Tony ate a cold breakfast by lamplight, wondering when the coffee would wake him. Neither cup had had the desired effect of preventing his eyes from closing. Idly he contemplated pouring himself a third cup, but remembered Michelle's countless admonitions against drinking too much. Yawning, he collected his breakfast things and rinsed them in the sink before heading upstairs to brush his teeth, slide the comb through his hair and put on the jeans and t-shirt. He pulled his sombrero on and wandered downstairs, pulling out the map Pedro had left for him. The site was circled in red pen, and Tony folded the map, placing it in his pocket. It was already 5:30, he had a half an hour walk ahead of him, he would have to hurry. He pulled the front door closed and set off along the edge of the road, heading further out of town.

The sun rose as he walked, blinding him. Tony pulled his hat lower and quickened his pace, aware of the penalty of lateness. Work started at 6:00 o'clock sharp, and anyone not there would lose part of the day's wages. He was determined not to risk that, aware of the need to collect his money as soon as possible and leave. He had spent the past several days contemplating his future while he painted window frames, and repaired the roof. Somehow he would need to acquire a Mexican passport, and then he would seek employment in a place which hired plenty of them. There were some oil companies in countries less than friendly to the States where several of his cousin's acquaintances had worked - he would try and get a job as an engineer in one of them.

The sun rose higher and birdsong filled the air. He listened, ignoring nothing since his imprisonment. You never realize what you got till it's gone. Well, it wasn't all gone, not by a long shot. He was free, he was about to start working as a builder and earn some money, and he was healthy. His family was fine, and the people District had sent to locate him had obviously failed to do so. The old couple who had sheltered him had remained silent, and he had removed any trace of his presence there. At the moment, he was safe.

He came upon the building site rather suddenly, just beyond a bend in the road. It was a lot larger than he had expected, with dozens of men milling around. Piles of bricks lay in rows, wheelbarrows lay along the edge of a wall, and cement mixers were surrounded by mountains of sand. Tony joined the crowd of around fifty men, studying his surroundings in silence for a minute before the door of a caravan opened and a man stepped out.

'Ok, names. On the west wing, I want Jo, Miguel, Luis, Arturo, Pablo and you,' he pointed at an Indian man in a turban. 'On the south,' he stared at his list and read another string of names. Tony concluded that the south wing had to be completed a little sooner, as twice as many men were allocated there. 'Alright, everyone else, to the north. You,' he pointed to Tony. 'Come here!'

Tony moved over to him, whilst he glanced at a clipboard. 'You're Tony; Señor Rosales said you were coming.' Tony nodded. 'You ever built anything before?'

'No señor,' he admitted.

'Hmm,' sighed the foreman, glancing at his board again. 'Someone's sick on the west side. They're short of a laborer. You can be Gunga Din's assistant!'

'Who?' Tony exclaimed, startled.

The foreman slapped the clipboard against his thigh, eager to return to his breakfast. 'Gunga Din, the guy with the turban. He'll tell you what to bring. Now grab a wheelbarrow and move it!'

'You sure about his name?' Tony inquired, pulling a grey wheelbarrow from behind several sacks of cement.

'Are you being funny?' the foreman told him, sharply. 'No one has a name here; you'd do better to remember that. Now move, unless you want to be docked half a day's pay.'

Tony pushed the wheelbarrow round the construction site, feeling the first warm rays of sunlight. The west wing proved entirely separate from the rest of the building, consisting of a small concrete base with three rows of bricks round it. He laid the wheelbarrow down and approached the group of men who stood discussing the work. 'I'm supposed to help you guys,' Tony told them.

'Good. You can see that the brick carter messed up, he was supposed to put some piles of bricks here for us, but he didn't. There's hardly any left. You'll have to bring them from the south wing as fast as you can,' Jo told him. 'Gunga Din, start the cement mixer. Let's move guys.'

Tony pushed his barrow over the uneven site and found several large piles of bricks near the south side. He laid his barrow on the ground and began piling bricks inside, two at a time, resolved to get a pair of gloves from Pedro the following day. The bricks were sharp, scratching his hands as he worked. Once the barrow was as full as it could get he pushed it back, startled to notice the remaining pile of bricks had almost entirely been used up.

'Tony, hurry up! What do you think you're doing, walking so slowly?' yelled Jo, clearly upset. 'You're supposed to run! We can't keep waiting. Now move it.'

