Pedro's last known address proved correct. Tony circled the block for the third time, triple checking it was not being watched before he pushed the gate open. It creaked slightly as he shut it behind him, and he walked rapidly up the garden path. The door opened before he could press the bell, and a thug looked him over.

'Who are you? What do you want?' he demanded harshly, his face expressing his disdain.

Tony blinked, wondering whether his cousin had moved yet again. 'I'm here to see Pedro Rosales,' he said, gazing hopefully at the stranger. Maybe he could tell him where his cousin was, even if he had moved.

The man spat on the step, narrowly missing Tony's sandals. 'How dare you come to the house? If you need work, you'll have to ask him tomorrow, at the site. Now get lost!'

Tony folded his arms, his thoughts whirling through his head. 'What site?' he asked, unable to think of anything better to say.

The thug stared at him again. 'The building site, of course! How many sites do you think there are? Who are you, anyway?'

'Pedro will know, when he sees me,' Tony replied. 'I really need to see him.'

'You and a dozen others. Señor Rosales WILL NOT be blackmailed. Nor does he give back pay! Now I suggest you get lost before I'll shoot you.'

Tony opened his mouth and closed it again, too startled to think of a single sentence.

'Who is it, Angelo?' demanded a voice from within.

'Some peasant,' the thug replied. 'I was just getting rid of him, señor.'

'No, wait,' Tony demanded, slipping past the thug and entering a dark passage. 'Pedro, its Tony. Don't you recognize me?'

'Come through,' Pedro called and Tony entered a large cream tiled family room. His cousin's mouth fell open when he saw his disheveled appearance. 'My God, Tony, you resemble an illiterate mountain rebel! Last I heard you were in prison serving a life sentence. I found it hard to believe, but now…'

'They pardoned me,' Tony said shortly, moving over to an armchair. The last five days on the road had worn him out, and his arm throbbed.

'Hey, don't even think of sitting there!' Pedro exclaimed, pushing him away. 'That furniture is new. Angelo,' he called, and the thug appeared. 'Bring a garden chair in, would you.'

'Sí, Señor. Another penniless relative, I take it.'

'Sí,' Pedro agreed, his eyes never leaving Tony. 'Sit there,' he said, once Angelo had produced an old wooden chair. 'What brings you here, to me? I haven't seen you since Abuelo's funeral.' Tony's heart clenched and he looked away hurriedly. 'Oh, cousin! Don't tell me you still miss the old man? Well and why wouldn't you? You were his favorite. All year we were there, Jose and me, and then the summer would arrive, and he would start getting excited. "Tony will come soon." That's all he ever thought about, seeing you.' He glared at the astonished Tony. 'Whenever the mail came he'd search through it, and if you wrote we all had to listen. It was easy for you rich Americans. Huge house, expensive private school, of course you got good grades.'

'We never had a big house,' Tony protested, worried by the vehemence. 'And I got a scholarship; my parents would never have been able to afford that school.'

'Whatever you say,' Pedro retorted. 'And after all that, he leaves you a block!'

'Come on Pedro,' Tony cried, irritated. 'He left you and Jose 5 each. He only left me that one because I went to visit him every year. You know what he used to think about? "Where is Pedro? I hope I'll see him again one day". But you never bothered to show up.'

'Easy, cousin,' Pedro growled, his eyes flickering. 'As I see it, it's you here in my house, dressed like a pauper. Did they really pardon you, or did you pardon yourself, I wonder?'

Tony's face turned red. 'They pardoned me, alright. You can check.' He knew his cousin would do no such thing.

'Hhm. So then why are you on the run?' He gazed at Tony, challenging him.

Tony returned the gaze, refusing to back down, reminded of their constant fights back in his grandfather's house. 'I managed to piss someone off,' he admitted.

A smile spread across his cousin's face. 'Well well well. Tony Almeida gets sent to prison, but then of course he gets a pardon, and why not, with all those influential friends. And soon after he gets out he manages to piss off some important dude and has to, how shall we put it, leave in a little hurry.' He stared pointedly at Tony's outfit, shaking his head. 'Is that right?'

'Something like that,' Tony agreed.

'And you came to me. Why would you do that, unless it's because I'm hard to trace?' Pedro eyed him suspiciously. 'What do you need, Tony?'

Tony rubbed his face, hating to ask anything from the cousin who bore him such obvious animosity, but knowing he had no other relative he could approach safely.

'Come on, what's the problem? Everyone comes begging from me, and I refuse them all. What do you need?'

Tony tilted his head, reading hostility in his cousin's eyes. 'I'm not here to beg for anything, just to borrow,' he said. 'I'll repay everything, you can count on it.'

