A warm kiss tickled him awake the next morning. Tony rolled over, shocked to find his right eye refused to open. What in the world had happened to it? The next moment another question crowded his worry aside. Why was he lying in the double bed, squashed by the edge? Taking a deep breath he recalled the previous evening, making love to Clarissa several times under the stars before she led him inside, refusing to allow him to sleep on the floor. He had curled up beside her instead; arms wrapped around her and had fallen asleep so soundly that he would not have woken for hours.

'Tony, wake up,' she repeated, kissing him again. 'Oh, look at that eye! I'll get you some water.'

He shook his head, climbing out of bed. 'That's my job,' he insisted, grabbing the bucket. He pulled on his clothes rapidly before Clarissa woke the child and hurried to the well. There was one thing he had forgotten about, though he couldn't recall exactly what it was, his mind filled with reliving the previous night.

Clarissa made them breakfast in the kitchen and they ate leisurely, chatting about children. Blanca seemed to sense the change between them for she sat on Tony's lap, insisting on eating from his plate. Her small fingers lifted his mug and took a sip of his coffee. He watched her, noting her grimace in silent amusement.

'Not too strong for you, princess?' he asked, fighting to keep his face straight.

'No, it's just a bit hot,' she said. 'I'm not really hungry.' She laid her head against his chest and he brushed her forehead, worried to note it appeared a little warm.

'You feeling okay, princess?' he asked, taking care to keep his voice cheerful.

'Sí,' Blanca said, but she was obviously off color. Tony resolved to look in on her later.

'I better go,' he told them, getting up regretfully. 'Don't want another disagreement with Jarvis!'

Clarissa hurried after him to the door. 'Promise me you won't annoy him, Tony!'

'I promise,' he answered, pulling her towards him for a kiss. 'You be good, too!' He went to the shed, collecting his gardening tools.

'Almeida,' a voice told him and he turned.

'Yes, Mr. Jarvis,' he replied, as politely as he could. 'Which field needs work today?'

'All of them, but Mr. Christianson needs you for something else. He wants to see you in his office.'

Tony nodded and returned to the house with a sinking heart. Surely the freezer hadn't stopped working? Or had the smuggler learned about his black eye? Chewing his lip he entered the house and knocked on the office door. 'You wanted to see me, sir?' he asked, as politely as he would have at CTU.

CTU. Oh shit, you forgot to call Jack! He'll be real pissed off, Almeida!

He forced an impassive look onto his face and waited patiently for the smuggler to finish writing something. 'Almeida, I'm going to need you for something else today,' he began, turning to face him for the first time. 'Ah, I see you've been taught a lesson,' he observed, smiling humorlessly.

Tony regarded him steadily out his left eye. Get to the point! What impossible task have you got for me this time?

'Young is sick. You're to take his place today. Your job is to drive the truck with Stevens and keep him safe. Touch any of the money; I'll kill you and the girlfriend. Oh, and don't imagine you'll run – there's nowhere to go. All the farmers are my friends round here and of course, should you be foolish enough to try anything, the girlfriend dies.' He waved a hand at Tony, who nodded and walked through the house to the front verandah where Stevens waited, fists clenched. So you're to drive! Wonder where you're going?

A tattooed man a head taller than himself sat in Christianson's smaller truck on the passenger seat. Tony pushed open the door, finding the keys in the ignition. Starting up, he wondered why he was the one assigned to drive, until he noticed a reflection beside the man. He was armed, the gun within easy reach of his right hand. 'Where are we going?' he inquired, eyes fixed on the road.

'You'll drive where I tell you to,' snapped Stevens, refusing to give him further information.

Tony shrugged. 'Okay.' He would find out soon enough. The country lane stretched ahead, occasionally turning to avoid an old tree, the land undulating slightly. A narrow ditch ran beside the road and beyond that wild grass grew as far as the electrical fence. He assumed they were still passing Christianson's property. At least he got to see a little of the surroundings – if the worst happened he would know where to hide Clarissa and the child.

