Chapter Text
The seatbelt sign dinged and, as if finally reaching cruising height and being able to unbuckle was an unspoken signal, the Team's eyes swung to peer interrogatively at Hotch.
Morgan, the least patient as usual asked through a half cut off yawn, "So, you gonna fill us in on what all the cloak and dagger is about? Getting hauled in for a call at 3am is bad enough. Not getting even basic details is worse, and then being ordered to surrender our phones and electronics is downright worrying. Spill it, what’s going on? "
Hotch was stone faced but he cast a subtle look to JJ who nodded and rose to lift down a steel case from an overhead locker. She placed her thumb on a discreet print scanner and tapped in a code onto a glowing number which seemed to appear on the case’s outer shell before they vanished as the locks disengaged with a mechanical whirr. JJ opened the case and retrieved six manilla folders, all boldly stamped "TOP SECRET."
Morgan's brows lifted in shock at the secure case and the "TOP SECRET" stampings.
Rossi frowned, "Please tell me the government isn't pulling us again to create a profile on an enemy sniper or terrorist in some gods’ forsaken place they are fighting a shadow war that we will never be able to talk about again. The CIA people are almost worse than the unsubs."
Emily smirked, " ‘ Again’ Rossi?"
Rossi had the grace to cringe at his unwitting slip, "No comment."
Emily’s smirk merely grew at his rare faux pas.
Hotch frowned at Rossi’s unintentional slip of implied previous top secret work. He cleared his throat, "This case comes at the direct orders of the Secretary of Defence alongside the counter signature of just about everyone above us in our chain of command, right up to but not including the President. An omission I was helpfully informed was to allow him plausible deniability."
As one the team all seemed to suppress grimaces at the idea of the politics involved and the potential for this whole thing to become something that could blow up in their faces if the President was being insulated from it.
Spencer looked curiously at the case, "Where did the case come from?" He enquired even as his hand reached for the paper files, consumed already by the mystery rather than whatever politics were at play.
JJ pulled the files out of his reach and sent him a stern look, "The case was provided with the files alongside a warning that when not in use they are to be returned to it. Before I hand these out I have to make it clear. This is a hardcopy case only. No electronics that aren’t vetted and will be provided when we land may be used. No pictures or transcribing copies. That goes double for you two Rossi and Reid, I know you prefer making your own notes but everything stays in these files this time. Moreover, Garcia is strictly out of the loop. As far as she is concerned, we are on an impromptu inter branches training retreat as a PR stunt for those in Washington. We are busy, the retreat has a no phones policy during training and you are all little miffed to be heading to New York but orders are orders."
Morgan's jaw clenched at the idea of being made to lie to his best friend and he sharply queried, "And how are we supposed to narrow down an unsub without my baby girl? The fountain of all knowledge is half of what makes our profiling possible in this day and age!"
Hotch sighed, "Part of the paperwork you will read will inform you that a…' specialis t' in our case will meet us in New York. I am assured that their tech skills would put even Garcia to shame."
Morgan sneered, "A specialist ?" He snorted, "I'll believe there is a better Queen of all things binary and beautiful than Garcia when I see it. Hell Hotch; what sort of case is this? Has the CIA had one of their own go rogue or something?"
JJ's grip on the files was so tense that her knuckles were turning white and she had to forcibly relax her grip, "Just….just read the files and then we can hash out any questions. Just remember, no electronics, no copies and if we ever speak of anything in these files to anyone not authorised then it's 30 to life, do not see a lawyer, do not pass go, do not collect $200."
Morgan held out his hand expectantly and JJ handed him a file almost reluctantly. Spencer, with almost grabby hands snapped his from JJ and dove straight in, his hair falling forward as he immediately began speed reading.
Emily and Rossi reached out to take copies of the files. Rossi, stealing a glance at the boy wonder's widening eyes, rising eyebrows and paling complexion as he sped read made a shiver of foreboding race down his spine as he reluctantly opened his own file.
Hotch and JJ sat quietly, neither needing to see the files since they were already fully briefed when they were ordered onto the case.
Spencer was finished the summary pages first of course, he looked blankly at Hotch with a half pleading, half angry expression, "This is a prank right?"
Childhood trauma no doubt playing a role in his deadened tone at the idea of his BAU family pranking him as so many others had when he was a child genius at school.
