"It is restful, tragedy, because one knows that there is no more lousy hope left. You know you're caught, caught at last like a rat with all the world on its back. And the only thing left to do is shout - not moan, or complain, but yell out at the top of your voice whatever it was you had to say. What you've never said before. What perhaps you don't even know till now."
Jean Anouilh.
February seventh.
Same day.
Monday.
18.19.
Special Crime Unit, Headquarters, Atlanta.
Atlantis meant in Greek 'the island of Atlas'. Atlas was a primordial titan who held up the celestial sphere. He was believed to be the titan of astronomy and navigation. The celestial sphere stood for the Sky, also called Uranus, which he was doomed by Zeus to carry after the titans were defeated by the Olympians. Atlantis was first mentioned by Plato in a dialogue between Timaeus and Critias, and according to Plato, the island laid in front of the Pillars of Hercules. The Pillars of Hercules, in their turn, were later translated as "the farthermost limits reached by Heracles". The pillars served as a warning for sailor and navigators to go no further as they bore the words 'Nec plus ultra', which meant 'nothing further beyond'. This translated back as Atlantis, after it sunk in a single day and night of misfortune, was placed in the realm of the Unknown.
Reid warily looked around the room, hoping that his colleagues managed to process his words. There was a silence as they looked at each other. Prentiss was the first to speak. "Okay, so I got all that, but I still don't get it. Why is Abby giving us a message about a non-existing land?"
Reid pursed his lips. "I don't know yet." He started to go through the papers before him – the case file, the envelope delivered to Hotch, his own notes, Abby's personal file.
"We need to start at the absolute beginning." Rossi said. "Start right over." He glanced at Hotch. "We keep dropping in this case, going from one point to the other." Which is probably just how Abby wants it.
"Okay, so the murders started in Atlanta, right?" Prentiss took the opportunity to make a fresh start and sat down at the table. The glass of Team One's primary room was matte again, shielding them from the outside.
"We profiled him to be-" Hotch was cut off by Rossi.
"Hang on. Absolute beginning."
He nodded. "Girls were abducted, all blondes, all 15 years of age. Their bodies were disposed of in Atlanta, yes" He intertwined eyes with Prentiss, "but they weren't all from Atlanta itself. They were born in the Atlanta area. A few never even lived in the city."
"But he still disposed of the bodies near Atlanta. That means Atlanta is his home ground." Morgan concluded.
"Could Atlantis be code for Atlanta?" JJ suggested.
"That wouldn't make sense." Garcia piped from behind her faithful laptop. She had her head resting on her hands, leaving the laptop in peace. "If Atlantis stands for Atlanta, then why we should tell you guys to leave Atlanta and at the same time leave a message guiding us to Atlantis?"
"Good point." Rossi remarked. Garcia grew a few inches and smiled.
"Plus, Atlantis, I mean, Abby's a genius, we all know that, so she knows all these things that we don't. She's leaving a clue that obviously means a lot more than we can comprehend at this time. We'll have to do extensive research in order to figure it out. Right?"
"Only… Prentiss looked at Reid from the corner of her eyes. "We also have a genius."
"You're the key, Reid." Morgan told him wisely. The absent mien on the genius' face said enough – he had already figured it out.
"Atlantis." He mumbled. "It's Greek mythology. The city that fell because of greed and sin."
Hotch nodded at himself. "Abby's greed to catch him, the sins she has committed while trying to get him. It's as much a message from Abby as a link between her and the Unsub."
"The Athiens had to burn because of their failed attempt to conquer Athens."
"Athens?" JJ repeated. "Abby used my name when she called Athens PD about another victim."
"We're not looking for Atlantis." Reid suddenly said strongly and confident. He rose from his chair and walked to the boards.
"We're not?" Prentiss questioned and made a gesture that she now lost it completely.
"Atlantis doesn't matter." Reid bluntly replied. "That's the whole point."
"People believed it to be a castle, a fortress, right?" McCallister asked. He had been sitting opposite of Hotch and mostly let the BAU team just do what they did best, offering whatever information he thought was helpful whenever he thought it was needed.
Garcia nodded. "That's what I gathered from my 5 minute Wikipedia-moment."
"It's a castle Abby built to keep safe." Morgan turned in his chair, joining Reid in his train ride towards answers. The rest of the group remained silent, some glancing in Hotch' direction, all sending him the same thought – they could solve it based on their knowledge of Abby and their intimate moments with her.
