Sue found Betty still unwilling to talk at first, but eventually she (with Levi's help, for sure, as well as the revelation that Sue was taking care of Betty's beloved dog Lilly) brought Betty to the point of acceptance and, thus, of willingness to talk.

"I didn't know anything about any of this," Betty said, sincerely and sorrowfully.

"I never thought you did," Sue responded with genuine care.

"What do you need to know?" Betty asked.

On the other side of the glass, Jack watched his wife work. He knew how to be good cop, he knew how to be bad cop, but Sue had a natural grace, a genuine love and care for people, a sincere belief in them, and an ability to see things in them that others could not—whether a natural insight or a result of her need to examine constantly since she couldn't hear what was happening—which proved correct again and again and again. He regretted yelling at her about her nice fantasy world. She was correct so often, and he really needed to learn to just believe in what she'd said more.

And he also needed to stop thinking of her as his wife. That part of the assignment was done. They were not undercover anymore. He needed to focus . . . and he needed to get in there and join Sue in finding out what Betty could tell them.

At Sue's request, and Jack's easy acquiescence by way of apology for not believing her before, they brought Betty to the bullpen since she was cooperating now.

"So, um . . . I'm still not sure what I can tell you?" Betty said uncertainly.

"Who he's been talking to on the phone," Jack replied. "Where he had lunch, who he had lunch with. Did he give you any indication that something big was about to happen?Any odd behavior whatsoever."

At Betty's overwhelmed expression, Sue added gently, "Just give us anything you can think of. Even if it seemed perfectly innocent at the time, it could help us figure out where he is now, or where he might be going."

Before Betty could say anything, Tara interrupted with, "We were able to lift a couple of names from imprints on a pad of paper in Joseph's den. I'd like to see if you recognize them. Jim Engle?"

"He works at the bank where we have all our accounts," Betty said, her first moment to actually contribute something. "I didn't know him very well."

Looking to Jack, Tara said, "We checked him out. He's legitimate." Then, returning her attention to Betty, "How about Delores Steffensen?"

"That's Joseph's secretary. I can't believe she'd be involved in anything illegal." She paused, then lowered her head. "Of course, I would have said the same thing about Joseph."

"Ms. Steffensen was with the company long before he got there," Tara confirmed for the others. "I think she's clean."

Betty looked up, confused. "Why are you asking me these questions if you already know the answers?"

"To make sure we have the same information," Jack said. "If we don't, it could be a place to look further."

Sue smiled at him softly from behind Betty's head, and signed, Thank you. He could easily have told her that it was to make sure she was telling the truth, because that was certainly a part of it. It wouldn't have helped Betty want to continue to cooperate, and that was probably his reasoning, but sometimes he said things like that to find out how someone reacted. The very fact that he didn't told Sue he truly trusted Betty—and her—now, and wasn't willing to put Betty through even more turmoil than she was already experiencing.

"Betty, we also got an impression of the word 'ultralights' with the word 'Rydell' written next to it. Any idea who Rydell is?"

"No. That's my husband's handwriting but . . . I don't remember him ever mentioning that name." She shrugged helplessly.

"What about this?" Tara asked, showing further imprints.

"No, sorry."

"How about—"

As Tara continued taking Betty through the images of impressions, Sue and Jack locked eyes for a moment, and for that moment, neither seemed to be thinking entirely about the case.

Every agent had been out hauling in every person they possibly could for any minor violation, who they thought might possibly have a connection with a connection with an inkling of an idea of what Vanderwylen/Arif Dessa was up to.

In Myles words, at the end of it they still didn't "have jack. Well, we have you, Jack, but little else."

But when they returned to the bullpen, they were greeted with the good news that Sue and Betty did have something else. "Even though Betty didn't recognize the Four Freshman when we showed her their pictures, she did recall one of them from his college admission files."

"His name is Karim Mansoor," Betty said. "I never actually met him, but I remember his application. He suffers from hypothyroidism, a condition which requires him to take constant medication. Since the INS frowns on people entering the country with chronic diseases, they can have a very difficult time getting a visa. Karim was the son of a business associate of my husband Joseph's—" She paused, looking down sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, I know you say that's not his real name. I just can't seem to call him anything else."

"It's okay, Betty," Sue assured her. "Go on."

Betty took a deep breath. "Joseph asked me to do him one little favor. He asked me to leave the medical condition off of Karim's application. He said so he wouldn't have to go through any bureaucratic hassle. He'd never asked me to do anything like that before, and it seemed very important to him, so I did it." She sighed. "You fudge the rules one time in your life and it comes back to haunt you. What are the chances of that?"

"Better than you might think," Miles responded softly from where he was listening at his desk.

"Get the word out to all the pharmacies in the area," Jack said to the room at large, "to notify us immediately if they come in contact with, uh, Karim Mansoor?" He looked to Betty for verification, and she nodded her head. "Or anyone else who's the least bit suspicious looking for medication for—" He gestured to Betty to provide the name of the condition again.

"Hypothyroidism," she said.

Jack shrugged. "Maybe we'll get lucky and the guy's due for a refill."

"We've got a martyr who's taking medication so he can live long enough to kill himself," Myles muttered. "How sick is that?"

Just then, Bobby and D walked up, having missed the previous news but filling everyone in on their new bit of information. "We're going through this list of numbers that have been called by Joseph, AKA Arif Dessa, over the past several months."

"Most of them we've been able to check out," D added, turning to Betty. "The rest we need to ask you about."

She swallowed. "I'll do what I can."

"Nickolas Pappas."

"Oh, he was, uh, a client of my husband's. We spent a week with him and his wife Kristen in Bruges several years ago. Joseph and Nickolas were conducting business, and Kristen and I were just on vacation."

"Let's do a background check on 'em," Jack suggested.

"Don Christianson," D continued.

"His son Cole mows our lawn. They live down the block. Other than that we don't have any contact with them."

"Gerlof Jobin."

"Gerlof was an old, old friend of Joseph's. They went to college together. Well, the legend has it they did more . . . sailing and partying than studying." At the word "sailing," Jack looked up at Betty with a start, but she didn't seem to notice. Cocking her head and contemplating, she added, "I never actually met him. Last I heard, he was living in London."

"I didn't know your husband was a sailor," Jack said.

"There's nothing in Arif Dessa's file that says he is," Tara contributed from her desk.

"Not a lot of sailing when you're hiding out in the middle of the desert," Bobby observed. "How good a sailor is he?"

She shrugged. "Well, he hadn't done it for a long time. He never even took me. Uh, apparently he used to be very good at it. He and Gerlof took a year off after college and virtually sailed around the world."

"That could be it," Bobby said, voicing what they all knew was true. "He could set sail out of here without anybody checking any passport or ID. Nobody'd think anything of it."

"Thank you, Betty, you've been a big help," Jack said sincerely.

"You ready for this?" Lucy asked, entering the bullpen. Whatever she was about to say, nobody thought it likely that they were ready for it.

They were right.

"Metro hospital just diagnosed a case of bubonic plague."