"So, Face, why'd we knock out Mr Blaine?" Murdock asked. He held up his hands when Face frowned at him. "I ask merely for information. I'm sure you've got your reasons."

"I didn't know who was coming in," Face said, going through Blaine's pockets.

"And you've adopted a 'knock 'em out first, ask questions later' policy? Wow, you must be hard on door to door salesmen and Jehovah's Witnesses."

"We couldn't let anyone see us in here, could we?"

Murdock shrugged. "So why do you think he's here? What's he up to?"

Face smiled grimly and held up a small Beretta pistol he'd found in Blaine's pocket.

"Nothing good. The officers on here don't routinely carry sidearms."

Murdock took the gun. "Aw, a Bobcat. Haven't seen one of these in years. Cute, if kind of girly."

"Cute, girly and very easy to conceal. Give it back to him."

"What?"

"If we take it, he'll know we're on to him."

"Getting an unexpected wardrobe door to the face could be construed as a clue there too, Face."

Face took the gun from Murdock and slipped it back in Blaine's pocket. "Let's keep him guessing at least."

"Not just him," Murdock muttered. "I suppose this means we're not going to wake him up and ask where Miller is?"

Face shook his head. "No. Assuming he's got her stashed some place, it'll be quicker to let him lead us to her than to try to make him talk."

"Think Hannibal will agree to that?"

"You see Hannibal anywhere in this room?"

"No, but... hang on, Face, if we start following him, we have to stick to him until he leads us to her. How are Hannibal and BA going to find us?"

"You go find them. I'll follow Blaine and I'll..." He looked around, and then hurried over and opened a drawer underneath the sink. After a moment's rummaging he came out with a lip pencil.

"That's not your colour," Murdock said.

"Just follow my breadcrumb trail."

A groan from the downed Blaine made them look at him then head for the door as he began to stir. They hid around the nearest corner, watching the door to Miller's cabin.

"Go, Murdock. Find Hannibal and BA. I'm betting the first thing he'll do is head for the infirmary for patching up."

"Okay. Be careful. Don't forget. He's armed."

~~~~

Blaine sat up, groaning and holding his painful and bloodied nose. His head pounded. What the hell just happened? He remembered walking in here, coming to check on that damn bird again and then... his head exploded?

Someone else had been in here. How many guesses did he need to figure out whom? A thought made him gasp and reach for his pocket. His Beretta was still there.

"What the hell?" He checked it, hands slippery with the blood from his nose. Still loaded. They left him his gun? Why would they do that? Maybe they just hit him and left? No way. They were professionals. They must have searched him.

So why hadn't they been here when he woke up? Maybe there'd only been one of them in here and he didn't think he could handle Blaine alone. He almost laughed at himself for that idea. Yeah right. They're Green Berets. Which meant that any one of them could certainly handle Blaine alone. Or wouldn't actually admit it if he couldn't.

Though dizzy, he managed to stand up, steadying himself against the wall. Had to contact his people. Or should he move Miller? Just in case. No. They might be watching. And he couldn't walk around covered in blood like this. Draw too much attention. He staggered out of the cabin into the deserted corridor, his head spinning. Walking felt about the same as it did during a force 10 gale.

Infirmary. Yes. Gotta get fixed up. Think straighter then. He'd say he slipped and bashed his face on something. That would work. Then he'd go call his people.

~~~~

Face watched Blaine stagger off up the corridor. Silently, he slipped around the corner and followed. As he passed Kate's cabin door he drew a small arrow on the wall with the lip pencil, pointing in the direction Blaine had gone.

As Face expected, Blaine did go to the infirmary first. After about a half-hour, Blaine and a doctor came out into the reception area. Face was lurking near enough to hear them talking. His fellow lieutenant now sported a big white Band-Aid on his nose. Though his face was clean now, dried blood stained his white shirt.

"You get to your cabin and rest, Lieutenant," the doctor said. "Take these painkillers when you get there. They'll put you out for a few hours. I'll call the Duty Officer and tell him about your accident."

Accident, Face thought. Yeah, he accidentally smashed his face into an oncoming wardrobe door. That lie spoke volumes. An innocent man would have reported the attack.

Blaine left the infirmary and Face began to follow him, hanging back, keeping out of sight. Blaine looked over his shoulder a few times, with a nervous expression, but was probably still too dazed to take more than such a basic precaution against being followed. Other officers stopped Blaine twice on the way, obviously curious, but Blaine got rid of them quickly, saying he needed to go lie down, doctor's orders. He spun them a line about slipping on some oil and mashing his face into a wall. A carefully rehearsed tale, barely varying by a word each time he told it.

