The kitchen of the Isles residence was a showcase of polished wood, copper, and steel, gleaming in the early morning light. Jane looked around nervously, feeling as if she was intruding before Azima appeared at her elbow and settled her onto a nearby stool.

"I have coffee for you, Detective Jane," she announced. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

Jane started to object, but stilled at a chuckle from Nigel. The driver perched easily on his own stool near the sink, holding his own cup daintily in one hand.

"Best not to argue with her," he advised, his head tilted towards the woman now busily assembling her special brew. His tone was wry and clearly had the weight of long experience.

Jane sighed and nodded, then a thought occurred to her and she turned more fully to the Englishman.

"Hey Nigel, I don't suppose you run errands for the Isles."

"Of course."

She paused and accepted a steaming mug from the housekeeper and remembered Maura's advice from the night before. "Asante. Is that right?"

Azima beamed and patted Jane on the shoulder fondly. "You are most welcome! Now I must see to the linens."

Jane took a moment to sip her coffee as the woman bustled away, pondering her next question.

"So," she said finally, looking over her shoulder to make sure they were still alone. "I kind of need a favor, and a bit of discretion."

Blue eyes twinkled at her, alight with curiosity. He set his cup down and leaned forward, his lips curled up slightly. "Oh, do tell, Detective."

Maura stretched as she awoke, the morning sun filling the room with a golden glow. She blinked as she realized she was alone. The sheets beside her were cool; Jane had been gone for a while. She smiled as she suspected hunger had driven her detective in search of sustenance, and made her way to the en suite to prepare for her day.

Thirty minutes later she arrived in the dining room and greeted her mother, already seated for breakfast

"Jane sleeping in this morning, darling?" Constance asked, lowering her newspaper.

Maura shook her head and turned towards the door to the kitchen as Azima appeared with a laden tray.

"Detective Jane went for a walk, Bibi," Azima announced as she prepared plates for the two women. "She wanted some fresh air before breakfast."

There was a clatter from the opposite doorway "I did, though it was colder than I expected," said Jane from the opposite doorway. Her nose and cheeks were ruddy from the crisp air, but she looked invigorated. "Oh, that smells wonderful. You got enough food for a big Italian stomach?" she teased.

"You sit!" Azima commanded. "You will need a nap when I am done with you."

Jane chuckled and sank into the chair next to Maura. "Good morning, Constance," she said cheerfully, then leaned over to place a lingering kiss against the blonde's cheek. "Hey there."

"Good morning," Maura exhaled huskily at the sensation of hot breath along her neck. Then she cleared her throat. "Did you have a nice walk?"

"I did, thanks. It's real nice around here." To Jane's amusement, Maura immediately straightened, her eyes alight with the familiar expression that she was about to share her knowledge. "Lay it on me, Doc. I know you can't help yourself."

Maura's eyes narrowed slightly, then she huffed. "Well, this area was a recognized estate as far back as the eleventh century A.D., and is recorded in the Domesday Book under the Latin Chenesitone. It was bequeathed to a trusted advisor of William the Conqueror."

"The Conqueror? Named himself, did he?" Jane joked, then recoiled away from Maura's swat to her arm. "I'm kidding!"

"Also known as William I, he was the first Norman king of England," the doctor continued, a little grumpily in the face of Jane's grin. "He defeated the last Anglo-Saxon king, Harold, at the Battle of Hastings."

Jane beamed at her. "That's my genius," she gloated indulgently then leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. Maura smiled despite herself.

Constance smirked at Jane's obvious adoration of her daughter. "My father used to say 'An investment in knowledge pays the best interest.'"

"Benjamin Franklin," Jane responded automatically, then grinned smugly at Maura's look of shock. "Hey, I'm not so dumb. I did a term paper on him in high school."

"I would never call you anything other than brilliant, Detective," Maura replied, her voice lowered in a way that ran down Jane's spine. Then her expression grew mischievous. "Merely crass."

"Hey!"

Jane's rejoinder was interrupted by the heavy dong of the doorbell.

