Sophie Devereaux cuddled her mug of hot chai close to her chest and tried not to yawn. Nine o'clock wasn't impossibly early, especially once she learned Hardison had been awake and researching since four. No, the problem was that she'd picked last night to go out with a couple of girlfriends. They hadn't done anything extreme, but an all night diner and all the coffee and ice cream they could put away wasn't conducive to her being at her best. At least we got Mary sorted out, she thought – remembering how the young artist had finally managed to smile when they parted company around two in the morning.

Luckily, none of the others seemed to be in much better shape than she was. Sophie successfully hid a grin when she caught sight of Nate. He was listening to Hardison's briefing, and the wheels were already turning in his brain.

They were just turning a lot more slowly than usual.

"It's too big a coincidence," he said, once Hardison had stopped talking. "New York, I'd believe. Washington DC. The only thing of any potential interest to them in Boston is us." He glanced at Eliot. "Specifically, Eliot."

Sophie knew they were all thinking about the "enhancements" Eliot's twin brother had recently confessed to giving him. Their hitter wasn't immortal by any stretch of the imagination, but the late Lindsey McDonald, Attorney at Law, had arranged for Eliot to be given magical enhancements to his strength and stamina that definitely took him to the outer limits of what could be classified as human.

The subject of their silent speculation was quiet for a long moment. Finally Eliot said, "Any interest they had in me should have died with Lindsey. I did some favors for them over the years – sure – but if I was really that valuable an asset they would have come knocking before this."

"You do have a personal connection though." Sophie felt obligated to point it out, even though she knew probably better than any of them how sore a subject his twin was for Eliot.

"Had, Sophie." Eliot shook his head, scowling. "Had. Lindsey's been dead a long time."

Before she could argue the point, Hardison stepped into the conversation. "We've already seen that zombie clause in action, man," he said. "Standard perpetuity or whatever? Couldn't they have called in his number or something?"

To Sophie's amazement, Eliot seemed to be considering Hardison's point. She exhaled softly, realizing that she'd preemptively braced for him to start arguing with the hacker.

Finally, Eliot shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. Perpetuity means forever, but I can't see Wolfram & Hart wanting anything to do with Lindsey after he helped the Powers That Be."

A potentially disturbing possibility occurred to Sophie. "Eliot, what if that wasn't your brother who helped Nate get released?" She didn't want to consider it because it pushed the big picture farther into the realm of gods and supernatural phenomena than she was comfortable with.

"No," Eliot said emphatically. "Lindsey was my twin. I know him better than anyone or anything on the planet, and that was him."

Sophie backed off immediately, recognizing the stubborn set to Eliot's jaw. There would be no changing his mind without some sort of proof.

"Setting aside the question of what's brought them here," Nate said, drawing their attention, "Eliot, what can we expect? More vampires?"

Hardison groaned, and Parker scowled. "No question," Eliot said. "Vampires, demons – things you've probably never heard of that we have no chance of taking on and surviving."

Sophie knew she wasn't the only one disheartened by Eliot's assessment. True to form, however, Parker was the only one who spoke up. "We did all right against those vampires last time."

"You got lucky," Eliot said, arms folded across his chest. "The vamps we faced were young, probably all strung out to one degree or another, and we had a Slayer and a really old vampire backing us up."

"So we call Faith," Hardison said. "Our very own vampire Slayer. Problem solved."

Nate shook his head immediately. "Calling Faith in is about the least neutral act we can make with these people. I don't want to risk some sort of supernatural armageddon without cause."

"You owe her some kind of warning, at least," Sophie said, catching his attention. "This could be as much about her as it is Eliot."

Before Nate could say anything, Eliot shook his head. "If we tell her anything at all, she'll come. No question. Nate's right. Neutral is the smart play until we know more."

Nate was unnaturally quiet; his gaze had dropped to a spot on the table. Sophie realized he was struggling to shove back his feelings about Eliot being so sure what Faith would do. Nate had proven in the past to be very territorial on the subject of his daughter, and now absolutely wasn't the time for him to indulge that. "We're not going to be able to keep it from her forever," he said finally, raising his head and looking at each of them in turn. "Right now, we don't know enough about what they're doing here."

Hardison was clearly unhappy about not getting to hide behind a superhero, but Sophie was relieved to see him rally and look for alternatives. "The press conference," he said. "Should be large enough for us to pull a 'hide in plain sight'."

She liked the idea, and jumped in immediately to support the hacker. "We can weigh what they're saying against what they're not saying."

Nate's gaze ticked to Eliot, who shrugged. "In the open, broad daylight – it's not the greatest plan in the world, but it's probably the safest we're going to find on such short notice."

"What is the greatest plan?" Hardison asked.

Eliot looked down at him. "Getting as far away from this city – and them – as possible."

They showed up at the office building at different times on the day of the press conference, and made sure to space themselves at irregular distances throughout the waiting crowd. Anything so that witnesses couldn't testify later that they were connected to each other. They had the coms, but by now the team knew how to communicate through them without actually being overheard. When necessary, they'd also worked out ways to communicate with them while being overheard. Lines of communication were as secure as ever, but for many of the team that was cold comfort as they prepared for their first face-to-face encounter with Wolfram and Hart.

