"This guy is boring!" Ayda shouted to the heavens, voice echoing off the apartment walls. "I mean, he's just make a drop, go home, all the time. At least go to a strip club or something, dude!"

The aggravated teenager paced behind Elliot, who sat at his computer, idly rolling his chair back and forth with tiny foot movements. On his monitor was a map of the city, several green lines drawn upon it. While there was the occasional divergence, most connected two solitary points, an apartment complex and a laundromat. Most other locations were only visited once.

"You actually want him to go to a strip club?" Elliot turned to give her a skeptical gaze.

"He lives ten minutes away from one!" Asserted Ayda, gesturing toward the screen. "It'd be more interesting than this crap."

"It hasn't been that long," Elliot observed as he turned back around. "Maybe he's just busy?"

"He'd fucking better be," said the girl. She had to stop for a minute. Her own pacing was making her nervous. Ayda leaned back against the far wall, crossing her arms with an audible huff. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Calm thoughts. Happy thoughts. Bunnies, and blue skies, and shit.

While she recovered from that little tantrum, Elliot leaned in for a closer look at his monitor. He turned it away from the midday sun streaming through the window, and also wiped away some dust with his hand. Neither had much effect on the glare. It was a Saturday afternoon, almost one week since their meeting with the courier.

Silence fell over the room as Elliot lapsed into deep thought. For all her complaining, Ayda had a point. Courier seemed like a pretty active job. It didn't really make sense for this particular specimen to do basically nothing for six whole days. It was perfectly possible he just didn't have many deliveries, but that seemed unlikely in a logistical sense. With the estimated amount of product the triad pushed, they—theoretically–couldn't afford to let a courier have such a light work week.

"Maybe it's the jacket?" Elliot observed offhandedly. "He might not wear it everywhere."

"That's a good point," conceded Ayda. "I'll shove it up his ass next time."

"Hey, I worked hard to make that tracker," he protested without looking at her.

"Yeah? I'm gonna need you to make another one, too," Ayda added fuel to the fire. Elliot knew what she was doing. Sometimes, that girl just got in the mood for an argument. It was the fighter in her. Thankfully for him, he had the perfect ammunition to disarm her.

"I already did," he said with a shrug. "I made you a spare, remember?"

"Well, look at you," Ayda mocked sarcastically. She sighed. "Sorry. I'm just frustrated, you know?"

"I hear ya," Elliot agreed, tracing one of the solitary green lines with his finger.

"I mean, we spent all that time on the phone, and the planning, and what did we get? Jack shit." She glanced at him, and only then noticed his silent contemplation. Ayda popped off the wall and walked up behind him. "What are you doing?" She asked, leaning over his left shoulder.

"Look at all these random single lines," he said, tracing a different one from before, "the ones that don't fit any sort of pattern."

"Yeah, those are probably deliveries," Ayda replied. "We already figured that out."

"But what if they're not?"

"What?" Ayda leaned away and looked at him.

"What if his job isn't just bringing meth to dealers, but also delivering it to a bunch of different hubs?" Suggested Elliot. Ayda pondered this for a moment, squinting at the lines on the screen.

"What, like distribution centers," Ayda asked. "Why bother with something like that? Seems overcomplicated, to me."

"Maybe it's supposed to be? If the meth is coming from more than one place, that would make it harder to track."

"And it would spread out their supply, so losing one place wouldn't ruin the whole operation," Ayda added her own idea. "You may be on to something." She thought for a moment. "Oh! And using distribution centers would also make it harder for the cops to find the labs."

"Exactly," agreed Elliot. "Look at these three lines" He used fingers on both hands to trace out a trio of routes. "They all converge on the same spot. I thought those were just deliveries, but what if he's actually getting product from there?"

Ayda looked over all of the information Elliot just presented. It was a good deduction, on his part. Certainly, it was odd that this guy would go to some random location three times, especially if an assumed delivery followed immediately after. If only the trackers showed what direction the person was traveling in. Something to keep in mind for the next iteration.

