Aizen headed down the hall to Analysis later that day, his resentful mood at Paulson's corruption verging on something more lethal. He hadn't seen it coming, and while it meant the Division would be looking at him more closely, it also meant he had new partners.

Never a good change.

He pushed through the door to Analysis and looked around at the chest high cubicle maze, the buzz and drone of phone-speak adding to his foul mood. It took a few moments of winding through the canals of cubicles and looking over the semi-walls before he found the name for which he was looking.

She didn't look up at him, her shiny black hair turned away, attention on the computer monitor before her. Aizen glanced at the file in his hand. She was a black woman in her early thirties, mid-level analyst, certified in knowledge status four. He cleared his throat.

She ignored him.

"Shoren Dayle-Tomason?"

Her eyes remained on the screen. "Put it on the stack."

Aizen reached over the side of the cubicle and clicked off the computer screen. She looked to him.

"Hey, I was working on that!"

"Now you're working on something else. I'm Sousuke Aizen. You're my partner now."

She made a face of disapproval. "What?"

"You heard me. Let's go get us a cutter.'

She didn't move. He shrugged, sighing. "Ichimaru assigned you to me."

"Bullshit." She crossed her arms, staring back at him, glancing at his identification tag. "I'm not Field. I'm busy. Get out of here."

"Come on."

Aizen started the trek out of the cubicle maze. It wasn't until he got to the door to the hall that Shoren caught up with him.

"Why me?" she asked as she hurried to match his strides.

"Don't know."

She brushed the wrinkles from her pants, straightening her gray shirt, mumbling. "I wasn't briefed."

"You can read up on it later." He glanced at her, frowning at the pout on her moderately attractive face, eyes dropping over her petit figure.

She scowled at him as they turned down the hall to the Photography Labs. "You know this isn't Faceting, right -- what's your name again?"

"Aizen."

"Yeah, well, this is Photography. You're looking for a cutter here?"

He nodded and opened the door marked Dark Rooms. Inside was the usual array of equipment, but Aizen went straight to the door at the right wall where a red light was on overhead. Behind him Shoren stood with her arms crossed, one foot tapping.

Aizen knocked on the door.

"Stay out!" a man yelled from inside.

Aizen pounded on the door until it opened a few inches and a man in his early twenties looked out. "What?"

"Are you Ryan Esparo?"

"Who are you?" Esparo's eyes dropped to the name tag Aizen wore. "Sir."

Aizen frowned at the man in front of him. Dark hair cut short, gelled to a spike, gray and slate uniform more tailored on his athletic build than most he'd seen. "You're GIA certified?"

Esparo grinned, opening the door a few more inches. "Yeah. Working on my EGL, too."

"I'm your new partner now." He handed a file to the younger man.

"Field? All right!" Esparo emerged from the dark room.

Aizen stuck another file into Shoren's reluctant hands. "Esparo, this is Thomason, your other partner. Learn this file. It's our target. Be ready in the morning."

Aizen abruptly left the lab room, leaving Shoren and Esparo to look at each other.

She groaned, and then looked to Esparo's face, which was giddy with anticipation as he flipped through the file. "Ready for what?"

Daniel Scott arrived at the Astoria Hotel ten minutes to nine that night. It wasn't the Astoria New York City was known for; a lesser but elegant hotel that had gained notoriety of a sort by being confused with the grander landmark. It made Daniel a little more comfortable as he headed to the bar in the lounge and sat at the counter.

The bar was surprisingly empty for the time of night, and the few people at the bar were on the other side of the room, huddled in corners in pairs.

For a few moments Ichigo watched Daniel Scott at the counter, sizing him up, knowing the type from a dozen other meetings.

Frustrated accountant, small-time broker, insurance adjuster.

It was always the same. Of the few contacts that Ichigo had developed a trust with over the last five years, it had always been this type in New York. He watched the man look around nervously. It looked like George's work, to Ichigo.

He smashed out the cigarette he'd only half smoked, and got up and crossed the room as Daniel ordered himself a drink and put the furniture business card in front of him on the counter.

Ichigo stood beside him, eyes on the card. "Are you looking for antiques?"

