was cold, thanks to that remote switch she always had inside her.
"Gloria Paterson, right in front of me. What a lucky man I am," he caried on in the same tone.
"I heard you were looking for me," Gloria replied coldly folding her arms.
"I was looking for you for a rather long time. And you do know who I am, don't you?"
"I do, Charles. I am here on my own free will."
"Well, that's the strange part of our meeting. I hadn't planned it like this exactly."
"What can I say? I am unpredictable."
"Oh, I do know what you are," Blackmore stood up and circled the desk towards her, his tone having become unsettling, "The undercover agent phenomenon that can't really catch the eye. You look small, pale, fragile... beautiful..." his pointer finger went to reach her face, Gloria didn't pull back, but it never touched her, "Who can guess what's lying underneath? Why are you here, Gloria?" he motioned with his head to the John-guy who stepped closer to them, almost towering above her.
There had been a day when Gloria could fight even with a man like John. She couldn't anymore. And he wasn't alone. They were probably armed and she was there with no wire, no back up, no gun. If they decided to kill her, it couldn't be easier. They knew that and that was why they were intimidating her. Those snake eyes of Blackmore's were piercing through hers and she felt like she was looking devil in the eye. Gloria had felt helpless in her life, but never in front of a monster.
"Shouldn't I be asking why you are looking for me?" she raised an eyebrow, unfazed.
"Ladies answer first, please."
"Let's just say I was intrigued when your little friend Hathaway was trying to lure me out. I am more used to get thrown around and people not paying attention to me and you made a whole plan to get me here? I thought it was my chance."
"Chance for what?" the old man asked.
"Chance to get to someone that apparently appreciates my abilities. For what other reason would you look for me? If you just wanted to kill me, you had every opportunity to do so. And why really? I don't think I ever bothered you."
"That's true. Even if you were bedding with someone that was a great hassle to me. It's the reason he is dead," Blackmore said harshly, watching her, looking for her reaction.
He believed she didn't know. He was expecting the woman that once sobbed in Ireland to surface. But that woman didn't appear as frequently as men like Blackmore used to think.
"Well then. He had it coming," she replied calmly, never taking her eyes away from his, "There are some people in this world you don't put up with."
"Should I take that as a compliment?" Blackmore said, the irony again in his voice.
"Take it as whatever you want. But that's the truth. Whelan was stupid. I am not."
"Were you thinking like that when you were screwing his brains out?"
"I did what a subordinate does to climb the ladder."
"Really?" he asked in disbelief.
"I was young. What can I say? I fell a bit into my own plan. Let's cut the bullshit, now."
"It's not bullshit," Blackmore cut her off without raising his voice, but caught her arms and pinned her on the wall. He had more strenghth than a man at his age would have. Probably the old guy in worn-off clothes was the facade he kept for his underground people. He was expecting some defensive move but Gloria didn't even flinch, "I may just have a love torn lady in front of me, following up on a ghost's crusade."
Gloria laughed coldly.
"And I remembered it now? And came here with nothing to do what? Beat you with the power of love?"
Blackmore balanced her words and let her arms go. Gloria could tell for sure that her appearance in front of him had taken him aback. She knew that her attempt was so mindlessly reckless that nobody could really wrap their heads around it. Monsters could never understand that depth of risk, that meaning of sacrifice. 'Sacrifice?' No. She had promised David that she would be careful, she had to try not to end up in that sacrifice...
"You are the one who remembered me late," she carried on, what was going on in her head not visible on her face, "Back then when Brooder tried to isolate Maria Lloyd, told me to kill someone? When that whole political story started over an affair that normally would have been just a minor thing? It was you trying to take me to your side, wasn't it? Well, you should have gotten out of the shades. We would have made a great team, Charles."
"Then why didn't you come to me earlier?"
"I didn't know what you were exactly doing till now. I'm bored of law enforcement and their rules and their promises. Not many people walk around with my abilities and what did I get in return? Nothing. I was thrown around like a piece of shit all these years. Do you know what I have survived? What I have seen? What did I get in return? Nothing. I know now that you want to burn this system to the ground. I couldn't agree more."
