Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

"Full-scale white slave trade with imported girls from Eastern Europe, Asia, Africa… flanked by a sophisticated system of money laundry…not bad. Dude's a pro." Guerrero showed them a map of the world on the conference room monitors, arrows indicating what went where – money, women, gold and diamonds. Barter was not uncommon in Jenning's circles. Harder to follow.

"But nothing of that gives us any clue what Michele has to do with this shit or where he might be hiding her!" Winston threw down his pen in frustration. "Those red dots are relay stations, right? Where they keep the women till they're broken enough for work. She could be at any of those or somewhere completely different! It's a needle in a haystack!"

Winston felt himself tumbling down yesterday's abyss again. Somewhere inside of him that feathered snake awoke once more that told him to stop bullshitting himself and simply give up. They'd never find her.

Across the table Chance and Guerrero glanced at each other. "I did call him", Chance grumbled.

"Desperate times, desperate measures, dude…"

"Call whom?", Ilsa demanded to know.

Ames thoughtfully studied Chance, who was staring intensely at the shiny surface of the conference table. He looked frustrated. What could make him…? Oh…

"You called Joubert?", she asked.

The shock made Winston actually snap out of his downward spiral. "Seriously? You asked him for help?"

Ilsa looked just as stunned. Last time the Old Man and Baptiste had been around, Ash had called them in. At other occasions, they had come on their own. Never ever had Chance made contact first. Actively asking the Old Man for help… it was a big thing.

"He should be here any minute", Chance mumbled, his eyes resting on Winston. I won't let you down. No matter what it takes.

"I'm not sure I understand…" Ilsa. To be honest, she was not so much not understanding but actually being pretty pissed with Guerrero. How dare he not mentioning this to her?

"When the Old Man initially made contact with Ash, Chance and he came to an agreement. No assassinations anymore, but other jobs are okay as long as nobody gets killed on purpose", Guerrero explained.

"So he got involved in girl trafficking and you were okay with that?" Ames couldn't believe it. Chance quickly threw his hands up in defense:

"Joubert and Baptiste handle the security side of the money laundry part."

Both Ames and Ilsa made disgruntled snorting noises – as if that made anything better… all those red dots on Guerrero's maps – they represented places of unfathomable pain, despair, sorrow… Just then the security system alerted them to the men in question's arrival.

… … …

"We've been doing security at several stash houses for drugs, but never at places where they keep livestock."

Joubert shook his head in an oddly innocent gesture.

"Neither heard nor seen anything of a hostage. Jenning's organization is part of a larger conglomerate with its fingers in practically everything from weapon trade over illegal waste disposal to the smuggling of exotic animals. That conglomerate is in uproar at the moment – someone tried to kill the Basil, the conglomerate's commander-in-chief."

"The Basil?" Winston frowned. "What kind of a gangster name is that?"

"Not the potherb, America's Master Gardener. "Basileus" is the title of the ancient Byzantine king."

At Guerrero's lecturing tone Winston puffed himself up and for a moment things were back to what they had been like before the unthinkable had happened and Michele had been taken away with Winston watching helplessly. But then Guerrero showed them a blurred black and white photo of a man in his fifties while Joubert continued explaining and reality set in again with all its might.

"Question who did it is quite decisive for everyone's future. The Basil wants to know who of his loyal supporters tried to take a shortcut to the throne. Same goes for the loyal supporters – they're all waiting for the Basil to bite the dust, but so far the iron rule was, nobody helps him along."

Joubert pointed at the map of the world. "System like that is way too vulnerable. Infighting would kill it off. They're not dumb, they know they have to wait. All except one, that is. We've been hired by the Basil to figure out who couldn't keep his fingers out of the cookie jar."

So he and Baptiste had a vital interest to help out, Ilsa realized. That explained a lot.

"Jennings shown up on your radar yet?"

Underneath the conference room table, Ames put a hand on Chance's knee. She heard the edge in his voice well.

"Working through the ranks is quite tedious stuff." Baptiste explained, shaking his head . "Had a couple of heart-to-hearts with some underlings, but nothing came out of it."

Footsteps on the stairs distracted everyone's attention for a moment. Ash, packed holdall in hand, was coming down to the lobby. This late at night? Slightly awkward smile on his face, he greeted his family. "Mom just came back home. She's picking me up, field trip early tomorrow morning, she'll chaperone… trying to make a good impression at the new school..." Deliberately remaining in the shadows of the dimly lit office, he stopped at the foot of the stairs.

Joubert, of course, knew immediately that something was up. "Come here, son. Want to see your face when you're talking to me."

Ash stepped into the light, revealing the bruise on his cheek.

"Care to explain?" The tone Joubert used made rather clear that that was a rhetorical question.

Guerrero's cell phone signaled, momentarily breaking the awkward silence stretching between the boy and the Old Man. He checked the display, raised an eyebrow and started working on the computer.

Ash explained the situation.

More awkward silence.

Then Joubert took a deep breath. "So you're letting your team down?"

Ash's answer came a lot faster than Chance had expected: "I made a mistake. I'm going to make up for it."

"By making an even bigger mistake?" Joubert's voice grew louder.

Ash took a step back and looked his grandfather up and down, as if he had never seen him before. Chance recognized the expression on his face – confusion, mixed with the vague feeling that something here just wasn't right.

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Your team depends on you. They need you. By joining in, you made a promise. How dare you break that promise?" Joubert's voice had turned into a low growl, cutting deep through the boy's defenses.

Chance knew exactly how that felt.

"Andrew is in hospital because of me."

"And you think this'll get any better by costing your team the finals? That boy had no business provoking you. He got what he deserved."

Chance felt his face burn as if he had been slapped. Listening to the Old Man's poison he was travelling back in time, ten, twelve years, to the period after he had been told that he was supposed to take over the family business one day… when he had been helplessly watching things slipping away, getting lost in conflict after conflict with the Old Man and more and more breakdowns in civility.

Once upon a time Joubert had been the closest thing to a father Chance had ever had. Losing his connection to him had been a painful, tediously prolonged process, and now his son was starting down the same road.

"I don't give a damn what you say." Ash's voice was not as cold as Joubert's, but he was obviously heading in that direction.

Okay…

Maybe it was because in the last few weeks Ash had been through quite a lot, dead dog, expulsion from school, getting raked over the coals by Christina and all… anyway, apparently he was not in for prolonged, painful and tedious.

"Who do you think you are? I made a decision and I'm gonna stick with it. There's no gray zone in this. Either you're with me or not."

The security system alerted them to Philippa's arrival. Ash angrily turned on his heels and stomped off, disappearing into the elevator to meet his mother downstairs.

The team sat in stunned silence.

"Quite determined, once he's made up his mind, isn't he?", Guerrero finally spoke up, approvingly, but with a hint of something else in his voice. The boy was quite a severe judge, hard on himself… and on others? No gray zone….

"The stash houses you've been doing security for, any of them fallen out of the schedule lately?", he asked Joubert.