'Turn right,' Stevens ordered, and Tony noticed a narrow track with a rusting letterbox beside it. He slowed the truck and turned onto the rough track, noting the lack of shock absorbers as they bounced over the holes. 'Slower!' Stevens snapped and he pushed the truck into second gear. They continued in silence between rows of orange trees, Tony glancing at the heat indicator before him. 'We nearly there?' he asked, pointing to the dashboard. 'We'll overheat at this speed.'

'Yep,' Stevens assured him. 'It's right up ahead. Pull up just before the house and remain in the truck.'

'Aha,' Tony agreed, stopping in front of an imposing front door.

'Don't even think of leaving, or I'll show you just how much stronger I am than that weasel Jarvis!' Stevens warned.

Tony permitted himself a frustrated sigh once the man left. The world's dumbest, most aggressive illiterates all gathered in one location. Geez Almeida, you're real lucky! He rolled down his window and examined the house before him critically, noting nothing out of the ordinary. Come on Almeida, you're a federal agent, act like one! There's something going on here, otherwise you wouldn't have come. Look around.

A woman approached the truck, a hose in her hand. Tony watched her water a few bougainvillea before he joined her. 'Buenas dias,' he began.

'Go back to your truck before I squirt you,' she hissed, turning her back on him.

Tony rubbed his face, startled by her vehemence. He had never, as far as he knew, met her before. 'Right now, you creep! No one will feel sorry for you if I do.'

'Okay, I'm leaving,' he assured her, turning to face her. 'I'm real sorry for whatever it is I've done,' he said gently.

The woman pursed her lips. 'So what do you get paid, being Christianson's lapdog? Is it really that much that you'd betray us all? They'll never respect you. See,' she pointed to his injured eye. 'They'll keep doing it every time you get an original idea, just to teach you to remember your place. They'll never let you go.'

He touched his bruise gingerly, feeling his entire right cheek swollen. 'I only got here a few days ago,' he protested. 'I haven't betrayed anything.'

'That you have,' she replied, turning her back on him. Tony returned to the truck puzzled. She hated his presence – the truck's and Steven's presence really. They were working against her interests, well, that much was obvious anyway. He rubbed his face, wishing someone would offer him a drink. The sight of water pouring onto the plants was almost more than he could bear.

'Alright, Almeida, I'm ready. Let's go,' Stevens ordered, climbing into his seat. He tossed an exercise book and a box onto the floor near his feet. Tony started the truck and turned it, driving back over the bumpy track, noting a few people among the orange trees. 'Keep going until you come to the next entry on the right and turn down there,' Stevens ordered.

The house they arrived at was larger than the previous one and appeared deserted. Stevens knocked on the door carrying the exercise book in his hand and it was opened without him getting a chance to catch a glimpse of the interior. Tony waited till it was shut before he reached for the box that remained on the floor. Alright, Almeida, take a look! He picked the lock easily enough and opened the lid, unsurprised to find it full of money. Seems as though we're collecting the aliens' pay! No wonder that woman was so mad. Dammit, Jack, I can't do this for much longer. When the hell are you gonna step up border security and frighten these guys?

He closed the box and returned the lock, laying it back where it had been left – not a minute too soon. The door opened and Stevens appeared, tossing the notebook behind him. 'Let's go, Almeida.'

'Listen, it's real hot in here,' Tony complained, wiping his forehead. 'Could I go ask for some water?'

'We're on a tight schedule,' Stevens replied, fastening his seatbelt. 'You'll get some at the next place. Let's go.'

Once they reached the next house Tony reminded him of the promised drink. He was told to walk round the back and get some from the kitchen, Stevens reminding him to lock the truck and return within the minute. Relieved, he slipped out and followed an imposing stone house around until he reached a back door. He pushed it open, fully prepared for further insults, but it was empty. Sighing in relief he turned the tap and cupped his hands, drinking his fill. Drink some more, Almeida. You don't know how many more places you'll be visiting today. Wonder where Stevens is? At that last thought he turned off the tap and crept across the kitchen, pushing open the door.

