Miami, Florida
July 18, 2003

Brian blinked his eyes open and thought for a moment that he'd gone blind. He tried to lift a hand out towards a wall, intending to hoist himself up and get out of here, wherever here was, only to find that he was tied up. He could feel something supporting his back, which meant he was likely tied to a chair. That was so cliche that it hurt. He closed his eyes, hoping it would help them adjust to the darkness faster, shifting a little in his seat. He'd been tied to one of those cheap plastic chairs that families dragged to barbecues or soccer games, not that Brian's parents would have shown up for either. The plastic seat was hardly comfortable and the ropes wound around him had been pulled tight enough that they would start cutting off circulation in a short amount of time.

He opened his eyes again, squinting them in the vain hope that it would help him make out the figure sitting across from him. The figure was slim with long, blonde hair hanging in a pale curtain across their face. They were also tied to what locked like another plastic folding chair and their body was limp with sleep. The rest of the room appeared to be empty, but it was hard to tell in the darkness. "Hey," Brian hissed, hoping that there was no one in the room aside from he and his fellow captive. The figure didn't so much as stir, breathing still slow and even. "Hey!" he called again, voice louder this time. He flinched as the sound bounced off the walls and echoed. The person across from him jolted with gasp, blonde hair slipping away to reveal wide eyes that only got wider when they saw him. Her breathing came in short, sharp gasps.

"Who...Who are you? W-What are you doing here?" the woman stammered, voice soft and worried. Her eyes flickered towards some point behind him and for a moment Brian's heart skipped a beat. Then she glanced back at him, breathing calming a little. "What's going on?" she asked, voice lower than it had been before.

"I don't know for sure," Brian replied, voice equally soft. He shifted a bit in his seat and winced as the ropes cut into his arms. Settling down again, he smiled at the woman across from him and said,"I'm Brian."

"Tia," she offered with a weak smile and Brian's eyes widened. This was the missing dancer from Dark Magic, which meant that he and Monica being followed was no coincidence. Someone had already figured out that he was looking into Tianna Holloway's kidnapping and hadn't wanted him to figure out what was going on.

"Shit," he muttered and Tia's eyebrows arched up towards her hairline. "You're the dancer from Dark Magic that the owner didn't want to report missing."

"What?" Tia hissed, eyes narrowing.

"I don't know the reason why, but I can guess," he told her in a low voice. "A friend of mine found money being transferred into an overseas account at regular intervals from an unknown benefactor. It could be something legitimate, but, considering the circumstances, there's a good chance that it was drug money."

Tia's face was a strange mixture of frustration, shock, and betrayal as she silently absorbed that information. Brian kept his mouth shut. He wasn't the one dealing with the knowledge that his boss had sold him out, and he doubted she wanted his advice on the matter. After a moment she closed her eyes and blew out a shaking breath, slumping in her chair. "Why is it always a guy?" she mumbled, hair falling over her face again. Brian shifted awkwardly in his chair, certain that he was the last person she should be asking about. He had joined the legions of men who had betrayed women who'd trusted them, just by being an undercover cop.

"I'm sorry?" he offered cautiously when it became obvious that Tia wasn't going to say anything more.

" 'S not your fault," Tia replied, lifting her head and tipping it so that her hair slid away from her face. "At least I don't think it is, unless you being tied up down here with me is part of an elaborate ruse."

"I'm not part of some kind of trap," Brian replied with a grin. "At least not as far as I know." Tia snorted and Brian's grin widened. Then a door behind him swung open, banging against a wall and making both captives jump.

Tia's eyes turned worried as they focused on whoever had stormed in. "Mike," she breathed. "What's going on?"

"Sorry, but I can't talk right now," a male voice said. A slim, dark haired man stepped into view, face pale. Thick, dark smudges under his eyes hinted at the fact that this man hadn't been getting much sleep lately. In one hand, which was trembling slightly, he held a gun.

"Why do you have a gun?" Tia asked, voice wary, but the man ignored her, focus on Brian. The former cop kept his focus on Mike's body language, trying to decided if the other man was going to shoot him or not.

Mike lifted the gun and flicked the safety off, aiming it at Brian's thigh. His hands were still trembling slightly, which meant that if Mike fired the gun he'd either hit the former cop in the thigh or shoot him in the crotch. Neither option was particularly appealing. "What's going on?" Brian asked after a heavy silence, deciding to bite the bullet, metaphorically of course, and find out why Mike was pointing a gun at him.

"I'm going to ask some questions and you are going to answer them," Mike told him. "Otherwise I'm going to shoot you, understand?" Brian wanted to point out that he'd already been shot once, but thought the better of it. Instead he nodded his head once to show Mike that he understood. "Okay, good. What's your name?"

