"What's taking them so long?" Mr. Benagh asked impatiently.

"This is vital information, Benagh. These things can't be rushed."

Mr. Folken was perfectly calm, leaning against the big, black, piano in the huge mansion on the top of the hill.

"Well what if it isn't vital and we're ringing our hands out for nothing?"

"We?" Mr. Folken asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Alright, while 'I'm' ringing my hands out."

Mr. Folken just pulled a cigarette out of his jacket and lit it, sitting down on the piano seat.

"Folken, what are you doing?"

"Music calms the nerves." He said, and he started to play. Of course, the one he chose was Danse Macabre. The tune didn't help Benagh at all. But Folken knew that. Benagh was spoiled and use to getting his way. When he had hired Folken he didn't realize how disciplined he was. If Folken wanted to do something Benagh couldn't stop him.
And Folken knew it.

After about fifteen minutes of the nerve-wrecking tune, Folken's spy came in.

"Well?" Benagh asked impatiently.

The spy looked toward Folken with a questioning look and Folken nodded.

"Sir, there is no one in any of the schools that matches the photo you gave me."

Folken walked back and forth, stroking his chin while he thought.

"Stay there. Keep looking. Maybe she's just taking a sick day or something."

"Yes Sir." The spy said, bowing. Then he walked out of the door.

"I told you it wouldn't work." Benagh accused.

"Patience, Benagh. Patience. We'll find her yet. We've got to."

-Sorry this one is so short but that's all I could tell you at the moment. Hope you liked it :D- Anna