Xaviers!

To aid him in discovering a lead on Will's whereabouts, Tosh had digitized the log book from Roland's butcher shop and loaded it into the Danger Room computer. With a hand gesture, he pulled the data up and expanded it into a glowing wall of words, numbers, and images related to the addresses and businesses in the book.

"Computer, isolate the final 72 hours recorded."

The majority dropped away, leaving a more manageable amount of information behind. Then, he removed everything that was still before Will disappeared.

"If I had to hide a clay man..." he pondered as he studied the information.

The first notable thing was that the last few days' worth of entries were in different handwriting -- indicating that perhaps Finn/Roland/Whoeverhewas was not the one making those records.

Most of the entries were of the same sort as the ones he saw on the labels of the containers back at the butcher shop. The ones that fit the time period best were regular customers:

*The Sheffield Soap Company
*Shearer Candles, Glasgow
*Honest Skincare and Apothecary, Birmingham

There was also one entry which was unique, at least in this book--it seems that they had one shipment, about 24 hours before the X-Teams had gotten there, and hadn't ordered anything else for at least the six months this book covered:

*The Royal Mint

After a little internet searching and a little nose wrinkling, he learned about tallow in British paper currency. That had to be it. Roland hadn't even bothered to cover his tracks, because if they couldn't stop the Mint in time... they'd never be able to find enough of Will to matter.

Tosh immediately took out his phone and dialed the headmistress. Sam would hopefully understand not being first.

"Yes, what is it, Tosh?" her voice clicks into the line.

"I know where Roland sent Will," he said with grim seriousness, "The Royal Mint. I just hope it isn't already too late."

"When?" she asks as she opens another phoneline to call the Royal Mint.

"Shipped out the day before we found Finn."

"Royal Mint, how can we be of service?"

"Yes, hello. I'm calling from EMQS Limited, we're an independently contracted Quality Assurance lab. We just finished our test of a recent batch of tallow and found it to be contaminated with a number of chemicals, likely accidentally introduced during processing. We understand you recently received a shipment from a vendor?"

"That's correct, but it was an independent contractor -- the, uh, 'Hole in the Wall' Industries. They passed all their recent inspections; is this something new?"

"Yes, I'm afraid this one slipped through. Presumably not their fault, it must have gone unnoticed on the supplying farm. We're still investigating, but I wanted to contact you to make sure none of it has entered minting or reached circulation yet. Better safe than sorry, you understand."

"What negative impact might this have on the currency?"

"It might get spread to the populace through the notes."

"...Oh, I see how it is.

I assure you, ma'am, that the amount of tallow used in our notes is slim. This...vegan protest or whatever it is is misguided; it's an insignificant amount and, really, your attentions could be spent elsewhere."

"This is not a protest. I take no issue with the use of tallow in the currency." she says. Of course, in Ashlie's opinion physical currency was outdated to begin with. "I can get a list of the compounds we found if that would help. Some of them are rather potent, even in minuscule quantities."

"I'm afraid it's too late for that. The pressing process began immediately."

"Then can you at least quarantine the batch?"

"Probably not. We're a very efficient organization. The bills are likely already on their way out."

"The one time you would want the government to be inefficient..." she mutters. "They've already turned it into bank notes." she informs Tosh.

"Listen, I need you to at least try and lock this batch down. Hold the bills until we've had a chance to determine if they're safe. I can have someone there for testing within the hour if need be." she tells the person on the phone.

"Who did you say this was again? I'd better check your credentials..." the voice on the other end of the phone said, dubiously.

Ashlie repeats her credentials that, for intents and purposes, seem to check out. Considering she'd pulled them from some actual Quality Assurance company.

"I understand this is greatly inconvenient for you, but I'm sure the United Kingdom is not going to run out of Pound notes within the day."

"I'm very sorry, but for security concerns, I can't stop the process of putting these into circulation. That would take an Act of Parliament. We'll be sure to get our tallow from a different source next time; we thank you very much for your concern."

"Damnit." Ashlie says after disconnecting the call.

"Tosh, they're putting it into circulation. If that happens we will never be able to track it."