Hotch shook his head slightly, locking eyes with Spencer, "No." The one word seemed to fall with weight between them.
Spencer turned to JJ, his gaze almost pleading with the media liaison and newly minted profiler to say it wasn't so.
JJ reached out to grip his hand where it lay on the leather seat, 'It's not a joke Spence. It's as real as the portal and invasion of New York was."
The reminder of those horrifying events seemingly enough to make Spencer flinch and settle back in his seat. His eyes glancing back to the file as though suddenly cautious about flipping the pages over to read the full case reports and to look at the hard copies of crime scene photos. Spencer had never been so reluctant to open a file that he held in his hands before.
With a stealing breath he flipped the page. His eyes scanning across witness statements, flipping remarkably detailed forensic reports marked classified and then to bloody pictures to rival any of the horrors he had seen on this job to date.
For a few minutes there was nothing but the gentle hum of the jet's engines and the flipping of pages.
Morgan sat back in his chair, his mouth opening once, twice, before he seemed to regain the power of speech, "And this isn't all some elaborate hoax cause…Hotch, my man, you have been laying the groundwork for the straight man to an epic gag for years and I am ready to applaud if you say the word."
Hotch's pursed lips twitched at one side but not in any genuine humor but rather grim amusement at Morgan's attempt to distract from the file before them all. "Afraid not."
Emily pulled her hands through her hair, "We all know aliens are real after the invasion the Avengers repelled but this…this is crazy! And in New York again too! What? Does it have a magnetic draw for extraterrestrial life!?"
Rossi pulled himself forward, the file sliding into his lap as he tented his fingers and tried to refocus the team, "We have a job to do. No matter how crazy it seems. We do what we always do. We build the profile. We work the case. Hotch, give us the briefing. I am sure as riveting as this file is, there are things it is missing since it is all so cloak and dagger."
Hotch offered the barest of nods to Rossi but gratitude lay deep in his dark gaze before he withdrew back into his professional persona, "Two weeks ago Stark tech set up around New York detected a cloaked ship as it made hard entry through the atmosphere. Only for the hard entry and atmospheric distortions the ship would not have been detected at all and once in atmosphere since it became totally invisible to scans. Initially we didn’t even know about the ship because Stark wasn’t sharing his findings until almost a week later when Maria Hill of SHIELD made an official enquiry for Stark Satellite data to investigate possible alien participation in a series of murders which began the previous week.”
Morgan pointed at Hotch, “And that is the first missing link. How did SHIELD know these murders were anything related to extra terrestrials?”
Hotch’s face seemed to tighten, “As you will see in the more detailed briefing once you read the full file, the murders have a signature. A signature that has been recorded and recognised by most stable world governments with law enforcement able to keep records for any length of time. The murders presently underway in New York had hallmarks mimicking killings seen in records here dating back to the 1700s, a legend of the culling of a Native American hunting party, the deaths of numerous large game across Africa across the last two centuries, the wiping out of all but one of a covert action US military team in South America in the 1980s and a spate of serial murders in LA in the 1990s. These are the only instances of previous kills we are authorized to know about and have some redacted details of, but I am assured that there are countless others across the world. While the killers are different, it is believed that they all belong to a highly advanced species codenamed ‘Predators.’ Their real name seems to be redacted from the files. As far as anyone can tell these ‘Predator’ aliens are the big game hunters of the universe. Their society is tribal and hunting is a cornerstone of their social standing. Earth it seems is a routine hunting ground and while humans are not their sole prey here…as the apex species we seem to be the pinnacle of their hunts here.”
The team sat in shock and horror. “We’re game animals to them?” Rossi eloquently stated as he flipped a trio of pictures from his folder, all showing the headless bodies of young men, one African American, another Caucasian and the last some mix of Asian/Caucasian. “They keep trophies, not like serial killers typically do, but like big game hunters displaying heads on walls.”
JJ nodded, “As far as we can tell, of the four murders to date, three had their heads and spinal columns removed as some kind of trophy. The fourth victim is believed to have been almost an afterthought, a necessary kill to maintain secrecy while collecting their trophy on one of their other kills.”