Daniel looked to him quickly, surprised to see someone of his own age. "No. I -- George sent me. You know him?"

Ichigo nodded. "I know him." He waited as the bartender set Daniel's drink before him and left before nodding to the corner table at which he'd been sitting. "Join me."

They settled on either side of the small table and Ichigo reached into his shirt pocket for his cigarettes. "You're looking for various investments?"

Scott nodded. "I'm not interested in antique furniture."

"Well, I don't sell it." He found a lighter in his twill pants pocket and lit the cigarette, promising himself for the fiftieth time he'd quite. Again. "Have you considered gemstones?"

Daniel frowned. "Like diamonds?"

Ichigo nodded. "Like diamonds, and other stones."

"I don't know." Daniel shrugged, turning the glass of Scotch in his hand. "I was thinking about precious metals or coins."

"Bad idea."

"Oh?"

It's was the same in every city, big or small, Ichigo thought. "Each investment coin minted in the last twenty years has a tracking chip embedded in it. The American Gold eagles, Canadian Maple Leafs, Swiss Olympics, all of them. Government knows how much you have, where your have it, even if you don't use a deposit service. The IRS has been requiring forms from coin dealers since 1983. Same with bullion. And everything post-1933 is open to confiscation by Uncle Sam."

Daniel shook his head, downing half his drink. "I don't know anything about gemstones."

Neither spoke as a man and woman dressed for a night on the town passed by the table. Ichigo watched the couple move out of earshot.

"Well, you can compound your investment if you sold to the right person," he said, taking a drag on the cigarette he'd neglected.

Daniel looked at him sharply. "Nothing dirty."

Ichigo grinned at the irony. "Quite the opposite. A simple exchange."

Daniel considered this for a moment, studying the man across the table from him. "I'd like to see them first."

"Of course."

Daniel nodded. "When?"

Ichigo finished his drink. "The Five A.M Diner on Fifty-Third, at ten tomorrow morning. Cash only, and bring a lot of it."

Aizen tossed the stapled stack of papers onto the table with the other two stacks the next morning. It was difficult enough finding clean, unwashed gemstones with a knowledgeable partner like Paulson, and nearly impossible with two new recruits.

Like these, he thought, looking at Esparo and Shoren at the table in the briefing room. Not an ounce of field experience between them, and he was granted permission to track down one of the largest, most lucrative targets of his career. Damn Paulson, he thought.

And Ichimaru for assigning them to him.

Shoren was looking at the six names highlighted on her stack of papers. Her eyes lingered on the name of Daniel Scott. "Go where the stones would. Look for Kurosaki's next client. It'll lead right to him."

"Eventually," Esparo added.

Aizen shook his head, glancing at the names highlighted on the top paper. "You know how to do that, Thomason?"

She tapped the first name that was yellowed over. "We know he was trying to list with Sotheby's --"

"His former client was trying to list untreated stones with Sotheby's," Aizen reminded.

Esparo sat back from the table and set his feet up on the side, looking over the stack of paper he held. Aizen gave him a sour look, which he didn't see. His eyes narrowed at the younger man. He knew exactly how this guy was going to be. The meticulously trimmed sideburns, new haircut, the smile he kept forcing on Shoren, the eager-for-all-the-wrong-reasons attitude. He'd seen it all before, but never had to work with it.

"Off the table, Esparo."

Esparo looked up from his papers, and set his feet back on the floor. "A lot of stones trickle out of New York. Some right through our own fingers. There was a guy in the Division last week --"

"We know about Paulson," Aizen snapped, throwing him a dirty look before turning his attention on Shoren. "Go for the client, eh? Get me taps on every line coming off those six names. How soon can you do it?"

She took a moment to check the addresses on the page. "We can do the offices from here. Run the A.N.I. and see if anything pops up."

"Give her a hand, Ryan. You've got thirty minutes."

* * *

Ichigo sat in the Five A.M. Diner at a booth that overlooked the parking lot. He'd had his third cup of coffee by 10:15, and had checked his watch every two minutes since 10:05.

No sign of Daniel Scott.

Another no-show, he thought, draining the cup. He looked to the waitress at the counter, who'd been eyeing him since he'd attempted smoking in what he'd learned was a smoke-free establishment. Last time I use this place, he thought, returning half a grin to the waitress as a phone rang from deeper within the cafe.

