Author's Note: Well, here is Chapter 2! Thankyou all for your kind feedback on Chapter 1; it was very encouraging!

CHAPTER 2

Martin waited downstairs for Jack, who was on the phone to his daughter Hannah's school. Apparently, there had been an accident there, but no one had been hurt. As Jack came down the stairs, he saw Martin talking on his cell phone; as he noticed Jack he appeared to wrap the call up.

"You drive," Jack told Martin as they walked to the car.

"Where are we driving to?"

"The prison where Ricky was held. I suppose you know which one it was, right?"

"Yes," Martin stated, almost defensively.

There was silence for a few seconds, before Jack turned to Martin and said, "So. You want to tell me more about Ricky, Martin?"

Martin stared ahead at the road. "What do you want to know?" he asked, angrily.

"Martin, first sign that you are impeding the investigation in any way, and you are suspended. I can't afford to have you bringing any personal issues into this. You're a good agent, but the team will make do without you if they have to – understand?"

"Yes, Jack."

"I need to know I can trust you, Martin. I need to know that you're telling me the truth. Starting from now. Understand?"

"Yes, Jack." Martin kept his eyes on the road, but there was a sincerity to this tone that won Jack over.

"OK …"

They drove on in silence.

*******************

Martin let Jack take the lead at the prison, as they talked to prison warders that had managed Ricky's wing of the prison. However, there was not much that the warders could tell them that was of interest. Ricky Hunter had kept his head down, been a quiet inmate, and caused no trouble. He had few visitors apart from his girlfriend, who he had met through another inmate he had become friends with. The inmate had died of a heroin overdose when Ricky had been in jail for three years; he had been upset, but, again, had not lashed out. His girlfriend Alison Ward was the sister of the inmate, Steven Ward. There was no record of any visits, letters, or phone calls to any family members, and no contact with Craig Styles.

"So," Jack said, as they got in the car and left the prison, "you know anything about his family?"

"Parents dead. One sister – married and living in France," Martin answered shortly.

"When did his parents die?"

"Before I met him. He never talked about it." Martin took refuge in a small lie. Ricky had talked about it – in his sleep. Martin had been woken up more than once by Ricky's nightmares caused by the trauma he had suffered as a 13 year old, witnessing the accident that claimed his mother's life and the disintigration of his father. Martin really didn't want to talk about this. He would chase down any lead, coax the truth out of any witness, but … now he understood why people could capitulate so quickly when Jack questioned them.

"Right."

So Jack doesn't believe me … Martin thought, then mentally shrugged. He didn't really care, by that point. He was dog-tired, and looked it. The shock had worn off now.

Jack noticed Martin's drooping head. "Martin!" He watched Martin jerk back to consciousness. "Get out of the driver's seat," Jack ordered. "I'm driving from now on."

"But –"

"But nothing. You're practically asleep. Move." Jack's tone clearly indicated that this was not a point for discussion, and Martin conceded, secretly relieved. Within minutes, Jack was driving and Martin was dozing in the passenger seat.

Jack dropped him at home, realising that the young agent was in no state to return to work. Martin put up a brief protest, but Jack easily led him up the stairs to his apartment. Martin opened the door and stumbled inside, turning on the lights.

"Thanks Jack," he mumbled. "I'm fine now."

Jack appraised him, before nodding. "OK."

"Like a drink before you go?"

Jack walked in to get himself a drink, while Martin went into the bedroom for a moment. Jack walked out of the kitchen after having a quick drink. "I'd better get back to the office," he called. "You take it easy."

Martin laughed. "Yes sir."

Jack turned to go. His eye fell to Martin's address book, lying open beside it. He stared at the name scrawled on top of the page :

Ricky Hunter

Jack froze, staring at the name. Martin – re-entering the room – noticed his boss's expression as it worked its way through surprise, shock, and anger.

"What –"

"Have you had any contact with Ricky Hunter since he was released from jail?" Jack asked angrily, fore-going subtlety in favour of results.

"No. Why?" Martin retorted just as angrily.

Jack slammed his hand down on the address book. "This is the address book Sam gave you for Christmas last year. How the hell did Ricky Hunter's cell phone number get in there?"

Martin looked confused. "I don't know." Martin held out his hand for the book, and Jack – sensing the genuine confusion in Martin's voice – handed it over. "This isn't my handwriting," he said, frowning at the page. "It's Ricky's …"

"What?" Jack stared at the page intently, then looked at Martin. "You sure?"

