Undercovers

Okay... this is big. Like female Russian weightlifter big. Just got a call from Agent Bloom. The fact that he has my number would be enough for celebration, but he wanted more. Incidentally, when he calls, this picture of him in a beret comes up on the screen. He didn't know I took it. I call it candid. He'd call it creepy. Can't talk about the mission yet. But it does involve Leo Nash. On my way to Mexico City.

Just finished updating the Blooms on Agent Nash's cell signal. Just found something out. Apparently, this is not a sanctioned mission. Unauthorized. Unofficial. Not allowed. You get the point. Shaw has no idea we're here. Which is fine. I look more to Agent Bloom for guidance than Shaw. There's also the fact that Shaw seems to hate me. And has called me Hoyle, Voight and Hope on the last three missions. For some reason I can't quite pinpoint, there's a spring in my step. Oh wait, I know exactly why. Working rogue with Agent Bloom. Are you kidding me? A dream come true.

Just found Agent Nash. Lying in a hotel room, looking plastered. Oh, and there was a dead woman there with him. Almost forgot that. Now we need to find out what happened since Agent Nash can't remember a thing. Unless he's lying. Which I can tell he's not. I've sort of been studying Agent Bloom's human lie detector technique and I think I've got it down. For example, that woman at the car wash the other day? Totally being honest when she said she had plans that night in Boston.

Found a dog in the hotel room. Seems kind of mangy. But cute. My parents wouldn't let me have a dog when I was a kid. They said I wasn't responsible enough to feed and walk a dog every day. You let one gerbil die by mistake and you're marked for life.

Okay, off to figure this out. Time to practice my Spanish. Adios.

Bienvenidos! In Peru now, in a van with Agents Bloom and Nash. I'm having some stomach pains, but trying to fight through it. It must have been the "alpacas y cuyes," which I had earlier. I was told it was akin to surf and turf but as it turns out, it's alpaca meat rolled around a whole guinea pig. Normally I wouldn't eat something so cute but when it comes to my idols, I'm very susceptible to peer pressure. I gotta say, it was oddly delicious. But now I'm paying for it... ow.

Since Italy (and Tessa) I've been a little in the dumps and second-guessing my Mrs.

Hoyt-dar. And what's the best remedy for a CIA tech in a slump? How about being thrown in a van with Agents Bloom and Nash! It's been a riveting masters course in the female brain. It's a puzzle wrapped in an enigma soaked in secret sauce. But my game's officially been bumped up from "novice" to "amateur." If Agent Bloom ever needs a wingman, I'm ready. Vegas here we come!

In Rio, heading off to a nightclub to help Steven get in touch with Ivanov. Shirt open, airing out the pecs. I don't know why I don't try this look more often; something about it feels so... right. Maybe it was the 10 pushups I did before I got in the car, but I've been getting some looks on this drive. Hello girl in the orange dress. Standing on the street corner, giving me the nod. Ooh, she smiled at me. She's walking this way. Nice figure.

Strong legs, big shoulders, adam's apple, okay that's a man... Note to self: open collar attracts wrong crowd. We're here. Back to work --

I've been looking through family photos for a few hours now, trying to find our killer - one thought - take less photos. There's no good reason to take so many pictures of yourself. The one obvious exception being the yearly Hoyt clan Thanksgiving Costume

Contest. When Uncle Jerry came as John Hancock and Uncle George came as Robert

R. Livingston? Awkward! Who'd remember without a snapshot? Wait a second, who's that in the back of that shot? He looks familiar... oh, wait! Gotta go.

More later...

Thrilled to be here. Simply put, Tuscany is picturesque. Between the scenic landscapes, rich culture and beautiful maids, there are plenty of pictures of perfection. But one particular portrait has caught my attention. Introducing my mission crush: Tessa. Our maid at the villa. Well not exactly a maid. She just looks like a maid. Not that anyone looks like a maid... she's just dressed like a maid. But she's really an agent... I call her Tess. For short. Well, not yet, but I will once we're dating, if we date - when we date... I'm exhausted.

Quality bedsheets, but my back hurts. Flabbergasted that a palatial villa like this would opt for thread count over mattress quality. We could use better lighting in our room. That's right... I said OUR! Apparently a genie with his own lamp has been listening to my wishes and combined his three with my three because I'm rooming with Mr. Agent Steven Bloom. It's more than a wish to the sixth power... it's a dream. NO... A fairytale!

Classy pool. No diving board though, but that's probably for the best. This crowd couldn't handle my Jacknife. It would be famous. Not infamous, like Xerxes. What kind name is Xerxes anyway? Hardly screams biological weapons dealer. Xs in general, not a fan. Lost a third grade spelling bee to an "x." Started "Xylophone" with a "z". Oh god, now I'm thinking about the other Xs... how many poor souls did Tessa leave in her wake? I don't want to think about those right now either. It's game time.

I had hoped my first time slapping handcuffs on a beautiful girl would have been under completely different terms, but I gotta say, it still felt pretty amazing. She'll miss me though. Sure of it. I saw her staring at me from the backseat and, I confess, I flexed a little bit. A really quick gun show, no big deal. In case she wants something to think about in prison. What can I say, heroism agrees with me. And ladies... alert the media - I'm single... still.

More later...