"Wait, I know that place. It's just an office building" Ayda said as a lightbulb went off in her head.

"And what could possibly be more innocuous?" Elliot responded, flexing his vocabulary muscles in the process. "It's worth a shot, right?"

"Yeah, I should probably take a look." Ayda slinked into an upright position and started toward the exit. "If this is just a waste of time, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Wait," Elliot stopped her with his voice. "You're going out right now, dressed like that?" He pointed, indicating her blue jeans, sneakers, and black band logo t-shirt.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "They'll be expecting me at night, but if I go now and wear this, I'll blend in. ...probably."

Elliot cocked his head to the side. "I never thought of it like that," he said.

"That's why I'm the professional," Ayda joked. "I'll call you when I get there."

"Okay. Be careful,"

"No promises," Ayda smirked, slipping out of the office, destined for the exit door.

…

It never ceased to surprise her how many people wasted their time out and about on a perfectly good Saturday afternoon. It wasn't quite the dinner rush yet, so hungry folks couldn't account for many of the commuters. Yet, Ayda found herself in in traffic. It wasn't at a gridlock level, but the density of vehicles certainly slowed things down. At times like these, Ayda was most thankful for her choice of transportation. She could thread between the bulky cars to keep a much more consistent speed than her much larger peers. It allowed for quicker arrival at her destination.

The office building in question lay on the west end of the city, between the commercial and ritzy residential areas. The way she normally took into the city brought her around it, but she occasionally passed it by. From the outside, it looked like a normal two-story, rectangular building. Perhaps Elliot was right. No one would expect the pencil pushers to hide a pile of ice. In all likelihood, few of the employees knew, as well. All of this assumed the place was even a front in the first place. The possibility remained of this being a complete waste of time. Ayda hoped this was not the case. She could think of a thousand better things to do than pointlessly poke around an office.

Through a mix of audacity and determination, Ayda reached her destination. It was not a bad trip, all in all. The weather was fair, not too hot or cold. The surprising level of traffic could be done without, but she complained about that even on light days. In reality, it posed little problem to her noble stallion. Had she not known any better, it would have seemed like a normal, casual weekend jaunt. But, no. She had a job to do, a location to scope out.

The office was even more boring up close than in passing; two perfectly rectangular stories or absolute dullness. Nothing stood out about it. Nothing drew the eye nor demanded attention. Its windows were depressingly small. Anyone looking to peer inside wouldn't be able to see much, which was probably the point. These sorts of organizations always kept secrets close to their chest, as if information were the more valuable commodity on the planet. And if the place really did double as a Triad front, then all the more reason to keep outside eyes from gaining admittance. Ayda hadn't thought about it until right then, but that may prove a barrier to entry.

The teenager rode slowly through the parking lot. These kinds of establishments usually had specific rules about where one could and couldn't park. The signage was rather clear, though, so finding a spot required little in the space of time. She pulled around left to the front entrance and nestled in between a gray sedan and a bronze pickup truck. With a push of a button and a kick of the stand, Ayda dismounted her beast. She did not go straight for the entrance, however, opting instead to dial a number on her phone. It rang a single time before the recipient of the call picked up.

"Hey," she said. "Yeah, I just got here. I'm in the parking lot."

"Did you think of a plan on the way there, or are you just gonna go in the front door?" Elliot asked from the other side of the line, a hint of a joke in his voice.

"No, I think that would draw too much attention. I'm gonna look for a side door first, or something," Ayda began walking as she spoke.

"That sounds like a good idea. Are you gonna keep the call open?"

"For now. You'll be in my pocket, though, so you might not be able to hear me."

"I'll just listen really closely, then," Elliot quipped. Ayda rolled her eyes and put him away. With the device securely stowed, she made her way up to the building.

A sidewalk ringed it, the purpose of which she couldn't really ascertain. Why bother with a sidewalk around the place? Was it against the rules to walk through the parking lot? How would people get inside? She physically shook the notion from her head. There would be time for distractions later. Right now was the time for concentration.

