The first sense A.J. regained was hearing. He was not quite awake yet, but he heard the sounds around him in his sleep: birds chirping; cars driving by; and someone snoring. At that moment, his eyes fluttered open, and he found himself lying on the couch that he could not recognize at first. Sitting at his feet was Rick, who had undoubtedly fallen asleep while watching over him. He tried to stay awake, but like in a bad case of flu, his body ached all over, and he was in and out of the state of consciousness.

Something awakened Rick suddenly from shallow sleep to full wakefulness. He soon realized it was his brother's restlessness that he'd felt. When he checked on his wristwatch, he cussed softly. It was already past eight.

"A.J.? A.J.? Better get up!" Rick gripped A.J.'s shoulder and gave him a few shakes, but he just moaned and didn't even open his eyes.

"It's getting late. We should get going, A.J." Rick shook his brother more vigorously. This time, A.J. tried to cover his face with the blanket, but Rick didn't let him.

"You're not waiting for Prince Charming to kiss you good morning, are you, Princess?"

A.J. rolled over on his stomach and mumbled something into the pillow.

"Come on, A.J. Wakey-wakey!"

Rick shook him a few more times. A.J.'s hand came up to push him away, but he took hold of his brother's arm and pulled him up in a kneeling position.

"Attaboy! Now, come on! Work with me. You ready to fight the evil and injustice?"

"No."

"Want some breakfast?"

"No."

"Wanna get off the couch?"

"No."

"So, how're you feelin' this morning?" asked Rick in a touch more somber tone.

A.J. gave it careful consideration before answering.

"Like Wile E. Coyote at the bottom of the canyon—with an anvil on his head."

He looked the part too, but Rick didn't let it on.

A.J. appeared disoriented and looked around in sleep-deprived daze.

"Do you remember where we are?" asked Rick.

A nod.

"Do you remember why we're here?"

Another nod. A.J. also remembered falling asleep in the armchair. He was also quite certain that he hadn't walked over to the couch in his sleep carrying a pillow and a blanket.

"Well, that's good enough for me. Okay, up you go!"

Rick put his brother's arm around his neck and helped him get off the couch.

"Now, let's put some coffee in your belly."

"I don't want any."

"It's not the matter of want, A.J. I need you to be awake and alert to help me solve this case. Like they say, two heads are better than one."

"In our case, it's more like one and a half on a good day, I'm afraid."

Although he understood exactly what A.J. had implied, Rick couldn't help but laugh because he was just glad to have his cheeky brother and partner back.

S&S S&S

When he was on the second cup of coffee, A.J. started to feel better. Not much, but he welcomed any improvement. He and Rick were sitting at the breakfast nook in the kitchen of the Fergusons, who, according to Carlos, were on a month-long safari trip in South Africa. Thankfully, Rick let him nurse his cup of coffee in peace while he was stuffing his face with pancakes drowned in syrup and butter. A.J. kept his head low so he wouldn't have to see Rick eat—it made him queasy.

"You know, I was thinking," A.J. seemed to be speaking to the table.

"Mm-Hmm…"

"The owner of the Ford truck may be a good starting point. I mean, he could be the one who was trying to pass the secret message to someone. Do you think you could ask your buddy at DMV to look into the personal records?"

Rick said something that sounded like 'bum,' or 'bun.'

"What did you say?" A.J. looked up but quickly lowered his gaze.

Rick took a swig of coffee to wash down the pancakes.

"I said, 'it's done.' And I don't think the owner of the truck's got anything to do with this case."

"What makes you think that?"

"He died a little over three months ago."

"Oh…" Surprised, A.J. finally looked his brother in the eye. "No wonder he was behind the payment."

"I did some digging. He moved here from, uh, one of Dakotas, I can't remember which, only nine months ago. His brother and ex live out of state. I guess they forgot about the car loan after the funeral."

"My, my, my. You've been a busy beaver, haven't you, Rick?" said A.J. with a look on his face that could pass for renewed respect for his older brother.

"The guy was a horticulturist with no criminal history, no tie to this community, and he wasn't exactly rolling in the dough. But for the sake of argument, let's say he wrote the message before he died. It says Tuesday but no specific date. How come it means so much to so many people all of a sudden three months after his death?"

"So, you're saying he's a dead-end? No pun intended."

"I'd say it's a safe bet."

"So, the next on the list would be…"

"Someone who had access to his truck or left the message or all of the above."

"Golden West had access, of course. And Bergman knows you drove the pickup to the bank. Well, how about a black bag job tonight?"

Rick grinned. "That's taken care of as well. You see…"

A.J. suddenly sat up in his chair, eyes wide. "You son of a… You sneaked out last night!" He screamed at Rick.

"How… Whoa, wait a minute…"

"Don't even bother denying. You…we never ask anyone to do our black bag job. Never!"

Though he remained silent, the look on Rick's face eloquently said, busted!

"You lying scumbag! You said you wouldn't leave this place last night! You promised!"

"I said no such thing. I said I'd be here when you woke up in the morning, and I was, wasn't I?"

The brothers glowered at each other across the table.

"For someone without a law degree, you have all the makings of a shyster."

To Rick's relief, his brother sounded a little more reasonable and forgiving this morning.

"I had to do something while I was up. And like I said before, we can't hide here forever shaking in our boots if we want to work on this case."

Sighing, A.J. said, "Well, I guess what's done is done, but I don't want you anywhere near the import dealer on Park for now. Okay?"

"Uh… Okay..." Rick's reply was less than emphatic or assuring.

A.J. stared at Rick in disbelief then slowly buried his head in both hands. "Oh, God. No. Tell me you didn't!"

"Hey, I really didn't go inside, I swear!"

