Author's Note: And you thought Ria's mention of TV pundits was just playing for time...

Gardell hadn't taken the government conspiracy accusations seriously.

Until the moment he learned why he'd been pulled out of the interrogation.

"You're kidding," Gardell said. "Stop the interrogations?!"

Samuel shrugged. "Hey. Don't shoot the messengers."

"But why?! It doesn't make sense!" Gardell snapped. "Whatever Torchwood's planning with these children, whatever's going on, it'll happen tomorrow! This is a ticking time bomb situation, and—"

"They want the interrogation on British soil," Reynolds informed him. "The Bureau's been put in touch with John Frobisher, Permanent Secretary to the Home Office. He's in charge of the investigation regarding the children, and he made it very clear that he wanted our interrogations stopped as soon as possible."

Frobisher.

Hiskaloph had known that name.

"Why?" Gardell demanded. "Did he give a reason?"

"Frobisher believes Summers doesn't know anything that could be useful to us."

Gardell felt himself fuming. "And if that's the case," he snapped, "then why the hell does Frobisher want her on British soil so much in the first place?!"

Samuel shrugged. "It's probably political," he offered. "One of those things where having Summers in their custody would make them look better in the eyes of the media. Summers has been accused of terrorism on British soil before, you know. Although they won't let us see the records explaining what that was all about."

"Media," Gardell repeated.

Hiskaloph had mentioned something about that, too.

Gardell turned to Reynolds. "Check to see if Summers' medical tests have revealed anything. Particularly the administration of some kind of toxin or narcotics, without her knowledge. Someone doesn't want her to talk, and I want to know why."

Reynolds nodded.

And headed out the door.

Gardell turned to Samuel. "You're on TV duty," he said, tossing the remote over. "Hiskaloph kept mentioning… Mitch Philhorn. Find out what that's about."

Samuel caught the remote. "The TV pundit? Why?"

"Because Hiskaloph's too scared to talk," Gardell replied. "But she keeps dropping hints. I think she's waiting to see how I react to certain bits of information. And she'll decide whether or not she can trust me based on that."

"If you can trust her," Samuel replied.

"Hiskaloph's the weak link," said Gardell. "I'm sure of it. She's the one person here with no hidden agendas. Whatever Torchwood's up to, whatever Frobisher's pulling, whatever Summers herself is going through — Hiskaloph's simple. She's here to protect Summers. That's it."

"Simple?" Samuel repeated.

"I'm certain Hiskaloph knows something that'll make Summers talk," Gardell said. "I just have to convince her that I'm on her side. Show I'm trying to help her. If I get through to Hiskaloph, I can get through to Summers."

As soon as Summers recovered from whatever she was slipped this morning.

Samuel shook his head. "I'm warning you, Hiskaloph's not as simple as people think," he said. "She's sly. Tricky. I wouldn't put too much trust in anything she says."

"We'll find out," said Gardell, picking up the phone. "I'm going to speak to Frobisher."

Samuel shrugged.

Then turned on the TV.

As Gardell instructed his secretary to connect him to Mr. Frobisher. And stood, waiting, as the phone rang.

He didn't have to wait long.

Before his call was answered.

"Yes, this is James Gardell, FBI," Gardell said into the phone. "I need to speak to John Frobisher immediately. It's concerning our suspected terrorist, Buffy Summers."

Samuel flipped through channels on the TV, and Gardell turned around, pressing his free hand against his ear, to focus on the other end.

"He's busy?!" Gardell shouted. "Well, I was a busy, too! Until your department decided to play politics with human lives." He felt his grip tighten on the phone. "Does it matter who interrogates Summers? We have until tomorrow to stop whatever is happening to our children. If she knows something, I'm gonna find it out!"

Samuel, from by the TV, suddenly went very still.

"Um… Jim?" he called.

Gardell waved him off. "Listen, Ms. Habiba — I don't care who you are or how long you've been working there," he snapped into the phone. "You tell John Frobisher that I'm the best chance he's got at getting concrete information about what's going on! Neither Summers nor Hiskaloph trust the British government. But they might explain what's going on to a neutral party. If we can get any intelligence at all—"

"Jim!" Samuel shouted.

