24: Mustering the TROOPS

(First off, let me just explain that I do introduce quite a few more characters as auxiliary in this chapter, and they are from my own fiction novels-in-progress, as is the Club SIX mentioned. Sebastian Lorcan, Malachi Brockman, and Michael "Hell" Hellbrook are all the heroes of the romantic suspense trilogy I am writing…for more of Hell and Sebastian visit my homepage through the link on my profile….and as always let me know what you think….)

MARCH 13 2008: HIGH NOON

Emily was through running—Hotch could see that in her eyes, her stance. Her walk as she entered the bullpen at his side. She'd checked herself out of the hospital—AMA—against medical advice, and no amount of him arguing had changed her mind. He'd done everything but play the superior card, and he'd vowed to himself he'd not do that to her. This was her life, and she had a right to take a hand against this bastard. To fight back.

How much she was capable of actually astounded him, and the rest of the team, in the next hour.

Her friends had been waiting in the bullpen, four beautiful brunettes filled with determination and righteous anger. Hotch had actually felt apprehensive being in their midst.

"Emily. Good, you are here." The New York agent said. "I've called my chief, he's insisted on bringing the rest of the team to offer any assistance."

"Thanks Elena." Emily said, grimly. "All the help we can get is appreciated."

"Glad you feel that way." The one with the lightest hair said. Her rings of curls were very attractive, Hotch couldn't help but think. In fact, they were all exceptionally beautiful women. He looked at the other males in the bullpen—Morgan and Reid included—and knew that observation wasn't his alone. They were the center of attention. They didn't seem aware of it, so focused as they were. The honey-brunette continued, and Hotch tuned back in. "Because I've called my brother. He and Lorcan will be here shortly."

"And what can your brother do?" Rossi asked the question that immediately hit Hotch's mind.

"Malachi's a part of this. More, he's a deputy director of the CIA. His friend Lorcan, well, no one's really sure what agency he's a part of. But they were both there that night." Agent Brockman said.

Wow. Hotch thought. He hadn't known Emily's connections extended quite that far. And they just kept branching as a beautiful redhead walked in followed by three men, a woman who looked like she'd fit in real well with Garcia, and another brown-eyed brunette. She walked straight to Emily and embraced. "Emily. I got your message and came as soon as I could."

The older man behind her took his turn hugging Emily before speaking. His manner shouted clearly that he was ex-military. "What's this about Kate?"

"Gibbs, its good to see you again." Emily said, not answering just yet. "We'll get into that in a bit. Ziva, how have you been?"

"Good. Emily, what is this about some bastard wanting to kill you? I thought we left them behind in Europe years ago." The younger brunette said, her accent standing out against Emily's modulated upper-class prep school tones. The Gothic woman went straight to Garcia and threw her arms around her, not surprising Hotch in the least.

"Let's just call it unfinished business." Emily sighed. "But I'm glad you're here. This man's after those he blames for Kate's death, especially me, but you all could also be potential targets. Especially you, Zi, this guy likes brown-eyed brunettes—especially with any connection to Kate."

"Great. So how do we find and stop him?" Ziva asked.

"First, how about an explanation, Agent Prentiss? Kate has been dead for two years. Why now?" Gibbs demanded. Hotch didn't like the way the man held Emily's elbow in his grasp, or the way she'd yet to pull away.

"We don't know, Gibbs." Emily said, and Hotch was proud of the un-cowed tone. "We're waiting on a few friends of mine from the CIA before we explain everything in detail. They shouldn't be too much longer."

"Just tell me this, you're ok? I don't need to go bust a few heads?"

"Just one head." Emily smiled then, and the older man smiled back. Hotch didn't miss the surprise written on the man's colleagues' faces. "And I'm going to take care of the busting of his head myself."

EMILYKICKSASSEMILYKICKSASSEMILYKICKSASS

The New York team from Missing Persons arrived, followed quickly by two men that actually managed to frighten Hotch. Malachi Brockman shared his sister's honey brown hair and brown eyes—and an obvious previous history with Emily. Hotch hated him on sight. Sebastian Lorcan—Hotch couldn't get a handle on that man at all. He was equally as tall as Hotch, hair equally as dark. But his eyes were green. Hotch's first impression was of a jungle cat. And as the day progressed that impression just deepened. The man moved with a snake-like fluidity. And he was fiercely primitive—probably moreso than Hotch ever considered himself to be. Had Lorcan been an UNSUB, Hotch would have been highly concerned.

Instead, the man obviously adored Emily and her four friends, though he didn't think Lorcan had been romantically involved with any of them.

Hotch stood back as the strange group crowded around the conference table. Director Sheppard stayed back, letting Emily and the younger women plot and plan. Something in her manner told Hotch she wasn't well, and while she was giving the best she could, she was exhausted. He stepped closer to her. "If you need to rest, my office is free."

"I'll be fine, Agent Hotchner, but I appreciate the concern."

