This is an ongoing story as part of National Novel Writing Month 

Meanwhile back on the ground, Ford deflated his seersucker impact-resistant damage prevention suit, brushed himself off, and began the long trek back towards the city center. He pulled out a sub-phone and called Chong.
“They bought it Chong.  They’ll both be occupied on the false tasks you assigned them– Yes, yes, no suspicions at all – very good.  I’ll see you back in Libreville.”
He eventually found the vehicle they’d hidden and flew back into the Oloumi district. Chong was waiting in an empty warehouse, where they had been holed up for the last few days. Ford found him at a deskset, prowling through some data one of the Ford clones had delivered early that morning.
“Did they look all right?” Chong asked as soon as he noticed Ford was back.
“Yes, yes. A little weary, but otherwise fine.”
“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
“But it’s working. We almost had them here. don’t worry, son.  Baghdad will deliver them to us.”
Chong turned back to the data, muttering.
“Try not to get too lost in that, we need to be in Cana soon.”
Chong waved a hand meaning he knew and he wouldn’t. The two men had developed a fairly nice rapport over the past week or so. Chong was still put off by the clones, especially the one that had tried to kill him.  He wasn’t too sure that Ford didn’t still wish to kill him. But he actually liked the original Ford.
Their strategy had formed on the fly in Caracas.  It almost worked there. So they had given it a try in Libreville as well. They’d had less success but not because the plan was bad. They hadn’t counted on a rubber shipment arriving and sucking up all the available labour.  They’d had to do all the footwork themselves.
The plan was elegant in its simplicity and Chong had to credit Ford with most of its construction. The killer Ford was assumed to be still working for the Fundy faction. They would send him out to plan an assasination attempt on Chong, based on the knowledge of the appearances. This would lead them to real Fundy-related contacts. The original Ford would then meet with thos contacts, pretending to be a high-level Fundy himself.  He would attempt to draw out one of the leaders and hence discover the headquarters of the clone movement.
In Caracas, they had pinned down the identity of the chief scientist.  He was hiding out on the Moon in the independent Cana colony. In Libreville they were hoping to get the name of the logistical head. With those two, Ford felt sure he could bluff his way into finding out the headquarters location.  However, because of the lack of help, they had missed a meeting with the Gabon cell chief of the Fundy clone movement and aroused suscpicions. Chong had come up with the idea of egtting Lawrence and Malinao to create some distractions to throw the Fundys off the scent. Ford had insisted that Malinao and Lawrence be led to believe what they were doing was real, in order to preserve the appearance of a real UMC movement against he Fundys.  This would have the negative affect of the Fnudys believing the UMC was aware of them,and this make the more secretive.  However, Ford believed he had gained enough trust not to worry too much, and hoped that it would also cause the logitical chief to make some moves he might not otherwise make, and reveal some intelligence.
The killer Ford clone was already ont he ground in Baghdad and had sent back reams of data onthe Arabian Fundy cells.  More than Chong or Ford could have hoped for, and unfortunately more than they could work through before they had to get to Cana to meet with the chief Fundy scientist.
“Dump it, Chong. Ford 3 can comb it for any other relevance back in Oakland.” Ford had his gear on and was heading towards an unmarked car parked at the rear of the warehouse.
Chong unwillingly logged off after a sending a message to Oakland. He knew they needed to hurry.  They would not be able to take an elevator. Instead they would catch a Moon flight from Lagos, Nigeria, probably connecting in Cairo, to Houston de la Luna, the major spaceport in the UMC. From there they’d take the M train through Armstrong out to Cana.
Cana was the only permanent colony on the Moon that was not part of the United Moon Colonies. It had a religious history and therefore was a popular hideout for Fundys.  But their refusal to associate with the Fundys had made it somehwat neutral ground during the war.  Now, Cana was having trouble keeping the former Fundys out.  Somehow though, the Scientist Sridat Patel had found his way in and was conducting high level experiments in Cana undetected.  It was from there that Ford duspceted his wife’s clone had originated.
After hours of grueling travel the M train finally deposited Ford and Chong in the spartan but clean Cana terminal. The still had an hour before their meeting with Patel in the Cana central plaza. They decided to get a meal, which was no easy task in Cana.
Restaurants per se were forbidden in Cana, based on some interpretatin of some particular religions precepts. It was deemed unseemly for one to require others to bring you food prepared by someone unseen in exchange for money. Something about it being to close to prostitution. That didn’t mean there was nowhere to eat in Cana, it just meant you had to know who was cooking your meal.  That could be trouble for two people trying to keep a secret identity.
However Cana did now suffer some tourism, a decadence decried by the conservatives in their government.  For that reason, a small industry of introductory services had popped up that would lead you to places to eat.  All in all it meant you got to find a nice restaurant with good food at a reasonable price, it just took you two hours to do it, and Ford and Chong didn’t have two hours.
Instead they would have to either ferret out a semi-legal food stand, or push through the crowd at an open market bazaaar.  A bazaar was not considered the least bit sinful, as long as 10 percent of the profits went to the Cana Assistance Department for feeding the hungry. If you could get through the crowds, you could find some pre-prepared foods masquerading as groceries. This could also eat up time, depending on the crowd size.