The lot continued around the right hand side and then behind the building. Ayda stuck to the sidewalk. It felt ridiculous to do, since the path served absolutely zero purpose, but something told her it's the procedure any regular employee or guest would follow. Blending in was important. The longer she avoided detection, the better the chance of finding what she wanted, one way or another. Someone would catch on eventually, it was inevitable. How long she could keep that from happening would be one of many deciding factors.

She encountered no one on her transit of the building. Just a little after the standard lunch time for most folks, everyone had probably already eaten and gone back to work, which suited her just fine. The last thing the intrusive girl needed was to initiate conflict before even entering the establishment. She'd have a hard enough time once inside.

Moving around to the back of the building revealed a rear entrance, just as Ayda predicted. It was a pair of Plexiglas doors. A peer inside revealed they led not to any sort of lobby, but let out straight within a work space. Perfect. These people were all busy doing their respective jobs, evidenced by the torrent of typing and clicking. If quiet enough, she could slip in without anyone noticing.

The moment Ayda walked inside, she felt her soul being sucked out. It was quiet, deadly quiet. The only sounds were that of manual computer operations, mice and keyboards. The employees, a diverse bunch of men and women, worked at long divided desks. Each person had his or her own workspace complete with two flat screen computer monitors, old looking towers, and everything one would need to work with them.

A quick glance revealed almost every person listened to music through buds in their ears. Glued to their screens and sensorially deprived, not a single one of them noticed the unfamiliar young woman who walked in. She knew not to linger. The teenager made her way down a row of work stations, trying to move in a way which made little noise and drew no attention.

While the pace with which the people operated seemed to indicate some sort of industrious focus, the occasional sigh betrayed the truth of their shared circumstance. They were bored. Beyond any words or rational reason, they were bored. The sighs were the most any of them could do in protest, because actual complaints led to firing. They hated their lives. This was not a place Ayda could ever stand to work. Just being within it threatened to drive her mad. She had to retrieve any relative intelligence and then get out. Otherwise, she'd have a breakdown.

Set in the far wall was a series of doorways at random intervals apart. A few of them Ayda could see inside. One was a copier room. Another, a place for breaks, the third didn't seem to go much of anywhere. The far left was what interested her. One thing was obvious; she would never find anything here, not in this room. If any passage led to a different area, her bet would be the far left.

A quick glance to her left revealed not everyone sat quietly at their desks. A middle-aged woman—who was assumedly either tech support or a supervisor—spoke with a random employee on the west side of the room, not far from the door for which Ayda was destined. Judging by the level of pointing from both parties, the conversation was most likely technical in nature, which meant it could end at any time. Ayda had to move quickly.

The teenager strode within the lane formed by two separate lengthy work tables. She kept her eyes forward, chin up, pace moderate, all in an attempt to look like she belonged. And, for some reason or another, it worked out in her favor. The employees were simply too engrossed in their own responsibilities to give her a second look, although doubtless they noticed someone walking behind them. Ayda shot sporadic, quick glances at the two people carrying on a conversation. They, too, paid little mind to anything else other than their task.

For a place with so little going on, it was a lot to take in. There were too many eyes, too many people to divide her attention between. Any one of them could rat her out with a simple phrase, a greeting or inquiry as to her purpose. Ayda had to get out of this room. She focused on the far left doorway, her destination. It took all of her power to avoid breaking into a jog.

She didn't even realize she'd made it out the door until the scenery changed. Instead of a work floor, Ayda instead found herself within what looked like to be a secretarial office. Three separate cubicles with computers and phones occupied the space, arranged in a perpendicular formation. The girl never stopped moving, but blinked twice. She needed to pay closer attention, to remember her environment as well as the objective, and not either separately. It was a stupid mistake, an amateur move which may have cost her the mission. It wouldn't happen again.

