Sands sat in his hotel room pondering that exact thought. He believed that he had two options available to him. He could lead Jackson on and find out just whom he worked for, or he could waste the rat and be done with it.

He greatly preferred the latter idea.

Yeah, he was going to have the smoke the bastard.

Then again, it could be fun messing with Jackson for a while, come to think of it.

Slipping his sunglasses back on, Sands smiled as a truly sinister plot came to mind. He seriously needed a little fun right now, a little distraction from his current problems, and if anyone had it coming, it was Jackson.

Hearing El begin to come to in the bathroom, Sands’ smile widened. Enough of dancing around the matter of business; to hell with the games that they’d been playing with each other. El was going to see things his way, figuratively speaking of course, or he wasn’t going to see anything at all.

There was a soft knock on the room door before it opened completely, and Cam’s voice jarred Sands from his thoughts.

"Alright Sands. I have no idea what I just ordered, but I ordered it."

"Kooky."

"By the way, I broke the lock on your door here," Cam said, before closing it and listening to El shuffling around in the bathroom. "I think he’s going to be grumpy."

Sands smirked and walked over to Cam, coming to stand by him in the entryway. "Might as well open the door. He’ll just perform his best howler monkey impression if we don’t. The idea of the hotel staff’s attention isn’t a hip prospect to me right now."

"Yeah, but what are…"

"Just open the door, Cam,’ Sands interrupted.

Doing what he was ordered, Cam opened the door to the sight of El Mariachi leaning against the bathtub, groaning unhappily and rubbing the back of his head.

"Ah, sleeping beauty has awakened. El, really... must you make a habit of forcing me to render you unconscious every time we speak? It makes it a bit hard to move forward with this operation when you’re constantly out cold." Sands’ eyebrows rose as El began to spit out some rather colorful curses in Spanish. "Such language, El! You’re corrupting my poor little virgin ears."

Cam couldn’t contain the snort of laughter that escaped past his professional façade at hearing Sands’ last comment.

Sands’ gun was in his hand as he moved into the bathroom and crouched in front of El, who was still swearing under his breath. "Now it’s time you and I got down to brass tacks, so shut the fuck up and listen to what I have to say. If you don’t, I’ll make Swiss cheese out of your Mariachi ass."

"Empty threats, Sands. You need me for something…"

"Correction, I want you to do something. Your worth has decreased drastically since my partner’s arrival, so it’s in your best interests not to piss me off anymore than you already have or…" Sands trailed off before mouthing the word ‘bang’ and mimicking the action of shooting.

"What do you want?" El ground out.

Sands smiled nastily before finally giving El his answer. "I want you to break into the CIA’s Mexico Headquarters, and steal some rather… sensitive documents."

"What?" El asked, bewildered. He was sure that he hadn’t heard right.

"You heard me loud and clear. It’s a shame really, you may not even have to kill anybody, and we both know there’s no fun in that. All you have to do is scamper into headquarters, preferably undetected, develop a case of sticky fingers, and nab some critical documents for yours truly."

"Why me? Why not him?" El asked, pointing to Cam.

Unaware of El’s gesture, Sands cocked his head. Bending down, he leaned close to El, much to the Mariachi’s discomfort. Sands’ drawl was slow and quiet, with a deliberately menacing undertone. "You don’t seem to be catching my drift. Anyway you slice it… you owe me. I don’t give a rat’s ass whether you ever admit it or not. You are not here to ask me questions. You are here for one sole purpose, El. Do you know what that is?" Sands asked, not expecting an answer and not receiving one. "No? Well then, let me spell it out for you. You are here to please me, El. Nothing else on this earth matters. You are here to complete the assignment I’ve given you, and complete it with flying colors. If you don’t, if you disappoint me once again…" Sands paused a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was ice. "…I’ll blow you away."

Sands stood, returning to stand by Cam in the doorway. He could practically feel El’s eye’s burning into his back. Facing El again, Sands continued. "You know, you’re lucky I didn’t just shoot you full of holes and bury you in your precious Paracho. You’re equally lucky that my trigger finger hasn’t twitched since then and caused a nasty accident. Next time, El, you won’t be so lucky. I can guarantee it."

