The sum crept low on the horizon by the time Gabriel had made any progress on the case. While he had definitely made progress, he didn't really like the direction the case was heading in. In one word, it was trouble. Duffel bag long abandoned, the Warden was now dressed in official attire. The gray cloak had replaced his stylish blazer and the gladius was strapped to his left hip while his Colt adorned the right side.<br/><br/>With a small effort of willpower, the Celtic cross around his neck began to emit a glow and lit up the paper he'd written several names on hours ago. The writing was barely legible thanks to the blood smeared across the page. Gabriel grimaced at it and tucked it away in a pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping some of the blood from his eyes. A gash on his forehead steadily bleed, a memento from a formerly loyal contact from the Never Never.<br/><br/>His held tilted up suddenly and Gabriel sniffed at the air like a hound, turning his head towards the wind. "Idiots... You should always approach prey from down wind." He dashed away to avoid his pursuers and, finally, came to a rare phone booth once they had been lost. Shoving change into the machine, he called the number Catherine had left. Once he had finally been answered, he blurted out hurriedly, "Don't speak yet. I've found something but we need to talk in person. There's a coffee shop in Manhattan called The Elk. 128 Charles St. Meet me there in 40 minutes." Without waiting for an answer, Gabriel hung up and left.