Four kilos of cocaine, a duffle bag full of AK-47 replacement parts, three members of the Yakuza from the global watch list, and one advanced DVD copy of Sing with director commentary later, and Alison and Rachel were about ready for a break.

"I feel like a glorified UPS driver. This isn't even fun anymore." Alison stopped the DVD in their plush hotel room back in London. "How long could it possibly take to remove an itty, bitty little implant?"

Rachel sighed, also getting bored. The last week of criminal activities were usually their cure for months of bureaucratic boredom, and now the distractions themselves had become boring.

"Let's go back." Alison said, with Rachel knowing full well what she meant.

Give up the escape. Go back to their government posts. Turn in the source material. Spend ten months desk jockeying until the opportunity for a trip turns up, and then run amuck for a month across the globe.

It was getting less and less fulfilling each time, even though their arrangement allowed them ample salaries to do with as they pleased, as well as the ability to engage in nearly any activity they would so choose short of murder with nearly zero repercussions.

It was fun at first. So much fun—exciting, especially for the generally fearless pair. And now, the globe-trotting was as tiring as the desk job.

Something had to change.

Delphine hadn't quite recovered from the second surgery, and although she was assured it was minor, the fact that each time they performed it they had to sedate her and then insert the surgical instruments up her nasal cavity led to an unpleasant wake-up experience, even with the pain killers.

However, she had recovered enough to be blindingly angry at the news a second time.

"What do you mean, you still can't find it? How hard can it be? I have a micro-movie studio implanted up there!"

Cosima hung back behind the doctors, knowing full well she was not going to be able to calm Delphine down, preferring to wait out the storm.

"We're sorry, Ms. Cormier. You have to understand it doesn't show up on the scans. We're basically going in blind based on your descriptions of where you felt the chip activate. Even when we use the micro-cam, we don't see it." The doctor seemed genuinely sorry, but knew to keep his distance from the irate woman.

"Delphine," Mrs. Sadler intervened, "are you one-hundred and twenty percent certain that you were implanted with the R607 chip?" The forceful Irishwoman was uncharacteristically gentle in her approach.

"Yes. This isn't a gray area. I went in for a surgery. They taught me how to turn it on. I used it, and they took me in for data extraction. Then I never used it again."

"And you've never felt it activate since?" Mrs. S. fished, having had very concrete evidence presented to her months before orchestrating the conference that the R607 chips were indeed being activated by remote satellite whenever the American, Canadian, U.K., French, German, and Norwegian governments requested it. Several other countries knew of the project and would buy information from the primary governments of ownership, creating a global network if involuntary spies.

"No, never. It's not a feeling you would forget."

"Think very carefully, Delphine. Did they possibly remove it after extracting the recording from the one time you did activate?"

Delphine's knee-jerk reaction was to bark "No!" and continue huffing, but she did take the time to review the extraction process.

A brightly-lit room, with a reclining chair not unlike visiting a dentist. A heavy pair of goggles that to her had looked like ordinary virtual reality head gear placed over the eyes. Then the feeling of a tight pinch at the bridge of the nose, followed by dizziness and ringing in the ears. After ten seconds or so, the goggles were removed, immediately ending the spinning feeling.

No physical marks of an incision. No evidence that anything had been implanted or removed. And certainly nothing inserted up the nasal cavity.

"I am sure. I was awake for the entire thing, even though I didn't feel well."

Siobhan sighed. She believed that Delphine was a perfect candidate for the program, given her expertise in certain areas, who her job would gravitate her towards, and her known preference for one-on-one or small group meetings rather than being placed in front of a large crowd. But the absence of a chip was making it difficult to believe.

"What about the other option?" Cosima chimed in from the background. "You said you had the option of removal, or enhancing to block out any activation signal. What about the second option?"

"How are they supposed to do that if they don't even know where it is in my body?" Dephine's mind started to race. What if the chip had somehow travelled deeper into her brain? What if it was so high technology that it couldn't be seen even with a microscopic camera, and would never be identifiable?

"And it's never been used a second time after that first assignment. You're certain?" Mrs. S. started to sound more insistent.

"I am sure." Delphine said, lightly touching the bridge of her tender nose.

Cosima's wheels started spinning. Whatever information they could gather pertaining to the chip, they would need. Specifically, they would need the files from the original mission. Cosima walked over to Delphine's bedside, leaning over to lightly kiss the swollen nose.

"We'll figure it out. But exhausting you isn't going to help. How about we let you rest, and we'll talk more later?" Delphine nodded, the wheels in her head still spinning. She was also starting to realize that she would need to get information from the one time her chip was activated.

What was scarier was not knowing how much time she had to do so before she would be activated. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never. It was the idea of living her life not knowing that was particularly upsetting.

Cosima sat across from Mrs. Sadler in the hospital cafeteria, having the most awkward lunch of her lifetime.

The young environmental scientist couldn't help but eye the woman across from her. Mrs. Siobhan Sadler. The Siobhan Sadler. The woman who seemed to always have top-notch access to information, who always seemed to have her hand in the cookie-jar anytime there was anything of note occurring in the U.K. and sometimes even elsewhere. And yet nobody truly knew who she worked for.

But it was clear she was someone who had a lot of access, and a lot of power. And who seemed to not be interested in killing Cosima.

Probably.

Cosima decided she had no choice but to trust this woman. She didn't actually have a choice—it was either throw herself in with the wolves, or let Delphine live the rest of her life as either a slave to a microchip or in constant state of paranoia.

"How can we get access to the files on Delphine's first and only mission?"

Mrs. S. nodded at the woman.

"It seems we're on the same page."

Delphine considered the hospital line unsafe to use. She knew landlines were easy enough to tap, and who knows if Mrs. Sadler's sympathetic doctor was trustworthy and truly couldn't "find" the chip.

She had started secretly charging her cell phone, plugged in behind her bed as soon as Cosima and Mrs. Sadler left her to nap. Ten minutes was all she needed to charge up for one important phone call. Of course, she could have just asked Cosima, but she was trusting that Cosima was digging around for information from Siobhan, probably as she was dialing the memorized number on her phone. In general, she was really, really trusting that Cosima was completely on her side right now, and as sure about it as she said she was.

"Hello, Rachel? If you are still in England I could use some help."