**Buenos Aires, Argentina, May 12th, 1976 5:20 P.M.**

"Yes, yes," William's said into the walkie-talkie. "Yes, I know. I'm taking care of it." Some more garbled speech came over the walkie-talkie, un-intelligible to those not listening carefully enough or who were not standing closely enough. After a brief scan, he found his target. A rock marked with that freaky sign that seemed to be popping up everywhere. "I think I found the cave, master," he said into the walkie-talkie. Slowly but carefully, he pulled out a shovel and started to dig. It wasn't long until he found the opening, and started to climb down the ladder.

"Nobody can know what this is…" he said to himself.

"Nobody can know where this is…" he said to himself

"But they will, Mr. Vaughn. But they will. Nobody can hide me," a mysterious voice seemed to come out of nowhere

"Leave me alone!" Vaughn cried. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

While weeping, he hurried down the ladder. With a rather large book in his hand, he took each rung one at a time, until he was finally at the floor.

"Thanks again, master, for making this cave," he said with complete calm in his voice back through the walkie-talkie.

"Which one of your masters made it, though?" That voice wouldn't leave him alone.

"Damn you!" he screamed to no one in particular, but the omnipresent voice left him alone. "You want your book?" Will cried. "Come get it!" And with that, he put it on a pedestal, drenched it in gasoline, and set a match on it. "Let them try to bring you back now!"

Laughing maniacally, he left the tomb.

The book didn't burn

**Buenos Aires, Argentina, May 13th, 1976 3:38 P.M.**

In an airport, a young woman sat knitting. Michael couldn't help but smile and wink at her as he passed by her bench. She returned both gestures, and continued her knitting. As he past by her, a 40-year-old Arvin Sloane sat down next to her. While appearing to read a newspaper article about the baseball game from the previous night, he held a conversation with the knitting Irina Derevko.

"The CIA didn't sanction this mission, you know." Sloane started

"Obviously," she said. "I wouldn't have noticed that if you didn't tell me for the past week." All the while, she was knitting.

Knitting

Still knitting.

"So, who's been added to the registry today?" Sloane asked

"Two men. The first down will have to be Jack Bristow, as soon as he's released from solitary. After him, next to go is William Vaughn."

She stood up, and revealed in her knitting was a rose. If one looked closer, they would realize that every 10th line was actually coded words. At the very base of the bloom, "W. Vaughn" was written in a series of colors.

"Good luck, mademoiselle Defarge," Sloane said under his breath, and he too left the airport.