Chapter Eight
FBI Technical Analyst, Penelope Garcia, is sitting in her office back at FBI Headquarters in Quantico Virginia when the phone rings. The often outrageously dressed blonde woman lifts the receiver to her ear. "Talk dirty to me," she says in a sultry voice.
"Hey, Baby Girl," comes the reply on the other end of the line, "I need a favour."
"If it's a new position from The Kama Sutra, you're in luck," says Garcia, "I happen to have them all memorized."
"I bet you do," laughs Morgan, "Unfortunately that's not what I'm calling for."
"Too bad," quips Penelope, "You don't know what you're missing."
"I'll take your word on that."
"So what do you need, Sweetie?"
"I need you to look up the meat packing plants in Miami's slaughterhouse district," Derek tells her, "Specifically any which have reported any unusual occurrences within the past couple of weeks."
"Unusual how?"
"Recent break ins. Missing inventory. Inexplicably chewed up beef carcasses. Anything."
"Okay," says Garcia, "This might take some time."
"Just do your best," Derek tells her, "See what you can come up with."
"I'll give you a call as soon as I have something," she replies, "Ciao, Stud," and she hangs up.
Morgan hangs up his cell phone and goes to join the rest of the team. They're all sitting in a Starbucks coffee shop, discussing the case and trying to figure out how to help their unusual ally. He sits down at the table and sips his coffee before updating the team. "Garcia's looking into any meat packing plants that have had any recent break ins, thefts, or vandalism," he says.
"Assuming we can deduce which one this . . . unsub . . . likes to visit," says Aaron Hotchner, "Then what?"
"We stop him," replies Reid, as though the answer were obvious.
"We don't need a 187 IQ to figure that out, Kid," says Derek, "But exactly how do we stop him?"
"I'm thinking maybe we should set up an ambush," suggests Rossi, "Take him out before he can kill anyone else."
"Easier said than done," says Reid, "Remember, they can see our heat signatures. Trying to hide from them in the usual way will just make you stick out like a sore thumb."
"Any ideas on how to get around that?" asks Emily.
"We need to figure out how to hide our body heat," says Hotch, "That's the only thing that will hide us from the unsub."
"Fire suits," says JJ.
"What?" replies Derek.
"Those foil flame retardant fire suits fire fighters sometimes wear," she explains, "The foil material reflects heat, right? Someone wearing one of those would appear to be completely invisible in the infrared spectrum."
"Not a bad idea," says Reid, "But how are we supposed to requisition one without raising any suspicions?"
"You're right," says JJ, "Sorry, that was a stupid idea."
"Not at all," says Hotch, "It's a very good idea. Just not very practical."
"If we can't requisition one, why not make our own?" suggests Emily.
"Make our own?" asks Rossi.
"We don't need it to protect us from fire, just hide our body heat from infrared," Prentiss explains, "So why not make our own suit?"
"Make it out of what?" asks JJ.
"Blankets!" says Morgan.
"What?"
"Foil emergency blankets," explains Morgan, "They work by reflecting your body heat back at you. They should block a person's body heat from infrared vision."
"And they're available in pretty much any camping supply store," adds Hotchner.
"So then what?" asks Reid, "We all dress up in homemade foil suits and ambush Rogue when he stops off for a snack?"
"Not all of us," says Rossi, "Just one. I'll hide in there with a rifle. Take him out before he even realizes I'm there."
"Sniper?" Hotchner says as much as asks.
"Well I was a marine," replies Rossi.
"It'll have to be a fairly heavy calibre rifle," says Reid, "At least a 40 Caliber. Anything less is likely to just tick it off."
"They do appear to be fairly thick skinned," agrees JJ.
"Wait for it to take its mask off to feed before you fire," says Reid, "And aim for the head. You'll definitely want to try and take him out with a single head shot."
"Why?" asks Rossi.
"According to Ranger," says Reid, "His people have a last resort weapon. If they feel they're about to be trapped, they'll blow themselves up."
"What?" says Hotchner.
"On one of their gauntlets is a weapon of last resort. An explosive device capable of blowing up fifty city blocks. If captured or grievously injured, they'll set it off, vaporizing themselves and everything around them."
"I guess I had better not miss then," says Rossi.
"Reid," says Hotchner, "Why are we just hearing about this last resort weapon now?"
"Sorry Hotch," apologizes the young genius, "I thought finding out these guys have an H-Bomb strapped to their wrists might have been a bit much for you guys to take. You know . . . considering . . ."
"Considering what?" asks Hotchner.
"Considering that our unsub is a seven foot tall Rastafarian from outer space," says Morgan with a half-hearted chuckle. It might actually be funny if not for the seriousness of their situation.
"Actually . . . Yeah," admits Reid, "That's exactly it."
"Look, Reid," says Hotchner in a gentle yet authorative voice, "I understand your reluctance to speak freely about our new . . . colleague. When I think about what he is and where he's from . . . I wonder whether or not I'm losing my mind. But now isn't the time for holding back pertinent information. All of Miami could be affected by what happens here these next few days."
"Okay, Hotch."
"No more secrets?"
"No," says Reid, "No more secrets."
"Good," replies Hotchner, "So any ideas on how we should stop our unsub?"
"It should be a head shot," says Reid, "With a high caliber rifle. A .40 Caliber hunting rifle should do the trick."
"Are you sure a head shot will work?" asks Morgan.