"What did you do?"

"I just drove by the place." Rick admitted sheepishly.

"How many times?"

"Twice—on my way out and coming back here. I didn't stop or slow down or anything, all right? By the way, it's a tobacco importer and dealer called Trans-Global Trading."

A.J. could only give Rick a dirty look as he was momentarily at a loss for words.

"Okay, you wanna kill me? Fine. Take a number and get in the line," offered Rick.

"I'll take a rain-check on that, thank you. Right now, we have a more pressing business to take care of," said A.J. through the clenched teeth. "Anyway, what did you find at Golden West?"

"Not a whole lot. All the paperwork was in order. As a matter of fact, everything in the file cabinet was legit."

"What about outside the file cabinet?"

"Ah, I was getting to that," Rick cracked a little smile. "I went through Bergman's desk drawers and daily calendar, and guess what I found."

A.J. didn't respond, so, Rick moved on.

"He wrote down a phone number on the calendar yesterday. I don't know if it was before or after our meeting, and there was no name attached to it. So, I dialed the same number, and do you know who it belongs to?" Rick paused for a dramatic effect. "Your local FBI branch."

"FBI?" A.J. didn't sound angry anymore, and Rick detected a trace of intrigue in his voice.

"That might explain the guy at the office, don't you think?" asked Rick.

"He might be a Fed, sure, but even the FBI couldn't have executed a warrant for wiretapping so fast unless someone in the bureau had predicted we'd steal the message for some reason, which doesn't make any sense." A.J. took a breath before continuing. "There is something rotten in the state of Denmark, Rick."

"California, you mean."

A.J. couldn't help rolling his eyes. Rick had always been very literal.

"Don't you see, Rick? If some FBI agents suspect we're in collusion with an organized crime syndicate, why don't they just pick us up and demand the message we found in the cigarette pack? And don't forget the two men who paid me a visit last night—they're definitely not from the FBI."

Rick reassessed the situation for a few moments staring into space.

"You're right, A.J. This case's started to smell. And my nose tells me the Feds are probably in the middle of a con here."

"A con? You mean, a sting operation?"

"Uh-huh. The way I figure, the Feds are in a covert operation for God-knows-what, but the crooks know or at least suspect they're being investigated, and they're both trying to outwit each other…"

"And along came a clueless private eye disturbing the equilibrium between them, and now both sides want to know if we're working for the other side."

"Anyway, the code must be a rendezvous message…"

"But is it for the Feds, or for the thugs?"

The brothers briefly fell into a comfortable silence as they continued to ponder someone else's case they seemed to have stumbled into.

"Well, got any idea what to do next?" asked Rick.

"Thanks for asking me first before you do anything this time," A.J. still sounded a little sore at Rick. "Well, we just can't show up at the FBI office with the coded message. I mean, there must be a good reason why they didn't take us in for interrogation in the first place. And if we're involved in their sting operation, the most staff in the office probably don't have clearance to have access to or knowledge of the investigation anyway."

Rick took a quick glance at his watch.

"You know, A.J., it's always nice to have you as the sounding board."

A.J. narrowed his eyes and regarded Rick suspiciously. An unforced compliment from his brother was usually not a good sign. Moreover, Rick's smile looked phony.

"All right, Rick. Let's have it. What else do you have up your sleeve?"

"What? Why do you think I got something?"

"Don't you?" asked A.J. probingly.

"Umm…" Rick fidgeted under his brother's unwavering stare. "All right, I got a couple of surprises for you."

"Surprises? I HATE surprises, especially the ones coming from you!" A.J. had a sinking feeling but couldn't tell if it was nausea from the concussion he'd suffered, or dread for the impending doom.

Rick kept smiling to reassure his brother. "Relax. These are nice surprises."
"I'll be the judge of that," snapped A.J.

"Just hear me out, okay? What would you say if I told you we got enough changes of clothes to last us a week? Huh?"

"How did you manage to get them?"

"Compliments of Mr. Escobar, of course. We have street clothes, suits, outfits for undercover work, you name it, all loaded in the back of the station wagon for our convenience."

"Carlos? I hope you checked them out for fleas."

Rick continued to smile that phony smile of his, and A.J. was sure the next surprise was going to be a doozy.

"You said you got a couple of surprises—what's the second one?"

"I guarantee you, you're gonna love this one."

"I doubt it. And quit stalling. Get to the point, Rick."

"All right, fine. We're going to have a date with a beautiful young lady at ten this morning."

"WHAT?" A.J. had been bracing himself for one of those wacky schemes Rick was known to come up with from time to time, but this one came out of nowhere and bushwhacked him. "We may be risking life and limb to get out there and investigate this case, and all you can think of is satisfying your libido?"

"Hey, have a little faith in your brother, will ya? It's not what you think—we're going to see Janet."

"Janet?" A.J became visibly upset. "What the hell were you thinking, Rick? We can't involve anyone in a risky case like this one, especially someone so close to us."

"Too late to call it off. For your information, she's the one who requested we meet. And I took all the precautions and made indirect contacts through Carlos using pay phones, all right? Look, Carlos can bring us stuff, but we need someone who can help us on the investigative side. She has brains and resources. It's kinda hard to work on a case while laying low, you know."

A.J. closed his eyes overwhelmed by all the information Rick had been firing at him.

"How in the world did you get her to agree to see us?"

Rick mumbled something.

"What? Speak up, Rick. I can't hear you."

"'Cause I hinted that you're in trouble!" Rick yelled in defiance.

"Excuse me? I'M in trouble?"

"What do you think she would've said if I'd told her I was in trouble?"

A.J. had to admit Rick had a point there, but he always hated when his brother was right.