"Brian Earl Spilner," Brian lied without hesitation, meeting Mike's eyes. He'd spent weeks pretending to be Brian Spilner while undercover in LA. A few more days wouldn't hurt. When Mike didn't respond Brian added, "Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"No," the other man grated out. "I think I can figure that out for myself. Thank you." Brian nodded, wisely keeping his mouth shut, and Mike moved on to the next question. "Why were you investigating at Dark Magic?"

"One of the bartenders happened to mention that there was a dancer missing and I got curious," he told Mike, dancing around the truth. "I dragged one of my friends along to help." He shrugged as best he could while tied up. "I didn't think that we were going to get shot at for doing some digging or I wouldn't have bothered." Mike's scowl softened some at Brian's conversational tone and his shaking hands steadied.

For a moment Brian thought that Mike was going to relax and start a conversation with them. Then the other man shook his head and glared at Brian. "You'd better not be lying," he snapped, flipping the safety back on and heading for the door without another word. Tia was watching him go, lips pulled into a concerned looking friend.

"Is he around a lot?" Brian asked softly when the door clicked closed.

"Yeah," came the equally soft reply.

"Is he always like that?"

"No," Tia murmured, chewing on her lower lip for a moment. "At least, he wasn't to start with. He was sweet, all things considered, but he kept getting twitchier and more closed off."

That wasn't good. The last thing Brian wanted to do was deal with someone who was crumbling under pressure, especially considering that his lies might not hold up if someone did research. He could end up shot and buried somewhere before Monica convinced someone to come to the rescue or discovered where he and Tia were being held. That meant Brian had to assume that he was on his own here. It was time to start finding out what Tia knew and coming up with a plan to get them out of here.

"Do they ever untie you?" Brian asked and Tia nodded.

"Mike comes and unties me for bathroom breaks, but that's it," she told him. She shifted a little in her seat and blew out a soft sigh. "A few days ago, I just about had free reign of the place. I mean, I was watched but I could roam around."

"So what changed?"

"I-I'm not sure," she said. "Mike just came back here one day all jumpy and told me to go to the basement. H-He had a gun and I..." Her breath hitched a little. "I didn't know what else to do. I mean, I took a few self-defense classes in Las Vegas but..."

"It's okay," Brian soothed as best as he could. Tia sniffed a little, looking at him with watery eyes. "Everything's going to be alright." Tia let out a wavering laugh, took a deep breath, and blew it out.

"O-Okay," she said, voice only wavering a little. "Alright. We're gonna be okay." She hesitated a moment and then asked, "What's next?"

"I need to know the layout of the building and how many people are normally in it. Any details you can remember that might be important. Are there any recording devices in the house, any way someone might be able to listen to our conversation?"

"No," Tia said, shaking her head rapidly. "No cameras. At least not that I've seen."

"No blinking lights where they shouldn't be or strange fixtures on the ceilings or walls?"

"The only blinking lights belong to a couple of smoke detectors on the second floor."

"Good." Brian blew out a relieved breath. "Okay. Tell me everything."

"There are two floors to the house, aside from the basement, and normally there are at least three people inside. I'm not sure how many there are outside."

FBI Headquarters, Miami, Florida
July 18, 2003

"What do we know?" Bilkins asked as he hurried into the only lit meeting room in the headquarters.

"Not much," Stevenson admitted. "We have a preliminary sketch of the man who grabbed Brian O'Conner, but not much else. Local police headed for the crime scene, but that'll take hours to process, if not a few days. Did you find anything at the club?"

"Plenty," Bilkins replied. "The owner cracked like an egg. DeWade was involved in a drug running business a few years ago for a woman named Nadine Wallis. Verone didn't appreciate someone pushing into his business and decided to threaten the middle man. DeWade folded then too, and a large amount of product went missing. Wallis didn't take the loss well and tried to threaten DeWade by grabbing a few of his girls. One of them died but I'm not sure how the incident resolved."

"So DeWade is working for Wallis again?" Hernandez theorized.

"Yes, but not by choice," Bilkins told the other agents. "Wallis is blackmailing him into it. DeWade tried to strike back, which is why one of his dancers was grabbed."

"Do we have a name for the dancer?" Stevenson asked.

"Tianna Holloway," Monica said from the doorway. "At least that's the name Brian got from her friend."

"Agent Harper will probably confirm that," Bilkins added. "She was going to speak with Holloway's friend, Holly Johnson, and a bouncer named Tony Andretti. The club was trying to get into contact with them so that she could speak with both of them in person. She'll call here as soon as they arrive."

"Good," Stevenson murmured. "Emmanuel, do checks on DeWade and Holloway. See what you can come up with." Hernandez nodded, flipping open a laptop and tapping his fingers while he waited for it to power up. "Bilkins, right?" When he nodded Steveson ordered, "Check up on Nadine Wallis. Dig up anything you can about her and any known associates. See if you can find a location where she might keep O'Conner and Holloway."

