Episode 4.05

by mardel

It was early morning in beautiful San Diego, California. The sun was just lifting over the eastern hills, a light breeze making the palm trees along the waterfront rustle in the wind. A Pacific white-sided dolphin leapt out of the clear blue-green ocean not far from the shore. Then two more dolphins, bottlenosed, this time, broke the surface to breathe not far away. Had there been anyone to see them, they would have noticed something different about the pair of sleek silver-gray animals. They broke the surface in tandem for another breath, the harnesses strapped to their bodies black against the lighter gray of their flanks. They swam purposefully, headed into the murkier waters of Mission Bay and the local theme park that was their current home. Their unharnessed fellow traveler tagged along behind, apparently out of curiosity.

They had to navigate through the narrow opening to the harbor and past many docked boats. The lead dolphin didn't hesitate; it knew which turns to take through the winding waterway that led towards the park, easily finding the correct area of Mission Bay sheltering their secret entrance.

The pair stopped briefly about 100 feet off shore before the larger of the two swam towards a wide intake pipe at the water's edge. It entered, quickly followed by its companion. Minutes passed without their return and the third dolphin leapt out of the water several times as if looking to see where the other two could have gone.

The harnessed cetaceans emerged from the intake pipe, finding their way among the various holding areas where the seawater was filtered and clarified and on into their own home pool. There was a clang as the gate from the seawater holding areas to their habitat was winched shut, then a whistle. They swam towards the surface of the pool obediently at the sound.

"Good work, guys, you made it back in record time." A woman's voice praised the two dolphins and gave each of them a handful of fish.

She gave the signal for them to come up out of the water onto the low lip of their pool and stepped into the water beside them, leaning over to remove the nylon harnesses and their waterproof packages. She put the equipment aside so she could rub the backs of the pair, knowing they relished the relief from the constraining harness. She told them repeatedly how clever and intelligent they were, and the animals chattered and whistled back cheerfully.

When they'd had enough of the massage, she gave another whistle and a backward hand motion, sending them back into the pool. They slid into the water, but stayed near the edge, watching the woman for any other signals. She threw them each another fish from the bucket she had beside her.

"You did good. Take it easy, guys, I'll be back later."

The woman placed the two packages in the nearly empty treat bucket, covering them with the last of the fish, and carried them into the kitchen area of the building behind the dolphin pools.

"Hey, Pete. How's it going?" she asked one of her coworkers.

"Dandy," he replied as he sprinkled vitamin powder over the hotel pans of freshly thawed herring. "Nice weather for February. Should have a good crowd today." He didn't look up from his preparations as she passed him on her way to the large walk-in freezer.

She entered it and placed the two packages behind several boxes labeled 'IQF frozen mackerel,' then moved to another shelf and dumped a small bag of herring into her bucket. She returned to the kitchen and placed her bucket on a counter. "I'll be back in a second, Petey. I want to grab a smoke." She rinsed her hands and headed for the exit.

Once outside, she pulled a small cell phone out of her pocket and hit the speed dial button. As soon as the call connected, she pressed 'one' twice, then hung up, sending the signal that the packages had arrived.

As the sun lifted higher over the hills of the city, a man with a deep tan and scarred hands steered a fishing boat full of early morning anglers, making its way out of one of the local harbors that lined Mission Bay. He flipped his cell phone closed and nodded to his first mate, an older, weathered-looking man, who was coiling the dock lines. He grinned. Another successful delivery. In the tidelines between ocean and bay, a Pacific white-sided dolphin leapt, calling out with the distinctive chirps and whistles of its kind. Had any of the tourists onboard the charter boat known anything about dolphins, they would have wondered what the animal was looking for....

A famous Englishman once said, "We follow the rules of the sea me bucko, well mostly we do, sometime we have to bend them a little."OK, so he wasn't really a famous Englishman, he was a well known character from a book I read over and over again as a kid; Robert Louis Stevenson's Treasure Island. As a kid, I loved pirate stories....

Alex entered the Official's office exactly at nine. She was surprised to find both Hobbes and Fawkes already seated in chairs facing their superior’s desk.

"Alex, fancy seeing you here." Darien grinned at her and took a deep sip of his cup of coffee.

"Monroe," Hobbes stood politely as she approached and tugged a third chair into line with his and Darien's, offering it to her. "Nice to have you back. How was Philly?"

"Fawkes, Hobbes, it's good to be back," she nodded and reluctantly claimed the middle chair. She would have preferred to stand. "And Philadelphia was cold. What do you expect, this time of year?"

The Official entered his office just as she took her seat. He looked a touch pale, like he'd had bad news. Eberts was close behind him, carrying a small stack of files.

"Good. You're here. I've just been handed an assignment that will need all three of you. We just caught this case; it's been bounced around from agency to agency for over a month and it's finally landed with us."

Eberts handed each agent a folder. They dutifully opened them and flipped through the pages. Well, Monroe and Hobbes did, anyway. Inside were photos of the people under suspicion and the background information that was available on each. Darien glanced once at the top page and closed his folder.

The Official started the briefing. "We believe some sort of smuggling operation is being carried out from the grounds of Mission Bay Marine Park."

"Look out Flipper, Fish & Game is on the case," Darien quipped.

Bobby low-fived his partner behind Alex's chair. "Good one," he smirked.

"When you gentlemen will settle down, Eberts will explain," the Official glared at them.

"If you would be so kind as to check page four of your briefing materials," Albert shot Darien a pointed look and the ex-thief sighed and opened his folder again. "You'll see a detail of the coastline in the area. As best as we can determine from surveillance photos, the most easily accessible spot for the activities in question is the land owned by the Marine Park," Eberts began.

"We'll be sending in two of you undercover. Agent Fawkes will act as control on this mission. Hobbes, you'll be going in as one of the park's non-professional employees. Monroe, we've arranged for you to go in undercover as a dolphin trainer," their boss interrupted.

"A Marine park? I don't think even a Five Star-rated agent has knowledge to cover training marine mammals, Chief," Hobbes pointed out.

"And whaddaya mean, I'm gonna be in the van? Since when am I the 'van guy'?" Darien interrupted.

"Eberts has arranged for her to take a crash course with the Navy's Space and Naval Warfare Systems Center dolphin training facility up the coast while you two start the investigation," the Fat Man ignored the outburst.

"Uh, dolphin trainer? Sir, are you sure that's really necessary?" Alex knew she looked unhappy at the idea.

"Uhm, I don't see it here; what is it that they're supposed to be smuggling?" Darien butted in, unaware of Alex's seeming reluctance to take on this particular cover.

"A little of everything, it seems, which is why the case kept changing agencies," Eberts answered. "Firearms, drugs, jewels... even illegal medicines from China."

"So this is going to be a double undercover case?" Bobby asked, making sure he had all the facts.

"Yes. You'll need to take a job at Mission Bay Marine Park, as a behind the scenes-type employee, while Darien remains on surveillance detail," the Official nodded. "And yes, Agent Monroe, we feel that would be the best cover for you and your... talents. Keep me posted on your progress, all of you."

Alex stood abruptly. She didn't like particularly this assignment, but it didn't seem to be a dangerous one, even if she wasn't overly fond of the idea of being up to her elbows in fish guts for the duration. And she liked working with Fawkes and Hobbes every once in awhile, so there was that, too.

Hobbes followed suit, standing. "Eberts, you got a line on any job openings at the Park?" he asked tersely. "I have an idea about what I could do around the place and still be able to move around freely so's I can keep my eyes and ears open, if the Official hasn't already fixed me up there."

The Official shook his head. "No, you're on your own. We don't know exactly who's involved, Hobbes, so we don't want to risk tipping off our suspects by getting too mixed up in the hiring and firing. It's bad enough that I've had to pull some strings -- some long ones -- to make sure Miss Monroe will be given access." The Official shut his own folder and rested his sausage-like fingers on top of it. "No, I trust your ability to find a way to infiltrate the park, Bobby," he added.

"Yes sir," Bobby responded briskly. Alex swore that he was a muscle twitch away from saluting their porcine boss in a reflex acknowledgement of the Fat Man's near-compliment.

"Why do you get to go undercover?" Darien whined as he unfolded himself from the chair. Hobbes turned sharply as a marine on the parade grounds and marched for the door, Darien slouching after him.

"What kinda job skill could you offer a theme park that they'd actually hire you for, Fawkes? We can't have you stuck in a concessions stand all day. You wouldn't be very useful gathering information," Bobby reminded him.

"And you would?"

"Yeah, cuz I won't be stuck selling cotton candy to school kids, partner. I'm fully qualified as a groundskeeper, smartypants. I have legit references in tropical plant care and I can look the part," Hobbes pointed out.

Darien was about to protest, but in all honesty, Bobby did kind of look like the sort of guy you'd see working groundskeeping duties; just put him in work pants and a beige shirt. It didn't seem like such a stretch to Alex, and apparently after a moment's thought, not to Fawkes, either.

"Just look at it this way, Fawkes. Surveillance is good practice. Gotta keep those new agent credentials up to date and all. Besides, I'm sure we'll need you to sneak into a few offices or something, as soon as Alex and I have identified whoever is behind this operation."

"Yeah, yeah, OK," Darien agreed, sulkily, as they disappeared together down the hall.

Alex turned her attention to Eberts. "So where is this place I'm going to get up to speed on dolphins?" she asked crisply.

"Just south of Santa Cruz, Miss Monroe. The SNWSC branch in Monterey is a classified training facility with top clearances. It should provide you with all the information you need," Eberts began, and Alex nodded her comprehension. Sliminess aside, she suspected she was in for an interesting experience. Eberts went on, outlining what would be covered by her intensive two-day course.

"Agent Monroe, I understand you need a crash course in cetacean training and biology," a Navy lieutenant greeted Alex upon her arrival at the facility up the California coast. He was tall, dark-skinned, and rather handsome.

"Yes, a case my agency is working needs an undercover operative on the inside at the Mission Bay Marine Park as a trainer," she nodded and walked with the Lt. towards a large, open arena tank with several dolphins swimming inside.

"The first thing I guess you need to know is that dolphins are intelligent mammals. Those movies you may have seen about them are mostly based on truth. Although the Navy has ceased any programs using dolphins for offensive purposes, we do have in place one that trains them to detect and then report the presence of mines and explosives."

"I'd read something about that and their work with the ships stationed in the gulf now." Alex nodded.

"Several of those dolphins were trained here," he said, proud of his unit's work. "I've arranged for you to observe, and then practice interacting with several of our trainers and current trainees. It should give you enough basic knowledge so that you can convince the park that you have the skills needed to handle their animals."

"Good," she stated. "When can I get started?" Alex hoped they had understood the urgency of the request the Official had made to their Commanding Officer.

"Right now, Miss Monroe. I'll take you over to the prep kitchen where the trainers are getting ready to start the morning session." Together they made their way to the concrete building that housed the main quarters of the cetacean training group.

The naval officer introduced her. "Agent Monroe, this is Karen Tyler, our head trainer." A middle-aged woman with a deep tan and green eyes offered her hand to Alex, who shook it. "She has 10 years working with marine animals under her belt. She will be teaching you as much as possible about dolphins in the next few days," the Lt. concluded. He excused himself, leaving Monroe and Tyler to get acquainted, and Alex's education on marine mammals got under way.

Hobbes disconnected the cell phone, smirking his satisfaction that his contacts at the Balboa Park Botanical Gardens would vouch for him.

"So when did you ever work with plants and stuff?" Darien asked, still not sure he believed his partner.

"It was a case a few years before you came aboard. Rare tropical plants were being stolen from high profile government parks and several VIP homes," Bobby explained. He stepped into the McKinley Building's lobby and nodded at the receptionist, a recent and approved-of addition, and led the way to the front doors. "Come on, we need to head over to the Park and look the layout over."

"So they were stealing these rare plants and selling them? How big a case could that have been?" Darien continued to needle Hobbes as he followed his partner outside.

"You know, that was my first reaction, too. Plants? Not any kind of drug producing plant, mind you, just palm trees and bushes and stuff. What's the big deal? But it was a big deal, by the time the case was over we had recovered over 30 mil worth of stolen trees, flowers and other stuff. Most of them were endangered species." Bobby climbed into the van and belted in.

Darien slipped into his seat on the passenger side and slammed the door. Golda might have had an engine overhaul relatively recently, but her other parts were beginning to show some wear.

"Thirty mil? That is a big deal. Did you get any credit for breaking the case?" Darien already knew the answer to that question. The Official wasn't the best boss when it came to handing out praise.

"Yeah, credit. Nothing like a bonus or anything," Hobbes admitted. He started the van and sped off towards the park. Mission Bay Marine Park was one of the more popular tourist attractions in the area so it was easy to find. The line of cars approaching the parking lot would have been a dead giveaway even if there hadn't been enormous green-and-white freeway signs directing anyone and everyone to the place.

"What do you think this is all about? The file Eberts gave us says it’s been shifted from DEA to ATF, then to Department of Justice, and even the Coast Guard had it for a few weeks. Now it's our problem?" Darien questioned his partner as they joined the queue.

"Marine mammals, at least endangered ones, fall under the Department of the Interior who is one of the parent agencies for Fish and Game. So my guess is, that's how it ended up in our lap. They must believe that dolphins or whales are being harmed or endangered as part of this smuggling operation," Hobbes guessed.

"Oh, right," Darien snorted cynically. "You'd think DOJ would want it. Busting up a smuggling ring is a great press op. A nice, high profile kind of case." Darien held on as Hobbes made a very quick turn into the parking lot of the theme park. "Why give it to F&G when they could make brownie points with the Ways and Means Committee next time the budgets get re-upped?"

"They have their hands full with possible terrorist activities nowadays. They must not have any info that foreign nationals are involved."

"Don't you think we could handle this with a few invisible eavesdropping raids and a little intel?" Darien rather thought this case would be a walk in the park -- a walk in the theme park, as it were.

"Listen up, Penelope. No case that involves breaking the law is a waste of time. If we can't be on the front lines kicking butt with the big dogs right now, then we just have to do the job we can do, and keep America strong," Bobby stated, giving Darien a hard look.

"OK, chill out, man. I'm serious about my job. Don't blow a gasket." Darien lifted his hands in a sign of submission.

"Yeah, and don't you forget it either." Bobby patted his pocket for reassurance. Darien knew Hobbes'd taken his meds that morning, but his half-crazed partner always needed to prove he had the rest handy, especially when he was being razzed.

It was just past opening, so there were people milling about the park already. Bobby pulled off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves so he would look a little more like a tourist. Bobby paid for an entrance ticket and Darien just Quicksilvered and went inside right after him, dropping the invisibility as soon as he could duck behind an discrete maintenance building.