"Relatively sure," says Reid, although his voice wasn't quite as confident, "Physiologically speaking, their species isn't all that different from ours. They have a brain, heart, lungs, stomach, same as we do. However, their skins are far tougher than ours. Their muscle tissue and bones are denser . . . tougher. While a bullet through the heart might kill one of them the same as it would one of us, finding a bullet which is large enough and powerful enough to get through its skin, its pectoral muscles, and its rib cage with enough velocity to still pierce its heart is much tougher."
"Hence the head shot," says Rossi.
"Exactly," agrees Reid, "Without a thick layer of muscle between the skin and the bone, the bullet should be able to achieve maximum penetration."
"So how are we going to get the rifle?" asks Rossi, "We can't exactly requisition one from the S.W.A.T. team. At least not for this type of mission anyway."
"Here's how," says JJ, and she hands him the morning newspaper. The paper has been folded open to the classifieds section. Taking up half of one page is an ad for a Knife & Gun Exhibition, where people can purchase firearms of all shapes and sizes. Unlike at more conventional gun shops, at Knife & Gun Exhibitions the retailers don't have to enforce the required five day cool off period required by Florida State law. And even if they did, that law only applies to handguns. Shotguns and hunting rifles can be carried out of the store on the day that they're purchased.*
"Okay," says Hotchner, assuming his usual position as team leader, "Rossi and I will get the rifle and ammunition. JJ and Emily will get the foil emergency blankets, as well as anything else we can use to hide Rossi's body heat. Reid, you and Morgan talk to your friend and try and get some more information on our unsub. The better prepared we are, the better our chances are of stopping him. We'll meet back at Reid's hotel room in an hour."
The team gets up and leaves the coffee shop. Each pair gets into an SUV and drives off to their appointed task. Morgan and Reid meet Ranger by the hotel's rooftop swimming pool. Naturally it was closed down due to being a crime scene, which is what made it a perfect meeting place. They spend at least thirty minutes talking with the extra-terrestrial game warden before heading back inside. Ranger activates his camouflage device and follows them into the room. Within minutes the rest of the team arrives with their purchases. Hotchner and Rossi have a .416 Remington Magnum bolt action rifle with a high powered scope, a model very popular in Alaska due to its ability to fell a charging bear or moose with a single shot. They had also purchased a Smith & Wesson 500 revolver with laser sight and a pistol grip, pump action 12 gauge shotgun and plenty of ammo for all three weapons. JJ and Prentiss have the foil blankets, as well as scissors, needles, thread, foil tape, zip ties, and a few other items they thought might be useful.
To test their theory, they get Rossi to lie down on the floor and cover him with the foil blankets. To their relief, Ranger confirms that Rossi appears to be a pile of clothes left on the floor, or perhaps a piece of furniture. If one of his species were not looking for him specifically, he might very well walk right past. Now that their theory has been proven true, Emily and JJ go about sewing a makeshift heat reflective suit for Rossi. They trace a spare pair of pants and a sweater onto the blankets with a Sharpie, then cut out the pieces with the scissors and stitch them together with the needles and thread. Once the suit has been stitched together, they use the foil tape to cover the seams, in case Rossi's body heat manages to seep out somehow.**
The two women had also purchased Rossi a ski mask. They trace the mask onto the foil blanket, cut the pieces out, and then stitch them directly onto the mask. They also make foil mittens with a separate piece for his trigger finger, and foil boot covers. Because it was a rush job, the pants, boot covers, and mittens are all held in place with plastic zip ties. Rossi tries the suit on to see how it fits.
"So how do I look?" he asks in a half serious tone.
"I don't know," says Ranger, "All I see are eyes."
"You kinda look like a baked potato," says Morgan.
"Well I guess we know it works," says JJ.
"Anyway," adds Reid, "It's not meant to win any fashion competitions."
"Good," says Rossi as he pulls off the foil covered ski mask, "Because I feel ridiculous."
Just as JJ and Emily are helping Rossi out of the foil suit, Derek's cell phone rings. He quickly answers it, knowing it to be Garcia. "Behave yourself, Baby Girl, you're on speaker," he says in his usual playful manner.
"I found the information you asked for," replies the technical analyst, "Although I'm still not too sure as to why you need it."
Believe me, Garcia," says Rossi, "You don't want to know."
"What did you find out, Sweetness?" asks Morgan.
"Chimera Meats," replies Penelope. "They reported a break in a few days before the first murders. In addition to the damage done to the fire exit door, which is how the vandals got in, the night watchman and his guard dog have both gone missing. And ever since then they have been finding sides of beef all chewed up, like a pack of wild dogs had gotten into the storehouse."
"Got an address?" asks Hotchner.
"I've already emailed it to you," replies the computer tech, once again anticipating the team's needs before ever being asked.
"Thanks, Baby Girl. You're the best," says Morgan
"Sweetie, you have no idea how right you are," she replies before hanging up.
"Okay," says Hotchner, "We have our camouflage. We have our guns. We have our location. Now all we need is a time to set our trap."
"Our feeding schedules are fairly regular," says Ranger in Spencer's voice (which many on the team still find a little unnerving), "Rogue should be returning to the slaughterhouse tonight."
"Very well," says Rossi, "Tonight it is."
Author's Notes:
*According to my research on the internet, this is the actual law regarding the lawful purchase of firearms in the state of Florida.
**I have no idea if the silvery emergency blankets can actually block a person's body heat from being seen in the infrared spectrum. It worked on the Tremors television series, blocking peoples' body heat from being seen by Screechers and Ass-Blasters, so I figured it would work here too.