"So," I asked Townsend. "What's our next assignment?"

"Security work." He answered.

"Security work?" I raised an eyebrow. "Why is someone calling in CIA agents for security work?"

"Because no one else would believe them." Zach smirked.

"Huh?"

"You see, Ms. Morgan," Townsend cleared his throat. "A wealthy debutante received a tip from an anonymous source that a painting of hers would be stolen at her upcoming party. She refused to trust her painting to a pack of rent-a-cops, and no one else in the AlphaNet gave her much attention."

"And we're getting involved, because," I still did not see why we were doing such a civilian thing.

"Because of the person the tipster said would steal the painting, Interpol passed this onto us." Townsend explained.

"Who?" I was starting to get interested.

"Visily Romani." He answered mysteriously.

"The guy who broke into the Henley?" My eyes nearly came out of their sockets.

"The very same." Townsend nodded. "Interpol is familiar with this character, and he's familiar with them. They believed that if this tip is in fact genuine, he would detect their presence and leave before anything could happen, were they to handle this."

"And they called us because….?"

"Because Interpol has heard of you two." He gestured at me and Zach. "They believe that you and Zach will be perfect to catch Romani."

For a second, I couldn't believe it. Interpol had heard of us?! Well, I guess it wasn't too surprising, given our history, but still. They believed we could catch Visily Romani?!

"Cool, huh?" Zach cocked a smile at me.

"Uh, yeah," I replied. "One question, though."

"Yes?" Townsend demanded.

"This is a high society event, right?" I asked, to which Townsend nodded. "So, how are Zach and I, a couple of college freshman, supposed to fit in?"

"Well, you both are younger than you look," Townsend commented. "At least in my opinion. "

"I guess that makes sense." I shrugged. "So, what's our cover?"

"The newly-wed granddaughter and grandson-in-law of the lady of the household." Zach looked at me with a sheepish grin. "Her real granddaughter is on her honeymoon. Yet, not many know that, and wouldn't be surprised to see 'us' back."

"Ok, then." I nodded. "I always thought we would be out of college before we got married, but…" I winked at Zach.

"Well, sometimes things don't go as planned." He winked back at me.

"So, when's the party?"

So, that's how at six o'clock, one warm November evening, I was dressed to the nines, arm-in-arm with Zach, entering a mansion fitting of the name Richmond. We were fashionably late, as Diane Richmond-Turner would apparently be. We were immediately flocked by apparent friends and relatives. Finally, we reached our client, Mrs. Cynthia Richmond.

"Oh, Diane, darling!" She squeeled, hugging me. "I'm so glad you could make it tonight."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world, Grandmother." I smiled in reply.

"And I suppose this is Joseph?" She turned towards Zach.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Richmond." He answered politely.

"Likewise." Mrs. Richmond gave a little bow. "Now, why don't you two go mingle? There are refreshments upstairs, near the Renoir."

"We will," I nodded. "Thank you, Grandmother." Zach and I went to the second floor landing. We each grabbed a glass of the sparkling water on the refreshments table and casually talked to some of the other guests, using information from our cover files. We never drifted far from the Renoir we were supposed to be guarding. After a while, I felt my head getting a little fuzzy.

"Joseph, dear?" I pulled on his sleeve. He didn't seem to notice, and seemed to be laughing at a joke that had stopped being funny about five minutes ago. "Joseph?" I tugged harder.

Then it hit me. My head is fuzzy, and Zach is acting goofy? Oh no. This 'sparkling water' was actually champagne! Zach was inadvertently drunk on the job, and I wasn't too far behind! This is bad. VERY BAD.

"Joseph" I hissed in his ear.

"Yes, Cam…" He barely caught himself when I glared. "Mera! Yes, camera! We should take pictures of our first party as husband and wife. I believe it's in the car. Let's go get it, hmm?"

"Yes, let's." I helped Zach outside. He faced me once we were out.

"What's wrong, Gallagher Girl?" He asked, putting a little too much emphasis on the s in "what's"

"Please forgive me for this." I begged.

"Forgive you for what?" He asked as I slapped him upside the head. "Ow…" He shook his head. "Hey, why are we out here?"

"We had too much 'sparkling water'. I couldn't let us stay in there with you drunk." I explained.

"Me? Drunk?"

"Yes." I insisted. "Now, let's go back inside and get you sobered up some more."

"Alright." I led him to the upstairs bathroom, explaining on the way, "Mr. Turner hasn't had this much to drink since our wedding night." And we took turns splashing water in our faces until our heads cleared up. Suddenly, the lights went out, followed by the shrieks of surprised party guests.

"The painting!" I gasped. I ran out the door, and ran to where I knew the painting was. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw the silhouette of a person taking the Renoir from its frame, rolling it up to put it into a cylindrical container they held. I gave them a quick kick to their right side, making them drop the container from their left hand. I ran to pick up the case, but mine and the thief's hands reached it at the same time.

Zach appeared at that moment, and pried the thief's hands off.

"Now, now," He smirked as we got up. "This painting is put to shame in this case. It would look so much better on that wall over there, don't you think?"

"No, I don't." A man's voice came out, and a fist landed under Zach's chin, nearly knocking him out.

"Zach!" I cried, forgetting the painting, kneeling beside him.

"I'm okay, Gallagher Girl." Zach moaned. "You go get the painting. I'll catch up."

"You sure?" I didn't want to leave him.

"Yes," He started to get up. "Now, go!"