Pedro laughed aloud. 'Repay! What with? What have you got, cousin? You obviously lack access to your bank accounts.'

'I'll repay you from my wages, as soon as I get a job,' Tony promised.

'So how much do you need?' Pedro pressed. 'And what for? Somehow, a man on the run doesn't get a legitimate job too easily. You're planning on going a lot further, and then I can kiss my money goodbye.'

'I said I'd repay you everything, alright,' Tony snapped. 'You're right, I'm lying low for a while, I'd need to leave the country. I need enough to leave Mexico and to live somewhere for a couple of weeks.'

Pedro laughed aloud, getting up to turn on the ceiling fan. Warm air brushed Tony's hair, ruffling the top strands. 'We're talking about how much, 4000 dollars? You really imagine I'd lend you that much?' He paused in front of Tony, arms folded.

Tony raised his head, nodding. 'Yeah, I think you would. You got dozens of accounts, you wouldn't even notice it. And like I said, it would only be for a coupla weeks.'

Pedro shrugged. 'You're right, I wouldn't miss it. Top marks for following my affairs so closely, cousin. But why would I wish to lend you anything?' He leaned closer to Tony, the smell of cigars wafting over to him. 'Why should I care? Give me one good reason.' His eyes bore into Tony's, crinkling in amusement as Tony remained silent. 'I know what you're thinking, Tony. I want to hear you say it. Tell me - "You should lend me the money, Pedro, to make up for the sound beating Abuelo gave me when he found the money you stole from the church." Say it, Tony!'

Tony nodded slowly. 'Alright, Pedro. You brought it up, not me. You owe me an apology at the very least. Why couldn't you just have hidden it? Why put it in my jacket? I didn't deserve that, I never done anything to you.'

Pedro slapped the coffee table, bringing Angelo in to glance round the room. He was waved away and his cousin turned to regard him. 'You were a fool, Tony. You dropped my cards into the collection box!'

'And I apologized and said I'd get them out for you, right. And I did,' Tony told him, indignantly. 'All I asked is that you hold the box while I open it, and you didn't even do that.'

'I did!'

'Not real well,' he hissed. 'The whole thing fell down, if you remember. I picked your cards up and while I was doing that you helped yourself to some money. And then back at home when Abuelo sent us to our room and chewed us out for daring to throw cards in the box and sneak back into Church and try to retrieve it, you hid the money on me. And when he found it, you kept silent.'

Pedro grinned at him in genuine amusement. 'Of course I did. Finally the perfect Tony gets into trouble. And you're still mad about it.'

'Just forget it, ok,' Tony told him, rubbing his arm. 'Will you lend me anything, Pedro, or not.' He massaged his arm directly beneath the wound, sick with pain. His medicines had been finished on the road the day before, and he knew he would have to get hold of some more.

'What happened to your arm,' Pedro asked, avoiding his question.

'I got shot,' he admitted reluctantly. 'Have you got anything for pain?'

Pedro looked interested for the first time. 'Let me take a look,' he ordered, and helped Tony off with the sweater. 'Oh, sí, that's deep. Angelo, come here. You think you can take that bullet out?'

Angelo examined his arm, before shaking his head. 'No señor, I can't. It's too deep. Only a doctor can remove that.'

Pedro got up and washed his hands, moving over to a kitchen cupboard. Tony leaned back on the chair, struggling with the extra pain of having the bandage removed and his arm examined. 'Here,' Pedro told him, handing him two white tablets and a glass of water. 'Take that. You got any money for a doctor, Tony?'

Tony swallowed the tablets down, draining the entire glass before he laid it on the coffee table and shook his head. 'No.'

'Well, he'll need some payment. He'd accept that,' Pedro told him, pointing to Tony's watch. You willing to part with it?'

Tony nodded. 'Sí. But it's worth several hundred dollars; it's more than what he would earn.'

Pedro leaned closer to him. 'Look, cousin. You're on the run, right? What kind of doctor do you think would come see you? The same who comes to see any of the injuries on the site, and he keeps his mouth shut. He's got to buy the bandages and medicines from somewhere too, so yes, he does charge more than most.' He picked up a phone, telling a doctor that he had a bad cold and needed to be examined at his house that evening. 'Ok, he'll come.'

'Gracias, Pedro,' Tony said softly. He closed his eyes, wishing he would be permitted to enter a bedroom and sleep. 'I'll go right after he fixed my arm.'

'You want the money, or not?' Pedro demanded, slightly put out. He obviously enjoyed hearing people begging him for help, but Tony had had enough.

'You know I need it, but I can see I won't get any,' he answered tiredly. The five days of walking, hiding from any passing traffic had taken their toll. He felt he could sleep for a week if left uninterrupted.