Constance looked over her shoulder in surprise as Azima went to answer the door. "Where you expecting anyone, Maura?"

"No, Mother."

A familiar voice drifts down the hallway and the housekeeper soon returned with Mugsie in tow. The baroness grimaced apologetically. "Mrs. Isles, do forgive my hideous intrusion this morning."

Constance smiled as she rose to exchange air kiss greetings. "Nonsense, Lady Margaret. It is delightful to see you of course."

"Could we please drop the 'Lady'," Mugsie begged plaintively and Constance laughed.

"Habits of a lifetime, my dear," she apologized. "Do have some breakfast. I'm afraid Azima will insist."

Mugsie sighed as she sank down into chair. "I wouldn't dream of denying her, or her exquisite coffee."

"Here, here," Jane called, raising her own mug in a toast.

Once Mugsie was situated, Constance excused herself. "I'll be gone most of the day, my darlings. I'm meeting with my agent about next month's installation in Paris and I'm sure you have much to talk about." She paused in the doorway and gave Jane a stern look. "I trust you'll keep them out of trouble, Detective."

Jane resisted the urge to salute. "Of course."

"Excellent. I'll look forward to seeing you at dinner."

"Well, we know who her favorite is," Mugsie teased as Constance disappeared. "Buttering up the in-laws, I see."

"Oh shut up."

Mugsie chuckled, then her expression grew more serious. "So, I have some good news and some bad news, and I really didn't want to share this at headquarters."

Jane leaned forward, her own face intent. "What do you know?"

They paused as Azima returned long enough to deliver a plate and coffee then took her leave, the door to the kitchen swinging shut behind her.

Mugsie took a long sip then sat back, fingers fidgeting with a peace of toast. "So, got back word from the Australians, confirming that Ian Faulkner is in fact his legal name, but it was given to him as a teenage boy when he immigrated from Eastern Europe around 20 years ago or so with his father." She shook her head with irritation. "The reason it took them so long to get back to me was that the files were marked as top secret for some mysterious reason — someone was paid off to expedite and then hide the official name change and it took a while to get the proper clearances to unseal the records." She took a deep breath. "His original name was Imre Farkas, and the father was János Farkas."

Maura's face paled. "Are you sure?"

The Englishwoman nodded soberly, her face grave. "The father disappeared soon after; there's no record of him anywhere recently. Ian, well, we know at least some of what he's been up to."

Jane looked back and forth between them. "Farkas? Like Katalin Farkas?"

Maura nodded. "Katalin's father János was a known Soviet collaborator who managed to escape prosecution after the Eastern Bloc collapsed and the new democratic republic came to power in nineteen eighty-nine. He was suspected of many fairly horrific human rights abuses."

"Katalin…" Jane couldn't bring herself to finish her thought.

"She hated her father. She lived with her mother until her mother was killed in a robbery, and then she lived with her grandparents. I can see no possible way she could be involved in anything with János."

"Or her brother," Jane commented sourly, then noticed Maura's startled expression. "That would make Ian her brother, right?"

Maura looked a little nauseated. "I suppose— yes, Ian would be her brother."

"Speaking of Ian," Mugsie took a bite of eggs. "The satchel?"

Jane glanced quickly at Maura, then withdrew a small brass key with a small tag attached to it. "You can have it of course, but other than a bunch of soggy paperwork, this was all that was in it." She laid the items on the table before sitting back. "I took a look and I have some guesses, but let me know what you think."

The two blonde women leaned forward.

"Locker key, perhaps." said Mugsie, examining the key.

"Or safety deposit box," Jane offered.

Maura examined the tag. "36 SW 148. The number certainly could be a location number." She shook her head. "A safety deposit box wouldn't likely have such an identification attached to it."

Jane looked curiously at Mugsie. "This doesn't seem like particularly scary information for someone in the intelligence service," she commented finally. "Why did you want to talk here?"

Mugsie frowned and shook her head. "One of the reasons Sir Edward refuses to take my investigation seriously is that I've uncovered some aliases for those I believe in in charge of this new criminal organization, and because of that he thinks this whole thing is a colossal joke." She bit her lip, then blurted. "I've found lots of references to Ernst Blofeld and Mister Bond."

