Chapter Two
Mozzie wasn't sure how he felt about the situation. He was proud of Neal for his ingenuity, for finding a way to break the ties that bound him, but at the same time worried about the consequences that were sure to follow. He was also somewhat hurt that Neal would have put together something of this magnitude without including him. On top of that, he was angry with himself for placing the call to the Burkes. He hope he'd covered but just the hint of impropriety where Neal was concerned was apt to stir the sleeping giant. Burke had said they had the weekend off; Neal was probably counting on that much of a head start. Hopefully his call hadn't changed that.
How to beat the anklet had been an ongoing project from the beginning but lately it hadn't seemed to be as high a priority as it once had been. That worried Mozzie; he was afraid that Neal had become too attached to Agent Burke and was growing comfortable doing his bidding. When he had made that observation, it had angered Neal more than Mozzie had expected it to. Now he realized he might have been totally off the mark. Maybe Neal was working his own plan all along; a plan he'd chosen, for whatever reasons, to keep to himself.
He'd heard Burke say that Neal had been home at eleven fifteen, and he knew for a fact that was not true. He'd let himself into Neal's apartment, helping himself to a bottle of wine, and waited for Neal to arrive. Several hours and a bottle of wine later, resigned to the fact that Neal's partnership with the Federal Government was again infringing upon his weekend, Mozzie had left.
He'd been more irritated than concerned, assuming Neal was in the middle of something that had delayed him and prevented him from calling. Burke did tend to monopolize his time and had said more than once that he basically owned Neal and could demand he work whenever he wanted him to. Week day, week night and weekend.
He understood Neal's reasons for striking the bargain and the importance of keeping his handler, Peter Burke, pleased. In the beginning, it had been a means to an end. Or more than one end, really. It not only got Neal out of prison, but it offered him an opportunity to find Kate. Neal had used the Suit, but the Suit had also used Neal. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Burke was Neal's ticket out of a cell, but Neal was a way for Burke to boost his career.
After the way the hunt for Kate had ended things had gotten crazy. Neal had gotten crazy. Someone completely opposed to violence had actually gone after a man with the intent of killing him. Mozzie still cringed when he recalled the way he had turned to the Suit for help in that situation. The Suit had been able to stop him but at that point, the relationship could have easily become more trouble than Burke had bargained for. But Burke had found a way to keep Neal out of jail, in his custody, and working with the FBI.
Mozzie had to give the man credit for sticking up for Neal when he could have simply tossed him back into prison. He appreciated that, and he knew that Neal did as well. But it seemed like it had instilled a bit more than gratitude in Neal. Mozzie had been concerned that Neal seemed to want to please Burke more than was necessary to fulfill their arrangement, to somehow win his respect or approval. That, to Mozzie, was a dangerous thing. Peter Burke was an FBI agent. He was all about law and order and following the rules. Neal was, well, he was Neal. No matter how much he wanted to be different, it was only a matter of time until he pushed the boundaries further than his handler could overlook. It was his nature. Mozzie feared that time had now arrived.
"Is Neal home?" He asked the maid when he entered. It would simplify things so much if Neal would just be home. No harm no foul.
"I haven't seen him," she replied, "but that doesn't mean anything. Some weekends we don't see hide nor hair of him. He just hibernates."
Neal's personality was complex and at times contradictory. As social as he could be, he was still a very private person. Mozzie had learned to navigate it for the most part. At times, Neal welcomed company; at others, a glass of wine and a paintbrush was all the company he wanted. There was always more going on beneath the surface than one would guess by his appearance. That, in part, was what made him so good at the con.
June, having heard his arrival, appeared from the adjoining room.
"Hello, Mozzie," she said, "It's nice to see you. Is everything okay?"
"I don't know," Mozzie replied truthfully, "I was supposed to meet Neal here last night, and he didn't show. I just wanted to make sure he had gotten home alright."
"I didn't hear him come in," She said, glancing up the stairs towards Neal's apartment. "But I wouldn't have heard him if he came in late. Have you called him?" She asked.
"Several times," Mozzie answered. "He's not picking up." He dialed the number to Neal's disposable cell. There was still no answer. "I think I'll just go up and check if you don't mind."
If the door to Neal's apartment was locked, even though he could still enter if he chose to, Mozzie never did so. He respected that Neal had his reasons. But as a rule, Neal left his door unlocked, thus indicating that he didn't mind his friend letting himself in.
He reached down and checked the knob; it was unlocked. He opened the door as June appeared behind him.
"Neal?" He called, stepping inside. June followed tentatively.
There was no answer; the apartment appeared deserted. With a glance around, June moved into the bedroom. "His bed hasn't been slept in. He must not have come back after he left yesterday afternoon. Have you called Agent Burke?"
