"Damn these things," Ed muttered as he stepped into the security room, pen in one hand, folded newspaper in the other. He climbed the steps to his old office—Danny's office—and immediately noticed the haggard look of his young protégé.

"You look like crap, kid."

Danny had been so lost in thought that he hadn't even noticed Ed. "Uh…hey, Ed…um, yeah…I've just been busy and… I haven't been sleeping very well."

"And when the hell was the last time you ate?"

Danny couldn't remember—yesterday maybe.

"Get your coat, kid. I've been dying for a big, juicy burger. I'm tired of all this healthy, fancy crap that Jillian makes me eat. Let's go."

"Ed, I…uh…there's a lot going on here. And someone needs to keep an eye on Delinda. I really shouldn't leave the casino," Danny made a show of shuffling papers around on his desk—desperately looking for something specific he could cite as a reason not to leave.

"Don't be an idiot—Frank's with Delinda. We'll be back in an hour." It was at this point Danny realized that arguing with his boss would probably attract more attention than just going and getting it over with. He picked his phone up off the desk and put it in his coat pocket; only half listening as Ed invited Mike to join them.

---

Hank's was a dive about five miles outside of town. It was smoky, and dark and loud as hell. Televisions hung precariously from wall brackets, blaring different sporting events to every corner of the bar.

"Thank you, darlin'," Ed told their waitress as she delivered three baskets, overflowing with burgers and fries--grease all but dripping from the red and white checked paper.

"Damn this thing."

"What are you working on, boss," Mike asked the older man.

"These damn crossword puzzles. Jillian says they're supposed to sharpen my mind—help my memory. It's all a load of bull, if you ask me."

"I read an article about that in Scientific American. It really is supposed to help older people retain their mental abilities."

"Are you calling me old, Cannon?"

"What?" Mike stuttered, "No…I just…I mean. Hey, does anyone need more ketchup?" Mike jumped from the table and headed to find their waitress.

"See, this right here," Ed said, mostly to himself. "A four letter word for 'the object of your affection'. I have no freakin' idea."

Danny was playing with his fries, mostly ignoring the conversation, when Ed slid the newspaper in front of him. "Take a look at this and tell me if you can figure it out."

"What?" Danny suddenly looked up. "Ed, I'm not good at those things."

"That makes two of us. Look, it needs to come off this word right here," Ed said, indicating the blank with his pen.

Danny finally glanced down at the crossword puzzle and noticed immediately what Ed was trying to show him. Written down the side of the page the word M-A-S-Q-U-E-R-A-D-E stood out in bold, blue letters and off the "M" three dash marks had been laid out——obviously written by Ed-- waiting to be filled in.

Danny's stomach jumped to his throat as he stared at the words. As his eyes met Ed's and his mouth automatically opened to speak the older man shook his head from side to side and tapped lightly on Danny's cell phone sitting on the table. After several long moments Danny glanced nervously around the restaurant—searching for any sign that they were being watched. When he was sure they weren't he cautiously took the pen from Ed and shakily filled in the letters A-R-Y in the blanks.

"Finally! I thought I'd never figure this thing out. Any others you want to take a crack at. I can tell Jillian I figured it out all on my own and then maybe she'll get off my back." All the worry and fear of the past few days poured out through his fingers and Danny frantically began writing.

He wrote everything he could remember about the last three days, making sure to emphasize to Ed that they were watching and listening to his every move. Once he'd given the older man every bit of information he could think of he hesitated only a moment before writing one more word at the bottom of the paper and underlining it for emphasis—pregnant.

Ed's gaze moved sharply to Danny as he read the last word and the security chief simply nodded—his downcast expression telling the older man everything he needed to know.

"I got the ketchup." It was at that point Mike returned to the table and Ed gave Danny's hand a reassuring pat.

"It's about damn time. My fries are almost cold."

"So, what'd I miss?"

"Just this stupid puzzle. You take a crack at it," Ed tossed the paper to Mike so he could read everything Danny had just written. Mike, too, was stunned when he reached the last word on the page. He looked up at Danny with a mix of wonder and pity in his eyes. Danny couldn't take it. On the one hand he was relieved they both knew what was going on and that they were mindful of the severity of the situation, but on the other hand his terror had increased tenfold with the thought that the kidnappers would somehow discover his newfound allies.

"I've got to…," Danny nodded his head towards the men's room and left Mike and Ed alone, grabbing his phone just in case.

Once he was out of sight, Mike turned to his boss. "Omigod, Mr. D. What the hell are we going to do?"

"We're going to get her back. I'm going to make arrangements to get $5,000,000 in cash. When this does go down I don't want Danny taking the money from the casino. He's going to need to concentrate all his energy on Mary when this is over and it won't do him any good to be worrying about the cops."

"That's a lot of money. What if these guys get away?"

"There's no price I wouldn't pay for any of you."

Mike stopped shredding the newspaper and looked up--humbled by the older man's admission.

"Besides, I have no intention of letting these guys get away. We've got to get one step ahead of them, Mike. Obviously, Danny can't do any research on this thing, but I want you to start checking into the personnel files again. Do it from home. See if there are any similarities between the guys who committed suicide at the other casinos and anyone on our staff."

"You got it."

---

Mary could hear voices, but they sounded like they were a million miles away. She opened her eyes and immediately noticed that the hatch to her cell was open. She wanted to move—to try to escape—but her body wouldn't let her. With every ounce of strength she had, Mary scooted herself towards the opening and tried to concentrate on what the men were saying.

"I'm telling you—she's burning up with fever. If we don't get her to a doctor soon…"

"What difference does it make," a second voice interrupted. "What are the odds McCoy's not going to get stupid and mess this whole thing up?"

"He's been following orders—doing everything we tell him. The least we could do is make sure she's still alive when this whole thing is over."

"Listen to you. You sound like you've gone soft."

"I haven't gone soft. I'm just thinking about the future. If McCoy does everything just like he's supposed to and she ends up dead anyway our credibility is out the window. Any future jobs are in jeopardy because the targets will think that we don't hold up our end of the bargain."

Mary was drifting in and out, but she tried to hold onto the sound of the voices. There was something so familiar about one of them, but she just couldn't get her mind to focus enough to figure out what it was.

"Fine, we'll speed up the timetable. Get everything ready to go—we move out in the morning."