They picked up one of the maps of the park to plan their first recon of the place. There were several different arenas with animal shows: the dolphin spectacular, the whale show and one with other sea animals, like an otter, a seal and a walrus. Then there was the waterskiing show. There were also several exhibit buildings with animals that were just for looking at and learning about. The penguins even had their own little refrigerated iceberg. Some rescued seals and sea birds that were in a breeding program rounded out the park's resident creatures.

They wandered around the place, seemingly at random, but Fawkes knew nothing escaped Hobbes. Bobby took special interest in the layout of the side of the park area that was on the shoreline. "It wouldn't be very difficult to unload a small boat on that shore. Carry the stuff up and hide it or even just load it into a waiting car."

"How big of an operation do you think this could be?" Darien was still skeptical about any serious crime going down in a place with so many people around.

"If it's the type of merchandise they put in the briefing yesterday morning, it wouldn't have to be more than three people on this end and a few more doing the boat half picking up whatever cargo from a ship off shore or even another location down in Mexico. If they know the waters, it would be easy," Bobby estimated. "We don't even know for sure whether stuff is coming in or going out of this place. Or if it's both."

"You think the Coast Guard wouldn't notice the kind of thing you're talking about?" Darien knew the San Diego area Coast Guard was always patrolling the waters around the area. They were often in the local papers as having just picked up another boat attempting to bring illegal aliens into the country.

The two agents took a break in their reconnaissance and leaned over the railing that overlooked the point on the south end of the park. It was a beautifully sunny day, with puffy white clouds and a nice breeze. Seagulls were swooping around, keeping an eye out for popcorn or any other food unwary tourists might not be guarding.

"They do a good job, but they don't really have enough man power to cover as much coast as they need to." Bobby looked back at the crowd of people.

"When is your interview?" Darien asked.

"Later this afternoon. Seems one of the ground crew up and quit this morning," Bobby grinned. He'd had a friend of his at Immigration leak the rumor the day before that there was going to be a check on papers in the park area. As a result, several people hadn't reported for work that morning.

"You sure you don't want me to..." Darien offered. He didn't like to be as out of the loop as he was going to be on this case. He hated just waiting. Especially by himself.

"Yeah, I'm sure, hotshot. It's about time you got to sit around waiting on someone else to pull a few rabbits out of hats. This is MY shot at a little glory, OK, partner?" Bobby replied. Darien couldn't tell if he was teasing or getting annoyed, so he shut up and the rest of the morning went smoothly. He parted company with Hobbes at just before 2:00, arranging to meet his partner after the job interview.

Hobbes breezed through the applications and the interview process and they told him he was provisionally hired. There was just one more thing he needed to do....

Darien pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket as the vibration tickled him in the ribs. "Yeah. Fawkes."

"Fawkes, it's me. We got a problem, partner," Hobbes' voice came quietly over the receiver. It had an odd echo to it that piqued Darien's curiosity.

"What kind of problem, man? Didn't you get the job?" he asked, stifling a little glimmer of satisfaction at that idea.

"No, I got the job, smartass, but I gotta do a urine test!" Hobbes' concern was plain.

Darien laughed. He couldn't help it.

"It's not funny," Hobbes hissed.

"Yeah, Bobby it is." Darien snickered, but quietly.

"You punk. Get in here and give me a sample!"

"Uh, Hobbesy, I don' think that's such a good idea, pal," Darien chuckled.

"Whaddaya mean, not a good idea," Hobbes snapped, not far from losing his temper. "You know how many meds I'm on?"

"Yeah, I've got a pretty good idea, there, partner. They took up all the space on my bathroom counter for a week and a half after the earthquake, remember?" his voice dropped and he cupped the speaker in his hand to shield the conversation. "All I'm sayin' is, that's not the kind of drugs they're looking for, OK? Last I checked, Prozac, lithium, Valium, Wellbutrin and anything else you take was a prescription. They don't look for those. Just the illegal stuff. You know, like crack, or meth. Or Quicksilver. I'm not sayin' no, Hobbesy, just that you'd better be sure you really want to take it in the chops when the Fat Man finds out you had me give you the answers on this particular test. Cuz I don't know what-all they'd find in a sample from me. I may not have to have my fix every week or so any more, but there's still some pretty weird stuff floating around my system. Capishe?"

This reminder was met with a moment of nonplussed silence.

"Hey, but if you're scared to be in the little boy's room all alone, I'll come hold your hand," Darien added in the pause, grinning. He loved teasing his partner.

"Fawkes-" Hobbes erupted in a stream of consciousness burst of cursing that Darien found vastly entertaining.

"I'll meet you at the van, partner," Darien said, and hung up on Hobbes mid-rant.

"Thanks for the help," Bobby said sarcastically as he hopped into the van.

"No problem." Darien smirked. "So the boogeyman in the bathroom didn't get you, huh? Did you turn in your sample like a good little employee?"

Hobbes threw him a dirty look. "I start first thing tomorrow. So you can check in with me at lunch time." Hobbes started up the van.

"You don't want me to keep an eye on you?" Darien asked, relenting as a twinge of conscience stung him. He really wasn't sure he liked Bobby going in alone.

"I'll be fine. It's not the first time I've soloed on an undercover op, you know," Hobbes reminded him coolly, then grinned with a wag of eyebrows. "I remember one case in East Germany...."

The intensive course in dolphin ecology, behavior and biology at the Naval Center was going well; she was learning a lot. Alex stood her ground as the large mammal partially rose from the water and took a position on the edge of the training pool.

"Go ahead and touch him; they like the attention," Karen instructed Agent Monroe.

Alex leaned over and touched the wet back of the male dolphin. It was cool and smooth. The dolphin looked up at her with one bright eye, interested in meeting a new human.

"Now give him this fish; it has his vitamins in it." Karen handed Alex the doctored fish.

Alex had already undergone aversion training in the kitchen area, she no longer made a face when she touched a dead fish. She tossed the fish into Nemo's mouth and praised him for taking his medication.

"Good, now give him the signal to go back in the water."

Alex held her arm parallel to her waist, then moved it out away from her body.

Nemo pushed himself backwards using his tail and flippers and slipped into the water with a splash.

"Good. Take a break while I set up the next lesson."

"So the whistle is only a marker signal, it isn't the signal for the dolphin to do a trick?" Alex confirmed what she had learned so far.

"That's right, and we like to call it a behavior, not a trick. We haven't trained the dolphins to do anything they wouldn't do in the ocean. Leaping, flipping and tail walking are all behaviors they exhibit in the wild," Karen explained. "The whistle is the bridge that tells the dolphin he did good and he is going to get a treat for doing as he was asked."

"How long does it take to train them to understand?" Alex figured an intelligent animal wouldn't want to co-operate, at least at first.

"It depends on several factors. Wild animals taken from the ocean are stressed more than is healthy for them. It can take months for the dolphin to adjust to its new surroundings. The Navy has attempted to breed dolphins for their missions. But the breeding program wasn't very successful, only about half of the female dolphins had live calves over a 10 year period."

"So you do still capture from the wild?" Alex asked.

"Yes, but usually no more than a dozen animals a year. Most of our new recruits come from programs like the one Mission Bay has. They've had pretty good luck with captive breeding."

Alex nodded, glad to hear that relatively few wild-born animals were captured and imprisoned She was already starting to feel like entrapping these beautiful animals and using them for entertainment, much less counter-terrorism, was wrong

Alex arrived at Mission Bay Marine Park the following morning and prepared to assume her duties as the new dolphin trainer. It was only two days since she'd been given the assignment by the Official, and she was amazed at how much she'd learned in that short time.

"Alex Monroe?" a tall blonde woman in her 30’s greeted Alex as she picked up her employee ID badge and uniform. "I'm Julie Pryor, the head trainer with the dolphin exhibit." She offered her hand.

Alex jumped right into the character she had planned, a perky redhead eager to get to work. "Hello, I'm so glad to meet you. This is just going to be a great experience."

"Good, I'm glad you're ready to pitch in around here. We've been short-handed for a while, now. I'll show you around the park, then we can get started with your new co-workers and you can meet our dolphins." Julie smiled, leading the way onto the grounds.

She continued on as they walked, telling Alex about various exhibits as well as the shows. "We have four different live shows in the park, the whale show, the dolphin show, one with water skiers, and the sea lion and otter show. We try to educate our visitors as well as entertain."

"Yes, I know; Mission Bay Marine Park has a wonderful reputation for educating the public." Alex nodded, parroting back the company line like a good little employee.

Julie walked Alex around the park, pointing out the different show arenas, as well as the exhibits with sea life on display and the employee areas that were off limits to the public. "We also have a few rides but that area of the park is on the far side, away from the performance areas, to reduce stress on the animals."

Julie gave her the grand tour around the dolphin show building and introduced her to two of the other cetacean trainers. "Jena Smith and Dan Peebles, this is our new dolphin trainer, Alex Monroe."

"Glad to have you with us," Dan waved to her from his place at the table they used to prepare the fish for the dolphins. He was a well-built, deeply tanned twenty-something with short, dark hair.

Jena dried her hands and shook Alex's hand in greeting. "Nice to meet you. I'm sure you're going to love it here." Jena was a perky blonde with a curvy figure that could easily lead one to believe she was just another beach bunny. Alex knew from her background info that in this case looks were deceiving; Jena Smith had a degree in Marine Biology.

"It's great to meet you both. I think I'm going to like working here." Alex smiled.

"Since you have worked with dolphins before, it's just a matter of you learning our routines and having the animals get used to a new handler," Julie explained.

"Sounds good. Hopefully I'll catch on quickly, and not mess up the scheduling," Alex nodded cheerfully. She planned to have a look around on her break. Of all the people she had read background on, there were at least three she had a feeling about, but Julie wasn't one of them.

Alex passed the rest of the morning working to learn the different signals and the sequence they followed. She hadn't expected this assignment to be so demanding. It was well past one before she finally had a break. Most of the employees were headed for the small cafeteria that served the people that worked in the park. Alex poked around in the locker area at the arena but she didn't find anything obvious out of place. It looked as if this wasn't going to be as easy -- or as fast -- as she'd have liked. The smell of fish clashed with her perfume of choice...

"This case may take longer than expected." Alex met with the Official after her first day at the park was over. It was late, after 8:00 in the evening, and she was tired, not only from the physical labor of her new 'job,' but from spending a full day out in the sun and breeze.

That news clearly didn't sit well with the Official. "Do what you have to. The Agency needs to be successful on this," the Fat man informed her.

"Ah, Sir..." Eberts tried to interrupt.

"Is your budget under attack again?" Alex asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"That's need-to-know, Agent Monroe, and you don't need to know. Is Fawkes behaving himself for once?" the Official changed the subject.

"How should I know?" she asked dryly. "He's lurking in the underbrush, somewhere on the park grounds, keeping an eye on his partner the gardener, I assume. I haven't made contact with either of them, yet," she pointed out.

The Official frowned at her. "Keep me posted on your progress," he snapped, irritated.

Alex left his office, smirking to herself. She enjoyed occasionally annoying the Fat Man, and frankly, he deserved it for sticking her with 'fish and cut duty on this assignment. Fawkes would have been fine as a dolphin trainer, after all his experience recently with horses. He seemed to have a knack with animals.

The third day of their mission, Hobbes was working in the perennial border around the sealife exhibit hall weeding, or something, and Darien was wandering around nearby. He supposed he was backup for his two fellow agents, though they didn't really seem to need any backing up from him at all. He was getting seriously bored, not to mention discouraged by being relegated to a supporting role in this case. It occurred to him that he'd really gotten used to being in the thick of things, and this change of routine left him feeling uncomfortably useless.

To cheer himself up, he’d been touring the park a couple of times a day. He'd seen all of the shows by now, and he usually stopped by to watch the sea lion and otter show after lunch. There were two sets of sea lions that performed, but the otter was in all of the shows. There was also a big walrus whose area was next to the arena the sea lion show was in. His trainer had worked out a short routine with the walrus that they performed for the waiting crowd. The walrus was a steady performer, but he was slow. His final trick was to spray a mouth full of water in a huge cloud of mist on the 'unsuspecting' trainer.

Darien stopped by everyday at feeding time and gave Wally the walrus a big handful of his favorite food, purchased from the fish stand provided for the tourists. Darien learned from talking with his trainer that walruses were not usually used for shows, or captured for exhibit. Wally had been injured and then rehabilitated, but he wasn't at 100 percent, so they had decided he couldn't be released back into the wild.

"This case is going nowhere, fast," Darien complained, dropping the Quicksilver as soon as he was in the van. He and Hobbes had arranged to meet after work that evening in the employee parking lot so they could discuss anything they'd found out. Which, for him, was zip. He'd spent most of the third day watching the crowds in the park, just for variety's sake.

"Undercover ops take time, partner. Sometimes they can take months." Bobby exchanged his uniform shirt for a fresh polo shirt. He kept a change of clothes in the back of the van, obviously hating to wear the monkey-suit longer than necessary.

"Months? There can't be enough volume being moved here to justify that long an investigation," Darien turned to look at his partner from his perch in the passenger seat.

"I don't know about that. Just because truck loads of contraband aren't being transported through the park doesn't mean this isn't an operation that needs to be shut down," Hobbes commented as he climbed into the front of the van and took his place in the drivers’ seat, starting Golda.

"Alex was supposed to contact me with the names of the people she wanted me to check out, but I haven't heard anything from her," Darien reminded his friend.

"Monroe has only been inside for a couple days. Give her some time, pal. IDing suspects isn't like goin' to the grocery store, Fawkes. You can't just walk down the aisle and pull 'em off the shelves and call it a day." He turned his head to eye Darien curiously. "What are you griping about anyway, this is an easy gig for you. It's a nice place to hang out during the day; you aren't all cooped up in a car with a set of binoculars in the freezing cold, or anything."

Darien was about to protest this statement, then realized Bobby was right. "Yeah, but it's boring," he admitted sheepishly.

"Is it as boring as prison?" Bobby asked him sarcastically. "Would you just forget about that for now? I'm starving. What do you want to eat?"

Darien gave that some honest thought, and rattled off a list of all his favorite burger joints in the area as they rolled out the driveway and onto the street.

"What, burgers, again?" Hobbes shook his head in mock dismay.

"Hey, you asked. And I need food now, Hobbesy. I was invisible for almost 20 minutes waitin' for you in the parking lot. Tomorrow, just call me on my cell when you're heading out, so I don't burn through my inviso-minutes so damned fast, 'kay?"

"Geeze, pal, you're a bottomless pit, these days," Hobbes chuckled, signaling a left turn onto the parkway that lead away from Mission Bay. "I remember back in the day, you could go a whole 2 hours without fuel," he teased.

Darien snorted. "All I can say is, I'll take a double bacon cheese burger and a chocolate shake over a shot of counteragent any day of the week."

Hobbes had to laugh his agreement with that choice. "Just remember to check in with the Keepy tomorrow morning before you hit the park, right?"