Sands returned to the main part of the room, with Cam following closely behind. El slowly pulled himself off the linoleum floor, his head pounding from Sands’ blow.

"Like to go shopping, Cam?" Sands asked casually, when he heard Cam behind him, as if he’d already forgotten his spat with El.

As far as Sands was concerned, the next order of business was dealing with Jackson, and there was no time to lose.

"Does it matter?" Cam asked, knowing that he was going whether he liked it or not.

Sands smirked, grabbing the notepad off the desk and tossing it to Cam. The notepad was quickly followed by a pen, and Cam found himself smacked in the chest with both objects.

Groaning as they hit the floor, Cam picked them up as El walked into the room.

"You never could catch worth shit, Cam."

Cam rolled his eyes and sat on the end of the bed. "What am I shopping for?"

"Cigarettes," Sands said immediately.

Cam silently fought to withhold a retort about Sands’ weakness for nicotine. He didn’t feel like dying today. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, but I want to make sure you get a pack of cigarettes. Make that a couple packs. Bali Shag, if you can get them in this spit-wad of a country."

"Noted."

"Once you have the cigarettes… get corn syrup, two large bottles of water, a plastic salad bowl, corn starch, milk, white school glue, and food coloring; blue and red."

Cam raised an eyebrow as he finished writing down what Sands had asked for. "Am I allowed to ask what we’re going to make?"

Sands smiled maliciously. "A little surprise for Jackson. Certain… betrayals on his part have come to my attention. He’s a bad actor in this little play of ours." Walking over to his bag, Sands reached in and grabbed another 9mm clip and his cane, tucking away the latter in his jeans’ pocket quickly. "He didn’t play his part right, failed to hit his mark and follow the script. It’s time he got the hook. I’m just the person to make certain that he exits stage left, and ensure that he goes out with a bang before his final curtain call."

Cam shook his head, certain that Sands’ lingo had to be of his own invention. Dreading whatever twisted plot Sands undoubtedly had cooking in his perverted mind, he stood and made to exit, shooting a warning glare in El’s direction as he did so. "Alright, I’ll be back in a few," Cam said, opening the door.

"Don’t forget the cigarettes!" Sands called after him, hearing Cam grumble something unintelligible in response on his way out.

As soon as the door closed, Sands turned towards El. "You come with me. There’s a certain vehicle that needs inspecting." Making sure the cardkey was in his pocket, Sands opened the room’s door and gestured for El to go first.

They walked through the hotel and out the front doors in silence, before El finally asked, "What do you want me here for?"

"Well, I can’t recognize the car that we arrived in, now can I?"

El cleared his throat uncomfortably before making his way towards the car. "This is the one," El said, when they stopped in front of the car they’d arrived in.

Immediately Sands faced El and shooed him away. "Buzz away, little fly," Sands said, returning his attention to the car and running a hand along the top.

"But…"

"I said go. I’ll expect you to be in our room when I’m finished here."

"And just what do you have to do here?"

"Sniff out a rat. Now buzz off."

El left with a grunt, and Sands waited until his footsteps were out of earshot before settling to the task at hand. Walking to the back of the car, Sands knelt down and felt along the back bumper, around the muffler and anywhere underneath the car within arm’s reach. Not finding what he suspected was traveling with them, he made his way to the front of the car. Searching beneath the front bumper he quickly found what he’d been searching for.

With a quick twist and pull, the object popped free, and Sands stood upright again with it in his grasp. Turning the device in his hands and feeling it out, he came to the conclusion that it was indeed what he’d suspected.

A tracking device.

As he felt out the familiar shell and engraved numbers on the side, he made another disturbing discovery.

The serial number on a Company device had its own code, and there was no mistaking this one. Having used the same kind in his own operations, Sands was familiar with the type of tracker. He opened the back and removed the battery. Unfortunately, it had already given away his position, but he opted not to destroy it.