Jane burst out laughing, after a moment she attempted to catch her breath, but at Maura's quizzical expression laughed even harder. "Come on Maura," she gasped. "Haven't I ever made you watch a James Bond movie with me?"

Maura's expression cleared somewhat. "I believe you subjected me to Casino Royale but I don't recall an Ernst Blofeld in that movie."

Jane sat back. "Okay, fine, he wasn't in that one. Let's just say he's the biggest bad guy in the James Bond universe." She wiggled her eyebrows and affected a bad accent. "Do you expect me to talk?"

"No, Mister Bond, I expect you to die," Mugsie finished the quote, grinning. "Except that wasn't Blofeld, that was Goldfinger."

"Whatever, nerd," Jane retorted.

Maura stared at the both of them. "But if I'm understanding this terribly incoherent conversation, Blofeld and Bond were enemies, were they not?"

"Well, yes, but that doesn't necessarily imply that our Blofeld and Bond are enemies." Mugsie said mildly.

"Yeah, just that they're into awesome spy movies," Jane commented as she reached for another pastry.

Mugsie was silent for a moment, then cleared her throat. "The other bit as to why I'm nervous talking about this at work," she said finally, "is that it could also be an ironic reference to a traitor here in England working in concert with an Eastern European."

Jane scowled. "Like Farkos."

"Exactly."

"So maybe he's got a buddy here in the UK, who maybe could have helped grease the wheels with somebody in Australia for new identities."

Mugsie grinned at Maura. "You did land yourself a smart one." Then her smiled faded. "You can imagine how such a supposition would be viewed by Sir Edward, or anyone in MI5 or MI6 really."

Jane pursed her lips. "I never understood what the difference was between those two," she admitted.

"Essentially the difference between the FBI and the CIA," Maura supplied. "One is internally focused, the other is external."

"Which do you work for?" Jane asked Mugsie curiously.

"Technically, both. However it's complicated." Mugsie waved her hand. "Let's just say that there are times where my team is almost certainly operating outside the realm of either national or international privacy law, but the data we trace almost always spans too many jurisdictional borders for us to do things the old-fashioned way." She glared at Jane, as if daring her to protest.

"Don't look at me," Jane held up her hands. "Can't tell you how many times my partner Frost has looked things up on his computer that we probably should have gotten a warrant for."

"Ah, a fellow computer nerd, I see."

"Oh yeah," Jane laughed. "And he wants your autograph."

"What a dear," Mugsie murmured. "So, let's keep the Blofeld Bond Farkos thing under our hats for a bit, shall we? I really want more time to dig into that before risking the ridicule of my compatriots. And if I'm right about the potential mole in our midst, I don't want to tip their hand."

Another loud dong interrupted them.

"Now what?" Jane demanded irritably.

There was a rumble of male voices, then after a few minutes Azima stuck her head in the room. "Miss Maura, two gentlemen are here to see you. I put them in the study."

"Thank you, Azima," replies Maura, puzzled but rising to her feet. Jane joined her, her whole body instantly on alert.

"You didn't tell anyone else you were here, did you Maur?" she asked as she peered down the hall.

"No."

Jane led the way, one hand slightly raised behind her as if to push Maura out of the way should trouble arise. As the women entered the richly appointed study two men rose from their chairs to face them. The closer man bowed slightly. "Forgive our intrusion," he said in a heavily accented voice. His salt and pepper hair was cropped short and he had a carefully trimmed mustache. "I am Captain Sándor Szendrey and this is my assistant Lieutenant Károly Lovász. We spoke on the phone."

Jane nodded and crossed her arms, clearly waiting them out. Szendrey waved Lovász forward.

"We have new information," Lovász said, his voice deep and gravelly. "It leads us to believe that Doctor Farkas may have been brought to London. We are now working in concert with Interpol to continue the search here. We understand there may have been a satchel?"

The three women looked at each other.