"Yes, mom," Darien snarked, and got a gentle cuff to the back of his head for his troubles. He joined his partner's laughter. This was what he'd been missing for the past few days.

The following morning, as Claire was busy typing up her notes for the first set of tests for the day, Darien strolled into the Keep. "Hello, Darien." She smiled up at him from her spot at the computer.

"Hey, Claire, reporting as ordered for today's blood test." He pulled off his coat and took a seat on the administering chair.

"Remarkable. You're here without a fuss? Usually I have to track you down and make Bobby drag you in here kicking and screaming," she teased as she got up and gathered her blood-draw equipment. She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and prepared collection vials she would need.

Darien shrugged. "Let's just say I'm not real keen on the whole barf-o-rama thing I have goin' these days when I go a little too long with the ole' QS." He offered her his arm without complaint. "So what's new with you? Anything going on?" he asked as she tied his arm off with the rubber tubing , then stuck his vein with the needle.

She eyed him warily. "Are you feeling alright, Darien?" she asked, forehead furrowed a bit with concern.

"Yeah, Claire, I'm fine," Darien responded, rather unconvincingly in her book.

She focused on the job at hand for a moment, switching out collection tubes, then went on. "Then why are you looking so pensive today?"

"'Pensive?'" he parroted back at her, complete with dreadful English accent. "Is that like 'a pensive for my thoughts'?"

She scowled. "Stop trying to change the subject. Bad puns notwithstanding, you seem a bit blue today," she persisted.

Darien watched as the second collection tube filled with his blood. That alone was enough to concern Claire. Darien Fawkes, while not squeamish, exactly, didn't usually care to watch his life's blood trickle out of his body.

"Can I ask you something?" he began after another long moment of silence.

"Certainly," she answered quickly, then hesitated and qualified herself. "As long as it isn't classified." She loosened the rubber tie as the second vial. filled, and withdrew the needle, placing a cotton ball over the puncture as she did so. Darien, with the familiarity of long practice, bent his arm over it, holding it in place as he looked up at her.

"Did you say something to the Fat Man lately about my, uh, problems with long-term Quicksilvering?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?" she wanted to know as she labeled the tubes. She placed one in the centrifuge and one in the refrigerator.

"I'm just wondering if that's why he benched me for this mission."

Claire turned to stare at him, then burst into giggles. "Darien Fawkes! You are the worst adrenaline junkie I've ever met in my life! Most people would relish the opportunity to spend a few days, or even weeks, at the local amusement park -- and get paid to do so!"

Darien made a face at her. "You been comparing notes with Hobbesy?" he asked a little peevishly.

"I haven't had to," she laughed. "It's a given. I think you've finally acclimatized to the life of an agent, if all you can do is complain about being left out of the action," she told him. "And for the record, of course I've mentioned your difficulties with sustained invisibility to the Official. I had to if I was going to divert his attention from his... pet project at the Perseus lab so I could remain closer to you until we have an idea why your metabolism seems to have become hyperactive," she said, distaste coloring her mention of the renewed QS gland research the Official had forced her into.

Darien sighed dramatically. "So he's treating me like I'm breakable all of a sudden? I mean, what's up with that? Usually he sends me out to be cannon fodder. I think I've lost more blood getting myself beaten up on the job than you've ever taken with one of your needles," he groused, sitting up so his legs dangled off the chair, swinging above the floor like a small child's.

Claire shook her head, still amused at him. "Consider this your dose of sound medical advice for the day, Darien: Go take a walk in the park. It's been lovely weather the past week. Aren't you out near the ocean? Doesn't sound like that tough an assignment," she teased him. "And say 'hi' to Bobby and Alex for me."

Darien got to his feet and tossed the cotton ball into the trash across the lab. "Fine. Be that way. See if I come to you for sympathy," he whined. "I'm stuck doing lousy backup for the wonder-agents, and all you can do is tell me to suck it up and enjoy the weather."

Claire laughed. "Things are tough all over," she commented. "Don't worry, Darien, I'm sure whatever comes the Agency's way next will have you back in the thick of things."

A hint of a grin twitched on his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Just remember you said that, Keepy. No scary-sounding big words in your reports to the Fat Man, OK? If he's got me on the injured reserves list or something, I want off ASAP."

"OK," she agreed, grinning. "Nothing over two syllables from now on, I promise. Now go. Enjoy your day. After all, you usually spend your free time at places like the Marine Park, don't you?" she reminded. "Consider it one of the occasional perks of your job that for a little while, you get to do it on Agency time."

In spite of the hours he was keeping, and the physical labor he was doing, Hobbes was actually enjoying working undercover at the Marine Park as a groundskeeper. His assignments had so far included planting a new shipment of flowers for the area near the front of the park, assisting in the installation of a cycad grove that included all manner of prehistoric-looking fern-like plants, and of all things, a medicinal herb garden designed to teach the unwitting park visitor about the virtues of the plant world, and why it was important to protect bio-diversity in places like the rainforests and oceans. He hadn't exactly counted on an education on this mission, but knowledge was never wasted. And Bobby Hobbes had a thing for accumulating random bits of information. It was amazing how often it came in handy in his career as an intelligence agent. But that morning, bright and early, Hobbes took a load of fresh mulch up to the high point of the grounds, hoping to use the vantage point to spot anything unusual that might lead him to the perpetrators.

From here, he had an unobstructed view of the entire park, excluding the lee of the grandstands of the various show arenas. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he said softly to himself as he climbed down from the cab of a Park pickup full of wood chips. He lifted a small set of binoculars to his eyes to scan the area below for any movement. Since it was well before opening, the only people who should be on the premises were those employed here.

He and Fawkes had returned to the park the previous night, well after midnight to conduct a little clandestine snooping in the hopes of actually spotting their so-far hypothetical smuggler using the cover of darkness to bring the goods into the park. Hobbes' and Monroe's certainty that it was being done by boat, perhaps one of the speedboats that filled Mission Bay on nice weekends, or even something like an inflatable Zodiac, hadn't been borne out by the evidence, though. He and Darien had waited most of the night in the mid-February chill and the only excitement had been when a wild dolphin had unexpectedly breached within sight of their position. Wan moonlight and the glow of the city silvered the animal and its wake as it played, or hunted, or did whatever it was wild dolphins did in the dark before dawn.

While he might be operating on very little sleep, Hobbes was experienced enough to let his instincts have free rein, and he shoveled his load of redwood bark out of the truck bed while letting his eyes roam over the park grounds. It wasn't even 8:30 a.m, but the various animal handlers were visible from his hill going about their business feeding and cleaning up after their charges. He wondered if Monroe had arrived yet, as he watched two of the park's dolphins cavort in their pool, competing for their breakfast fish by trying to out-perform each other under the eyes of their trainer. From this distance he couldn't tell who the person feeding the animals was, but the hair was blonde, not Monroe's bright auburn, so he doubted it was her.

He shoveled and watched the dolphins play, leaping agilely into the air, speeding madly around the circumference of their tank to gather speed to clear the rope hurdles their trainer raised in front of them.

He kind of enjoyed having his view of the behind-the-scenes life at the park. While he wasn't sure he agreed with keeping intelligent animals in captivity for the entertainment of humans, it was reassuring to know they were well-cared for. He paused for a moment as sweat dripped into his eyes, wiping his forehead with his arm and leaning on his shovel to take a break.

Below, the dolphin pair had beached themselves on the low shelf at one side of their pool, clamoring and begging for the rest of their breakfast, which the trainer delivered with much apparent praise as she sat in the shallow water with them. He was too far away to hear what she said, but clearly, her rapport with the animals was good.

His gaze wandered around the pool, his attention moving on from the dolphins to the system of narrow waterways that joined the habitat pools to the various show arenas, noting the gleam of a large holding pool between the shoreline and the largest of the arenas. That had to be the seawater filtration operation, he realized, recalling his briefing as a new employee of the park five days before. Idly, he watched the intake pipe from the bay pumping vast quantities of bay water into the first of the filtration pools. If he remembered correctly, the three-stage process eliminated the worst of the pollutants in the water, so it could be used by the Park's resident sea life with minimum risk of contamination or infection by parasites, or anything else that could harm them.

All of which was interesting, but didn't get him any closer to figuring out how their supposed smugglers were getting the goods into or out of the park.

He scowled as his cell phone beeped at him, interrupting his train of thought. "Monroe, you in place, yet?" he inquired, recognizing his fellow agent's caller ID code.

"I'm here, Hobbes. Up in the dive tower. You have anything yet?" Alex answered.

"I got nada." Bobby sighed. "What about you? Got anyone targeted yet? As far as I can tell none of the guys in groundskeeping have been here long enough to be involved. Only the man in charge of the department has been here more than six months. I ran a check on his bank account and spending habits so if he's making money smuggling he's not spending it on anything obvious."

"Did you have Darien check out his house?" Alex asked.

"Not yet," Hobbes stifled a yawn. "He's sleeping in. We were staking out the eastern beach last night. Had kindova late night. What about you? Got anyone you want him to do a sneak-and-peek on?"

"I do have one person I want Darien to tail. Friday night is always a good time to meet up with buyers and contacts, so I'll book him for that little job when I see him. I'll check in with you later."

Alex closed her phone and made one last check of the surrounding area, spotting what she assumed was Hobbes up on the low hill in the middle of the park, then climbed down from the tower.

She walked over to the dolphin arena and entered through the side door the trainers used. It was early, even for the trainers, so all the lights were still off in the kitchen area. She turned them on and scanned the room once more, as she had every morning since she'd started her mission. Alex had already poked around in the lockers of the employees in the building on previous days and the only thing even slightly out of place was one joint in one of the ushers' purse.

Alex opened her locker, and had just finished changing into the blue one piece swimsuit that was standard uniform for the female trainers to wear when she heard someone else come in.

"Hey, good morning." Head trainer Julie entered the locker room. "You're certainly here early." She, too, was dressed in the blue one-piece, her outfit completed with long khakis that took the place of the shorts the trainers wore at peak season. Only the trainers who went in the water with the dolphins wore wet suits.

"Hi, Julie. Looks like another beautiful day." Alex assumed the bouncy persona of her cover story's character and smiled sunnily, pulling on her own khakis and a polo shirt embroidered with the park's logo.

"When you're ready I could use a hand getting fish cut up and ready for the day's feeding." Julie put her bag in her locker and grabbed a hair scrunchie to pull her long blonde hair up into a ponytail.

"I'm ready when you are." Alex hopped to her feet perkily, ready for yet another day spent cutting up fish. The things she did for her country.

Darien arrived at the park a bit later than usual, and stopped by to see Wally on his amble through the park.

"Hey, Wally, ole' pal, you're always happy to see me," Darien greeted the animal who waved his tusked head and rumbled. Fawkes chose to take it as a return greeting rather than a request for food, even though he leaned over the walrus pool, waving his fish offering to the large sea mammal.

Wally, who had been sunning himself on his favorite rock, lumbered over to the edge of the pool when he caught sight of the fish and grunted at the man waving the treat at him. He opened his mouth and looked up, rheumy-eyed, in Darien's direction.

"Here ya go, big guy." Darien carefully threw the offered fish towards the open mouth. Wally caught the thrown fish and swallowed it at once, then grunted and asked for more.

"Sorry, big guy, that's all I have," Darien apologized.

Wally moved a flippered foot closer to the waters' edge and grunted louder, twice, as if repetition would clarify his request to the silly human.

"I know you want more, but I don't have any more." Darien showed the walrus his empty hands.

"He's used to getting a bucketful this time of day." A young male trainer stepped up behind where Darien was standing at the side of the walrus pool.

"Oh. Yeah, he does seem to be expecting more fish," Darien moved aside to give the trainer throwing room.

"Would you like to help me with Wally's feeding?" the trainer asked.

"Yeah, sure." Darien took a medium-size fish out of the bucket and tossed it to the waiting walrus.

"You've been one of his regulars the past week. Your kids off for the winter break?" the trainer asked conversationally, handing Darien a fish.

"Uh, yeah," Fawkes mumbled. "Ski-week. Only, the lift tickets are way more than the season pass for the park is, not to mention finding a place to stay at Big Bear that doesn't cost an arm and a leg," he elaborated, falling into the rhythm of the lie, even after being rather out of practice in spinning a con.

"So where are they?" the walrus-keeper asked, tossing Wally another fish.

"Who?" Darien started, then mentally kicked himself. "Oh, the kids. At the seal and otter show. I'm supposed to meet them there when it's over."

Darien divided his attention between the walrus keeper and eavesdropping on the two teenagers watching the feeding from across the tank.

"Man, that is one ugly thing, I'll bet he can't even get any off a girl seal."

"Yo, man, that's a walrus, not a seal, read the sign," the second boy elbowed his friend and pointed to the sign.

"It's still butt-ugly," the first boy asserted as he waved at the walrus and turned to walk on down the path towards the dolphin arena.

"Yeah, like you're so pretty," his buddy needled as he followed.

Darien shook his head at the boys’ exchange and felt bad for his new buddy. "Don't listen to them Wally. You da man, you big lug."

Wally's keeper laughed, and together they finished feeding the big mammal.

Bobby Hobbes was on his second load of wood chips when Darien arrived at the top of the hill for their mid-afternoon rendezvous.

"Hey, partner, you still want to be the one to be working undercover?" Hobbes paused in his shoveling for a second, like he was answering a question from a tourist.

"No thanks, this doesn't look like my kind of assignment," Darien grinned. "You do have one heck of a nice view from up here, though," he added as he surveyed the park laid out below them like a map.

"Yeah," Hobbes agreed as he wiped the sweat off his face with a forearm. "Quite the scenic spot." He went back to shoveling as Darien leaned against the split-rail fence and gazed over the dolphin habitat pools directly down-slope from them.

"I wondered how they got the dolphins from their pools to the arenas. Pretty cool that they have all those connector ducts, or whatever they call 'em, so they can just swim from one to another. Reminds me of those whatchmacallits - Habitrails, I think they were. You know, the ones you put hamsters or mice or gerbils or something in?" Darien commented. "One of my friends as a kid had one, and we had a blast, building all theses maze-tunnels all over his room so his hamster could run all over. We'd send messages by hamster-mail."

Hobbes eyed Darien as he continued shoveling. "Hamsters?" he commented teasingly, tossing another scoop of chips under an azalea bush.

Darien blushed. "So? It wasn't mine," he defended himself. Then thrust out his chin defiantly. "My aunt was allergic, or I'd've had a dog," he added.

Hobbes grinned and kept on shoveling. "My partner. The pet guy," he snickered. Then straightened suddenly, humor morphing to intensity in a split second. "Fawkes. That's it, man," he said sharply, smacking Darien on the shoulder.

It was hard to miss his partner's sudden change of focus, and he followed the look Hobbes cast over the pools and arenas.

"Fawkes... do you think they could be using the dolphins to smuggle the stuff?" Hobbes asked intently. "I remember this movie; it was from a while back... Day of the Dolphin, I think, and they did something like that," he said.

