I don't own any of the CM characters; can only wish that I did.
Chapter 4
32 HOURS TO SURGERY DEADLINE
Morgan pulled the unmarked car up to the front of the Barton's two-storey house and casually made his way to the front door. His quick knock was answered almost immediately and he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
Prentiss parked her own unmarked car a few houses down the street from the Barton's and turned off the ignition. She thought she made a pretty good show of pretending to adjust her make up while looking in the rear-view mirror. She didn't think that they had been followed and she saw no suspicious cars in the block. This was not surprising. Foyet was exceptionally intelligent and would expect them to protect the surgeon's son. He wouldn't need to follow the agents to the house, only to their next destination.
Thirty minutes later the front door to the house opened. Morgan and 'Jeffrey' came out, the latter wearing a hoodie and sunglasses. Like a typical teenager, he walked with a shuffling gait, slightly slumped shoulders and hands in the pockets of his jeans. Derek carried a knapsack, which he flung carelessly into the back seat of the car as the two men got into the vehicle.
***
Foyet chuckled as he turned the ignition key on the motorcycle. It seemed as though the FBI were as predictable as the local police. He had only been waiting for 10 minutes before the first car carrying plain-clothed detectives had arrived. 'Glaringly obvious.' the killer had thought.
Derek's non-descript Ford had been next.
Foyet had almost missed the third car, the one carrying the dark-haired female BAU agent. But she had caught his attention when she hadn't gotten out of the car after touching up her make-up. Why would you go to the trouble but then stay in your vehicle?
He followed this parade of seemingly unrelated cars at a discreet distance, weaving in and out of traffic like a biker just out for a joy ride. And why not? This was going to be an easy double-kill.
***
Morgan hurried the decoy into the small, deserted apartment building. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a key and seconds later the agent and officer were inside. Wordlessly, they secured their surroundings, ensuring the only two windows in the bachelor suite were locked and pulling down the shades. The room was on the third floor, so they were unconcerned about being taken unawares; the only sensible entry/exit was through the apartment's only door.
The undercover officer opened the knapsack and pulled out his gun and holster. Re-armed, he sat down at the only table and held up the cards to Morgan.
Morgan nodded and putting his own gun within easy reach joined his companion at the table.
"And now we wait." he said grimly, noting the time on his watch.
***
Prentiss waited until Morgan and 'Jeffrey' were inside the apartment building and the two plain-clothes officers stationed at pre-arranged check points before she drove around the block. Leaving the car, she doubled back on foot, peeking around the corner from her vantage place behind a large phone booth. She was just in time to see a motorcycle slow down as it passed the apartment building, its rider looking around carefully before gunning the engine and disappearing down another road.
Emily spoke into her communicator. "The rat has smelt the bait."
***
28 HOURS TO SURGERY DEADLINE
JJ, Reid and Garcia sat restlessly together in the BAU bullpen. Reid was due to give Rossi a quick break in an hour so he was sitting with his feet up on his desk in an attempt to doze. JJ would relieve Prentiss at the Barton residence but not for another few hours so she tried to relax by focussing on Garcia's recounting of the day's gossip. Time was their enemy and each team member found himself/herself glancing nervously up at the clock on the wall. As slowly as it seemed to be passing for the agents, it was going far too quickly for their fallen leader.
"Any update from Rossi?" asked Garcia for the umpteenth time.
JJ sighed and smiled slightly. "Pen, you just asked us 5 minutes ago..."
"Sorry..."
They sat in jittery silence.
***
Behind a curtain in the ICU, all was deathly quiet save for the sound of the medical equipment and the patient's heart beat. David Rossi put a book down on the floor next to his chair and took Hotch's hand in his. The Unit Chief was extremely pale and there was a slight bluish tinge to his complexion. Rossi knew that his friend wasn't circulating the full amount of oxygen his body needed in spite of the respirator; the bullet was slowly killing him.
