Jargon shot a weary look at Travis, who was sleeping at one of the desks, slumped happily on the keyboard. He hoped Travis wasn't drooling on it. Sosh walked into the fridge, carrying a paper bag. The evident grease on the bottom told Jargon it was an oily substance of some sort.

"Are they back yet?" Jargon asked, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. Sosh shook her head and sat down. "I mean, I'm not worried about them or anything." Jargon said. He shrugged.

Sosh nodding in understanding. Then a silence passed.

"I'm worried." She said.

"Yeah, me too." Jargon said, quickly agreeing.

"Tibbs, Wiley, you two go left. Hooten, you and I are covering the right. We're not letting this bastard get out of this building." Price said. Her team nodded quickly and they disbanded.

"You think they're worried?" Wiley asked.

"Who?" Tibbs asked, sweeping the area.

"Jargon, Sosh, Travis. Think they're wondering where we are?" Wiley asked, pointing his gun into a dark corner.

Tibbs shrugged. "They're probably sleeping."

"I should be sleeping." Jargon said, yawning.

"I don't know what building they're in.' Sosh shook her head. They had woken Travis up with a plan, though it was clear now that they had no idea how to execute it.

"Eh, we'll never find them." Travis said, typing.

"Well, they haven't driven anywhere in the past 16 hours, so they should be in the area." Sosh said. "R-right?"

"Normally, sure, but this isn't really normal." Travis said. "Remember what Price said before they left? Highest level of clearance was necessary. They didn't even bother to tell us half the story or what they were going after." He snorted, shaking his head.

"Okay, so they might've gone on foot. I just want to know where they are." Sosh said, sighing.

Jargon thought for a minute. After a minute or so he too collapsed back into his chair and shook his head. "Complete radio silence. They're not even talking to each other." He said. Then he frowned. 'What's got them so spooked?"

"Not sure. 'Vague' doesn't cover it. I know some stuff, from conversations Price had with Tibbs. Something about weapons." Sosh said.

"Weapons?" Jargon said. "I heard Price tell Jack it was a hostage crisis."

They both looked to Travis.

He smiled and shook his head. "Three strikes, mi amigos. I heard Hooten say it was some kind of smuggling ring. Drugs, foreign workers, stuff like that."

"You think they were doing it cause they knew we'd be listening?" Jargon asked. His face scrunched up into a puzzled expression.

"Maybe. Cause you know, inside the Siberian Tundra known as the fridge, we can do a lot of hearing." Travis said. He sighed. "What really sucks is that we can't go home."

"Yeah. They leave for 16 hours and don't tell us what's going on but they don't let us go home?" Sosh mumbled. She reached into the greasy bag and pulled out a pack of chips. She threw one to Travis and Jargon took a sip of his coffee.

Travis groaned and shut his eyes. When he opened them, they fell on the cell phone lying on the desk. His eyes, blurred and dim from the lack of sleep, suddenly lighted up.

He grabbed the phone. "The phone!"

"What?" Jargon asked through bites of his burger.

"We could call them and track their position." He said.

"It wouldn't work if the phone is turned off." Sosh said.

"And what if it's on? What if they're undercover or something?" Jargon said.

"Okay, so it's flawed." Travis shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

"Well, Price can leave us here like frozen fish sticks but sooner or later I'm going home." Travis said, sighing.

"We need beds." Sosh mumbled, laying her head on her arm.

All of a sudden there was a shrill ringing.

The phone.

All three looked at the phone and at each other.


Maggie Wilson stooped under her umbrella, cursing silently at the rain, which only added to her already rotten mood. She groaned and raised her binoculars to her eyes. She peered through them and saw several figures walking, their umbrellas shielding them from wet.


"Jargon?" Price said.

"Uh-huh." Jargon mumbled, looking at Travis and Sosh.

Price frowned. He seemed distant. Like someone who was trying to cover up a kitchen fire.

"What's going on?"

"Should ask you the same thing." Travis said.

"Travis?" Price asked in surprise.

'And Sosh." The girl's voice came on.

"I know that I didn't give you guys a whole lot to work on." She said. "I spologize. But we got the guy so we're free to tell you all about it."

"Annie, I'm not really mad. But we're a team, you know?" Jargon said. "It wasn't easy catching the guy and we didn't even know who we were after."

"But I can fill you in now." Annie said.

"We're listening." Sosh quickly said.

Price sighed. "A week ago, the head of Avatar Technologies was murdered." She said.

Sosh scowled in confusion. "But the news said-"

"The news was fed misinformation in order to keep things low. An extremist militia calling themselves the Red Knights murdered him outside his home. The press was told that he died of a heart attack in order to keep things from escalating."

When there was no answer on the other end, she went on.

"We were assigned to this case and ordered to keep the information on a need-to-know basis."

Travis shook his head and scoffed. "And we didn't need to know?"

"The higher ups didn't think so." She sighed. "I fought for it, but they gave me a solid no."

"So who did it?" Sosh asked.

"Marcus Nomanza, a long-time member of the Red Knights." Her voice drifted a bit, as if she was pulling the phone away from her face. "Listen, we're doing some sweeps, but we'll be back soon."

The phone went dead.

Jargon clicked the speakerphone off and sighed. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"I don't like this." Travis said. "How do we know now how much they tell us on any other assignment?" He asked.

"She had to follow orders, Travis." Sosh said.

"But who found the killer?" Jargon said. "I'm not siding with anyone here, but we're the ones who find these guys. And we did it on severely limited information. How much are they going to hold out next time?"

Sosh looked at the two boys and suddenly felt outnumbered.


Annie walked around the concrete parking lot, her shoes tapping against the floor. Hooten and Tibbs were escorting their newly acquired terrorist to the proper authorities. And Wiley…no one really knew where Jack Wiley was. Price assumed he was checking the building to make sure there weren't any booby traps.

Then out of nowhere, something collided with her head. She staggered forward before falling.


They say silence is golden. But Sosh didn't think so. It was too eerie. The humming of the machines, the bare emptiness. She had never been there later than anyone else. Even then, Price was around, or Tibbs. But it was two o'clock in the morning and there was no one but the three of them.