akacinno's A/N: Onward we go! And this is a good 'un! : D
dieselwriter's A/N: Teeheehee...for those of you who waited it out, here it is! Chapter Five! And if the last one had twists and turns, this one certainly has a few bumps in the road!
Chapter Five
Law Offices of Preston Mooney, Washington, DC
April 23rd
"I'm afraid we don't have much in regards to security," the young secretary looked nervous as he opened up a hallway door. "Cameras cover the front lobby and loading dock out back, but even then it's not like we have anyone monitoring it 24/7. We're not that big of a law firm."
"It can't hurt to cover the bases, though," Clarke said, giving a fake smile. She had to wonder what the youth would think if he found out his boss was involved in one of the biggest laundering schemes of the decade.
"Guess not," he shrugged and led them into the tiny room.
Reid and Clarke looked at the grainy black and white monitors on the wall, showing the front lobby they had entered five minutes ago and the completely empty loading dock.
"It's kind of pathetic I know," the secretary shifted his feet self-consciously. "It's mostly used to catch loiterers in the back or employees stealing stuff."
Clarke smirked and her eyebrows rose at the irony while Reid kept his face straight, his attention on the monitors.
"Do you know how many people are employed in this building?" Reid asked.
"Ah, jeez," he rubbed the back of his neck in thought. "I dunno…we've got 50 in our firm alone. At least 400, I guess. Why do you ask?"
"Where do you park?"
"Park? This is DC; most people working here take the Metro. I know I can't afford to drive."
"For those of you who can, though," Clarke took up the cause. "Like Mr. Mooney. Does he use a parking garage?"
"Yeah, I've seen him in his Beamer. There's one a block from here. That'd be my guess."
"Perfect, thanks," Reid said, turning his back on the security room and leaving out the open door. The secretary looked confused at his departure and turned to her.
"I thought you wanted to check out some of the security tapes?" he asked her.
"You said it yourself; it's not much," she shrugged as she made to follow Reid. "We're not here to catch a loiterer or thief."
The secretary paled and remained in the security room as Clarke caught up to Reid at the elevator.
"I hope the parking garage has better security," Reid said as the elevator pinged and opened to allow them to enter.
"It can't get much worse," Clarke remarked. "Should I ask Garcia to look in on it?"
"We can check it out first. She's only a fan of a challenge."
She laughed, easily imagining the technical analyst saying as much, before the elevator dinged once again and they entered the lobby. "You know the way?"
"I am the map guy," Reid gave a good-natured grin as he led her out of the building.
"This weather can't be natural," Clarke complained when they stepped out onto the street and pulled out their sunglasses.
"It's unseasonably hot for DC, actually," Reid said, following the path mapped out in his head. "The average high in April is 66. It doesn't usually start hitting the mid-80's until June. Although, it did reach a record high of 95 on April 17th back in 2002."
"Lucky for us it hasn't gotten that bad yet, I guess."
Reid gave a good-natured smile at the fact that she hadn't immediately tuned out his weather trivia, and she returned it as they entered the heavily shaded parking garage. Both removed their sunglasses and examined the space.
"Cameras," Reid pointed out the electronic devices hiding in the corners.
"But no valet service," Clarke commented, glancing around shrewdly. "Guess Mr. Mooney would be on his own out here."
"This can't be it," Reid frowned, squinting around the garage. "There's no visibility; our UnSub has no chance of hitting him. Not to mention how crowded it is down here."
"Then we ride up," Clarke nodded towards a dilapidated elevator. "Top floor might have visibility, space, and Mr. Mooney's Beamer."
Neither said much on the trip up, except to make note on the lack of cameras inside the rickety elevator. They exited on the top floor, both pleased to leave its old confines.
"Nice ride," Clarke approved the Beamer, which was parked by its lonesome far away from them. "Does it make any sense to have a car like that parked in a dump like this?"
"Hiding it in plain sight?" Reid said, walking toward it while taking in his surroundings. "Or efficiency; there's another parking garage four blocks from here that costs twice as much to park but is immeasurably better in regards to sanitation and service. But it would also add on an extra ten minutes to his commute."
"A man who values his time and his cars, then," Clarke marveled at the expensive vehicle, appreciating how displaced it was in the dirty garage. "Hey Spencer, check this out."