"According to the Suit, Neal was here last night."
"Well, he clearly wasn't," she said, glancing around the empty apartment. "Why does he think he was home, did he talk to him?"
"No," Mozzie said, "He checked the tracking data from the anklet, and it said he was here by eleven fifteen last night."
June's eyes widened at that disclosure. "Do you think Neal found a way to get out of it?" she asked, looking around the room with fresh interest. "Could it be here somewhere?"
"Have you seen Bugsy lately?" He'd never forget the time he found Neal's tracker around the neck of June's pug.
"My dog?" She frowned at the question. "He's downstairs, why?"
"Just checking," Mozzie said under his breath. He glanced around the room again. He was sure if Neal had attached his anklet to a Room Rumba he'd have seen it last night. "Did he say where he was going when he left?"
June shook her head. "I didn't talk to him; I saw him through the solarium window. It was just after five, and as his cab was pulling away, another vehicle pulled up. Two men got out, talked to him a minute, and then he left with them."
"Willingly?" Mozzie asked. Neal running was one thing; Neal being taken was something else altogether.
"Well, as far as I know," June replied doubtfully. "I wasn't watching that closely," she explained, "One minute he was talking to them, and then the next time I looked up, the car was driving away, and Neal was gone."
And Neal was gone.
"Describe them."
Mozzie listened as June recalled as much about the brief encounter she'd seen through the window as she could. Nondescript suits. Dark glasses even though it was a cloudy day. The Men in Black Neal had left with sounded strikingly similar to Federal Agents. June had drawn the same conclusion at the time even though she hadn't realized it. "I thought it a bit odd for him to turn around and leave again without even coming inside, but I just figured something had come up at the office, and Agent Burke had sent them to get him," she finished.
"They do sound like Feds," Mozzie agreed, "but I'm pretty sure the Suit didn't send them. He thinks Neal was here last night."
"If he didn't send them, why were they here?"
"I don't know, but Federal agents would have access to his anklet," Mozzie said, "and someone is obviously tampering with its data."
"Could they just come and get him like that?" She asked, "Without telling Agent Burke?"
"They can do what they please," Mozzie replied sharply. "They're Suits. And since Neal is considered the property of the Federal government, they can do whatever they please with him, too. Just a slight variation on his usual work arrangement."
"No matter what you think about Neal's work arrangement," June had picked up on the bitterness of his statement, "at least when he's working with Agent Burke, you know he's protected. If he's been pulled off by some other agent, who knows what will happen to him."
Mozzie knew very well what could happen when Neal was pulled off by other agents. But something else was bothering him. Federal Agents did have access to his anklet, but Federal agents had the authority to make a call and have it deactivated. And before Neal could be released into the custody of another agent, Peter Burke would have to sign off.
"You know," he said, "there is only one thing more frightening than Neal being taken by Federal Agents."
"What is that?"
"Neal being taken by people pretending to be Federal Agents," Mozzie said. "If some other agency wanted him, Burke would be in the loop. He certainly wouldn't be lounging around his house while they have Neal out doing God knows what. He's too much of a control freak for that."
"Then you need to call him," June said, "and tell him what's going on."
"Once we tell him that the tracking data is wrong," Mozzie warned, "There's no going back. He's going to assume Neal has engineered all this, that he's running. He'll send everyone after him."
"If someone took Neal and is keeping his whereabouts secret, and not allowing him to contact with anyone, something is very wrong. We need for Agent Burke to go after him, don't we?"
"But what if Neal-?" he stopped. What if Neal was running some kind of operation on the side; what if those men were his accomplices? What if he had run?
If Neal had run, Mozzie would be hurt that he hadn't told him his plan, but he would cover for him for as long as he could and keep his mouth shut. But if someone had taken Neal, then his course of action would be completely different. In that instance, the sooner he ran his mouth, the better. If he talked when he shouldn't, he could cost Neal his freedom; if he didn't talk when he should, he could cost Neal his life.
To talk or not to talk, that was the question. Or rather, to call or not to call.
He suddenly remembered; Neal kept his rainy day fund, along with other items he'd need if he had to make a run for it, hidden in a secret compartment in the woodwork of the large ornate mantel. If the items were gone, he'd keep his mouth shut. If they had been left behind, he'd tell Burke everything he knew.
With a glance at June, he moved to the fireplace, his fingers finding the small latch; the door swung open.
If rain had been forecast, Neal hadn't seen the weather report; a stack of bills still occupied the small alcove, along with a manila folder Mozzie assumed was Neal's clean alias. He opened it to make sure everything was there. It was.
He could accept that maybe, just maybe, Neal would plan his exit without telling him. But there was no way he'd blow town and leave his documents and travel money behind.
To call or not to call? The stack of fifties in his hand made his decision.
"Make the call, June."