Ichigo glanced around at the two old men at another booth in the corner, the only other patrons of the cafe.

"Hey," the waitress called to him from the counter. "Are you Ichigo?"

He nodded, getting out of the booth and meeting her at the counter. "What's up?"

"Some guy on the phone for you." She put her hands on her bony hips, making her angular collarbones jut out above her pink blouse. She nodded to a phone set at the back of the counter. "Make it quick. It ain't a public phone."

Dammit, Ichigo thought. "Yeah, thanks." He rounded the counter and picked up the receiver. "I'm here." It was Daniel Scott on the other end of the line. Ichigo listened for a moment. "Yeah, you're not here ... Okay. I'll be there."

* * *

At the same moment across the city, Shoren and Esparo had just completed their phone taps on the six names highlighted on the list from the earlier meeting with Aizen. Shoren sat at what was to become her new desk, across from Esparo's desk, with Aizen's facing the sides of theirs in the Field Dispatch unit among the collection of three other agents. The first readout lurched out of the printer at Shoren's desk.

"Hey, we got something already," Esparo said, glancing to where Aizen was hunkered over the Kurosaki file at his own desk. Esparo leaned across his and Shoren's desks to see the paper in her hands. "Daniel Scott's line. A call to the Five A.M. Diner."

Shoren frowned at him hovering over her. "A little space here, Ryan."

He only nodded. Aizen looked to her. "Where to?"

Shoren's eyes scanned the short dialogue between the diner and the office building. "Fifty-Third and Wall. Uh, not much, but they're meeting at a parking structure just outside Scott's investment firm. Twenty minutes."

Aizen nodded, dropping the file and standing. "Let's go."

* * *

Ichigo wound the rental car up and through the second floor of the parking structure ten minutes later. He hated the parking facilities. They were limiting, trapping, and hard to maneuver while in a hurry. He frowned at the rows of cars, checking the numbers on the elevators, until he came to the one Daniel Scott had specified.

He parked a section away and took the long way back, seeing no one else on the level, satisfied it would remain relatively inactive until noon when the lunch hour broke. He found the elevator and stepped in, relieved it was empty, and pushed the buttons for the fourth floor. A moment later the doors opened and Daniel looked in at him, nervously, from the fourth level parking.

The advisor quickly entered the elevator and pushed a button. The doors slid closed, and Ichigo looked to him.

"Couldn't get to the diner. Do you have them?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah." Ichigo nodded and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He unwrapped the cloth to reveal three almost black stones, and one that was a pinkish-orange.

Daniel groaned, frowning at the gemstones. "They're ugly."

Ichigo chuckled. "You wanted investment stones, not gifts."

"I do. What are they?" He pushed the orange stone with his finger.

"The orange are padparadscha sapphire. A little under three carats total weight. "$18,300 for the three."

Daniel took his hand away as if burned. "$18,000?"

Ichigo nodded. "Yeah." He separated the black stone from the others on the cloth. "This is an alexandrite. Half carat." He took a penlight from his jean pocket and shone it on the dark stone. It shone a luminous blue-green. He flicked another switch on the flashlight and the stone turned a bright red-purple. "Not as muddy as it looks. Changes in incandescent and fluorescent lights."

"Huh." Daniel nodded, watching the stone. "I thought they'd look...better."

Ichigo grinned. "They're all EGL quality. That's the European version of the Gemological Institute of America. These are the money-makers. Get a little money first, then buy some pretty toy stones."

Daniel nodded. "Toy stones."

The elevator reached the ground floor and the doors opened. Daniel pushed another button and the doors slid shut again.

"How much for all four stones?"

Ichigo nodded. "Twenty-five-two."

Daniel considered the stones for a long moment. "You said I can't take them to a jeweler. What am I supposed to do with them?"

"I'll give you the address of a gentleman who is looking for this quality of stones. Sell to him."

Daniel looked to him suspiciously. "What kind of profit can I expect?"

Ichigo shrugged. "Between $40,000 and $60,000."

Daniel stared at him for a moment, shaking his head and stepping back a foot as he warily eyed Ichigo. "Then why don't you sell them?"