"Hmm?" Reid moved to her side and looked to where she was pointing.
"How's that for visibility?"
With the car parked at the end of the garage, the windows of the motel next to them were easy to find.
"If Mooney established a routine and parks here every day then we have a prime target for our UnSub," Reid confirmed but frowned at hearing a noise behind him.
Both agents turned to find the elevator opening and someone stepping out, swathed in a baseball cap and unseasonable dark jacket and gloves.
The figure stumbled to a stop a mere five feet from the elevator when he glanced up and took in the sight of the two federal agents investigating the lonely Beamer.
A leaden weight fell into Reid's stomach and he took an instinctive step forward as the stranger moved backwards.
"Spencer?" Clarke looked between her partner and the newcomer, feeling edgy.
"It's him," he replied, taking another step forward as his hand slowly reached for the gun at his waist.
"It's…" Clarke trailed off as the coated figure stole back into the elevator, and it was easy to see him feverishly jamming one of the buttons before the doors closed on him. "Damn."
They raced to the stairwell, jumping down the cement stairs three at a time. The door banged open and they flew out onto the ground floor just in time to see their quarry turn the corner onto the street.
"FBI!" Clarke shouted ahead of her as they continued their chase, rounding the corner and sprinting between alarmed pedestrians to keep up with the hooded figure half a block ahead of them. "Move out of the way!"
Clarke was surprised to find Reid easily keeping pace with her, his trainers slapping heavily on the concrete in a frantic beat.
The UnSub ran across the street to disappear down an alley and Reid stepped off the curb, meaning to follow.
"Reid!" Clarke grabbed his shoulder just as a taxi sailed by, blaring its horn at the pair of them.
"Come on!" he panted, taking better precaution the second time around before running across the street, Clarke on his heels.
They ran side by side down the alleyway and came out the other end to find an abandoned street.
"Damn," Clarke echoed her earlier statement, jogging down the road a bit to see if she could find their man. It was in vain, however; he had seemingly vanished as quickly as he appeared.
"He's got to be here," Reid appeared nervous as he paced down the street in the opposite direction, likewise coming up empty-handed.
"He was here," she sighed heavily, swiping at the sweat settling on the back of her neck. "He had too much of a lead on us."
"This is the only big lead we've had all case and we lost it," Reid stood dejected, running a hand through his hair. "Morgan's going to kill us."
Clarke sighed, worried herself about the prospect of thatconversation, when an elderly man stepped out of a store to address the pair of agents.
"You two looking for that maniac who just ran down the street?"
Clarke and Reid glanced at each other meaningfully before returning to their new informant.
"Where did he go?" Reid asked breathlessly.
"Back that way," the man shot a thumb over his shoulder. "Turned left on Jackson."
"Thank you!" Reid called back and they ran off once again down the street, turning left as the man had suggested.
The man in the overcoat was found again, running far ahead of them without slowing.
"Can you get a shot?" Reid asked, slowing only when Clarke stopped to withdraw her weapon to line up the shot.
"FBI!" she shouted again in warning. "Don't move!"
The UnSub glanced over his shoulder before beginning to weave, having no other close streets or alleyways to turn down.
Clarke slowed her breathing as she followed his running pattern before firing. The bullet tore through the material of the man's large coat but otherwise left him unfazed as he continued running. She was able to go through two more rounds before he found shelter behind a parked minivan.
"Nice one," Reid complimented as they took to sprinting after him now that he was cornered.
"Thanks," she replied breathlessly, but she felt any pleasure at the praise disappear the minute she realized that the UnSub wasn't using the minivan for protection.
He was using it as his getaway.
Both Reid and Clarke took aim at the tires of the van as it pealed down the street, but even when one bullet took out a tire it was still able to tear around a corner and disappear out of sight.
"Call it in," Reid said, continuing to sprint after the car.
"It didn't have a license plate," she called after him, deflated.
"Call it in!" he repeated in a shout over his shoulder, not stopping.
Even as she dialed Hotch's number, that nagging feeling of it being 'one of those days' made itself present once again.
Red and blue lights flashed from the police cars lining Jackson Street. Stopping the car, Hotch unbuckled his seatbelt and went to leave the SUV, while beside him Morgan swiftly exited and slammed the door shut behind him.