Morgan was rapidly flipping through his file, a faint shake in his hands, “Setting aside the horrifying idea that we are prey in an intergalactic game reserve, what exactly are we expected to do here Hotch? You mentioned cloaking tech and just skimming this briefing on the alien unsub, it doesn’t seem like we have a chance of stopping this thing.” Morgan flipped the file and pointed to a column of bullet points and an annotated sketch of one of the aliens, “Enhanced strength, scanning visual technology, advanced cloaking and armor…we couldn’t see the thing so what are we meant to do even if we can track it?”
Hotch folded his arms defensively, “Our jobs. We aren’t being drafted to hunt down or arrest this thing. As you say, we are woefully inadequate for that job. Stopping it is someone else’s job. Our job is to find its likely location in the city, to profile and predict its likely next moves. It is believed that the murders it has committed to date have a pattern and we have been asked to work out its likely next hunting ground in New York.”
Spencer hummed, “If it is following some kind of ritualized hunt then it is likely we could offer some insight. Some ideas into how it is choosing its victims. It is an interesting paradox, a species obviously advanced enough to manage FTL travel and cloaking technologies hundreds, maybe thousands of years beyond earth, and yet they still seem to be in what we would consider a primitive sociological paradigm of requiring feats of strength and skill in a hunt to prove their worth and improve their standing. It has interesting parallels to the precolonial Siox whose male adolescents and young boys would be apprenticed to Uncles and Fathers to learn hunting in order to be considered a man, although-”
“-Alright Reid, we get it, fascinating alien culture, but can we stick to the problem at hand. We have to build a profile.” JJ interrupted gently.
Reid blushed slightly but nodded bashfully, "Oh yes, sorry…uh, let’s see... ” Reid flipped through the file and his eyes darted back and fourth as he speed read the victims profiles and skimmed the witness statements.
The Team as one turned back to the files in their hands and flipped past the summary pages to the in depth notes and case files on the victims. Naturally, even as the rest of the team read, Reid who had sped through most of the first three pages already began summarizing his thoughts.
"The bystander and three victims to date who were seemingly the main targets are all male which seems to be the only commonality between them. Of the victims we believe were targets: Race is mixed: one African American, one mixed ethnicity Asian and Caucasian and the last Caucasian. The first victim was in his early 20's while the second and third victims were at opposite ends of their 30s. No socio economic overlap that I can see or point of commonality where the victims could have met. I don't see how an enforcer for a street gang, an outdoor equipment sales assistant and patrol officer could have crossed paths."
Reid was frowning, an expression being mirrored by Rossi, "While I agree that there doesn't seem to be a commonality my gut says there has to be. Maybe the cop crossed paths with the other victims in the line of duty. A question for our supposed specialist to dig into when we land. It feels too deliberate to be random selection. Look at the kills. They are controlled, measured, efficient. A spear through the back puncturing the lung and heart on the first kill….that is a refined move borne of patience which prevented the victim from making so much as a whisper as he died. He was in an isolated alley as he approached his vehicle it seems. Victim two sees actual signs of combat, several crossbow arrows were recovered from the scene and the bisecting cuts across the arms indicate defensive wounds. He realized something was wrong and fought back but he was shutting up shop alone at night…no one to hear his distress as he was gutted. Patrol officer Henderson was killed with what I can only describe as a bladed frisbee along with his partner in an alley not fifteen feet from a busy street filled with people who heard nothing…that took planning and patience. Henderson’s partner, Officer MacElroy, his body was cast aside as though he was an afterthought, head and spine left intact. He was a witness to be disposed of, not the main target. These murders were not targets of opportunity. The unsub stalked them and…we know it has access to advanced weaponry but it made all three kills with relatively primitive bladed weapons…that is ritualistic."
JJ's face scrunched up. "We have to remember this unsub is an alien though. Does profiling from human experience even work? What we see as well planned and methodical kills could be messy and spur of the moment to an alien mind!"
Reid nodded, "without context for their society or motives it is a possibility."
Hotch shook his head, "We can't second guess ourselves. The brass chose us because they believe there is a pattern we could recognize so until we know differently we profile the alien like it's any other human unsub. The kills are methodical, not victims of opportunity. If age, ethnicity and occupation aren't how it picks its victims then it must be something else. We just keep building the profile until we find it.'
Emily who had been silent until this moment, reading the file and digesting everything Hotch said, closed her file and stabbed it with her index finger with enough force to draw everyone's attention. "You have done a good job of distracting us with the flashy alien reveal, the bloody pictures and your focus on the profile Hotch, but don't think I missed the part about about it being 'someone" else's job to go after this thing if we can build enough of a profile to narrow it's next hunting area. Who even would be sent? Who is the someone capable of taking this thing down? Iron Man? Captain America?"
