Chapter 7

Charles Borden gazed up from the mound of paperwork that littered his desk, a scowl on its way to forming until he saw Albert Eberts peering furtively around the half-open door. The look of excitement plastered across the younger man's face was more than enough to curb the Fat Man's temper…for the moment anyway; though its continuation very much depended on what his assistant had to report.

He randomly noted Eberts' 'crumpled' appearance as he scooted into the office without waiting for permission to do so. His normally immaculate suit would have benefited from a visit to the local dry cleaners and his white shirt was creased with the collar hanging open, no sign of a tie at all. Eberts was speaking before he was half way to The Official's desk and before Borden could snap a reprimand at his Agent's untidy appearance.

"I…I may have found him, sir" he stuttered out quickly, wiping a hand across eyes bloodshot and weary from their prolonged staring at his computer for hour after hour searching for any lead, no matter how small or tenuous, that might aide them in their hunt for Darien Fawkes. And he certainly wasn't alone in the amount of time he was willing to dedicate - the Agency personnel had been working around the clock since the day of the kidnapping, exhaustion one of the prices they were all prepared to pay if it got them their colleague…and friend…back safely.

Borden held up a chubby hand to stop Eberts before he had the chance to say anything else . "Let's get the rest of the team in here. If you think you've got our first solid lead, then they all deserve to know about it."

By the time Hobbes, Claire and Alex had arrived and gathered around the conference table in Borden's office. Eberts was a bundle of pure, nervous energy, and Claire squeezed his shoulder and smiled encouragingly at him as she moved past to take her seat beside Bobby. She knew that he still partially blamed himself for Darien's abduction, for not being able to do something…anything…to prevent it, even though they had all gone to great lengths to convince him otherwise. Subsequently, his guilt had manifested in an almost manic determination to get them the breakthrough they so desperately needed.

"What ya got for us Ebes?" Hobbes asked eagerly, his own fatigue forgotten for the moment. His appearance had also suffered the stresses of the last few weeks; he looked as if he had aged ten years at least.

As a team, he and Alex Monroe had pursued every conceivable lead they had; interviewed numerous contacts including former colleagues of Wesley Carter, Ella Craven and, not forgetting, Arnaud De Fehrn and waded through endless hours of cctv footage from in and around San Diego right to the airport - the last confirmed sighting of their I-man as he was wheeled on board a private air ambulance, which had subsequently disappeared from the radar about a third of the way across the Atlantic Ocean.. They had even been to the State Pen to see Arnaud's brother, Huiclos, in the hope that he might have some insight into the current whereabouts of his notorious sibling. But despite their best efforts, all they'd drawn so far was one big fat blank.

"I…uh…think I know where Darien is," he repeated for the group this time, staring from one to the other of the individuals who were closer to him than family. Four eager pairs of eyes watched as he tapped the keyboard on his small laptop computer, which he'd set up while waiting for his three colleagues to arrive. "I found it almost by accident when I was doing my routine check across certain secure Government databases…this came via the Central Intelligence Agency" All the while he spoke his fingers were gliding rapidly across the keyboard.

Hobbes fidgeted impatiently, unable to cope with the waiting. "So c'mon Eberts, what's the 'it' you found? Spill before I have to shake it outta ya."

Albert drew in a long deep breath to steady his own nerves and then began to report in his own methodical style. "As you are all well aware, the CIA keeps a very watchful eye these days on the international arena, particularly certain Middle Eastern countries and also parts of Eastern Europe, where not surprisingly there's still a great deal of political unrest."

He turned the laptop around so that the group could see the map of Europe now on display.

"What the hell are we looking at," Hobbes griped.

"Patience, Robert. I'm getting to that," Eberts advised with a tight smile as his finger traced down the map, stopping at a point just between Romania and Hungary. "Latovania," he announced proudly, tapping the screen.

"I've never heard of it," said Alex Monroe, leaning forward and squinting to get a better look at the tiny speck on the map.

"Well that's not surprising, "Eberts informed her authoritatively "Up until 1989 it was actually part of Hungary. But after the Berlin Wall crumbled, the Latovania's decided to oust their old communist regime and seek independence, like most of their neighbors. There followed a brutal and bloody civil war, and in actual fact…"

Claire sighed. "Albert, sweetheart, stop showing off Let's have just have the Cliffnotes version of Latovanian history, hmm?"

"Or maybe he would just get to the freakin' point," Hobbes mumbled churlishly.

"Hobbes, enough with the sarcasm." The Official decided it was time to take control before the sniping got out of hand, as it inevitably would. "Eberts, get to the point."

"Well, sir, I would do just that if certain individuals would try to be a bit more patient," came the slightly terse retort, combined with an irritated side glance at Hobbes. "Over the years, the CIA have worked to forge close relationships with various Intelligence Groups throughout the entire region, which has proved mutually beneficial to all concerned in terms of sharing of information and resources. One such group is the LMI - Latovanian Military Intelligence," he explained for good measure. "About two weeks ago, one of their teams working covertly in an area about 70 miles outside of the capital - Grudsk - filed a report to their superiors, who in turn passed it on to their local CIA contact."

Another quick tap on the keyboard and the image on screen changed from the map to that of an imposing medieval castle, its stone tower rising over 150 feet into the air, standing proudly in the center of a water-filled moat and complete with its own solid wooden drawbridge A moment later and the image morphed yet again to an aerial shot of the building and the surrounding area; a combination of lavishly landscaped grounds bordered on all sides by a lush, dense forest. And nothing else of any relevance for miles around. A seemingly impenetrable fortress in every sense of the word.

"Impressive. isn't it?" Ebert stated happily, ignoring the threatening growl coming from Bobby's general direction. " Parts of the site date back to the 13th Century."

"But what is it, Albert?" Claire asked for all of them, wishing too that her friend would just get on with it before Bobby did something drastic, fuelled by his current highly emotional state.

"It's the Belnickov Institute. Once a virtual ruin until it was restored to its former glory by its present owners, who use it now as a private clinic. A high percentage of their considerable annual income comes from offering convalescence and alternative treatments to patients with brain tumors or other injuries, or those with Parkinson's, Alzheimer's etcetera - provided their families can afford it, of course.

"It's also a medical research facility, and that's what brought it to the attention of the LMI. Their agent in place reported on the arrival of a new patient about three weeks ago…an American."

"But what makes you so sure it's Darien?" asked The Official. He wasn't prepared to let his agent's go off on some wild goose chase half-way across the world without some hard evidence. The last few weeks had thrown up too many false leads.

A smile of genuine pleasure spread across Eberts' pale face as he hit his keyboard with a flourish. "This!"

Claire gasped for all of them as the grainy picture taken with Liliana's digital camera downloaded. And there for all to see - standing with another man they didn't recognize - was Arnaud De Fehrn.

Despite his considerable bulk. The Official was up and out of his chair with an agile grace, and barking out orders as he moved back to his desk.

"Hobbes, Dr. Keeply…and Eberts," he paused to stare proudly at his assistant who visibly blushed. "I want you on the first flight to Latov…wherever. To hell with it - Eberts, let's roll out the private jet." Turning to Hobbes now he lowered his voice slightly. " If our boy is there, I want him back and you have the authority to use any means or resource at your disposal to get him, understood?."

Bobby nodded his confirmation.

"Agent Monroe," he barked, before Alex could even voice her outrage at being left out. "You're staying here with me, it's F&G business as usual for you while these three are off gallivanting around Europe.

TBC