A hand pressed tightly over his mouth woke Tony, who stirred in alarm, struggling to remember where he was. 'Tony, get up. Quickly,' the old man instructed, pulling him out of bed. 'There are cars down the road, and nobody ever drives here at night. I'm going to hide you.'

He helped Tony up rapidly and the old woman entered, removing the sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. Tony found himself pushed through the dark house, emerging into a moonlit night. His ears picked up the sound of talking somewhere in the distance and the hairs rose on his arms. 'Come on, we got to go now,' the man told him, supporting his weakened body as they hurried away from the house. A few meters from the door he knelt down and brushed away some soil, grasping a stone ring. Tony watched silently as he pulled it up, revealing a dim hole. 'There are spaces for your feet,' he was told. 'Now are you strong enough to climb down?'

'Sí,' he agreed, knowing he could do it.

'Ok, so go now. You need to be absolutely silent until I come for you.' His sheets and damp clothes were thrown down before him and he helped Tony lower himself into the hole and waited till he moved a few rungs down. 'Don't be too frightened, they can't find you here.' The blanket from his bed was thrown down last. He closed the lid and Tony heard earth replaced above him as he reached the bottom of the hole, wrapping himself in the blanket. He sat absolutely still, attempting to calm his nerves.

For a while all was silent in the dried out well. Tony leaned against the wall, his back supported by a stone, knees drawn up to his chest. Despite the assurances he had heard he was frightened, dreading being captured. Judging by the words under his picture, he was wanted at any cost, and this time he would not survive his interrogation. If by some chance they merely sent him directly to Federal, he would be forced to commit suicide, knowing he was unable to face further prison time. 'Please God, don't let them find me,' he prayed, a feeling of shame rushing through him the moment he finished. 'I'm real sorry, please don't let this old couple be caught either,' he continued. 'They're real decent, I was wrong to have stayed.' Tense minutes passed while he waited, ears straining to pick up the sound of a car.

Sick with dread, Tony heard a car draw up to the house, and several people got out. 'Alright, you two take a look around. I'll speak to the people. God I'm getting sick of these illiterate peasants,' a voice complained. 'The moment we find that bastard Almeida I'll kick his arse myself. Bloody dog nearly bit me in that other place!'

'There doesn't appear to be one here, sir' someone informed him.

'Hah.' Tony heard a loud bang, followed almost immediately by a second before the door opened. The person knocking moved inside and the door was shut, leaving him unable to hear the conversation. He buried his face in his hand, dismayed to feel the heat. There was no chance of him being strong enough to leave the next day, and there was no way he could stay either, risking the safety of his hosts.

Doors opened all around him as the outbuildings were searched. The cover of the well he had drawn water from the day before was removed and replaced with a loud bang, echoing like a shot in the silence. Tony's heart pounded as he sat motionless, praying they would leave.

'And if you see him, be sure not to approach him, he is armed and has killed several people.'

'Alright señor, if we see anyone here, we will go to town and tell the policeman,' the old man said. Tony heard the car doors close and a moment later the engine was started up. Silence reclaimed the night, his heart gradually slowing as the minutes passed.

The lid was drawn back and a candle held down. 'Tony, are you ok?'

'Sí,' he called, using the stone wall to pull himself up. He gazed at the footholds, doubting whether he would have the strength to climb them. Pull yourself together, Almeida! You'll climb up there this instant; you certainly can't stay down here. Haven't you disrupted this couple enough? Placing his hand in the first hole he began his slow journey upwards, forced to use his injured arm to steady himself as his left hand felt for the next hole. He said a silent thank you to sergeant Wills years ago at boot camp who had trained them all to climb using their feet and one arm, the other tied behind them. Without that training he would have been tempted to remain in a miserable heap on the floor, rather than fight his way up, eyes trained above him.

They pulled him out at the top and helped him over to the house, tucking him back into a freshly made bed. 'Have a drink, Tony,' the woman said, handing him a fresh glass of water.

'Gracias,' he said, hunting for his painkillers. They watched while he took two, concerned for him. 'I don't know how to thank you,' he said softly. 'You don't even know me.'

'You are our visitor.' The man sighed and Tony stared at him.

'They said things about me?' he questioned, and the man nodded. 'Would you tell me?'

'Why not? They said you killed many people, that you're a dangerous terrorista, that you sold names of foreign agents abroad and they got killed.' He avoided Tony's eyes.

Tony pressed his eyes shut. 'I fought in the Gulf, I was stationed there for 8 years,' he said softly. 'I was a sniper. We were at war. Afterwards I was responsible for taking out several militants; I got my orders from my captain. Later I was a federal agent; there were a few shoot outs. I never killed anyone except in the line of duty.' He sighed, hoping to convince them they hadn't helped a traitor. 'I was never a terrorist and I didn't sell anyone's name abroad or anywhere at all. They needed to pin it on someone, and that was me.'

'So why don't you explain?' the old man asked.

Tony pointed to his burn marks. 'I tried. They didn't believe me. I'll go tomorrow, I can't stay, it's not safe for you.'

'You're staying in bed tomorrow,' the woman told him.