JJ held out her hand to Hotch in a blatant 'gimmee" gesture. Hotch's stone like face seemed to become harder as he wordlessly pulled a dollar from his suit pocket and handed it to JJ.
The team watched the exchange in surprise. Morgan's brows raised as he exchanged a look with a confused Spencer and a growingly worried Emily.
Rossi grumbled, "Things are bad if you two were betting on it to distract you from this case."
JJ gave a sunny smile which every profiler read as her media liaison smile she used when trying to hide discomfort, "I bet Hotch you guys wouldn't let it go about who was going after the unsub."
Morgan's eyes narrowed, "Well Hotch, who are they sending? Or are we supposed to build a profile and send some unknown in to risk their lives."
Hotch flipped his file to the back and extracted a single page. He held it before himself in the space between him and the team in the narrow plane. Even from her seat diagonally from Hotch Emily could see the writing on it was sparse and thick black lines of official redactation made up most of the short paragraph of text.
Hotch gave the single page a slight wave, "This one page is not in any of your files. Apparently having more than one copy in circulation was too much for the Secretary of Defense’s nerves. This page is the rather sparse profile for our specialist who is not only the intelligence and cyber asset replacing Garcia on this mission but is also the specialist assigned to deal with the alien if and when we narrow down its possible location."
Morgan reached out and grabbed the page with an incredulous grunt, "They're sending a computer geek to hunt this thing!"
His eyes roamed across the sheet even as Emily and Spencer leaned in to see. Rossi however kept his gaze fixed on Hotch.
Hotch pursed his lips in displeasure, "Daisy Johnson. Code name redacted. Place of birth and previous service redacted. Special abilities include being a world class hacker, sniper, CQC combatant and a list of other abilities that are supposedly so classified that even asking about them could get me a hefty prison sentence according to Strauss…who likewise was told nothing. What we do know is that she is a high level SHIELD agent, 27 years old and she has seen action. A lot of it apparently. Alongside a brief stint as interim director when Hydragate happened and SHIELD was underground. Apparently she is who all the three letter agencies get sent when things are time sensitive and likely to become bloody."
Emily grimaced, "So she is likely an enhanced of some kind but a spook and assassin for our government. You know the types who end up in those jobs as well as I do Hotch; they are either on the fast track to an early grave or they are barely better than some of the unsubs we hunt day and daily."
Hotch seemed to collapse in on himself, "whether that is true or not, I have been assured she is up to the task of providing us with all the tech support we need when we land to build a profile and find the pattern. As to what happens after that…that is between Agent Johnson and the alien. Our job is just to profile and predict. That is all."
Morgan’s disbelieving face wasn’t taking the reassurance though, “27 Hotch? I know age doesn’t preclude ability but doesn’t that strike you as very young to be a specialist trusted with something like this?” Morgan twirled his finger to take in the whole situation they were in.
Hotch nodded, his voice as reasonable and dry as ever, “I am sure her unredacted file would explain her apparent youth and gaining such responsibility while making for a very….interesting read, but that is not our concern.”
Morgan snorted, “Interesting is one word for it. Likely either shady shit or filled with political backscratching more like. And we are meant to trust this person to work with our team…to tackle an unsub who is killing people like they are big game!”
Hotch’s brows furrowed, his tone becoming hard and uncompromising, “The decision is out of our hands Morgan. Someone very high above us believes Agent Johnson is capable of providing the cyber support and dealing with the unsub. That is all we need to know. We do our job. We go home.”
Morgan frowned mulishly while the rest of the team tried to avoid eye contact by becoming engrossed in their files.
The team shifted uncomfortably but Hotch seemed unmoved. Rossi jumped in to save things becoming more awkward as he made a clumsy attempt to draw the team back to the case files.
"Victimology in the previous incidences of the aliens visits that we have scanty redacted synopsis of may hold some insight into how the victims are being picked…"
Spencer, Morgan and JJ focused on Rossi and began shuffling pages in their files as they looked for clues. Emily and Hotch's gazes remained locked as though they were having a silent conversation about the distasteful nature of this case and all that was being left unsaid about a top secret specialist they would have to work with and ultimately send out after this alien unsub.