Gloria saw the John-guy smiling to the side in agreement. The man was all muscle but he hadn't learned to mask his reactions. He was probably ex-military, Brooder's joke about SAS wasn't far from the truth. She was already sure the Blackmore was going to stick him to her. She had to get under his skin, too.
"I could believe you," Blackmore took a step back, "Coming to find me all by yourself would otherwise be simply suicidal. That? That would have been stupid," his face grimaced again to a smile, obviously mocking her.
"You were looking for me. Let me prove myself to you."
However, Gloria felt that maybe it didn't really matter whether Blackmore bought what she was saying to him or not. In his plans, she was a dead woman walking.
Hotch knocked on the door of the cabin in the countryside outside Washington. There were many cabins like that in that area but this one was pretty isolated. During the winter nobody would be in those streets. With the weather getting better, though, Hotch had seen a few cars, while driving up here. The occupant of the cabin would soon be moving somewhere else, he assumed.
The door opened and Aaron realised that, even if he used to say that Emily looked a lot like her mother, she was actually her father's copy. Edward Prentiss shared the same facial characteristics with his daughter and he had the same stoic expression in his dark brown eyes, too. He was thin but taller than her. His black hair was thick and had silver rays but it hadn't turned fully grey.
"You must be Agent Hotchner," he spoke pressing his square glasses a bit back on his nose.
"I am, Mr Prentiss."
"Come in. Sorry for bringing you out here but I avoid the city centre and the government buildings, the official ones at least. Are you sure nobody followed you?"
"I can guarantee that. The streets here make it easy to check," Hotch reassured him looking around the small space.
The inside of the cabin was dull, with old furniture and Hotch was sure it came with the cabin. One wall was fully occupied by an overloaded bookcase with books on politics and history. Apparently that mysterious man read a lot to pass his time up there. There was, also, a desk with files and maps.
"Please, sit down," Edward said motioning to the two old armchairs by the bookcase, "You must be already thinking that I am paranoid."
"You are concerned about your safety. I can assure you, your reasons are real," Hotch replied politely.
"I know. Sometimes we do much for the law enforcement but we don't imagine that's how we'll end up. Anyway. Things could have been worse. I shouldn't complain and you have a job to do. Liz told me you wanted to see me regarding a case, probably connected to the attempt against me in New York," the older man got down to business in that way that agents do.
Of course, Hotch hadn't told Elizabeth Prentiss everything he was disclosed, even though he got the idea that the Ambassador had her suspicions.
"Yes, we have similar patterns of a group of people performing terrorist acts here."
"The shootings at the police stations? Aren't they very different from New York?"
"Yes, as it concerns the MO but they seem to involve the same person. Charles Blackmore."
Edward Prentiss raised his eyebrows and leaned back into his armchair.
"Charles Blackmore... I haven't had a discussion about this man for a long time."
"Who have you spoken with about this man?"
"Interpol Agent Richard Whelan."
"Did you know him personally?"
"Yes. He had found me. The agent was pursuing a crusade against Blackmore. I warned him to stay out till he had solid facts, but that's what he was trying to find and, what to say, he was a driven man."
"And he was murdered by Blackmore."
"Murdered? Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. He figured out there was a Blackmore's mole in the agency. He got killed before he told anyone."
The lean man let a breath.
"Have you found the mole?" he asked and Hotch nodded, "Is by any chance Victor Malone?"
"Yes," Hotch said, frowning.
"It was me that gave Richard Whelan a piece of information regarding Malone," Mr Prentiss said obviously shocked by the news.
"Which was what?"
"We had spoken many years ago. Then all of a sudden I got a call from him, asking me about Clear Skies and who had who had authorised the break of their contract on Paradise Demons. I told him it was Malone."
"And you did know that."
"I am CIA, Agent, I can learn almost everything. I thought that the call was strange but I trusted the agent. And apparently I am the one that got him killed. The agent he was involved with, is she OK?" he asked suddenly taking Hotch aback.
"Yes, she is alive. Did you know about her, too?"
"I know about the internal affairs problem, Agent Hotchner, I always kept tabs on him," he replied as a matter of fact.
"But not on her."
"No. I tried to learn more but without people to trust I couldn't. I only knew her face and that's because I attended Whelan's funeral and her name, no more. My educated guess is that she is an "unconventional" agent."