Darien nodded slowly. "Maybe. I wonder if there's a way they could get to the bay from their pools?"

Hobbes' expression intensified as he considered. "They'd have to have help - human help - but if they're being used as mules, that kinda goes without saying," he agreed. "They might be able to get through the treatment pools to the intake pipes that lead to the bay. But it'd have to be while all the treatment plants are shut down, or the dolphins might get hurt."

"So when're they shut down for maintenance?" Darien asked, interest piqued now that some sort of possible lead had finally presented itself.

"I dunno, but I'll sure as hell find out. In the meantime, when you meet up with Monroe after the 4:00 dolphin show, get her to find out if any of the dolphins in this place have ever been trained for that kind of thing," Hobbes directed his partner, taking a vicious chunk out of the endless pile of wood chips that still filled the back of his truck. "It's a long shot, but we haven't come up with anything else, so far," he added as Darien nodded his understanding of the task.

"I'm on it," he agreed. "I hope this thing breaks soon, or I'm gonna be on a first name basis with every employee in this place. The walrus guy knows me on sight, already," he said, sighing.

Hobbes snorted. "Oh, that's real professional, there, Fawkesy," he goaded his partner. "This is supposed to be an undercover mission, remember?"

"Yeah, Hobbes, I DO remember. I'm undercover as a dad whose kids have free run of this place during winter break. OK?"

"Ah, so that's the story you're using, huh?" Hobbes snickered. "So, how many you got?"

"How many what?" Darien asked blankly.

"Kids," Hobbes laughed, and got a dirty look for his trouble. "Speaking of which, there's one kid, name of Yokas, Rick Yokas. Tall, with dark hair. Looks like he could be related to you, daddy-o," Bobby teased. "He works at the main gift shop near the front entrance. I need you to keep an eye on him. See if you can catch him sneaking stuff into his backpack," Bobby explained.

"You want me to follow him because he's shoplifting?" Darien protested.

"No, wise guy, I want you to follow him because any guy that steals from his employer won't be above smuggling." Hobbes shook his head, exasperated. "He's hinky, that kid."

"Hinky. That's Bobby Hobbes' considered professional opinion, is it? OK, OK, anyone else you want me to check on?" Darien nodded pontifically, sarcasm coloring his voice.

Bobby frowned at him. "No, but Alex'll probably have something for you. She'll fill you in when you meet up after the dolphin show."

"Yes, sir," Darien whined, stretching vaguely aching muscles. He hadn't used much Quicksilver to speak of in two days, but he was still feeling dragged out and exhausted, not to mention that the three cheeseburgers and supersized fries, as well as the chocolate malt he'd had at 11:00, when he'd first arrived at the park, were long gone indeed. He chalked it up to his and Hobbes' stakeout the previous night and wondered how his older partner managed to put in such long hours without showing any signs of wear. "Any other words of wisdom for me?" he snarked.

Hobbes cocked an eyebrow, and Darien suddenly felt as though those piercing brandy-colored eyes were focused on him to the exclusion of everything else.

"Yeah. You're lookin' a little peaked, my friend. Get yourself something to eat before you pick up the Yokas kid, OK? Can't have you hitting a brick wall in the middle of a job, can we?" he said, no trace of teasing in his voice, now.

Fawkes paused before responding, reigning in the reflex denial, quelling the urge to yell that he was fine, thanks, from this hill-top. Instead, he nodded obediently, and trudged off to locate his assigned quarry, heading for the gift shop to find Yokas so he'd know him when it came time to shadow him at the end of his shift.

Alex was well on her way to learning all the behind the scenes things she needed to, to be a serious dolphin trainer. Of course, it was all an act, but still. Who knew when someday it might come in handy to be able to gut a fish without flinching? Much less being able to convince intelligent animals to do as she asked. Come to think of it, she had gotten top marks in CTS, which wasn't all that different from animal training. Men were animals, too, after all.

As the crowds filed out of the dolphin show arena, she slipped out from the wings to help collect props and discarded miscellany. As she picked up balls and batons and put them in the bucket she carried, she reviewed what she'd learned so far. She'd not found anything suspicious. Yet. But if the bad guys had evaded detection for months, it was probably going to take more than a few days to find the people behind the smuggling.

"That went well, no missed cues this time," Julie complemented her trainers who had been on stage, as they all circulated, collecting things. In the pool, the dolphins swam playfully, surfacing to flirt and splash any trainer who came close enough to the pool edge to be a target.

"Thanks, chief," Dan nodded to his boss.

"I was thrilled when they did the double jump perfectly," Jena, the blonde trainer, grinned.

"Alex, did you watch closely? That's the way I like for all of the shows to run," Julie informed her trainee.

"It was a great show. I'm sure I'll learn the routines quickly so I can help out a little more," Alex said with noticeably forced confidence. Better to pretend to be very worried about her abilities than to appear over-confident and risk alienating her temporary coworkers.

"Oh, you'll get a handle on things in no time," Jena encouraged her with a friendly pat on the shoulder. It made Alex think of Claire, unaccountably, and she was looking forward to her standing shoe-shopping date with her favorite Agency buddy.

"Thanks, all of you," she smiled with feigned relief. She followed the rest of the trainers into the backstage area and added her collected props to theirs, glancing at her watch. She was slated to meet Fawkes in less than 20 minutes, and needed to get out of here. "Do you guys need any help getting Aeryn and Jet back to their pool?" she asked.

"No, you're off the hook. That's our job," Dan assured her. "'Sides, you must be ready to clock out by now."

Alex glanced around at Jena and Julie for confirmation, and got nods and smiles. She smiled, genuinely, this time, and said her farewells. There was no telling how long it would take her to track down Fawkes, the Agency's wayward son, after all.

Darien lurked around the main souvenir stand, keeping an eye on the Yokas kid.

But the young man was hardly acting like the prime suspect of a possible smuggling ring: the boy was just helping customers with their purchases. Hardly a threat to national security, much less the Marine Park's bottom line. Darien kept a sharp eye out for possible credit card tricks but the kid was on the level as far as that went. Hobbes had told him the kid worked days and got off at six p.m. during the winter holiday, so his shift should be over in less than two hours. Darien moved to the other side of the shop and pretended to be looking at the t-shirt racks.

"Okay people, as soon you're done with your current customer, log out and count your drawers," a woman in a blue vest said officiously, from where she stood behind the checkout area.

"Crap," Darien sighed, and moved out of the store to wait for Yokas. It looked like the kid was getting off earlier than expected, and he was going to be late to meet with Alex, but Hobbes would kill him unpleasantly if he let his subject depart alone. He trailed the boy out of the park to his very old jeep, parked under a light that had flickered on as the sun began to set on the February evening. Darien had parked his car on a distant outside row so he would be close to the exit for tailing purposes. He Quicksilvered once he'd spotted the kid's location and ran to his parked car. He was breathing heavily after only a minor sprint across the lot. He climbed in his car just as the Quicksilver fell away.

Yokas headed towards the exit, taking little note of the posted five-mile-an-hour limit. Darien was forced to drive faster than he'd like in a parking lot full of pedestrians. But they had to slow down at the exit, because the employee lot emptied into the main visitor lot. As luck would have it, there were dozens of cars ahead of them, patrons leaving for the day as the sun set.

Darien managed to maneuver into a good position to follow the jeep and was just pulling out into traffic when his body rebelled. He felt like he was about to pass out. It wasn't until that instant that he recalled he'd neglected to do as Hobbes had told him, and get something to eat. He was dizzy, light-headed, vaguely queasy. The only thing he could come up with was that the brief sprint while Quicksilvered had tipped him over some strange metabolic edge into the new and frightening territory his supposed 'cure' had left him in.

He was panting, mouth watering with nausea as he flipped open his cell phone and dialed the Keeper in desperation.

"Darien, is the something the matter?" Claire's clear accent filled his ear.

"Yeah, something's the matter. The matter is, I think I'm going to pass out," Darien struggled to keep his car in control as his vision began to swim.

"Put your head between your knees," was Claire's urgent advice.

"I'm driving," Darien protested.

"Then pull over!" Claire pleaded, fear audible in her voice, even to his addled brain.

"Can't ...I'm following a suspect," Darien managed as he barely avoided a collision at an intersection, swinging wide into oncoming traffic to clear the jam so as not to lose Yokas. "Do me a favor? I'm s'pozed to meet with Monroe. I'm late. Can you tell her..."

"Darien, you pull over right now!" Claire ordered him, now frantic. "Where are you?"

"Ingraham Street." Darien was keeping his eyes on the jeep, his eyes so crossed he might as well have been looking through a kaleidoscope.

"Please, Darien, pull the car over! I'm sure whomever you're tailing can wait until another time!" So, maybe Claire didn't know much about their current case, but she knew it was about smuggling of one kind or another. It might not be life-threatening, but it was his job, dammit.

While he tended to agree with her willingness to put off his responsibilities, he hated giving into the weakness he was feeling. As Yokas turned another corner and the light turned red after him, Darien shakily gave up and pulled his car over into a fast food parking lot and took the first empty spot he saw, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel, breathing shallowly through his mouth.

"Darien are you still there?" Claire asked, apparently afraid he'd passed out.

"Yeah. I stopped, already. Stop freakin' on me, 'kay, Keepy?" He was feeling extremely ill by now, weak and ravenous. "I think need to eat."

"Darien you stay put. I'll come to you. Where are you now?" Claire asked. Darien tried to ignore her fear.

"Taco Barn, near the intersection with Route eight." Darien answered.

"Hold on, sweetheart, help is coming."

Claire hung up the phone and ran for the door. She raced out to her car and drove, hell-bent for leather, tires squealing out of the parking lot. She paused only briefly at the entrance to 6th Street, cutting off an approaching Volvo.

She just made it through the first light but there was rush hour traffic to contend with. "Come on, you bloody idiots, I'm in a hurry!" she muttered to herself. She was only a few blocks from the highway five onramp, which was the quickest route to where Darien was, alone and in trouble. She changed lanes, edging around a slow moving van, and made the next light, but then got caught behind a double-parked delivery truck.

"Bloody hell, I don't have time for this." Claire hit her horn in frustration, then inched her car into the next lane to move around the truck. She finally made it to the highway where she floored her car, moving to the outside lane and passing cars like they were standing still.

Claire arrived at the Taco Barn eight minutes after Darien's emergency call for help. She pulled to a smoking halt in the parking space next to him and hopped out. He was sitting in his car with the door open, feet on the asphalt, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, eyes closed so that the world would stop spinning. "Hi, Keepy," he managed, opening one eye cautiously. She had her black medical bag in hand and was rummaging in it as she approached at a trot.

"Darien, here, swallow this," Claire ignored his greeting and put a carton of Kefir in his hand. It was still icy from the lab refrigerator, and he gulped it gratefully. "Alright, now this," she added, and handed him a second carton, this time of some highly suspicious-looking liquid about the color of pond scum.

Darien eyed it warily, hoping she wasn't serious. "What's that?" he complained.

"Something I've been working on for just this type of emergency," she told him. "Now drink it," she insisted, taking it from him and holding it to his mouth.

He swallowed several mouthfuls before he turned his head away rebelliously. "That stuff tastes terrible," Darien scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Just let it settle into your system for a minute or two, and you should start feeling better," she reached to take his pulse. It was rapid, slightly erratic, but strong. Abnormally so. He could feel his blood pounding in his eardrums like the big conga drums some of the musicians who haunted Kensington Beach played for the tourists on the pier on the weekends. "And finish the drink, if you please. Doctor's orders."

"Blech," he gagged dramatically, already beginning to feel a bit better as the glucose from the kefir reached his bloodstream. "Not until you tell me what's in it," he refused.

Claire sighed with annoyance and glared at him, the look spoiled by the genuine worry that still lurked in her expression. "Very well, if you must know, it's a special combination of high-quality soy and dairy protein, spirulena, extracts of wheat and barley grass and assorted other green foods."

"It's green, alright," Darien interrupted, his pond scum analogy not too far from the truth, from what it sounded like. "You're making me drink pureed lawn clippings now?"

Claire frowned at him. "Darien, your body appears to be using a tremendous amount of energy, particularly when you Quicksilver. As far as I can tell, it seems to be triggering something like acute hypoglycemia when you over-extend yourself. I've been working on this supplement to try and come up with something you can keep with you at all times, just to prevent this sort of blood sugar crisis," she tutted. "It has all the nutrients you need, trace minerals, vitamins, and a good blend of both simple and complex carbohydrates, so it can fuel you both in the long and short term. And best of all, it's powdered, so all you have to do is add it to bottled water, and you have what amounts to a complete meal in a packet."

"Meal?" he whined. "You call this a meal? I'd much rather eat a half dozen chicken tacos and a supersize orange soda," he informed her and tried to climb out of his car.

Claire planted one hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him back down. "No, you don’t - just stay put for a minute and finish drinking the protein shake. I need to check you out." She opened her bag and pulled out her doctor gear, quickly putting the blood pressure cuff on his arm and pumping it up.

"Come on, Keep, I'm still really hungry," Darien moaned piteously, turning the full force of his large brown eyes on her pleadingly.

Claire ignored the puppy-dog eyes and fitted the stethoscope earpieces into her ears, bending so she could listen to his heart. Methodically, she went over him, and he sipped his slimy green power-drink while trying not to breathe through his nose, so he wouldn't gag on the taste.

When she was finished, she straightened. "Your color is better than it was when I got here," she told him. "But you're still a little clammy, and your pulse is worrisome. However, I think you'll survive. Now drink the rest of that, and I'll let you go inside and get some food," she bribed him, crossing her arms across her chest like an impatient schoolteacher.

Darien drained the drink in one gulp, made another face and offered her the empty carton. "Satisfied?" he asked sarcastically as he levered himself to his feet, only to find Claire's hand on his arm protectively, steadying him.

"Alright, just go slowly. You've been dizzy often enough lately, and I don't expect you’d relish having another bout of it now," she reminded him. Darien didn't bother to tell her he'd still been in his car only because he'd been too unsteady to walk into the Taco Barn. His knees still felt rubbery, but the vertigo was gone, as was the queasiness and the worst of the weakness. Claire on his arm, he led the way to the doors of the Taco Barn, mouth watering at the delicious smells wafting out into the cool evening air.

Ten minutes later, the Keeper watched him finish off his last taco. "Now I feel almost as good as new," Darien said contentedly, patting his concave belly. "But this routine is getting almost as bad as needing to have a shot of counteragent all the time."

"I'm working on the problem, but with my lab equipment still in the process of being replaced, it's taking more time than I'd like," Claire confessed. "However, I'm beginning to think we need to do a full metabolic work up on you. While your blood work consistently comes back normal, it clearly isn't," she sighed. "There's no sign of clinical diabetes symptoms, liver or kidney trouble, or anything else obvious. I'm afraid when this mission is over, I'm going to need to do a whole battery of tests to see if we can't pin down exactly what's causing this reaction. Because it seems to be getting worse."