Distant laughter reached his ears from somewhere to the right. Tony took a deep breath and followed it, tiptoeing along a gloomy passage. Stevens proved to be in a lounge room, sitting on a leather armchair, poring over the exercise book. Tony strained his eyes in vain; it was too far to make anything out. A shorter man sat directly across from him, drinking beer from an open can. 'It's all there. Wouldn't wanna cheat Christianson now, would I?'

'Wouldn't be a good idea,' Stevens agreed, reaching for his own beer. 'They sure don't work real hard,' he sighed.

'Nah. I'll need a couple more at this rate. Listen Jake, have lunch with me? Young's welcome too.'

'He's sick. I got some Latino driving, some mechanic.'

'He can wait,' the owner of the property decided, while Tony chewed his lip. Keep it shut, Almeida! You're only here to observe, remember?

'Right. Ok, I will. Haven't seen you in the bar, Tom.'

'I was in LA,' the property owner informed him. 'I'll call Elena.'

Heart beating wildly Tony dived through the nearest open doorway, hearing footsteps heading towards the kitchen. A woman's voice answered, and she was ordered to take lunch into the dining room. He remained where he was, pressed against the wall behind a large grandfather clock, its loud ticking interfering with his listening. Presently he heard footsteps down the passage. Plates were laid in another room directly opposite the one he was hidden in and two voices spoke, clinking cutlery. Once again he crept to the door, peering round it.

Stevens and "Tom" sat at the table, "Tom" directly opposite him. Tony chewed his lip and knelt down, waiting impatiently until the man glanced away before he crept out and down the passage. Unable to return to the kitchen where someone was obviously working, he decided to creep through the front. As long as no one noticed him, he would be able to return to the truck.

The notebook lay where it had been abandoned on the coffee table, open at the page Stevens had been examining. His natural curiosity overcame his desire to flee while he had a chance and he slipped inside, picking up the book. It contained a list of names, followed by a column labeled "working hours", followed by an unlabelled column with a few numbers in it, and ending with a list of amounts. Frowning in concentration he leafed backwards until he came upon his own name.

Almeida T. 35 hrs. 4 dollars. 140 dollars.

He scratched his face, annoyed. I worked a lot more than 35 hours this week! And what's that 4? Whatever it is, it works out to 140 – oh damn. That's your wage! Gee, Almeida, you're not exactly gonna make the top ten richest guys in the country on that! Just as well CTU is also paying you! He rubbed his face harder, reminding himself to call Jack when he returned.

Slowly he replaced the grey notebook and crept to the front door. He unlocked it as quietly as he could and slipped outside, closing it silently behind him. The garden appeared deserted. Tony returned to the truck and unlocked the door. A blast of hot air greeted him and he stepped backwards. If Stevens could sit in a pleasant dining room and eat lunch he could at least find himself some shady spot to wait in.

'There you are, Almeida,' Stevens snarled as he appeared an hour later, followed by "Tom." 'I thought I told you to wait in the truck.' He glared in pure hatred at the agent.

'I'm only a coupla feet away,' Tony answered, keeping his voice neutral with difficulty. 'It's hot there.'

'Get back in.' Stevens pointed to the truck, eyeing Tony. 'Next time, you'd do well to listen. Can't trust any of them,' he told his companion, who agreed wholeheartedly. Tony added him to the growing list of people he planned on interrogating personally. 'If anything's missing, Almeida, I'll skin you alive.'

Tony chewed his lip as he climbed into the truck, having forgotten about the unattended box. 'I've been here the whole time, no one came near the truck,' he assured Stevens, praying it was indeed so.