The moment they unloaded his bricks he returned for more, pushing the barrow faster, feeling it bump along the uneven ground. He grabbed the bricks faster, throwing them into the barrow before pushing it rapidly back. All six builders were waiting for him, more annoyed than before. Not a single brick remained on the ground.

'Tony, this is no good. You ever worked on a site before? You're much too slow. The cement will dry,' Jo snapped.

'I'm moving as fast as I can,' Tony protested.

'Well, it's not good enough! Luis, you'll have to be a laborer today too, or we'll get nowhere!'

A cheerful looking man in his late twenties shrugged and snatched a wheelbarrow, pushing it beside Tony's. He pointed to a second stack of bricks, larger and darker than the pile he had been carting. 'They're internals. You got to bring those too, see, or the work will stop again.'

Tony nodded, and filled the barrow with the larger internal bricks, struggling to push it over to the men. 'Oh, there you are. I was beginning to think you quit,' Jo snarled, as he unloaded. He glared at Tony. 'You know the meaning of the word "hurry"?'

Tony glared back at him and returned to the pile without comment, tossing as many bricks in as he could, not bothering whether they chipped. Sweat trickled from his forehead and he wiped it automatically, spreading red brick dust along his face. The sun rose higher and his t-shirt clung to his back, soaked through. He decided to get a drink of water, thoroughly sick of Jo's comments. He would simply have to wait for a few minutes; a rest would do him good!

A large water tank stood beyond the northern end of the building, surrounded by paper cups. Tony pulled one out and turned the tap, watching it fill. He leaned against the tank and drank, swallowing rapidly. Still thirsty, he filled the cup a second time, pouring a little onto his hot face.

'Tony, move it. Jo's gonna kill you,' Luis told him, arriving minus the barrow. 'If that building's not up to the doorframes today, he won't get paid, and trust me, he'll kill you personally.'

Tony nodded, tossing the cup into a large black plastic bag. 'Ok, I'm ready. Luis, what's the deal here, anyway? I've seen other buildings go up, nobody's running around.'

Luis shrugged. 'Everyone's here for the money. Señor Rosales pays for the amount of work, not for the hour.' They walked back together, Luis humming a tune. 'Oh shit,' he said quietly, pausing.

'What's wrong?' Tony inquired, unable to find anything out of the ordinary. The west side had several extra courses of bricks and someone was pouring sand into a cement mixer.

'Your wheelbarrow's gone. Wait here, I'll find it, I've got an idea who took it,' Luis told him, setting off rapidly. Tony followed him, his face turning red. It had never occurred to him that anyone would remove a barrow half full of bricks. They rounded the building and arrived at the south side, where Luis grabbed a short over weight man. 'Manuelo, you bastard, that's ours.' He tipped the bricks on the ground and grabbed the handles. 'Come on Tony, let's go.'

Together they piled the barrows full, Tony filling his with internals. They wheeled them back in silence, Tony lost in thought. Luis and Jo yelling at each other pulled him back to the present abruptly, and he tipped his bricks to the ground.

Luis grabbed his barrow firmly. 'Let's go, Tony. Jo's getting pissed off!'

Tony followed him, rushing as fast as the barrow would move over to the shrinking pile. 'So where are you from?' Luis questioned, throwing bricks on top of each other. 'Mexico?'

Tony grabbed a few bricks and dropped them noisily, nodding his head. 'Sí. You?'

'El Salvador. Hopefully in a few months I'll have enough money to move on. Come on, Jo will be waiting.'

They trudged back, unloading their bricks. 'Luis, what's your problem today? You're getting as slow as Tony! Ah, look, the brick truck.' Jo set off in a great hurry, waving to the driver. Tony moved aside, watching as a small bobcat unloaded several piles of bricks. 'Good, now we can work! Tony, it shouldn't be too hard for you to just bring them to us now, I hope! Oh shit, cement's turning hard. Go and bring water, and not in a cup! Take that red bucket.'

Tony picked up the bucket, throwing Jo a dirty look. Focus, Almeida. You're here to make money, not to pick arguments. So that bastard is giving you a hard time, you'll just have to deal with it. He's hardly the first one! He hurried over to the water tank, filled the bucket and carried it back without spilling a drop.

Pedro stood at the cement mixer when he returned, deep in conversation with the foreman and Jo. Tony added a little water and returned to his barrow, handing bricks up to the Sikh, watching the skill with which he laid the rows.