"I may just decide to use this little bug against you sons of bitches," Sands said under his breath, pocketing the small tracker. He turned around quickly when he heard footsteps approaching.

"We’ve got to stop meeting like this," a female voice said.

Sands smirked, guard on full alert as he answered, "Why Miss 221, don’t tell me that I’m now loitering in front of your car."

"As a matter of fact, you are. It’s to your left. I’ve been meaning to ask your name, seeing as we keep bumping into each other."

Sands sighed, not having the time nor the patience to deal with the woman at the moment. He pushed past her, disregarding her question, and planning on returning to his room in time to make some much needed preparations. Recalling the way he’d come, he retraced his steps back to the hotel entrance, and groaned inwardly when he heard her following. Intent on ignoring her she didn’t gain his full attention until she called out his name in a hushed undertone so that only he could hear. "Sands?"

Sands steps halted abruptly, and he turned on his heel to face her as she quickly caught up to him.

"Why, I thought you didn’t know my name, Sugar," Sands said in a slow drawl, as warning bells sounded in his mind. He grabbed hold of her arm roughly and she yelped as he yanked her closer.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as a gun dug into her ribs.

Leaning in close to her ear, he asked in a whisper, "Who do you work for?"

Taking a deep breath, she tried to remain calm and keep her voice steady while she answered. "Tom. I work for Tom. I can explain…"

Sands cocked his head to the side before tucking his gun back out of sight. His grip on her upper arm remained painfully firm as they walked through the hotel lobby.

"Let’s make this a private performance, in my room," Sands said, walking her towards their destination.

When they arrived at his room, Sands opened the door. "Ladies first," he said, shoving her through the doorway, before he followed her in, and closed the door behind them.

He listened for El, but could hear no signs of his presence as he stepped further into the room, and seized his 9mm from its holster. "I don’t trust you Sugar, nothing personal."

While cocking the gun and aiming it at her, he reached into his pocket and grabbed his cell phone. "I think I’ll give good ol’ Tom a jingle. You’d better hope that you check out darlin’, because if you don’t you’ll be pushin’ up daises from a pine box."

Eyes fixed on the man in front of her, she tried to compose herself as she replied steadily, "I’ll check out." While he dialed, she took a moment to study him. Wearing a tacky novelty T-shirt and jeans, with dark shades covering his eyes, he hardly looked like an Officer for the CIA. Yet, she’d never dealt with a CIA employee face-to-face before, so she conceded that she probably wasn’t the best judge on appearances. Still, if she’d been forced to guess his occupation, she would have thought him a shady Hollywood talent scout. It led her to believe that he could be acting. This Sands was either blind, or playing the part very well. Either way, he was not a man to be crossed, that much was clear.

Sands dialed and let the line ring several times. Tom picked up on the fifth ring and Sands wasted no time in getting down to business.

"Tom. I’ve got a woman here who claims to be my real driver. What’s the name of the driver you sent over?" Sands paused a moment, before moving the cell away from his ear. "What’s your name, Sugar-buns?"

"Ava Hunter."

"Kudos to you, Sugar. You’ve passed the first test. Got a cell phone on you?"

"Yeah."

"Groovy. Tom?" Sands asked, speaking back into the phone. "Give the lady you sent over a call." Sands snapped the cell phone shut. "If that phone of yours rings, I’ll listen to what you have to say. If not…" Sands trailed off, waving his gun. "I wouldn’t want to be you."

Half a minute passed without a sound and Sands clicked his tongue repeatedly. "I don’t hear it ringing."

Taking her phone out of her jacket, she checked to make sure it was on. "It will." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, a tune played from her phone. Heaving a mental sigh of relief, she answered with a curt, "Yeah?"

"Ava?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, it’s me."

"What the hell is going on? Is Sands there?"

"Yup. He’s practicing his aim on me right now but… hey!" She looked up at Sands as he roughly pulled the cell phone away from her.

"It’s her?" he asked Tom.

