Ros walked into the UMTB branch on Old Broad street, scanning the large room with her eyes as she made her way over to the manager's desk. Once at the desk, she smiled at the stodgy man with the grumpy look sitting there, and offered him her credentials.

"Good afternoon Mr. Bridgeport, I'm Candice McNeil, a systems manager for your security system company, Synectics."

The manager stood warily, extending his hand in greeting, "Good afternoon, Ms. McNeil," his brow furrowed, "is there something I can help you with?"

Ros smiled smoothly, "Yes, Mr. Bridgeport, there is." She indicated the chair in front of his desk, "May I?"

"Yes, of course." Bridgeport waited for her to be seated then sat down himself. "You were saying, Ms. McNeil?"

"As part of our desire to constantly improve our systems, Synectics periodically sends systems managers, like me, into the field to physically check over the alarm, video monitoring, network redundancies, retrieval, and access control integration systems to not only ensure that they are optimally functioning, but also to see what improvements we can apply to your specific system."

Bridgeport's eyes narrowed slightly, "Ah, I see."

He stared at her for a moment, and Ros merely smiled, allowing the discomfort to continue for another moment.

"Is now a convenient time for me to check the systems, Mr. Bridgeport?"

The man looked at her credentials, back at her and said, "Just a moment, please."

"Certainly."

Bridgeport stood and walked several desks away and picked up a colleagues phone, dialing the number for Synectics security systems. It rang twice and a voice answered.

"Synectics Security, system operations, Raheed speaking." Tariq kept his voice even as he waited for the inevitable question.

"Yes, yes, this is Miles Bridgeport, manager of the United Mizrahi Tefahot Bank on Old Broad Street."

"Yes, Mr. Bridgeport, how may I help?"

"A woman, a Ms. Candice McNeil appeared unannounced at my bank just now claiming that she is a systems manager for Synectics and is here to check our security systems. I need to verify that she works for you."

"Yes, Mr. Bridgeport," Tariq smiled, "Ms. McNeil does indeed work for us. You're in good hands with her."

"Oh, yes, well, very good then, thank you very much."

"You're welcome, sir, thank you for calling Synectics Security."

Bridgeport hung up the phone and walked back to his desk, and Ros, who was perched on her chair like a cat awaiting a mouse.

"Thank you for waiting, Ms. McNeil. If you're ready to begin, I can escort you to the basement, where our equipment is housed."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Bridgeport."

"Do you need to get anything before we go down, tools, or something?"

Ros pat the silver briefcase she had with her, "No thank you, Mr. Bridgeport, we prefer not to advertise who were are or why we're here during these types of visitations; everything I need is right in here. But thank you ever so kindly."

She followed Bridgeport to the elevators, and the two of them disappeared into the bowels of the bank.

Ruth shifted on the uncomfortable, cold concrete floor she had been thrown onto at the end of the ride in the back of the truck. Her hands were still bound behind her back, and even though she was leaning as best she could against a wall, she couldn't find a good position. She wondered how long she had been gone, having lost track of time. She wondered who had her and why; no one had yet to speak to her. Surely they wanted some kind of information and were planning an interrogation at some point? Why else would they have taken her? It wasn't like MI5 would pay a ransom. It had to be for information.

She wondered if Lucas and the team were looking for her. She wondered how much longer she was going to be left to sit in the small square room. She wondered what he was doing right now.

Oh Harry, please come find me.

"Lucas," Harry hissed, "my office. Now."

Lucas had just returned from Ruth's flat, where there was no sign of struggle, but also no sign of Ruth. He didn't relish telling Harry.

Harry stood impatiently at the door of his office and as soon as Lucas was through it, slammed it shut and bellowed, "WELL?"

"There was nothing, Harry."

"What do you mean, nothing? There had to be something. A clue, something askew?"

Lucas shook his head, "I'm sorry, Harry. There was nothing out of place, nothing knocked over, no sign of a struggle."

Harry plopped defeatedly into his chair, "And also no sign of Ruth…"

"I'm afraid not."

Harry sighed. "What was she working on in the past week?"

"Analysis for the Zadat drug cartel infiltration, some of the preliminary chatter for this new op… did you have her on anything?"

Harry frowned, "No. Well, something…"

Lucas looked at Pearce. He recognized the look Harry got any time something dawned on him. "What is it, Harry?"

"I had Ruth examining all of the recent entering and exiting at the JIC."

Lucas' eyes widened, "You are investigating the JIC? Under whose authority?" When Harry just stared at him, Lucas felt his stomach drop and he sat down. "Oh God, Harry. You took it upon yourself to investigate the JIC. Have you gone mad?"

"Probably." Lucas just looked at him incredulously so Harry continued. "Look, the business is odd. It's more than just odd. Several long-time committee members are suddenly involved in scandals that get them removed from the JIC? One or two maybe, but what are the odds of more than that?"

"Are you really asking me, that?"

"I'll rephrase, what are the odds that so many would be caught at the same time?"

"Now I see your point," Lucas said. "But you've told no one you're doing this, I assume."

"Of course not."

"Except Ruth," Lucas said.

"Except Ruth," echoed Harry.

"You don't supposed," Lucas said slowly, that Oliver Mace might have found you out?"

Harry stood angrily, "I don't see how that little ferret of a man could find the men's room on a cloudy day, much less root out old Ruth. She's way too smart for him."

"True. Ruth wouldn't have exactly left any trace of her snooping about."

"No, she wouldn't."

"You're sure no one else knew?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Harry's eyes squinted together, "But then… If Oliver was behind the mass exodus, he would know that I would find such a coincidence unbelievable, and he would know exactly who I would put on it to uncover the truth."

Harry angrily moved toward the door, but Lucas caught his arm. "Harry, you can't walk into the JIC and accuse the chairman of orchestrating the take down of several committee members without proof. Besides, why would he do this?"

Harry broke from Lucas' grip, but didn't walk out the door. "I don't yet have any idea why he would do this, Lucas, but if there's one thing I know about Oliver Mace, he's a plotter, and a manipulator, and if this wasn't some magnificent coincidence, you can lay odds he was behind it to somehow serve his own agenda." Harry licked his lips and snarled, "And you can also be sure that I will get to the bottom of it."

"Yes," Lucas said calmly, "but meanwhile… Ruth."

"Yes, Ruth." Harry sat back down in his chair, thinking aloud. "Lucas, it occurs to me that perhaps some of the ousted former committee members might have something to say about all this, eh?"

Lucas smiled, but cautioned Harry, "Probably, but if you approach them, the cat will be out of the bag, and there will be no putting it back in. Mace will know what you are up to and you will lose any element of surprise you might have had."

"If Oliver's behind this, he's known from the start that I would come for him, and he somehow thinks he has covered his tracks and left nothing to hang a hat on." Harry looked at Lucas then, concern coloring his features. "Or, perhaps his plan all along was to just eliminate by best weapon."

"Ruth."

"Yes," Harry breathed, "Ruth."