This area posed little problem. It contained only one old woman talking quietly on the phone. Ayda passed through it and into the next. This was another production space. Although less populous and much smaller, it was just as busy. She stopped to take a quick look around. As evidenced by the several displays, the work here was much different, more technical in nature. Experience with the previous space gave her confidence. Ayda strode through this one like she owned the place, nary a falter in her step. What interested her was the door to the east. She made way through it and into the hall outside.

And here she stopped to rest a moment. A long exhale escaped her lungs. How long had she been holding her breath? The respite only lasted a heartbeat, though; just long enough to get back on track. Ayda looked left, and then right. The hallway was adorned with cherry tongue and groove on the walls and grey carpeting. A few doors broke up the walls at different points. Most importantly, it was empty. No one else occupied it. The teenager took advantage of the alone time to dig out her cellphone.

"Well, I'm in," she said into the device.

"Did you find anything yet?" Elliot said through the speaker.

"Don't be an ass," Ayda warned. "I don't even know what I'm looking for."

"Anything suspicious, right?" Elliot said.

"But that's exactly the problem." Ayda began walking to the left, down the hall. "They're not just gonna leave a bag of the stuff lying around. I could look around here forever and not find anything." She was very careful to leave out any specific organizations or contraband from the conversation.

"If they are storing... stuff there, then the two operations are probably completely separate," observed Elliot. "Different workers, data storage, and everything."

"You're telling me," Ayda agreed. "I've dealt with secret organizations before, remember?" At the end of the hall was a left turn. Ayda hung it without a moment's hesitation, just like an employee would. Another corridor stretched off here, this one with noticeably more doors than the previous.

Continuing on, Ayda chose a door at random to peer inside. Through the square window she could see four long, rectangular tables lined on both sides with colorful plastic chairs. There was a boring white refrigerator and two matching microwaves set in a wooden alcove next to it. While Ayda couldn't see a coffee maker inside, there probably was one. Finally, left of the microwaves was a trio of vending machines, one for drinks and two for snacks.

"I found another break room," Ayda commented offhandedly. "How lazy are these people?"

"Is there anyone inside?" Elliot asked.

"What, you want me to interrogate them or something?" She joked, resuming her walk down the hall. "I don't think we'd have much to talk about."

"Wait, talking! That's it!" Exclaimed Elliot all of a sudden. "Ayda, this is gonna sound crazy, but I need to hack your phone."

"What, why?" Ayda stopped in the middle of the hall and did a quarter turn.

"Okay, stick with me, here." Elliot paused a second to catch his breath. "An operation like this would need to coordinate somehow, but I don't think they'd use cellphones because they're too easily traceable. So, unless they have a bunch of carrier pigeons, they probably use walkie-talkies. I can boost the transceiver in your phone to pick up on their radio waves, but to do that I need to hack it from here."

"Elliot, you're a genius," Ayda breathed. "Do it. But don't go through my photos," she quickly added.

"Don't worry," reassured Elliot.

A short silence followed as he got to work. Ayda could hear furious typing and mouse clicks from his side of the conversation. She periodically looked at her phone's screen to see if there were any noticeable changes. She expected the process to at least kick her out of the call, but as the time stretched on, nothing seemed to happen. The teenager wanted to talk, to ask questions, but she couldn't risk distracting Elliot, especially while he poked around in her second most treasured possession.

Ayda was just beginning to get antsy. She looked up and down the hallway, tapping her foot a few times. Precious seconds slipped by while Elliot did his work. She knew not to rush progress, but a little hustle wouldn't go remiss. The girl glanced again at the phone. It was still connected to the call, and suffered no visual changes. The thing did, however, feel markedly warmer in her hand. Perhaps that was a good sign? A few more ticks on the proverbial clock, and Elliot finally spoke up.

"And... done! Holy crap," he said.

"What, did you find something?" Ayda took a step and bent forward just slightly, pressing the phone even closer to her ear.

"Well, let me put it this way, Elliot began. "It looks like someone is listening to twenty car radios all at once."

"So there is something here?" Ayda insisted.

"Yeah, something, but I can't get a read on the frequency, we're too far away. Try walking."

