Alex flopped down on his hotel bed.

"He's in charge of this case? Are you sure that's what Mr. Byrne said?"

"Yes, Heather. We're only here for looks. Besides we can't do anything here. He can. I don't like it either. I also wasn't allowed to see his file, but apparently he's good, although I don't believe that he-"

"-And he has a name. It's Alex. And last I checked you can't do anything on this soil so you guys are here for my cover. You don't like that you can talk to your boss. I didn't want you either. Last time I worked with CIA agents I was for the cover, they died, and I almost got adopted by a psychopath. I'm praying that doesn't happen again," Alex cut in. He had sat up in his bed and stared the two agents. "Let's start over. Hi I'm Alex. I'm on loan from MI6 and you are?"

"Heather."

"Mark."

"Great. Now we are supposed to look like a family who just moved here, so we should head down to dinner soon. I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up if anything happens." With that Alex rolled over and closed his eyes, ignoring the rushed murmured whispers. He had to catch up some sleep.

"What you got Sam?"

"Apparently the site is one of many ran by a scamming group going by SCA. Head's name is Eugene Steward. He frequents an outdoor restaurant called Coco Kabash*. Nice place by the way. Great Mojitos too."

"Thanks, Sam."

Ten minutes later, Michael was walking across a park when he bumped into a blonde teenager.

"Sorry," the teen breathed before running off to join in a pick up soccer game.

Michael stared after the teen for a second, before continuing forward. Locating Eugene Steward's table, Michael pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Mister Steward. Nice to finally meet your acquaintance. I'm Alex Adkins. We're in the same business you see," Michael introduced with a British accent.

"Pleasure. I can't say I've heard of you, though. Where are you from?"

"You wouldn't have. As from where I'm from, I'm originally of England."

"Really what area? My sister married a man from England. Haven't heard of her since, but that's family."

"Chelsea. On the outside edge though."

"So how did you come to hear of me."

"I hear things," Michael replied. At this point the blonde teen entered the restaurant with two adults. Michael would say they were his parents except that he knew them. Heather Nickelson and Mark Kennets, two unmarried CIA agents. "Why don't you give me a call at this number? We can set up a meeting that will be for your benefit in a...quieter place. Goodbye." Michael left hastily, not before noticing the blonde teen watching him, Mark and Heather glancing at him.

"So that a friend of yours? Or are you just surprised at the food choices?" Alex asked in his American accent, watching the man he bumped into earlier.

"Michael Westen...Burned spy. I heard he was doing freelance," Mark whispered.

"I'll meet you back at the hotel. I need to make a call." Alex stood up and walked out of the restaurant. He picked up his phone and walked through the park to the seemingly empty parking lot.

"Hi. Centurion International Advertising? Can I speak to Joe Byrne?"

"Who is this?" The snarky receptionist asked.

"Tell him it's his favorite teenager," Alex shot back.

"Alex! How is it going?" Joe asked.

"Oh I don't know. We've only been here one day and a burned spy of yours is already here too! The name Michael Westen ring any bells."

"I don't have any control there Alex. I'm sorry. Nice American accent by the way."

"Thanks. I pride myself on it. You know Mr. Byrne, I hate you guys, but I still like you better than M16. You guys at least are considerate. But you're walking a thin line. Can you try with your burned spy?"

"I'll do my best. See you Alex."

With that Alex hung up and walked away. Unknown to him, the car behind him had two people behind the darkly tinted windows, who hear one side of his conversation.