The Academy was in total lockdown. No one got in, no one got out, no exceptions. Every member of the staff was searching the estate inch by inch, searching for a clue as to the whereabouts of the resident Ghost. The students weren't much of a help, despite their training, seeing as during all this time they hadn't even realized that The Ghost was one of their classmates.

Back in Esmeralda's room again, Joe Solomon and the Headmistress were searching her room again, looking for something, anything at all. In frustration, Rachel dumped out a small box of hair clips, found six bobby pins with mini detonators on the ends, perfect for blowing out locks.

"…You trained your student well, Joe. Somebody could search this room for hours and never know a damned thing about the person who lived in it. There's no life in here." She said with a sigh, replacing the pins and putting the box back on the vanity table. As she did so, Mr. Solomon rummaged through the closet, his gaze taking in everything.

"You've seen her record, Rachel. She's an exceptional agent. But she has more life inside her than this room shows. She's a Ghost Operative, so where's her memory box?" He demanded, and Rachel lifted a brow, wondering absently if they'd get any luck with that smudged partial print on the window pane.

"Having something like that is against protocol. Surely you taught her that." He shook his head impatiently, pushing aside a row of shirts to reach the back of the closet.

"Yes, of course, but most every G.O. has one somewhere. They'd be her visual memory aids for the information files in her head. Not once have I ever seen what she does with the items she retrieves for extra credit. And then there's this." He pulled a box out of the closet, angled it so Rachel could see inside. In the simple cardboard box were about a dozen disposable cameras.

"If she doesn't have a memory box, she wouldn't have all the cameras for the visual aid pictures. So where is it? Where's her box?" He demanded, not expecting an answer. It was possible, quite possible that something from that memory box, a picture of a face, a place, anything, could lead them to where she was. He didn't believe, not for a second, that she'd taken off on her own. Esmeralda Medinas was loyal right down to the bone marrow. If she'd left, it hadn't been willingly.

Setting the box of cameras on the bed, he looked in the closet again, and was reminded of just how much his star pupil blended in. There were exactly three school uniforms hanging neatly, three pairs of flats in clear plastic containers. Hanging from hooks were three black hats, and on a shelf, folded neatly, were two pairs of black pants and two black tee shirts. That meant, seeing as he knew Esmeralda would've been dressed for a mission, that she was currently-or at least had been-wearing black pants and a black tee shirt. Not that that meant much, but it was a solid fact that he could grasp for the moment.

"Now that is a very dull wardrobe, Joseph. She has your fashion sense, then." Rachel remarked, peeking over his shoulder into the closet, and he shook his head, pushing aside the uniforms to the row of shelves on the right hand side of the closet.

"When she needs something else to wear, she finds something in the school wardrobe room that will suit. She knows how to do her job, Rachel." He said mildly, automatically defending his student.

"I don't doubt her, Joe. I was simply making an observation. I must confess, I mostly left her training in your hands. I got her progress reports, of course, but beyond that…She must be quite skilled, for me to have not registered her existence. You did a good job with her, Joe. So she won't be easy to beat, or to hold onto if someone has indeed taken her from school grounds. We'll get her back."

Mr. Solomon didn't reply, merely nodding once before he shut the closet door, moving on to search under the bed. Never knowing that a hundred feet below him, deep in the school's foundation, the student who slept in the bed she was searching was tied to a table while a strange man rifled through the memories she wasn't supposed to have.