"The media has discovered the identity of the sole survivor, and now there's a flood of angry emails, harassing phone calls, and comments on social media. Some people are asking why only he survived while everyone else perished."
Despite living in the digital age, where the diversity of humanity is common knowledge, many still couldn't help but display expressions of disbelief.
Jack picked up the phone and called Garcia. "Hey, beautiful, can you help track the sources of the threats directed at Frank Canfos and his wife? Do a thorough check, and it would be great if you could also investigate the passenger list again."
When Garcia answered, her face was covered in a ghostly white face mask that filled the entire screen, startling both Jack and JJ.
"No problem, but hasn't every passenger already been vetted? I don't think I can do a better job than my Quantico colleagues."
"The suspect isn't a terrorist. We're profiling him as a serial killer. Reid believes there may have been a specific motive for the suspect choosing this flight."
Jack thought for a moment before continuing, "Focus on the passengers' relationships. Check if any of them had contact with individuals displaying traits of paranoia, psychopathy, and high intelligence. The suspect must be highly educated.
"And reach out to your new hacker friend. The hacker community isn't that big, and anyone with the skill to remotely hack a plane would be at the top of the pyramid. Maybe she knows something."
Garcia sighed deeply, peeling off her mask to reveal panda-like dark circles under her eyes.
"You don't need to ask; I was already planning to reach out to her. Even if I could get NSA monitoring permissions and sift through the social profiles, texts, emails, and phone recordings of 152 people, it'd be like finding a needle in the Pacific Ocean.
"And you're asking me to find one special grain of sand in that ocean. My search algorithms are going to need an overhaul. I hope next time we visit the farm, I can prepare an appropriate gift."
Jack chuckled. For someone like Justin, the quirky, almost comedic Garcia being her friend was probably the best gift already.
He pointed to his eyes. "Don't worry about your dark circles. When we're back, I'll have a surprise for you."
Garcia beamed, delighted, and quickly ended the video call. She had complete faith in Jack's promises, especially since he had become something of a beauty and wellness expert for all the women on the team.
With his master-level culinary skills and knowledge of medicinal cooking, his meals were not only delicious but nutritious. And on top of that, Jack could "cheat" a little—occasionally giving out small healing buffs during casual physical contact.
The effects were remarkable, making it so that even when Jack forced the girls to hit the gym, no one complained. He had somehow mastered the balance between being a nurturing guy and a PUA expert.
The BAU team's suggestion was taken seriously by the higher-ups. Their exceptional performance during the anthrax attack investigation was still fresh in everyone's memory.
But this also meant that Hotchner and Rossi were now under immense pressure. While the BAU wasn't investigating alone, there were countless agents working behind the scenes at the FBI, DHS, and other federal agencies.
If the no-fly order was issued, each second meant massive economic losses, and this pressure would trickle down from the top of the FBI, making its way through the ranks. Even though Hotchner didn't say it outright, everyone, including Jack, was fully aware of this.
Since 9/11, aside from weather or technical reasons causing flight delays, the FAA had never issued a second nationwide no-fly order.
Once again, they were racing against time, and everyone grew tense. Thankfully, Garcia was exceptionally quick this time. Just over an hour later, she called back, and everyone reconvened in the conference room.
"I scanned all the passengers' texts, emails, and social media activity from the past month, focusing on keywords like death, pain, suicide, and other threatening language.
"And then I found this."
Garcia displayed the image of a middle-aged white woman with a sweet smile. It was clear she had been quite beautiful in her youth.
"Christina Morrow, seat 29D. Three days before the flight, she received this text message: 'I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.'"
"The *Bhagavad Gita*!" Emily exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention. She smiled sheepishly, a little embarrassed.
"I was obsessed with Indian culture for a while in middle school. My mom was the ambassador to New Delhi back then."
This was the first time Emily Prentiss had shared anything about her past or family with the team.
"It's a quote from Robert Oppenheimer, the father of the atomic bomb," Jack added, recalling Nolan's recent *Oppenheimer* movie, which he had watched before crossing into this world.
In the movie, Oppenheimer first recited that line from Vishnu to the prince while lying in bed with his lover—a scene that had once again angered Indian viewers, who felt it desecrated a revered text.
"Can we trace the origin of the message?" Hotchner asked.
Garcia, now wearing pink beach sunglasses to hide her dark circles, looked troubled.
"Sorry, guys. The message came from a prepaid phone. The best I could do was trace it to the Tower Mountain area in Colorado."
Reid glanced at the map, noting that the area Garcia mentioned was even larger than the one he had previously outlined, offering no real help.
"Can we narrow down the suspects from Christina's social circle? Maybe by looking at her Facebook likes or something?" Rossi asked.
JJ and Emily exchanged glances, surprised. Was this the same old man who had recently complained about how difficult smartphones were to use? Now he was talking about Facebook likes?
"Uh, that's a bit tricky. Christina seems pretty normal. She's an ICU nurse, married to an insurance salesman, with two kids. She also has three or four people she might be romantically involved with… lovers, maybe? I didn't dig too deep into that."
"Alright, thanks." Hotchner politely ended the video call.
The team was about to begin their preliminary profiling when Major Reardon, the Black female major, entered the room.
"We've just received word that the FAA has officially issued the no-fly order. We've got 24 hours to find this guy."
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