"How long, if you don't mind me asking?" Hotch kept his words low. She looked as his father had in the months preceding his death.

"Four, six. Not too sure." She said, eyes trained on her people. The three men—Gibbs included—stood back, mostly watching the women in awe. Emily took center stage, a large map spread before her. Garcia was on her left, laptop open and running as Emily fed her instructions. The two little ones—as Hotch was mentally referring to them—David and Thorez—crowded in on the right. Brockman, her brother, Lorcan, and Delgado were opposite, contributing quickly to the discussion. "Emily knows. But no one else."

"I understand." Hotch said. "How do you know her?"

"Years ago, Emily, Ziva, another woman, and I had an assignment that started in Egypt and ended down-town Hell. Ended up driving madly across Europe with Ziva at the wheel. We've been friends ever since." The redhead said, with a nostalgic look in her eyes. "Closest thing I have ever had to a real family."

"I understand that, too. And I thank you for helping us with this. I want this bastard, badly."

"So do we. I never met her, but Katelyn Todd was very important to my people, and to Emily. I owe it to her to find this monster." She hushed as the tall, silver-haired Gibbs approached.

"So let me get this straight, Agent Hotchner. This guy wanted Kate, but when he couldn't get her he went after the other women in the house—including Emily? And he waited two years to get revenge now? Why?" Gibbs demanded.

"Exactly. But he killed a good dozen women in between then and now. But he wrote on Prentiss' mirror that he was doing this for Kate. That has some significance. But why he chose to video-feed holding Ms. Morrell captive, I don't know."

"Sage was always with a camera. Everything the girls did was video-taped." Malachi Brockman said, as he moved close enough to catch the conversation. "Sage was always foolin' around with video. Not surprising, but there are countless tapes of everything they did back then, trips to the beach, sitting around the house, when Kate caught the kitchen on fire—it was all on tape. Even that night was on tape—but that bastard knew it. He took the tapes from four of the six cameras that had been set up. And the two left behind didn't show enough to identify him."

"Can we get those tapes?" Hotch asked. "Garcia might be able to pinpoint something that was missed eight years ago. New technology."

"I don't know if they have copies of the tapes—but I certainly kept them. I had them uploaded to a disk drive two years ago, to make storage easier." The Deputy director of the CIA said. "I've wanted to bring this bastard down for a long time, and have never been able to get enough on him."

"We'll get him this time." Hotch vowed, throwing a glance at Emily. "He's not getting near Emily again. Or her friends."

"I've got something!" Garcia suddenly crowed, bringing everyone's attention to her. "Smolte just used his credit card, at the café two blocks from here."

Morgan didn't have to be told twice. He was out the door in seconds, followed quickly by one of Delgado's co-workers, and Lorcan.

"Wow." Garcia said. "Those guys can move!"

"Have we anything else, Garcia?" Hotch asked, moving to stand directly behind Emily. He placed a warm hand on her back, thrilling when she unconsciously leaned into his hand. His admiration for the woman had continued to grow as the day progressed. She'd kept her cool, effectively leading her strange band of troops in a way reminiscent of a benevolent general. She'd never overstepped her boundaries with him, or the rest of their team—or even Strauss, who'd peaked her head in several times to investigate just why their was a Deputy Director for the CIA and a Director of NCIS in their midst. Hotch hadn't missed the way the woman's eyes had widened when she'd been effectively shut out—put on a need-to-know alert, and this was something she didn't need to know.

It was very clear to everyone observing—mainly Hotch, Rossi, Gibbs, and Delgado's supervisor Jack Malone, that all of the women in the room, except Director Sheppard who'd finally taken Hotch up on the offer of his office, looked straight to Emily for direction. Even Garcia, JJ, the other two New York women, and the Gothic evidence tech, Abby, were unconsciously following the other example and looking to Emily to lead.

And she did it well.

Soon Garcia, Abby, and the Morrell woman were pouring over the surveillance videos from that night eight years ago and from what Morrell had provided from her personal video system of the night she was taken, combined with the tapes Garcia had watched of the small room the woman had been held in—with some help from Reid and NCIS Agent Tim McGee. Hotch hoped they found something that conclusively tied Smolte to the attacks.

Morgan, and the other men returned, furious and obviously frustrated. Hotch didn't need to ask, it was obvious Smolte had been too quick for them. But the bastard was in the area, probably watching the building waiting for Emily or her friends to walk out. Waiting to nab one of them.

Hotch had had JJ prepare a press release, making it clear that Emily and her friend were perfectly safe, that they had escaped the attack by an as of yet unknown assailant. He wanted Smolte to know he hadn't succeeded. Wanted him thrown off-kilter, enraged, hoping to trigger some carelessness on his part.

