Chapter 3
Sara drove up Meadowbrook Street, spotting Neal and Hope in the distance as they put the finishing touches on Neal's annual outdoor Christmas display. To Sara's chagrin, ever since they'd moved to White Plains, Neal had morphed into one of those suburbanites who delighted in decorating their front yard with gaudy Christmas lights and over the top decorations - the flashier, the better. Of course, it didn't help that the neighborhood held an annual house decorating contest which only served to exacerbate her husband's still very much alive competitive streak and seemed to have robbed him of his usual great taste in all things. Neal had been adamant this was 'his' year, considering his recent acquisition of a giant Santa pulled by all nine of his reindeer - which was now displayed prominently right on their front lawn for the whole world to see. Sara blinked at the gaudy display; you could probably spot that damn thing clear from outer space!
'Daddy! Mommy's home!' Hope called out as the car came up the driveway.
'Wow!' Sara said as she stepped out of the car - although the tone of her voice left her exclamation up to interpretation.
'You like it?' Neal asked, his chest pumped up and a proud smile on his face.
'It's… something, that's for sure' she said as she made her way to deposit a kiss on the top of Hope's head.
A nondescript car drove by the house without attracting the attention of either one of them - thanks to those really scary looking reindeer.
'You hungry?' Neal asked as he kissed his wife hello. 'Dinner's ready.'
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The White Plains Mall was overflowing with last minute shoppers as Neal drove around the parking lot a fourth time, keeping his eyes peeled for an available spot. He spotted a car leaving and made his move - even though the location of said parking spot meant a five minute walk back to the main entrance.
'You excited about seeing Santa?' Sara asked as she and Neal held Hope's tiny hands and made their way inside.
'Yes…' Hope said hesitantly. Maybe she'd gotten it all wrong, maybe Santa wasn't sick after all. She was about to see for herself and she felt butterflies fluttering around her stomach as they approached the entrance to the mall.
The trio fought the crowds and made it to Santa's Workshop, only to find a sign saying Santa was out feeding his reindeer and would be back in fifteen minutes.
'I can stand in line with her if you want to run a couple of errands' Neal offered as Sara checked out the nearby stores.
'Great. I have a couple of surprises I still need to get' she said as she wagged her eyebrows at Neal.
'Oh, and honey, don't forget to ask Santa for something special for me' Sara said to her daughter before walking away. 'Maybe something sparkly…' she added as she winked at Neal.
Sara had never been very subtle when it came to dropping hints but, over time, Neal had learned to ignore her, preferring to trust his gut when it came to gifts for his wife - so far, his instincts had never let him down.
'You're being awfully quiet, sweet pea' Neal said as he picked Hope up in his arms and touched her forehead, checking for signs of fever. 'Are you sure you're feeling alright?'
Hope nodded, eyes peeled on the giant chair that awaited Santa's return.
'Do you know what you want to ask Santa for Christmas?' he added.
She shrugged. Something was definitely not right, Neal thought. Hope could never be described as quiet or reserved and yet, here she was, looking like she was about to step into the dentist's chair instead of Santa's lap.
After what seemed like an eternity, old St Nick was finally spotted, trudging his way back to his chair. Even from a distance, Hope could hear him coughing and she winced in response.
It took another fifteen minutes or so for the two of them to make their way to the front of the line and Neal had become increasingly excited in stark contrast to his daughter who continued to stare suspiciously at the big guy in the red suit.
'It's your turn next!' Neal called out gleefully as he set her down and patted her on the head, sending her on her way.
'Daddy, I don't know if I want to talk to him…' Hope moaned, uncharacteristically shy.
'What? But you were so excited to see him' Neal said. 'Go on, it's your turn, baby. I'll be right here, waiting.'
Hope hesitantly started the short walk towards the old man in the red suit. She could hear him coughing loudly as she drew near and she watched with interest as he turned to speak to the little elf in green who stood nearby with a bucketful of candy canes.
'Can you please get me something to drink' he said, his voice boisterous. 'I'm dying here!'
Hope's mouth flew open and she stopped walking, dead in her tracks. She looked back at her dad, waving to her, and the next thing she knew she was flying back to the safety of his arms and she'd hidden her face shamelessly in the crook of his neck.
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'Why do you suppose she's acting this way?' Sara asked as the couple lay in bed later that night. 'She wasn't like this last year.'
'I don't know' Neal admitted. 'It was like she'd seen a ghost. She got halfway there and she came running back into my arms and held on to me like she was afraid he was going to sic his elf on her.'