Gardell turned, sharply. "What?"

Then he stopped.

As he noticed what Samuel had seen on TV.

"To repeat, for those just tuning in," said Mitch Philhorn, in his shouty-pundit voice, "I have Adrian Carver on the phone. And you say… you've seen this kind of thing before?"

"Yeah," said Adrian, over the phone. "Or pretty close. Back in high school, one day, everyone — teachers, students, me — we all just kind of… froze. Just the same way the kids are doing all over the world, right now!"

"Interesting," said Mitch Philhorn. "Very interesting. And did you all speak in unison?"

"Well… no, we didn't," Adrian replied. "Actually, one of the teachers kind of flipped out. Started dancing around reciting foreign-sounding words and trying to summon a demon. It was like some kind of… cult ritual or something. We were all scared out of our minds! But nobody could move a muscle."

"Fascinating — isn't this fascinating, ladies and gentlemen?" Philhorn asked the American viewing public. "A real story of devil worship and terror striking our public schools. Striking our children. But Adrian — you said you survived thanks to one person."

"That's right, Mitch," said Adrian. "Buffy Summers."

Gardell's jaw dropped, as a picture of Summers appeared on the screen.

"I'll never forget it," said Adrian. "The teacher was going crazy, the kids were about to be ritually sacrificed to a satanic demon, and then… Buffy showed up. Put her own life at risk to make sure we were safe. And you know what? She stopped it. When no one else could!"

"Remarkable," said Philhorn, turning back to look right in the camera. "Absolutely remarkable. And the calls just keep pouring in, people. Calls from American men and women all across this country, who've been in situations just as strange — if not stranger — than the one we're in right now. Situations that endangered the lives of the children we love. Situations where the authorities had no idea how to act. And every situation was resolved by the same person. Buffy Summers."

"Oh, we are in deep on this one," Samuel muttered.

Philhorn swiveled around on his chair, to face camera two. "Now, I know what you're saying. 'Mitch,' you're saying, 'you've finally cracked. Someone's playing a sick practical joke on you, and you're reporting it like it's real news!'"

"Probably," said Gardell.

"But I've looked into some of these stories we've been getting," Mitch said. Shuffled some papers around in front of him. "Terry Fisher. Remember her story? Her entire college campus went silent. Nobody could say a word!" He waved the papers at the camera. "And here is the proof." He held up a newspaper in front of the camera. "December 14, 1999. Sunnydale Infected with Mysterious City-Wide Laryngitis." He then pointed at the second story on the page. "And… I don't know if you can read this, but… just below that, 'Mysterious Deaths Baffle Police.' An article in which college students were accosted, in the middle of the night, their hearts torn out of their bodies… and the police were stumped!" He threw the paper down.

"Did that really happen?" said Gardell.

Samuel turned to his computer. "I'll check."

Mitch Philhorn, meanwhile, had jumped to his feet in a fit of righteous passion. "This is real, ladies and gentlemen!" he cried. "There have been incidents like this in LA, in Sunnydale, in Cleveland, all over the country! Mysterious acts of terror that have targeted our schools. Our children!" He threw out his hands. "And the government just… covers it all up!"

Gardell swore beneath his breath.

"And why?" Philhorn shouted. He gave a scoff. "Well, I think that's pretty obvious." He leaned into the camera. "The government doesn't know how to stop it! In fact, no one knows how to stop it!"

"He's gonna cause a riot," Samuel muttered.

Gardell felt his heart sink. "No," he said. "Something much worse than that."

"Except one person," Philhorn told his audience. "The one and only person who has, time and time again, saved our country from these anti-American terrorists. These satanic, devil-worshipping factions who target our children."

"He's giving the people hope," said Gardell. "By creating a hero."

"Buffy Summers," Philhorn declared. "Buffy Anne Summers. The greatest, most patriotic American hero there is."

And it was at that very moment… that John Frobisher finally answered Gardell's call.

The very moment that everything changed.

And anything Frobisher wanted… became impossible to accomplish.