Bilkins nodded and headed into the one computer room in the building. Most of the computers had been shut down, but there were a couple that were merely asleep. He roused one and settled in the rolling chair in front of it, logging in with the identification one of the techs had given him when he'd first joined the Miami agency. The database came up quickly, but a search of Nadine Wallis's name took longer and required Bilkins to type in his badge number so the system could make sure he had the clearance required to see the results of the search.

The woman who had tried to cut into Carter Verone's business turned out to have a dual citizenship, Britain and the United States, and had been in a wheelchair since she'd been shot in the spine at age twelve by someone who held a grudge against her father. The CIA and MI5 had long suspected Peter Wallis, Nadine's father, of being involved in the drug trade but they'd never been able to come up with enough evidence to hold up in a court of law. Nadine had likely taken up her father's mantle once he'd been killed, possibly along with her half brother.

David Henderson had been kept a secret from Nadine and her mother, Adrienne, whether to protect the boy from those who wished to harm him, or to protect Peter from bodily harm at the hands of his wife was questionable. Bilkins would have thought that Nadine would have resented her half brother and refused to work with him. Instead reports claimed that the two of them were often together and, while they sometimes argued, they seemed to have a good working relationship. Bilkins opened Henderson's file and printed it out, along with Wallis's before searching for anyone else close to them. Henderson came up blank, not even a girlfriend in the past few years, but Wallis was a different story.

She was engaged to a young man named Michael Young, who was originally from South Carolina. Another search came up with Young's entire history. He had a couple of speeding tickets but nothing serious on his official record, which was interesting considering who he was marrying. He had been investigated in a couple cases, but both times there had been no official charges handed out. Young was likely in the clear, but Bilkins printed off his computer file as well. Better safe than sorry.

Files printed, Bilkins returned to the meeting room where Hernandez was skimming through Tianna Holloway's file. "She's clear. There's a couple parking tickets from Las Vegas, but they've been paid. I can see if we can get her bank statements for investigation, but this information suggests that she was an innocent bystander."

"Has Harper called yet?" Bilkins asked in the silence that followed and Stevenson shook his head. "I printed off what information I found." He tossed the stacks of papers on the table and Stevenson leaned over them, looking at the pictures.

"Hernandez," he said after a moment. "Do you have that sketch?"

"Yeah, here," came the absent reply. Stevenson grabbed the sketch as it slid part of the way across the table. He compared it to the photograph in his hand before placing them down next to each other and turning to Bilkins.

"Take a look at these and tell me what you think."

Bilkins leaned over the table, looking first at the picture of David Henderson and then at the hand drawn sketch the sketch artist had done based on Monica's description. While the match wasn't perfect, it was definitely close. "I think we bring Monica in and ask her if David is the man she saw," Bilkins told Stevenson, who nodded.

"I'll go get her," Stevenson said. "You stick around to see if Harper calls. Hernandez, do some digging into the property owned by Wallis and her associates. I want to know if there's a place nearby where they might stash the kidnap victims." He didn't wait for confirmation before hurrying out of the room.

Stevenson had been gone for less than a minute when the phone on the wall rang. Bilkins hurried over and grabbed it, saying, "Bilkins."

"It's Harper," came the reply. "I've spoken to Miss Johnson, but they can't get into contact with the bouncer. I've told the police to radio into the station and send a couple officers over to his home to check out the situation."

"Okay. Are Mr. DeWade and Miss Johnson in protective custody?"

"I just handed care of them over to the local police. Should I head back to headquarters?"

"Yes," Bilkins confirmed. "As long as the police have a way to contact us."

"They have the right number to contact us," Harper told him. "I'm on my way back."

Bilkins hang up the phone as Stevenson stepped back into the room, Monica trailing him. The shaken look had faded from her face, instead being replaced by determination. "That was Harper," Bilkins reported. "Johnson and DeWade are in protective custody but they're having trouble locating Andretti. Police are heading over to his home to check out the situation. She gave them a number to contact us and she's on her way back."

"Good," Stevenson replied. "Ms. Fuentes, is this the man you saw take Mr. O'Conner?"

Monica looked at the picture for a moment, brow furrowed in concentration, before saying, "Yes."

"Alright. We have a positive identification on the kidnapper," Stevenson said. "Any luck with possible locations?"

"I've got two different apartments in Miami listed," Hernandez said. "And one tucked away in Cutler Bay, not far from here."

"Check out the apartments first," Stevenson decided. "Then, if nothing turns up, the home in Cutler Bay."

"I'll put teams together with the local police," Bilkins spoke up. "Harper can keep an eye on the situation with Andretti."

"I'll look over the reports you printed," Stevenson volunteered. "Maybe there's something we missed."

"What can I help with?" Monica asked as Bilkins headed towards the front desk to make his call.

"I'll put the call on speaker phone. You can help me organize the collaboration," Bilkins told her. "You know the local police department better than I do, and the sooner we get the ball rolling, the sooner we can help O'Conner."