"She created another world, another identity." Reid mumbled out loud as he explained it all in figures on one of the boards. "We're looking at this the wrong way. The Unsub set Abby up in Atlanta with a woman that isn't his type. Louisa was a brunette, never been a blonde, yet this Unsub is extremely preferential."
"So he killed Louisa to send Abby a message. Come too close and I'll take the people you love." Morgan remembered.
"A failed attempt to conquer Athens." Reid quoted the earlier words. "Abby's greed in bringing him down, sinning as she does it – she is Atlantis. Not existing, a made-up story." He turned towards the rest of his team. "The Trojan horse is also Greek mythology. The Greeks used a wooden horse, a Trojan horse, to get into the city of Troy and thus end the war. Louisa Delgado was the Unsub's Trojan horse, that's how he got into Abby's castle."
"And it worked because not only did he get away" Morgan added, "he also got Abby away from anybody that could help her."
"He got her away from her job, from her reputation here in the city, away from the police, from us." Reid continued. "But he also managed to separate her from her best friend, from Miles, who had been hunting him with her. The last step was eliminating the last people that were still helping her trying to catch him." He paused as his eyes found McCallister. "Her old team."
Something hit him in the face. There was a voice, a small creature sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. He got the tickles in his stomach, the emerging fist in his chest. His entire skin ached as he realised whatever there had been right there was close. Really close. Unfortunately, before Hotch could grasp it, JJ's phone rang. As he turned his head to look at the blonde, his eyes met McCallister's and the voice grew louder again. Something was right there.
JJ picked up, not recognising the caller id. "Special agent Jennifer Jareau speaking." Her skin instantly lost its colour once she heard the voice.
"Is this the FBI Behavioural Analysis Unit communication liaison?" It said.
"It is. Who am I speaking with?" She answered, signalling to the rest of her team that something was going on.
"I think you know who I am. JJ, could you be a dear and put me on speaker?"
JJ removed the phone from her ear and put it on mute before anything else. "I think it's him." She blurted.
"The Christian Killer?" Garcia gasped. When her best friend nodded, she started typing. "I'm recording the phone call and I'll try to triangulate the call as we speak. Oh, you're going down, sucker."
They're faces seemed whiter than usual. The skin seemed to be able to break any second due to the hardening of their faces, the hostility and agitation keen in their eyes. They all stood at the ready, McCallister included – ready to jump at the one on the other end of the phone. JJ looked at Hotch, who bobbed his head and pressed the speaker button on her phone.
"This is SSA Hotchner with the FBI. Who am I talking to?"
There was a silence that seemed to last for ages. "Agent Hotchner." The mechanic, deformed voice on the other end was cool and calculated.
"Yes." Hotch replied, trying to see if he expose the caller and figure out if he was really the Christian Killer.
"It's been a while."
"Who is this?"
"You know who I am, agent Hotchner. We met before."
"Yes, well, ten years is a long time."
The voice made a sound that looked like a chuckle. "Nice try, agent Hotchner. But you and I both know that it's been twelve. Almost thirteen now. Ahw. We never celebrated our anniversary." Hotch looked at McCallister. It was proof that they were dealing with someone who knew the basic information, but they needed solid proof that it was him.
"You've got something that belongs to me." The voice said.
"And what would that be?"
"You've got my Sunday." There were looks going around the room. He skipped Saturday. "And I want her back."
"Who is Sunday?" Hotch tried.
"I don't play your games, Aaron. Sunday's been bad. She took my Saturday. You know that. But that's okay. You can have Saturday. I just want Sunday. I want my darling back."
Reid launched himself from his seat quietly and pressed the mute button. "He quoted the exact same text as on the note found at the crime scene." Hotch nodded and Reid pushed the button again.
"Just for the record, and to make sure we understand each other, who is Sunday?"
"Oh. Oh oh, agent Hotchner." His voice sounded cynical, as if talking to a child that had done something wrong. "You and I both know that we understand each other. Perfectly. Give me my darling back, or I'll take one of yours."
His last words sent a shock wave through the team. The initial shock was met with reasoning – how could he know about the team anyway? He was obsessed with his 'darlings' and Abby, not them. He shouldn't even acknowledge their existence. However, fear was quickly put back into their hearts as the voice spoke again.
