ABLOCATE ▇▇▇▇ VOLUME ONE
━━ ❛ 𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒚 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍 ❜
chapter no. 005!
❝ THEY'RE WATCHING HER. ❞
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𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩
ONE OF THE MOST OVERWHELMING THINGS ABOUT THE OCEAN IS HOW DEEP IT TRULY IS. The absolute deepest point of any ocean is called the Challenger Deep in the Mariana Trench. It's eleven thousand miles below sea level, which means that if one were to put Mt. Everest at the depth of the Challenger Deep, one would still have to swim at least a mile to get back to the surface of the world.
So, when Spencer looked into her eyes, he couldn't help but feel as if he were trying to peer into the Challenger Deep; looking for anything that he could grasp onto. The deep blue of an ocean that stared back at him appeared almost dreamlike. It was as if the shade of blue was too beautiful to be real.
Blinking at the sound of her voice, the brown-haired man furrowed his brows. "How do you know my name? There is no paperwork, digital trail, or record of my existence. Cara Valentine doesn't exist. So, how do you know who I am?" Her question was one he wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer and he felt his jaw slacken. That was all Cara needed. That one, tiny, change in his expression was enough.
"What'd they get in exchange for selling you my name?" she asked simply, yet sharply; a sense of authority was laced in her tone and Spencer flinched, his eyes widening.
"I don't—"
"What did they get in exchange?" Cara had changed, once again. Her tone and demeanor had morphed into one that slightly startled Spencer. She was able to figure out how they found out her name in under ten seconds; there was no telling what she could or couldn't figure out.
"Ten years off their sentence," he answered quietly. "After the Abbotsford attack, there were rumors circulating that a kid was a part of the Red Scorpions and involved in their activities. The FBI went to the prison where the original founding members of the Red Scorpions were locked up for the Surrey Six killings. It took a lot of time, but the FBI finally made a deal with one of the prisoners. In exchange for the kid's name, they would have ten years taken off of their sentence."
Narrowing her eyes, she held her breath, momentarily. "Who was it that gave you my name?" Cara questioned with a hushed, but dark voice that caused goosebumps to spread across his arms.
"I can't tell you that," Spencer said, shaking his head, and a small smirk grew on her face.
"You just did."
His eyebrows furrowed together and he clenched his jaw, something he only did when he was deep in thought or extremely anxious. How did she already know who it was? She had to be bluffing, right?
"So, instead of life in prison with an additional twenty years, he now has life with an additional ten years. That doesn't sound like much of a deal to me." Cara commented, shrugging all the while, keeping the same emotionless expression. Spencer cocked his head to the right slightly, studying her to see if there were any tells; some sort of sign that she was lying. After a moment of nothing to show that she was being dishonest, he decided to ask the number one question on his mind.
"Who's your father? Earlier you said "Just because you caught his daughter doesn't mean you will catch the truth," you were talking about yourself, weren't you?" It was then that Cara responded with a silence that was deafening. It caused the brown-haired man to feel uneasy yet remain curious. Everything about her was intriguing to him. He wanted to know why she chose silence over truth; why she chose resilience over vulnerability.
Then, the feeling of eyes on them came back. She was frozen in her seat and Spencer watched as the hair on her arms rose all at once. Moving his eyes, they met hers and he could see the fear and extreme sadness wallowing in secrecy behind dark blue waves. The woman was head-over-heels engrossed with fright; her pupils were wide and her face was significantly paler than it had been seconds ago. She was lost and he could see a small cry for help in the deep abyss of her gaze.
She was asking him to help her.
Her ocean eyes hesitantly glanced up at the clock and Spencer quickly looked at his watch. It was five pm. What was so important about five o'clock? How was it connected to Paradise Lost and the Red Scorpions? Was it even connected?
"Cara?" he questioned. He wanted her to know that he knew that they were watching and he had a plan, but it turned out she did too.
A sweet and elated, sickly grin spread across her face as she looked back down at him. "Tell Penelope Garcia that she may be quick at her job, but the Red Scorpions are quicker." Spencer's eyes widened extensively and his head snapped around as he looked into the mirror, even though the only person to stare back at him was himself.