'Maybe it's just a phase she's going through' Sara said. 'Remember how she was afraid of trick or treating a couple of years ago.'
'I suppose...' Neal responded, sounding worried.
Sara stretched out on her back, lazily running her hand over her protruding stomach.
'Okay, now that was definitely a kick' she said as she grabbed Neal's hand and placed it on her baby bump just as the subtle movement came to an abrupt end.
'I just caught the tail end of that' Neal said with a goofy smile as he turned in bed to place his face up against his wife's belly. 'Hey baby boy, do it again. Come on, do it again for Daddy' he pleaded as Sara rolled her eyes.
'Oh, you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout…' Neal sang softly as he ran his hand up and down Sara's belly to the rhythm of the holiday tune.
Sara giggled and the baby moved once again and this time Neal felt the ripple effect, his hand lingering on Sara's belly.
'See' Neal declared proudly as he kissed her stomach. 'I told you he liked my singing.'
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On Tuesday morning, Neal saw his wife off to work and set off to get his daughter to school. It was the last day before Christmas break and they'd all been looking forward to the holiday concert at Hope's school that evening. Peter and Elizabeth were all set to join them and even Uncle Mozzie had promised to be there for the big night.
Neal had spent - or was that wasted - two and a half hours the previous day, following his wife to a meeting at a client's home out on Staten Island. He'd noticed the same, nondescript FBI agent lurking around and, once again, he'd barely escaped his clutches as the two of them scurried from the scene once Sara reemerged from the large estate in Todt Hill. The inept agent had given chase but had been no match for the ex-con and Neal had managed to slip away, disappearing from sight while Inspector Clouseau scrambled to catch up with him.
The mystery deepened and Neal was intent on finding out why the Bureau would be following Sara to a routine meeting with a client. If the FBI felt the need to follow his wife, she must be on to something pretty dangerous and this spurred Neal on even further to figure out what this was all about.
Neal had the distinct impression that whatever mysterious case Sara had been keeping from him, it would be wrapping up any minute. She'd been particularly restless for the past day or so - as she always was before a big recovery - and his spider senses were tingling like crazy, telling him she was on the verge of moving in for the kill. He sure as hell hoped it would happen soon; with school out, he couldn't very well see himself dragging Hope along on any recon operations - the kid had loose lips and…. well, everybody knew what loose lips did.
Neal checked himself out in the mirror, looking very unlike himself, clad in a nondescript grey jacket with a baseball cap on his head and a pair of large, clunky glasses that masked most of his face. His disguises had grown more and more elaborate as time went on, all in the hopes of remaining incognito. Regrettably, Mozzie's paranoia seemed to have rubbed off on him…
If he was going to keep his wife safe without her knowledge, he'd have to keep a safe distance yet be ready to pounce at a moment's notice - if the situation so required. If everything went according to plan, she'd make the recovery without incident and she would never need to know he'd been lurking in the wings the whole time. Neal knew all too well that if Sara ever got wind of his covert operation, he would find himself on her naughty list - something he wanted to avoid at all costs.
He took one last look at the man in the mirror and headed out to Manhattan to start surveilling his wife.
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'You let him slip away again! Who is this guy, Houdini?' Peter Burke roared as his probie cowered nearby. 'I have a good mind to take you off surveillance and put you on desk duty - indefinitely.'
'Agent Burke, please' Wilson begged. 'I've got this; please give me another chance.'
'This guy has slipped out of your grasp twice now' Peter declared, unnecessarily.
'Sir, he hasn't made any moves on Ms Ellis and you can count on me to keep her in my sights. Nothing's going to happen to her on my watch, I swear' the hapless man pleaded.
Peter paced back and forth behind his desk and ran a hand through his greying hair. Apparently, Sara's intuition that she was being followed had basis in fact. Peter thought of Neal and how he would absolutely kill him if something happened to Sara when Peter knew all along she was being followed. He looked up to see the probie, standing there, quaking in his boots.
They were closing in on Sullivan - the man had been spotted once again talking to his fence and all indications were that a swap was imminent. With just a few days until Christmas, Peter needed all his staff on the case and didn't have the manpower to put anybody else on Sara; instead, he decided to put the fear of God in the newbie agent.
He walked around the desk, getting close enough to the man to kiss him and he put his finger up to his face, wagging it menacingly. 'If something happens to Sara Ellis, I will hold you personally responsible and I will see to it that your life is miserable for the next twenty-five years. Is that understood?' he shouted.
'Yes, sir. You can count on me. Nothing will happen to her and I'll get this guy, I swear, sir' he said as he shook in his wingtips.