Eventually Emily nodded in some kind of silent agreement. Hotch returned the gesture with his own chin dipping barely a fraction of a degree. As one they dove into the files and the ebb and flow of the Teams’ speculation.
Barely two hours later the team had landed in New York and were being driven in a pair of blacked out land rovers to the operations blacksite. Morgan had grumbled the whole way about the men in black carrying an assortment of SHIELD and SWORD badges who had driven them from the airfield to the task force's Headquarters in silence. The blacked out windows made it impossible to see where exactly they were going.
Emily attempted to reassure the team who had been unnerved by being separated into two vehicles for escort. She was with a tense Morgan and anxious Reid who seemed to only become more tightly wound as the partition between the driver and the backseat rose as they pulled out of the airfield. They were essentially in a blacked out little box in the back seat. Spotting the button for the intercom Emily pressed it and conversationally spoke to Morgan and Reid in her best attempt to calm their worries., "It's standard procedure I am sure. They are likely using a blacksite that they don't want to burn by us having knowledge of its location. I am sure so long as we play along there will be no issue with the fine agents here driving us out to the crime scenes to get first hand looks. There is only so much you can learn from a report after all. Right Agent…." Emily trailed off.
The Agent wearing a crisp suit and sunglasses who had directed them into the Land Rover and climbed into the driver seat after locking them in the back responded over the intercom, "Koenig. Agent Koenig. Agent Johnson has already made arrangements for your team to have access to the crime scenes and we will be available to drive you there when necessary, however the clandestine nature of this mission requires that our base of operations in the city remains compartmentalized knowledge. Thus the black out glass back there and the partition as you rightly surmised Agent Prentiss."
The journey to the Headquarters took 40 minutes, whether because it was that far away from the air strip or because the driver employed counter measures and a circuitous route to prevent them knowing where they are is uncertain. Emily amused herself with the thought that maybe Agent Koenig was driving laps in the air field and they were really just being brought to some building next door to the air field.
The land rover came to a stop and after a brief pause the back door opened and they scrambled out. Relieved to see JJ, Hotch and Rossi climbing out of their own Land Rover with a carbon copy Agent on their heels.
Emily's eyes cast around and she was unsurprised to see they were in a nondescript concrete garage with a double wide automatic metal shutter behind them muffling the sounds of the city beyond.
The agents who had driven them here ushered them up concrete steps and into what looked like the back rooms of just about any office complex in New York. Well, so long as you ignored the high security biometric locks on the doors. Surveillance cameras, guards at a door preventing exit to the front of the building and the absolute lack of windows.
Agent Koenig pulled a lanyard from his shirt and waved it jauntily, "If you would all follow me. Agent Johnson has set up in the main conference room and is waiting for you."
The team hustled through as Agent Koenig opened the thick electronically locked door, a nondescript corridor with a row of three doors on the right greeted them.
“First door is a break room with a stocked kitchen, the second is the conference room and the third is an armory which I am sorry to say you are not authorised to enter.” Koenig explained.
Hotch led the way into the conference room. It was a large room with state of the art monitors taking up the far wall. Each monitor displayed something different: a map of the city with the murders locations, a file on Mr. Laoshen the outdoor goods salesman, another map with what looked like potential sites for a cloaked ship to land(?) and anatomical specifications on the alien Predator.
The center of the room was dominated by a huge table and chairs. The table had files and a handful of seemingly new laptops and oddly shaped mobile phones laid out in preparation for them with each agent’s name written crisply on a piece of card before each seat.
There was a laptop open and switched on to the left of the table, its beat up black case covered in stickers for various campaigns and movements made a sharp contrast to the sleek new laptops surrounding it. A half empty tub of red vines lay toppled and abandoned by the laptop as though someone had left in the midst of work.
The team hustled in shedding jackets, throwing their go bags in the corner of the room and claiming their assigned seats, laptops and phones. Emily noted there was no camera feature on the phones, it had pre programmed numbers for each of the team and what looked like some kind of monitored internet and email apps.
Agent Koenig smiled, “Agent Johnson must have stepped out. I’ll go rustle her up. If you need anything there's an intercom to contact me by this door, my name should be listed in each of your new phone’s contacts or you can make your way back to the garage and one of the agents there will render any aid you require.”
“Thank you for your help Agent Koenig,” Hotch replied professionally.