'Drive,' Stevens ordered, waving to "Tom." Once they were on the road he unlocked the box, counting the money openly. 'You're lucky this time, it's all there,' he said, glaring at Tony. 'Next time you remain IN the truck. Do you understand that?'

Tony nodded, his eye on the road. 'Do you understand that?' Stevens repeated several decibels louder.

'Aha,' he agreed. They sat in silence until they reached the next house, the smallest on their route.

'You, stay,' Stevens said, pointing to the seat. 'My dog can understand that, do you think you can?'

'Yeah,' Tony forced out, resolving to call Johnson to help him interrogate the man regardless of his cooperation.

'Good, coz there's a lot of money in the truck. And don't imagine you can steal a bit. I've seen people killed for taking a dollar,' Stevens warned, climbing out.

Tony glared at him and turned on the radio, wishing the day were over. He longed to take the truck and drive home, and eat dinner with his family. Groaning aloud, he pushed the thought from his head. He was on duty, however dismal his assignment was proving to be.

Fortunately Stevens returned shortly and they set off again, further along the road. To his surprise they drove into a small town, where Stevens instructed him to park just before the post office.

'There's something I really need to get,' Tony began, glancing at his hostile companion. 'Could I get my money now?'

'Mr. Christianson said you might want something,' Stevens sighed. 'Ok, here's your money.' He opened the box and pushed 85 dollars into Tony's hand.

'Where's the rest?' he demanded, startled.

'The rest goes to Mr. Christianson. Do you want the money, or not?'

'Yeah,' he replied, telling himself he would only be forced to endure another week or so, two at the worst.

'Fine. Be back in twenty minutes,' he was told and he nodded, jumping gladly from the truck.

All was silent as he trudged across the field that evening, carrying his package in his arms. For a moment he worried that something had happened as he failed to see a light before he remembered the hut contained no electricity. They were probably asleep. He pushed the door open softly, praying Clarissa had brought a little food for him.

'Tony, you're back,' Clarissa cried, hugging him tightly. 'We didn't know where you were.' He felt her trembling against him and hugged her back.

'Hey, I had to drive some guy around. We stopped in town.' He put his hand in his bag and withdrew a packet of chocolate. 'This is for you, for those great dinners,' he told her, rewarded by a kiss.

'What's that?' she asked, pointing to the large package.

'It's for Blanca,' he said, glancing round, his eyes not fully adjusted to the gloom. 'Where is she?'

'I'm here,' she called and he made her out, tucked up in bed.

'Come here for a moment, princess,' he said and she joined him. 'I got this for you. Your mama will help you open it.' He patted her hair and rose. 'I'll go wash,' he said, collecting a fresh pile of clothes. 'Oh, there's one more thing.' He handed a small package to Clarissa. 'It's aspirins, in case someone gets sick.'

Clarissa joined him as he poured the third bucket of water over himself, enjoying the feeling of being clean again. He held out a wet arm as he heard her approach and drew her to him, kissing her deeply. 'How was your day?'

'Ok, apart from worrying about you.' She pressed herself closer to him, ignoring the water. 'Tony, I don't know what I'd do if they transferred you somewhere.' She sniffed and buried her face in his chest. 'I was so afraid they sent you to some other farm, coz you answered back to Jarvis.'

'Hey, Clarissa,' he said softly, running his fingers through her hair. 'You know I'd NEVER leave you two here alone.' He lifted her face with his fingers, tilting it upwards to look at her. 'I hardly think I'm the only one Jarvis dealt with,' he told her with a grimace. They won't transfer me for that. You should be proud of me today, I got insulted at least twenty times and I kept quiet! Do I get a kiss?'

'You do,' she whispered, kissing him deeply, her tongue probing his mouth. 'Tony, it was so kind of you, getting Blanca that dolls' house. She's so happy.'

He nodded, drying himself and throwing on his clothes. 'You're both real welcome,' he assured her, following her back.