Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds as can be evidenced by my writing of fanfiction instead of canon episodes.

A/N: After finishing "Skeletons," I felt like a break from writing would be nice and therefore began another story. Wait… That doesn't make sense… Oh well.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the beginning of "Subterfuge".

…

"Anyone know when JJ'll be back?"

The team minus Hotch and JJ had gathered in the round table room and were awaiting a briefing.

"Nope," Prentiss said, answering Garcia's question. "But she did say her business trip was supposed to be no more than a week."

"Actually, JJ's exact words were –"

"She'll be back when she's back," Hotch interrupted Reid as he entered the room. "We have other things to focus on."

He placed a stack of files at the center of the table, and immediately each person grabbed one.

"Jordan Todd called. We have a potential terrorist situation on our hands. Our Counterterrorism Division intercepted a message that they'd like us to look over. We don't know the timeline on this, so we're treating it as urgent. Prentiss and Reid, start with the message's translation and word analysis. Dave and Morgan, I'd like you to meet up with Todd to discuss details regarding how they intercepted the message, backgrounds on any potential suspects they might have, etc. Garcia, start checking the information we already have. I'd like to see where that leads us. I'll be coordinating our efforts with those of Counterterrorism.

"Let's get to work."

…

"Ugghh," Morgan groaned, rising from his chair to stretch and walk around. "We've been at this for hours, and what do we have? Nothing."

"We don't have nothing," Reid said, not bothering to look up from the transcript he was re-reading.

"Reid's right," Emily agreed. "We just don't have that much."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "All right, let's start at the beginning. Again."

Reid was about to speak when Hotch and Rossi entered the round table room.

"I just briefed Counterterrorism. They've decided to give us complete jurisdiction of this case to make things a bit easier," Hotch said.

"So what do we have?" Rossi asked.

The younger three exchanged glances.

"Umm…" Prentiss said hesitantly. "Not much still."

Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid updated Hotch and Rossi with what little they had come up with. Together, the five worked together to put more of the puzzle together.

Finally, they made a breakthrough.

Morgan dialed Garcia on speakerphone. "Hey Baby Girl, I need you to run an address for me: 5511 Dana St. of Lorton, Virginia."

Garcia began typing away and came up with, "The warehouse of the Weston Art Gallery."

"An art gallery?" Morgan queried dubiously. "Do we think terrorists are suddenly more offended by paint on canvas than citizens living out our evil, American ways?"

"It's not uncommon for art auctions to be used to launder large amounts of money or transfer intelligence," Prentiss said. "It's possible that the warehouse is not a target, but rather some sort of meeting place or pick-up location."

"Garcia, what do we know about the Weston Art Gallery?" Hotch asked.

"Well," Garcia's voice came through the speakerphone. "It's not squeaky clean, but that has nothing to do with its financials. They had a personnel problem but not of the terrorist variety. Think more along the lines of hanky panky."

"Keep digging around, Garcia, and let us know what you find," Hotch instructed.

"Will do, my fluffy, cotton-tailed bunnies. Garcia out."

The profilers exchanged amused glances.

"Any ideas on when this – whatever this is – is supposed to go down?" Rossi asked.

Reid began to scribble furiously on the whiteboard. The team watched silently and let him do his thing. He paused, erased, wrote, paused again. As he finished, he gestured at it. "8 PM today according to this."

Hotch looked at his watch and was startled to see that it was already 7:23 PM. Time had certainly flown by. "That's in 37 minutes. Let's get moving. I'll call SWAT."

They sped to the warehouse, turning off their sirens when they were several blocks away.

As they arrived at the warehouse, Hotch promptly exited the SUV and directed, "Dave, Morgan, and Reid, take a team and circle around back. The rest of us will cover the front entrance. On my signal, we'll enter simultaneously."

Morgan nodded and led the other to the back entrance. Once there, he said, "In position."

Hotch began the countdown. "3… 2… 1… Go!"

