Quickly, Alex pulled his cap low over his face. He strolled down the street at a set pace, trying to seem unhurried. His target was a tall man with sunglasses about twenty feet in front of him. Four days ago, MI6 had debriefed him on A.I.T. What they knew was surprisingly little. However, he did learn that A.I.T had been responsible for many terrorist attacks over the last decade. They had hit France, the U.k., Germany, and Poland. Alex had been given a password to the police's network, which he used to find this man Reed Fletcher. He had been in jail for just over two months for assault, theft, and drug dealing. Apparently, his time had been shortened because he gave out the names of several other people in the drug dealing business who were supposedly involved with the A.I.T. None of the people he named were currently in jail; they had escaped a couple months ago during an "accidental" power outage. MI6 had sent him on a mission to capture Reed Fletcher, hoping he knew where Sabina was being held, or, at least, someone who did.

Fletcher crossed two more blocks before turning into an alley way. Rather than turn with him, Alex went into the coffee shop just to the right of the alley. He was hoping to catch him coming out. When he looked out the back door, however, Fletcher was nowhere to be seen. Thinking he had lost him, Alex hurried out the front door, looking left and right for any sign of the man. When the effort appeared futile, he went down the alley itself, searching for a doorway or another street. He found none. Slumping in defeat, he walked back to the coffee shop. Just as he was about to turn onto the street, he felt the presence of someone behind him. Too late, the fist was already on its way down. It crashed into Alex's head, immediately knocking him unconscious.

~o~o~o~

Mrs. Pleasure sobbed. Alex hadn't come home for supper. In the morning when Alex still wasn't back, Mr. Pleasure got the car out to go look for him. He came back with bad news: Alex had visited his old house to spend the night, but had left early. Mr. Pleasure had just missed him. She broke when they found his letter. It told her not to worry; he was going to bring Sabina back. This was too much for Mrs. Pleasure. After several days of sleepless nights, she bought many bottles of sleeping pills. She took more than was good for her, and she was looking awful. She had bags under her eyes, even though she slept nine hours each night, and her skin had a yellowish pallor to it. She moped around all day, doing nothing.

Mr. Pleasure was worried for her. She needed a doctor, but when he tried to suggest that to her, she yelled at him, saying that no doctor could cure her disease. Mr. Pleasure had taken to going out after eating supper, and drinking to ease the stress and pain. Walking home earlier than usual, he had seen some kid getting mugged by a man. As he was heavily intoxicated, he thought nothing of it. The only reason it was remarkable was the fact that the man, instead of running off with the kid's money, dragged the kid away with him. When he got to his house, Mrs. Pleasure yelled at him, as usual, when he suggested going to the doctor, and he went to sleep. In the morning, last night's memories were washed away by the pain of a hangover. He got up, made breakfast, as Mrs. Pleasure was no longer doing it, and dropped a few coins into the jar labeled, Sabina. He wished for things to be the way they used to, but, he thought, things would never be the same. They would either pull through this as a family and come out changed, or break under the tension and pain. He knew that they were leaning toward the latter, but he every night, he still went out to drink, and Mrs. Pleasure still yelled at him. They were breaking, he knew in one of his sober moments. They were breaking.

~o~o~o~

"Wakey, wakey."

Alex blinked open his eyes, groaning. "Ugh. When did you last brush your teeth?" He asked wrinkling his nose against the smell. His hands were tied behind his back, and his pack was gone.

"You are not in a position to taunt me, pretty boy." The man he had been trailing said, glaring at Alex. He was about six feet, five inches of reeking smell, and hair, with dirty clothes to match. He smiled at Alex, showing his crooked, yellow teeth, and slapping his pistol against his palm.

Alex laughed, "You're not so pretty yourself, old man."

Fletcher punched Alex, making his headache throb. "See, little boy, the way this works is: the person with the gun asks the question, and the person tied up answers them. Now, who are you."

"Your worst nightmare." Alex answered cockily, rewarded with another punch.

The man placed the gun against Alex's temple, "Answer, boy, or you'll regret it. Now, let's try this again. Who are you? Why were you sent?"

Slowly, Alex replied, "I'm Daniel Crocker. I was sent here to find you for some" Alex paused, thinking of a plausible explanation, "drugs."

"Crocker's boy, huh? He hasn't sent you before." The man said thoughtfully. "What kind does he want?"

Alex couldn't believe it. This guy actually knew someone named Crocker! "Heroin." He stated quickly.

"Is that so, Mr. Crocker? I seem to recall that when Crocker first started business with me, he clearly stated that he was not going to do Diamorphine." The man said, his voice laden with a threat.

Alex decided to bluff it out, "Father didn't tell me what the Heroin is for. For all I know, it could be for someone else!"

The man made a skeptical noise, then nodded once, as if agreeing with someone. "You sound a lot like the other guy I caught tailing me. I wonder could you be working together?"

Alex was surprised, "No. Father does not usually let me work with any of his friends. Could you.. could you untie me, please?" It was getting to be rather uncomfortable with all the rope around him.

Eventually, Fletcher complied with a grunt.

Alex sighed with relief, "Now, tell me about the other man."

The man glared at him, then answered gruffly, but slowly warming as he went on, "He was a fat man. Was way too talkative, and stubborn. I'm kinda glad he escaped. Although, he did blow a hole through my wall. Never did figure out how he got explosives in here without me knowing. Anyway, I was tailing him, and I saw him get picked up by some MI6 worker. I assume he was running from them, 'cause he put up a big fight. They nabbed him in the end, though. Knocked him out cold. They took him away in their car. I stopped trailing him then, 'cause he was caught so I couldn't do anything to him. Then I went back here, 'cause I had to sell some crack to Hornton..." He stopped abruptly, realizing he had said to much. "Don't say that last bit to your dad. Okay?"

