Alan stared at Martin. "Just like that?" he asked, seemingly unable to accept the swiftness of the decision. "Don't you have superiors to report to?"

"Yes," said Martin dismissively. "But Zaroff has been on our lists for years. After Rainsford, we-" he broke off abruptly, noting the look on Alan's face.

"Rainsford?" asked Alan tightly. "As in, Sanger Rainsford?" His azure eyes had darkened to steel gray, a sure sign of suppressed emotion.

"Yes," said Martin, understanding beginning to dawn. And with it, compassion. "Didn't you know?"

"He told me he wouldn't be giving up the hunt," Alan replied, his face a mask, hands clenching the arms of his chair. The other member of the League stared at him.

"Sanger Rainsford?" asked Mina. "He was a famous hunter, was he not? Reportedly lost at sea when his ship, returning from a hunt in the Amazon, capsized off an island reef in the South Atlantic? I remember reading in the paper, some thirty-five years ago or so . . ."

"He didn't drown," Alan answered. His eyes went to Martin. "He was too good a swimmer, even in the dark and a storm." His suspicions were now confirmed. "Zaroff caught him when he made land, didn't he?"

Martin sighed, moving to stand behind the chair, bracing himself of the back. "We sent him in," he responded. "He joined the League not long before Julia's death, Alan. He was going to tell you, but the accident -"

"I know why he didn't," said Alan tersely. "Get to the point."

Martin glanced at the tension that was apparent in Quatermain's posture, and softened his voice. "He was sent in, on infiltration. He survived - longer than anyone thought he would. He almost escaped, as well - and came so close to killing the General. But we lost contact with him, and the next thing we knew his body was sighted on the shore. We had to sneak in at night, a week later, to retrieve it."

Alan clenched his jaw, sick to his stomach.

Martin tugged at the sleeves of his cream-colored suit jacket, settling it more comfortably across his shoulders. Alan recognized the slight gesture as one Martin adopted when stressed, and made a visible effort to calm himself.

"I - I didn't notify you until we - until we were certain," said Martin, licking his lips to bring moisture into his parched mouth. "You were his next-of-kin, legally - and after Julia -"

"Stop apologizing for something you had no control over," Alan replied, his voice weary.

There was a moment of silence before Jekyll, with his calm proficiency, entered the conversation, diverting the subject to less immediately painful matters. "Where is Zaroff now?"

Martin's green eyes snapped to focus in on him for a moment, before he too relaxed slightly. Pulling aside a curtain hanging from the ceiling, he revealed a current map of the globe. "Here," he said simply, pointing to a small island located to the east of the tip of Africa.

Nemo frowned, standing and walking to the map. He lightly placed a finger on Africa, attempting to approximate the location of the village.

"The hunters were kidnapped from this area, were they not, Mr. Quatermain?"

"Slightly to the north and west of where your finger is, but yes, that's roughly the location of the village."

"I think I see what the Cap's after," interjected Skinner, moving forward to the map as well. "How in bloody blazes does he travel all that distance in scarcely two days?" The invisible man turned to St. Lawrence, who shrugged.

"There isn't much detailed information on Zaroff, outside of his continued existence and rather gruesome practices." Martin's face twisted in disgust.

Skinner snorted. "I don't think much o' your spies," he informed the man.

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" murmured Martin wryly, glancing at the space where Skinner's feet should be visible below the hem of his coat.

Mina stood as well. "Is it possible that he has some type of craft or vehicle that could so swiftly travel the distance?" She glanced at Nemo.

"Nautilus could make the journey in under a day," he responded immediately. "The length of time needed to travel so many miles suggests a lesser level of technology, yet what he clearly does possess is more advanced than the equipment currently available."

"There's no chance he cobbled something together himself?" Tom jumped into the conversation. "Made whatever he couldn't buy?"

"It's possible, but unlikely," said Alan, also standing. He took another drink from the half-empty glass. "His only love is for the hunt. There is, quite literally, nothing else that he feels passion for. And yet - it is impossible to hunt constantly, and he is possessed of a brilliant mind. Lord knows what he does to keep occupied once his - prey - runs out for a time."

Jekyll winced. Alan's face was unyielding, a grim mask of death that even Mina turned from.

"Therefore, we must assume the worst," said Martin.

Skinner raised an invisible brow. "And I thank ye for that burst of cheer," he commented acerbically.

"Mr. St. Lawrence has a valid point," Mina responded, ignoring Skinner's frosty tone. "We have only a vague idea of what exactly we're getting ourselves into. I am confident that Nemo can rival any technology he possesses, however, there is still a large factor of unknown that we must account for."

Nemo inclined his head at the compliment, and Mina's answering smile was a soft acknowledgement of his acceptance.

"Truly, I only think to prepare you," Martin's voice was low.

"What do you know that you have not already told us?" Nemo asked.

"Nothing," Martin sighed. "All I know is what I've told you. This location is where he's currently reported to be holed up."

Alan nodded decisively. "That's where we'll start, then." He looked around the group, and the nods of his companions confirmed their agreement.

"Captain, if you will?" Alan asked, gesturing for Nemo to precede him. The man was the first to leave the room, and Alan the last. St. Lawrence watched them go, and despite the seriousness of their first mission, he was heartened in seeing how well the group worked together, how they protected and shielded one another from harm.