"Reid. Out now." Hotch ordered sharply once he had barged into the room.
The brown-haired man knew it was best to listen to him and grabbed his things, rushing out the door and shutting it behind him. "Someone needs to call Garcia," Spencer breathed with wide eyes, glancing over at the other members of the team.
Morgan shook his head, "Already did Pretty Boy. Her system was hacked. Everything's been erased."
"The only thing left in the system was a file labeled FIVE," JJ added, nodding as she spoke.
"What's in the file?" Spencer asked, remembering back to when Cara had looked up at the clock moments ago.
Blake stepped forward. "A letter from the Red Scorpions. It was addressed to us and Cara," she spoke, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
While the others were conversing, Rossi was noticeably silent, watching as Cara ignored all of Hotch's questions; her posture was straight and her focus was back on the chair in front of her. "This was planned," he spoke up, his eyes never straying from the blonde.
"Her arrest?" Blake clarified, joining Rossi.
He nodded. "All of it. The rumors that were spread about a kid being involved in the gang, how we were able to bribe a prisoner to give us her name, her arrest, and what she says when she speaks. Watch her movements. What she says. She was trained for this. She hasn't given us any answers; the only ones we have are from when Reid was questioning her and they aren't much to go on. She knows what she's doing. There's a bigger plan going on that we don't know about." The others took in his words as they all watched her remain in her seat, not blinking once.
"Am I the only one who's noticed that she barely blinks?" JJ asked; an edge laced within her tone.
Morgan raised a brow. "Now, that you mention it, she only blinked a few times when Rossi and I were interrogating her." There was an uneasy silence between the five agents as they watched the two.
"We need to help her," Spencer whispered and every pair of eyes flashed over to him. "After I asked about her father, she froze. I saw the hair rise on her arms. For one second, she let me, whether or not she knew it, see what she was feeling. She let me in and I saw nothing, but pure fear in her eyes. I believe the cameras in the room are back on. I could feel someone, other than you guys, watching us. They're watching her."
Frowning slightly, JJ tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she watched the blonde inquisitively. Cara Valentine was the most intriguing, complex, UnSub she'd ever come across. "We need to move her to a different room. One where there aren't any cameras nearby so we can talk to her. It might make her feel safer and finally talk." JJ proposed, and Rossi nodded his head in agreement before walking out of the room to go get two police officers to escort Cara to a different room.
"Reid, how were you able to get her to answer some of your questions?" Morgan questioned as he looked over at the smartest person he knew.
The brown-haired man shrugged, "I'm less intimidating than you and Rossi are. That could be it, but I honestly have no idea." After hearing Spencer's response, Morgan eyed the boy wonder suspiciously. There was something else going on.
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𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗔'𝗦 𝗣𝗢𝗩
THE DOOR TO THE INTERROGATION ROOM OPENED AND THE MAN WITH DARK-BROWN HAIR TURNED HIS HEAD, FURROWING HIS BROWS IN SLIGHT CONFUSION. Two cops walked in and I watched them steadily, noticing every inhale and exhale that passed through their bodies. Coming to a stop, one of the officers grabbed the handcuffs from off the table and I rolled my eyes, sticking out my arms and before I knew it, the silver clasps of hell were locked back on. The other officer dragged me up and out of the room while nobody said a word. It was silent and I despised it. I wasn't aware of what was going on. I didn't like not knowing.
Keeping my eyes forward, I stealthily checked for any cameras, but there weren't any. They couldn't see me.
Coming to a stop, the officer in front of me opened a door to reveal another eight-by-ten grey room. However, there wasn't any furniture. It was simply blank. A hand was placed against my back and the officer shoved me into the room. I stumbled clumsily before regaining my balance and spinning around. Holding up my middle finger in the air, I glowered at the two officers as one of them shot me a sarcastic smile before slamming the door shut.
Sighing, I looked around the small room. There wasn't a clock in the room, so I wouldn't be able to check the time. There were also no windows or two-way mirrors. I was truly isolated.
In pure boredom, I kicked the wall left of me with my black stiletto and held back a groan. At least I was finally out of that uncomfortable chair.
