With a great shove, George fell out of the car and rolled onto the side walk outside of his office building. He dusted himself off and walked into the building. The long climb up allowed him some thinking time.

"I would have to go about this as simply and smoothly as possible. I had to try and get this done without stepping on too many toes, or any if possible. So, I was left with sneaking around and getting the job done quietly."

George took the camera out of his pocket and threw his over coat onto a hook. Walking into the bathroom, George took some rubbing alcohol, needle and thread. He pulled off his pants and dumped part of the rubbing alcohol bottle onto the wound on his thigh. A loud groan escaped his throat and continued until the pain subsided. Quickly, George stitched up the wound and repeated the process for the cuts on his chest.

After he fixed himself up, George took the film out of the camera and started to work on it in his dark room. Dipping and dunking the photos in each chemical bath, then hanging them up to dry. As the pictures started to become visible, he threw out the ones that were too blurry to read and tried to read those that came out clear enough.

Once all the pictures were developed, George had a hefty number of documents that were legible enough to read. Most were garbage though.

"Well, all that work was for nothing. I had done a job and a half with those pictures and all I got were unpaid taxes, petty crimes, and other worthless things. I was about to pack up and leave when I noticed one that might have been some use to me."

George stopped and took the last picture off of the clothes pins that were holding it. He flicked the picture and smiled.

"Hot damn! I felt like I had struck a gold mine. It was an invoice for an off shore import company, most likely they wouldn't be doing very much legal business. I decided to check them out and hope that there would be some leads I could find there."

George looked at his watch, three-thirty-six. He'd have to wait until night to do anything. The couch seemed a reasonable place to be right about then. As soon as his head hit the pillow, George fell into a deep slumber.

-----

Darkness enveloped the small office and the sound of his watch alarm was blaring in his ear, worsening his already pounding headache. George sat up quickly, wiping the sleep from his eyes and looking at his watch. It was Nine O'clock sharp.

Night had fallen and George had to be going. He grabbed his trench coat as he left.

The taxi dropped him off a few blocks away from the docks because George didn't want to be spotted. There were a few guys still unloading boxes off of a truck and onto a small dingy. George took out his pistol and crouched behind some crates when he came as close as he was willing to risk.

The men were talking loudly and laughing about some game they had seen the night before, but George wasn't paying much attention to them. He instead was looking at the boxes; they had no markings on them, not a single thing from where they were from or where they were going. George walked among the crates some more, trying to get a bit closer.

The workers didn't notice him as he approached. Using the boxes as cover, George snuck into the warehouse they were loading the boxes into. Inside, the room was full of the boxes that looked just like the ones they were loading in. With no one around, George took a crowbar and opened one of the boxes.

Styrofoam packing peanuts fell out of the opened box. George rummaged around, feeling for what it was they were transporting, but he felt nothing. Confused, George opened another box and again found nothing.

"It was strange to say the least. I can't say I didn't feel like I was walking into another trap, but for some reason I thought there was more to it this time. I needed answers and in order to do that I needed to search around for some records of what was shipped. The only place to find that was the head-honcho's office."

George quietly put the crowbar down and put the lids back on the boxes. Working his way around the room, he came to an office that looked bigger and more important than the others. The door creaked open as George walked in, gun ready in his hand. There was a small computer on the desk and enough furnishings to make it seem like a legit office from the outside, but nothing else in the office.

Quickly, George walked over the desk and began rummaging around through the drawers. Nothing.

He hit the power button on the computer tower and waited. The screen glowed for a second, but when it booted up there were only two folders on the desk top. One, set up by the company that made the computer and another that was untitled. George clicked the folder and was astonished at what popped up. Videos, videos of what looked like test footage.

"This might have been the break-through I had been looking for."

George opened the first video labeled "96305". The video loaded up and showed a man with graying hair wearing a lab gown. He adjusted his glasses and began talking. No sound came.

He pressed the pause button on the video and searched around for speakers. Finding nothing, George decided he would have to make do with the video. The man, George assumed he was some sort of scientist, walked with the camera to a metal table. On it was a panting Doberman; the dog looked to be wounded along its hindquarters. Blood leaked onto the table. The scientist pointed to the gash and ran his hand along the gash just above the wound. He explained something in more detail before picking up

a needle and injecting it into the dog. Almost immediately, the wound cinched itself closed and healed, even growing new hair where the old hair was. The scientist put down the needle, talked some more and shut the camera off. The video stopped.

Amazed by this new discovery, George clicked open the next video as soon as the other ended. The same scientist stood in the same position once more explaining something. He moved over to the table again and this time there was a naked woman on the table. She had a large wound going from stomach to her ribs, just below her breast. She was in obvious pain, screaming. The scientist again ran his hand along the wound and talked before injecting her with a needle of a different color. At first nothing happened, but soon after she violently convulsed, twitching shivering. Her skin began to change color, growing paler each passing second until she was almost a pure milky white. Then suddenly she stopped moving. Sometime during the whole procedure George missed that the wound closed and healed over, not even leaving a scar. She gradually regained her original color and began breathing normally.

Before the video ended, words noting the change in her skin flashed on the screen. The video ended and George looked for more videos, but couldn't find any.

"Those videos were the type of info I needed. There had to be some way for me to copy them, some way for me to use them to get that dame's heirloom back."

He sighed when he remembered that there was nothing in this office. He looked to the door to make sure no one was near and left to go to another office.

The office wasn't far away, but it looked much like the other one, just a bit smaller. George moaned in frustration and continued his search until he found one "legitimate" office that was slightly more furnished. He took a memory stick from one of the drawers and went back to the other office, skirting around various boxes to avoid some workers.

Once inside, George went right to work on the computer, shoving in the memory stick and copying the files. Because of the size of the videos, it was going to take a few minutes. George waited while checking out the door for more people. No one was coming and the files were at fifty percent. That was when he heard him.

A man's voice, gruff and ridden with the sounds of a chain smoker was approaching the office. He sounded like he meant to come in and lounge around. George's heart skipped a beat. He needed a place to hide and pray that he didn't see the computer on.

The man stretched his neck and rubbed his hairy chin. He felt his chest for the bulge of the pack of cigarettes. Pulling it out, he stopped; putting one in his mouth before continuing. It was his job to pack up the offices and put everything in boxes. He lit the cigarette as he walked into the office and walked over to the computer.

George's heart hammered in his chest, threatening to jump out. He was surprised the man hadn't heard it. Two legs stood right in front of his hiding spot.

"What the hell?" He asked, bobbing his cigarette as he spoke. From underneath the desk as foot smashed into his shin. The force knocked him onto his knees. George slammed his fist into the man's face.

"You know, that stuff will kill you," George said taking the cigarette and throwing it on the ground before punching him one last time. The screen flashed to show that the copying was done. George removed the memory stick, deleted the files and was about to leave.

"Well, seems you were a bit ahead of us on this." Her blond hair bounced as she walked up to George. He was staring into her beautiful blue eyes that reminded him of two deep blue oceans. Equally as beautiful.

Rita walked around to the computer and started clicking. "So what did you find?"

"Not all that much, but it shouldn't be too hard for your agency to recover whatever was on that computer." George walked away with a wave.

She had rendered the guards unconscious making his escape easy.

"I can't say I didn't feel good about leaving like that. I liked being the one with all the information for once, felt like I actually had power for once. Power, that was a funny thing I never felt before. Regardless, it was these videos that were going to lead me to the end of this case. All I had to do was find some clue as to where that lab was."