Chapter 2

Hotch checked his watch for the second time in ten minutes and made a decision. "Could someone call Reid? He's never this late."

"That's what I was just thinking," Rossi said, pulling out his phone. He dialed and waited. "Hey, Reid. Where are you? We're all waiting and we're getting antsy. Call us." He hung up and sighed. "I hate voicemail."

JJ pulled out her phone and started texting. "He may not pick up for a phone call, but I think our boy wonder will notice a text."

Emily grinned. "What are you sending him?"

"Henry's sick and he wants to see his Uncle Spencer," JJ answered. "That'll work. He'll text me back in about ten seconds."

"I'd give it five," Derek said, taking a sip of coffee.

Ten seconds passed and nothing happened. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds. A full minute. At two minutes JJ started to look a bit worried. At five minutes, she looked at Hotch. "Okay, that's never failed to work before."

Penelope came into the round table room and looked around. "Still no Reid? Do you think he's sick?"

"He would have called if he wasn't coming in," Hotch answered.

"No, he would have come in anyway, insisted he was fine, and argued when we all put our feet down and insisted he go home," Rossi reminded him. "Something's wrong."

Hotch nodded. "Derek, would you and Emily go over to Reid's apartment and call us once you've checked?"

Derek and Emily both got up and nodded. "We'll call you once we're there," Derek promised.

One of the perks of working in such a tight-knit team was that they all had keys to each others' places. Derek and Emily keyed themselves in and looked around.

"Reid?" Derek called. "You here?"

"I'll check the bedroom," Emily said, heading that way.

Derek spotted something strange. "Uhh...okay, that's weird." There on the coffee table were Reid's personal and work phone, and on the floor next to the table, looking as if it were a lost puppy, was Reid's messenger bag.

"What's weird?" Emily called from Reid's room. "He's not back here, and he's not in the bathroom."

"His messenger bag's here," Derek said as Emily joined him.

"Then where's Reid?" she wanted to know. "He never leaves that thing behind."

"I don't know," Derek said, checking the phones. Neither Rossi's voicemail nor JJ's text had been checked. "I think something's wrong."

Emily nodded. "I'll call Hotch."

Two hours of frantic working and they managed to obtain the security footage for Reid's apartment building. It showed Reid going up to his apartment and then shortly afterward four men in suits followed him. Less than ten minutes later the footage showed the same four men with Reid headed out of the building. The camera out front showed them all getting into a car and driving away.

Hotch was in his office watching the footage intently. "He made a point of looking at every camera there was."

"Yeah," Rossi said thoughtfully. "Who the hell are those guys?"

"I don't know, but it's now our business to find out," Hotch answered. "This case will take precedence."

Hotch and Rossi joined the rest of the team in the round table room. "We're going to have to go on the assumption that Reid's been abducted," Hotch stated. "Local law enforcement has already closed off Reid's apartment as a crime scene. Garcia, what's the status on traffic camera footage?"

"I'm bringing it up now," she said, typing frantically at her laptop. A window popped up and she made a frightened sound deep in her throat. "Oh, dear. Oh, my. It's Reid. One second and you'll all be able to see."

The footage came up on the projector screen. It showed the car that their unsubs were using stopping at a red light, and then a back door opened and they could see Reid struggling to get out. He was pulled back in, the door closed, and the car moved on.

"I don't believe this; nobody even looked up," Penelope complained.

"Probably bystander effect," Derek said thoughtfully. "Then again, it happened pretty fast."

Penelope replayed the clip and all of them got a good look at Reid. The expression on his face told them all they needed to know: He was afraid.

"Definitely didn't go with those guys willingly," Rossi said, studying the image.

JJ looked at her phone. "Okay, just got confirmation from the facility where Reid's mother is; they've got her under guard and they will be vigilant. They stated that no one's tried to contact or approach Diana Reid since Reid's last visit with her."

"Safe to say they probably won't concern themselves with her, then," Emily sighed. "It's most likely their primary target was Reid."