'Sí. When you able to travel, in few days, I'll take you in a small truck. Now you must rest. Buenas noches.'

Tony shook his head, aware the right thing would be to leave silently at night, but unable to stand without swaying. Realistically, if he did sneak out, he would fail to reach the road, let alone put any distance between himself and the couple. Deeply frustrated with his weakness, he lay back.

They woke him in the morning, bringing him a slice of bread with honey and a mug. Tony's eyes lit up, smelling the contents of the mug before it was laid in front of him. Mouth watering, he ate and drank, taking his medicines. His fever was taken again, it was a little lower. The woman entered, bringing another cup of liquid which she handed to him. Tony ate it reluctantly, sipping coffee to kill the bitter taste, while she supervised him. 'You must let us see that arm now,' she told him, and he lay back while they removed his bandages and examined his wound.

'Tony, that is bad, it's too deep for me to remove,' the man told him. 'When you arrive at your destination you must see a doctor immediately.'

'I will,' he promised, hoping it would be that simple.

He spent the following two days in bed, while his fever went lower and his cough eased. Only his arm caused him intense pain which he attempted to keep from his kind hosts. If they knew how much he was hurting despite the painkillers they would risk everything to call him a doctor.

On the second evening he was well enough to eat dinner in the kitchen, enjoying the taste of food. They watched him carefully and he wondered what they had decided to do about him. 'Tony, you are well again, able to continue your journey. Tomorrow I will take you part of the way in my truck. I can hide you, it won't be too comfortable but it will be a lot faster than walking.'

Tony shook his head, deeply moved. 'I can't let you do that, Felipe. They'll be watching the roads. I'll walk; I've been trained to cross unfriendly territory…'

They shook their heads, insisting on giving him a lift. 'I can see your arm hurts you, a doctor has to see it soon or it will go bad,' the old man told him, piling more food onto his plate. 'We'll leave at dawn.'

Tony nodded his head and thanked them, helping one handed as they piled boxes of vegetables in the truck. A cool wind blew, he returned to his room to find the old coat they had lent him. 'Where would you put me?' he asked, handing the final box up.

'You'll have to ride in one of the crates,' the old man said. 'Don't worry, it will work out. Now get some sleep, we'll leave before sunrise.'

Tony's father slipped his arm closer round his wife, determined to comfort her. 'Sweetheart, he has a reason for not coming. We know Tony was 'questioned' and had to go to a medical room to rest. They said he escaped and took a man hostage. It doesn't add up, but it sounds as though he's ok. Jack would have called us by now if he wasn't. He's probably on the run and needs to lie low for a while.'

His wife nodded, raising pain filled eyes to his. 'How long is a "while" Marco? 'Days, weeks, months? I really can't understand why Jack didn't call us.'

'Because he couldn't,' Tony's father told her, stroking her hair. 'I've been thinking about it, Rita. He said he'd find Tony; he'd go see him and then come back. I think he went to see Tony, and then Tony escaped…He probably felt he couldn't come visit us this soon.'

Tony's mother stopped, her eyes oblivious to the park they walked in. 'You don't think Jack had anything to do with his escape? That would be crazy, everyone knows they're friends.'

'Sweetheart, someone will tell us one day. In the meantime, we'll pray for Tony, and wait for word. Michelle will get back next week. She'll come tell us what's going on. Don't worry, he'll contact us. We'll see him again, I promise.'

They shook him awake before dawn, for he had fallen asleep despite his excitement. The old woman handed him breakfast and a mug of coffee. He ate rapidly, eager to move further from the boarder, yet reluctant to leave the hospitality of the elderly couple. He wondered idly whether his cousin would be half as helpful as they had been. 'Get your things, Tony, we have to go now,' the old man told him as finished the last piece of bread.

Tony nodded, and returned to "his" room, pulling on his clothes. He gazed round a final time and picked up his sweater, touched to notice it had been ironed and the torn sleeve patched. 'Gracias,' he said, receiving a hug from the woman. 'I won't forget your kindness.'

'God protect you, Tony,' she told him, handing him a flask. 'Put that into the crate with you, and enjoy the coffee.'

Tony laughed aloud, thanking her again. He climbed onto the truck and settled into an empty crate, waiting patiently while carrots were piled around him.

'Can you breathe?' asked the man, slightly disconcerted to find no trace of his guest.

'Sí.'

'Ok, we'll go then. Yell if it gets too bumpy!'

The truck started up, shaking him badly as it moved over the driveway. Tony found himself enveloped in a cloud of dust mixed with diesel fumes, his throat rasping. Once out on the open road the truck gathered speed, bumping over the uneven surface, forcing Tony to grit his teeth as the carrots pressed against his injured arm. He pulled the flask out from under him and attempted to position it near his wound, to prevent further injury. Despite the two painkillers he had taken after breakfast his arm throbbed, sending waves of agony through him.

Focus, Almeida. Every second you're moving further from the border, closer to safety. All you have to do is endure this trip and you'll be well on your way to Pedro, and he'll get you a doctor and lend you some money, and you can disappear for good. He shut his eyes, longing to rub his face. He didn't have any desire to disappear, he wanted to return home and be told the mole was found, receive a reprimand for his hacking and be allowed to focus on searching for a new position.

