AUTHOR'S NOTE: °comes strutting in wearing a lab coat she borrowed from Faux Maven° Let's get squinty, people! I am now the living proof that a total non-squint (I am not exaggerating here. Chemistry and physics were only attractive because I had to memorize tons of stuff...and I happen to like memorizing and using my brain.) can efficiently process information and use it as writing material. So to all my fellow authors out there, the "I'm not a squint" excuse is no longer valid! lol ;)

Faux Maven, I am still in awe over how fast we wrapped this chapter up. It took less than two days to actually write and beta it several times. We so rock, ha! I can hardly wait to see if we'll do the same terrific job on chapter 13. Thanks for helping me out with all the research and for boosting my confidence when I needed a bit of a push. I couldn't have obtained my degree of "Mini-Squint" without you!

As for everyone who reviewed chapter 11 and who took the time to put me or my story on their list or who went to take a look at my other stories -- I believe a sincere thank you is in order. Your comments flatter me and keep me writing.

Also a thank you to Amasayda. If it hadn't been for you, I would have thought of this chapter!

- XII -

-- LA CANTARELLA --

In the 15th and 16th century during the Renaissance, the family of Borgia was notorious throughout Italy. Cesare Borgia and Lucrezia Borgia were the two most famous members of this family which was widely known, and often admired, for its murder-poison-plots. They were the illegitimate son and daughter of Rodrigo Lenzuoli Borgia who was better known as Pope Alexander VI from 1492 until his death in 1503. The Borgias are thought to be 'history's first criminal family' and a forerunner to the Italian Mafia.

The Borgias were a very famous family as can be judged from the number of books, movies and references to them in popular culture. There is a currently ongoing graphical novel series about the drama within the Borgia family called Cantarella which is being created by You Higuri. A famous quote by Harry Lime, a character of Orson Welles' novel The Third Man, goes: "Remember what the fella said: in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love - they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock." And finally, who can forget the reference to the Borgias in the Godfather III when Michael Corleone is in the Vatican attempting to receive gratification from the Pope on a business deal owned by the Catholic Church?

The title of this chapter, 'La Cantarella', means 'the poison of the Borgias'. It refers to a secret poison used by the Borgia family, the exact composition of which remains unknown till this day. Some say it's probably a mixture of subacetate of copper, arsenic and crude phosphorus. Others say it was prepared by first killing a hog with arsenic. Its abdomen was opened and was sprinkled with more poisonous powder. Then they left the animal to putrefy. The juices which trickled from the decaying corpse were collected and evaporated until only dry powder remained. La Cantarella refers to this particular powder.

I picked this title out of the short list of suggestions Faux Maven emailed me because the secretive poisonous ways of the Borgias reminded me of Madman's next move. He succeeds at poisoning the fourth target on his list and does so in a most devious way, none of the characters (nor you as a reader, for that matter) could have foreseen.

Friday November 30 - Jeffersonian - 14:28

"Is that all we've got?"

Booth gave a confirming nod. "I collected every piece of evidence, from cotton swabs to the Russian SV-99 rifle, and arranged for it to be transported to the Jeffersonian. What we've got here," he made a sweeping gesture from left to right at the three boxes standing neatly beside each other on top of one of the tables in Cam's personal examination room, "is all we have to catch the son of a bitch who's after us."

Hodgins pinched his lips into a thin grim line upon hearing Booth's reply to his question. "We won't let you down, Booth. We want to nail this guy's ass as much as you do."

Hodgins couldn't help but glance at Angela as he spoke. She was wedged in between Booth and Brennan at the other side of the table, spine stiff, arms crossed and head held up high despite her still healing injuries. Her bruises had turned all colors of the rainbow in the first days after the attack but had almost faded by now. The vicious drag marks on her chest were a different story. They had been deeper than they first seemed and took considerably longer to heal. It hurt Hodgins to see the angry red marks mar the beauty of Angela's delicate skin. But proud as she was, Angela was unwilling to let a few scratches rule her life. She plainly refused to wear turtle necks, scarves or anything else to cover up.

Hodgins' face softened while gazing at Angela. With a backbone made out of steel and a master at wielding stiletto shoes, Angela was a woman to be reckoned with. His eyes drifted to the vacant spot beside him on his and Cam's side of the table. As was Zach. Against all expectations the young genius had fought a fierce battle for consciousness and hadn't given up hope until Hodgins and Angela had come to rescue him. Zach's display of courage and strength filled Hodgins with pride...and triggered an outrage blistering and poisonous unlike any anger the entomologist had ever dealt with. It left him breathless and intensified the headache he had developed after leaving Zach at the hospital. If it wasn't for a lunatic who believed he had a license to torture and kill them, and a defective alarm system that had failed to protect Hodgins' property, Zach would have never ended up in the emergency department, barely breathing, shivering in shock.