"Morgan," Hotch warned, getting out as well, but Morgan paid him no mind as he ran ahead at a driven pace.
Hotch followed, glancing at the investigators who watched Morgan curiously.
"Back to work," he ordered at them and they gave him a reproachful look that he ignored.
"You let him get away?" Morgan shouted as he neared the two FBI agents.
Reid and Clarke, who were speaking to a pair of cops, both looked up in surprise at the sudden verbal attack.
"Did you even chase him?" he asked, fury slicing through his words. "Did you even try?"
"Morgan-" Clarke began, but he cut across her.
"Being new is no excuse," he hissed at her and she winced at the low blow.
"Morgan," Hotch advised threateningly, approaching the group. "Enough."
"No Hotch, not this time," he shot back at him. "Not with this guy. We could have had him."
"He ran into us out of the blue," Clarke rationalized defensively. "And we did chase after him-"
"Out of the blue—?" Morgan repeated, incredulous. "The whole point of scoping out potential targets was to find this guy! What part of that is so difficult for you to comprehend—?"
"Morgan, that's—" Hotch began furiously.
"Cool it, Morgan," Reid snapped, stepping in front of Clarke. "If it's anyone's fault, it would be mine. I have more experience. I should have been more vigilant."
"Spencer," Clarke frowned but couldn't continue when Morgan's eyes widened dangerously.
"You're right; it is your fault—"
"Derek!" Hotch yelled, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him away from Reid. They matched each other's defiant stare as Hotch gave him a small shake. "You are completely out of line."
Morgan shoved him away and a moment went by in silence. He glared at the three of them with murder in his eyes, his focus finally landing on Reid.
"If this guy gets away and goes after others," he threatened, his jaw clenching, "The families of our dead victims will have no one to blame but you."
With one last glower, he stormed off towards one of the shops containing the few witnesses to the UnSub's escape. Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose, placing the other on his hip, and gave a stressed sigh. As if he didn't have enough on his plate without all of this.
Clarke watched as Morgan shoved past a cop and swung the door of the building open with unnecessary force that nearly made it come off its hinges.
She glanced up at Reid. He was still staring numbly at the spot where Derek had been staring him off.
"Hey," she whispered softly and he blinked. He looked down at her, a need of reassurance in his frown. "There was nothing more we could have done."
"She's right," Hotch said to him and they both looked at him, a bit surprised. "You both did well. I'll talk to Morgan later. Right now, let's stay focused."
Reid gave a half smile that didn't touch his eyes and he and Clarke nodded.
"So? How'd it go?"
The solemn faces of Morgan, Reid, and Clarke didn't register Paige's pleasantries as they bypassed him to enter the DC police department. Hotch stopped short to eye the Chief of Police cautiously.
"You should be inside," Hotch replied.
"I just needed some fresh air. And look at that sunset, eh?"
Hotch couldn't deny him that request; the heat of the day had finally broken, making the twilight hour quite comfortable. The sun was nestling behind a tall apartment complex down the road, painting the sky vibrant streaks of fierce red, yellow, and orange.
"Besides, Shelly's here to protect me. Aren't you, Shelly?"
The tall, broad-shouldered red head raised an eyebrow but remained stationary at his side.
"Top of her class, that one. Why she's wasting her brains to work for an old geezer like myself is beyond my comprehension."
Hotch offered the man a small grin, pleased to have one moment of tranquility in the mayhem of the day.
"So Aaron, what's got your team in a tizzy?"
Any trace of calm wiped off the FBI agent's face as the memory of what had occurred that afternoon resurfaced.
"Reid and Clarke ran into one of our UnSubs."
"Well that's exciting!" Paige's face lit up enthusiastically. "And here I was afraid we might come out empty-handed! Any way we might be able to establish a pattern? To determine who he might try to go after next?"
Hotch didn't show it, but he felt some of his stress melt, pleased to have such an optimistic spin on what his teammates had so far considered a lost opportunity.
"This was carefully planned in advance. Each strike our UnSub makes capitalizes on the victims' work schedules. He must have a contingency plan set up once we caught on to who he was after."
"Do you think he'll switch targets now that we're on to him?"
"It's possible, but not likely. We've definitely slowed his progress, though."
"Thrown a good wrench in the plan, eh?" Paige said genially. "Good on you and your team."
