A/N: Thanks to cynically optimistic for being an amazing beta, I owe you big time. Thanks as well for all the reviews, they do really mean the world to me and make writing this worthwhile as well as enjoyable. Only one chapter after this and I warn you, it may seem JS are going to be happy after this but this is a pretty big twist coming up. Enjoy!

FBI Headquarters
22 hours missing

Danny groaned inwardly. They'd been working on the files for only an hour, but all the numbers were making his head spin. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to running the numbers because he was. On the last case they'd had, he'd done all the financial legwork that had nailed Tom Douglas. That had been basic high school math though because Tom Douglas had been no criminal genius. Whoever was behind this, probably Colin Masters, knew what they were doing and had disguised it well. Martin had told him what to look for because Danny knew, from his short stint in the counter espionage department, that good tradecraft looked like tradecraft when you studied it closely. There was something as too much training, too much skill, a fact that betrayed undercover cops everyday.

"I'm going for a coffee," Danny decided. He needed a break from this numbers game even if it was just for five minutes.

"I'll come with you," Martin tossed his notes and a pen down on the table. "Get you anything?" he asked Vivian. Vivian shook her head, like Samantha earlier, she needed to concentrate. "Ok," Martin acknowledged, walking off to join Danny by the coffee machine. After a moment of silence spent looking round the unit Danny decided to speak.

"You know Eric Powell?"

Martin frowned.

"The slimy defence attorney?" Danny nodded getting two cups off the rack and searching for the coffee jar. "I know of him, yeah. And we've met a few times. Why?"

"I just wondered if you knew what was with him and Jack. Jack seems to hate him."

Martin thought for a moment, casting his memory back to the times he and Jack had met the man.

"I guess he would," Martin said slowly, considering it. "Eric Powell was Spaulding's defence attorney."

Danny nodded. He suddenly understood and knew that this case would now be personal for Jack. What with all the personal issues in the pot already, he hoped it wasn't one to many.

FBI Headquaters
24 hours missing

I've got it," Martin announced triumphantly, walking quickly into the unit, waving a wedge of files in the air.

"Lay it out for me," Vivian ordered, turning round to face Martin. She had been staring at the whiteboard and the fragile timeline that was Anthony Bates life. It seemed that for all their day's hard work, they really didn't have much to show for it. They still didn't have a recorded sighting of him after eight yesterday evening, when he'd been caught on CCTV getting into an elevator. For all her training, she couldn't rid herself of the feeling that they weren't going to find him. It hadn't even been forty-eight hours yet, nothing like in fact, there was nothing to support that they weren't going to find him but still she couldn't shake the sick feeling at the pit of her stomach.

"Right, well I've been all through the files. There's definitely something funky going on. Every month there's been a money transfer from each of the accounts Anthony listed. Exactly five percent of the profits made. Now, to an idle observer, that could easily be interpreted as a standing order, or a commissions fee, or something like that. Colin Masters authorised all the transfers."

Vivian nodded, digesting the information. If what Martin said was true, and of that she had no doubt, then they had enough to charge and hold Masters. However, his lawyer, as ever, complicated matters. With any ordinary lawyer Masters would be advised to talk, within reason of course. With Eric Powell it was different. Masters wouldn't talk, not even to say his own name. They would never get anything out of him.

"Hang on, I thought that a transfer needed two signatures," Vivian thought suddenly.

Martin nodded, smiling slightly.

"David Gristoft."

FBI Headquarters
25 hours missing

Danny paced up and down the interrogation room. David Gristoft followed his passage with his eyes, his unease growing with every minute that passed. Vivian stood off to the side, leaning slightly against the wall, her arms folded across her chest.

"You're in very serious trouble, Mr Gristoft," Vivian told him, slowly and deliberately. "Money is money, I understand that. A man is missing though and that's a hell of a lot more serious."

David Gristoft swallowed hard, a thin layer of perspiration covering his forehead.

"You could be accessory to murder, Mr Gristoft."

Danny sat down, pulling the chair round so that he could lean on the back and stare intently at his suspect.

"I didn't know, I didn't," David Gristoft suddenly shouted, twitching nervously.

Vivian and Danny shared a look, divide and conquer by picking off the weakest link.

"Where is he Mr Gristoft?" Vivian asked, her eyes boring a hole through Gristoft's skull.

He moved uneasily, his hands placed on the table, one hand fiddling with his watch strap as he desperately tried to think of a way out of this mess.

"I don't know," he confessed. "Colin Masters phoned me early this morning. He said that Anthony had discovered what we doing and was going to blow the whistle."

Flashback phone conversation

"What do you mean he knows?" David Gristoft demanded, walking angrily over to his window. The weather was matching his mood, it was bucketing with rain. The rain was so heavy that it had obscured the empire state building.

"I don't know how he knows but he knows," Colin Masters told him walking round his car to the trunk. He had his grey wall street issue raincoat on, now he understood why it was wall street issue, designed to make you look important but waterproof.