"We'll do whatever we can, Seeley. If there's a clue hidden in one of these boxes, in one of these evidence bags, we'll find it."

When Cam's voice oozing with confidence resounded through the examination room, Hodgins jerked up his head and locked onto the pathologist's determined stance. As confident as Cam sounded, she hadn't quite managed to wipe all worry from her eyes. Perhaps her team regularly drove her up the walls, but she had come to respect and like them all. Angela's attack hadn't gone down well with her and Zach's kidnapping really pissed her off. Nobody touched her team; anybody trying to harm them would have to face her Bronx-born method of dealing with trouble. Hodgins mentally nodded approvingly. The team might have lost the advantage of working with a first class archeologist when Dr. Goodman left, but they had gained a very powerful ally in the fight for justice.

"But I can't help but wonder why the FBI forensics team would willingly give up their evidence," Cam asked, tilting her head and subjecting Booth to a questioning stare.

Booth only shrugged. "It's not like you haven't gone over FBI lab findings before. They've had enough time to come up with something useful. Now it's your turn." He quickly looked at Brennan. "Besides, if Bones here went to check up on them one more time, I would have had some serious explaining to do." To Hodgins' surprise Brennan didn't bother looking up from her meticulous examination of the cardboard evidence boxes. A small frown wrinkled his forehead. What was up with Brennan? Was she as shocked as he was about Zach's ordeal?

Booth, seemingly oblivious to his partner's lack of reaction, went on, "But that doesn't mean you're officially assigned to these cases. I could only borrow the evidence for a couple of hours. FBI squints want everything back by 18:00 so I suggest you get started."

Hodgins' hand shot out to touch the box of evidence on the utmost right. "I call dibs on the evidence from Zach's case."

"I'll work on blood and tissue samples," Cam offered.

In the silence that followed Cam's words, everyone turned to Brennan who remained uncharacteristically quiet. Eventually, after she suddenly tensed and threw a warning look at Booth, she said, "I'll see if I can find anything on the rifle and the bullet we retrieved."

Hodgins narrowed his eyes. Just before Brennan had stiffened, he had caught Booth's arm move ever so subtly. With the examination table and Angela covering his actions, Hodgins could only presume the agent had lifted his arm behind Angela and reached over to gently nudge Brennan. Something was definitely going on between these two, something different than before. Whatever it was specifically...Hodgins shook his head. It didn't matter at the moment. Personal relationships were of no importance when a murderer was on the loose.

"What do you want me to do, Booth?" Angela asked.

"I'd like you to try and reconstruct all of the attacks on the Angelator. This guy is methodical. I want to study his working method, see if there is a pattern. Because if there is one and we discover it, he loses the element of surprise. We can stop him if he becomes predictable." Looking around, Booth saw the remainder of his team nod in agreement. "Great," he said, firmly clapping his hands, "Let's get a move on then. Work your magic, squints."

--&---

Friday November 30 - Jeffersonian - 15:08

Several pieces of rope, some with ragged ends, some still as intact as if they had never been wound around an arm or leg, lay neatly rolled up inside a see-through plastic evidence bag. Together with a torn leaf from a Muhlenberg oak, a collection of cotton swabs and hair follicles that currently resided at Cam's work station, and a spoonful of gravel, they formed the evidence of Zach's kidnapping. Wearily, Hodgins eyed the largest hermetically sealed bag containing the ropes that had held Zach captive. Filthy, stained with forest soil and blood and without a doubt Zach's cold sweat, they rested on the smooth and cold surface of the table, next to the oak leaf Hodgins had previously been staring at.

Hesitantly Hodgins' hand hovered over the evidence bag. He had refrained from examining the ropes on purpose. Up until roughly three hours ago they had been drawn tight around Zach's body strapping him painfully to a thick tree trunk. The agony and disbelief that had stormed through Hodgins the minute he had stumbled across his friend had made his stomach turn...and it still did. Waves of nausea washed over him and he had to swallow repeatedly to clear the lump that had formed in his throat. Pulling and tugging in desperation, he had torn and almost gnawed the ropes that bound Zach. It had taken Hodgins nearly ten minutes -- an eternity -- to loosen all the knots and set his friend free. And now he had to touch those horrific cotton restraints again in the hopes of finding useful particles on them.