They continued watching clips of the footage as the SUV made its way through the city and beyond the reach the traffic cameras. Penelope was already bringing up maps to find out their probable destination. A moment later her computer beeped and she looked slightly panicked. "Uh...guys? I'm getting hits from a ton of cameras from different places. Looks like they drove most of the way and their journey ended on a single-lane road and the only thing down that last road they were on is a private air strip. Satellite images of the area from early this morning show a small jet...oh, this is big. This is scary and big. How are we going to find Reid?" She stopped and seemed to gather herself. "I'm checking on just who owns that airstrip and how to contact them. I'm amazed Homeland Security hasn't shut it down and made it a dog park!"

"If it's an airstrip on private land, any owner is only required to register it," Rossi said. "There's not going to be much monitoring."

"Oh, wonderful," Penelope groaned. "Okay, I'm going to need all the resources at my disposal, so I'm going down to my office. I'll be typing away and making things happen. I'll buzz you when I've got something." So saying, she gathered up her things and scurried out.

"Emily, Derek, and Dave, you try running those faces through facial recognition; see if anything comes up," Hotch ordered. "I know Penelope trained all of you in how to do it. JJ, you keep in contact with local law enforcement. Contact me if you find anything. I'm going to contact our higher-ups and let them know the situation. We'll meet back up in two hours to go through victimology."

Everyone nodded and headed to their posts, but JJ hung back a moment.

Hotch noticed. "JJ?"

"It's...I'm sorry, I just don't like thinking of Reid as a victim."

"We're not going to," Aaron told her. "He's a member of our team, and we just haven't found him yet. It's just a matter of time if we go through our process. Whoever took him went to great lengths to take Reid alive, so it stands to reason that he's still alive and that he's all right. We'll find him."

JJ nodded. "Okay. Maybe one of the local officers noticed something that will help."

Hotch watched her go and gathered his files. Whoever had kidnapped Reid had probably thought the BAU wasn't too much of a threat to them. They were about to find out just how wrong they were.

Taking him to the Director was more complicated than they'd made it sound. He was escorted across the admin wing and into the wellness wing of the wellness center.

"The Director's meeting us here?"

"Nope, lunch is formal," Wallace told him. "You need to get ready."

"Ready?" Reid echoed as they entered a place that looked so much like a spa that it was no-nevermind.

A young woman stepped forward. "Good morning. How may I help you today?"

"You can call the police; I'm a kidnap victim and these are my abductors."

She looked from Reid to the Evil Four. "New arrival?"

"Arrived this morning. He needs to get ready for lunch with the Director."

She smiled and nodded. "I'll get things prepared."

Reid watched her go with narrowed eyes. "Is everyone evil here?"

"That depends on your point of view," Keller told him. "Come on."

They escorted him past the desk and into a well-appointed locker room. The attendant was setting out towels and body wash and shampoo and hung a cotton robe and pajama pants on a hook just inside a frosted glass door. "Here you are. Just let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Barbara."

Barbara smiled and left.

All four of them looked at Reid, who stared back at them. "What?" Reid snapped.

"Time to take a shower."

He looked them up and down. "Um...with you watching? No."

One of them snickered. "Oh, kid, how did we amuse ourselves before you came?" Bell asked. "There's a changing room behind that door. Take the towels and stuff in with you and wash up."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You're not going to lunch with the Director after not having a shower since yesterday morning," Wallace said firmly. "Definitely not without a shave and not wearing those clothes. They look worse than if you slept in them, which we know you did. Do we have to call a couple of attendants to help you?"

Reid glared at them. "What are they going to do, force me into the shower and scrub me?"

"They have before. Just so you know, kid, all of the attendants here are female."

Spencer narrowed his eyes, snatched up the towels and toiletries, and stormed into the shower, slamming the door closed behind him and making sure it was fastened. He noticed that there wasn't a lock. Muttering under his breath, he undressed, hung up his clothes, and got in the shower. He scrubbed and washed his hair, rinsed off, and started drying off. He left the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips and reached for his clothes...wait a minute. "Hey! Where are my clothes?!"

"They're being washed," Jackson told him from the other side of the door. "Put on the robe and pajama pants. We've got slippers out here for you."

