"Frankie?"

Hannibal and BA stared, their breakfasts momentarily forgotten.

"Frankie," Face said. "I did once say that maybe he was just totally insane."

"Frankie." Hannibal shook his head, amazed. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Well, not really 'Frankie' of course," Face went on. "He wasn't called Frankie Santana; we knew that. According to the file his name was Jose Medina and he was CIA. He ended up committed here after some kind of incident involving a rebel band in Columbia. There weren't a lot of details. And the rest of his history seemed just as murky. Kind of makes me wonder about some of the stuff he told us about his past."

"Not that Project Loyola crap," Murdock said. Face just shrugged.

"Okay," Hannibal said, after a moment's thought. "That's interesting, and ties up that loose end, but that's not why we're here. I know..." He raised a hand, when they started to protest. "I want to know more too, but we can't let ourselves be distracted. There'll be time later to see what else we can find out, but for now we have to stay focused. Did you find the information on Miller?"

"Yep," Murdock said. "We got her cabin number."

"Anything else in her file?" Hannibal asked. "Anything that contradicts what Stockwell told us?"

Face shook his head. "Looked consistent to me. Maybe this time he actually told us everything."

"Maybe," Hannibal said. "Maybe." He glanced at the clock. "Let's get this thing done fast."

They left the mess deck and found her cabin. A tap on the door brought no response from inside. While BA stood guard, Face got the door open and Hannibal, Face and Murdock slipped inside.

The drapes were pulled, so Murdock flicked on the light. Movement made all of them jump when the light came on, but it wasn't Kate Miller, just a canary in a cage. Disturbed by their entrance, the bird hopped around, chirping. Murdock went over to the cage.

"Hey, Tweetie. What's up?"

"Search," Hannibal ordered and they began a systematic sweep of the cabin. It was larger than the ones the team were living in, again making Hannibal think those were temporary cabins for new arrivals. Even so the three men got in each other's way as they moved around.

No sign of a struggle, Hannibal judged. The room was messy, books overflowing the shelves and papers and notebooks stacked high on the desk. But only messy, not trashed. He glanced over the papers and a couple of notebooks, but none of it meant anything to him. All arcane wiring diagrams and equations.

"Hey, look at this."

Hannibal and Face turned to Murdock, who stood beside the bed. He pointed at the small nightstand, which held a mug and a small plate of cookies.

"The cup's full of cold tea and the cookies are stale," Murdock said.

"Like they've been there overnight?" Hannibal said, glancing at the closed drapes, strong sunlight showing through them. The bed didn't look slept in either.

"At least," Murdock said, sniffing one of the cookies.

"Maybe she is sick," Face said. "One of us could get into the medical centre and see if she's in there."

"I wonder how long it takes before someone is missed around here," Hannibal said.

"Probably when they don't show up for appointments with the shrinks," Face said. He'd resumed searching, checking the desk now. Finding a locked drawer he took his picks out again.

Hannibal looked from the nightstand to the birdcage. The canary seemed perky enough. Its water bowl was full and clean. It had more than enough seed to eat. A box of birdseed stood on the desk.

"Huh," Face said, breaking Hannibal's train of thought. Face was looking down into the drawer he'd unlocked, baffled. "It's empty. Why lock an empty drawer?"

"You sure?" Hannibal joined him and Face felt around inside the drawer, searching for hidden compartments.

"Nothing... No, hang on." He shook his head. "Not in the drawer, underneath the top. The drawer just hides it."

"What is it?"

"Sliding panel."

Hannibal heard the small sound, wood sliding against wood.

"Not sticking," Face said, working blind. "Either greased, or used often enough to be worn smooth." He bent down to look inside. "Can't see, but..." He smiled suddenly. "There. A small lever."

Murdock joined Hannibal and Face looked up at them both.

"So do I pull it?"

"How can you not?" Hannibal said.

"Okay, but if it's the self-destruct system, I'm blaming you two."

Face pulled the lever and immediately movement made all three of them back away from the desk, but they stepped up to it again, when they saw a small section of the wall in front of them had dropped open on hinges, exposing a dark space. Two small metal handles were just visible.

Hannibal pulled gently on the handles and a board slid forward across the desk. It held a collection of electronic parts, all exposed, no case to hide the mass of wires, circuit boards and speakers. A couple of batteries were wired into it, chunky black cubes, sitting near the edge of the board.

"What is it?" Face asked, his voice low.

"It's a radio," Hannibal said. "It has to be. That's her field. She built herself a radio."

"To transmit or receive?" Murdock said.

"Well, I doubt she'd have a secret radio just to listen to The Voice of America. Face, go take BA's position and send him in here."

Face hurried off and BA came in. He took in the room with a glance and his eyes widened at the sight of the strange device on the desk.

"BA, what do you make of this?"

"Man, this is made of anything and everything," BA said, giving it a close inspection. "How'd she get hold of this stuff?"

"We'll figure that out when we have time. Opinion. Is it a radio?"