"I guess I'm just going to have to save the Quicksilver for emergency purposes only, the next few days," he shrugged and sucked the last of his orange soda out of the bottom of his glass. "I gotta get back to the park. I'm way late to meet Monroe," he informed her, food and the green sludge Claire'd made him drink having done wonders for his sense of wellbeing. He got to his feet, Claire jumping up after him.

"I should think not, Darien!" she caught him by the arm. "You need to rest. Let your body recover."

"Nope, I got work to do, Keepy, and I'm feeling way better than I was 20 minutes ago. Besides, you know Bobby's gonna chew me a new one for losing his suspect. The least I can do is show up to meet Monroe. She may have something for me." He paused then, suddenly recalling Hobbes' question regarding whether the dolphins could be the means the smugglers were using to get things into or out of the park. "Oh, crap," he groaned. "Claire, I've gotta talk to Alex. Hobbes has a theory, and she's the best one to find out how plausible it is," he added ruefully. "Man, I've totally blown my part of this so far. Lost the suspect, forgot to ask little Miss Five-Star-A if Hobbesy's onto something, or just bein' his usual paranoid self..."

"That’s why we have cell phones," Claire retorted crisply, fishing hers out of her purse, and punched in Alex Monroe's number. There was a pause as she waited for it to be answered.

"Monroe here. What's up, Claire? Can you make it fast? I'm supposed to be meeting up with Fawkes, but he's late. I don't want to miss him." Even from his place beside Claire, Darien could hear Alex's voice, tinny over the tiny phone.

"Yes, I know, Alex. Actually, that's why I'm calling," Claire answered. "Darien had another incident. This time, more severe than in the past. I'm sending him home, but he insists on talking with you, first," she said primly. "Hold on," she added, handing her phone over to Darien.

"Hey, Monroe, sorry I messed up," he apologized.

"Forget about that. Are you alright?" Monroe asked sharply, and Darien swore he heard worry in her voice.

He smiled slightly. "I'm fine, if you don't count the hangover from the mother of all Big Mac attacks," he joked. "No, really, I'm good. Mostly. Listen, Hobbesy had a thought this afternoon when I talked to him. He wants to know if the dolphins could be being used to smuggle the stuff," he passed along Hobbes' query.

There was a moment of silence as Alex considered this option. "I don't know, Fawkes, but I'll sure see what I can find out," she replied, voice as intent as Hobbes' had been earlier in the day. "If that's what's going on, it's no wonder no one has been able to figure out how the stuff is getting moved," she said keenly. "I'll get back to you as soon as I have something concrete, OK? Now do what Claire tells you, you punk. You're no good to Hobbes or me passed out face down in the dirt."

"Aw, Susie, I didn't know you cared," he teased, knowing full well she did, by this time.

"Damned right, I do," Alex retorted briskly. "And don't you forget it. Now GO HOME!"

"Sheesh! Alright! Alright! You're as bad as Claire!" he complained, not really minding that much. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Same bat time, same bat channel."

"Just call me Cat Woman," Alex replied with a laugh that resembled a purr. "Talk to you tomorrow. And don't forget to call Hobbes, either, or he's going to do his 'partners never bail' song and dance for you again," she added, as she disconnected.

Darien handed Claire back her phone.

"Do you feel well enough to drive?" Claire double-checked. "I want you to follow me back to the lab so I can get a blood sample from you to compare to the last one I took."

"Yeah. Just don't pretend you're Hobbes on the drive back and try and beat all the lights," he joked.

"Good; I certainly won't. One Bobby Hobbes is quite enough," she smiled and walked with him to their cars, telling him she'd done enough dangerous driving on the way over to last her quite some time.

"Damn, partner, I'm sorry you had to call in the Keeper for back up," Hobbes said later that evening as he let himself into Darien's studio and dropped his jacket on one of the bar stools along the kitchen counter. "I don't like you bein' out there in trouble while I'm shovelin' mulch," Bobby apologized.

"Believe me, I wish you had been there. But it's not your fault, Bobby," Darien shrugged. "You on your way home for the night? Want some pizza or something?"

Hobbes shook his head in the negative. "Nah, just stopping by on my way back to the Agency. Monroe said she'd meet up with me at the McKinley building at eight," Bobby informed his partner.

Darien nodded. "I feel crummy about losing the tail on your kid, the shoplifter," he apologized in his turn, eyeing his partner over the back of the sofa on which he sat. "I can try and pick him up again tomorrow," he added. "I told Alex what happened, oh, and about the dolphin thing you came up with, and she said she'd look into it. I don't know if she'll have anything this soon, though."

Hobbes nodded slightly. "Well, if she does, great. In the meantime, we'll brief the Fat Man and call it a night, with a little luck." He yawned cavernously. "Gotta get some sleep, tonight," he said as he stretched wearily.

"Hobbes?" Darien started, then stopped, gaze drifting off past his partner to the window, through which the waning moon could be seen hanging over the street like a dim lantern.

Hobbes studied his friend.

"What are you thinking?" he asked when Darien didn't resume speaking.

"I was just thinking; if I was in the smuggling business, the best time of the month to move stuff would be with just a little sliver of a moon. Or none at all. How far offshore could a scuba diver make it on a tank of air?"

"Not that far, unless he used a SCUBA-Tow. I'm not sure how good a shot the Coast Guard would have of picking that up, though," Hobbes answered. "They use 'em on all sorts of military black ops for infiltrations and stuff. Good thinking, Fawkes," he complimented. "I'll start looking into that while Monroe works on the dolphin angle."

"I think tomorrow night we might need to run a black ops mission of our own," Darien nodded, sure he'd hit on how things were being smuggled through the park.

"Let's see what kind of info Alex comes up with and I'll work on the long-range diver thing before we plan another stakeout, OK, partner? I'll run it by the Official tonight and see how he wants to handle it. You just get some rest, there, partner, and eat an extra pizza or two tonight."

Alex Monroe arrived at the McKinley building right at eight o'clock. She was wearing her undercover trainer's khakis and white polo shirt, but she still managed to look like a woman you didn't want to mess with.

"Hey, Monroe," Hobbes greeted her as he fell into step beside her, elbow bumping hers companionably.

"Hey, Hobbes. You check in with Fawkes?" she asked as she unlocked her office door. It didn't have quite the art deco elegance of her place in the old Harding building, but it was still home, far more so, even, than the loft she lived in, sometimes.

"Yeah. He seems OK. But, man, he's scaring the hell outta me. At least with the whole QSM and counteragent thing, I sorta knew where I stood. But this, geeze. I'm always wondering if I should stop by the closest supermarket and pick up some Gatorade and Power Bars. I feel like I need to check in with him all the time," he admitted sadly, and she nodded.

"I hear that," Alex sighed. "If it matters, I don’t like this any more than you do. Something's wrong. I can only hope Claire gets a handle on it before it reaches critical mass."

"You and me both," Bobby agreed, following her into her office, settling into a chair opposite her desk. "Did you ever find out how far a dolphin could swim in, say four hours?" Hobbes asked tiredly.

"Yes, and no. None of the Park's dolphins have been trained to do long range retrieves like they would have to if smugglers were meeting them offshore and sending things back with them. If they were, though, according to my contact as the Navy's Space and Naval Warfare Systems Center, the range would be about 20 miles," Monroe informed him.

"How do you know this set of dolphins weren't trained without whoever you asked knowing about it?" Bobby asked, suspicious as ever.

"I talked with the Navy trainer who gave me my crash course in dolphin behavior. If anyone would know which animals had gone through their program, Hobbes, I'm thinking it'd be her. She didn't rule out the possibility, though. Depending on what type of training the dolphins have had over the years, it's certainly within their range of abilities and intelligence. The Navy has done a whole lot of long range missions with good success."

"So a dolphin could do it, we just don't know if these two have been trained to do something like that, is that right?" Hobbes asked, still not convinced he'd been wrong.

"That's basically it. After I talked to Fawkes, I snuck back into Julie's office to take a look at the training logs for Jet and Aeryn. There's nothing on the official records that'd make me think they'd had any kind of experience in the open ocean, much less being trained to return on command with a cargo. And it's not like you'd be able to just dump them into the bay the first time without a lot of safeguards to make sure they knew their way around," Alex told him. "But the logs are certainly not the definitive source of information on the animals. I'm going in to talk to the vet tomorrow morning to see what their full medical records have in them. If they came from some kind of military background, their records are going to show that."

Hobbes nodded to himself. "When you find out, let me know, OK? Fawkes and I are planning on doing another stakeout tomorrow night. He's thinking maybe if it isn't the dolphins, it's a diver -- or more than one, using those SCUBA-Tows to get the range they'd need for this kind of operation. So we'll be out there, one way or the other, since the moon's about gone. Fawkes thinks that's when they do it. Just enough light to work by, not so much anyone on the water can see what they're doing."

Alex smiled carnivorously. "You know, I think you've made an agent out of him," she teased. "That's pretty good guesswork on his part."

Hobbes snorted ironically. "No guesswork about it, Monroe," he responded with a bit of smugness. "He's a thief, remember? He's used to night maneuvers."

"So he is," she nodded, the grin unabated. "Let's go brief the Fat Man, so we can get some shut-eye. If I'm going to be up all night tomorrow, I'm going to need to hit the sack at a reasonable hour," she proposed.

"You joinin' us?" Hobbes asked, an eyebrow raised curiously, surprised.

"Hey, I want to see if either of you are right, that's all," she chuckled. "Besides, if you are right, about either the divers or the dolphins, I don't want you out there with Fawkes alone, if he's not up to par. It's not like this place is hip-deep in experienced agents, so we can't afford to lose either of you."

Hobbes grinned. "OK, then, have it your way. But then don't complain to me when you need a wheelbarrow to cart around the bags under your eyes," he snarked comfortably. He and Monroe might never be best friends, but by now, they respected each other, even liked each other, for the most part. And teasing was part of the routine.

"It takes one to know one, Hobbes," she retorted laughing as she got up, and together, they went off to meet with the Official.

The Official held evening court in his office, Eberts-the-faithful at his side, as always. When Hobbes and Monroe sauntered in at 8:15 that night, he was at the end of a very long day spent trying to hold off the latest fiscal assault on the Agency. While they were now the titular owners of the McKinley building, the overhead was not being offset by income to the degree he'd have wished for. Even with office space in down town San Diego at a post-quake premium, the building was old, and not much better maintained than the old Harding building had been. The elevator notwithstanding, they were hardly collecting top dollar in their rents, and a third of the building had yet to be tenanted.

And then there was the latest dispute with the Agency of Sequestered Seclusion. The quarterly stipend they had been paying into the Agency's coffers to ensure that word of their operation didn't leak out had failed to be deposited on schedule this week. He and Eberts had spent the day playing telephone tag with an ASS representative, and listening to hours of musak while on hold. It didn't predispose him towards pleasantries, now.

"Sit," he commanded gruffly.

Hobbes and Monroe did as ordered, and the Official found himself glad Fawkes wasn't there to spout off some dog-training wisecrack.

"Report," he demanded.

The two seasoned agents took turns reporting on their discoveries to date -- or lack of same, but the news that at least they'd managed to come up with a couple of working hypotheses as to how the smugglers were moving their goods cheered him. If his agents could bring this investigation to a successful conclusion, then the remuneration he'd been promised for taking on this backwater, low priority case would just about cover their shortfall for the month.

When they'd finished, requesting and receiving his permission to conduct their stake out at the Marine Park the following night, he dismissed them, watching them depart together with a camaraderie he'd never expected to see develop between the prickly Monroe and the rest of his team.

Eberts caught them at the door before they could make good their escape. "Robert, I need speak to you about the expense report you submitted for your van's oil change, last week," Albert requested as he handed the paperwork to Hobbes.

"Why, so you can give me some new song and dance about how agents are expected to pay for all the maintenance on their vehicles so you can get out of reimbursing me?" he asked sharply, holding the papers like he'd like to shred them with his bare hands.

"Uhm, no, actually, the reimbursement will be on your next paycheck, as long as I can secure you signature on this," Eberts contradicted.

"Oh. I forgot to sign it." Bobby took the folder Eberts offered him and quickly signed his name on the appropriate line. "Thanks, Eberts," he said sheepishly as he handed it back.

"Certainly, Robert," the Official's assistant said demurely, taking the forms.

The Official stifled a grin at the interplay between Hobbes and Eberts. It was a good thing his assistant had the patience of a saint. Training Bobby Hobbes to follow the rules when it came to filing reimbursement paperwork had been a long, uphill battle. It was nice to see that the effort might be starting to pay off.

He was proud of his agents and how they'd handled themselves during the earthquake. He spent so much of his time worrying about keeping the Agency in funds that he didn't often think about their personal lives. Hobbes had worked for him for nearly five years, but other than his past break-up with his wife and the one case they had worked in New York, Hobbes didn't seem to have a personal life. And it wasn't possible for Darien to have attachments while he had the gland in his skull. The security clearance needed by prospective love interests effectively prohibited any search by Fawkes for feminine companionship. Besides, he was still grieving the loss of his brother.

Claire was all work and no play, from what he'd been able to determine, and Eberts had a quiet home life with his pet turtle and video games. Although he suspected Albert did visit a particular young lady from time to time. As far as he knew, Alex just used men for her own satisfaction these days, and she knew how to keep her personal life out of her professional life. Except of course for James. But that was a matter best left alone.

The Official had once thought that Darien might be more easily controlled if he had a romantic relationship with Claire, but that development had never taken place. Then when Alex forced her way into the Agency for her own reasons, she'd been another possible romantic attachment for Darien, however, she too had seemed uninterested. He'd had tried to 'suggest' to her that it would be good for the Agency if she would 'see' Darien, but she had flatly refused. Now that she worked out on loan as often as she worked in-house, it was probably a good thing she'd ignored him.

"Sir, if you’re ready, I'll assist you to your car," Eberts offered.

"Thank you, Eberts. Yes, it's been a long, long day." The Official got to his feet, reaching for the silver-knobbed walking stick he now used to ease some of the stress on his damaged knee. Eberts had already regained full mobility after his gunshot wound to the thigh several months before, but the Official was finding that at his age, aches and pains didn't heal as quickly as they once had.

Early the next morning, Hobbes swung by the Keep to grill Claire on Darien's condition, not having taken Fawkes' word for it that he was 'fine, dammit!' the night before. "You're sure it's alright for him to be on his own right now?" Bobby asked her, worry sharpening his voice. He was running late and still needed to stop by Eberts' office to pick up the background checks he'd had the Official's lapdog run, so he was more brusque than he meant to be with the pretty blonde doctor.