Reid pulled on the clothes and exited the changing room, his blood simmering. He pushed his feet into the slippers they handed him and looked them up and down. "I thought I was going to lunch with the Director-am I going dressed like this?"

"You need a little work done first," Jackson said, smiling. "Definitely a shave. Maybe a haircut."

His blood was boiling now. "You are not cutting my hair."

"Well, we'll see what the stylist says. Come on."

Reid's blood continued boiling for the next hour. He was taken to the salon, put into a chair, and a stylist and his assistants descended on him like Valkyries. It was like being in a spa from Hades and he was given no say in what they were doing to him.

"I'm really not comfortable with this," Spencer complained as the Evil Four maneuvered him into a salon chair and a smock was wrapped around him.

"It's just a little touch-up, Dr. Reid," Wallace told him. "It'll go faster if you let them do their work."

It started with a shave. He was leaned back in the chair and a hot towel was applied to his face. Cleanser followed that, and another hot towel. After that was conditioner and yet another hot towel. The stylist applied heated shaving cream and began the shave. Once the shaving cream was gone his face was covered with another hot towel, followed by more shaving cream and another pass with the razor. The last bits of the shaving cream were wiped away and a cold towel was laid over his face. A bit of aftershave and he was finished.

Spencer was on the verge of getting out of the chair but the stylist held him in place with a hand on his shoulder, looking him over. "You need a trim."

"I don't need a haircut," Reid told him. "I'm going now."

"I didn't say a haircut; I said a trim," the stylist persisted. "It'll take just a minute since your hair's still damp from your shower." He looked at his two assistants. "Girls, could you start on his hands?"

Spencer turned his head to look the stylist in the eye. "What about my hands?"

The stylist turned Reid's head back and picked up a comb. "Stay still, please. The more you hold still, the faster we're done."

Reid gave up. They stylist combed and snipped at his hair while the two assistants soaked his hands in bowls of water and began to trim and shape his nails. The stylist was combing his hair and applying a little spray wax just as his assistants were drying Reid's hands and massaging them. "I don't need a massage," he complained. He just wanted it to end.

"Almost done," one of the assistants soothed. "You just need buffing."

"No, I don't," Reid said, trying to get out of the chair. "Really, I'm done."

A hand came down on his shoulder. It was Bell. "Just sit there and stop causing problems, Dr. Reid. Wouldn't you get a little ticked if someone were refusing to let you do your job?"

He'd never had his nails buffed before, but they buffed them. The smock was pulled off him and he was brushed down to get rid of any stray hair and at long last, he was allowed out of the chair. He jumped out of it as if it were on fire and resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair. If he did, they might descend on him with combs.

"There, all better," Bell said with a smirk. "Come on, your clothes should be ready."

Spencer followed them without a word. He was led back to the locker room and there on a chair was a full set of clothes: khaki linen pants, white cotton shirt, tan leather shoes, socks, and underwear. "Where are my clothes?"

"Still being washed," Wallace said, as if pointing out the obvious. "Besides, you'd roast in that sweater and those pants you were wearing. Lunch is outside."

Reid grabbed the clothes and disappeared into a empty changing room to dress. The labels on the clothes were expensive-ruinously so. Who on earth had that kind of money? Telling himself not to think about it and what such a thing might mean, Spencer pulled on the clothes and shoes (Italian leather, no less! Rossi would have been pleased) and left the changing room.

"If you say there's something else we have to do before we meet the Director, I'm going to have a meltdown," he snapped as he rejoined his escorts. "I've been as patient as possible under the circumstances, and I want to meet the person responsible for this. Now."

"We're going there," Keller promised him. "Come on. You look good, by the way."

"I don't care," Reid sighed. "Let's go."

They took him back outside and to the car. Five minutes' drive took them to a large main building, a gorgeous place of white stucco with a red tile roof. They led him up the stairs and through an airy foyer, and out a side door into a garden. Next to a fountain a table was set up, and at the table was a man with silver hair, reading a newspaper. He looked up as they approached and smiled. "Ah, Dr. Reid! Welcome, welcome! So happy to meet you at last!" He got up and held his arms out as if offering a hug.

