"Please check it again," Mrs. Frederic said.

Claudia frowned at her laptop. "Third check of the motion sensors network shows two people on the main floor of the Warehouse. Your path from the office to the Escher Vault to the Ovoid Quarantine is accounted for. My path from the office is accounted for. As far as the sensors can see, we're the only ones moving around in the Warehouse."

"You have worked on all the recent security upgrades," Mrs. Frederic said. "Theoretically, could someone walk around and not be detected?"

"The sensors don't cover every square foot of the main floor," Claudia said, "because the wonder is endless, practically. So yes, somebody could sneak around if he really wanted to, but it would be difficult."

"If someone were going to hide inside the Warehouse, how might this be accomplished?"

"There's the camouflage aspect," Claudia said. "Avoid being seen. Or there's the sensor aspect. Avoid being detected, or avoid the sensors, or get around the sensors somehow. But I don't think someone could hang around for too long without being detected."

"I agree that it's highly unlikely," Mrs. Frederic said. But someone was following me. Someone else was there.

"For an episode of unusual activity," Claudia said, "wouldn't one of the artifacts be our prime suspect?"

"Of course, an artifact would be the most likely source," Mrs. Frederic said. "But no Artifact Disturbance alerts have been detected, have they?"

Claudia shook her head.

"I'm certain I saw a human-sized figure. I saw someone walking into an aisle of shelves." Mrs. Frederic adjusted her glasses. "Prior to that, I felt, or rather, I sensed someone was following me. I got the distinct feeling I was being watched."

"You mean, you got a bad vibe?" Claudia asked, wide-eyed. "Like Pete gets bad vibes?"

"Perhaps there is some similarity. My vibes, as you call them, are mainly in relation to the Warehouse and its safety, its well-being."

Claudia glanced around. "Do you still have that feeling, that we're being watched?"

Mrs. Frederic thought a moment, and felt slightly relieved at her own answer. "No, not since we left the main floor and came inside."

"So we're OK for now." Claudia looked up at the purple lights and the fabric ceiling. "Maybe we're covered, literally." She shrugged. "So what do you want me to do next? Run an inventory search on suspicious artifacts?"

Mrs. Frederic glanced at the boxes on her inventory pushcart. "No, we must concentrate on our imminent crisis. We know Walter Sykes intends to bring his Artifact-Bomb into Warehouse 13." She resisted the urge to touch the Pocketwatch Artifact she carried in her suit jacket. "We must finish our preparations. We cannot afford to run out of time."

Just off the main concourse of the Vancouver Airport, Myka sat with her laptop, reading the files. She noticed in her peripheral vision that Pete approached her.

He held out a plastic shopping bag. "Paper and Post-It Notes, as requested." Pete stood next to her.

"Thank you." Myka took the bag from him. "The paper will help me get organized."

"What would really help you," he said, "is for you to eat something."

Still reading her laptop screen, Myka shook her head. "No appetite. I'm too stressed."

Pete opened his pizza box and held it out to her, revealing one remaining slice. "Here, eat this piece. You need protein."

"That is a big slice of carbohydrates," she said.

"With yummy protein pieces on the top," he said. "Eat, please."

She picked up the pizza and ate while Pete put the box into the nearest trashcan.

He sat down next to her. "Artie couldn't reach you, so he called my phone to give us an update."

Myka nodded. "I was on the Farnsworth with Leena. She got us the files on Sykes and Collodi, and part of MacPherson's file, too."

"Eat the rest of your pizza," he said, "while I tell you the mostly good news."

Myka frowned slightly, closed her laptop, and ate the last few bites.

"The good news," Pete said, "is that we're booked on the first flight out of here to Hong Kong. But instead of our private plane, Artie had to put us onto a commercial flight." From his jacket, he retrieved the paper tickets. "We're good to go."

She held out her hand for the tickets. "Commercial?"

"Yeah," he said. "The private flight would have been great. More elbow room for me, more legroom for you. But at least Artie got us two seats in first class."

Myka studied the airline ticket and gasped. Oh, no. She reread the flight information. Not again. Tears came to her eyes.

"What?" Pete asked. "We'll be on our way, soon. Our plane will be the first in line to take off."

"Our flight," she said, as she pointed at the ticket, "is the same flight, and the same departure time, as before." She cleared her throat. "We'll catch up to Helena, and to Sykes, with no time to spare. We're repeating the events of the previous timeline."

Blasted airplane, Helena thought. She stood still against the wall, where she had positioned herself behind the cabin door. If this were a train, I would be free by now and having tea. Waiting in silence, she strained to hear any noise beyond the cabin.

Finally, she heard footsteps. The pilot is busy. That leaves Tyler.

The door swung open. Tyler entered the cabin and set his small armload of books into the seat nearest the door.

Right behind him, Helena shut the door, grabbed him by his right arm, and twisted it behind him, forcing him to stand still.

"Hey!"

"Shhh," Helena whispered urgently. "I'm trying to help you, but you must listen. When the airplane lands in Hong Kong, as soon as you get the chance, you must run away from Mr. Sykes."

"Let me go," he said.

"Not until you listen," she said. "This journey with Sykes will be dangerous, and probably fatal. Do you understand me? When we get to Hong Kong, you must run away."

"But Mr. Sykes is paying me to work for him," he said half-heartedly. "I'm not gonna run away before I get my big paycheck. That would be stupid."

Foolish boy who cannot see his employer will most likely be his murderer.

Tyler tried to pull away, but she held him firmly by his arm.

"I would rather die than work for Sykes," she said. "Those people he wants to kill? I will do whatever I can to protect them."

"That's not my problem," he said. "Let me go."

"All I want from you are the names of those files. How are they identified, or labeled?" She tugged slightly on his bent arm. "Tell me, quickly, what's in those files?"

Tyler squirmed with discomfort. "Somebody's file with a codename like yours."

"How is it like mine?"

"A mythology name. Yours was Atlas-66. This person's file is labeled Odysseus-74."

Helena frowned in thought. "And the name of the other file?"

"Background information, about another antique Mr. Sykes wants for his collection."

"An artifact?"

"Some really old compass he wanted to buy from his antique dealer."

Collecting artifacts? Buying them from a dealer? she thought. "What was the dealer's name?"

"An old man Mr. Sykes knew, from way back. MacPherson."

MacPherson. A feeling of dread came over her. When MacPherson stole those artifacts, and stole me, from Warehouse 13, he sold the artifacts to Walter Sykes.

Helena let go of Tyler's arm and stepped away from him. But that was more than two years ago. Sykes is still collecting artifacts on his own. Something in Hong Kong must be next on his list of acquisitions. Or someone.

Tyler rubbed his upper arm and turned around to glare at her.

Suddenly the cabin door flew open.

Helena saw Tyler's limbs light up with the artifact energy from the DeMille Crop.

Tyler's fist swung toward her body and punched Helena in the stomach. The hard blow knocked her to the floor and left her gasping for air.

"No," Tyler shouted. "Mr. Sykes, stop."

Helena looked up to see Tyler's glowing arm raised to strike again.

She heard Sykes's voice behind them, through the open cabin door. "I warned you," he said. "Leave Tyler alone. You need to get back to work on your chess skills."

Still glowing with the artifact's energy, Tyler walked out of the cabin, closing the door behind him.

Helena lay in the floor, trying to catch her breath. Struggling against the dizziness and pain, grim memories came to mind of the swift murder of Steve, and of his lifeless body. Like that young man, I am expendable to Walter Sykes.

She tried to take a deep breath. After this mysterious errand to Hong Kong is completed, I will be dead.