Sorry for the short chap. More later--I promise!

Please see disclaimers in Ch. 1.

In a high glass office, a slender man sat facing a gigantic night landscape. The soft lights that illuminated the small lot beneath him cast a glow over a wide swath of dark forest that sat silently to one side of the massive complex. It had taken some doing to get the site up and running again, what with the damage caused by the last occupants, but then, a steady flow of cash always seemed to get the job done—and fast.

The man stared out, the sight of the night sky calming to him. For a moment, he let his mind wander to other matters.

Where are you, little one? the man thought, his focus now on a particular woman with bright green eyes and dark hair. Where on earth are you hiding? You couldn't have just disappeared…not like your 'friends' seem to have done…

The whole thing was peculiar, and did not set well with the man at all. It had taken months to plan out that little charade over in Roanoke, Virginia; had taken time and planning to find a suitable 'go-between' and, if need be, 'fall guy' should things not manifest themselves as the slender man would like. An ambitious man with little scruples usually fit the bill, and this Adlington was doing nicely.

That is, until his 'targets' escaped. The man knew that the green-eyed woman, one of his 'true' targets, had managed to circumvent him.

How does she do it? he wondered. How can she just vanish into thin air, and take seven people with her?

He'd thought about taking a harder look at some of her allies, but the documentation on them was few and far between. Between her file and the young man she'd just hired, there was about enough available information on paper to fill a napkin.

The information he gathered through 'other means,' however, was somewhat more promising. He already had reams of valuable background on his prizes, and was prepared to use it to destroy them all.

That is, once he found them…

Kyle sat at a large, round wooden table, trying to swallow the strong coffee that Josh kept on hand. He liked coffee, but this stuff was enough to knock the wind out of a herd of walruses.

He made a little bit of a face, and set the mug aside.

"You do not like?" Josh asked, making sure to look at his guest. He'd been trying to pick up a few of the 'signs' that the younger man spoke in, especially for such times as this.

Kyle shook his head, then mimed trying to break an iron bar. "Strong," he managed to say.

"Eh." Josh took a long pull from his own cup. "Amereecan coffee…phooey," the older man said, brushing an imaginary bother away from him.

Kyle pulled out a pad of paper. He knew Josh's sign was extremely limited, and his own voice was terrible. Adlington's getting close, he wrote.

--Yes. This I know. The man won't give up easily.

I think he might come after us, hard.

--If he hasn't already. Small man, big aspirations, that one.

I'm serious, Josh. I had to kill five computers today, just to hide our files. I wouldn't be surprised if he's got techs over in Quantico tracing our messages, phone calls, emails…

--We have a man on the inside there…a man named Lynch…

I've heard of him. Garcia vouches for him. He smiled.

--A good man. Little strange though. Ah well.

What worries me is that both Chase and Oliver are MIA, our clients are nowhere to be found, and now I can't even contact the few people we've got out looking over the team's families and whatnot. And then there's our other guy…

--You have communication problems?

My computers are fried. My backups are locked in a vault in Campbell. I can't use a phone, obviously, and I can't get anyone to use one for me without raising suspicions. Plus, I'm betting all of our phones are tapped—yours, mine, Will's, Mo's…

--They've been pulling records, Lynch says. Of phone calls, I think.

Good luck to them. Our phones use scramblers. It'll look like we've been calling somewhere in Siberia or Mongolia or an island chain in the Pacific…

--And your lawyer friend?

I think his goes through China, but…

--Can you be sure?

I can ask. If I send an email to him, it shouldn't look too suspicious.

--Here, use mine. Josh handed the younger man a small laptop.

Kyle quickly logged on, set a few 'extra' firewalls, and then sent a letter over to the consulate.

Mo—

Lost your number. Need to get it back. Please write.

Kyle Parker.

He looked up, satisfied, and then hit 'send.' That ought to work, he wrote. Nothing too suspicious.

--Let's hope so. Now, where are you staying?

I can crash at one of the team's places, I think…

--Bah. You will stay here, until things, how you say? Bowl over?

Blow over.

--Yes. That.

Josh, I can't ask…

A thick arm stopped the pen from finishing. "I will do this," he said. "Whatever it takes to help those people, and Oliver. I trust you would do the same for Miss Davis?"

Can you talk to Will, and Mo, and tell them what's going on?

Josh nodded. I can send a letter. Does this 'Mo' speak French?

I think so. Maybe. Worth a shot.

--Very good. Now, how to word…

Mo Li began checking into the consulate office by email some three weeks ago. Now that his 'clients' were all staying under one roof, it wasn't necessary to go back into town to gather his information.

"What about appearances?" the team's 'head of house,' Agent Hotchner, asked. "Won't it look a little strange that the lawyer for the accused is not looking more actively for his 'missing' clients?"

"Oh, I send notices to the local law enforcement four times a week. I also call them twice a week. By now they're pretty sick of hearing from me, I can bet."

The older man didn't look convinced. It was little wonder that Chase likened him to a 'statue' at times.

"Sir, by all appearances I am really 'doing what I can,' save beating the bushes for you myself. With you 'gone,' there really isn't much for me to do. Now, were you miraculously 'found,' then I'd be more active."

"It just seems like we're getting nowhere, and it seems strange that no one's been out here to ask questions."

"Ah, you're forgetting diplomatic immunity."

"Oh. Of course."

Both men knew, as lawyers, that diplomats and their families had immunity from prosecution—a 'perk' of the job. No one had been out to question the Li's because the American government didn't want to ruffle any Chinese feathers.

"I'm sure I'll be 'asked' to take part in a questioning, though. And go I must—though I have immunity, I must look like I am trying to cooperate."

"Because if you don't, it'll look like you're hiding something."

"It's a fine line we tread, Agent Hotchner."

"I'm beginning to see why she like you."

"Well, our relationship has always just been friendly, sir," Mo replied. "But she fascinates me, too."

"I just hope her luck holds out," Hotch said. "We still have no solid evidence…"

"Maybe something will pan…" Mo stopped as he opened his email. "Huh. Why would Kyle Parker send me this?"

"Would he have your number, normally?"

"Yes. It's in his files…unless…"

Both men looked at each other. Was this a trap?

The next morning Mo called into the consulate, looking for the origin of the email that he'd opened at the estate the night before. One of the Chinese techs, a man called Ping, replied that the IP address was registered to a Joshua Hollenbeck, and listed his address.

"Can you be sure?" Mo asked.

"Yes. I can track a masking program. There wasn't anything hiding this."

Mo nodded, then thanked the man. He picked up the phone and called Josh, remembering to be careful what he said over the line.

"'ollenbeck."

"Josh, it's Mo Li. I got your letter."

"You have time for lunch?"

Mo checked his watch. It was nine-thirty in the morning. "Yeah, say in two hours?"

"Ce'st bon. Name your place."

Mo chose a place not a block from the consulate. Should things get strange, they could seek refuge inside the protected building down the street.

"Very well. Two 'ours." The line went dead.