"Agent Morgan, does your sister still attend yoga class every Tuesday evening? Mmmh? As for agent McCallister, well, I can't take your daughter anymore, but I could still go after your wife. Oops, my mistake, ex-wife. As for you, agent Hotchner, I could of course still take your son. Do what the Reaper had failed to do."
"Threats like these will get you nowhere. We don't have Zoe Price. She died." Hotch told him, trying hard to control his emotions.
"God will punish those who sin. Lying is a sin, agent, and I am right. Keeping my darling from me, is a sin. God will teach you a lesson soon. I will have my darling back."
The bleep at the end of his sentence indicated that he had hung up. Morgan cursed, JJ had covered her mouth, Rossi and Prentiss shared a look. Instinctively, Hotch turned to Garcia, who returned his look with big eye, pleading him not to make her say it. She shook her head.
"Goddamn it!" Morgan cursed again and threw his hands in the air.
"You'll need to arrange for your family's to be taken somewhere safe. We can't take the risk." McCallister ordered them. JJ nodded and grabbed her cell phone, shock still present on her bleak face.
"He's been watching us." Rossi commented sternly.
"No." Morgan shot sharply. Rossi look at him. "He's been watching Hotch and McCallister and me. Exactly those three that Abby warned."
"Yeah, but she used my name in Athens. The caller didn't mention me."
"He must think you're not that important." Reid told her softly.
"Frankie obviously thinks she is." Prentiss replied, shrugging a shoulder as she spoke.
"He did call me." JJ closed her eyes for a few seconds. "I'm the glue." She quoted Abby's earlier words.
"Did you say glue?" The blonde tech blurted out as she looked up from her computer screen. She had been quiet, working hard to track the caller.
"Yeah. Abby meant that I keep the team together. Hence, I'm the glue."
"That must be why she used our name. If she sees you as some sort of guidance, then she felt you needed to be kept in the loop, which is why she used your name, as some sort of alert or notification." Reid concluded, his words nearly tumbling over his lips. "She must have known that at some point, the Unsub would contact us and that he would do so through you because you're the communication liaison."
"Wait a minute." Rossi pulled everyone to a halt. "The Unsub knows Abby better than we originally thought. He knows of her riddles linking to Greek mythology." When she was met with confused looks, she explained. "He struck in Athens. That's pretty far out of his comfort zone. He's using Abby's game against her."
"He's leading her right into a trap." Hotch summed, fear this time creeping all the way up to the look in his eyes as his usual stern mien broke into pieces.
Rossi sighed and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. As he organised his thoughts, he began to speak. "We're dealing with a white male in his 40s, physically strong, religious, narcissistic tendencies and extremely calculated. He won't make a move if every possible outcome hasn't been considered and evaluated. He has possible law enforcement experiences, or at least knowledge of how we work, due to a lack of physical evidence at all the crime scenes. He's goal orientated, he's been waiting for twelve years, taking pleasure from the simple thought that his surviving victims were still out there, constantly thinking about him. Dominant, sadistic."
"He's highly organised and structured. He's been stalking an FBI agent for at least four years and killed three FBI agents on top of his previous victims." Reid continued. Rossi's eyes popped open again. "He has to have a relatively high IQ and with his strong urge to plan and organise, he most likely suffers from an anti-personality disorder or grew up with a family member with the same illness. He's a controlling, manipulative perfectionist with religious aspects. He thinks God is on his side."
"Don't forget the massive focus on his previous victims." JJ commented.
"Wait a minute." Morgan said suddenly. He had his eyes fixed on the evidence boards and they darted from one timeline to the other, from one photo to the next. He lifted his finger at nothing in particular and rose from his chair. "He's not focussed on his previous victims as much as he is focussed, obsessed with 'his Sunday'." Rossi sighed again and already opened his mouth, but Morgan cut him off. "Humour me, Rossi. We've been so focussed ourselves on finding the Christian Killer that we forgot to look at the whole picture."
"Which is?" JJ asked.
"She was right all along. She was right on his track." He mumbled. "Abby's investigation into the Christian Killer. We all thought it didn't take her anywhere because she failed to look at context, surroundings, concepts, sublevel psychology, she almost denied the entire presence of an Unsub in the first place. Instead, Abby was looking at his victims. I thought that she blindly focused on one thing, but that's all he's focussed on too. He created the perfect victim, which means that his victims are most important, that's what he is all about, nothing else. Abby focussed on his victims as well, and she found something. She was right all along. She found something that was important enough for her to break every rule and procedure there is, hid his survivors and went off the grid. But she only kept in touch with Evelyn Parker. Parker, she got special treatment."