It got harder to follow when they reached officer country and Face had to hang back, using the cover of alcoves and even a janitor's closet. He lost sight of

Blaine, but all the doors had nameplates and he quickly found Blaine's quarters.

Now what? The door wasn't thin enough to hear anything through it and he couldn't hang out in the corridor for long. Someone could walk out of a cabin at any moment and challenge his right to be here.

Well, there might be a way. He tapped softly on the door next to Blaine's, ready to run if someone actually answered. Nobody did, so he took out his lock picks again and broke in. In the dim interior, he spotted what he'd hoped to find - a small air vent high up in the wall between this cabin and Blaine's.

Face stood on the bunk and pressed his ear to the vent. Yes... there it was. Blaine's voice. And another voice. A woman's. Kate Miller? No, he didn't think so. He didn't think the owner of the voice was even in the room. Kate wasn't the only one around here with their own personal radio station. He had to strain to hear it, but Face could just follow the conversation.

"...discuss the details later?" Blaine said. "You need to move up the schedule. I need pick-up ASAP."

"You can hardly expect us to approach in daylight." The woman's voice again, distorted by distance and interference.

"So I have to wait all damn day? What if they pick me up? Try to make me talk?"

"Then I expect you to remain silent. Pick-up boat will be there at twenty-two-thirty hours."

"And what am I supposed to do until then?"

"What you're trained to do. Hold your nerve."

Blaine cut the connection and groaned. Face almost felt sorry for the guy. After a second he heard him moving about and the sound of the faucet running, filling a glass. Another moment and then the creak of the bedsprings. Sounded like Blaine had taken his painkillers and was going to sleep off his headache until zero hour. Rhythmic snores confirmed that a few minutes later. Time for Face to go see if the others had followed his trail.

He found them lurking near the only entrance to the block of officers' quarters. Unless he used a fire exit, Blaine would have to come out this way when he left.

"We should go pick him up," BA said, after Face finished his report of what he'd heard. "Make him talk."

"No, we shouldn't," Face said.

"You got a different idea in mind, Face?" Hannibal asked. "Is that why you didn't hang onto him in Miller's cabin?"

"What are we really going to do if we pick him up?" Face asked. "How exactly do you plan to make him talk? He's not some jumped-up street thug; he's an agent. One of your bluffs isn't going to work."

Hannibal looked at him searchingly. They had training in extracting information of course. They hadn't used it in a long time. Not the... serious methods.

"Face thinks we should follow him and let him lead us to Miller," Murdock said.

"Quicker all around," Face said, smiling ingratiatingly, at Hannibal, who was still looking at him without speaking.

"Then we pick him up?" BA asked.

"Maybe not," Face said. "Like I said his people are coming to get him and Dr Miller." He looked back at Hannibal again. "Don't you want to know who those people are?"

"Pretty sure he'll tell who he works for eventually," Murdock said, looking puzzled.

"Eventually, huh? You mean after Stockwell has him tortured?"

The others went quiet at Face's words, Murdock looking down, BA scowling even deeper than usual. Hannibal still just watched Face, silent.

"Let's not forget who we're working for here," Face said. "Any of you think that Stockwell wouldn't do that? Are any of you ready to hand Blaine over for that to happen?"

"If he's an enemy agent -" Murdock began, but Face cut him off.

"I'm the one who listened in on his radio call. He spoke English. Not Russian, or Chinese - English. So I think we need to see exactly who comes to pick him up. Because there's more going on here than meets the eye."

"Always is when Stockwell's involved," Murdock muttered, getting a growl of agreement from BA. Face turned to look at Hannibal again, to meet that searching gaze.

"Face," Hannibal said, "if Stockwell picks up all of us up - us, Miller, Blaine and Blaine's backup, well, he's -"

"Outnumbered?" Face said. Hannibal frowned. Not in a disapproving way, more... thoughtful. "Look," Face went on. "I don't know exactly what we should do. But just tell me that we're not going to do this... his way."

Hannibal's serious, thoughtful look suddenly dissolved into a grin. "No, Face, we're not. After all, he always loved it when we improvised. Okay, let's go call Stockwell and tell him to show up at twenty-two-forty hours."

"What?" Murdock said. "Face said Blaine's boat is coming at twenty-two-thirty."

Hannibal grinned again. "Yes it is. Which gives us ten minutes to... improvise."