"Yes, if you and Alex will stop sending him off on errands that could be done by any competent junior agent," Claire responded snippily. "Darien doesn't have to use his invisibility every case he works on," she warned. "His body is reacting to the gland differently than before. If he uses the Quicksilver for more than a short while, we end up with an incident like the one last evening."

"I know that, but is it safe for me to be undercover and for him to be alone?" Bobby rephrased his question.

"Yes," she repeated herself, "if he doesn't use the Quicksilver for a few days."

"Then why can't you keep him here for the day, if he might have another spell?" Hobbes suggested, his worry not relieved in the slightest.

"Because he hates it in the Keep. He'll be much more relaxed out there with you. It isn't a difficult case from what I've heard. Indeed, as I told Darien when he whinged to me about boredom the other day, it's not unlike what he'd spend his day off doing, normally. So I fail to see the difference if he actually works this case in his current capacity, as opposed to giving him a day off, where he'll just go to some other amusement park, most likely," she replied, exasperated.

Hobbes fidgeted as he mulled this over, forced, however reluctantly, to agree. "Alright, so you're probably right... but figure this out fast will ya, Keepy? I got used to him being healthy," Hobbes nearly pleaded with her.

Darien strolled around the park watching the tourists, scoping out the chicks from behind his sunglasses. He wondered if it was worth checking in with Bobby, since there wasn't much happening that hadn't happened every day he'd spent at the park so far, but decided he'd better, or his partner would likely track him down and do a full physical on him right in front of every tourist in the place. Which wouldn't do much for their respective covers, or their mission, he suspected.

He dug out his cell phone and dialed Hobbes. "Hey, Hobbesy, how's the life of a manual laborer today, huh?" he greeted him.

"Why don't you go catch a nap, since we're going to be up late tonight staking out the dolphins," Hobbes suggested, ignoring the greeting in favor of an attack of mother-henishness.

"No," Darien rejected the idea. "I don't want to leave you here with out backup."

"Did you at least see the Keeper this morning?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, I saw her. It's almost as bad as when I needed the counteragent," he complained.

"It's not that bad, you can give yourself the cure. Or you can prevent it from even happening if you just don't over-use the stuff," Hobbes lowered his voice conspiratorially.

"For now, I can... but what if it gets worse?" Darien griped.

"It won't," Hobbes' voice was reassuringly firm. "The Keeper is going to figure it all out any day now. I have faith in Claire," he said and Darien could hear the metallic squeak of garden clippers in the background.

"So do I, it's just... " Darien trailed off. "Can't I just come hang with you?" he asked, changing the subject, feeling the need for a friendly face.

"Not a good idea, my friend. We're on a mission, remember? Why don't you go watch that show you like? It starts pretty soon doesn't it?" Bobby suggested.

Darien sighed. "I've only seen it like eight times this week already, Hobbes," he groused.

"Then go take a nap. Eat something. Preferably both. I need you primed and ready for action tonight, partner," Hobbes reminded, impatiently. "It's gonna be a long night, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. Sheesh. OK, I'll go watch the show one more time, just to make you happy, alright? I'll catch you later." Darien sighed as he hung up and walked off towards the sea lion and otter show, feeling unaccountably forlorn.

A sandy-haired, plain-looking woman in her 40s was cheerfully seating all the guests entering the arena on her side of the bleachers, and Darien nodded at her familiarly. He'd seen her at all the various shows in the Park, by now. Her schedule seemed to send her from arena to arena, depending on the time of day. He'd seen her at the dolphin show in the morning, the water-ski show at around lunchtime, and the sea lion show mid-afternoon. It wasn't until she smiled back with a friendly wave, that he realized he'd developed quite the little routine since they'd started this mission.

Darien took a seat in the arena well back from the waterline; he didn't want to get wet if the cast decided the crowd looked bored and signaled the animals to wake them up. The music changed from the Beach Boys tune that played during the pre-show warm-up to music from a recent motion picture, Master and Commander.

Then a trainer/actor in a 'pirate' costume walked on stage wearing black pants with knee-high boots, a striped shirt and a tricorn hat. He was very tall, with dark hair, swarthy skin, and a beard that was patently fake. He loped once around the stage in front of the cheerful crowd, waving his stage sword with a dramatic flourish.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Pirate's Cove! Today's adventure takes us back to days of yesteryear, when three-masted sailing ships traveled the globe in search of treasure." The words were the cue for the second man that joined him on stage.

The second man was shorter than the first guy, with pale brown hair and an earnest face. He kind of reminded Darien of Eberts. Hardly piratical, in other words.

"Captain, we're being boarded! What should we do?" the 'first mate' yelled as a sea lion wearing a bandana and carrying a toy sword in his mouth hustled on stage behind him. The animal climbed up on his stand and waved his sword at the first mate.

The first mate backed away from the sea lion with the sword in mock fright, and a second sea lion appeared from behind stage barking as he took his place on a stand beside the first, positioned next to the 'mast' of the imaginary ship. The sea lion stepped on a lever that raised a Jolly Roger flag, which flapped raggedly over the stage.

The crowd clapped for the pirate crew enthusiastically. 'It was a good crowd for a change,' Darien thought as he settled back, watching the now-familiar act play out.

"Steady there, first mate, maybe we can negotiate," the captain-host calmed his sidekick. "What are your demands, you scurvy knaves?"

Both sea lions started barking at the same time, making a lot of noise. Then the second sea lion advanced towards the actors, waving its head menacingly, and the sword-carrying sea lion tossed its weapon to its companion, who caught it dramatically and advanced on the two actors.

"He doesn't want to negotiate, Captain," the Eberts-impersonator observed hesitantly, as he ducked behind the 'captain' timidly.

Darien sucked some more of the Icee he'd bought before the show began through his straw, giving himself brain-freeze, and nearly choking with laughter as an otter rushed onstage wearing a small striped shirt like the captain and first mate. It ran over to a small cannon and pulled the string that set it off, and it made a popping sound as a flag like one on a mailbox popped up, 'BOOM!' written on it just like in a Looney Tunes cartoon.

"The crew is fighting back, look!" the captain pointed jubilantly towards the otter manning the cannon. The second sea lion covered his eyes with a flipper as if scared, while the first rushed off its stand and dove over the side of the 'ship' and into the pool with a splash.

"Look, mateys, they're running," the captain exclaimed, pointed to the departing sea lion. "Quick! Raise the main sail, and we can escape!" the captain ordered. The otter ran to the mast with the first mate and they both raised the main sail. While everyone's attention was on the sail, the sea lion that had jumped overboard climbed back onto the stage from the water and joined the second sea lion in stealing a 'treasure' chest from the deck.

"That was a close call, Captain," the first mate said, wiping his brow with a forearm for just the right touch of melodrama. Just as the two pirate sea lions were about to escape with the treasure, a red macaw screeched and flew down from his place on the mast's boom, landing on the captain's shoulder.

"What's wrong, matey? The pirates are gone," the captain assured his feathered crewman, oblivious to the two thieves making off with the booty behind his back. The macaw screeched again and bobbed his head at the pirates. The captain spun on one high heel and the macaw took off, landing on top of the cannon to watch, as the first mate pointed at the pair of pirates.

"Avast, there, you scalawags, stop where you are, or it's Davy Jones' locker for you," the captain yelled, pointing his sword at the sea lions.

The two sea lions stopped pushing the treasure towards the water and each lifted a flipper in surrender.

"I think it's time to make these pirates walk the plank, first mate." The captain motioned for his crew to move the plank that lay onstage over the side of the ship, the otter pretending to help push the plank to the edge of the pool. When it was in place, the otter scrambled up into its miniature crow's nest beside the mast, to watch the pirates get their punishment.

The macaw flew up to his place on the top of the crow's nest and squawked loudly in mock laughter as the first mate made the two pirates walk the plank. The first sea lion hung its head forlornly in repentance for his 'sins' and dove into the pool without a fuss.

"He took his punishment like a man," the captain approved as he peered over the side at the vanished culprit.

The second sea lion, though, shook its head stubbornly, even as the first mate poked it gently with the faux sword to urge it down the plank. The audience laughed and cheered the last pirate on, the enthusiasm growing with every reluctant step the sea lion took towards its watery 'doom'.

"Do you have any last requests pirate?" the captain inquired of the sea lion. It nodded. "What is your last request?" he asked magnanimously.

The sea lion barked imploringly.

"What is that you say?" the captain asked, as if not believing his ears. The animal barked again.

"He says he wants to sing a song," the first mate translated.

"I hate singing!" The captain shook his head in annoyance.

"But captain, you have to grant a dying man his last request," the first mate reminded him. "It's the law of the sea."

With a long-suffering sigh, the captain turned back to the sea lion. "What song do you want, then?"

In answer, the Beach Boy's tune, Barbara Ann, came pounding through the loudspeakers. The first mate led the audience in singing the song. He had a very good singing voice, a clear tenor. If it could have been heard over the enthusiastic and off key singing by the audience, it might have made it bearable. But as it was, the "- Ba, ba, ba, ba-ba-er-ann. Ba, ba, ba, ba-ba-er-ann -" of the chorus and the barking of the sea lion was just basically white noise. However, it covered the animal's 'escape' as the ship's crew, distracted with the singing, missed his scurry across the stage.

Again the scarlet macaw screeched and warned the captain that the pirate was escaping. But this time they had to chase him across the deck, only to lose him as he jumped overboard with a great big splash.

"He's gone, Captain," the first mate looked over the side of the ship.

"That's what happens to pirates, me hearty; a watery grave. Raise the flag! It's time to sail for home."

With that, the otter rushed over to the flagpole and the Jolly Roger fell away and the red, white and blue of the American flag unfurled in the wind.

Surfing USA started to play over the sound system and the show came to an end, the audience singing along to the song as they filed out of the arena, Fawkes among them.

Darien felt silly about this being his favorite show, because of the childish plot and simple tricks the animals performed. But the actors seem to be having fun with it and the sea lions also seem to be enjoying performing for the audience.

Alex headed from the vet's offices, where she'd had a most interesting discussion with Douglas Pinchot, DVM, about the history of each of the two dolphins. Aeryn was the older of the two, at the age of 14, and had been wild-caught as a two-year-old. She had, indeed, been trained by the military, at the same facility where Alex had had her crash course. Only it was well before Karen's time, which explained why she hadn't remembered the animal.

Eight year-old Jet, on the other hand, had been born in the park, and paired with Aeryn as a young animal. She'd been used as a mentor for him, helping to teach him the routines. Which meant that, if dolphins were as smart as she'd been told, then it was more than possible that the older dolphin could have taught the younger a few extracurricular tricks.

Doc Pinchot had promised to try and track down which of the Park's trainers -- dolphin or otherwise -- were privy to that information, though she'd had to confess her status as an undercover law-enforcement agent to him to justify making the request. That alone should give them a good idea just who on the premises had the information and the ability to use the dolphins as smugglers. It looked like there was more than a slight possibility that Hobbes' instincts were right once again.

She made her way to the dolphin pool to find the whole team there.

"Alex, I'm glad you're here," Julie greeted her. "I wanted to show you a new behavior we've been working on with Jet and Aeryn." She waved Alex over to the edge of the dolphin pool and called the female up on to the edge. The dolphin swam up onto the lower end of the pool and pushed forward with her tail until half of her body was out of the water.

"This is a harness we might have to use to help us lift a injured animal out of the pool," Julie told her as she laid out the nylon strapping so that it could easily be fastened around the dolphin. "We've been using them for years as part of the training, where we yolk the younger animal to the more experienced one using these harnesses, so that the 'teacher' dolphin can help guide the newbie through the basics of the routines."

Alex perked up her ears, figuratively, at this revelation: so both the dolphins were accustomed to wearing gear? That was another large point in favor of Hobbes' theory. "What about jumps and other airborne behaviors?" she asked, wondering how such a thing would work.

Julie laughed. "Oh, we don't use it for that. That sort of behavior doesn't happen 'til much further along in the training routine. No, the harnesses are basically like leashing a dog. It just allows the older dolphin to control the younger one, until the young animal knows that when the trainers are with them, school's in session, and they need to pay attention. We also want them comfortable with the harnesses, because if one of them is sick or injured, we use it to help hoist them out of the water. The slings we used to use were hard to control, and they frightened the animals because of the unfamiliarity."

Alex nodded, interested in all this for reasons that went well beyond the ones she was supposedly hired for. "So this is a refresher course in wearing the harnesses?" she asked.

"Yes, more or less. We try and do this at least once a month so that if there's ever an emergency, they won't have forgotten what it feels like to wear them in the interim." Julie showed Alex how to slip the nylon harness around the dolphins' head, then pass the straps past the dorsal fin and pull the pair of straps for the middle of their body. Aeryn allowed them to fasten her into the harness and then slipped back into the pool with it on.

"That's good, she doesn't mind wearing it." Julie grinned. "We just have to leave it on her for a few minutes and then give Jet a turn."

Alex watched the two dolphins swim playfully around the pool, Aeryn totally ignoring the wardrobe she acquired in favor of racing with Jet in ever-faster circles around the pool. Then they breached with perfect coordination and splashed down side by side to douse the laughing trainers. She shared the dolphin-humor, not minding the unexpected chill of the cold water. If Hobbes was right, then hopefully, her days as a dolphin trainer would be numbered. She grinned back at the other trainers, wondering which, if any of them, was involved.

This was a positive enough development that she knew she'd be returning after her shift and before her rendezvous with Hobbes and Fawkes to add her own little ornament to the harnesses the animals wore. It appeared her luck had changed for the better...

"You don't have to go with us, Fawkes, Monroe and I can handle this," Bobby said that night, trying to get Darien to stay with the van.

"I'm fine, Bobby, you heard Claire. As long as I don't stay Quicksilvered for a long stretch of time, I won't be doing a face-plant into the deep blue or anything. Will ya just stop worrying?" Darien insisted. "I'm coming with you. End of debate."

Naturally, Hobbes wouldn't let it rest, continuing to try and persuade Fawkes to stay ashore while he and Alex handled the more problematic part of the stakeout. Even the reasonable argument that they should have someone onshore in case the perpetrators made an appearance on the beach didn't change Darien's mind. He was going, period. If this was going to be the payoff for a week-plus of boredom, heck if he was going to be left sitting under a beach umbrella with the 98 pound weaklings. As long as he drank one of Claire's god-awful shakes before they headed out, he'd be fueled up, and there wasn't likely to be much reason for him to go invisible, so therefore, there was no reason for Hobbes' concern.

When Alex arrived at their staging area on the beach just outside the Marine Park, they discovered she had managed to wangle them an inflatable boat with a small motor. Her contacts in other agencies always seemed conveniently ready to lend her equipment. Along with the boat, there were two wet suits, three sets of flippers, masks and assorted other equipment Darien didn't take time to poke through right then. Hobbes unconcernedly stripped down to his swim trunks and struggled into the two-piece wet suit Alex handed him, while Monroe removed her street clothes to reveal the wet suit she already wore, complete with neon orange decorations at the cuffs and squiggly racing stripes down the sides.

