"Damn it!"
Jack's chest tightened. The explosion had occurred in the direction of the DHS New York office. He instinctively dialed Hotchner's number, but all he got was a busy signal. He tried Joyner next—same result. A foreboding chill crept over him.
"Contact Joyner and Hotchner through the radio!" Jack barked, his voice sharp with urgency. "Tell them to stay put, do not return to Federal Plaza yet. Garcia! Pull up every surveillance camera near the blast site—I need to know exactly what happened there within five minutes!"
Garcia, pale and shaken, scrambled to her keyboard. "On it—checking now!"
Her unfamiliarity with New York's layout meant she hadn't immediately connected the blast to Hotchner's location. The proximity to Federal Plaza only added to the panic. The operations center had turned into a chaotic scene: agents shouting into phones, some frozen in shock, while others tried frantically to reach their families.
The BAU team's earlier profiling discussions—the scale of the potential terror attack, the predictions of bombs—had planted a seed of dread. Now, with an actual explosion, it was blossoming into full-blown hysteria.
Even Jack found himself momentarily doubting their profile. The blast was far from any of the eight previous attack sites, and the timing was all wrong. Had they miscalculated everything?
Or worse, had the perpetrators targeted the BAU directly? But how would they have known? Justin's traps hadn't been triggered, and there was no sign that their internal movements had been compromised.
"No, this doesn't add up," Jack muttered to himself, forcing his thoughts into order. "The explosion isn't massive. This isn't their main event—it's a diversion, a calculated move to sow chaos.
He scanned the room, dismissing the idea of an inside mole. If there was one, a bigger target like Dana Moritz or Rossi would've been the priority.
"Hey! Everyone, calm down! This isn't the end of the world!" Jubal's booming voice cut through the chaos. He clapped his hands sharply, commanding the attention of the room.
**"Put down your phones! That was a roadside bomb, not the apocalypse! This was part of the scenario we discussed—it just happened earlier than expected.
"Now, I need every one of you to refocus. The mobile network's already overloaded, so stop trying to call home. Pick up your radios, contact the agents outside, and confirm their safety. Someone get the NYPD on the line—I want to know what's happening at the site now!"**
The room settled. Agents returned to their desks, the sound of urgent radio chatter replacing panicked calls.
"Jack, I've got the footage—it's them! It's Hotchner and Joyner!" Garcia's trembling voice called out from her station.
Jack rushed over, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Don't panic. Let's see what we're dealing with first."
The screen showed a line of parked cars. In the background was the black Suburban temporarily assigned to Hotchner. Soon, two figures entered the frame—Hotchner in his signature suit and Joyner in her professional attire.
The two approached the Suburban, chatting casually. Hotchner opened the driver's door and climbed in. Joyner, meanwhile, had just opened the passenger side door when a black sedan parked in front of the Suburban suddenly exploded.
The blast filled the screen with fire and debris, obscuring everything. When the smoke began to clear, there was no sign of either of them, and even the Suburban's outline was hard to discern.
"I need another angle—what happened to them?" Garcia's voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes. Her hands shook, fumbling on the keyboard.
Jack gently but firmly steadied her. "It's recorded footage, Garcia. There's no switching angles here. Pull up live feeds—check for other nearby cameras."
"Yes, yes, you're right. There should be more…" Garcia exhaled sharply, focusing with renewed determination.
Jack grabbed his rifle and prepared to head out. Before leaving, he turned back. "Go through the footage. Find out when that car was parked there—this could be critical."
Two blocks away, the scene was chaos. Jack arrived in his roaring Dodge Hellcat, but the NYPD's Emergency Services Unit (ESU) had beaten him there. Officers in tactical gear had already cordoned off the area with makeshift barriers.
Jack stepped out, a striking figure in his tailored suit, combat-ready with his Noveske N4 rifle slung over his shoulder and a first aid kit in hand. The ESU officers, seeing his weapon, instinctively raised theirs.
"Stand down! He's one of ours!" barked the ESU commander, Captain Werner, who had worked with Jack before.
"Captain Werner, my people are in there!" Jack called out, showing his credentials. "I need to get through."
"We've got orders: no one enters until the scene is secured. Emergency responders are en route, but the bomb squad's still a few minutes out," Werner replied, his tone firm but understanding.
"I get it. I wrote those damn orders. The secondary target could be the responders themselves. Keep enforcing the perimeter. I'll go in alone."
Before Werner could argue, Jack vaulted over the barricade and sprinted toward the flames.
Amid the debris, Jack spotted Hotchner. He was crouched on the ground, waving desperately for help. Nearby lay Joyner, motionless. Strangely, another civilian seemed to be with them.
As Jack closed the distance, Garcia's voice suddenly burst through his earpiece, loud and urgent.
"Jack! Are you on site yet?"
"Yes, I see Hotchner. He looks okay," Jack replied, his pace slowing slightly.
"Be careful! That guy near them—he's the bomber! He parked the car with the bomb and stayed to watch everything unfold. He's pretending to be a bystander!"
Jack froze mid-step, instincts on high alert. "Are you certain?"
Garcia's voice was furious. "One hundred percent! I've been watching the footage—he walked right up to Hotchner, pretending to be a random civilian!"
Jack immediately crouched, activating the signal jammer he had in his pocket. The air around him grew silent as he unslung his rifle and took aim.
"Hotch!"
Hotchner and the other figure looked up at Jack's shout. In that split second, Jack squeezed the trigger. The sharp crack of his rifle echoed through the smoke-filled street.
(End of Chapter)
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