In the end Ford and Chong decided to risk a food stand. Patrons rarely got arrested at the food stands, especially if they appeared to be from out of town. The owners of the stands were adept at becoming old friends with you before they prepared your meal. It wasn’t an ideal situation for two men with a cover story, but they were hungry and figured the risk was small.
A large burly man with a moustache stood at an unmarked counter along a side street off the main plaza thoroughfare.  He eyed their hungry faces immediately.
“Hello old friends,” he shouted in the traditional call of the Cana food vendor. “Come come and sit and say hello.  It’s been ages.”
Ford and Chong liked the smells coming form the place and decided to sit.
“Boris welcomes you back to Cana.”
Chong knew how this went and he led. “John her and myself Frank are so glad to be back.”
The man smiled at Chong’s knowledge of the game.  This would make things much easier.
“John and Frank, what a pleasure to lay eyes on you,” Boris said taking each of them by the shoulder in the Cana greeting.
“But can you stay and sit awhile and catch up with old Boris on your business?”
Again Chong knew the patter. “Of course.  Our trading in textiles goes well. We hope to make a deal for distribution this week, if all goes well. My salesman here has the gift of gab.  I thnk everything’s going to go great. As a mid-level manager he makes my life so much easier.  But he has no wife or kids to burden him, like my wife Sarah and our two boys Jim and Bob.”
Ford admired the ease with which Chong weaved the story. Chong wondered if Ford knew this was a standrad story used for quick eating.  It was often possible to find a stand with the three textile dealers chatting about their wives all named Sarah.
Boris grinned, especially pleased at Chong’s adeptness with the story.
“But I am sor ude, won;t you stay and eat with me. It is the least I can share with you in my poverty.  It has been six days a piece I have been toiling with my troubles.”
This meant they could pay six coins each for their food.  Chong nodded acceptance and Boris disappeared.
“So what kind of food do we get?”
“Whatever Cana provides,” Chong said. “That’s the tradeoff with the speed of a food counter. You don’t get to pick.
Boris came back smiling widely with two bowls of nooodles, sauce and some kind of cooked meat. Just then a couple tentatively approached.  They seemed to be first-time tourists from somewhere in the UMC.
“Hello old friends,” shouted Boris as he went over to welcome them.
Ford and Chong ate silently.  The food was hot and greasy but very good.  A thick meal that would keep them full for awhile. Chong chuckled as he caught snatches of the conversation between Boris and the tourists.  They were far from adept at this game and Boris was bending over backwards to take their orders without breaking the law. At one point he heard Boris muttering lowly to the tourists, probably instructing them what to say next.
Unfortunately for Boris a Canaan constable happened to be strolling by and this caught his attention.
He approached the three and began berating poor Boris.  The tourists were dumbfounded and could hardly speak, which was probably lucky, because if they had spoken it might have landed Boris with a fine or a night in prison. After Boris identified them as his old friends Lois and Juan, the constable asked for their IDs.
“Uh-oh,” Chong said. “The diners never get in trouble but we will have to show an ID to see if old Boris is tellign the truth.  That could prove complicated.  Let’s go.”
They both regrtefully left their half-eaten bowls on the counter along with 12 coins Chong had withdrawn from his account at the train station. The constable noticed their hurried departure and shouted after them.
“Run!” Chong yelled and made for an alleyway.  He knew the constable wouldn’t chase after them long for such a petty offense.  He’d probably suspect they were scared tourists.  Chong made the corner and turned around in time to see Ford lying down on the side of the road holding his leg as the constable approached with his club held out. In no time, Ford was cuffed and being escorted away by the constable.
Chong thought about running after him, but he knew it would blwo his cover.  Thank god it was Ford that got nabbed though.  Chong felt a pang of guilt over this, but Ford had legit ID and experience getting out of these situations. As long as the constable was satisfied with this story and didn’t run a UMC check on him they’d be fine.  If he did run a UMC check, which Cana didn’t always so, certainly not for a petty thing like this, but if they did, they’d find a high priority presidential warrant out for Ford.
In Cana that could mean he’d be extradited, or it could mean they’d decide to try him under Canaan law.  If they did that, he’d be executed.
Chong let out a brief sigh. That would take weeks, and hopefully Chong would be able to rescinf the order by then.  But it made things extremely complicated.
“Mr. Dewitt?” a man had appeared out of nowhere at Chong’s side.  He paused for a moment before remembering that Dewitt was the name he had given the Fundys.
“Who wants to know?”
“I’m Mr. Patels’ assistant. I saw what happened to Mr. Baker.  I’ll see what we can do.  In the meantime would you come with me?”
“I have busines sin the plaza,” Chong said, being careful in case this wasn’t Patel’s man after all.
“Plans have changed.  You’re to come with me.”
Chong noticed the assistant held a small charge gun at gut level.
“I guess I’ll come with you then,” said Chong, absurdly wishing he could go back and finish the bowl of noodles.