Elaine flew to Washington. She had a meeting to attend, and she didn't want to be late. She got off the plane and a driver was there to give her a ride. She made small talk with him, but he wasn't the talking type. He drove right past his turn.

"You were supposed to turn left," she told him.

He hit the gas. She knew she was in trouble.

Her actual driver was stuck with a flat tire. Someone had slashed his tires. He called it in, but by the time the Agency found out, Elaine had already been picked up.

Griffin got the call and he used the surveillance cameras to find the car that picked up Elaine. He found the car using satellite images.

Agents Medina and Kuo sought out the car. They had just returned from a mission in Italy, and should have had the day off, but the Agency needed every man and every women now. Potovsky must be found.

Medina drove, chugging a Monster as he went. Kuo saw the car up ahead. He undid his seatbelt and rolled down the window. When Medina pulled up, he shot the driver and jumped out of the Medina's car and into the town car. The town car swerved out of control. Kuo managed to pull the car into park.

Elaine had bumped her head, but other than that, she was fine.

Agent Medina pulled over. "You can come with us Ma'am."

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Well, we killed your kidnapper, so I would trust us if I were you."

She sighed and got into the car.

Of course, she was late.

"Elaine," the deputy director started, "you're late."

"Sorry, my ass got kidnapped on the way here. Way to send me a driver."

"Oh. I was hoping you got our message."

She rolled her eyes. "What do you want with me?"

"I understand Potovsky's men are in LA."

"Well, they ransacked a former agent's apartment, so I would guess they're in LA. What are you going to do about it? Blow air."

"My haven't you become contemptuous."

"Sorry if I'm a little fed up. We bust our balls putting our lives in dangers to catch criminals and when we catch them, we expect them not to escape to reek havoc in our lives."

"I take it she's in a secure location."

"She is."

"Where is she?"

"I can't tell you."

"What! Why the hell not?"

"Well whomever kidnapped me, probably assumed I knew where she was. The more people I tell, the more people will be targets. It's safer if you don't know."

"So you didn't register her in a safe house?"

"I did not." Brenda wasn't in a CIA safe house, well not an official one. Former operatives made their own safe houses in case they needed to hide. The agency ones were nice, but if there was a mole or a security breach, they were not going to protect you from anything.

"You're playing with fire."

"I don't have much of a choice. Do I?"

"I guess you don't."

"Why did you really call me out here?"

"You haven't heard from Jack have you?" Jack was a rogue operative who fled in the early 2000s. Allegedly, he killed two FBI agents in a sting gone terribly wrong. Many in the CIA believed he was set up, and rumor had it, agents and former agents would help him hide from the government.

"You're looking for Jack now? Is he really that important?"

"I know he and Brenda used to be close. I thought he might have stopped by to say a word."

"Well I haven't heard from him since he took off, and if he reached out to Brenda, I sure as hell don't know about it." Elaine didn't even know what Jack looked like anymore. The last time she saw him, he was a tall, handsome, brown-haired man with brown eyes that had the most delicate golden flecks. There was nothing delicate about his personality, however. He told you how it was, pure and simple, no candy coating or nothing. He was the field agent who mentored Brenda when she was a rookie. She was in trouble now. Would he come back?

Los Angeles

Major Crimes

Tao found the car used in the robbery. It had been taken out to the middle of nowhere and torched. SID was looking for any remaining clues, but it was doubtful.

Everyone was frustrated. Just when they had a lead, it was all gone.

Agent Howard had a non-eventful day at work. He hoped for a word from his wife, but there was nothing. He came home and was surprised to hear a man already there. He drew his gun to find a man, sitting in front of Brenda's boxes, reading a file.

"I wouldn't shoot if I were you," the man said, not even bothering to turn around. "It's a waste of lead, and it won't bring your wife back any faster."

"Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of your wife's. I hear she messed with the wrong psychopath."

"What do you want?"

"I want to help her end this mess. I don't like it when old skeletons come out to stir the pot. I always bury my dead. Potovsky needs to get dead."

"Who?"

"Don't you know anything? He's the nutcase who escaped from a Russian jail who's come here to kill your wife and her former team, and I'll be damned if he gets to do it. Now go make yourself useful and get me some whiskey."

"I don't have any whiskey."

"What!"

"I'm an alcoholic, not that it's any of your business."

"Who isn't in this day and age? Well, do you have anything?"

"I'm sure Brenda's wine is in the kitchen."

"Then pour me a glass. I'm trying to figure out how to find this jerk." Jack went through the files.

Fritz came back with a glass of wine. "How did you get in here anyway?"

Fort Worth, Texas

The gunmen had marked Fort Worth on their map, so the group stopped. What would they get here? The other papers looked like flight plans.

"Maybe they were going to get a plane here?" suggested Marshall.

"Or a pilot," said Taylor.

"Let's check it out," Caitlin said. They split in pairs. One of them went to check out anywhere to buy or charter a plane and the other went to look for pilots. Apparently, there was a dive bar where the pilots would hang out. Tonight, they would be making an appearance.

They got to the bar. Caitlin went for a low cut shirt to show some skin. She learned that by acting a little easy, men would tell her everything. Taylor went with the hip-hugger jeans and cowgirl hat. She pulled off the dumb blonde routine, quite well. Marshall, donned his leather jacket. He got a pack of cigarettes and tried to make himself look like a regular. Damien went with the retired jock look. He chatted about football, an easy way to make friends in Texas.

Apparently, there was this one company that was known for accepting suspicious charters. As long as you paid cash, they would fly you where you wanted to go, no questions. It was good money, but a lot of risk. You could go down for whatever was on that plane. They sought the best pilots, especially ones with debt. They liked them hungry, or desperate, depending on how you look at it.

The next morning, they would be paying this agency a visit, but for now, just play it cool. They drank and chatted with the locals. A couple of hours later, a group of men came in. They wore dark, expensive looking clothes and kept to themselves.

Taylor casually walked by. She knew how to play her cards. All she had to do was go home with one of these fools, and she would have her way into the company.