'Go!' Peter shouted as all eyes down in the bullpen turned to see what all the commotion was about.
Peter took a deep cleansing breath, staring down at his phone and debating which was worse: the wrath of Sara Ellis if he ratted her out or the ire of Neal Caffrey if he ever found out his best friend had been holding out on him. He wavered for a moment and picked up the phone.
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Neal was sitting in a little diner across from the offices of Sterling Bosch, waiting for Sara to make an appearance when his phone rang. He glanced down: Peter… he would just have to wait. He couldn't afford to take his eyes off his target, even for a minute. Sara could appear and slip away if he wasn't careful and he couldn't afford to be sloppy when there was so much at stake. Upon taking his position by the window, Neal had immediately spotted Inspector Clouseau conspicuously hanging around the entrance of the office building, trying to keep warm while he ostensibly waited for Sara to emerge - the master of discretion this guy was not!
At around 1:30, Sara stepped out onto the sidewalk, and even from a distance, Neal recognized the fierce determination in her eyes. This was it and Neal threw a couple of bucks on the table and headed out, making sure the clueless tail didn't spot him.
Game on.
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'Peter, Ronnie the Shark is making a move' Jones announced breathlessly as he stepped into Peter's office.
Peter grabbed for his coat jacket, his blood pumping. Hopefully, this was the beginning of the end for Sullivan; he'd jerked the FBI around long enough.
'Let's go, people!' he called out.
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A procession of cars, coming from all different directions, descended on the abandoned Navy Hospital in Brooklyn. The majestic building, built in Greek Revival style circa 1830, sat loftily on Williamsburg Street, a mere shadow of its former self. It had been unused for decades yet it still stood proudly despite the peeling paint, leaks and damaged wood and plaster one could spot when looking through the dirty windows from the nearby street.
Dick Shearer sat in a cab, on his way to making the illicit purchase of Botticelli's 'The Annunciation' for an obscenely rich client of his from the Hamptons. The 1489 painting had disappeared from the Uffizi Gallery in Florence fifty years earlier and had recently resurfaced on the black market. He hoped for a quick and painless transaction and he nervously tapped the top of the briefcase which sat on his lap, aware of the ridiculous sum of money hidden therein - a precursor to the commission he stood to make on the transaction. He smiled as he spied the many shoppers out on the busy sidewalks of downtown Brooklyn and he thought ahead to his own priceless shopping spree.
Ronnie the Shark made his way to the drop on foot. The night before, he'd managed to slip his FBI tail long enough to obtain the goods from Jerome Sullivan in a dark deserted alley in the Bronx. Despite his eagle eye, he hadn't spotted the new tail which he'd grown and was presently walking a block behind him, having alerted Agent Peter Burke of the imminent transaction. The tempera and gold wood painting which was relatively small, was tucked under Ronnie's left arm as he made his way to the appointed location and dreamt of his plans for his healthy cut of the profits. The streets were full of last minute Christmas shoppers and Ronnie looked just like anyone who'd made the purchase of a small painting as a gift for his wife or girlfriend… or maybe, his mother.
Sara Ellis sat in the big yellow cab as it left Manhattan and headed out to Brooklyn. She'd noticed her FBI tail standing nearby when she'd left the Sterling Bosch offices and she hoped he was right behind her. If anything went wrong or if the person who'd been stalking her materialized, she'd have someone from the Bureau nearby to keep things from going south. She could feel the blood pumping through her veins at the thought of the important recovery she was about to make. There would be a big commission for her, to say nothing of the bragging rights associated with recovering such an important piece. She patted her purse, feeling for her trusty baton and her hand moved to rub her belly as baby Ellis-Caffrey made his presence known. 'It's all good, baby' she whispered as she caressed her baby bump. 'It's all good.'
Malcolm Wilson rode to Brooklyn in a New York City cab right behind the one occupied by Sara Ellis. He reasoned that the best way to keep the woman safe from her stalker was to have her in his sights at all times. He needed to prove to his boss that he could handle the assignment he'd been given - no matter how mundane it was. He hadn't yet spotted her stalker but that didn't mean the creep couldn't reappear at any time and Wilson was determined to collar the guy and drag his sorry ass down to the Federal Building for a thorough interrogation, if it was the last thing he did.
Peter Burke was driving the first of three unmarked FBI vehicles that were on their way to the meet. Although Sullivan would have stayed well away from the actual exchange, the FBI would be there to recover the goods and they could lean - hard - on Ronnie to get him to divulge his source. Peter had more than a few tricks up his sleeve and he and the team had managed to amass a mountain of evidence against the small time fence, plenty of leverage to get him to talk.
