The sun continued to beat down on the hot concrete sidewalk as Makarov walked down it, keeping a brisk, constant pace. He was already anxious when he had heard that Anatoly had gotten a solid lead, one that would lead them somewhere. Somewhere towards the Patriot.

David Locke. That was the name. Age 34. Height six foot one, weight 180 pounds. Currently living under a false name in the Moscow city limits. Currently suspected in terrorists acts against the general populace. Suspected in being a member of the United Sovereign States of America.

It was just as he was hoping. A lone member that had been found by the police, but was still out of custody. The police would have to get approval by a judge to get a warrant for his arrest, something that would take time. Time he would use to get what he wanted before the police did.

It was a start, but one he needed if he was ever to find his sister. It would take time, effort and continuous work, but he would find her in the end, and succeed.

And it would all start, with an American by the name of David Locke.

Makarov continued to walk until he came across a familiar figure, leaning against a light post, reading the paper. He looked up when he recognized Makarov approach, and a bright grin appeared on his face.

"Hey!" Anatoly greeted, folding up his paper. "Makarov, the-

"Don't say my name!" Makarov hissed, cutting Anatoly off. "What good is it going to do me if you call me that?"

Anatoly scratched his head. "Sorry, 'Vasily'."

Makarov nodded and sighed. "We need to be careful. I don't think anyone's been following me now for at least two days, but I'm not going to take any chances. And neither are you. Understand?"

Anatoly gave a calm smile. "Sure thing, 'Yuri'."

"Right..." Makarov started, crossing his arms. "Wheres Locke?"

Anatoly glanced up to the towering apartment sitting just behind them. "There. Room 542. Fifth floor."

"And your sure hes here?"

Anatoly nodded. "I've been watching everyone come in and out just like you said, and Locke hasn't appeared."

"Good, then lets go and pay him a visit." Makarov said, clutching his M9 in his pocket. "We'll get what we need and get the hell out of there."

"Maka-, I mean Yuri, what exactly are we looking for?" Anatoly asked, starting to head to the apartment entrance.

Makarov gave a sly smile. "We're looking for a Patriot..."

Camera flashes and other sounds of nearby police continued all around him as Sedusky examined the scene in front of him. He was standing in a rundown apartment, studying the room, now transformed into a homicide crime scene.

Blood stained the floor and wall, the red crimson coming from a middle aged man now laying on the ground, a bullet hole now visible just above his right eye.

Mikhail Nanko. A synthetic analyzer for some big chemical research company under government contract. Just another average citizen living in the city, or so Sedusky thought when he had read Nanko's file.

The man wasn't just a synthetic analyzer, his apartment told him that much. Wires and cables littered the ground, with tools and electronics littering the ground. Primers and triggers, unstable chemicals and other miscellaneous items, all towards one purpose.

Nanko wasn't just a scientist, but a chemical arms maker. The question now was, who was he supplying, and who was his killer...

"Quite something huh?" Cecile said, standing beside him.

Sedusky nodded. "The guy has enough stuff here to build and supply a small arms group..."

"Appears so." Cecile replied, examining a set of soldering tools sitting on a nearby table. "Looks like he was desperate for the money."

"And someone else too." Sedusky said, looking down at Mikhail's body. "Probably why he was murdered."

"Well, we don't know that for sure, but we found something that might help answer that..."

Sedusky raised his eyebrow. "Evidence?"

Cecile nodded and held up a small clear plastic bag. "We found this before you got here."

Sedusky gingerly took the bag and studied the item inside. It was only a small card, somewhat of business card of something you would leave a contact if you needed to be called back. But there was no phone number, just a name and two other words.

"Karl?" Sedusky said, studying the card. "Yellow Lust? Whats that?"

"We're looking into it." Cecile explained. "But that's not the big thing."

"Then what is?"

"We found fingerprints on the card." Cecile said, smiling to herself. "And since Mikhail Nanko lived alone and the're not his, its a good chance they're the killer's."

"Excellent!" Sedusky exclaimed. "Then the killer should be good as caught. When can we find out who this print belongs to?"

"When you give me it back..." Cecile said, snatching the card out of his hands. "...And when I send it to forensics."

Sedusky smiled. "Right..."

