A/N: I hadn't planned on writing anything else for a little while as I am going into hospital soon for treatment on my back. However last night this just came to me. so I thought I would post it. This story is not as long as the last one.

Chapter one,

5 a.m.

"Right you two, listen carefully, you've not done anything like this before . You need to understand this man is dangerous, they wouldn't be paying us the money they are if this was easy. So you do exactly as I say. You got it?" The speaker was a tough looking man of medium height and build, his hair had once been chestnut brown now it was peppered with grey. His dark eyes were stern with no give in them.

"Shall I make the call?" She was young, in her early twenties her eyes wide her whole posture spoke of nervous energy.

The older man made one finally sweep of the area in the dark, they were in the courtyard the padlock and chain had been easy. Checking that the last of their group was in place hidden in the shadows. Satisfied, he nodded his head, the young woman pressed one on the speed dial of the cell phone she held up close to her face.

"Yeah Ma?" Came the mumbled answer.

The young woman gave a gurgling moan into the phone, and finished off with some raspy breathing. "Ma! I'm on my way." Came the panicked voice on the other end of the phone. She smiled and hung up.

Moments later the door to a loft at the top of a metal staircase burst open and a figure came running down the steps. So intent on juggling a cell phone and the keys to his car he failed to notice anything until the coils from a taser hit him in the back. The man's back arched as he dropped to the floor his body shaking.

The older man stepped forward disengaging the taser, he brought out cable ties. "Everything personal in that apartment remove it." He ordered. "Don't make any mess, get to it." As he spoke he cable tied the man's wrists and ankles. Working quickly before the man had a chance to recover his senses.

The young woman and a man of about the same age ran up the stairs carrying bin liners. By profession they were burglars so they knew their job. Making sure to leave no trace that they had been there they removed everything that a man leaving in a hurry would take. They left the loft with two bin liners each full off clothes, photos, toiletries and weapons.

They loaded the man into a plain white van, his mouth covered in duct tape and a blindfold covering his eyes. Before they left, the older man checked the loft and left the car keys beside the bed and made sure he locked the door taking the keys with him.

If everything went well, if they kept the captive under control until he was collected and his friends believed he had just left of his own accord. They should be rolling in money in the next forty eight hours.


10.30 a.m

Fiona stamped up the stairs that led to Michael Westen's loft. He was meant to of met her and a potential client for breakfast. That had been two hours ago. She had ended up making up an excuse for his tardiness and doing the meeting on her own. Once the client had left she had jumped into her car and driven over to see what was causing him to miss a meeting and not answer his phone. He was definitely at home, the black Dodge Charger was in its normal parking spot at the bottom of the stairs. As she reached the landing she got her key out and before going inside she called out "Michael?" He could be touchy about people coming into his home unannounced so it always paid to shout out first.

Getting no reply she strode inside, and looked around. "Michael?" She called out, the was no sign of him, she looked to the stairs leading to the little gallery area where he kept his computer and any paperwork he was working on. "Michael." She called out again. Puzzled, maybe he had gone for a run? She noticed his bed was unmade, that definitely wasn't normal Michael behaviour. She knew his routine and knew how much of a neat freak he could be. Checking the bathroom, it was empty, completely empty. Her heart began to beat faster, the was a horrible empty pit growing in her stomach. She had lived through this before, frantically she tore through the loft, checking all the drawers and cabinets, the little alcove where he kept his clothes, everything personal was gone.

Her legs felt like rubber and she started to feel light headed. Sinking to the floor, not again, he wouldn't do it again. After all this time, all they had been through. Not after the way he had fought to stop her leaving. Her mind kept up a constant barrage of thoughts. He knew what it did to her last time, he couldn't be that cruel.

She had no idea how long she was there before she pulled herself together. Then another thought hit her and this one nearly floored her a second time. Some one was going to have to tell his mother.

"Sam." Fiona sniffed the word out. "Sam can you come round to Mic- can you come round to the loft." Sam squinted at his phone not sure he was hearing correctly. Fiona sniffing. That just wasn't Fiona.

"What's up Fi?" He asked. He was already switching off his television, taking a final sip of his morning coffee.

"Just get here." She snapped. Hanging up before he could ask more stupid questions.

"Jeez, what's up with her." He said aloud as he got his keys to head out the door.


Sam stared at Fiona, listened to what she had to say, and then he had gone around the loft himself to check what she said was correct. All of Michael's personal items were gone. Apart from the unmade bed nothing else was out of place. He couldn't believe it of his friend. Well actually he could, Mikey had been trained to do it. Drop everything, pack up and leave without telling a soul and Mikey had always been one to follow his training. He cursed under his breath, how could Michael leave him to clear up all this mess.

"What about Madeline? Someone has to tell her." Fiona blurted out.

"Shit." Sam groaned, guessing who that someone would be. "Lets hold off before we do anything rash. We don't know for sure what has happened. Let me make a couple of calls see what I can find out."

"What do you think has happened Sam? Why would he go if it wasn't for his damn sacred job. All his clothes and guns are gone, the is no sign of a struggle. We both know if Michael wanted to put up a fight the would at least be blood and probably a couple of bodies left lying around. So we know he left willingly. It has to be the burn notice."

Sam knew that her argument was a good one. Nobody made Michael Westen go some place he didn't want to without a fight. Fiona had lived through one of his disappearing acts before, so she knew how he could leave without giving any hint about his plans. But checking it all out would delay the trip to Madeline's. So he intended on doing the most thorough investigation he could do.

"Fi, the is no good outcome here. Either he has run out on us all and left us to do the dirty work of telling Maddy. Or he has been taken by a professional retrieval squad and he is on his way to some foreign country. Now before we face his mom I think we should at least know what piece of bad news we are giving her."

Fiona stared at him like he was a bug on her shoe. "Do professional retrieval squads normally pack up their targets bags for them?"

"No Fi they do not. But let's not write Mike off just yet. He might not of had a chance to fight back. Go talk to your smuggling contacts see if any of them have been asked to take a large group of men out of the country quietly." It was more to give her something to do, while he made a few calls of his own.

By lunchtime Sam was sick of hearing the same words from every single government department he contacted. Because he did not have the correct clearance and codes he got the standard reply. "We can not confirm or deny that Michael Westen is working for or has ever worked for the US government. Thank you. The buddies, aquaintances he had cultivated over the years were not prepared to break rank and discuss Michael Westen, burnt spy.

In need of a drink he locked up the loft and headed for Carlito's, maybe Fiona had some news.