"What triggered this? Why this elaborate plan?" Malone asked, breaking into the women's discussion. Hotch understood how the man felt. They were used to being in charge, planning missions, strategies, and now they were basically relegated to the background, support staff positions. Lackeys for lack of a better word. It was disconcerting, seeing how little Emily and her friends really needed them to accomplish something. After all, the woman had both the CIA and NCIS at her beck and call. Not to mention Secret Service, and ATF to draw from. And apparently, Moussad operatives weren't out of her range, as well.

Emily Prentiss was a potentially very dangerous woman, Hotch realized for the very first time. It was…exiting.

"St. Louis." Morgan suddenly said. "We were in St. Louis back in January. In the local field office, liaised with Michael Hellbrook's team, the Complex Crimes Unit. Emily—did you see him in the building?"

"No. And I was watching. That doesn't mean he wasn't there, or unaware that we were there." Emily admitted. "Garcia, can you check and see if he had any strange activity on his credit cards around that time frame?"

Everyone waited, attention focused on the colorful blond. She finally spoke. "Purchased a property in Annandale, several flights to Washington and New York since then, and one credit card receipt for a tattoo parlor in the downtown district of St. Louis."

"Mickelo's?" Elena asked.

"Yes. How did you know?" Garcia asked, looking at the Hispanic Missing Persons agent.

"Because that's where we all got our tattoos." Alex said, bluntly.

"Wait, wait!" McGee suddenly said. Everyone turned to him like puppets. "I just saw a tattoo."

He hit a few buttons and the film of Sage being dropped to the floor of the panic room became visible on the LCD. He rewound a few frames and focused before pausing. Soon a man's inner wrist became visible, including the rose and ribbon tattoo.

"A rose? Abby…what was Kate's tattoo?" NCIS Agent DiNozzo asked, looking at the Goth woman.

"It was a six-petal rose." Emily said, bluntly. Hotch didn't miss the way her hand had dropped to cover a spot on her lower abdomen. "We all got them the day we graduated from college. Inside each petal was a letter. Initial. C, E, E, A, S, J. The stem had the year interwoven through it."

"And the ribbon?" Gibbs asked. "Significance?"

"We added the ribbon and altered the original design a bit on the one year anniversary of the day we lost Kate." Sage said. "We altered it to show a petal falling off. Then had the dates of that night and the date of Kate's death written on a yellow ribbon and woven around the flower."

Hotch didn't miss the way the four women's eyes kept darting to Emily. "There's more?"

"He carved a heart around Emily's tattoo." Elena Delgado said, bluntly, not looking at her friend. "We shaped the ribbon to cover that. We don't want to remember that, you understand. He's not going to take the significance of that flower away from any of us."

They all moved unconsciously closer to flank Emily and Hotch nodded, struck again by their solidarity. The little NCIS brunette, grabbed Emily's hand and squeezed, and Emily smiled at the younger woman. Hotch estimated her to be almost a decade younger than Emily. He wondered briefly at their European meeting.

Emily had an obviously complex history and he wondered why none of it was written in her file.

Connections, probably. And he couldn't say he blamed her for pulling them that way. He'd have done the same thing if he had to.

"You have a tattoo?" Morgan asked, deliberately lightening the suddenly dark mood of the room. Emily just smiled at her partner, laughing at him silently. Hotch's own lips twitched. "Where exactly is it at?"

Emily leaned closer. "Nowhere you'll ever see it, player."

"I am completely crestfallen, you cruel, cruel woman!"

"Ok, back on track. We need to find this guy." Hotch ordered, though his word carried little weight in this apparent venture.

"So we know he has the Annandale property, but is he actually staying somewhere else?" DiNozzo asked, as he sidled up to one of the smaller ones. Agent Thorez just ignored him. "He can't be one step behind you every damn minute. So where else does he go. And why is he claiming this is for Kate? What is the significance of that?"

"Holy Shit!" Thorez suddenly said. "The clubs!"

"Clubs?" Rossi and several others echoed. "What clubs?"

"The clubs we own in New York, St. Louis, and DC." Alex Brockman said. "We are all partners in several nightclubs. We just opened the last one here in DC six months ago."

"I've been there, nice music. But I didn't realize you owned it, Emily." Morgan said, surprise on his face.

"I don't, alone, anyway. We each share a twenty percent interest." Emily admitted. "We started the first one in St. Louis six months before everything went down. Then we opened another one in New York three years ago. Sage generally controls that one. We have a manager for the St. Louis club, that I deal with on a monthly basis. And the DC club, I stop in whenever I get the chance and speak with the manager there. Sage—what do you think the clubs have to do with things?"

"He knew about the clubs. He had to have." The videographer practically vibrated, she was strung so tightly. She hadn't been still since they'd arrived and Hotch suspected that was normal for her. "And yesterday—was it yesterday—I had just left the club when he hit me."

"So it's possible he could be planning something at one of them." Emily's face was grim. "So what do we do?"

"We're going to have to bait a trap." Lorcan suggested. "Draw the damned cat out."

"Aw, but who is the cat and who is the mouse?" Emily asked.

Hotch silently echoed that question.