If CIA couldn't dig up information about Gloria how had they assumed that all these guys have learned about her through only a mole? Hotch started re-evaluating the team's assumptions in his head. The files on her that Garcia was able to recover had almost no names. For someone to figure out the undercover agent had to follow a path of scrambled data. Even Easter had once mentioned that he couldn't really understand how Malone had really passed on all that to Blackmore. Yes, Malone had facilitated her cover as a dirty FBI agent but even him, he was never disclosed name, face or exact role. There was something they hadn't thought thoroughly.
"I heard about the incident in the farm, that Agent Whelan got killed but obviously I couldn't make any connection with our last conversation," the older man conitinued, obviously not looking for an answer to his previous comment.
"You said last conversation. When was that?"
"A day before Richard Whelan died."
"Then he didn't have time to make anyone suspicious that he knew about the mole. Someone, though, could know that you told him. Is there the possibility that someone was following you?"
"I was in Africa and we spoke over a high-secure line. That is impossible. And it's me telling you. You already know how much cautious I am."
"Then you can let yourself free, Mr Prentiss. Agent Whelan got killed because of his suspicions, not because you told him the actual name. Actually what happened couldn't be planned in just a few hours," Hotch concluded, "The problem is for which reason you were the target."
"If I was on Blackmore's list, it is for the same reason Agent Whelan contacted me. Agent, I used my businesses as a cover all these years, doing business in places of interest for our country. It happened to be the same where Blackmore used to run all these non-profit organisations of his. Blackmore has passed from Ex-Soviet countries, Russia, Africa and Middle East. In short he has passed from every country where illegal, military guns come and pass from. We thought that at least could be the river and the source for the hardware of many illegal groups but everything was so neat and legitimate. We couldn't prove it and in those countries the corruption runs deep. But apparently I fell under his radar even if he doesn't know my actual role. He just didn't like my amical relations with the legitimate and USA-friendly governments that tried to stop him and the others like him. When there was the incident in New York, I was to facilitate a meeting between representatives of one of them and American representatives in a way to strengthen our country's relations and interests. I was targeted because someone wanted to stop it and I was in vulnerable position since I had to have that ordinary operation."
"Was FBI Kate Joyner involved into that?"
"Yes, she still had British contacts and there were also going to be British representatives in that meeting. My agency couldn't figure the person that targeted me. Unfortunately in these countries there are many people against their countries building good relations with the US," the older man scanned Hotch through his glasses, balancing if he was to continue, "There is another meeting planned for tomorrow."
Hotch raised his eyebrows. They were talking about a bigger hit just hours ago.
"If something of that importance will happen in Washington, given the situation, someone from your agency or a similar one should have appeared," Hotch commented.
"I'm sure they keep an eye on it. But they don't think it is related to New York or that whoever is behind the attacks knows about the meeting. They won't believe you and they won't tell you the place of the meeting, which I don't know myself, by the way. So you are sure it's Blackmore. Do you have solid proof?"
"No. Only indications for the moment," Hotch replied sincerely, even Hathaway's words couldn't stand in reality. Malone was giving them the silent treatment and only tracing his money would stand but still it couldn't show the depth of Blackmore's acts.
"That was always the problem, Agent Hotchner. Blackmore is a story told by a ghost. If you don't put him physically in the scenes, if someone trustworthy doesn't testify that he is behind everything, nobody will ever believe you. I can assure that he is able to know about that meeting. If he escalates to hit it, the consequences could be awful in every level. I really hope you do nail him this time. He is one of those devils that slip through the cracks. That's why I admired Agent Whelan for his braveness to put up with a man of that calibre."
Mr Prentiss let another breath.
"I wanted to talk to someone about what I told him the last time we spoke. I attended his funeral to approach the woman he was with, but at the end I didn't want to bother her with some for me irrelevant information. The poor girl looked sick and devastated... If she knew, she would come to me on her own time. She never did. I assumed he hadn't informed her to keep her safe from something. I could have talked to her nevertheless. But... She was Emmie's age, even younger... I don't know... My supressed paternal instincts took over, I guess. Is that girl really alright?"
