Nat woke at 8:30am the next day, still wrapped tightly in Sands' arms. It was early for her; she was definitely not a morning person. However, try as she might, she just could not get back to sleep so she settled herself resignedly against Sands' body. Looking up at him, she watched his features as he slept. He was so gorgeous. She rolled over slightly, partly leaning over him and kissed his lips softly. Just as she slipped out her tongue to lick his lips, she felt him stir beneath her and his hands found her waist. She pulled back slightly.

"Hey you," he whispered tiredly, a small smile growing on his lips. Nat answered with a loving kiss on his lips. Before she could pull away, Sands pulled her down closer to his body and deepened the kiss, his tongue battling with hers, his fingers gently skimming up and down her sides.

Nat moaned into the kiss and pulled back. She folded her arms on his chest, resting her chin on her hands, looking up at him fondly. Her mind suddenly thought back to the phone call from Trent the night before.

"Trent called me last night while you were sleeping." She said. He raised his eyebrows at her urging her to continue. "Simon Clarke reckons he knows who tried to do us in. Ever heard of a certain Tom White?"

"White? Isn't he the fucker who owns the Black Boar?"

"The very same."

"Well fuck me. I thought he was killed in the coup de grace."

"No. Trent wants us to meet up with Clarke at twelve thirty in the Flying Cow. We've got four hours."

"Oh a whole four hours, sugar…What could we possibly do to pass the time…" He grinned and kissed her suggestively on the lips.

"Hmm I wonder…" she replied, giggling as Sands seized her by the waist and flipped her onto her back.

At 12.30 Sands and Nat were sat waiting in the Flying Cow.

"He'd best not be late," Sands grumbled. Nat rolled her eyes amusedly. Sands had already been through one and a half tequilas.

"He'll be here. Trent said he's fairly reliable," She replied.

"Fairly," Sands snorted. She giggled.

"I'm not late am I?" came a voice from behind her. She turned. "I'm Simon Clarke." He held his hand out and Nat shook it. He did the same to Sands who didn't respond. Clarke remembered about his loss of sight and gave up. From what he'd been told of Sheldon Jeffery Sands, he probably wouldn't have accepted his hand shake if he could see. She motioned for him to sit and he did.

He was a stern looking man, probably a bit older than Sands, with dark red hair and pale blue eyes. He was slim but tall and wore a black suit, accompanied by a black leather briefcase.

"Okay, spill all you know," Sands started, leaning back against his chair casually.

"You don't have to interrogate me, Officer Sands. I'm on your side." Sands would have rolled his eyes if he could.

"Get on with it and stop whining." He said. Nat nudged his leg gently but purposefully with her foot. It usually took Sands a long time to learn to trust new people and until he did, he treated them with as little respect as he could manage. Sands shut up at Nat's motion.

"Right well," Clarke began, opening his briefcase. "I trust Rivers contacted you about yesterday's incident. Tom White is one of few of the remaining Barillo Cartel. We only know of four main people involved at the moment but no doubt they will be recruiting new members."

"This Tom White," Sands interrupted his speech. "I thought he was killed in the coup de grace."

"White had a brother who turned traitor at around the same time. White had him murdered. That's probably what you heard about."

"Do we know who's in charge?" Nat asked.

"James Carlo. He has a half brother, Pablo Carlo. They're in it together. Both equally deadly. Before the Day of the Dead James Carlo was the right hand man of Barillo. Second in command, if you will."

"So who's the other guy we know about?" Sands asked.

"Kevin Andrews. We don't really know much about him. Other than he's a Brit and he can kill a man with a blade from about half a mile away. He's certainly one to look out for."

"So what do we do?"

Clarke reached into his briefcase, bringing out three small black devices. He gave one to Sands and one to Nat. "These can be fitted into an article of clothing, to hide from view. They take in all sound within two metres radius and record it. All three are connected so even if we are five hundred miles apart, we can still hear what is happening to each other through the small earpiece right here. This earpiece can be fitted behind the ear so as not to draw attention and can be hidden by hair or a hat or whatever. I suggest you both wear these when you are apart. They are also a way of communicating with each other without the use of a phone. Trust me, they are 100 reliable."

"Where did you get these?" Sands questioned, his fingers roaming over the little device on the table.

"I'm a spy. I have my contacts. Anyway, next month, there will be a party at the Black Boar for the reopening after refurbishment. That's not all that's changed there though. Tom White no longer fully owns it. Our dear friend Pablo is now co owner. You have to be a member to attend the party but it's a great opportunity to get closer inside if we can manage it."

"You want us all to go and join the club?"

"No. We'd look suspicious. Both Sands and I are well known by the Cartel. I was thinking more about you, Nat. I think you could pull it off. Get in there, start working some charm. It's a risk but you'd be well protected."

"I can handle it," she answered firmly.

"Great," Clarke replied, smiling. He clipped his briefcase shut and stood up. "Well listen, I have to be off now. Nat, if you could sign up at the Black Boar as soon as possible that would be brilliant. Then I'll contact you in about a week. Good luck." And with that he left the restaurant.