The woman chuckled as she lead Mary to the black sedan, where Maya waited patiently. Neither women paid any attention to the sirens or the ruckus coming from the warehouse, as though it was of little consequence. "Oh, don't worry about it... Sister Collins, if anything its my manners that are lacking for not introducing myself, when I already know your name, is it not? You may call me Ineni." As they approached, Maya opened the door to the backseat, giving a courteous bow to them, or perhaps only to her employer? Ineni disregarded her and instead turned to Mary. "Please, after you Sister Collins, I will be with you shortly."<br/><br/>While Mary climbed into the car, if she was so inclined, Ineni and Maya exchanged words, once again in that same unknown African language, sounding perhaps a bit too primitive to be spoken in a modern city like Boston. While Mary did not understand a word that was spoken, it was clear that Maya was insecure, stumbling over the words a great deal, while Ineni was perfectly fluent. Whatever they spoke of remained a mystery.<br/><br/>"I do apologize about that; a little bit of business that had to be taken care of," she excused when she finally clambered into the car a few minutes later. Almost immediately the car set into motion, leaving Maya behind on the docks. Ineni crossed her legs, corrected her outfit and then turned to look at Mary, a pleasant smile on her lips as always, eyes beaming with warmth and joy, making it almost impossible not to feel relaxed in her company. "So, will you tell me about this man you saw?"<br/><br/><br/><br/>Back at the warehouse the police had quickly blocked off the only exit. There must have been about two dozen of them, some securing the area outside, while the rest raided the makeshift dance club, all of them armed and wearing bullet proof vests. They were quick and efficient, forcing anyone inside on their knees, hands behind their heads.<br/><br/>David Vallon had seen it all; only a few years away from retirement he had led a long and distinguished career with the Boston Police department. He was well respected, more experienced than anyone else on the force, and he was driven; this time it was personal, he would find his daughter and bring her home and God have mercy on anyone standing in his way. The warehouse was not much of a clue, but at the moment it was all he had to go on, and while he could not prove anything illegal was happening there, he had a strong suspicion it was connected to the cult that had his daughter. Calling in a few favours, making some phone calls, he had managed to get a search warrant for the warehouse, and not wanting anything to slip by him, he had brought as many men as he could. As the officers had taken control of the place, he walked in behind them, a serious frown on his face.<br/><br/>"I want this place searched from top to bottom, ALL OF IT!" He turned his attention to his prisoners. "And all of you motherfuckers are under arrest! Book'em, take them back to the precinct, I want them all interrogated! I want to know everything!" Within seconds Jean-Luc was being manhandled, lifted to a standing position, slammed against a bar counter and put in cuffs, then dragged out into a police cruiser, to be taken away.