Jason Gideon walked into the bullpen of the FBI headquarters in Quantico at ten-twenty-five on a bright Wednesday morning.

For a long while thereafter, no one noticed. He didn't appear, at first glance, to be anything impressive. At best, he was in remarkable shape for a man two years shy of sixty. The wrinkles in his smile and eyes softened a face that might otherwise be strong and cold. He kept his graying hair trimmed close to the scalp and dressed like a college professor, missing only the leather patches on the elbows of his coat.

He walked straight to the front of the bullpen, not announcing his presence, merely watching the dozens of agents as they scurried through their daily tasks. Not a one of them took notice until the intern assigned to update the Most Wanted list glanced up from his work and choked on his recognition of the man he'd just placed at Number One.

Moments later, a dozen agents abandoned their files, drew their service pistols, and trained them on the intruder. Jason Gideon only smiled and raised his empty hands.

Dumbstruck, the gathered agents stood down and allowed the Behavioral Analysis Unit to make the arrest. After all, he was their case. They'd hunted him for years now, especially these last few months. It was only right that they close the door on the investigation.

But even they couldn't guess how one of the most prolific serial killers in American history managed to walk straight into an FBI facility without detection. No doubt, that was exactly how Gideon liked it.


"How dreadful…to be caught up in a game and have no idea of the rules."

– author Caroline Stevermer