"Darien, you'd better put your wet suit on," Alex commented, eyeing the jeans and dark shirt he was wearing disapprovingly.

"I was just going to stay in the boat if you guys had to get wet," Darien joked.

"No, I don't think so. Claire'll kill us if we don't take care of you. The water's cold this time of year. If you go overboard, you're going to be hypothermic in minutes. Put this on," she pulled the last of the wet suits out of her borrowed truck.

Darien sighed and moved to the other side of the van, quickly shedding his clothes so he could pull on the borrowed wet suit. It was even the correct size: extra-tall. He was struggling to get the top up and his arms in when Hobbes joined him. "Now that's more like it," he smirked, teeth gleaming in the darkness. "Every superhero needs a costume. If we can't get you into tights, this outfit will do. Want some help, there, stretch?" he chuckled.

Darien managed to get his other shoulder and arm into the rubbery suit and zipped it most of the way up his chest. But he'd noticed neither Hobbes nor Alex had zippered their suits all the way to the neck, yet. He glanced down and saw that the suit Alex had borrowed for him had an electric blue stripe running from ankle to wrist on the sides, and a curved stripe across the chest that arched from his bottom rib to pecs then back down the other side. "I do kind of look like I'm in costume," he admitted ruefully, eyeing his partner's get-up.

Bobby's wet suit was in two pieces; the bottom had a leg stripe but the top half only had a brand name logo on the chest. "So does that make you my sidekick?" he prodded Hobbes in the chest with a grin.

Hobbes snorted. "Sidekick, my great aunt Matilda. Bobby Hobbes is NO one's sidekick, pal. Or had you forgotten that?" Still joking around, together they walked back around the van to help Alex with the small inflatable boat. The two men hooked up the outboard engine to the back of the already inflated Bombard, locked up the van while Alex stowed her gear, and then all three of them carried the boat down to the water's edge.

There was a low group of boulders near their location, so they took up a watch towards the shoreline south towards the Mission Bay Marine Park property. Alex had a small set of infrared nightscopes, through which she was checking for any sign of activity. Hobbes had his old army surplus set of night vision goggles and Darien was left with only unaided vision. Not that there was much to see.

The mid-winter night was peaceful, if chilly, and Darien wished he had left his socks on. His bare feet were getting cold.

When Alex's cell phone chirped, both Hobbes and Fawkes nearly jumped out of their skins. Monroe dug it out of her duffel bag and flipped it open. "Yeah, you in position?" she asked, ignoring the affronted expression on Hobbes' face.

"Yeah, Reynolds. We're good to go. When we give the signal, move in and apprehend anyone in the area," she ordered. "How big a team did you round up?" She listened to the response, grinning. "Excellent. Well, let's hope our intel is right, and this is the night. I'm ready to wrap this case up," she told the person on the other end, then disconnected. She put the cell phone away and turned to find Hobbes and Fawkes both eyeing her accusingly.

"Looks like you forgot to let us in on some of the other stuff you 'borrowed'," Hobbes said, voice stiff. "Who's Reynolds?"

"Agent Toby Reynolds and his team from ATF. He owed me a favor, and I called it in," she explained shortly.

"This is our case, Monroe," Hobbes warned. "The Fat Man know you're scuttling whatever money deal he made by dragging in outside help?"

"Stop with the macho posturing, Bobby," she grinned. "Toby isn't going to cost the Official a dime. And I got some new intel today while I was on-shift in the park that made me pretty sure you're onto something with this dolphin-thing you came up with." She paused, looking from one to the other, waiting to see if they would hear her out. "You interested in hearing what it was?" she asked archly.

Darien glanced at Bobby, willing to take his cue from Hobbes. It was just so typical of Monroe to act on her own without letting any of her supposed partners in on what she was doing.

"Spill it, already," Hobbes said with what Darien considered to be admirable restraint.

Monroe proceeded to relate her encounter with the dolphin harnesses and the information Doc Pinchot had dug up, which went a long way to explaining why she'd acted preemptively. "And the icing on the cake?" she teased, looking from one to the other. "The sea water treatment plant is down for routine maintenance tonight."

Darien returned the grin as Hobbes replied. "Well, OK, I guess," Bobby sulked slightly. "But why'd you want to bring the ATF in on it?"

"Hobbes, stop complaining. I knew Darien wouldn't stay here, and we need someone on shore to keep an eye on this end of the smuggling chain so we don't end up losing the humans involved just because we're all focused on the dolphins as our smugglers," Monroe reminded.

"OK, OK, you're right. When you're right, you're right," Hobbes conceded apologetically.

"Are we done whining?" she asked sarcastically, the grin she tossed their way taking the sting out of it.

"Yeah, yeah, let's get this show on the road already," Darien suggested, taking hold of the boat and heaving it towards the bay lapping gently at the sand in the dim light of the city across the water. The other two lent their muscle to it, and in seconds, the boat was afloat, and all three of them climbed aboard, Hobbes taking charge of the outboard.

"Alex, how long would it take a dolphin to swim out to a boat offshore?" Darien asked over the noise of the engine as they headed to the spot they'd chosen as their vantage place.

"Well it does depend on how far offshore we're talking about, but if you figure it's probably about eight miles out to avoid the worst of the Coast Guard patrols, so that would take a little over an hour out and a little longer back." Alex lowered her night glasses to answer him.

"So if there isn't anything happening by three a.m. then we picked the wrong night?" Darien queried.

"Yeah," Hobbes agreed. "I think they'd want the pickup to happen about an hour before dawn, so the perp in the Park would be on scene when the dolphins came back," Bobby added, "But it could be any time between now and then."

Darien nodded and turned his attention back to the receding beach, wondering if they'd be able to spot the dolphins if and when they made their midnight swim.

It was almost 2 a.m., and the dolphins were becoming agitated in their pool. They knew they would be going out into the ocean again and were eager to leave. Jet was swimming in circles and leaping from the water every time he made an entire trip around the pool. Aeryn was swimming back and forth in the water nearest the door the trainers came out of when it was feeding time. A woman stepped out from the side door carrying the harnesses the dolphins had just practiced using that morning.

"Hey, guys I have another little job for you." The woman motioned for the male dolphin to move up onto the lip of the pool and quickly fastened him into his harness, then gave him a fish. She repeated the process with Aeryn, then, using her whistle and a special hand signal, she opened a gate to the mixing tank where water that came in from the ocean was treated before it was used in the various exhibit pools. Then once the dolphins were in the mixing area, she opened yet another gate that led from the treatment tank to the ocean. Jet and Aeryn were familiar with the routine and swam down the intake pipe into the bay, heading straight for the open ocean, surfacing only every 30 seconds or so for a breath of air as they navigated down the inlet towards the mouth of the bay.

The woman smiled as she watched the two dolphins swimming towards the horizon from her vantage point at the top of the water treatment tank. She lifted a cell phone to her ear and spoke into it: "They're on the way."

It was just past 2 a.m., and Alex was watching and waiting along with her companions, seriously beginning to wonder if this was a waste of time after all. The gentle rocking of the inflatable boat had caused Fawkes to slip into a light doze, but Hobbes was as alert as she was, and probably equally frustrated.

When the receiver from the tracking device she'd hooked to Jet's and Aeryn's harnesses began to beep softly, though, all thoughts of failure vanished. "Bingo," she whispered as she pulled the receiver out of the duffel and peered at the dimly illuminated LCD screen.

Hobbes nearly capsized the boat as he scrambled over to her side, waking Darien, who startled, then glared angrily at them both. "Sheesh, scare a guy to death," he grumbled, running his hands through his hair so it stuck up in all directions. "What's going on?" he asked sleepily.

"Alex, which way are they headed?" Bobby demanded as he pull-started the outboard, letting it idle until she could give them the heading.

"Due west, and they're really moving. They'll be out of the bay in less than five minutes at this rate," Alex told them, and Hobbes gave the engine some gas and moved them towards the buoys the marked the channel out of the bay.

The small boat began to bounce as it skimmed more rapidly over the small waves as they traveled on after their elusive quarry. Darien still hadn't spotted the dolphins, and Bobby was trying to find them with his binoculars while steering one-handed as Alex checked her tracking receiver.

"We're right behind them, about 500 yards," Alex said. "I don't want to get any closer, or we may throw them off. Do either of you see any sign of a boat?" she asked the two men.

"Not yet, but once we spot it we're going to have to circle around and come in from the other direction or they'll spot us," Hobbes reminded her needlessly.

"I see them," Darien shouted over the noise of the engine and the slap of the waves on the rubber hull of the boat, feeling a twinge of excitement that he'd located the dolphins.

"Good," Alex shouted back. "I'll concentrate on their GPS position, you keep them in visual range," she instructed.

They followed along behind the pair of dolphins, bouncing through the waves for nearly half an hour, when Bobby abruptly slowed the boat, the engine noise dying to a dull throb. He leaned closer to Alex and spoke as quietly as he could and still be heard. "There's a boat up ahead, Monroe. We'd better hang back for a minute, see if it's our target."

Alex nodded, and Bobby slowed them until they drifted a few hundred yards away from the fishing trawler that was anchored silently, engine off, in the middle of apparently nowhere. Darien kept a watch on the dolphins, easily keeping track of them by the white glow of their wake. Once or twice, as they neared the boat, they even leapt clear of the water in visible good spirits. "They're headed straight for that boat," he confirmed Bobby's hunch.

"OK, we're on, people," Monroe said, pulling her sidearm from her duffel and checking the clip, then tossing Hobbes his own gun.

Darien took over the rudder, Hobbes moving past him to join Monroe in the prow of the boat. "We're gonna need to get closer, Alex," Bobby pointed out. "They're likely to be waiting for the dolphins, so if we stay out of the line of sight, we should be able to get the drop on them."

She nodded her approval, and Darien steered the boat in a distant arc around the front of the fishing vessel, figuring that whoever was onboard her would most likely be in the rear. He went slowly, avoiding revving their little outboard and keeping their speed down so they wouldn't display the same wake that had given away the dolphins.

"OK, once the people on the boat give the stuff to the dolphins, we'll move in. Don't worry about the animals, they're pretty sure to head back to Mission Bay. It's not like they haven't done this more than once," Alex said. "Oh, and Hobbes? Try not to kill them; we want them alive."

Now that Darien had gotten them around to the other side of the vessel, he realized the tide must be coming in, so the current was taking them right to the fishing boat even without the help of the outboard. He cranked it way down, so it was barely idling, and as they neared their goal, shut it off all together, letting the seas take them right up to the weathered side of the bigger boat.

Even seated in the inflatable, Darien was tall enough to see the two men in the back of the trawler. And they were perfectly audible even over the slap of waves on the wooden hull.

"Here they come," the older man pointed towards the two dolphins, who swam up to the low swim-step at the stern of the boat, heads out of the water, chattering happily in greeting.

"Just like clockwork," the other replied, making no effort to keep his voice down. "I wish we would've thought of this years ago," he grinned, scratching his head under the ratty captain's cap. He snatched a handful of fish out of the bucket on the railing and leaned down over the transom to reward the pair with a couple of fish each. Then he fastened a small waterproof package to each of their harnesses and gave a signal and a whistle. The pair of animals leapt away, speeding back the way they'd come.

"That's our cue," Alex whispered to Fawkes and Hobbes, tossing the inflatable's bowline over a stanchion on the rail of the trawler and calling out; "Federal Agents! You’re all under arrest."

Hobbes was halfway aboard, his Colt pointed at the captain, who'd bolted for the wheel as soon as he'd heard them.

"Damn it, Hank, get us out of here!" the older man yelled and tried to prevent Bobby from climbing on board by clubbing at his hands with a gaff.

Hobbes managed to avoid the blow and swung into the trawler, landing in a crouch, and behind him, Alex clambered aboard on his heels as the captain gunned the powerful engine and the boat surged under them. Darien grabbed frantically at the rope hand-holds along the top edge of the inflatable to keep from being dumped into the February-cold Pacific.

The sudden movement caught Bobby off-balance, and the old man with the gaff swung it at him again, the wooden pole whistling through the air past his ear, just missing his head. But Hobbes' experience in close combat evened the odds, and he was ready for the next blow, dodging to one side so he could hook a leg around the older man's and yank him off his feet. Alex, meanwhile, was rushing for the man at the controls. She was braced for a weapon of some type, and was surprised when all he had was a fishing knife. He attempted to stab her with it as he spun the wheel towards shore, but she knocked his hand to the side and double kicked him in the ribs and head. He crumpled against the throttle, and the boat roared, rearing up at the increased thrust like a restive horse.

It swerved hard to starboard when the captain tried to use the wheel to pull himself to his feet, and Hobbes lost his balance just as he finished cuffing his guy to the rail. Darien was in the process of trying to pull himself up on deck when the circling boat hit its own wake across the bow and it threw him backwards into the night-black water.

"Crap!" he protested just before his head went under water. The ocean was cold this far from shore, and he was glad he was wearing the wet suit. He'd hit the water flat on his back, and his breath was knocked out for a half minute. He struggled towards the surface wishing he had stayed back on shore. Then he felt a solid pressure pushing at him from below. For a second he panicked, thinking shark. But then realized one of the dolphins was helping him to the surface. He gasped for air when his head popped out of the water.

He shook the water out of his eyes and glanced around, trying to spot the boat. It had been brought to a halt not 20 feet away, Monroe at the helm, and his partner peering frantically out over the choppy water.

"Darien! Fawkes? Where the hell are you?" Hobbes called out.

Darien raised one arm and waved. "Here, Hobbesy," he shouted back, and coughed as a wave filled his mouth.

"You alright?" Hobbes was leaning over the side, peering around for his partner. He hoped Bobby could see him in the moonlight; the only thing that might show though, was the blue stripes on his wet suit. It looked like Bobby had been about two seconds away from jumping into the ocean after him.

Darien nodded, then choked out, "Yeah...," only to be interrupted by the friendly butt of a gray head against his ribs.

The dolphin was beside him, now, with his back under one of Darien's arms, helping him to keep above the waves. Darien was treading water, but it was harder to do in the open ocean than close to the beach. He started to kick slowly, trying to steer his living life preserver towards the boat. The dolphin chattered and obediently guided him towards the stopped boat.

He watched as Alex joined Bobby at the rail. "Looks like one of your dolphin friends helped Fawkes out," he heard Hobbes say to the redheaded agent, nodding towards the two dark forms in the water.

"They are social animals," she grinned as Darien kind of dog paddled towards the inflatable boat. His usual spiky hairstyle was dripping wet over his forehead, and he knew he looked like a nearly drowned puppy.

Darien reached the side of the inflatable boat and threw one arm over. "Thanks for the help, fella." Then to Alex, "Which one of your dolphins is this?"