Drawing in a deep breath to muster some courage, he lowered his hand to pick up the bag...and instead had to grab the edge of the table in a tight grip. For the briefest of moments the world madly spun around in a whirlwind of blurry colors. It took a shake of his head, a couple of muttered curses, and all of his will to battle back the bile rising in his throat and to ignore the stabbing pains tearing his stomach to shreds. As if the mental torment of remembering what had happened to Angela and Zach wasn't enough, his body was acting up too. The stress and anguish were getting to him and were getting to him good. Soon there would be nothing left but frayed nerves and dark memories if he didn't move and find something that would help them catch their killer.

"How's it going, Hodgins? Found anything yet?"

When he turned to the right, Hodgins saw Booth standing a bit further along, hands in pockets and eyebrows slightly raised. "I was just about to examine the ropes." As inconspicuously as possible, Hodgins let go of the table edge he had been clinging to and motioned for Booth to come closer.

"I've only taken a look at the leaf and gravel I found. The leaf is from a Quercus muehlenbergii, a Muhlenberg's oak, a type of tree I happen to have a few of on my property. I knew exactly where to look because of the pupae attached to the leaf. It was an Erynnis horatius, Horace's Duskywings, a skipper that likes to use oak trees for hosts." Holding up the leaf with a hand clad in latex, Hodgins examined the pupae, willing his shaking hand to steady. "It's a fascinating little creature, to be honest. It's part of the Hesperiida family which means it's closely related to the true butterflies." He cast Booth a sideway glance and caught the subtle lifting of an eyebrow. "But I guess that's of no importance. What matters is that this leaf and this pupae led us straight to Zach."

Hodgins stepped back and moved down the table to where a Petri dish with a sample of gravel was waiting. With one eyebrow still arched high, Booth followed him.

"I collected this on my driveway. It's rather common gravel, sold throughout the States. It's used for driveways by thousands of typical all-American families." He shook his head, both to clear the fog that had settled in his mind and to express the hopelessness of using it to track down the killer. "I reckon our guy left it behind when he sped off after he had tied up Zach and left him to die." Anger rang clearly in Hodgins voice as he bit out the last words. "There were other particles mixed with the gravel. I'm having the computer analyze them as we speak." He glanced at Booth who by now had crossed his arms and was nodding thoughtfully. "How are the others doing?"

"Cam compared the blood covering Zach's robot with the scrapings we got from under Angela's nails. They're a match, just as we expected. We only need a different DNA sample to match them to if we want to get an ID on our killer. Bones is taking the rifle apart. I offered my help because of...you know...my expertise, but she wanted to work alone." Booth tried to muster a smile but the result was a rather forced grimace. "Angela is busy with reconstructing the attacks. I'll be going over them when I get back."

"Where are you going?"

"When you and Angela were at the hospital with Zach, I questioned a guy who made some money off of selling tapes of Bones to the highest bidder. I think our killer was one of his clients. I'm going to check out the drop off point, see if I can find any clues."

"Good luck with that."

Booth nodded his thanks. "I won't be long. When I get back, I'll probably have to take the evidence back to the FBI lab first."

"I'll make sure to have it all processed by then," Hodgins replied as he moved back to once more study the pupae. Booth nodded again and turned to leave. "Booth," Hodgins called after the agent without looking up. "Be careful, alright?" From the corner of his eye, he caught a quick wave of Booth's hand, signaling his affirmation.

Sighing, Hodgins threw a glance at the computer still analyzing the gravel, a frown creasing his forehead. Why were the numbers on the computer screen dancing? He quickly rubbed his eyes, but the numbers stayed blurry. The edges of his vision were blurry too as if he was looking at the world through a rain-streaked window. Pulling his shoulders back and straightening to his full height, Hodgins blinked several times and ignored the spikes of nausea poking and prodding his stomach.

His hand shook as he reached for the evidence bag containing the ropes. Carefully he opened it and almost immediately took a step back in disgust. The pieces of rope he pulled out of the plastic bag smelled as if they had been wrapped around a decomposing body for several months. Hodgins' face contorted as he breathed in the heavy, sour odor. No, that wasn't decomposing flesh he smelled. It was rotten eggs -- pure, rotten-to-the-core eggs with a touch of garlic to make the horrific smell all the more unsettling.

What was intriguing was that the rope actually looked as bad as it smelled. The original plain white color was completely gone; now it was a sickly brown. But not all of the pieces had changed color. Hodgins' frown deepened upon noticing this particular fact. Only a few pieces had turned brown; most were still as plain as before. Suddenly his eyes widened in understanding and he began drawing in short, rasping breaths. Clutching a length of revoltingly smelling rope, he lifted his other hand that was shaking uncontrollably. His eyes frantically darted back and forth.