"Any premature moves she would have done could have put her in danger. She is actually Emily's friend," Hotch replied avoiding the question.
What was there to tell? That she was the one trying to be the 'someone to testify' by betting her life?
"That's something you don't learn from CIA intelligence," Prentiss smiled a bit and after his eyes shone in that playful way that Emily's used to shine before she said a joke, "I see, you are on first name basis with my daughter."
"It is not so unusual..." Hotch replied, unsure of where that last comment was going and his confusion did show.
Prentiss smiled even more fully.
"You are with my daughter, aren't you? Don't worry," he cut him off, "I'm not going to play the part of the weird girl's father. I'm just double-checking my wife's instincts."
Hotch smiled looking at the floor, he was always a bit uncomfortable with in-laws.
"I am always proud of my daughter. Now I am happy for her, too. I wish I could tell her that to her face," it was Prentiss' turn to look down.
"You will be," Hotch reassured him.
"Once this story ends, another one will appear. The fact is I chose the job over my family and I failed my child. Liz is great but when you put two strong-willed women under the same roof, well, you have the making of an explosion. Emmie needed me and I wasn't there. Hotch, I know you are a straight arrow that you are a noble and sensible man. The only thing that I want you to promise me is that when the time comes and it will come, when you have to choose between the damn job we have and the family you will make with my daughter, you will choose your family and you'll teach Emily the same thing, before she makes her old man's mistakes. Will you?"
"I will. I promise," Aaron looked the older man straight in the eyes.
Yes, he could promise that. He had already promised that to himself when he was left alone with Jack. He did it again before he informally asked Emily to marry him. He wouldn't make the same mistakes. Emily was a fighter and an insider to his job, she could understand. But, even like that, that time Aaron Hotchner would put his role as a father and husband in front of the one as the BAU Unit Chief. And yes. She had to learn to do the same.
"That's it," JJ's voice said through the phone.
"It's not, JJ. Brooder won't give more information till the last minute," Emily argued.
"After that, things can turn ugly. Once we get the guns, it's time for you to get out."
"I won't. There's more coming and my best guess is a bomb."
"That may not be Brooder's part."
"I'll stay till we have everything we need and Ria out of Blackmore's hands. Just tell Clyde what I told you," Emily finished the call and threw the phone on the passenger's seat.
Thankfully, Brooder hadn't stuck around her and she had the time to make that call. Obviously that woman had fallen for Lauren's tactics, trusted her completely and she had finally shared the piece of information they were looking for, the package containing the large number of MQ-300's. They was some hit coming, something big. And yes, there was more than that and then there was Gloria.
Emily's hand left the wheel and slipped to her tummy, for the first time touching the place where her baby was, hers and Aaron's, and now she knew.
"I'm sorry, kid. But we'll be fine. Trust me."
She was breaking her promise to her friend, she knew it. But she wouldn't stop now that she reached the source. For once Lauren Reynold's would finish the mission unbiased and then... Then she could be finally finished for ever.
"Emily just called," JJ rushed into Hotch's office finding most of the others there.
Hotch had just gotten in. He told them what he had learned, avoiding of course to mention the name of the person that had enlightened him. JJ filled them in, too.
"Why though the guns too? The bomb, if there is one, should be enough," Reid wondered.
"For the show," Rossi spoke, already alarmed with what had just reached his ears, "A bomb to a secret meeting like this can be explained like a simple gas explosion. How do you explain though an almost military attack to a building?"
"The foreigners are not stupid. Something like this can have global consequences," Clyde said.
"I am seriously thinking that the meeting is just the cherry on top of the cake. He knows that our 'mourning, diplomatic politicians' will try to cover the fiasco and they will at end. What they are really targeting is the law enforcement around. If the police and agencies are going to be a discreet, they are going to target civilians, too. The man feeds on the fear of the public and this is what he thinks is going to bring him the power. Imagine the chaos after an event like that the headlines: We are incapable to protect ourselves and the public and they want us to protect the foreigners, too. He will come forward with some cheap solution to the problem and the confused people are going to fall for it. Only he is the problem. The world has been turned into a hell by even less crazy and powerful people."
"The problem is that if we stop the guns, we will blow Emily's cover," JJ added.