'You're not taking that bloody mixer anywhere. First you hand us a useless guy, then you think you're taking our mixer, you're not!' Jo snapped. Tony turned to watch the argument erupting between him and the other two.

'You work for me, Jo, don't forget that,' Pedro told him, in a nasty tone Tony had never heard him use before. 'We need that mixer; the west side needs one more urgently than you do. Damn things, always breaking down when they're most needed.'

'I'll take a look,' Tony offered, laying the last two bricks on the top row.

'Good, go! At least he won't slow down our progress,' Jo snapped.

Tony chewed his lip and refrained from comment, following Pedro over to the north side. A cement mixer stood abandoned, full of drying cement. 'It worked ok just a short while ago. Clean the stuff out and see what you can do, but I warn you, Tony, if you're just wasting time I'll know about it and you won't get paid.'

'Look, Pedro,' he said, allowing his irritation to surface. 'I haven't even examined the thing yet. How can I know what's wrong? Give me five minutes, ok?'

Pedro stepped back, watching while he cleaned the contents out and switched on the machine, hearing only silence. 'I'll need to open it up,' he said, watching his cousin nod. He unscrewed the cover of the electrical panel, discovering a broken wire. 'Got a spare? I'll install it in a coupla minutes.'

'You've earned your keep for the day,' Pedro told him, impressed. 'I forget, you got a degree in engineering too. Seems you're better at that than carting bricks!'

Tony folded his arms, scowling. 'Gimme a break, ok. I just started today.'

Pedro laughed aloud. 'Ok, relax cousin. If anything else breaks down I'll call you. Now get back to your work and move it. I heard a one legged man would bring more bricks than you!'

Brad Hammond straightened his tie, resolved not to get overly irritated. He would focus instead on the dinner reservations he had with his wife later that evening. True, the meeting he was summoned to would be anything but pleasant, but it would surely end. 'You can go in, Mr. Hammond,' a secretary told him.

Hodgeson sat at his desk, hardly bothering to glance his way. 'Sit down, Brad. We need to talk. I don't think you're taking the Almeida problem seriously enough. How is it possible that your six agents failed to locate him? Don't tell me he just vanished into thin air? The man exists, he eats, he drinks, he lives somewhere. He must have left a trail of some kind. Did you check his relatives' accounts?'

'Yes sir,' Hammond replied, irritation in his voice. 'Neither his parents nor his siblings have any unusual debits since his disappearance.'

'Well he must live from something,' Hodgeson exclaimed. 'What about those Mexican relatives? Did you check them?'

'Sir, Mexican intelligence reported they're all clean,' Hammond said, glancing at his watch. 'All except for a cousin they've failed to locate.'

'What do you mean, "failed to locate?"' echoed Hodgeson. 'How many more members of that family are missing? What's he wanted for?'

'Nothing in particular sir,' Hammond answered.

'Well the man must pay taxes. Didn't you check the internal revenue records?'

Hammond shifted on his chair in genuine annoyance. 'Of course I did, sir. According to them he resides in the small town the grandfather lived in, but in reality he hasn't been there for years. He hasn't paid taxes either, just bits and pieces occasionally. It says he's some kind of builder, works temporarily.'

Hodgeson sighed. 'Check it out anyway, Brad. What's his name; I'll put someone onto it.'

'Good luck, sir! Pedro Rosales. But there's little reason Almeida would be with such a character. What use could he possibly be?'

'You never know. I want every lead followed, for there aren't many.'

'There aren't any, you mean,' Hammond thought sarcastically. 'That bastard Almeida just disappeared. We've turned the country inside out to find him, and come up blank. He's gone. He's never gonna surface, and not only will I lose my promotion, this job itself might well be forfeit.' He tapped his fingers restlessly against the desk. 'We'll find the cousin, sir.'

Hodgeson nodded grimly. 'Yes Brad, you will. I fail to comprehend your lack of results. Do you enjoy your position?'

An icy chill ran down Hammond's spine. 'Yes sir,' he answered.

'Hm. How much are we offering for his capture?'

'A quarter of a million, sir,' Brad replied.

'Offer half a million. Someone must have seen him. Hell, most people would sell their own mothers for less.' Hodgeson scrutinized him in silence. 'Almeida won't surface accidentally, you pushed him too hard. If we fail to prevent the mole from getting to him first, we've got a major problem on our hands. I want to hear his exact location by tomorrow evening, Brad!'

'Yes sir,' Hammond answered again.