"What are we going to do?" Gristoft asked, panicking and making his heart race. That wasn't good for his blood pressure. Mind you sleeping on his office couch wasn't good for his back, but that's what he'd done last night. He couldn't believe his wife had kicked him out again, wasn't he a good husband? Didn't he buy her everything she asked for? Wincing slightly he tried to get the kink of his neck.

Colin Masters sighed, he might have known that Gristoft would react like this. He was too lily-livered for anything. Just as well he'd already taken the matter into his own hands.

"Don't worry David. Get yourself a nice lawyer and sit tight. I'll take care of the rest."

"What do you mean take care of it?" David Gristoft voice rose in anxiety. A dull click was his only answer.

End Flashback phone conversation

"Do you think that Colin Masters could have killed him?" Danny asked, shooting a sidewards glance at Vivian. He knew how much she wanted to find him alive. He just didn't think that was going to happen.

"Probably. Oh god." David Gristoft put his head in his hands.

Vivian gave him a moment to regain his composure before asking the next question.

"Where would he dump the body? Does he have a cabin in the woods or . .?"

"Yeah, he's got a cabin. One of the things he bought with the money." Gristoft answered, looking between Danny and Vivian, looking for an ounce of sympathy. He was disappointed.

"We're going to need an address," Danny told him.

David Gristoft nodded, resigned now to his fate.

FBI Headquarters
25.5 hours missing

Sam sighed as she checked her watch. Danny and Vivian had headed off, half an hour ago, to Colin Masters' cabin in the hills. All they could do now was wait - the part she hated the most. She glanced over to Martin's desk. He was catching up on the dinner he'd missed and some paperwork. Feeling her own stomach complain that she'd missed lunch and dinner Sam stood up. She wasn't in the mood for the greasy burger Martin was devouring with apparent relish. Perhaps Jack was hungry? They could get some chinese or something.

Jack had reclaimed his office ten minutes after Vivian had left. She had a sneaking suspicion it was so he could call his divorce attorney. Jack had his back to her, his jacket had long ago been discarded and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck. He was slouched back in his chair with his feet up on the desk. He was on the phone again, perhaps his divorce attorney had called back. Sam paused just inside the door, unwilling to intrude.

"Ok sweetie. Can I talk to Hanna now?" Jack asked. Sam could hear the desperation in his voice. Things obviously weren't going well at home. After a long moment she saw his shoulders slump in resignation and defeat.

"All right, honey. I understand. Tell her I love her. I love you. Bye."

Jack hung up and in a sudden and unexpected show of temper slammed the receiver down. Sam stood there feeling very uncomfortable. There was a pause before Jack realised that somebody was watching him. He looked up and met Sam's eyes. Sam almost immediately had to break the contact. His eyes were so full of sorrow and pain she couldn't bear it.

"I just wondered if you were hungry," Sam explained. Jack checked his watch. It was nine thirty. Now Sam mentioned it, he started to feel his stomach growl.

"Yeah I guess. What do you want? Chinese?" Sam nodded and Jack picked up the phone and dialled Hop Lee's. It was just round the corner and they were used to hungry FBI Agents requesting takeout at odd times.

Sam listened while Jack ordered. It was such a comforting sound, conjuring up many happy memories of times past.

"It'll be ten minutes," Jack told her hanging up. "Didn't Martin want anything?"

"He's got a burger."

Jack rolled his eyes, pleasantly surprised by the light tone this conversation was taking. It was almost like old times. The two of them grabbing takeout while they waited for the call to find out if their missing person had just changed from being twenty-six hours missing say, to twenty-six hours dead or alternatively been found alive and well. It was normally a long wait and a very lonely one if you only had your thoughts for company.

"So . ." Sam didn't know what to say. There were so many topics of conversation that were out of bounds and she'd never been particularly good at small talk. Jack, in turn, was desperate not to lose the good atmosphere that had unexpectedly cropped up between them but just like earlier he was suddenly desperate to confide in her.

"I was just talking to Kate, saying good night. Hanna won't talk to me," Jack sighed. "Maria's turned her against me. I think she hates me."

Sam didn't know what to say. This was something Jack would have always feared, the reason why he'd tried so hard to make it work.

"I'm sorry Jack. I'm sure she doesn't hate you." Sam perched on the edge of Jack's desk.

He looked up and met her eyes.

"She does."

The breath caught in Sam's throat. He looked desolate and more miserable than she ever could have imagined. Not for the first time that day she felt an overwhelming urge to comfort him. Gingerly she moved her hand so that it rested on top of his. For one long moment they stayed like that, until the ringing phone brought them back to reality.

"Yes," Jack answered, the tiredness evident in his voice. It was clear that the person on the other end was speaking. "Ok." He hung up and looked back up to Sam. "They've found him."