[If anyone can spot the James Bond reference, I'll be very proud and impressed.]

Knowing all the tricks of his trade gave Dan an edge. He had spent the last three and a half years of his life learning how to follow people and not be seen. Flatly speaking, he was insulted that someone was trying to tail him. Even more insulting was the fact that someone somewhere felt that he needed to be trailed. He may not have been that high up, but somewhere in his desk in his windowless and cramped little office he still had a flip-open wallet with CIA credentials inside. He was supposed to do the following.

He was only slightly worried that whoever was following him was actually intending harm. Besides, Dan hadn't done anything wrong. He was merely following the orders of a voice over the telephone. Surely that didn't warrant a bullet in the back of the head or jungle wiring in a dank alley.

Stopping at a crosswalk, Dan, pretending to be stretching, pointed to a bookstore; brazenly signaling whomever was so interested in him. Dan reasoned he was at least owed the decency of knowing what was going on. If this was a kill mission of some sort, being in a crowded shop prevented use of gun. His overcoat and uniform would probably make stabbing decently difficult. That was two of the more efficient methods of assassination out of the way.

He crossed the street to the shop and went inside, never once turning around. Dan ignored proper decorum and did not remove his Officer's cap. He reasoned someone would really have to want him dead to attempt a living daylights hit on someone in uniform. Though, he knew there were KGB and Volkspolizei types who were certainly crazy/zealous enough to try it.

Dan wormed his way through the quaint by deceptively expansive shop. He eventually settled in what appeared to be the Military History section. It was walled off by shelves of books forming an uppercase L, leaving him secluded enough to speak above a whisper and not risk blowing his cover. He groaned at the irony of the subject matter. He waited patiently as the well dressed but shaggy haired stalker eventually appeared. His clothes were casual, but clearly expensive. Dan relaxed, knowing that Blade Runners and all other assorted contract killers were rarely what would pass for well-dressed.

"What's this about?" Dan asked bluntly.

"Honestly?" The British accent sounded. "Nothing. Bloody nonsense if you ask me."

"You're just following me through the streets of Berlin for the fun of it?" Dan inquired, a little infuriated that it was a British tail. Those Cousins really got on his nerves sometimes.

"We're on the same mission," the stalker answered. "Forgive my manners, I'm Trevor." He said, offering a hand.

"Five or Six?" Dan asked, shaking the outstretched hand.

"Neither," Trevor answered, smiling just a little. "Defense Intelligence Staff."

Dan nodded, having never seen an actual DIS agent in person before. Today was like a Scavenger Hunt of intelligence agencies. "You're a Guardsman?"

"Yes," Trevor nodded. "I didn't wear the red uniform today. It wouldn't have blended in well."

"Imagine how I feel," Dan jokingly groused. "I'm guessing we're both operating from the same file."

"Probably," Trevor nodded. "Though, you're after your countries' files. I'm after mine."

"Beg pardon?" Dan asked, finally removing his hat.

"Your Mr. Lockwood also walked out of your Embassy with one or two of things that might belong to us," The Brit explained, trying not to betray any tells or facial cues. He removed his scarf and bundled it in his hands. "Hence, I'm here."

"Makes sense," Dan nodded. "Any sign of him being around?"

"Nothing much yet," Trevor shrugged. "Odds are West Berlin is just one of his many possible destinations."

Dan nodded and took a seat in an adjacent chair as he rubbed at his chin. His razor burn was just enough to bug him. "So, DIS. You guys are pretty well respected."

"Nobody does it better." Trevor bragged, plucking a book of the shelf as he took a seat. The two began to slowly pour over the small tidbits of information their superiors and handlers had given them. Both knew the exact same thing: basically a name and nothing else.

Elsewhere in West Berlin, at the needlessly lavish awkward Hotel Berolina, three US Army Officers with almost absurdly young looks sat huddled around a balcony table.

"It's freezing. Someone tell me why we're outside." Second Lieutenant Tyler Lockwood griped.

"I like the cold." First Lieutenant Nate Archibald answered, his being the Commanding Officer of the trio making it a perfectly valid reason. Second Lieutenant Jeremy Gilbert merely shrugged. Cold didn't faze him much.

"It's not that bad," Jeremy said. "At least it's clear outside." This was important because it made it easier for him to doodle the Berlin skyline on a napkin.

"Stop complaining, you two," Nate almost barked. "You two should be happy I don't enforce the hair length rules."

"We wouldn't be very good at being discreet if we all had buzzuts." Tyler said, just a little petulant. This earned the slightest of giggles from Jeremy, which in turned earned Jeremy a quick wink from Tyler. Nate rolled his eyes.

"I've been doing this for almost four years," The First Lieutenant said. "The two of you can't even combine for two years. So what I say goes."

"Miss your beauty sleep?" Jeremy asked. Nate felt his eye twitch.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's like the Rose girl joked about when we met up last night," Jeremy tried to explain through suppressed chuckles. "She said you seemed the type to get mad when you don't get your required eight hours."

Jeremy and Tyler exploded into laughter as soon as the sentence was finished. Nate again could only roll his eyes. Try as he may, he couldn't really be mad at his two subordinates. Their constant yet endearing feuding kept him laughing, which in turn kept him feeling young.

"Back to work," Nate said, working not to laugh. "Summarize those reports, then see if you can't find us a Lamplighter for some help." He said, rising from his seat and heading inside and to the door.

"Where are you going?" Tyler asked.

"Out to eat," Nate answered with a smirk. "So hurry up and make me look good." He said, exiting his hotel room.

"We're agreed that he's a little bit of a dick, right?" Jeremy asked, shifting his attention to the mind-numbing dullery of official dispatches.

"Right." Tyler answered.