1890 hours- Richmond, Virginia

She pulled off I-95 south, taking a detour into Richmond because her eyes felt dry and sandy and her stomach was growling, reminding her that she hadn't stopped to eat properly all day. The drive to Richmond had been roughly an hour and fifty minutes and during every moment she had felt the constant sense that she was being watched. As she drove through the twists and turns of Richmond she could swear she saw a flash of red in her rearview mirror. It was making her twitchy. She kept searching for a place to pull over, breathing out an amused sigh of relief when she spotted the golden arches of McDonald's. She pulled into the parking lot and considered the stolen car. She'd have to wipe it down and steal another one before leaving Richmond. She was sure someone had reported the car missing by now and she didn't want to risk simply switching license plates and getting caught.

It took fifteen minutes to wipe down the car and then she headed for the fast food restaurant, bag slung over her shoulder. That was when she noticed it again; that flash of red. It took all her self-control and Bourne's voice shouting in her head to prevent her from spinning around to see what the red really was. Instead she stiffened but forced herself to keep walking even as the rumble of a car engine pulled along next to her. "Excuse me,"a voice said and she mimed a jump, as if she'd been so caught up in her thoughts she hadn't heard the vehicle. She turned and found herself confronted with a brown haired man a couple years older than herself, expensive sunglasses perched on top of his red streaked brown hair. "I'm a bit lost and was wondering if you know the way to East Street."

Something about him set alarm bells off in her head but she knew she'd set off alarms for whoever was watching if she avoided the question. "I'm sorry," she apologized, putting on a light southern accent. "But I'm not from around here. I'm from Tampa and I'm just up here doing the tourist thing."

"My bad," the man said, slipping the sunglasses back over his eyes and driving off. Crystal's eyes narrowed as she noticed her didn't stop and go into McDonald's to ask for directions. Her heartbeat began trying to pound its way out of her chest and she headed for the nearest car. She had no choice now, she had to get out. Glancing around to make sure their were no cops nearby, she was just about to ram her elbow through a driver's side window when she spotted the cop car in the parking lot. Let out a string of Russian curses, she turned and marched across the parking lot, heading for the sidewalk on the other side of McDonald's. She'd have to go somewhere else to find a car, and quickly before she was tracked down.

1900 hours- Richmond, Virginia

"Found her," Sideswipe announced triumphantly over their communications link.

"And scared 'er off," Jazz shot back, tracking the runaway female through Richmond's streets. "Nice job moron." Sideswipe growled irritatedly but Jazz was ignoring him, focusing on the girl. She was traversing through streets and alleyways with smooth efficiency, making it difficult to guess her route and give the others a heads up on so they could grab her. Suddenly the girl paused, turned to look directly at the camera, and gave him the finger. He couldn't help the snort that escaped him as he watched her march across the street and snatch up the ancient pay phone, shoving quarters in and dialing. He watched for a moment as she snapped at someone over the phone and then commed Ironhide to go pick her up.

1930 hours- Langley, Virginia

Pamela Landy was just getting ready to leave her office when her secretary paged her. Emily Oron was a twenty-three year old from California with auburn hair and sparkling blue eyes. She was a bit of a firecracker and never failed to keep as much pressure off Pamela as possible. "What is it?" Landy asked, curious as to why her secretary would be paging her when Emily knew she was getting ready to leave.

"Sorry for interrupting you when you're almost ready to leave Pam," Emily said over the com between their offices. "But there's someone on the phone I think you should talk to. It's about Jason Bourne."

"Put it through," Landy ordered and was unsurprised when her phone rang a moment later. She picked up without speaking.

"Landy?" The voice was female, clipped, and demanding. It was also vaguely familiar.

"Crystal, right?" she questioned after a moment of thought. The girl had been Bourne's newest project. Landy had not been privy to details but Bourne had insisted that she could be trusted.

"Yeah. Listen, we don't have time for this. I'm being traced. Bourne is out of country. Call him in four hours. Do you have paper and a pen?" Landy confirmed that she did and the young woman rattled off a number. "Tell him things have gone south and I'm on the radar. Good luck." Then the line went dead. Landy held her phone in her hand for a moment, studying the number Crystal had given her. She vaguely considered the possibility of running the number and then decided against it. Someone was targeting Bourne and the last thing she wanted to do was give the a hint about where the man was hiding.