"He was my best friend. I think I'd know," Martin retorted. "Look …" He flicked through the other pages of the address book. Jack was no handwriting expert, but he knew enough to recognise that the styles of writing were completely different.

"It isn't a genuine number," he said, looking harder at the page. "It's too long."

Martin nodded. "But he must have been here. Otherwise how would he have written his name here?" He watched Jack process this; work out the implications.

"You'd better stay with Danny tonight," he said at last. "Who knows why he's trying to contact you? Grab what you need. I'll set up a police watch on this apartment."

Martin nodded, and walked into his bedroom. He emerged a minute or two later. "Let's go."

*******************

"So – we know he's trying to contact Martin," Jack concluded, having just briefed the rest of the team on the events of the afternoon. "Anything from the girlfriend?"

Sam shook her head. "She went out shopping this morning – verified by the a Mrs Perez, who runs a fruit shop in the markets. She was out for two hours. Ricky was in bed when she left, as he had stayed up late the night before watching a soccer match."

Martin grinned at that, then shook his head.

"What?" Jack asked.

"Nothing. It's just – he always did that. He loves that damn game," he laughed.

Sam smiled a little. Jack nodded to her to continue.

"When she returned, the door was open. She went in, and found the lounge room was messy, and the sofa had been tipped over. She called out, but there was no answer. The kitchen was also messed up, and Ricky was nowhere to be seen. Their neighbours one side are on holiday, but the other neighbours remember hearing a commotion at about 10:30 – half an hour after Alison went out. They assumed it was either kids, dogs, or someone watching a loud movie. No one saw anything."

"Do they ever," Viv remarked.

"So," Jack said, picking up where Sam left off, "this is what we have: Alison goes out shopping. At about 10:30 there is a commotion at their house. Alison returns home at about midday; the house is a mess and Ricky is gone. All signs point to kidnapping. Now, a few hours later, we have an address book in Martin's apartment with a number and his name written in it; apparently in his handwriting. That would imply he left of his own free will, or, in the intervening hours he has gotten free and is running."

"But if he's running from people who attacked and kidnapped him," Danny mused, "why not go to the police? Why go to Martin, who he hasn't seen in five years?"

Martin was looking a little unnerved at being discussed like this. "Maybe he was grabbed by someone I'd know," he said with a shrug. "Maybe he's still angry at me."

There was a heavy silence, before Viv said, "Well, I guess this leaves us with you, Mr Fitzgerald, as our main lead."

"What?" Martin looked up.

"He's trying to contact you, Martin. He obviously –" She broke off as Martin's cell phone rang. For a second, the group tensed, half expecting it to be Ricky, but a quick shake of the head from Martin dispelled this thought. He moved a few metres from the desk for privacy, but they could just hear him:

"Yeah … OK … look, I can't talk now, I'll call you later, OK? … Thanks; I appreciate it." He hung up, and turned back to the group.

"My mother," he explained. "She's trying to organise a birthday party for my niece. I was supposed to do it, but she took over. Sorry about that. Where were we?"

Jack nodded. "Viv?"

"As I was saying, he wants to talk to you Martin. You are our best lead."

"You want me to call him?"

"How? That number didn't make any sense," Jack objected.

"It's code," Martin grinned. "If I can remember the code, I can work out his cell phone number. We used it when we were 17 in our computers class." Jack handed him the address book, and Martin flicked to the correct page, then began working the numbers on a piece of paper.

The rest of the team drew back slightly, except Danny, who sat by Martin watching intently. After ten minutes, Martin admitted temporary defeat.

"I can't remember enough of it," he sighed. "I've got bits and pieces, but … I'll try again tomorrow."

"Would you like someone else to try it?" Viv suggested.

Martin looked extremely unenthusiastic. "It's a strange code … you take the numbers, they correspond to different words – random words; half made-up. The words form a sequence you use to work numbers from – and that's for each number. If I can't get it and I helped create it …"

"You've forgotten it?" Jack asked, his voice tinged with disappointment.

"It's been a fair few years since I last used it, Jack," Martin said lightly. "I don't have a perfect memory."

Jack accepted this. He knew he would get no better from the young agent, not today. "OK … Danny, Martin's staying with you tonight." He sounded almost – worried.

Danny nodded; he understood why Jack was worried. From what Martin had said, Martin and Ricky had parted on bad terms. Who knew what the ex-con had planned for his former best friend, who he thought had betrayed him?

*******************

Author's Note: Chapter 3 coming soon! :-) Thanks for the reviews …