Pedro frowned. 'Well, I don't lend anyone anything - never did. But I got plenty of jobs going. If you want the money, Tony, you'll have to earn it, just like everyone else.'

Tony opened his eyes and sat straighter. 'Work for it? Pedro, I'm kinda hiding out, at the moment.'

'I know,' his cousin replied, opening the door to call for Angelo. 'Tell Isabella to get lunch, would you. Fact is I got several building contracts, and dozens of men working on the sites for me. They won't report you. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror recently? You look just like they do. Anyway, they're all foreigners, they lie low after work.'

The door opened again and a woman brought two plates of soup, glancing enquiringly at Pedro. 'Take it to the garden, Isabella,' Pedro instructed her. 'You look a little hungry, cousin! If you want something to eat, you'll have to sit outside.'

Tony got up rapidly, his stomach rumbling. He had eaten nothing beyond a few wild plants and occasional vegetables that he discovered for the past five days. Beyond caring what happened anymore he settled at a wooden table and ate ravenously, finishing his entire bowl before Pedro settled opposite. His cousin laughed aloud, staring at his plate in astonishment. 'You liked the soup, Tony! You really are on the run! Ok, well, you'll just have to wait till I finish mine, and then you'll get something else.'

Presently Isabella appeared and brought two plates of pollo en mole, removing the soup bowls. 'Gracias, it was very good,' Tony thanked her, earning him a shy smile.

Pedro rapped sternly on the table. 'Tony! She works here; you don't need to thank her. I pay her well enough. Now then, are you willing to work for the money?'

'Yeah,' Tony replied. 'You said the men working for you are foreigners. Where are they from?'

'All over the place, really,' Pedro answered in a bored tone. 'South America, Central America, and some from Asia, Africa, etc. Who really even knows? They're all here for one reason only, to move to the US. They just all discover, sooner or later, that the middleman costs more than they bargained for, and they're forced to lie low and get some cash. That's where I come in, cousin, I always pay cash!'

Tony ate silently, remembering his grandfather's regrets over Pedro. "He's turned into a real crook, Tony, just like his father. I really tried, but he's got bad blood in him. Would you do me a favor?" He had nodded. "Of course. Anything." "Well, one day he'll get himself into real trouble." Tony had nodded, agreeing with the old man's astute assessment of the situation. "I want you to help him when it happens, you're his cousin. Do it for me, Tony, so I can rest in peace." Tony wiped his mouth and sighed. What would you think if you saw us now, Abuelo? He's a crook, and I'm a fugitive.

'Thanks for lunch, Pedro,' he said once the plates had been removed.

'Don't thank me,' Pedro replied, waving him to a deck chair. 'I'll take it out of your pay. Now have a rest, and then have a shower before the doctor gets here.'

'Hey Jack,' Michelle said as he answered the door. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds before he reached for his jacket and followed her wordlessly outside. An icy wind blew her hair over her face once they reached the street and she stopped, tying it together in a pony-tail. 'Where is he?' she asked, watching his reactions.

Jack shook his head. 'I don't know, Michelle,' he admitted, noting her determined expression. It was going to be a difficult meeting, he could already tell. 'I don't think he wants anyone to know his whereabouts,' he said.

'What's going on?' she asked, keeping pace with him despite her high heels and business suit. 'Tony hacks in, he gets caught, they interrogate him and he escapes, after you visited him! I would've expected more from the pair of you. Surely you're aware his escape multiplied his guilty appearance a dozen times over?' She stopped, forcing him to stop as well. 'Why couldn't he have stayed put and waited for his evidence to be corroborated?'

'Michelle, Hammond was in charge of the interrogation,' Jack said, gazing at the sidewalk. He had agonized over his actions every night since Tony's escape, uncertain what the best decision would have been. 'I saw him for myself, and I couldn't just walk away from him. No matter how guilty he seems, at least he's free. They wouldn't have let him go, Michelle.' He reached forward and squeezed her hand, sorry for her.

Michelle brushed a curl from her eyes, wiping away a hot tear in the process. 'Did they hurt him?' she asked, dreading the answer. 'Only Mr. Hodgeson has access to the footage of his interrogation.'

Jack took a deep breath, reluctant to upset her further. 'Yeah, but he was ok when I saw him.'

Michelle's eyes met his own, refusing to allow him to look away. 'What do you mean "he was ok?"' she questioned, unable to leave the matter. 'I know you well, Jack. "He was ok" – does that mean he was fine, or that he was still alive? Which one?' she demanded, holding her voice steady with her final ounce of willpower.