My time spent alone in the room only lasted for one minute and eight seconds before the door was opened back up. Looking up my from fixated stare at the carpeted floor, I was greeted with the sight of Dr. Reid, Morgan, Rossi, the man with dark-brown hair, a beautiful blonde whose shade of hair was slightly darker than mine, and a brown-haired woman that mildly reminded me of a sweet mother. This was the entire Behavioral Analysis Unit team.
"We know that you're being monitored, so we moved you here. To talk." The beautiful blonde spoke, and a sense of authority and confidence radiated off of her that I immediately respected. Not everyone carried themselves well, but she certainly did.
Keeping my mouth shut, I reached up with two hands to brush my hair out of my face. As I did so, Dr. Reid grimaced at the sight of the handcuffs wrapped around my wrists. "I promise you that there is no possible way for them to be listening in. You're safe," he said, watching as I glanced over the room silently.
"It's cute," I chuckled humorously, shaking my head. "You thinking armed officers and federal agents are enough to keep me safe."
The man with dark-brown hair, who I assumed was the Unit Chief of the BAU, narrowed his eyes. "As long as you remain in our custody, you are," he responded, tilting his chin slightly.
Moving my gaze over to him, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "You can't keep me forever, Steve Burns. As soon as I leave this building, I'm as good as dead." I snapped, and he frowned slightly.
"Why are you "as good as dead"? You haven't been cooperating nor given us any viable information," the brown-haired woman spoke up, and I glanced over at her, narrowing my eyes. Could I trust these people? Should I? I was already marked for death. I had nothing to lose but my father, even though I had technically already lost him. I could bargain with them... If I told them enough, my father could possibly be protected.
By opening my mouth and taunting the FBI with the phrase about my only parental figure, I'd said enough. I'd practically signed my own death warrant the moment the first word left my tongue.
Shifting all of my weight over to the left side of my body, I pressed my lips together before speaking. "If I were to talk, could you do something in exchange? For me?" I asked, keeping my tone and body language neutral and unreadable.
Everyone looked at one another, silently communicating. "Depends," the Unit Chief finally spoke, eyeing me apprehensively.
"I need you to keep my father safe."
"And who would—"
"Person X." The room was silent and every agent was speechless; they hadn't seen that one coming. "One sentence is enough to be marked as the next to go. They have a good enough reason to execute me. If they're aware of anything—that I let a single word slip—my father will be the next on their list. I am well aware of my father's involvement with the Red Scorpions, and who he is, and what he's done, but he resides in the same prison as the other Founding Fathers. Given the word, they will kill him." I held my head high and kept myself as stoic and stone-cold as possible.
"Founding Fathers?" Morgan questioned, and the blonde woman stepped forward.
I merely glanced at the two of them. "Michael Le, Matthew Johnston, Konaam Shirzad, Person X, and Person Y. You're all working this case, am I right?" I asked, raising a brow. Dr. Reid nodded. "Then, you should already know who the makers are."
Both Rossi and the Unit Chief glanced at one another and I bit back a chuckle. "We'll keep your father safe. You have my word," the dark-brown-haired man promised, and I locked eyes with him for the first time.
"Good," I replied simply, before sighing quietly. Time to talk. "I recognized the photographs Agent Morgan displayed because the Red Scorpions have an ally, who's a CSI of Vancouver PD. He sent us a copy of the photos. In terms of the one who gave you my name, I am aware that it was Person Y. So, to even out the playing field since that's only fair, I'll sell you his: Hennessy Lu. My father is the one responsible for Le, Johnston, and Lu being arrested and placed in prison; he included. If my father hadn't betrayed Lu or the others, Lu would have disappeared, but he didn't. For that, he hates my family. Before you ask again, I said I was "as good as dead" because I wasn't supposed to mention my father; it wasn't part of the script. Furthermore, when the cameras came back on, it was right as I was answering Dr. Reid's questions. They know I talked, to some extent." I explained before anyone could open their mouth, and I watched as they all took in the newfound information.
Morgan cleared his throat. "How old were you when you joined the Red Scorpions? Or did you even have to join, considering your father is one of the Founding Fathers?" he asked, and Dr. Reid looked at my unchanged figure.
