Thanks for the review. Here you go.

Chapter 4

"Anything new?" Ethan greeted the others, climbing out of the rain into the back of the car.

Luther, sitting opposite of him on the other bench of the small transporter, shook his head. "No. There's only one camera in the hallway of that house, and I've been through the footage. They went in the flat, then Benji left and came back a few minutes later, all within twenty minutes before the message, and that's all that has happened in that staircase for weeks. I still have no response from either of them, but the message definitely came from Skye's phone which was in that flat and hasn't moved since."

"Did you trace Benji's phone?" Brandt asked from the driver's seat. The analyst's level of information most likely was about his own, Ethan thought.

"I've tried," Luther replied with a grimace. "But not much luck there. I've put a constant trace on it, but most of the time it has been off the grid, either turned off or maybe somewhere deep underground. The few pings I got were so short that I could only narrow its position down to somewhere around the city and the last ping is about two hours old by now anyway."

Meanwhile, Ethan checked the contents of the small bag of equipment Brandt had brought from an Oslo safe house thanks to his diplomatic passport. It had originally contained a set of radio equipment, guns, holsters and plenty of ammunition, in addition to which Luther, who had arrived an hour before the other two agents, had not only organized their ride, but also a key to the flat and genuine looking Met-detective-IDs, just in case. As the others had already armed themselves, the bag was nearly empty when Ethan helped himself to the remaining pieces, silently listening.

"I don't like this," Brandt muttered, impatiently drumming his fingers on the wheel. Not only was he finally stuck in London's famous traffic, now he was also held up because in front of him the road was blocked by ambulance and police cars surrounding a crane that was heaving a large red van out of the river.

"Shit," Luther cursed quietly when he saw the chaos on the street, peeking through the gap between the front seats. "This could take a while. Probably another hour or two."

"Time we don't have," Brandt decided, and, following the example of a few other drivers, took a sharp U-turn, accompanied by loud honking around them. The main streets around the blocked crossroad were as busy, as was to be expected under the circumstances, so as soon as possible he turned into the maze of smaller side streets. Through that, they were unexpectedly quick and reached flat within a few minutes.

All the while Luther had had an eye on the camera in the hallway, which he had linked to his phone. As they left the van, he checked it a last time. "No change," he announced and pocketed his phone.

The house that held the IMF apartment was located in the middle of the street. Six stories tall, it was a little smaller than the surrounding structures and also not quite as broad as the other buildings. Balconies looming over the street were indicating that there were flats on every level, the one in question was taking up the whole first floor.

Guns at the ready, the agents entered the front door and rapidly proceeded to the first floor. Brandt and Luther took positions on either side of the door, while Ethan opened it. Quickly they moved in, securing in all possible directions, but the room was empty. While Brandt moved towards the kitchen, Luther headed for the outer one of the bedrooms, leaving the middle room for Ethan who had come in last and therefore was still nearest to the door, when someone suddenly came out of exactly that room.

"Whoa!" the man exclaimed and instinctively raised his hands at the sight of three guns pointed at him. However Luther already lowered his weapon with a sigh of relief, and the others followed suit, stepping back to give him the space to get out of the bedroom. "Benji, are you alright?"

"Yeah. Why shouldn't I?" the blond man replied with an ironic laugh, carefully bringing his arms into a more comfortable position as he stepped into the living room. Meanwhile, Brandt had a look into the other rooms, just to be sure, but they were as empty as the large room had been when they had first come in, which made him think of something else. "Where is Agent Holt?"

The other man shrugged. "Don't know, went out a while ago, hasn't come back yet," he said, while Ethan let his look wander around the room. The flat looked perfectly normal, except for the book maybe that was lying on the floor next to one of the low tables, but that was nothing out of the ordinary enough to make something of it. However, somehow his eyes were drawn back to the blond man in the middle. He couldn't quite tell what, but something was wrong, very wrong. Without warning he raised his gun, asking in an icy voice: "Who are you?"

"Ethan, what are you doing?" Luther asked with a little surprise, not sure what to do, while the accused rather reflexively took a step back, in the process hitting his head on a low hanging lamp.

"I'm pretty sure I'm me," he stammered, trying to regain his balance.

"Nice try," Ethan replied dryly with a voice like liquid nitrogen. Not moving a muscle he stood there, his eyes fixed coldly on his target, his aim locked in, yet at the same time, he seemed to be completely relaxed. The same self-assuredness that he showed in his stance underlying his voice, he said: "You are not Benjamin Dunn."

"What are you talking about?" the other man asked, taking another step back, now standing between Luther and Brandt who still had their guns drawn, but not raised, looking at them for help.

"Ethan?" Brandt now asked for an explanation. Still not moving one inch from his position Ethan was about to reply when a reflection of light caught his eye and he pulled the trigger.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Benji was cold, wet and generally miserable as he turned into the street where the flat was located. He had been lucky that the van's windshield had been shattered when it had crashed onto the pier so that it had been pushed inwards when the car had impacted on the water and he had managed to get out relatively easily. But as he had not wanted to be seen by anyone, he hadn't managed to find a spot to get out of the water until after Westminster, so he had not only had to walk around the parliament but also the whole way back up Victoria Embankment. However, he had turned away from the river as soon as he saw the crane still at work. He didn't want to risk being recognized by anyone, not the way his luck was working today.

