On the second day, Ina saw the smoke roiling into the sky before she saw Garden Terrace.

"Woah," Grayson said, "That doesn't look good!"

Ina leaned forward to look over the treetops at the dark billowing cloud. It looked…familiar. When in the twenty some years she had worked with Hestia had she started to recognize her smoke patterns? That ought to be considered a formidable talent in and of itself, she thought, heartened at the idea that her partner might have managed to escape.

"I'm not going to make any definite statements," she said, "But that…could be a good sign."

They reached the bend before the outer gate. Grayson turned around in his seat to look at the empty spot where Ina was. "You say it's a good sign; do you still want to go ahead with the plan?"

Ina looked at the smoke. If Hestia was creating chaos for her, she wouldn't appreciate Ina getting cold feet and passing on the opportunity. "I'm ready."

Grayson grinned. "Right."

Moments later, a tan sedan pulled up to the security gate and what appeared to be Mr. Appledore pulled up to the gate. He leaned out the window, red-faced, waving a plastic card that, at a distance and clutched in a furiously gesticulating arm, looked like a Garden Terrace ID.

"What the heck is going on?!" He shouted. "I get a call ten minutes ago and I come to this?! Let me inside at once!"

"Yes, sir!" the security guard yelped, and the tan sedan zoomed through the gates. In the back seat, Ina smiled and Grayson/Appledore tucked his Pentagon security card back inside his coat. Inside again. She followed the supposed Mr. Appledore as he stormed up the sidewalk and stepped into the smoke-filled foyer behind him.

The foyer, despite the flashing red lights and the thick haze of smoke, was vacant. Ina frowned. Hestia had a sense of the dramatic; it was odd that she wasn't here to present Ina with her excellent cover. The computer at the receptionists' desk was a melted lump of plastic, occasionally spitting sparks and adding an acrid smoke to the already clouded air. Ina took a step back. "There's something wrong."

Grayson nodded. "Where's security? Where are the residents?"

The silence was immense. Ina knew you could hear more life going on in the building if you stood in the foyer at midnight. And then something hard and cold poked into her back.

"Put your hands up." A voice said.

Terrified, but knowing her own capabilities, Ina turned her head, keeping her back as still and straight as possible, and saw a Garden Terrace security guard, visor down, holding her at gunpoint.

He'd known. He'd known right where she was standing. A cold trickle of fear dropped into her stomach.

"Invisible Woman," said the security guard, "you are under arrest for treason against the United States of America."