Michelle placed her hand on the door silently. The wood felt cold beneath her hot fingers and she allowed it to rest there a few seconds, in two minds about her visit. A delicious smell wafted through the dining room window and helped her reach a decision. She withdrew her hand, curled it into a fist and thumped on the door, aware she would have to knock loudly if she wanted a hope of being heard. It opened a short while later and Tony's mother beamed at her. 'Michelle! Come in honey.' She gave her a hug, her eyes searching Michelle's.

She shook her head sadly. 'I haven't heard anything else,' she admitted. 'I was just thinking about him…driving around….' She had spent the last three hours driving around without a clear destination in mind, unable to return to the silent house. It hadn't helped, for she had instinctively driven to all the places that held special memories of the two of them together, leaving her more distressed than before.

'We were thinking about him too. We're about to have dinner, honey. Are you hungry?' Tony's mother added a third plate to the table without waiting for her reply, convinced her daughter-in-law was terribly thin.

'I am a bit,' she admitted, sliding into her chair. If the truth were told she was famished, having missed lunch due to her extremely heavy workload. Stopping to worry about Tony's whereabouts was not helping her concentration and she resolved to push him from her mind at least a dozen times, only to catch herself staring at his photo.

'Marco, dinner's ready,' Tony's mother called, laying a third saucepan on the table. 'Try this one, honey, you like it,' she told Michelle with a knowing look and she blushed under the scrutiny. So her mother-in-law had observed Tony's gentle teasing. Michelle took spaghetti and added some sauce, her mouth watering. 'Now honey, you haven't got a stomach ulcer,' Tony's mother protested, piling more onto her plate. 'You should eat more, you'll get sick! Marco! Dinner's ready.' Silence greeted her words and they smiled at each other. 'Excuse me a minute, Michelle, I'll have to get him. He's worse than a child!'

'Sure,' she agreed. 'Just switch off his computer, I did to Tony once! I kept calling him – we were supposed to go shopping and he wouldn't quit some racing game. I told him I'd switch it off and he just said "aha". I doubt whether he even heard me, so I just turned it off!'

His mother nodded. 'It's the only thing you can do with them.' She set off determinedly and Tony's father entered the room moments later, smiling at her warmly.

'Michelle, it's good to see you. Start eating, don't wait for me. None of my children ever did.'

'That's because they wanted to eat while the food was at least lukewarm,' his wife told him with a mock frown. 'Take more, sweetheart,' she told Michelle, noticing how quickly she had finished. 'Tell me you had lunch today.'

'Ah, I can't remember,' she muttered turning her attention to taking more food.

They told her off simultaneously. She nodded, aware that missing a meal was a fate only slightly better than death as far as Tony's entire family was concerned. Once the meal was over she helped carry the plates to the sink, secretly wishing they would buy a dishwasher. 'Can I help?' she asked, hoping they would refuse as she was utterly exhausted.

'No dear, Marco will take care of them,' her mother in law said, and led Michelle to the family room. 'You look tired,' she observed.

Michelle nodded. 'I am a bit. I miss him so much,' she groaned in despair. 'I thought he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison – I kept expecting him to be murdered by someone, and then they pardoned him, and now he's gone again. I can't do this anymore.'

Tony's father laid the pile of dishes back onto the table. 'I got some new tomatoes in the garden,' he said, to her bewilderment. 'Why don't you come along and see them, a little air would do you good.' Before she could object he had taken her arm and led her outside to the verandah. For a moment she hoped he had something to tell her, but the hope faded as she found herself propelled towards the vegetable patch.

'They're great,' she said, struggling to sound enthusiastic.

She heard a snort beside her in the darkness. 'You sure about that? They're pumpkins! He called four days ago.'

'He called,' she cried, clapping a hand across her mouth. 'Where is he?'

'He didn't say. He's fine, he's kinda safe, and he misses you very much. He asked me to tell you he had to run as he had no other choice, and said he loves you and will contact you when things settle a bit.'

She gave a little jump of joy, grinning madly at Tony's father. 'Thanks, Marco. He's ok,' she repeated, overwhelmed. She felt a hand stroke her curls and she burst into tears. 'I can't stop thinking about him.'

'He does have a habit of getting into trouble,' his father agreed, taking her elbow. 'He misses you very much, Michelle, I heard it in his voice.' She listened, her heart bursting. 'You're exhausted, Michelle. Better stay the night.' They returned and she sank onto the couch, her eyes fixed on the unrepaired bullet hole. 'I'm sure I haven't told you about the first camping trip we went on,' he said, deciding the dishes could wait as his favorite daughter-in-law was in sore need of cheering.