Reid stood there, glaring at him. "Are you the Director?"

"I am," he said, waving Reid to the chair across from him. "I hope you're hungry. Did you have a pleasant trip?"

Reid dropped into the chair. "You can drop the 'affable host' act," Reid snarled. "You had me kidnapped. I was abducted from my apartment and drugged, forced onto a plane, and I've been moved around and had things happen to me that I didn't want. I've been taken from my home and brought to this place and I do not intend to stay here."

The Director chuckled. "And how will you leave?"

"I'll find a way."

"No one's managed yet, so if you manage it, I'll find you and congratulate you," the Director said, still with his affable air. "Ah, here's lunch. I hope you brought your appetite with you."

"I wasn't given the chance to pack it."

The Director chuckled again as a white-coated servitor served the meal. It was a formal place setting, Reid noticed. There was even champagne chilling in an ice bucket. The first course was a spinach and kale salad with raspberry vinaigrette and crumbled bleu cheese, as nice as any that could be had in any restaurant back home. Reid managed a few bites before he felt any more would choke him, so he sipped at his water. "Why did you order me brought here?"

"You've an IQ of 187, you've read countless books, and you hold three Phds and other degrees; surely you know you're quite talented," the Director said as the servitor took their salad plates away. Reid noticed that WBKJ had stayed and were hovering.

"Lots of people are smart and educated," Reid shot back. "What's so special about me?"

The Director leaned back in his chair smiled. "You've been through impossible situations and knotty problems, and you've always managed to make the impossible possible and unknot any problem. You're exactly the type of person I want for the Trust."

Reid was distracted as the servitor placed a plate in front of him. Pork loin with plum sauce, parsley potatoes, and asparagus. "I don't want to be in the Trust. I want to be back home working with the BAU."

"Out of the question," the Director said, picking up his knife and fork.

"Why?" Reid almost wailed.

"Because the BAU is far too dangerous. You've almost lost your life multiple times and it is clear that they can't protect you. You belong here, you are here now, so it's best if you accept it," the Director told him firmly. "In time, you'll come to see that I am right." He looked over at Reid. "A few bites of salad does not make a meal, Dr. Reid. I'm sure you're hungry."

"It's hard to have an appetite when you've been kidnapped," Reid muttered.

The Director ignored that. "Now, as to the rules."

"I won't obey them."

The Director looked him in the eye. "Don't confuse stubbornness with strength, Dr. Reid. It will avail you nothing. I would like you to be aware that any transgressions on your part will result in a punishment for someone else. The person receiving it will be chosen at random. Everyone is aware of this rule, so everyone trusts everyone else to obey the rules so no one suffers needlessly."

Reid surged to his feet. "That's sadistic! You can't punish people for things they haven't done just to hold everyone hostage to everyone else's good behavior!"

The Director gave him a smile as Jackson stepped forward and pushed down on Reid's shoulder to make him sit down. "It works, Dr. Reid. I've rarely had a problem." He took a bite of pork loin, chewed, and swallowed. "Your lunch will get cold if you don't eat it, and you will not leave this table until you do."

"I could stab you with a fork instead," Reid said thoughtfully.

"You shouldn't make such threats before you know what punishments are given in cases of transgressions," the Director said with a tight smile. "I could always order someone brought here so you can see."

Reid leaned back in his chair, his mind working furiously. There was too much he didn't know about this place and how it worked. "All right. I'll listen."

"Your first attempt to run from here will result in a week's confinement. So will any violent lashing-out. A second attempt to run will result in a week's confinement and a loss of credit for two weeks. A third attempt will result in a week's confinement, a loss of a month's credit, and a physical punishment, usually something...painful. In all the years of having the Trust, I've never had to order one. Make sure you're not the cause of one, all right?"

Reid's mouth and throat went dry and he reached for his water. He took several swallows and placed the glass back on the table. "Wouldn't it be more effective to punish the transgressor?"

The Director chuckled and shook his head. "Not at all. I've found this system to be most effective. All of our Trust members are provided with credit every week. You can use your credit to purchase things in the campus exchange or an extra activity of your choice. The amount is contingent upon your good behavior."