They pulled off the road in a quiet spot and the old man helped Tony out. 'Have some bread,' he said, handing over a slice of bread with a piece of cheese. Tony thanked him and ate rapidly, nervous of being exposed. They continued the journey shortly after, Tony's arm protesting more at every pothole.

'Tony, can you hear me?' Felipe asked, an hour after they had stopped for lunch.

'Sí,' he answered, the hairs on his arms rising.

'There's a road block ahead. I can't turn round anymore, they've seen me, and it's exposed ground. Just lie where you are in silence, and we'll go through.'

'Ok,' he replied, pulling Hammond's gun closer. If discovered he would pretend to have taken the old man hostage, an act they all believed him capable of. He prayed for help and remained motionless, barely breathing as the truck slowed.

'Out of the truck,' ordered an authoritative voice. 'License and registration.'

Tony was unable to see anything except parts of the sky from where he lay, but he heard the dashboard opened and papers rustling. 'Ok, they're in order. What are taking and where are you heading?'

'I'm taking vegetables to market. After that I'm going to visit my son in Matachic,' replied the old man steadily, his voice betraying no fear.

'How long do you plan on staying there?'

'I can't know that now, señor. Maybe one day, maybe two or three. Depends how soon his wife will get tired of me.'

'Alright, take a look at this picture. Have you seen this man anywhere?'

A few seconds passed. 'No señor, I haven't. Is he dangerous?'

'Extremely, and he's armed. Now open the truck and let me take a look inside.'

'Sí señor.'

The truck's side was lowered and a man climbed aboard, peering into the crates. Tony's finger tightened on the trigger as he moved a few carrots aside, relaxing slightly as the man left.

'Ok, you may go. Don't forget to call the police if you see that man.'

'Thank you, señor.' The truck started up again and Tony resisted the urge to peer over the side, lying motionless as they pulled past several police cars and continued. 'Are you ok, Tony?' questioned the old man several minutes later, driving over smoother ground.

'Aha. But you got to stop and let me out now, it's not safe for you to take me any further. I'll be fine.'

'Why? We've passed a checkpoint; there won't be another for ages. I'll take you a little further, save you walking.' They drove for several hours, the noise of the engine the only sound in the stillness. Tony allowed himself to drift off, knowing he would wake up the moment his name was called. His eyes opened instantly they pulled to the side and he grabbed the gun, chiding himself for having fallen asleep. 'It's ok, Tony, I'm just refueling.' He forced himself to stay awake after that.

Around midnight the truck stopped again. Tony climbed out of the crate and jumped over the edge of the truck, waiting while the old man walked over to him. They gazed at each other silently for a moment before the old man looked away. 'I can't take you any further, Tony. It would be too suspicious at this hour, with those vegetables.'

'You took me a lot further than you should have,' Tony told him, holding out his hand. 'Gracias Felipe. I'll never forget your kindness. Here,' he pulled off his watch, handing it over. 'Take it. For the food, for the ride, and for the trouble I put you through. I haven't got any money.'

Felipe stared at him shocked, handing him back his watch. 'NO. You think I would take the only thing you got? I only wish we had some money to give you. I have something else though.' He opened the driver's door and emerged with a pair of worn sandals. 'They're about your size; I found them by the road. We repaired it, so it should last till you arrive in the center.'

Tony shook his head; aware the shoes would be needed by the man himself, or traded for some other essential. 'I can't.'

'You must. How far do you think you'll get barefoot? Put them on.' Tony sat on the side of the road and pulled them on, noting they were a little large. He fastened the straps tighter and stood up.

'They're fine. Gracias.'

Felipe smiled at him, delighted the shoes fit. 'I got one more thing for you,' he said, opening the door again. Tony shook his head, watching as he pulled out a sombrero. 'It'll be real warm where you're going, and you didn't have a hat,' he explained. 'No, don't say anything,' he continued, as Tony opened his mouth. 'With the old jeans, the sandals, the sombrero and the patched sweater, no one will look at you twice. You'll look like some other peasant come to the city for work.'

Tony laughed aloud, amused by the description. 'Sí, you're right. Felipe, they're perfect. You must take the watch.' Once again he pushed it over, placing it in his pocket.

'Now Tony, what do you think Maria would say to me, if I returned with it?' the old man questioned reproachfully. 'What would God think? Maybe one day, if they find out you're innocent and you get to go home, you could send us a note.' He took the watch from his pocket and handed it back, closing Tony's fingers round it.

'You got it,' he agreed, deeply moved. He would do a lot more than that, too.

'Now we'll eat dinner together, and then you must go,' Felipe told him, handing out a few sandwiches. They ate slowly, unwilling to part. Felipe was clearly worried about him, and Tony knew he would miss his company. Finally they finished and Tony rose, his eyes searching the silent road ahead of them.

'I must go now. Adiós!' The old man reached forward and gave him a hug. Tony returned it, wondering whether anyone else would ever care about him again. He watched in silence as Felipe climbed back into the truck and turned it round, heading backwards. Once the headlights were no longer visible in the darkness he turned and set off further south, aware of the days of walking before him.