"Alright." Ayda took off at a brisk pace toward the end of the hallway. "Just tell me if I'm hot or cold."

She took a few steps in silence, heart threatening to throw itself from her chest, not from excitement or fear, but anxiety. This was the closest she'd ever been. Every bone in her body yearned for a discovery. To come all this way and go through so much effort for nothing would be a devastating setback. They'd be back at square one, probably to the point of shaking down another random dealer for his courier contacts. Ayda did not want to start over. This had to lead somewhere, because she didn't know what to do, otherwise.

"Well, you're definitely closer," commented Elliot. "I'm not seeing a whole lot of change, though."

"I'm gonna run into a wall in a second, here," Ayda said. "There's a staircase to my left, going up and down."

"Go down," Elliot said. "That sounds like a safer bet."

"Yeah, I was gonna say," Ayda began as she started her ascent. "I don't think there'd be a meth den on the roof."

"We've both seen weirder things, though."

"True."

The staircase was rather short, moreso than she expected. When Ayda hit the bottom, she found herself in a dimly lit room. It had workstations and computers, but no people. She was completely and totally alone.

The girl paused for a moment, looking left and then right. The room felt strange, in the same way anywhere which was supposed to have people, but didn't. She strode into the empty room, choosing a direction at random. There were doors on the far and leftward walls. She'd go through them if necessary, but doing so would just take up more time. She still wanted to get out of this place fast as possible.

"Whoa, stop!" Elliot said suddenly. Ayda froze in her tracks.

"What, what is it?" She said, concerned.

"The signal is super strong right there," he explained. "Where are you right now? Because you're standing right on top of it."

"I'm in another office space, but there's no one in here. It must be for the night crew or something." She turned around to look for a second. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Well, this is definitely a walkie-talkie frequency. Assuming the place has a basement, and compensating for whatever materials the signal would have to go through, I don't think it can get much stronger."

"So, there's definitely something here, then," Ayda said. She needed to be extra sure, to hear him say it.

"Again, assuming this place has a basement, yeah. I can't tell what, though."

"Still, something about this doesn't make sense," mulled Ayda. "Why would they put something in the basement of a public building? You'd think someone would stumble across it, eventually."

"Maybe the employees don't know about it," guessed Elliot. "It could be a secret basement without access from inside the building."

"Maybe," agreed Ayda. "But, this is starting to sound like a movie."

"It makes sense, if you think about it. All the Wi-Fi signals bouncing around in there would help mask the walkie-talkies from a distance, and no one would ever think to look for a basement that technically doesn't exist. Then, they'd only have to worry about moving the product around without raising suspicion."

"You seem awfully good at this," Ayda observed. "Sure you're not one of them?"

"No, but I have seen Breaking Bad."

"You're an idiot." Ayda shook her head.

"So, are you gonna try to go down there?"

"God, no. Are you crazy?" Ayda asked as she made her way back toward the stairs. "They'd find me in, like, ten seconds." She began to ascend. "No, you gave me a better idea. The way I see it, I don't need to find where they store the product, just how they get it out of here."

"That..." Elliot mulled it over, "makes a lot of sense, actually. Got any ideas?"

"Just one, but it's a bit of a stretch," said the girl. She reached the top of the stairs and turned down the hall, back down the way she'd come.

"Alright, lay it on me," encouraged her partner.

"Okay. On T.V, buildings like this always have a mail room. It would be a busy place with access to the outside, and they could hide stuff in the packages, which no one else can legally open."

"But, wouldn't the whole post office have to be in on it?" Elliot asked.

"Yeah, that's why it's a stretch." Ayda rolled her eyes. Even she thought the idea was stupid. "Hey, I'm gonna put you back in my pocket, alright."

"You know, you should really look into a Bluetooth headset," commented Elliot.

"I know, I just haven't gotten around to it yet," she replied. "I'll talk to you in a few minutes." And with that, she put the phone in her jeans.