Alex nodded slowly, thinking about the man in Fletcher's story. He sounded a lot like Smithers. But why would Smithers be here? MI6 had told Alex Smithers had been sent to investigate an A.I.T. base in France! So how could Smithers be here? Unless MI6 was lying to him, which they were notorious for doing so. "You owe me one. Now, about that Heroin?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." The man handed Alex a small bag. "That is one gram, do you need more?" Alex shook his head as the man continued, "How will you be paying me? It will be forty pounds." Alex winced; he had overlooked the payment. When Alex didn't say anything, Fletcher said quickly, "Of course, your dad wanted his money to be safe, so he sent it separately, didn't he?"

Alex nodded, "Actually, now that you mention it. That money was sent with the man who was caught before. Can you help me find him?" Alex needed to find Smithers. He had the only lead on Sabina, and he might be able to tell him something MI6 doesn't want him to know.

Fletcher's eyes widened, "What? Yes! I have to find him, or I won't get my money!"

"Where can I meet you?" Alex asked.

"How about the coffee shop I knocked you out by?" The man replied, grinning.

Alex glared at him, "You wanna have a rematch?"

The man laughed, "No, I think you've been beaten enough already."

Alex glared at him for a moment, then quietly said, "Whatever." This will be an interesting partnership, he thought.

~o~o~o~

Fletcher was waiting for Alex at the coffee shop. It had been four days since Alex and him and partnered with each other. They had found out many things, but this was the best. Fletcher called out excitedly, "I know where he is!"

Hurrying, Alex shushed him; too many unknown ears around here. "Could you shout a little louder?" Alex said, exasperatedly.

"Sorry." Fletcher lowered his voice, making a show of glancing from left to right, "I found him! He's being held in Regent's Park! A buddy of mine said that there is a secret fortress in the lake there. That has to be where he is!"

Alex was excited. He was going to get Smithers! "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Umm. I don't actually own a car." Fletcher said, slowly.

Alex looked at him, "Seriously? You do know that you can take a cab pretty much anywhere, don't you?"

Fletcher looked down, "Yeah, yeah. I knew that." trying to save a little of his dignity.

Alex shook his head, hailing a cab.

~o~o~o~

Alex and Fletcher had scoped out the lake, using the Boathouse Cafe as an excuse to be near it. They had unobtrusively asked questions about how large the lake was, are you allowed to swim in it, etc. The lake was called Boating Lake, it had many ducks, and a section, about 90 acres, was fenced off to protect the many kinds of birds found there. It was a perfect place to start their search.

Alex and Fletcher had examined the fenced off section with the ruse of being birdwatchers. They had decided to come back at night to try to force their way into the area.

Alex quietly placed the smallest marble on the fence, hoping it would make the least amount of noise. Running quietly back to Fletcher, he pressed the red button on the calculator to detonate it. Alex heard a loud pop behind him, followed by many ducks quacking. Alex cursed under his breath. "Come on!" He called to Fletcher. They jumped through the small hole the bomb had made, sprinting away from the crime scene. Alex knew security would be here any minute, so as he ran, he looked for a hiding place. He quickly found one. In a massive tree, there was a hole, large enough for the both of them to fit inside. "Reed," He hissed, "come here!"

Fletcher understood, quietly climbing into the trunk. As soon as Fletcher was safely tucked into it, Alex climbed in also. It was a tight fit. "That was a stupid idea." Fletcher said, his voice muffled by the trunk. Alex agreed. "Why didn't we climb over the fence?"

"That would have been much easier." Alex said, mentally berating himself. How could he have overlooked simply climbing the fence?

~o~o~o~

Fletcher and Alex had gotten out of the trunk after nightfall. Luckily, Alex had the foresight to bring some food. After finishing a very lacking meal of bread. cheese, and crackers, Alex and F;etcher had gone to the lake. Fletcher wanted to free dive, without anything, but Alex argued that he should go. After all, there was supposedly an MI6 fortress down there. In the end, they compromised. Alex would dive first, with the gear Smithers had given him, and Fletcher would wait on the shore for thirty minutes. If Alex hasn't come up by then, Fletcher would free dive to find him.

Alex quickly dove in, wanting to get this over with. Using his night vision, the looming fortress quickly became visible. It looked like a sunken apartment. Alex found an entrance with twenty-two minutes left on the clock. Slowly, he opened the hatch. Water poured in a small six- by-four room, bringing Alex with it. As soon as Alex closed the door, water began spilling out of the room. Soon, Alex could breath without the mouthpiece.

Alex pushed open a door on the opposite side of the one he had come into, halting when a blast of cool air and bright light hit him. When his eyes adjusted, Alex saw a pristine white hallway, with many doors on each side. Cautiously, Alex opened each of the doors. They looked like hospital rooms, but oddly, there were no nurses, In fact, there were no people of any kind.

As Alex neared the end of the hallway, he came across a locked door. He tried in vain to open the door. With and idea, Alex opened the door to the left of the locked one. He looked around for a vent. Unfortunately, there was only a small one, not big enough for a foot to fit through, let alone a whole person. Suddenly, Alex remembered the marbles. He quickly grabbed one out of his back, pacing it on the wall. Stepping into the adjoining room, he pressed the blue button on the calculator. With a loud boom, the bomb blew a large hole in the wall. Quickly, Alex stepped into the room.

Alex gasped as he saw an injured man on the floor, covered in debris and blood. The man had many cuts and bruises all along his back. With a bad feeling, he rolled the man over. He gasped, "Smithers!"