In the meantime, the slight drizzle of the morning had turned into a full-grown rain, so at least nobody would take further notice of a dripping wet man walking through the city. Not that there were a lot of people who would have noticed him at all. Once it had started raining the streets had been surprisingly empty, and so he had had a lot of time to think.

That way he had also remembered where he had seen the black Mercedes before. It had been parked right across the street from the flat when they had arrived. He had noticed it back then because of the peculiar scratch. Cold shivers ran down his back when he thought about the possibility that they had been watched all along, and not just because of the water.

Now that he was walking back, the Mercedes, of course, was not there anymore. In fact, the whole street was empty except for a dark blue van that had taken the place of the black car. It was a minibus, a family-car kind of vehicle, and rented by the looks of it.

Benji didn't give it a second look as he hurried across the street into the dry hallway of the house. All he cared about right now, was a warm shower, a dry set of clothes and a hot cup of tea, that might save him from the cold he surely had caught in the last two hours, and hopefully an explanation for what had happened. Maybe Skye would have an idea. His mind firmly set on that, he reached the top of the stairs, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot, coming from the direction of his flat.

Triggered by this sound, his mind switched to autopilot. Without thinking he kicked in the door, just in time to have a dead body hit the ground right at his feet with a sickening thud.

Benji froze. He had seen quite a few dead bodies in his time with the IMF and even more since he had become a field agent. Some of them had been pretty gruesome, actually enough so that the view of a corpse in itself was not so much disturbing to him anymore. However it was not really surprising that he was somewhat shocked at the sight of his own face staring up at him from the floor with cold, dead eyes, a dark reddish circle forming around a rip in his shirt, indicating a clean shot in the chest, and the man he would most likely have called his best friend standing over the body with literally a smoking gun.

"What the hell...?" he started, at least an octave about his usual pitch, but he didn't manage to finish the question when his voice broke into pieces. He was only peripherally aware of the three guns that were now pointed at him, and actually, he didn't care. He simply couldn't stop staring at the face that was a perfect recreation of his own, so much it seemed even more perfect than the original, with the one small flaw that it was dead.

Benji was so overwhelmed by the situation that it didn't even occur to him to raise his hands or to move in any other way. The sight seemed to glue him to the spot, even his thoughts felt as if his brain was suddenly made of chewing gum.

Meanwhile, Ethan had been closely looking over the dripping figure that had burst so suddenly into the room, but soon enough he was sure. "He's Benji," he declared, and put away his gun, Brandt and Luther following his example, at least one of them with a sigh of relief.

This time there was no other possibility. Not only had he found the small, but distinct red line crossing the back of the technician's left hand, the remainder of his latest injury and a reminder of a previous mission, also Ethan was sure that no mask would have ever been able to withstand as much water as his hair and clothes seemed to have absorbed.

"Oh, good," was all that Benji himself could say to that, not able to take his eyes off the impostor. Only when Luther finally ripped the mask off the dead man's face did he slowly get out of his shock.

"Whatever happened to you?" Brandt asked, handing a towel to the blond man, who was still understandably shocked, but at least recovering enough to tell them of his adventures of the day.

Benji reported every detail he thought important, from the time he had first spotted his pursuers to the small car chase in the end. A little incoherent at first, his report grew increasingly ordered as he slowly calmed down.

"Basically it ended with me taking a dive in the Thames in a Royal Mail van," he finished, trying to rub the water out of his ears. However as the towel had long ago lost his usefulness due to the sheer amount of water, this try was condemned to fail. Benji was now hardly any dryer, but at least somewhat more focused. "What are you all doing here anyway?" he asked, finally giving up on the towel that by now was dripping itself.

"We got an automated emergency message from Skye," Ethan said, who had been helping Luther to put the door back in place. It was hanging at a strange angle when open, but surprisingly the lock still shut, holding it in place. "It was coming from this location." He tried to say it as calm as possible, but of course, the technician was immediately alarmed.

"What? Skye? What happened? Where is she?" he asked and thought he could feel his heart skip a beat. He felt more than slightly guilty for not having thought about his girlfriend until now. Who knew what might have happened to her!

"No idea. The signal of her mobile is still coming from this location, but the only one who was here when we came in was this clown," Luther replied, indicating the dead body that was still lying on the floor between the sofas, by now in a small puddle of his own blood that had started forming around him. Benji swallowed hard. Surely Holt wouldn't have gone out leaving her phone behind, and even if so, it would rather be lying somewhere in plain sight, on a table or a shelf, but he couldn't see it anywhere here. That meant that either she was still here, which was more than unlikely, or that she hadn't left of her own free will, which was more than disturbing. "We have to find her!"

"And we will," Ethan said in the voice that left no room for doubt. "But it helps no one if you catch the flu, so why don't you get yourself warmed up and dry while we see what we can find out here?"

Benji was about to object, but there was not much he could say. Even though he hated to admit it he knew that Ethan was right, especially when he looked down at his feet where a puddle had been forming that was already bigger than the one around the dead man. "Alright," he said with a defeated sigh and snatched the change of clothes from his suitcase by the sofa before he vanished into the bathroom.