With conversation no longer impairment, Ayda once again focused fully on the task at hand. Her only lead was tumultuous at best, and the investigation of it left a lot to be desired, but it was still much more than she'd ever expected to find, especially in such a short period. Worst case scenario, the two of them determine there's nothing here, and continue to monitor travel data from the tagged courier. Even if this wasn't the place, he'd have to lead them somewhere eventually. From that perspective, all her previous doubts about the mission seemed quite stupid. A little faith worked wonders.

Now, the average person in a similar scenario would most likely continue to bumble around inside the building to find the mail room. It was a perfectly logical course of action, and one which would invariably bear fruit before long. Ayda, however, did not have the patience for bumbling. She needed to use the most efficient method possible for locating the mail room. As she'd said to Elliot on the phone, the room would have access to the parking lot. The best way to find an outside door was from the outside.

To that end, the curious teenager once again strode onto the pointless sidewalk. She'd followed the corridors around to the front of entrance. Walking back through the rear doors, past the employees she'd worked so hard to circumvent, would only raise suspicion. Even if this was toward the end of her quest, she still didn't feel like dealing with any further problems. The front lobby, thankfully, took her outside the main office instead of through it. This design decision allowed Ayda to slip out completely unnoticed.

Once outside, she turned left. Again, she seriously doubted anything worth seeing was on the westward side of the building, since the sidewalk didn't wrap around that way. Although, that could be intentional, a misdirect. She'd make her way over there eventually, if the rest of the building proved a dead end. It hopefully wouldn't get to that point.

Sitting at the exact halfway point within one of the shorter walls—it was a rectangular structure, remember—the front entrance was only a quick trek from the first bend in the sidewalk. Without a second thought, the girl turned around the corner. In all honesty, she wasn't even paying attention. So, when the side of the building came into view, her heart skipped a beat. Acting on pure instinct, she whipped back around the corner.

With markedly more caution than the first time, Ayda peeked around the wall, looking with only one eye to minimize exposure. Several feet from the corner was a light gray van backed up to a set of opened double doors. The rear doors of the van were also agape. Red letters outlined in white on the side said "El Puerto Delivery Service."

The van wasn't what gave her pause, though. Rather, the people around it did. Two men worked together loading and unloading unlabeled boxes from the van. One of them was clearly the driver, dressed in the blue shirt and jeans which made up his uniform, sleeves rolled up to partially reveal black tribal tattoos on both his arms. The other wore a black suit with a matching t-shirt underneath, no tie, his short hair slicked up in fine spikes. He turned around to put down a package, and Ayda saw a walkie-talkie hanging from his belt.

The two of them worked diligently at a modest pace, clearly not in a hurry, but with no desire to stick around, either. Occasionally, they spoke to one another in what sounded like Chinese, swift quips which Ayda didn't understand. A pair of Asian men with tattoos, moving around nondescript boxes, speaking a foreign language, and one of them with a device she'd literally just been stalking. Ayda hated to profile them in such a way, but they certainly fit the description of gangsters.

The girl couldn't see inside, but good money said this was indeed the mail room. Internally, she kicked herself. She'd walked right past it on her way into the building. It seemed so obvious in retrospect, even though the idea to use the mail room in the first place only occurred to her after an examination of the establishment.

Ayda continued to watch them for a moment. Their work seemed rather mundane, but that was absolutely on purpose. Anyone walking or driving by would think they were just normal employees unloading a truck. They weren't supposed to look suspicious. For that matter, Ayda had no way of knowing if they were up to no good or not. This could be a perfectly tame occurrence.

She extracted her wallet and took from its bifold something which looked like a fat nickle encased in waxed paper. She fiddled with the thing in her palm, seeming to contemplate its very existence. This object was the extra tracker Elliot had made for her on the off chance she'd lost the first one when going after the courier. Now, she had a decision to make, but it really wasn't much of a choice. This could be her only chance, and only an utter fool would pass it up. With a deep breath in, and then out, she slipped again around the corner.