BA examined it in more detail, nodding now and again and making soft exclamations. After a couple of minutes he nodded at Hannibal.

"Yeah, it's definitely a radio. Short wave."

"Short wave?" Hannibal said. "So you're saying that she could have contact with the shore?"

"With this she could talk to any place in the world."

"What the hell is going on here?" Murdock said quietly.

"I don't know, but I don't like it," Hannibal said. "Maybe she built this because radios are her thing. But maybe she's talking to someone ashore. Could be someone on our side, or it could be the enemy, or it could be some radio ham in Cleveland." He grinned suddenly. "At least we won't have to break into the radio room to contact Stockwell."

"That's true," Murdock said, looking pleased. "We gonna contact him now?"

"We're supposed to secure Miller first," BA said.

"That was before she disappeared and we found this." Hannibal waved a hand at the radio set. "The plan is not exactly running smoothly now, is it?"

BA shrugged. "Up to you, man. I got the frequency. You wanna call now?"

Hannibal felt suddenly reluctant. Call Stockwell and ask for further orders? Pretty lame. Okay, things were going differently than anticipated, but no battle plan survives contact with the enemy. Adapting to changing circumstances was what Hannibal did best. Adapting and still getting the job done.

"No," he said. "First we do what we came to do. Find Miller."

"What if she's already off the ship?" Murdock asked. "Maybe she called herself a cab."

"Nah, there'd have been some kind of alarm," BA said. Since Hannibal wasn't going to use the radio he slid it back into its hiding place. Murdock closed the panel that hid it and it clicked into place.

Hannibal walked around the cabin, getting back on the train of thought Face had interrupted earlier. Reading glasses on the night stand along with that mug of cold tea and the stale cookies. A photograph stood there too, of a man he recognised from Stockwell's briefing as her late husband. And then there was the bird. He stood by the cage and watched the canary for a moment. The clean water, the full seed box.

"She went somewhere in a hurry and she didn't go willingly," Hannibal said. BA and Murdock went quiet, watching him. "If she's not sick on the hospital deck, then someone is holding her somewhere. For at least one night, maybe two,"

"They gotta have secure facilities some place on the ship," BA said. "You know, like a brig."

"What could an old lady like that do to get tossed in the brig?" Murdock asked.

"You mean aside from building a radio to have secret contact with the shore?" Hannibal asked.

"Um, oh yeah." Murdock grinned sheepishly. "But they don't know about that, do they? Or they'd be all over this place."

"So why'd someone grab her?" BA asked.

"What if Stockwell isn't the only one who thinks Miller knows where her husband's notes are?" Hannibal said.

"That's bad, Hannibal," Murdock said. "They could be hurting her right now to get that information from her. How long can an old woman like that hold out?"

"We gotta find her now!" BA said.

"Plan, Hannibal?" Murdock asked.

"Plan. BA, you're going with me to search below decks. Face will check the medical centre, in case Miller's in there. Murdock, you're going to wait here. When Face is done in the medical centre he can come down here and stay with you."

"Wait here, why?" Murdock asked.

Hannibal picked up the box of birdseed from the desk.

"Because someone has been in here to feed this bird."

~~~~

Murdock lurked in Kate's cabin, staying on his feet most of the time, fearing he'd go right to sleep if he lay on the bed. Over the years with the team he'd lost so much sleep that he took any chance he got to pay back some of that sleep debt. He tried to keep himself alert by reading, but most of her books were technical, and well beyond him, despite the radio knowledge he had from his flight training. So mostly he walked around, talking to the canary, calling it Tweetie Pie and wishing he knew its real name.

Face came back just short of an hour later.

"Anything?" Murdock asked, closing the door behind him.

"No sign of her."

"What scam did you use to get in there?"

"Who needs a scam? I just told them I was seasick. They gave me an injection."

Murdock nodded. Face had always been a bad sailor. "I thought you looked less green."

"I do feel -"

The sound of a key in the door cut him off.

Neither man spoke. Face gestured at Murdock get behind the door, while he concealed himself around the side of the wardrobe near the door.

Murdock switched off the light just before the door opened. Face, peeking around the wardrobe, knew right away that it wasn't Kate. He could only see a dark figure outlined against the light from the corridor, but it was clearly a man, not a woman. The man stepped inside, closed the door behind him and turned on the light. The canary began to squawk.

"Okay, okay," the man called, testily. "I'm here, aren't I? Do you want more food already, you greedy little -"

He got no further. Face flung the wardrobe door open, slamming it into the man's face. He didn't even cry out, just fell backwards into Murdock's arms. As Murdock laid the man down, Face dropped to his knees and checked to make sure he was really out. He appeared to be, with a big red mark in the centre of his forehead and blood leaking from his nose.

Face frowned and looked up at Murdock, who had the same look of recognition on his face.

"This is the guy who gave us the welcome wagon when we arrived," Murdock said. He looked down at the name badge on the officer's shirt. Face didn't have to look at that. He remembered.

"Blaine. His name's Blaine."