"We don't need to stop them, just sabotage them," Clyde had an idea.
"What will happen, if they check them, once they get them?" JJ looked at Hotch worried, did Easter just had an idea that could put Emily in grave danger?
"She has to try to buy some time, till we have the container traced without waiting for Brooder's final call and the hit pointed out. The meeting is tomorrow. They are rushed already," Hotch balanced the idea in his head, even if it was dangerous indeed, "If we haven't, she will pull out immediately."
"There's something more. Emily said that there was a new man today, sent from Blackmore. The guy had British accent, he said he knew Paterson and Brooder joked about SAS, the British Special Airforce," JJ added turning to Clyde.
"That's probably an irrelevant inside joke," Blake commented.
But the blond man raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"I thought it was only a story..." he murmured going through the files on his former team member still on Hotch's office, till then he had never been able to get his hands on at least half of them.
"What?" Rossi turned to him in disbelief, "Gloria has nothing to do with the military."
"Good profiling, Agent," Clyde replied ironically but not in a bad way, reading the pages on the thinner file and apparently the first one chronologically, "Of course, Ria wouldn't withstand any military academy. To put things straight the academy couldn't withstand her," he smiled to the side, "That's it," he carried on finally finding the line of codes he was looking for, "The story was true."
"What story, Easter?" Hotch asked.
"When they recruited Paterson, everybody questioned her loyalty to MI6 for starters. At that time the agency had involved SAS on a domestic mission and they were looking for a young, female undercover agent urgently. They had one but the girl was breaking and they needed a replacement. Then Paterson's supervisors considered it the best test for her. You can safely assume that everything worked more than fine. Ria has the credits for having her first mission when she was twenty-one, the youngest operator in MI6 and Interpol. The truth is her real first one was when she was nineteen and that made her the youngest undercover agent of every legitimate agency on the planet. But they never fully covered the operator's name, in case she went rogue."
"Doesn't this mean there are more moles?" JJ said.
"There are many people walking in the agencies with a price tag and the private sector fishing in the public one is not so uncommon. Whoever was, probably didn't even know who they were actually feeding the information to," Easter clarified.
"And how does this have to do with anything?" Blake asked.
"It does, if someone was looking for the best workers they could turn," Reid spoke, quickly scanning the couple of pages they had on the legitimate personnel of Black Cross, the people that do exist and Garcia had already started digging into the company even if they had held the formal investigation, "Look at these names, guys. Every person recruited by the company is high-skilled, former Special Forces, former decorated officers of the law in general."
"Imagine the type of people they wanted for their illegal actions," JJ commented.
"And the kid that the police man had tried to influence into extremists ideas. It could be recruitment too. And at the same time they had a a master in explosives in New York. The sets of skills are all over the place," Rossi added.
"They were building an army," Hotch concluded.
"What can Gloria offer now? Maybe back then Blackmore wanted her to work for him. But now? He should be delusional," JJ said.
"He is not. He has some anarchist ideology but more than half of what he does is personal. He doesn't want her for information. He wants to use her on his final hit and kill her in the process, as an ultimate personal victory against one of the top persons he couldn't have," Rossi sat down on a chair, taking a deep breath, 'and not only he couldn't have her, but she was also involved with his worst enemy due to one of those twists of fate,' he carried on in his head.
"Like a badly-behaved child that destroys the toys he can't have," Blake commented.
"Alright," Hotch spoke again, "Reid, find Morgan and try to trace which container has the guns in it, it should be ready to reach the customs as we speak. The rest of us, we have to profile Blackmore's way of attack and how he would react."
"In a place we don't know," JJ noticed.
"We will find it," their Unit Chief replied firmly.
"The devil whispered in my ear, 'You're not strong enough to withstand the storm'. Today I whispered in the devil's ear, 'I am the storm'." ~ Unknown
So amazed to update just a few days before the Season 12 Premiere (for which I'm also amazed by the way, even with the changes!)
I am also amazed to say this story has only three chapters and the Epilogue left and there are parts that are already half-written. So yeah! This story will finally end soon!
Spoiler: They are going to stop the hit but that's not going to be the exact end!
Please guys, don't forget to review. I know this story wasn't an easy ride and feedback is always constructive!