"What constitutes good behavior?" Outwardly, he appeared calm, but inside...well, panicked might have been a good word to describe how he was feeling.

"Finishing your meals, for one," the Director said, giving him a pointed look. "Attendance at meals is mandatory, and you do have to eat. Starving yourself will count as a transgression. Our nutritionists and cooks make sure that your meals are appealing and nourishing, so wasting their effort is not allowed. If we find that you are not eating, you will be confined the wellness center and your physician's care until you manage to eat on your own. We have had some members fed with feeding tubes and I can assure you that it is not a pleasant process."

Reid felt his throat go dry again, so he took another drink. He felt as if he were shaking, but when he looked, his hands were steady.

"Activities are required of you; if you are found sequestering yourself in your room, then it will count as a transgression. You are required to participate in at least one activity each morning and one each afternoon or evening. You may do more, of course, if you wish, but you won't be able to do anything until you're fed."

Spencer took the hint and picked up his knife and fork. His hands were still steady. "What activities?" He cut a morsel of the pork loin and ate it, and then he had to pause in surprise as the taste hit him. It was delicious and he took another bite with more enthusiasm.

The Director smiled. "There are a lot to choose from. For the first three months, all of the activities you'll have will be fun ones. There are classes for yoga, aerobics, pilates, dance, and other forms of exercise. You can enjoy the amenities at the wellness center, like a massage or hydrotherapy or a dose of pampering. There will be things like ball games and sports tournaments, and of course there's biking, swimming, hiking, and horseback riding. There are classes for different arts and crafts and music and so on. You'll have to visit the recreation center to get a full list of activities. If your physician suggests an activity, then you'll need to add that to your schedule as well. At the beginning of each week you're required to choose your activities and submit them to the recreation hall so we know where you are and what you're doing and when."

A feeling of unreality settled over Reid then. "This place sounds like a ritzy summer camp for adults. After my first three months, what then?"

"You'll be allowed to join work on different projects in the research center. There are a lot to choose from, but you'll be matched to the project you're best suited to, rather than you choosing the project. In the mornings and until three o'clock, you'll work on your assigned project, but after three you'll be able to work on any project of your own that you'd like."

Mechanically, Reid took another two bites of the pork and speared a potato with his fork. He didn't taste any of the pork or the potato he was chewing when the servitor handed a manila folder to the Director. He opened it and examined two sheets inside it.

"This is the report from your visit with Dr. White today," he told Reid. "He says that you're a bit underweight but otherwise in good health. He says that he suggested a few classes or even physical therapy to help you deal with tension, but that you seemed less than enthusiastic."

Reid snapped out of the fog he'd been in. "No, definitely not enthusiastic."

"Mens sana in corpore sano, Dr. Reid," the Director said with a smile. "I'm sure you'll see the benefit once you begin. I'll send a list of available options to your room and you'll be able to make your own choice in this matter." From the tone of his voice it was clear that it would be better for Reid if he did make the choice on his own. "So far, do you have any questions?"

Reid thought about it. He could learn a great deal if he asked questions, but he wanted to coax the Director into thinking he had him cowed a bit. "Um...a few…"

"Don't be so hesitant, dear boy," the Director encouraged him. "Ask as many as you like."

"When I'm not at an activity or working on a project, what am I allowed to do?"

"Your leisure time is yours to use as you see fit," the Director said. "You can spend time by yourself doing as you please using any of the facilities available or you can take part in any number of diversions."

"Diversions?"

"Yes, we offer plenty," the Director told him, watching Reid cut into his asparagus. "There are movies, plays, concerts, exhibitions, and other events you could attend. Once a month we host a dance and it's always well-attended. Later, after you've been here a few years, you can start to take part in day trips off-campus and after you've been here a decade you can go on some week-long excursions."

Reid almost choked. "A decade? How long are you planning on keeping me?"

"When you join the Trust, young man, it's for life."

A weird buzzing started in his ears and his vision grayed out. He wasn't sure if he was falling or floating, but vertigo hit, and then things went dark. Reid's last thought was, I wonder what everyone else is doing right now.