"It’s her. What…"

Hanging up, Sands tossed the phone back to her. "Spill the beans, Sugar. I’ll give you five minutes to explain how you were lucky enough to bump into me here, and how you fucked up your assignment."

"Well it…" she began, only to be quickly interrupted.

"You tell me it’s a coincidence and your five minutes are history... and incidentally, so are you."

Ava cleared her throat in discomfort. In her line of work she’d met her fair share of intimidating men, but Sands had to be on the top of that list. It was his unwavering calmness that unnerved her, and the air of detachment that laced his tone as he threatened her life seemingly as easily as he breathed. It thankfully reminded her of an old saying, that one can never judge a book by it’s cover, and the thought that he knew exactly what he was doing by dressing the way he did quickly entered her mind.

"I wouldn’t dream of it," Ava said, sitting down slowly on the edge of the nearest bed. "I was waiting for you at the airport, as per my instructions. Tom e-mailed me a picture of you, so I knew what you looked like. After waiting a few minutes, I saw you come out, but before I could approach you someone else beat me to it."

"Jackson," Sands said.

"If that’s the man who’s been pretending to be your driver, then yes. I saw him take your bag, and you get into his car…"

"Why didn’t you say something to me? Approach me? You had the time," Sands cut in, sitting down on the desk chair across from her. He kept the gun trained on her, but flicked the safety back on and she took it as a sign that he was listening.

She leaned towards him, hoping to come off sincere. "Officer Sands, you have to understand…" She paused, her tone dead serious when she continued. "I can hold my own if it comes down to that, but I’m no trained officer or agent. I’m a simple stringer who does the occasional odd job for Tom here and there for some extra cash. I didn’t know if this Jackson guy had other people with him or not, whether he was armed or not… I can’t go up against a whole group of trained gunmen. I’m not Wonder Woman."

Sands snickered, and she hoped that he believed what she was telling him.

"So I opted to follow you and Jackson, feel things out, and wait until I could catch you when no one else could be listening."

"If that is the case, a matter which still remains to be proved, you’re smarter than the average stringer. How about our meeting in the hall? I don’t recall hearing a peep from you about all this, yet you had the chance to tell me."

"I had just seen Jackson and another man enter the room next to mine. Being so close to the room, I didn’t want to risk either of them overhearing. That and…" She bit her lip, knowing that what she was about to bring up was most likely a soar spot, if he wasn’t faking his disability. "If you’ll forgive me, Officer, I was thrown off guard. Tom didn’t tell me that…" She trailed off a moment, studying his reaction or lack thereof, before asking, "Does he know?"

"That I’m blind?" Sands asked, his voice devoid of emotion as he thought about the recent turn of events, and the woman in front of him. "No. I prefer that he’s… kept in the dark, so to speak."

Ava looked at him curiously. She couldn’t read anything from his reaction. Not from his voice, nor his expression. Again she was reminded that this man was no amateur. "Why?"

"Because Sugar… Jackson knew all these nifty little details that could only have been obtained in one of three ways." Sands held up a finger, counting the options as he recited them. "Behind door number one we have Tom ratting me out. I open up door number two, and discover wiretaps on Tom’s phone line. What’s behind door number three you may ask? Well, behind that door is a potentially fatal option for you… because behind it, you are working with Jackson."

"I’m not working for that slime!" Ava protested immediately.

Sands stood and tilted his head as he drawled, "But how do I know for sure?"

Searching for an answer she finally had to admit, "I don’t know."

Sands walked over and sat down beside her, draping an arm over her shoulders, gun still in hand. "If you’re indeed telling the truth, Sugar, then I think you’d be the wiser if you take my advice to heart." He stopped speaking briefly, running the barrel of the gun along her jaw line gently. When he felt her shiver, he knew she understood the danger in the motion.

"And what advice is that?" She asked, her voice only betraying her true fear ever so slightly.

When Sands spoke again his voice was no longer its typical bored drawl, but cold and harsh. "Get the fuck out of this room, get the fuck out of this town, and get the fuck out of Mexico."