Koenig left and the team settled on examining the conference rooms screens and spreading out their files across the table.
Hotch took a deep breath, "Alright, let’s finish reading the files, I know I didn’t get through them all on the plane. Spencer, if you would examine what these screens offer and perhaps look into possible geographical correlation on the murder sites.”
The team gave various nods of agreement and began shuffling through pages. Emily and Rossi sat together with their heads bowed over a crime scene report as they discussed the first murder victim and whether his criminal past and present may play a role in why he was chosen as a victim.
Spencer was standing with a grimace at the monitor displaying a map of the kill sites. His eyes were scanning the local subway lines, roads and points of interest, his mind frantically trying to make connections with traffic patterns and crime statistics for some correlation of why these men had been targeted in these specific places.
Hotch could see Spencer’s eyes squinting and his fingers twitching in agitation. He gave it less than a half hour before Spencer all but demanded a hard copy map to work with. His distaste of all things digital was well known.
JJ was reading witness statements which were leaving her scowling since all of them seemed to amount to seeing nothing right up until the headless bodies were found.
The conference room door swung open with a thud. A woman with purple streaked hair in tight leather backed into the room.
The figure turned to reveal an asian woman in her mid twenties with a scar on her cheek. She was carrying two trays of to-go coffee stacked on top of each other.
The woman smiled brightly even as shrewd eyes flicked around the room and seemed to assess each member of the team in a fraction of a second. If her eyes lingered on Emily Prentiss for a fraction of a second longer, well, no-one except Emily noticed.
She held the coffees up, “Sup? I’m Daisy. Heard you had landed so I did a coffee run. Help yourselves.”
Daisy strode forward and set the tall coffees on the table, her hands diving into her pockets to pull out sugar and creamer packets.
Daisy waved at the coffee as the team came forward to help themselves. Emily seemingly frozen for a moment shaking herself before following the rest of her team’s example in descending on the caffein.
Daisy lifted a tall cup for herself and sipped appreciatively before saying, “Sorry it’s Dunkin donuts, but getting coffee from the nice artisanal place close by would give away our location. Dunkin’s coffee isn’t bad and they have the most outlets in the city so it nicely obfuscates our location while saving you from the horror of the stuff SHIELD claims is coffee in the break room.”
Hotch stepped up, lifting a tall to-go cup with his left hand and offering his right to Daisy, “Agent Johnson, I am special agent Aaron Hotchner. It is good to meet you, although I wish it were under better circumstances. The coffee is appreciated.”
Daisy shook his hand with a light shrug, “I’m going to be honest. I know who you all are, I did a deep dive when you were assigned to me. Force of habit as an ex hacker. I like what I saw, your team does good work. As for the coffee, no problem. Getting called out of bed in the middle of the night to make it here can’t have been fun. Coffee is the least I could do.”
Morgan was obviously eyeing Daisy, her slight frame and seemingly casual air with confusion. This was the specialist? Before Hotch could reply Morgan’s own dry retort and sharp look landed, “Good you like what you saw, funny though since we got almost nothing on you but a name and a brief that looks more like a crossword there are so many blanks and blacked out bits.”
Hotch was prepared to intervene but rather than be offended Daisy merely smiled in the face of Morgan’s scowl and gave a one shoulder shrug dripping with casual disregard, “Such is the life of a spy. You do stuff nobody ever knows about, just like this case.”
Daisy, well used to being underestimated, ignored the team’s calculating looks and before Morgan could offer any more dry aggressive comments she dismissively turned her back on him and merely rounded the table to her laptop.
“So, what have you got so far and what do you want me to look up? We’re burning daylight and have an alien murderer on the loose. Let’s roll.” Daisy declared as she set her coffee down and cracked her knuckles before sitting poised to type. Her gaze challenging.
Rossi jumped to the rescue again, “We need to know if Officer Henderson crossed paths with the other two victims, sealed and juvenile records I assume are of no impediment to you?”
Daisy gave a shark like smile, “None at all.”
And so the Team began their investigation, bouncing ideas off each other and having Daisy run checks and searches on previous addresses, family members, hobbies and a host of other possible points of commonality that their victims may have had.
Daisy and Emily studiously not looking at each other except when it was necessary to address queries about the case. The unspoken tension so well hidden even the profilers in the room missed it. The spy and the ex spy wearing perfect masks.
To be continued...