The cell phone is his pocket went off and he reached for it, flipping it open. His eyes narrowed and gave a small sigh of displeasure as he found out who was calling him.

"Sorry, I have to go." Sedusky said, giving Cecile a small wave and heading to the door. This is kind of important..."

Cecile crossed her arms and gave him a skeptical look. "And this isn't?"

Sedusky just smiled. "I'll see you later Cecile..."

As much as he wanted to not to admit it, this was important to him. And probably the rest of the world as well.

There was only the faint sounds of cars driving overhead and the news playing on the television as Webb sat silently at small kitchen table, staring out into space. Miller was in his room, doing his work, leaving him with his thoughts.

Chloe was right. Miller didn't know restraint. It probably was just one big game of excitement to him. That's all it was to him.

"You okay?" Chloe asked, sitting on the couch. "You haven't said a word since you got back."

"You haven't touch your oatmeal either..." Clay added, staring at the t.v, watching the news.

Webb looked at the brownish mash in front of him. "Yeah..."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his blood meter. He gave himself a small prick to check his blood sugar, and found it was slightly below. He popped a small sugar tablet into his mouth and put the two back into his pocket. Diabetes was one thing, but Nathaniel Miller was a completely different story.

Why did he even safe him? Was it because they were on the same side, brothers in arms working together to a common goal? Or was it simply because he was his superior, and it was his job to follow his orders, no matter what they were...

It didn't matter now anyway. What was done was done. Miller was the killer, and Webb was only trying to prevent an unessential death. Some effort that was...

But at least he had found one more thing, something that could lead him and Clay further.

"Karl..." Webb thought, thinking back to the card he found. "Yellow Lust..."

Now with Mikhail Nanko dead, it seemed those three words were now the only things he could follow.

Makarov silently walked to the apartment door marked 542, Anatoly just close behind. He pulled out his pistol and listened on the other side of the door, trying to hear footsteps or any sounds that would tell if anyone was home or not.

"I don't hear anything." Makarov whispered, his ear on the door. "Could be sleeping or reading."

"Either way, no one came out." Anatoly said quietly. "He's in there."

Makarov gently tried the door. "Locked...Such a surprise..."

"I got it." Anatoly said, pulling out a pair of lockpicks. "Anya thought me how to do this a few months back."

Makarov watched as Anatoly played with the locked, picking at it and trying to force the lock open. He seemed to have a much harder time doing it then Anya had, but Makarov had no experience in lock picking, so he wasn't about to criticize.

It only took about a minute before a small click told both of them that they were in.

"Lets go." Makarov said quietly, bringing his M9 up. "Silent and swift. Knock him out and subdue him before he gets a chance to move. We don't want to cause an uproar."

Anatoly silently nodded and brought his own pistol up. Makarov put his hand on the doorknob.

"On my go." Makarov said." 3, 2, 1.."

Makarov flung the door open. "Go."

The two quickly entered through the door and into the small apartment. They quickly checked every area around them, watching for any signs of movement. Makarov went through the kitchen. Clear. Anatoly took the small hallway leading to the bedroom and the bathroom. Clear. The two swepted through the rest of the apartment and met up in the middle of the living room. Also clear.

Makarov scanned the room, trying to see what they missed. "Where the hell is he! Is he hiding!"

"Anatoly, close the door and lock it." Makarov ordered, pacing around the room. "Make sure he doesn't sneak out."

Anatoly nodded and quickly closed the door and secured the deadbolt, locking it tightly. At least Locke couldn't sneak out and escape.

Still, it didn't make any sense. Unless Anatoly had been mistaken or Locke somehow figured out the police found him, he should be here.

"Your sure he didn't walk out?" Makarov asked. "Your absolutely sure?"

"Theres only one entrance, and I watched everyone who came out." Anatoly replied. "He didn't come out."

"Then the only possibility is he didn't come back to the apartment today." Makarov said, thinking to himself. "He must be somewhere else, he just didn't come back here."

"So now what?"

"We wait for him to come back." Makarov replied. "Until then, lets look around. You got gloves?"

Anatoly nodded and pull out two pairs of black gloves from his pocket, throwing a pair to Makarov. No need to leave fingerprints if the police search the place.