In the most natural way possible, like someone just walking through the parking lot, Ayda made her way toward the vehicle. She looked left and then right, leaning forward just slightly as if to get a better look at something. Her chosen path led right around the front of the van, where she paused. Again, the teenager looked around, taking in every inch of the lot. The men had yet to notice her, which was exactly what she wanted, to blend in.

With an unnecessary and audible sigh, Ayda leaned back, placing the palms of her hands behind her up against the front of the van. Her fingers curled around the edge of the hood to rest on the grill. She crossed her ankles and again peered around. All of this, to distract from her true goal. Well, hopefully, anyway. Deception was not her strong suit.

And this was proven almost immediately. Ayda could not remain incognito forever, especially while within plain view. Whether it was the sigh or the lean itself was absolutely impossible to determine, but both the driver and his assistant were tipped off at Ayda's presence in almost the exact same instant.

"Hey!" Yelled the driver, charging around the vehicle toward her. "Hands off the car!"

"Oh!" Ayda feigned surprise, popping off the vehicle as she turned to face him. "I'm sorry, is this yours?"

The driver stopped in front of her, menacing down at the girl with a stiff posture, his hands rolled up into fists. Ayda flashed him a quick smile, her best effort to appear nonthreatening. It didn't seem to work, though, as the driver remained on edge. She glanced to his right to see the other man staring at her. While he took no action, his keen observation denoted a willingness to intervene. Time to be done with this, then.

"Yeah, I'm just trying to remember where I parked my bike," Ayda said. "I thought it was around this side, but I guess not."

"Just get out of here, go," commanded the driver, pointing toward the road.

"Alright, man, chill out, Christ." Ayda turned and walked away from him, giving a sly smirk as she left.

That went about as well as it possibly ever could have. The only better outcome would be to have no conflict whatsoever, but that was probably her fault. She lingered just a second too long on the van, and it cost an inconsequential amount of time. But, all in all, she accomplished her goal with flying colors, a success by any measure. Ayda mounted the motorcycle which she'd fibbed about struggling to find, switched it on, and pulled out of the parking lot, a wide grin on her face.

Once underway, she dug her phone from her pocket. The prospect of speaking while trying to ride a bike didn't exactly appeal to her, but Elliot would probably be worried sick after all that. Plus, Ayda couldn't wait to tell him.

"Hey," she began, shouting over the bike, "I'm leaving the office, now, if you couldn't tell by all the engine noise."

"What was all that?" Elliot asked. "Who were you talking to?"

"Elliot, I think I was right about the mail room, thing," she began. The teenager would've liked to continue, but Elliot spoke up before she could.

"So the post office is in on it?" He asked, incredulous. "How is that even possible?"

"It's not the post office," clarified Ayda. "I found a van belonging to the El Puerto Delivery Service. Two guys were moving a bunch of plain brown packages around. One of them was a driver, and the other looked like one of the professional-type Triads I've run into before." This little blurb came out as a torrent of words, spurred on by an insatiable need to tell someone of her immense accomplishment.

"A private package delivery service..." Elliot mused. "That would make a lot more sense," he agreed. "How do you know that's how they're moving product around?"

"I don't, but I slipped my spare tracker in the van's grill just in case. I figure we can watch them for a little bit, and if it doesn't lead anywhere, we can try something else." Ayda thoroughly explained her logic in that situation. It was a sound plan, at least in her mind, but she didn't know if Elliot agreed.

"That's good," Elliot said. Ayda released a mental sigh of relief. "Not that I can really say anything about it. The field side of things is your area of expertise, not mine."

"And that's why we work so well together," Ayda affirmed, something she'd said on numerous occasions before. "Now all that's left to do is sit and wait... again."

More waiting, the thing Ayda hated the most in the entire world. It didn't hit her until uttering the words what she'd just set herself up for. At least a delivery truck would be more interesting than the world's most tame organized criminal. It may have sounded odd, but Ayda actually looked forward to seeing what kind of adventures a glorified mailman got up to.