"So what's so special about Evelyn Parker?" Prentiss questioned.
Hotch raised his hand sharply to ask for silence as he followed Morgan with his eyes. He was on to something and he didn't need any interruptions.
"It's not about Evelyn Parker. Abby, Abby focussed on her, but he," Morgan pointed at the phone, "the Christian Killer is only concerned with his 'Sunday'. Saturday was close, but he wanted Sunday. He gave up Evelyn Parker." Morgan paused as he looked at Hotch. "It's about Zoe Price. It makes perfect sense because she was the last one. She was his perfect victim. So what was so special about her?"
"Zoe and Evelyn were best friends." McCallister suddenly remembered.
"Okay. What else?" Rossi pressed, asked them to think harder and looked at Hotch.
Hotch blinked and was instantly confronted with the image of Zoe Price. He swallowed. And then he felt the itch, that voice deep down in his chest that had been screaming at him for months, yet he couldn't hear a single word. His heart started to beat faster, his hands became sweaty.
Yeah, Hotch. What was so special about Zoe Price?
"Zoe Price." His voice echoed in his head, sounds muted and his vision became a blur. In full automatic, he went down the list, the image of the young Zoe Price the only clear thing he could see. "She fit his preferences perfectly. 15 year old female, blonde hair, alive, joyfully rebellious, headstrong. She pretty much injected herself into the investigation. After the disappearance of her friend, Evelyn, she would come to the station every day to check up on us and made sure not a minute was wasted. We met her after she had been escorted out of the police station and jumped in front of our car. She had been rising hell and screaming murder at the station because she was denied any answers to her questions. She disappeared three weeks after we found her friend." Hotch smiled at the memories, but his smile quickly faltered. "She expressed her concerns towards me. She was a smart girl and she knew she was his type. She also knew that if Evelyn Parker was taken, she could be next; fitting his MO, right in the middle of his new hunting grounds. We never found any clues as on where Zoe could have been kept."
"What else do you remember?" Morgan asked him. "Your memories of her could lead us to the Christian Killer. If she saw you regularly before she disappeared, it's even possible you saw the Unsub before she was taken."
He shook his head. Zoe Price had nestled herself comfortably in his chest shortly after meeting her and the fact that she too had fallen victim at the hands of the Christian Killer and the fact that he never found her, always felt like an open wound to Hotch. "She was a bright girl, high IQ. Stubborn as hell though." Bringing back the memories, Hotch suddenly remembered something important. "Zoe and Evelyn both weren't born in Atlanta. They moved to Atlanta when they were twelve. They stuck out. Zoe was adopted." His voice slowly died.
Hotch raised his brows momentarily, his eyes widened. Shock overcame him like the ocean could take a hold of a person on a cold and lonely December morning. "They were both from Peachtree city."
"Peachtree city isn't far from here." McCallister commented softly.
"She's a peach." Hotch whispered.
And then someone stabbed a knife right into his flesh. His heart stopped. His skin grew cold. His mind stopped working and got stuck on reply as he played the image in his head over and over again. He could feel his breath caught in his throat. He looked up slowly, not even hearing Rossi's calls to him. As if in slow motion, his eyes wandered up and over McCallister's body until they met the expression that told him all.
"She wanted to study Greek mythology and become a professor." He whispered. "You…"
Confused and wide eyes shifted between Hotch and McCallister. Feeling the electric tension between Hotch and McCallister, both Prentiss as Morgan lowered their hands until they rested on their holstered guns. Garcia noticed their movement and unknowingly leant back. Reid's expression was most confused, as he tried to do the math in his head. Rossi shifted his weigh to the back of his feet, ready to jump out of the line of fire when Prentiss on his right would pull her gun.
All the while Hotch could feel the tears burning and he couldn't understand why he had missed it.
"Neither dead nor alive, the hostage is suspended by an incalculable outcome. It is not his destiny that awaits for him, nor his own death, but anonymous chance, which can only seem to him something absolutely arbitrary. He is in a state of radical emergency, of virtual extermination."
Jean Baudrillard.