"Hang on Aaron." whispered Dave. "I know you. You won't give up. Keep fighting Hotch. Don't let Foyet win..."
His voice cracked. He had lost colleagues over the course of his career, but this was different. This man meant a hell of a lot more to him. SSA Hotchner was family, and Rossi didn't say that easily.
"Just hang on, Aaron." the older agent repeated. "The doctor is going to remove that bullet and then you'll be as right as rain. But you need to give him that chance..."
He checked the clock on one of the machines then watched Hotch's rib cage rise and fall to the rhythm of the ventilator. 'Please hang on...'
***
Prentiss had taken her time in returning to the Barton's to make sure she wasn't followed. She even twice switched vehicles and parked in the driveway of one of the surgeon's neighbours. So far so good.
Mrs. Sarah Barton led her into the living-room where her son Jeffrey was watching a movie on the television. He looked up as Emily entered and flashed her a shy smile.
"Hi Jeffrey, I'm Agent Prentiss from the FBI. But you can call me Emily." She held out her hand and he shook it; confidently for a teen, the agent thought.
"I'm Jeff."
His eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of the gun on her hip. "Um, you don't really think that guy is going to come here do you?"
"We hope not but I get the easy job of hanging out here just in case. Always better to be prepared. You guys have locked all of the windows?"
Sarah nodded. "We've followed your instructions to the letter... Nigel too."
Emily smiled encouragingly. "Good. Please don't let me interrupt you. I'll just sit here where I can see the front of the house." She chose a comfortable-looking chair which was located next to the window. From it, she had a good view of the empty driveway and most of the front yard without needing to move the curtain. She settled into the chair and prepared herself for a long wait.
***
Morgan sighed heavily as Pete Tubbs, aka 'Jeffrey' won yet another round of poker. "Man, this is gonna be a long wait, in more ways than one." he grumbled.
Tubbs grinned. "Had enough?"
"One more game."
As he shuffled the deck of cards, Derek was reminded of all the stakeouts he had done with Hotch over the years. Thinking of his boss caused him to glace uneasily at his watch. 'Come on out and show yourself Foyet, you coward!' he thought.
Derek hated waiting. He was a man of action, not patience. Yet he knew that Foyet was exceedingly disciplined. The killer would wait as long as necessary, realizing that every minute meant more danger to the BAU Chief... assuming that the Reaper took the bait...
"Did you hear something?!" Tubbs' hand had gone to his weapon.
Morgan doused the light and the two men moved to opposite sides of the door. Derek looked through the peephole. The hallway appeared empty. Slowly, he opened the door and paused before carefully sticking his head out. There was nobody in sight. Morgan let out the breath that he'd been holding and was about to tell Tubbs everything was okay when he caught sight of a suspicious-looking red wet spot on the carpet. His eyes followed it to the apartment's door and he was instantly alert. He ducked back into the room and shut the door.
"He's here!" he hissed.
They stood in the darkness for a full 15 minutes but heard nothing further. Finally Morgan turned the light back on.
Tubbs raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"Foyet was here. He left us his calling card."
"Which is what?" asked Tubbs.
Morgan opened the door again. Painted in bright red was a large eye with several markings. Derek had seen it several times in Boston, although on those occasions the symbol had been done using blood from the Reaper's victims.
"What is it?"
"It's called the eye of providence, or something like that." replied Morgan. "Foyet wants to toy with us. He wants us to think he can have us whenever he chooses."
Losing his temper in sudden frustration, Morgan slapped his hand on the table. "Damn him!"
Quickly recovering from his outburst the profiler then reached for his phone. "Rossi? We may have a problem and you should be ready for company..."
***
16 HOURS TO SURGERY DEADLINE
Ever since he had received Morgan's phone call David Rossi had been on edge. Instead of going home to sleep when Reid arrived to relieve him, the older agent had phoned Sean and Haley and told them to stay away from the hospital until they got the okay from two members of the BAU. Dave didn't want to risk Foyet capturing one of the team and attempting to use them to get to Hotch's family since the serial killer had already proven himself as a master of manipulation and control.