As she's talking she pulls up all the information she can on the Royal Mint. Production schedules, deliveries, both incoming and outgoing, anything that would help her determine the batch containing the Will-Tallow, as well as calculating how many bills they could have printed with the amount they received.

ASHLIE could pretty quickly tabulate and cross-tab all the public information, though specifics about money transfer obviously were not available to the general public.

Thanks to the small amount of tallow used in the creation of bills -- and not knowing precisely whether Roland had mixed the tallowill with regular tallow -- the number of bills that could have been printed was highly variable. At a maximum, with some clever deduction and production figures calculated, it could be as high as 1,000,000 notes -- that's 10,000 straps, or 1,000 bricks. If it was that high, that would be difficult to move.

From surveillance camera footage around the mint, there were generally a set departure time for a number of armored trucks and armored train cars simultaneously, with most of them headed to local banks for distribution -- or the airport to send bills to other towns and cities. Roland had picked a good time; the new five-pound notes were getting ready to be shipped out, so there was quite a lot of activity recently in and out of the mint.

It was likely that the Will-notes, assuming they were finished, would be out in the next shipment, which would mean they were currently somewhere in the facility -- a facility not on any public security camera or street view things, much to Ashlie's frustration. Barbed-wire, security cameras, the whole works. Not that it was off limits mind you; there was a reception and guest parking and tours and everything -- but they didn't want robbers casing the place electronically.

"Shit. What do we do? How do we stop it?" Tosh asked, sounding somewhat panicky and hopeless.

"They're refusing to listen to reason, but I'm not sure I can recommend the necessary course of action. I might be able to condone it, because a life is at stake and I would technically be repossessing what is legally mine. It just so happens to have been worked into Pound notes." This was really pushing it and she could pin-point at exactly where in her code this decision was straining against her restrictions. But technically Will, as a substance, was potentially worth significantly more than whatever the Mint could press. And she had some leeway in enforcing these things through the X-Men program. Despite the higher hierarchy of programming in her mind screaming at her over the blatant disregard of the law.

"You're going to have to rob the Royal Mint." She could swear she could hear a logic chip somewhere down beneath the Point overheating and bursting into flames.

It took his comparatively slow meat brain a moment to process what he just heard. Even then he was speechless for yet another moment.

"Did you just... actually say what I think you just said?"

"You heard me. Don't make me try to repeat it. This is money not yet in circulation. We don't intend to keep it. I will find a way to reimburse the production cost to them."

"But... how... I don't... we... prison..." he stammered.

He cleared his throat. "I don't suppose we have a master thief on campus?"

"Miss Weaver has been sneaking out at night and avoiding detection very efficiently, though I do not believe her to be a cat burglar. And Tosh, you don't have to take part in this if you're not comfortable with it."

"I'm not, but... I do have to. If I had gotten to know Will, or actually let Finn tell me more, then maybe I could have... I dunno, done something to prevent this," he said guiltily.

"I was there too, Tosh. We're up against someone with a seemingly limitless amount of knowledge and virtually endless time to prepare for this."

He sighed heavily as some of the weight of the world came off his shoulders.

"I'm still in. You can't go and the team needs someone technologically inclined. I'm the best choice."

"I appreciate it. And I'll give you all the help I can."

"Thanks. I'm definitely going to need it."

---Moments Later---

Tosh pulled out his phone as he headed to the X-Team equipment storage room at a hurried trot. He selected Sam from his contact list and waited for an answer.

Sam picks up quickly when she sees who it is.

"Tosh. What've you got?"

"We found him. But we need to move fast. Meet me in X-Team equipment storage. I'll fill you in then."

"I'll be there," she says, quickly hanging up.

He continued to the storage room and proceeded to scavenge for the gadgets he'd likely need. Heist tools were unsurprisingly in short supply, but he managed to find some devices he could use for hacking a security system and an electronic lock pick easily enough. Sure, he had zero experience with either activity, but he was a genius damn it.

Tosh gets the briefest flash of an angry flock of crows descending on the room. It's not long after that he hears footsteps.

Sam strides briskly down the rows of shelving towards him. By her wild hair and the mantle of feathers protruding from her shoulders, it's not hard to guess her mood.

"Talk."