Jack squirmed under her steady gaze. 'Neither,' he told her, longing to look away. He would hate arguing with her. It was no wonder his friend always apologized for every argument they had, he thought, knowing he would do the same rather than face her indignation.

She appeared to accept it. 'What makes you so certain he had no other choice than to run?' she asked softly. 'Look Jack, I know he was looking for more people responsible for blowing up that ship. I know he hacked into District. What else did he do? I need to find out somehow, to help him.'

Jack took her arm, drawing her closer to him until they stood inches apart. 'Don't even try going there,' he warned, his blue eyes hard as steel. 'The last thing, the absolute LAST THING Tony would want is for you to get involved.' He shook his head, watching her determination. 'Hell, he adores you. I never saw him so riled up as the day he went to exchange you for Saunder's daughter. There was something I didn't tell you. When I caught up with him, he begged me to help him make the exchange, and he told me if I helped him he would turn himself in, go to prison, do whatever it took to get you back safely. He kinda knew what he would face. He hasn't changed. You need to stay out of this, Michelle.'

Michelle's face turned red under his scrutiny and her eyes flashed. He found himself taking a step backward, followed by a second one as she moved after him. 'If either of you think I'm going to abandon Tony, you're deluded! I know what he sacrificed for me.' She wiped her eyes, furious with her tears. 'Either you tell me what's going on, or I'll find someone to hack in too and…'

Jack took her arm more gently. 'I'll tell you what little I know, ok? He was gathering data about two department heads, Thomas and Lachlan. From what Chloe showed me, the mole could be either one. Thing is, one of them must have changed some data, for it appears that Tony sold confidential information over the past few weeks. We both know he wouldn't have, but that's not enough to save him. Even Chloe can't untangle the web the mole is hiding under. They won't just lock Tony away this time,' he finished, taking her hand again.

'So what can I do to help? I got to visit his family tonight, what do I tell them?' she asked, deeply depressed.

'I've got Chloe working on it,' he said, resuming their walk towards her car. 'She's gonna need a little more time to unravel anything. In the meantime there's nothing we can do except wait patiently. You got that, Michelle? He did use your passwords to hack in, after all. It's vital you stay out of it! They haven't recaptured him,' he added, hoping to end the conversation on a positive note.

'They shot him. He's wounded – I don't know how bad. He could be dead in some hole, for all we know,' she said, struggling to keep her voice calm.

Jack shook his head again. 'I know him, Michelle. He's no fool. If he was injured badly they would have caught him. As they didn't, I'm guessing it's a flesh wound, and he can take care of that. He'll let us know when he needs help. Are you going to his parents tonight?'

'I must,' she said, dreading the visit.

'Do me a favor. Don't mention me at all. Chloe tells me their house is bugged.' He stopped, lowering his voice. 'When Tony calls, I want to be ready to help him.'

She nodded. 'So do I. You got my word, Jack.'

'Mr. Hammond, sir, it's Mr. Hodgeson from District,' his secretary told him, sounding slightly nervous.

'Thank you, I'll take it in my office,' Hammond replied, hurrying into the room. He sank onto his chair frustrated, taking a breath before he pushed a button on his phone. 'Mr. Hodgeson, sir. What can I do for you?' 'As though I haven't a clue,' he thought to himself bitterly. 'He wants to know what we're doing about Almeida, and I haven't a clue where that pain in the ass is!'

'Mr. Hammond,' Hodgeson began, without any polite preamble. 'What's the progress on locating Almeida?'

Hammond cleared his throat uneasily. The man always sounded so impatient, it almost seemed as though he expected him to peer into a crystal ball and locate the man. 'Sir, we're still searching for him,' he was forced to admit.

Hodgeson sounded upset. 'What exactly do you mean, still looking for him, Brad? Have you got any clues you're following, any leads? Anything at all? Or are you telling me Almeida vanished into thin air?'

Hammond managed to hold back his groan. A few more days of fruitless searching for Almeida, and he could kiss all hopes of further promotion goodbye. Once again he cursed Tony, wishing him to the deepest realms of hell. 'Sir, let me assure you I got six agents working on it, as well as working closely with Mexican Intelligence. They haven't managed to locate him either,' he added in his defense.

Hodgeson snorted indignantly. 'Brad, I'm sure you're aware our mole is also searching for Almeida. The country is crawling with agents from District. Should he locate him first, he'll shoot him and dump the body, and we'll be no closer in our uncovering him than we are now. It is essential you get to Almeida before that happens. You've had what, eight days to find him. I need results soon. Find him, Brad! Whatever it takes, just do it.'

'Yes sir,' Hammond agreed, cutting the line. He pulled the large map of Mexico open on his desk and studied it in silence. How in the world could he find one person there, among all the others?