She shook her head and shut her eyes listening to the crackle of the fire and hearing several stories of Tony as a child. She had no idea how they managed to cheer her up whenever she instinctively sought shelter from them as they suffered along with her, but they never failed to do so. Once the clock struck twelve she rose, a lot calmer, and begged to be allowed to sleep in Tony's old bed.

Tony turned the hot water on and moved beneath it, attempting to ease his aching muscles. His arms shook with weariness; he doubted whether he would have been able to lift as much as another broken half of a brick. Steam rose around him, clouding the bathroom until he saw little beyond himself. His eyes closed and he permitted a slight groan to escape. Oh God, what a day! Slowly he reached for the soap, rubbing it over himself generously. The thought of returning to the building site the next day filled him with despair. One more person wants to know why the bricks are coming so slowly, I'll tell them to get it themselves! He reached for the shampoo, scrubbing the dust from his hair. I believe that bastard Pedro was laughing at me. He spent the whole damn day there, watching. He rinsed the shampoo out and leaned against the tiles, allowing hot water to run over his face.

'Tony, where the hell are you? Dinner's ready, I'm not waiting.'

'I'm coming,' he called, doubting whether he could eat anything. All he wanted to do was curl up on his mattress and close his eyes, but he would need extra energy to face tomorrow from somewhere. Turning the water off reluctantly, he dried himself and pulled on the ancient pair of pajamas Pedro had fished out of a drawer for him, and stumbled down the stairs.

Pedro burst out laughing as he fell onto a chair, taking his plate and piling it high. 'Eat, Tony. You look half dead! I don't believe you've ever done a day's work in your life! Never mind, you'll get used to it, I promise. They all do, just before they leave. Now I got to go to town tomorrow to do a little banking, so unfortunately I'll miss your performance, but I'll try to hurry and get back by late afternoon.' He laughed uproariously, pouring himself some Cepa Urbiñon.

Tony placed a little beef into his mouth, forcing his eyes to remain open. 'When will you pay me?' he demanded, eyeing Pedro suspiciously.

'Tomorrow. I must get some cash. You'll get everything you earned today, don't worry.'

'And how much is that?' Tony demanded, distrustfully.

'Twenty dollars.' He laughed again, shaking his head at Tony's thunderous expression. 'What do you expect, ah? You're an illegal, and you're not even fast.'

'I need thirty, or I'll never fix anything again,' Tony hissed, forcing himself to chew. You're gonna be here for a real long time at this rate, Almeida, he concluded gloomily.

Pedro shrugged. 'Ok, relax. I was going to offer that anyway. Thirty it is, but I warn you, most of that was for the cement mixer. If you want to earn the same tomorrow, you'll have to lift the pace. Goodnight, cousin.'

'Just a minute,' he said, rubbing his eyes. 'Can I use your computer for a bit, Pedro?'

'What for?' his cousin demanded suspiciously.

'Let me show you a picture,' Tony begged, moving over to the room set aside as an office before he could object. Pedro followed him wordless, slight curiosity in his eyes. Tony settled on Pedro's chair, powering up the computer. 'I need to use the Internet,' he said quietly.

Pedro typed in his password and Tony worked silently for a minute before nodding. 'I'm gonna print this out, ok?'

'Looks like you're already doing it,' Pedro observed. They watched a picture of an auburn curly haired woman fill the screen. 'Who's she?' he questioned. 'Your dream girlfriend?'

'My wife Michelle,' Tony muttered, swallowing. The picture was an official one taken at Division and lacked a smile, but even her serious professional face tore at his heart.

'Wow,' Pedro exclaimed, genuinely impressed. 'You must earn real well, cousin!'

Tony shook his head. 'I only got a bit more than her. She actually asked me out!'

It was Pedro's turn to shake his head. 'That's impossible,' he stated. He regarded Tony quizzically. 'You finally learned how to lie cousin.'

'It's the truth,' he insisted, mesmerized by her picture. The printer deposited her picture on the table and he picked it up, smiling at her.

'You went to prison for her,' Pedro said, taking the picture from him and examining her in detail. 'I thought you were crazy Tony, but I might have been wrong. She's worth it!'

'Yeah,' he said, taking her picture back. 'Buenas noches, Pedro!'