Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

The hacienda.

They made their move in the dead of night.

Or, more correctly, Chance decided that they would make their move in the dead of night.

"Junior, what the hell…?" The Old Man switched on the lamp on the makeshift nightstand by his plank bed. Its dim light revealed what Joubert so far had only vaguely guessed from the pressing sensation against his skin.

A strap of cloth connected him and Baptiste who had slept on the floor right next to him.

"Don't pull at it", Chance said quietly. "You don't want to compromise your circulation. It's a grapevine knot, very hard to untie under the best of circumstances."

Baptiste snorted and it almost sounded like suppressed laughter. Years ago, following a tiny little incident with a certain six legged additive to his breakfast cereals, Guerrero had tied Junior to the bottom of a tub with a grapevine knot and turned on the faucet. If anyone knew how difficult these things were to untie, it was him.

"You get him out of here, I get the envelope from Araña's safe if any of the keys fit", Chance told Baptiste. "If not, we'll leave without it." This was directed at the Old Man who shook his head immediately and with emphasis:

"Not an option, Junior."

"It's not that you have much of a choice, have you?" Baptiste slightly tugged at the strap, reminding Joubert of his limited range.

Joubert rolled his eyes – they had once already done something like that to him, more years ago than he cared to remember. He saw Baptiste's face and knew he remembered it, too.

"Try it another time. Make her think she's safe and strike again. You used to do that all the time", Chance shrugged.

Both the Old Man's and Baptiste's faces grew dark. Yeah, used to. Before you left.

Maybe Chance didn't see it or he didn't want to see it, in any case he didn't address it. Instead he went over to the wall, removed the loose brick and got the keys out.

"We should get moving."

"Wait a sec…" Joubert bent over, looked under his bed and started making… cooing sounds.

It took Chance and Baptiste a moment before they understood he was trying to entice the rat.

"Why don't you call it by its name?", Baptiste asked.

Joubert didn't reply.

Big mistake. He should have said something, anything. Now Baptiste was curious. And not willing to let go.

He slightly tilted his head and pulled at the strap again. "What's the rat's name, mate?"

This was probably the first time ever Baptiste called the Old Man "mate".

Months and months in a Russian prison had left a certain effect on him after all...

… … …

Ilsa's jet on an airfield in the South American jungle.

"So the CIA doesn't know we're here?", Ames asked.

"According to Emma, no. She'll feed them some BS story about Chance being her undercover agent, make sure they leave him in her custody and then bring him here", Winston replied, trying to get visuals from the jet's newly installed surveillance cameras.

"I'm not sure Chance will agree with Baptiste and this Joubert being arrested…", Ilsa mused. "Otherwise he'd probably sought Agent Barnes' help from the very beginning."

"That's why Guerrero is with Emma at the hacienda. He'll keep Chance in check." Winston abruptly spun around. "Whoa, what was that?"

Ames rushed to one of the jet's windows. "An airplane just overflew us. What if that was the CIA's jet?"

"Then they know we're here…" Winston bit his lip.

… … …

CIA jet.

Guerrero threw Emma an angry glance as they crossed Ilsa's jet. Emma shrugged her shoulders, aiming at "don't worry", but whom was she fooling? This change of route was bad news. They should have never caught sight of the jet.

"Maybe they haven't seen", she told him.

"Hey, did you notice that private jet on that airfield?", a CIA agent asked his colleague.

Guerrero pulled out his mobile and sent Winston a text message.

… … …

The hacienda.

"Now that's typical!" Chance hissed. "You took the rat in, dusted it up a little, fed it, then got it to do your bidding. Fitting name."

Baptiste couldn't believe it. "Listen to you whine and bitch the whole time! Ungrateful, as usual!" He turned to the Old Man. "After all he's done, he's still your favorite…"

Red envelope or not, Joubert had enough. "Let's get out of here!" He carefully tucked Junior, the rat, in the inside of his jacket.

… … …

Araña's office.

Finding the painting wasn't difficult. And, lo and behold, one of the keys "Junior" had collected, actually seemed to fit. Chance could hardly believe his eyes. Should everything go according to plan for a change? He hesitated before inserting the tiny key into the safe's keyhole.

His doubts were reasonable.

Did Joubert really think Araña wouldn't notice one of her most important key's missing?

She had noticed.

And she had installed certain precautions to keep her safe, well, safe.

Chance turned the tiny key, the door swung open – a cloud of mist surrounded him, moistened his face and shirt before evaporating as fast as it had appeared.

Poison? Didn't feel like poison… strange…

What Chance didn't see was that at the same time the mist had appeared a trapdoor had opened in the floor right behind him. Through a complicated mechanism, a spider was transported to the surface: Rosemary, the black widow.

Now, usually this species, like all spiders, would rather flee from than attack large moving things such as humans. Unless of course the large moving thing was sprayed with a chemical that made it aggressive…

Chance however, pondered whether to take a look at the red envelope's contents or not. Whatever it contained, it had been important enough to lure the Old Man away from chasing after his book. On the other hand, did he really want to know? What for? He was here to finally finish his business with Joubert, not to start another mess.

He took the envelope without looking at it, turned around… and found himself face to face with the spider.

At this very moment, Baptiste came into the office. "I've cut the strap; Joubert is arranging our escape…" He didn't get any further. Rosemary, startled at the appearance of yet another big moving thing, darted forward.

So did Chance.

He threw himself between Baptiste and the spider, reached out to flick it away like Ilsa had done back in the hut…

…and felt the stinging pain of a spider bite on his wrist.

… … …

Ilsa's jet.

"Looks like we need a distraction", Winston told Ames after glancing at Guerrero's message.

Ilsa hardly noticed what the two were getting ready to. She was wrapped up in her own thoughts. Why had Chance gone to rescue this Joubert in the first place? From all she knew they were mortal enemies. And what about this Baptiste? She tried to concentrate on what little she knew about him from the rescue of her friend.

Slowly, very slowly, it dawned on her.

Winston and Ames started dismantling the grenade launcher.