Alex pointed her small flashlight at the animal beside him, "It isn't one of the trained dolphins: it isn't wearing a harness, and its markings are a little different.

"It's not?" Darien looked back at the dark gray body floating next to him. "Whoa, that's amazing! You mean he's a wild dolphin?"

"Looks like it, partner," Bobby grinned. "First Bigfoot, then racehorses, and now creatures of the sea... you sure do attract all kinds," he chuckled.

Alex turned away slightly, trying to ignore their banter them as she flipped open her cell phone and contacted the ATF agents back at Mission Bay Marine Park to move into position to arrest whomever met the dolphins when they returned. "Make sure you read them their rights. Hobbes and I will do the questioning."

"We're on it," Agent Reynolds replied, his voice audible to Darien in the quiet of the ocean at night.

Darien pulled himself over the side of the inflatable boat and looked back at the dolphin that had helped him. "Thanks, pal. I wish I could tell you so you'd understand."

The dolphin dove under the waves and a few seconds later, it jumped completely out of the water, then fell back, splashing Darien and Bobby, who was still standing near the rail.

Alex laughed. "He understands, Fawkes. I think that was 'you're welcome'."

Darien wiped the water out of his eyes then shook his head like a wet dog. That sprayed water all over their stuff in the inflatable boat and Bobby protested. "Hey, your sea-going buddy already got me wet! Knock it off, or all the rest of our stuff is going to get soaked, too!"

Alex radioed the Coast Guard next, requesting to be met at the dock so they could turn over the smugglers to them.

Darien joined them on board the fishing boat, Hobbes having given him an assist, and together, they made sure the inflatable was securely tied up alongside. Fawkes tipped the bucket of fish over the side for his new friend, waving as he caught a glimpse of what he assumed was his personal aquatic guardian angel. Alex pushed the throttle of the trawler forward, and they headed back to shore.

Their cetacean friend gave them a parting leap goodbye and disappeared into the darkness.

"Amazing," Darien said after a moment.

"What, the dolphin?" Hobbes asked, shaking his head. "Nah, not really. Stories go back to the Greeks and Romans about shipwrecked sailors being saved by dolphins." He paused a moment, thoughtfully. "They're even being used in therapy for emotionally disabled people. Greg told me he's thinking about taking Nell to a dolphin therapy program in Florida this summer," he finished, an odd note in his voice.

"Nell? Nell Murdy, your FBI partner?" Darien asked, drawing a blank for a moment.

Bobby nodded. "Yeah. Looks like all my partners go to the dogs, eventually," he smiled slightly.

"Go to the dolphins, you mean," Darien smiled back, fondly, and draped an arm over Hobbes' shoulder. They watched the wake of their boat foam into the dark sea behind them as the headed home, another screw-ball mission successfully accomplished.

"So which one of the dolphin trainers do you think it is?" Bobby asked on the way back in.

"I don't think it's any of them," Alex said after a moment's thought. "I checked them all out, I've worked with all of them, and unless my gut feeling is way off, I think it's someone else working at the park," Alex stated, having considered this extensively.

"It has to be one of the trainers! Who else could get them to perform such a complicated trick?" Bobby disagreed.

"Dolphins that are semi-domesticated, like Jet and Aeryn do 'tricks,' as you call them, because they choose to. It's like a game; that's why you have to change the routine from time to time to keep them interested," Alex explained.

Darien listened to them argue over this difference of opinion for a few minutes before he interrupted. "Then, when the smuggler sends them out into the ocean, he's taking a chance that they might just take off with his stuff, right?"

"Yes," Alex confirmed. "There is no way to control them in the open sea, if they decide they don't want to play your game. You might never see them again - or your goods," she agreed.

"That's why it's got to be one of the trainers. Who else would the dolphins like well enough to want to play with?" Hobbes was still sure he was right.

"Well, Jennings is meeting us back at the truck, so I guess we'll find out soon enough," Alex ended the discussion.

The local Coast Guard unit was waiting for them at the municipal dock when they pulled in. Hobbes turned the prisoners over to them with instructions that they would make a full report as soon as they collected the smugglers' accomplice.

Darien was just glad to dry off and get back into his clothes. He did a quick change on the far side of the truck while his partners were busy talking with the ranking ATF officer. He even towel-dried his hair, but it didn't look anything like it usually did.

Aeryn and Jet arrived back at Mission Bay Marine Park in record time. The woman was waiting for them as usual. Only this time, Agents Reynolds and Morgan were watching and waiting for her. As soon as she finished unloading the smuggled goods from the harnesses and rewarded the dolphins, they stepped forward and arrested her.

"Federal Agents, Ma'am. You're under arrest for smuggling illegal substances into the United States."

"What? No, wait, you have it all wrong. It wasn't my idea!" she protested, turning towards the two agents, clearly surprised by their sudden appearance.

"I have to read you your rights before you say anything more. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to an attorney...," he continued with the traditional mirandizing, the woman's eyes glazing over as she submitted to being cuffed.

As the woman was being taken away, Jet jumped out of the water. He watched as the two men led her out the side door.

"Katherine Graham's our park perp," Agent Reynolds informed them, having met them at the borrowed truck, with its boat trailer.

"I don't remember that name," Bobby said.

"Trust me, the lady is eminently forgettable; short, mousey hair she wears up, looks like your favorite aunt, or the local librarian. She just doesn't look like the type. Which is probably why no one could find a way to connect her to any of this 'til you three got into the act," the ATF agent responded as he pulled the truck rig out onto the streets and they headed for downtown, morning commute traffic just beginning to stir. They'd left Hobbes' van at the staging area so they could all drive back to the Agency together, after loading up the boat. Alex had said she'd drop Hobbes back at the van on her way home, so he'd agreed to leave it where it was, albeit reluctantly.

"I think I do," Darien spoke up. "She was one of the park ushers. I saw her at the sea lion show when I went in the afternoons, and at the morning dolphin shows, and she was also working the water skiing arena."

"Oh, I get it..." Hobbes said, putting it together. "And I'll bet she worked there so many years, she learned how the all trainers did their thing -- hell, how everything in the park ran - and then used that knowledge to make herself some cold, hard cash," Bobby nodded.

"It does look that way. She’s even turned in the people she was passing the smuggled items to after she collected them. We should have enough to put this whole ring out of business," Alex nodded.

"What was in the packages?" Hobbes asked.

"The stuff they brought in tonight was Chinese medicine made from endangered species. But she said they've brought in all kinds of contraband. From stolen jewels to designer drugs. What ever the customer wanted, as long as it was small enough for the dolphins to carry in their packs," Alex informed them.

"Great," Darien said, cutting short the details as his belly rumbled hollowly. He really didn't want to swig another one of Claire's revolting green protein shakes, not at this hour. "Let's stop off and get something to eat on the way back to work," he suggested as his stomach grumbled again. Alex smothered a laugh.

"That's not a bad idea, Fawkes. It's nearly dawn. Time for a nice omelet and a big cup of coffee," Bobby agreed with Darien for once.

"I could really go for some blueberry pancakes, or maybe waffles and strawberries," Darien licked his lips as he looked imploringly at Alex.

Alex was about to nix the idea when she remembered Claire's warnings about Darien's strange metabolism and his dizzy spells. "OK, we can make a quick stop, but you're going to have to get your food to go, 'hollow legs'," she stipulated.

Agent Jennings looked surprised that Agent Monroe had agreed to a food stop, but he was wise enough not to say so in front of her. "There's an International House of Pancakes a few blocks from here. Want me to stop there?"

"Yeah, that's good. They're open 24 hours, aren't they?" Darien asked no one in particular.

"Calm down, 'bottomless pit,' we'll get you some food in a few minutes," Bobby teased.

Everyone assembled in the Official's office the following afternoon. Alex and Bobby had both finished their reports about the case, while Darien had spent most of the morning in the Keep while Claire poked and prodded him, commencing on the metabolic work up she'd threatened him with.

"I thought you said we had to be here at 1:30?" Darien was in his usual place, slouching in the chair facing the right side of the Official's desk.

"That's what Eberts said; the boss wanted to see all of us at 1:30."Bobby brushed a stray piece of lint off his pants leg unconcernedly. For once, he didn't seem worried.

Alex arrived, saw that the Official wasn't there, and frowned, shooting Hobbes a look as if accusing him of hiding the Fat Man.

"He'll be here. Sit down, relax, take a load off." Hobbes waved her over to the empty chair.

"I'll check back in a few minutes," she demurred, and turned to leave, almost bumping into Eberts who was entering the office ahead of a limping Official.

"Not so fast, Miss Monroe," the Official commanded as he entered his office. "I see you're all here. Take a seat," he directed Alex. He didn't sound happy, but then, he rarely did.

Alex moved to the empty seat between Fawkes and Hobbes and waited. Eberts followed his boss to his place behind his desk, content to wait.

"Now, then. First I'd like to commend you all on a job well done," the Official started.

"Thank you, Sir. It wasn't exactly a difficult case..." Hobbes started.

"Hold on, let me finish," the Fat Man lifted one hand to stop Hobbes in mid-sentence. "It was a job well done, but...."

"There’s always a 'butt'," Darien said softly so only Bobby could hear him.

"That's for sure, and I know whose it is, too," Bobby rolled his eyes.

"...it didn't bring us the attention I'd hoped for. So there will be no additional funding forthcoming in spite of your hard work." The sour expression on the Official's face spoke volumes, and the three agents exchanged looks.

"What about the lab stuff Claire needs to restock her supplies?" Darien asked eventually, worried he was never going to be rid of his brother's greatest invention, or the trouble it seemed to cause.

"I've ordered the items she requested, but there seems to be a serious shortage of scientific equipment in California after the earthquake," Eberts answered. "Most of the big suppliers are out of stock. However, I have been keeping an eye on eBay, and there are several promising auctions coming up in the next few weeks."

"The supplies the good Doctor needs to perform her work will be obtained. It may just take longer than expected," the Official added.

"That figures." Dariien slumped even more unhappily

"Don't worry, buddy, we'll get the fancy gizmos she needs if we have to liberate them from a loading dock somewhere," Hobbes leaned over and whispered reassuringly to his partner.

"The only reward I can offer you is the rest of the day off," the Official announced, surprising them all with any type of generous gesture.

"Thank you. I believe I'll be taking advantage of your kind offer," Alex said as she stood and quickly made her exit. The other two agents looked after her curiously.

"Wonder where she's off to in such a hurry," Darien mused aloud.

Hobbes shrugged. "Hot date?" he speculated.

"I'll see you tomorrow with a new assignment," the Official interrupted the banter and dismissed the two men.

"Right. Thank you, Sir," Bobby Hobbes stood and made a sideways motion with his head for Darien to join him, and fast, before the boss changed his mind.

"Happy to be of service," Darien scowled, wondering what sort of unseen strings might be attached to this uncharacteristic gesture. Despite his misgivings, though, he stood and followed Hobbes out into the hallway.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, junior," Hobbes advised, apparently sensing Darien's doubts. "What do you want to do with the rest of our day off?" Bobby was smiling, bouncing down the hall towards the elevator with a spring in his step. "The Marine Park?"

Darien rolled his eyes. He'd had enough of sea life for quite a while. "Anything but that. What do you want to do?" Darien played along.

"Let's go down to the multiplex and catch a movie," Bobby suggested.

"Was there any movie in particular you wanted to see?" Darien had heard about a film he'd like to check out, but only if Bobby agreed.

"I don't know, what's playin' besides that Hobbit movie?"

"That 'Hobbit movie?' Lord of the Rings is way more than just some sci-fi flick,"

Darien protested.

"Yeah? Looks kind of overdone from the trailer things I've seen on the tube,"

Bobby commented.

"Lord of the Rings is one of the great literary trilogies of the twentieth century.

It's been translated into 20 languages...." Darien began to explain.

"Trilogy, schmilogy. Isn't there something good out now?" Hobbes vetoed Tolkien.

"I think Mystic River is still out; it was nominated for an Oscar," Darien reminded him.

"Remind me what that one is about?"

"Friends reunited after a tragedy, I hear that both Sean Penn and Tim Robbins turned in terrific performances. Clint Eastwood directed it," Darien added.

"Sounds like a snore fest. After the last week I wanna see something funny. Isn't there some comedy out we could go to?" Bobby interrupted his partner.

Darien held up a finger for Bobby to wait and ducked into Eberts' office; the morning paper was neatly folded on the edge of the desk. He leafed through it until he got to the movie page and pulled it out of the paper, figuring Eberts wouldn't mind that he was taking it. He joined his partner back out in the hallway.

"Okay, let me look here." Darien perused the movie selection.

"There's that one with Ben Stiller and Jennifer Aniston,"Darien offered.

"What's that about?"

"He's this uptight guy, she's a bohemian chick. They use to know each other and they meet up one day after he's been dumped."

"Chick flick," Bobby vetoed that one. "Next?"

"I think that Tim Burton one is still out. It's called Big Fish."

"Never mind, I don't even like the sound of the title."

"There's Cheaper By the Dozen, with Steve Martin. He's the father of 12 kids and all kinds of stuff happens." Darien had seen the promos for the film so he ad-libbed.

"Sounds kind of weak, anything else?" Bobby urged, clearly hoping for something that sounded more along the lines of what he wanted to see.

"How about the new Adam Sandler movie? You like him, right?"

"The guy from Water Boy and that other movie? You remember, he was that spoiled rich guy." Bobby perked up when he heard there might be at least one funny movie to choose from.

"Yeah, he had to go back to school to meet the requirements for him to get his inheritance," Darien added.

"What was the name of that one?" Hobbes couldn't recall the title.

"Billy Madison," Darien answered, smiling.

"That guy is a riot. What's he in now?" Bobby nodded in agreement, finally.

"It's called Fifty First Dates, I hear it's pretty good and it's funny," Darien explained. "He meets up with Drew Barrymore, but she has this head injury that prevents her from remembering anything for more than a day. So he has to keep meeting her over and over again."

"OK, that sounds like the one." Hobbes pushed open the door to the outside, and walked towards Golda.

Darien grinned, and followed him. "I'm kind of hungry again, I hope they still have nachos at the theater."

"You're going to eat those before the show, right?" Bobby asked. Darien knew Hobbes didn't mind people eating popcorn at the movies, but he didn't like all the other food they offered now. Nachos, pizza and those big pretzels. Darien didn't quite understand why.

"Don't worry I won't be crunching in your ear during the movie," Darien promised.

"You got that right, my friend." Bobby pulled Golda out into traffic.

I thought about our case a little as we drove towards the movie theater. Captain Barbosa of the Black Pearl reminded his captive: "The pirate code isn't so much a set of rules, as it is guidelines." After spending part of my life as a thief, it was still kind of the way I looked at the rules the Agency wanted me to follow; more as guidelines then hard and fast rules....

End