"We wouldn't be nearly as successful without your cooperation. It's greatly appreciated, Thomas."
"It's always our pleasure, Aaron," Paige clapped Hotch on the back before grabbing his shoulder to steer him inside. "Come, let's talk tactics. Figure out our next course of action—"
"Down!"
A shot rang out in the still evening air a split second after both men were shoved forward onto the ground just in front of the door of the police station. More gunfire and shattering glass mingled with shouts and screams in a wild cacophony during the few seconds it took Hotch to regain his feet.
"Shelly! Shelly!"
The officer that had been standing at Paige's side to keep watch was now sprawled on the ground, scrambling for breaths as blood pumped out of her neck. Paige was next to her, eyes filled with horror, as he ignored his own bleeding shoulder to stem the flow that was making a pool of thick, cooling blood under her head.
The squealing of tires alerted Hotch to the offender causing the scene. He was running before he was really aware of the sedan screeching around a group of parked cars, making its way to the exit. Hotch stood in the path of the oncoming vehicle, feeling blood pump in his ears.
Adrenaline surged through him as he whipped out his gun and fired at the car.
One bullet missed the mark and hit the road, two ricocheted off the front bumper, and one lodged itself in the windshield, causing the glass to crack. He cursed, willing himself not to go for a kill shot that would prevent them from getting information.
The driver didn't seem perturbed by the attack in the slightest; the car continued its intended path to the exit and freedom. Hotch remained stubbornly in its way, continuing to shoot at it and feeling a small sense of elation when he successfully shot both the front tires with consecutive shots.
Although hindered, the car didn't stop its forward progress. Hotch fired at the hood of the car but it continued to barrel right for him in an unbalanced game of chicken.
It took until the car was mere feet from him for Hotch to realize that he wouldn't win this battle tonight. But knowing the war was still very much up for grabs, he did what he did best: profiled.
In the split seconds it took for the beat-up car to close the distance to the Unit Chief, Hotch's eyes darted from the oak leaf lodged under the windshield wiper to the fine grey dust on the floor of the car to the two black cases—one large and long, one small and worn—settled on the backseat to the driver himself. Ski mask, exposing brown eyes and a thin-lipped mouth. A mole right below his left, dirty blond eyebrow, a small scar on his lip. Large, dark grey hoody that his lanky frame was drowning in. Black gloves partially concealing a black wristwatch.
Hotch jumped out of the way belatedly; the front bumper he had dented with bullets hit him in the knee. The force of the blow made him cry out and his abrupt meeting with the parking lot asphalt made him cringe. The rims of the car sprayed sparks as it turned the corner and eventually disappeared down the street.
The Unit Chief breathed through his nose as his knee throbbed painfully, but inside he felt like he had finally won something. He had prevented the UnSub from getting away without a clue left behind, and thanks to Officer Shelly's quick and brave actions, the UnSub had not accomplished what he had set out to do.
If their UnSub was a risk-taker, it hadn't paid off tonight.
"Hotch! HOTCH!"
Morgan was shouting for him and approaching at an alarming rate. Hotch attempted to find his feet and stumbled when his knee buckled, unwilling to take any weight.
"Easy, Hotch, the bus is on its way," Morgan said on his arrival, immediately taking Hotch's elbow.
"It's just a bruised knee," was his reply, but he accepted the dark agent's support. "We need to act quickly Morgan."
"You're in no shape for that," Morgan reprimanded as he directed his injured boss back to the station. "Some of Paige's guys are already after him."
"That's not what I'm referring to," Hotch said, limping along. "I saw him, Morgan."
Morgan halted momentarily to stare at the Unit Chief.
"We'll need Garcia's help," Hotch went on, hiding a smirk at the surprised look still on his teammate's face. "But I think this might have provided us with a new lead."
Both agents glanced toward their destination, taking in the scene at the front of the police station where Shelly's body now laid motionless. Paige ignored those trying to attend to his shoulder wound, crying silently over the officer who had given her life to protect him.
"I hope it did," Morgan's face darkened as the sound of sirens reached their ears.
akacinno's A/N: Yahoo! : D See y'all next Monday!
dieselwriter's A/N: Waaaah! If this were an episode I would call this the action before the big unveiling! We are getting close, people!