"I was twelve. Since I was the youngest person to have ever joined, and my father is a Founding Father, I only had to do two things to prove my loyalty. I had to cut my hand open," I waved my left hand, displaying the long and deep scar that ran steadily across my palm, "and smear my blood on the tapestry of Du Sang. Lastly, I had to get a tattoo of the letters RS on my upper forearm."
"Why so young?" the blonde asked, a hint of concern attaching itself to her words.
I met her eyes. "Little girls walking up to men and women they didn't know, and delivering drugs by pretending to sell Girl Scout Cookies was a lot less suspicious than adults meeting in secret at night with the risk of exposure. No one would suspect a kid." Her face faltered and she looked bothered; the corners of her lips were pointing down as she glanced away.
"Did you willingly join or did your father make you?" the brown-haired woman asked next, and I pressed my lips together.
"My father never wanted me anywhere near his work or business, regardless of how dedicated he was to the group, he didn't want me caught up in it. And neither did I, but when Michael Le and I met for the first time, he got attached. He wanted me to work for him and when Le wants something, he gets it." The image of a pair of green eyes, filled with greed so hungry that it could only be satisfied by the body of a little girl doing what he ordered, burned the corners of my mind.
Rossi took a step forward and crossed his arms as he stared me down. "Was all of this planned?" he asked, and I watched him carefully. His demeanor was calm and friendly, but I couldn't help but eye him suspiciously.
"Which part?" I asked; my face still wiped of any emotion.
"All of it. The rumors that were spread about a kid being involved in the Red Scorpions, how we were able to bribe Hennessy Lu to give us your name, and your arrest. Was all of it planned?" he repeated, and I shifted uncomfortably.
Narrowing my eyes, I held back my sighs of irritability as there was a small war waging in my head. How much damage could the truth do? I knew what the answer to the question was, but I didn't want to answer it truthfully. The more I blabbed, the bigger the target on my back got. Do it for dad. "Yes. It was all planned." My voice was quieter than it'd ever been, and Rossi frowned deeply at the sound of it. "I didn't know that your team knew my name, but knowing how they do things, I'm assuming that portion was set up too."
"Was what you said about Garcia planned too?" Morgan asked, his jaw clenching slightly. He was angry.
I nodded again, "Yes. Everything has been scripted. That was the last step of the plan, and now, I'm done."
"The last step?" the Unit Chief asked, furrowing his brows together into a jagged line.
I nodded, growing tired of the consistent shake of the head I kept repeating. "The overall mission was planned over the span of a year—before the Abbotsford Auto-Mall attack. It was divided into different "plans," so to speak, and each had its own steps. Every plan had different members involved, so, no one was ever working on more than one, except for three people. The current leaders of the Red Scorpions. They were the only ones who knew every detail of every plan. For mine, a rumor was going to be leaked about a kid being a part of the group and involved with several murders and drug trafficking after the Abbotsford attack. The Red Scorpions coordinated everything and Campbell took one for the team. After the rumor was leaked, we knew that the authorities would get involved and bring in federal agents to help track down this kid.
"We knew that the feds would go back to the Founding Fathers and ask if they knew anything about these rumors. So, we got Johnston to confirm the kids' existence and tell the feds about a location he knew of where this kid could be—the abandoned apartment complex where I was waiting to be arrested. After I was brought in, I was not to speak to anyone until the cameras were shut off. My partners predicted that one of you would tell Garcia to shut the cameras off in fear that people were watching, which they were. While the camera was off, I was to taunt, mock, and distract you. I've been trained in how to get out of an interrogation, how to lie my way out of one, and deceive whoever was in the room with me. I've done it multiple times before.
"However, the line I recited from Paradise Lost, and when I looked at the clock wasn't planned. I knew that one of you would be smart enough to recognize it; figure out what the time meant and how it was connected to the Red Scorpions. So, when you—" I pointed at the brown-haired woman, "—said that I hadn't given you any viable information, that wasn't necessarily true, but it was also my way of distracting you all until five o'clock. Once it hit five, my portion of the mission was completed and done. I don't know anything about anyone else's plans, they were kept hidden."
Raising a brow, the blonde agent stepped forward. "Why five o'clock?" she asked, and I glanced at her.
"By five o'clock, they would be across the border and in America."