Disclaimer: nope, not mine

Kestrel: Ah! sorry about the divider error-those things get erased when I paste my word docs onto I changed it. Since my knowledge of cars stretches to four wheels and shininess, I did the best I could with the car description :)

Loosh: Yay! wow, it's really weird having to respond to someone I already know- I think I already hugged you a million times for reviewing. You can come over and watch NT treasure with me anytime wiggles eyebrows err, that sounded wrong….

A/N-Sorry it took so long to update, my playdirector is a dictator (he just quit drinking Diet Coke-not in the best of moods)-I promise I'll be faster in the future. Please Review!

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Chapter Seven

As Riley's comment broke the awe and wonder of the moment, the foursome dispersed. Ben claimed the position in the small steering cabin on the deck, captaining the boat and checking the radar. Abigail and Claire started to lug their bags down into the cabins below, ad Riley began to set up his tech station on deck to check the weather and God knows what else.

Leaden with luggage, Claire staggered down the dark staircase and dumped everything in the first room that divulged from the narrow belowdecks hallway. The room was dark and musty, covered by knotted wood, with a small oil lamp resting on a lone table in the corner. Expecting bunks, as was common in modernized ships, Claire was surprised to see hammocks nailed into the walls, one raised above the other and accessible by a ladder nailed into the wall. Cringing, she stepped out of the room and into what appeared to be the only other cabin, only to see that that room as well had hammocks.

Abbie was unloading her and Ben's luggage into the room. "Ben and I will take this one, and you and Riley can sleep in the other one." she instructed.

Claire wanted to protest badly, but she knew it would be extremely rude to break up the Gates because she didn't want to share a room with the annoying conspiracy theorist.

"Alright" she agreed hesitantly, and missed the smirk on Abigail's face as she left the room. Venturing further down the hall, she found the one tiny bathroom they had and a small study with a old desk and a small window.

She eagerly sat down and began spreading her papers across it, ready to take more notes. When packed into a tight environment, she was known to retreat into any private space available to keep herself from going crazy. Maybe, she hypothesized, by the time she was forced to go to bed Riley will have already fallen overboard. Hey, she could dream.

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Walking down the hallways of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI headquarters, Ian felt decidedly out of place. He'd been to the place dozens of times, but most of them were for questioning. He'd never actually used the visitor's enterance before. He was half expecting someone to recognize him and pull a gun. However, the receptionist he had asked for the location of Agent Dawes was perfectly friendly, and now he was being escorted to the agent's office.

"Mr. Howe?" a voice questioned behind him

Ian turned and was met with a woman who looked strangely farmiliar. She was around his age, perhaps younger, with dark hair and eyes. She was quite pretty, but if she was an agent and they'd met before, then this was definitely someone he needed to stay away from.

"Yes, that's me." he said cautiously.

"I'm Agent Dawes." she informed him. "I'm the lead agent on your sister's case. I guess I should also congratulate you on your recent leave from jail. I had no idea that the state penitentiary system was so..…… lenient."

Oh Crap he thought. That's where I recognize her from

She was one of Sadusky's little minions who were on the Declaration case years ago.

"Why thank you." he replied smoothly, ignoring her sarcasm. "As much as I would love to discuss the judicial system with you, I think that the fact that some lunatic is after my sister is a bit more pressing, don't you?"

Following her into her office, he sat down on a chair across from her desk. "I want all the information you've compiled on Claire's case. Names, everything."

"I'm sorry Mr. Howe," she said, not sounding extremely sorry,"But as you are a civilian, I'm not allowed to discuss a working case with you. I can only tell you that we're doing all we can to find the man after your sister."

Ian leaned in toward her on his elbows, eyes flashing, and Kathrine Dawes realized how much she'd underestimated how dangerous Ian Howe could look.

"Look, Agent Dawes, I know you have your bloody FBI protocol, but when my baby sister is being threatened, I advise that you take that particular rule and shove it up your ass."

Dawes raised her eyebrows and tried not to look intimidated. "Or what Mr. Howe? You'll steal another National Historical document?" she monotoned.

"No-I'll start conducting investigations of my own, and when I find the guy, you better believe that there won't be anything left to interrogate."

It was rather hard to contend with an argument like that.

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Riley stuck his head into the steering chamber. "Hey Ben, I finished my weather analyzation and tracking program. I can scan and extract data for about 200 miles in all directions, so we'll be able to see it a storm's coming. I also installed a tracking device in the boat so we can see our location at all times, in case we drift off course during the night."

Ben raised his eyebrows. "I'm guessing that this is through piggybacking government satellites?"

Riley grinned. "Think of it as my personal way of sticking it to the man."