"We hope it's just precautionary." He had tried to reassure them both.
Now, returning from the cafeteria with coffees for both himself and Reid, Rossi began to feel the first twinges of panic. He knew the clock was ticking. Sitting next to Hotch, he was witness to his best friend's slow deterioration. The doctors had hoped the Unit Chief would become stronger but the opposite was happening. Dr. Barton had reduced the time between checks on the patient. He had also warned Rossi that they may not be able to wait the original length of time before operating.
Rossi studied the doctor carefully as Nigel delivered this latest blow. The surgeon seemed to be holding up relatively well under the strain and had given no indication that he would pass off Hotch's case to another colleague. But Dave didn't want to take any chances. The team needed to catch Foyet before Hotch went into the OR, it was that simple.
Of course, the difficulty was that Foyet was equally aware of Agent Hotchner's medical condition and even if tempted to go after Morgan, would no doubt delay his attack as long as possible.
Rossi swore in silent frustration. He paused outside of the curtain separating Hotch from the rest of the ICU; Dave didn't want Reid to see his misgivings. The team needed their interim leader to be strong. He took a deep breath and was about to push the curtain aside when a wide-eyed Nigel Barton rushed into the ICU and bee-lined towards the Agent. The doctor was carrying a piece of paper in his hand.
Rossi put the two coffee cups down on a nearby countertop and took the paper. A chill went down his spine as he looked at the now-familiar red symbol of the Reaper. Written underneath the eye were the words 'REMEMBER OUR DEAL'.
He looked up to find the doctor sitting in a chair, his head in his hands and his shoulders heaving. The pressure on Dr. Barton was becoming enormous and Dave knew that he needed to calm the surgeon down and fast.
"Nigel, he's playing mind games with us. Remember what I told you about his profile... manipulate and instil fear. He is still going to go after Agent Morgan first. I believe this even more now that I've seen this note. Foyet wants you to think again about whether you will perform the operation on Agent Hotchner. And when you do walk into that OR, he wants to make sure that you're jittery and not fully concentrating."
"He's doing a great job, David." Nigel said despondently, his face still buried in his hands. "I don't know if I can operate..."
Rossi gently removed the doctor's hands from his face and looked him in the straight in the eye. He put all the confidence and authority he could into his voice as he said, "Dr. Barton, you have to trust me. This team will not let anything happen to your son or family. We will not let anything happen to you. Aaron will fight for his life, but we both know that desire isn't enough. He needs that operation and he needs YOU to do it. I know it's difficult, but please, please prepare to work your magic and leave everything else to us."
The surgeon swallowed. "I'll try..." he said softly. "I'm sorry Agent Rossi but I can't promise anything more right now." He rose and without another word, walked slowly away.
***
Back in his hotel room, George Foyet grinned to himself as he sharpened his knife. Hotchner's tie and Morgan's identification were laid out on the bed, ready to go. But there wasn't any rush. The surgeon had said that they would wait as long as possible to operate so he had lots of time to enjoy his latest victories: the delivery of his messages to the FBI. It had almost been too easy.
In contrast, the serial killer knew the next plan would be more difficult to execute so he repeated its details in his head. He needed to maintain his discipline. He would target Morgan first; the doctor's son would be dessert. Foyet expected little resistance once the boy had witnessed the death of an Agent. Then he would make his way to the hospital and wait. If by some miracle Hotchner beat the odds and made it out of surgery then Foyet would delay as long as it took for the man to regain consciousness; it was imperative Hotchner be awake when he struck.
Chuckling in anticipation he placed the knife next to his trophies on the bed and lay down next to them. It wouldn't hurt to get a bit of rest to maximize his strength before show time. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought that THIS would be the moment when he became bigger than Bundy.
***