There would be no hiding Eliot, especially once Hardison confirmed that Lindsey would be the principle speaker, so they had agreed not to try. Eliot was making an attempt to blend in, but his primary assignment was to act as camouflage for the rest of the team. Nate was hoping that Eliot's obvious presence might somehow make the rest of them less so.

He was bait. Nate hated admitting it to himself, but it was the truth. Today, he, Hardison, Parker and Sophie were ordinary, concerned citizens attending a press conference that would likely decide the economic fate of this part of Boston.

Economic interest had attendance at standing room only levels. According to Hardison's research, Lindsey had been busy making a lot of promises – the kind of promises a recession-weary population would be eager for him to make good on.

Hardison and Parker took positions along the walls on opposite sides of the room. Sophie sat in the middle, Nate near the back, and Eliot grabbed the most visible seat he could find. His position served the dual purpose of putting him in Lindsey's line of sight, and allowing the rest of the time to watch over him.

The point is to tempt, not surrender, Nate reminded himself. If this really was about Wolfram & Hart taking a chance to grab Eliot, they were giving them what looked like the perfect opportunity.

Even at a distance, Nate could tell that Eliot was uncomfortable with the plan. It wasn't in his nature to depend on other people to this degree. In the end, however, even he had agreed that it was a solid shot at getting Lindsey to tip his hand. And if they do make a try for him, they're going to have to take on all of us, Nate thought, shifting nervously in his seat.

From the angle he was at, Nate could see the immediate reaction of each twin to the other when Lindsey walked into the room and up to the microphones. The look on Eliot's face was pure hatred – undiluted and undisguised.

Lindsey, on the other hand, almost smiled. Almost. Nate thought he even saw a flash of amusement in the twice-dead lawyer's expression.

Any hint of that was gone once Lindsey took his place at the podium; his entourage arranging themselves in chairs set up behind him. Eliot slumped down a little further in his chair, fists clenched in his lap.

"Looking good,"Nate murmured into the com, trying vainly to reassure his hitter.

"Give it time," Eliot growled.

In front of them, Lindsey cleared his throat, checked the microphone, and smiled at the crowd. "I'd like to thank you all for coming here today," he began. "I know this must have been an enormous shock to you, when you all found out. And why wouldn't it be? In the last few years, Wolfram and Hart has acquired an…unfortunate reputation. Mistakes were made. Errors in judgment, misplaced loyalties, broken promises. Our Los Angeles branch was a cancer – no good to anyone – a blot on our history that we have done our best to erase with its shutdown." He paused, looking sorrowful. "Wwe know that that is not enough. Cutting out the cancer is only the first step to true healing. To that end, we hope to make a new future here in Boston. A new beginning, for us and for this historic city…"

Nate tuned out about that point, ignoring the words and paying attention to the man speaking them. He'd met Lindsey McDonald once, a strange day several months earlier that had begun with him being unexpectedly released from prison, and ended with Lindsey and Eliot's apparent reconciliation – all mere seconds before Lindsey had died again.

One day wasn't really enough to get a read on someone, especially not someone so dedicated to hiding their true nature and motivations.

Even a lie can give you information if you watch how the person lies. Nate was forced to admit that Lindsey McDonald was a superb orator – a fact that was almost funny when you contrasted it with Eliot's bluntness. Lindsey was saying all the right things, with the right tones. Nate finally lowered his voice and murmured into the com. "Sophie? What do you make of this?"

"Classic wow-the-crowd style," Sophie replied. "Normally for this sort of thing you'd want to portray yourself as down to earth, one of the people, someone who understands them. But he's going another route. He's putting himself above them, making himself out to be the grand prophet, the one who's going to change everything. Grand plans attract ordinary people – they want to be a part of it, and they'll overlook a lot for the purpose of doing so. He's a pro, Nate."

"Are you really surprised?" Eliot growled from his seat. "He's Lindsey. He worked his way up from the mail room. He was good enough to get called in by the enemy, and then called in by the bosses he screwed over. When he talks, people listen."

"How're you doing, Eliot?" Nate asked. He trusted Eliot, but the tone of his hitter's voice was getting dangerous.

Eliot sighed before replying. "I'll live," which Nate knew by now was his personal code for 'I'll deal, but I won't like it.' "Long as I don't actually have to talk to him, I'll live. Long as I can just sit here and not have to look…"

Nate couldn't hear the rest of whatever Eliot was saying – a piercing burst of static shot through the room, echoing on his com. At first glance it appeared to be a freak accident – even though Sophie and Eliot had both jumped in their seats and clapped their hands over their ears, the entire audience was looking around the room in confusion and muttering.

At the head of the room, Lindsey was frowning – fiddling with the microphone while trying to make himself heard over the rising noise from the crowd.

This isn't right. In all the time Nate had worked with Hardison, only one thing had ever been able to actively interfere with the coms – a simultaneous broadcast on the same frequency. And the chances of another team coincidentally being on the premises right now were so small it was laughable.

That left them with one terrifying alternative: someone knew the frequency. Someone was causing the static. Someone was cutting them off.

Putting the pieces together cost Nate a few precious seconds. When he finally rallied, he looked to Eliot first. The hitter was safe – the static had startled him, but he'd quickly recovered, and was now searching the room for a possible source. Sophie was in a similar condition.

Parker and Hardison were nowhere in sight.