They entered quickly and methodically swept through the warehouse.

"What the…?" Morgan said as they encountered a singular dead body.

He heard Reid's voice to his left. "There are more bodies over here. I think they're the terrorists."

Rossi got hold of Hotch over the comms. "Hotch, we've got what look to be dead terrorists back here."

"Any sign as to who killed them?"

Rossi looked to Reid, Morgan, and the SWAT officers accompanying them, who all shook their heads, before replying, "Negative."

"All right. Keep an eye out. We'll do the same."

Unbeknownst to the BAU and SWAT teams, someone a few aisles down stilled and signed, "That's the BAU."

"What are they doing here?" a second person asked, also signed.

The first person responded, "I don't know, but we need to get out of here."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Let's rejoin the others first."

They quietly snuck around the aisles to do just that.

As they approached the others, the second person was about to warn them when one of the others held up a hand to silence them. He listened carefully then didn't even bother to whisper. "We've got company."

"Yes, you do," Rossi said, as the unsubs were surrounded.

There was a total of five of them, each with a mask and a raised gun. They said nothing but merely held their position and waited.

Hotch took control of the situation. "Lower your weapons."

"And then what? We come quietly?" the unsub who previously spoke asked sarcastically.

"If you want to get out of here alive," Hotch said, readying himself to shoot. If these unsubs were anything like the terrorists they killed, they would rather go down shooting than surrender.

"Well I don't intend on dying or getting arrested, so what do you propose?"

"It doesn't matter. We're wasting time," a female voice with a British accent rang out. "We need to go."

"Ella tiene razón. Tenemos que salir," a deep voice said.

"Agreed," another male voice said, this one with a Russian accent.

The remaining man said nothing but nodded.

"Well, Agent Hotchner. It seems my team is in agreement, so we're going to head out. Sorry about that."

Hotch tried to reason with them. "You're outnumbered, and we have you covered from both sides."

The unsubs didn't seem too concerned. "So it would seem."

The unsubs began to move away from each other.

"Don't move!" Morgan, Prentiss, and a few of the SWAT officers yelled.

The next thing they knew, they were all waking up on the warehouse floor, and the masked group of five was nowhere to be seen.

…

As the unsubs reached their vehicle – a very domestic-looking blue van, they made sure they weren't followed and began stripping themselves of their gear.

"How'd this happen?" their leader asked, ripping his mask off. He was a hardened-looking white man in his late 50s.

"It shouldn't have. I checked all the intel." The petite woman took off her mask as well, revealing gorgeous blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes. She spoke in a perfect American accent. "We should've been all clear tonight."

They stowed their gear away into a hidden floor compartment. If anyone came across the group and their van, they would appear to be a group of colleagues or friends who just enjoyed a late night out.

"We missed something," the driver – a very well built Asian man – said and started the van's engine.

As they began to drive away, the youngest, who enjoyed adrenaline rushes a little too much, said, "Yes well, you can't deny it made things more exciting."

Their leader glared at him and growled, "It's not supposed to be exciting."

"That was clever, the accent," their final member said to the blonde. He was a tall, middle-aged black man with a sweet smile.

"I'm just glad you picked up on it so quickly," she replied gratefully.

He grinned at her. "I'm just glad I remembered my high school Spanish."

The youngest leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms behind his head. He resumed his Russian accent. "And now, they'll be running down a false lead."

"Niiiiice," drawled the driver as he casually tapped the steering wheel.

The rest of the drive was filled with light banter.

"All right, guys," the petite blonde said as they reached their destination. "I gotta go brief the powers that be. They're going to be wondering how we got into this mess."

"Will we see you afterwards?" their leader asked.

The woman shook her head. "No, I think it's time I head back to the BAU."

And with that, Jennifer Jareau waved the group good-bye.

…

Translation:

Ella tiene razón. Tenemos que salir. = She's right. We have to leave.

A/N: You can assume that most locations I mention in this story will have been made up.