Killing the engine, Ben yawned and stretched. "What time is it? We should probably head to bed. I don't think we have to worry about a storm tonight, its really calm out there."

Following him out of the steering cabin, Riley protested. "Someone should keep watch? We are in the Bermuda Triangle. Ships don't just disappear out here because they get lost."

"Are you volunteering Riley?"

Not exactly up to sitting up all night, Riley shut up.

As he walked down belowdecks for the first time, Riley crinkled his nose. It smelled really weird down here, all musty and old. And was really dark.

"You're going to sleep in there with Claire," Ben pointed. "Me and Abbie will be right across the hall."

Riley groaned. "You're making me sleep with the mean pirate girl?"

"Riley, there was only two rooms. Please, try to be civil. We're going to have to work together for a while." Ben reasoned

Grumbling, Riley dumped himself down on the lower hammock and tried to get into a comfortable position. The damn hammock kept on moving-and try sleeping on a bunch of ropes!

"Ben, my bed won't stop moving!" he complained.

"Riley, you can sleep practically anywhere. Just…count sheep or something." Ben yelled from across the hall.

Huddling on his hammock, Riley slowly slipped into a fitful sleep where he dreamed he was being chased by sheep, all which strangely had blonde hair.

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"We've traced the calls from Derrickson's phone." Agent Dawes explained to him. "They came from a pay phone in Massachusetts."

"Could you work on a voice-recognition program? Compare it to any suspects you might have?" Ian questioned.

"No-we haven't brought anyone in for questioning-we don't want to attract any attention. " she explained. "We're trying to get ahold of Dr. Robinson, but he hasn't been answering his phone, and his students say he called in sick last week."

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like he's been up to something. Claire said that he was going to find her a private sponser, so maybe he got mixed up with the wrong people."

"He's a renowned Harvard professor." Dawes said skeptically, flipping through his file. 'I'm sure he could find a perfectly legal sponser."

Ian shrugged. "Maybe someone from his past found out about it and contacted him-said they wanted a piece of it. You should do a background check of him, see if he got mixed up in anything illegal before he became a stuff."

Dawes laughed. "I already did-there was nothing. Apparently he's always been a 'stuff' as you british call them."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Yes, you did a legal search. I'll call one of my hackers and see if we can get any real dirt on him."

"Mr. Howe, you do realize that you just told an FBI agent who would very much like to put you back in jail that you're going to employ someone to perform an illegal activity. I simply can't just sit back and let you resort to illegal methods to solve our cases."

Ian turned on her, the dangerous look back in his eye. "Dawes, let's just get one thing clear before we start working together. There's a way that the FBI does things, and there's a way that I do things. If we're going to find the guy who's after my sister, you're going to have to be willing to do some things my way."

Agent Dawes thought it over. The FBI had obviously worked with ex-criminals before, but it was highly unorthodox and frowned upon to let them use their not-so-ex criminal buddies to help solve a crime. Then again, her mentor had once told her that the unorthodox way was usually the best way and "The FBI protocol rules are more like….. suggestions."

And Grant Sadusky was one hell of an FBI agent.

"Alright." she finally relented. "But I want the names of the hackers and any other activies you partake in. We do nothing your way unless I give you permission first.

Ian grinned "Deal."

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"Robert Maynar was born July 8th, 1976. Oh no, wait, not 1976..crap…what year was he born?" Claire grumbled to herself. It was almost two in the morning, and she was having trouble concentrating. As much as she hated to admit it, she was going to have to go to bed sometime. Falling asleep while taking notes was nothing new to her, but it caused some painful neck cricks the next morning that she really wasn't up to in a sans-Advil environment. Pushing herself up of her chair, she stumbled down the hallway and into her room.

Light snoring told her that Riley was asleep. Dismayed, she realized that he occupied the lower hammock, which meant that she was going to have to climb up to the top one. While it was only a short five-foot climb, the hammock was then a good foot to the left, which would require a small side leap. Not a good idea.

However, it was that or the floor, so Claire uneasily grasped th ladder and jerkily climbed to the top. Looking to the hammock, she relalized that it looked much farther at the top of tha ladder.

C'mon Claire, you can do this she prepped herself. You aced your Harvard math midterm junior year, you can make a measly side leap onto a hammock.

Steeling herself, she made an awkward lurch from the ladder and by sheer luck managed to land in the hammock.

Unfortunately, her less-than-precise aim landed her on the side of the hammock, and she had milliseconds of triumph before the hammock tipped and dumped her on what would have been the ground.

However, with the strategic placing of the hammocks, Claire instead, to her horror, fell directly onto Riley Poole.

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