Beatrice carefully worked her way south and west. She entered Lake Harding, a reservoir on the Chattahoochee, at a fingerling near Antioch.

Carefully moving downriver and through Lake Oliver she stopped at the North Highlands Dam. The dam itself was no barrier but the area beyond had developed and changed so much since her last trip that she was worried about finding enough cover. She backtracked and entered Alabama at a secluded spot. If you can't go through, go around.

The fake agents J and K were camped out in a boat house on the on the northwest shore of the sparkling clear waters of Lake Blackshear. K, the older man, whose name was Tommy, had a map spread out on an upside down boat. Water lapped the pilings as J (Rob) paced the narrow boardwalk. "She could be anywhere by now," Rob complained. "We are wasting time."

"We know where she is going. We know when she needs to be there. There are only so many ways for her to go. We'll find her."

"I think we need to activate the network," Rob stated.

"And tell them what? 'A critter that looks something like a Varanidae Pogona may be passing through your backyard. Do not try to pet it?'." Tommy snorted. "It will be on every news channel within the hour. The network is not secure. Not for something like this." He smoothed the map. "We know where Beatrice is going," he stabbed the map with a gnarled forefinger. "Our job, our only job, is to see that she gets there on time. C'mon, lets go." Tommy grabbed up the map and headed towards the car, catching Rob by surprise.

Rob stuck his phone in a pocket, scooped up a backpack and hurried to catch up. "Where are we going?"

As Rob got to the car, Tommy was already on the radio. "...and I want to get every report from here to the Florida line. Dogs barking in the night, kids drawing crayon monsters, strange shadows passing a window, all of it."

"You got it, Tommy," a tinny female voice responded. "How's Rob doing?"

Tommy looked over at Rob and raised his eyebrows, "You got a thing going with Sheila?"

Rob shrugged and looked embarrassed. Tommy keyed the mike, "Ahh, he tripped and broke his leg. I had to shoot him."

Sheila laughed but it sounded strained, "Go easy on him, Tommy. It's his first mission. I'll get started on these alerts. Central out."

Tommy paused before starting the car. He thought back to when he first started A.S.S. He had a fascination with cryptids as a kid. Nessie was his favorite wall poster. His college classmates all thought it was a joke; Association to Save the Sea Serpents. But, hey, anything for a party. Only a few close friends knew he was serious. He wanted it that way. He cultivated the fringe elements for cover. He even published a quarterly blog based on far-out Nessie sightings and other Lake Monsters.

All of it was necessary so he could do his life's work; cataloging and preserving the real sea serpents. And he had done it! Beatrice's mother had been his first confirmed rescue.

Now, years later,  he had come full circle and Beatrice needed him. He would not fail her.