"I've got others to sell. Spread the wealth."

Daniel looked at the stones in the handkerchief for a long moment as the elevator slowed, and then reached into his shirt pocket.

* * *

Aizen sat back in the seat of the van, watching Shoren in the seat behind him in the rear view mirror as she fidgeted with her ear bud that kept falling out. They watched the elevator in the parking structure Daniel Scott had indicated to his caller earlier that morning, but weren't sure if they'd missed their target, who could well be the last member of the Kurosaki jewelling family. From their location two sections away from the elevator near where Scott had parked his cream colored Lexus they had a good view of the elevator.

"You don't need it yet," he told her as she cursed lowly at the earpiece for the third time. "Just when we're on the street."

"How'd I get picked for field work?"

He shrugged, then looked over to Esparo in the seat next to him. "Lucky, I guess."

Esparo looked to him, smoothing his hair back, angling his head at Aizen.

"Stop checking your hair in my glasses, Esparo," Aizen muttered, snapping off the mirrored sunglasses and looking back to the elevator.

Esparo shrugged and followed his gaze. "I thought something more low profile, for field work, you know." He looked to Shoren. "What do you think?"

Shoren gave his new haircut a brief glimpse. "I like it."

Aizen shook his head, eyes locked on the elevator. "Show pony."

The elevator doors opened and Aizen put his glasses back on. "That could be him," he said as Ichigo stepped out of the elevator.

The elevator doors slid shut. Esparo frowned. "There was someone else in the elevator. What about him?"

"Could be anyone," Aizen said, turning the key in the ignition. "Too far away to tell." They watched Ichigo make his way to the next section of parked vehicles. "Shoren, get us a photo of Daniel Scott."

"Will do."

* * *

Ichigo scowled at the rental car. Drab gray sedan, he thought. He hated rental cars. He could never remember what his current one looked like, and in a parking structure they all looked like possibilities. He unlocked the two-door model and got in and started the engine. One sale down for the day. Scott may be a keeper, if he could follow a few directions.

He turned in his seat and backed the car out of the space, and then faced front again and shifted into forward. When he looked up a black van was nearing, and nearing too fast to attempt driving around. He frowned at the man behind the steering wheel, and then at the younger one in the passenger seat. Something clicked wrong in Ichigo's mind, and he abruptly flung the shifter into reverse again.

He stomped on the accelerator and the car screeched into reverse. He hitched an arm around the seat back, turning the steering wheel sharply around a row of cars, sparing only a quick glance at the van in front of the car, inches away from the grill.

"What the hell's this all about?" he bit out, wincing as the car barely missed another parked car as the rental gained speed and snaked through the lower level. He headed for the entrance on the ground level, dodging another SUV pulling from a parking space.

At the entrance the exit rail was down, and the entrance had a car in it. Ichigo swerved into the exit lane, clipping a wheel rim on the curb, and crashed through the rail and out into the side street traffic. His foot moved to the brake as his hand shifted the transmission into neutral, and maneuvered a passable J-hook, into oncoming traffic. He turned the steering wheel to avoid collision, and careened into the proper lane of traffic, cutting off two cars and a taxi.

His hands were tight on the wheel, one foot smashed on the accelerator, as he looked into the rear view lane to see the black van behind him bottled up in traffic just outside the parking structure.

"Who the hell was that?" he mumbled, scowling over the slower moving traffic before him. "Too old to be punks." His cell phone rang, and he took a moment to fish it out of the pocket of his jacket in the passenger seat. ignoring the irate taxi driver in the lane beside him. He frowned at the number displayed on the phone, then clicked it on. "Hello?"

Rukia's voice came over the line. "I want to talk to you."

It took Ichigo a moment to realize who the caller was. "Mrs. Parker?"

"Yes. I've been to three different jewelry stores and no one sells loose stones. What am I supposed to do with these?"

"Uh, we can talk tomorrow. How's that for you?"

"How about Rosa's Bar and Grill?"

Ichigo tried to remember the shops he'd seen across from the bank several days ago. "How's three-thirty for you?"

There was a slight pause. "Okay. I'll be there. I want some answers."

"Sure."