The Intelligence Control and Analysis Program

Chapter 11

There were several murmurs, hums, and contemplative expressions around the circle. Finally, Emily spoke up, pointing to Rossi but looking at Hotch.

"That might actually work."

Hotch still seemed hesitant. "My only concern would be Garcia. If we don't already have full custody when we tell them, they could take her back. I don't want to risk that."

"I do." Garcia blurted the words out immediately, scooting to the edge of the sofa with an excited light in her eyes. "It's worth it to me. If they take me back, okay, but there's no way they'll kill me when they know what you're up to. I can survive more time behind bars if that's what it takes." She spoke faster with every sentence, almost desperate. "Honestly, it might give me an opportunity to escape during transfer and start hacking on my own terms. It definitely can't be traced back to you then."

Hotch looked at her for a long moment, and then he let out a sigh. "Well, it isn't as if we're finalizing any decisions tonight... so, for now, we can call this our plan."

Garcia sighed in relief, smiling despite the clear fatigue on her features.

We're all tired. We need to get some sleep before we try tackling much more of this. Rossi looked admittedly forlorn, his gaze lingering on his empty coffee cup. There comes a point when you can't just caffeine your way through any more consciousness.

"Spencer, you've been quiet." JJ looked concerned, her brow slightly furrowed. "Is there something else?"

Spencer fidgeted in place, twisting his lips around, eyes focused intently on the floor. "I... I really just want to go to bed." He took a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak, and then started over with another inhale. "ICAP runs tests on geniuses. There are a lot of different things they... do... to us... and it's possible the increase in deaths is because they're taking more risks in the laboratory."

Rossi blinked a few times, muttering under his breath. Just when I thought this case was all out of shock factor, we throw human experimentation into the mix. He rubbed his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a heavy sigh. "Hotch," he started. "You call it."

Hotch immediately understood, and he nodded in agreement. "I think it's time for everyone to get some sleep. We can continue this discussion in the morning."

Rossi sent up a silent hallelujah, but as tired as he was, he still got to his feet to see everyone to the front door. After all, no matter the circumstances, including a middle-of-the-night meeting about corrupt, government conspiracies, Rossi was an entertainer.

Yeah, he decided. It's probably the Italian blood.

***

Morgan ran his hand along the doorframe and let out a sigh, keeping it as restrained as he could. He was glad Hotch was the one doing the talking, because he wasn't entirely sure he could make it through an entire conversation with Section Chief Jason Bale without committing murder, but being the one to go through Spencer's room was... daunting, to say the least.

He's not here anymore. It doesn't matter.

Morgan took a quick breath and punched in the code he'd been given, waiting for the steel bars to slide up. He watched the simple room slowly enter his field of vision, no longer obstructed by the gate—tan walls, one bed with tan sheets, one tan pillow, a tan dresser possessing all of two drawers, and a prison-esque, stainless steel toilet—and then he stepped in. He walked over to the bed and lifted the pillow, finding Spencer's book exactly where he was told it would be.

Spencer doesn't have anything else. But that didn't kill the curiosity welling up, and Morgan approached the nearby dresser, pulling out the bottom drawer and finding three sets of gray scrubs just like the ones Spencer had been wearing when he first arrived.