Makarov started in the living room. Simple and clean. Just and sofa and small T.V. A small coffee table littered with different magazines sat in front of it.

"Search the bedroom." Makarov ordered, leaning down at the magazines. Something wasn't right here.

He reached down and looked at the magazines, looking at the dates.

"Theses are all today's magazines..." Makarov thought, panning through the magazines. "How are theses here if Locke hasn't even set foot in here today?..."

"Nothing in the bedroom!" Anatoly called. "I'll go through the closet."

"Okay..." Makarov said, still focused on the magazines. Things here were not the way they should be. They were unnatural...

"Did Locke live alone?" Makarov asked, trying to figure out why the magazines were here.

"The police file stated he lived by himself." Anatoly replied from the bedroom. "But, you never know..."

Makarov set the magazine's back down and turned his attention to the living room. His eyes focused on the sofa and couch.

"All this furniture is all new..." Makarov thought to himself, studying the couch. "Its like he moved in only yesterday..."

"How long has Locke been living here?" Makarov asked.

"About four months." Anatoly replied. "He's got a lot of nice clothes too. Pretty new too."

Today's magazines. New furniture and clothes. No Locke. Things were not right here, something else was going on.

"Anatoly were leaving now." Makarov said, heading for the door. "Get your things and lets go."

"What?"

"Were leaving now!" Makarov repeated. "Locke isn't here, he never was! Now lets get-

Makarov was cut off by the ringing of the nearby wall phone. Makarov and Anatoly stared at it carefully, both looking at each other in question.

"Should we answer it?"

Makarov said nothing and carefully reached for the phone and pick it off the hook. He slowly raised it to his ear and brought the speaker to his mouth, waiting.

A woman's voice appeared. "Hello, is this Vladimir Makarov?"

Makarov froze and his eyes opened in shock. "What! Who the hell is this!"

"Vladimir Makarov?" Makarov asked, giving a small laugh. "I'm sorry, you must have the-

"Theres really no point in hiding it." The woman said swiftly. "Theres only one person who would have broken into David Locke's apartment. You can quit hiding it."

Makarov scanned the ceiling and walls. "Is she watching me?...Are there cameras in this room?..."

"Though I can't see you right now, I already know your Makarov." The woman explained. "Only he would search the apartment of a man that doesn't even exist."

Makarov's eyes narrowed "So it was a trick...There never was a David Locke...Just as I suspected..."

"I have to say, it was almost a little to easy..." The woman said. "I never expected you to actually fall for this..."

Makarov gripped the phone. "Who is this?"

"Me?" The woman said. "No one you would know... Yet that is..."

"Yet?"

"I've been trying to figure out who you are, and what your searching for Makarov." She explained. "And thanks to you, I'll know both of them."

"I figured you were monitoring the police and also trying to find the Patriot." The woman continued, each word she aid slowly causing Makarov's anger to rise. "I used that to come up with this small trap. The bait, David Locke. The fish, Vladimir Makarov."

He heard a small laugh on the other side. "So now I know where you are, and what your looking for. Pretty easy if I don't say so myself."

Makarov gripped the phone in anger. "Who the hell are you?"

"Like I said, I doubt you would know me, but I've been currently task to find you." The woman replied. "My name is Ellien Lelend."

"Ellien Lelend?..." Makarov thought to himself. "Thats the name Elena told me about..."

"Well, I'm sure you have a lot of questions for me, and I'm just as curious to find out more about you." Ellien replied. "But you can answer all of my questions once the police have you in custody."

There was a small pause on the line. "And the police should be arriving...Right about...Now."

A loud knock came from the other side of the wooden door, causing both Makarov and Anatoly to spin over in surprise.

"Police, FSB!" A man yelled from the other side. "Open this door now!"

Makarov gripped the phone in anger "Damn her!...Who the hell does she think she is!..."

"I look forward to speaking with you soon." Ellien said calmly, causing Makarov's anger to riase.

There was a small laugh "Welcome to the real game, Makarov... "Ellien said mockingly. "Hope you know how to play..."

The phone clicked, and Ellien hung up. Leaving Makarov left in a state of mixed shock and anger.

"She is going to pay for this..."

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