Nausea, headache, abdominal pain, blurred vision, trembling hands, shortness of breath...and all at the same time. This couldn't be a coincidence. In fact, these symptoms pointed to something very specific...

Shit.

--&--

Friday November 30 - Jeffersonian - 15:44

"Angela?"

The last time Hodgins had heard his voice vibrate with such emotion, that it had been filled with such anguish and pain, had been when he had confessed to Angela his inability to sleep peacefully after the Gravedigger ordeal. But now it wasn't fear that caused his muscles to clench or his gut to swirl in a most sickening manner. It was the poison happily swimming in his bloodstream that was the culprit.

He grabbed the doorframe, knuckles white, and perspiration dripping down his forehead and temples. His knees shook and nearly buckled, as he surveyed the room through the haze that obscured his vision. Every breath cost him a tremendous effort. Every gasp for air resounded like a whip of wind in his ears. He felt the venom invading his organs making him ill from the inside out and he was powerless to stop it.

"Angela," he repeated, weaker this time. Still no answer. Wheezing from a lack of air, Hodgins clutched his stomach when it violently cramped. He staggered forward, stumbled across the room towards the Angelator in the hope Angela was hiding there. No such luck. All that precious energy he had wasted to cross a room when the person he was looking for, probably his only means of rescue, was nowhere to be seen. Another wave of nausea crashed into him, one so unsettling and damaging Hodgins gasped loudly and curled his fingers around the edge of the Angelator. Because of his muffled cry of pain, he hardly caught the sharp intake of breath behind him.

"Jack?"

The relief that shot through him made him forget about the spasms for a moment or two. "Angela," he breathed. Hodgins heard rather than saw her running towards him. She slid an arm around his waist and pulled one of his arms around her shoulder to support him. Gratefully he leaned against her, moaning in pain. "Promise me you won't touch the ropes Zach was tied with," he whispered.

"Why not?" she asked, already steering them towards the door and across the threshold.

"They're drenched in pesticide. Parathion to be exact." He paused to drag in a deep breath. "It turns brown when exposed to sunlight and smells like hell. It was developed by IG Farben in the 1940s. Dr. Gerhard Schrader was the inventor, I believe. Parathion was marketed worldwide after World War II under different brand names. E605 was the most common German brand name. E stands for 'Entwicklungsnummer', not for-"

"Jack, stop talking," Angela ordered him. "Save your strength."

Before Hodgins could reply, he heard two pairs of feet come rushing towards them. With difficulty he lifted his head and stared at the blurred faces of Brennan and Cam. They both looked alarmed, very alarmed. Well, they should be. He had succeeded at rubbing poisonous pesticide into his skin when he had untied Zach. If he wasn't treated within the next hour, if he didn't get an antidote into his system in time, this could end badly for him...very badly...the dead kind of 'badly'. Hoping it would shake his friends out of their momentary paralysis, Hodgins squinted at Brennan and Cam and muttered a clipped explanation, "Parathion. Pesticide."

Their eyes widened in horror. In no time Hodgins was leaning heavily on Angela's and Cam's shoulders as they maneuvered him out of the lab and across the parking lot. He had never before in his life been more grateful to see a car than he was now. Quickly his companions seated him in the back of Brennan's silver car. Hodgins was vaguely aware of Cam circling the vehicle and sitting down in the passenger seat and of Angela standing by his side of the car, probably intending on sliding into the back together with him. But strangely enough she refrained from getting in, preferred to stay outside far away from him. Hodgins groaned and fought to stay conscious for just a few more moments, just long enough to ask Angela what the hell was taking her so long.

It was in the middle of that struggle that he heard Angela's shout filled with impatience, fear and a hint of hysteria. "Brennan, what's taking you so long? Get over here, now!"

Hodgins cracked a small smile. Obviously Angela cared tremendously for him. But his smile vanished into thin air when he caught Brennan's reply just before he sank into oblivion. Her answer was nowhere near full of the rationality she held in such high regard. In fact, it was nowhere near being calm though she did try to mask her feelings. Her voice was brittle, terror evident in every syllable she pronounced. It stilled his heart, chilled his bones, stabbed his gut with a dagger as sharp as the poison currently circulating his body. In short, it terrified him.

"Why is Booth's car still here?"

Me? A Cliffie Queen? Now why would you think such a thing?? lol