Mozzie walked nonchalantly down the streets of Brooklyn on his way to the swap. The best part of ratting out those associates unlucky enough to be on his black list was watching from the sidelines as Sara swooped in and interrupted the trade, leaving the fence with nothing but dust as he watched his share of the profits evaporate. Of course, the next best thing was the not so negligible amount of cash Sara would send his way for his important part in the recovery. He grinned broadly as he walked down the street; it was like taking candy from a baby.
Neal kept some distance between himself and the taxi he'd seen Inspector Clouseau climb into. He congratulated himself on taking his own car into Manhattan, giving him the freedom to follow Sara's tail without being noticed in a big yellow cab. His heart beat wildly in his chest as he followed the cab out of Manhattan towards Brooklyn. He hoped his part in the exchange would be limited to watching, unobserved, as Sara successfully recovered the piece without incident and that he would be able to sneak out and make his back to White Plains in time to pick up their daughter, with no one the wiser. He reminded himself that he had Peter on speed dial if things really went wonky; but this was Sara - and she'd done this hundreds of times before.
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Sara entered through the main door of the decrepit building and followed the sound of men's voices echoing in the cavernous building, her hand firmly clasping her baton. The element of surprise always played in her favor during recoveries and most of the time, the unsuspecting buyers caved when they saw her materialize, clutching the dangerous looking cudgel and producing the paperwork which gave her legitimate rights to the goods they were about to illicitly purchase. Fences, for their part, were notorious for just scurrying away as fast as their nasty little legs could carry them. She'd never had the dubious honor of meeting Ronnie the Shark but he was surely not unlike every other spineless fence she'd ever had the displeasure of meeting and she sped up her steps as the voices grew louder.
Mozzie had gotten to the swap with plenty of time to spare and had watched as first, the buyer, then Ronnie, had arrived at the appointed time and place. The old hospital, although abandoned, was still full of furniture and built in cupboards and shelves and he'd easily found a hiding place which afforded him a front row seat to the proceedings. He'd been listening to the brief exchange between the two men, waiting anxiously for Sara to make her appearance, when he finally heard her telltale stiletto heels click clacking in the distance.
Neal, on the other hand, had sneaked into the building through the back alley and listened for any telltale signs of life, picking up on the unfortunate sound of rats scurrying nearby. He winced in disgust, pushing ahead as he picked up on the sound of low voices off in the distance. He'd observed Inspector Clouseau sneaking in ahead of him, following Sara into the building through the main door and he endeavoured to stay well out of sight of the not so secret agent who seemed intent on nabbing him. All he wanted was to make sure his wife was safe without being spotted by anyone - including the inept agent and especially the beautiful insurance agent with the bad temper who was carrying his baby.
He followed the voices, finding a nearby nook to hide in and he watched with fascination as Sara appeared in front of the men wielding the god-awful baton of hers which always made him cringe.
'Good afternoon, gentlemen' Sara declared, voice confident, as she came face to face with the two men.
Ronnie the Shark was a lot less scary than his name had led her to believe and he immediately took a step back upon seeing Sara appear with that threatening baton in her hand.
'I believe you have something that belongs to me' she continued, sounding fearless.
Neal hadn't had much of an opportunity to see his wife in action and he stood in silence, holding his breath, mesmerized by the woman in front of him who could slip so seamlessly from intimidating insurance investigator to loving mommy to hot, sexy wife.
The two men she'd interrupted watched in surprise as Sara stood, fearless, baton in one hand and an official looking document in the other. Neither one of them seemed particularly inclined to disagree with her rights to the painting and the buyer took a step back and was about to do a runner when there was a clatter and suddenly six FBI agents were surrounding the group, guns drawn.
'FBI! Hands up!' Jones' voice was heard echoing throughout the abandoned building.
The fence froze and watched as Peter Burke made his way to stand immediately in front of him.
'I'll take that!' Peter said as he reached for the painting Ronnie the Shark was still holding in his trembling hands.
'Peter! What are you doing here?' Sara called out, shocked and watching in dismay as the agent reached for the coveted treasure.
'I could ask you the same thing' Peter responded as he cuffed the fence who'd begun to moan and bare his teeth at the FBI agent.
'This is my recovery' Sara said, obviously pissed off at the interruption.
'Well…' Peter answered as he gestured towards the painting in his hands. 'I'm afraid that, for the moment, this is evidence in a high profile investigation.'
'Peter!' she whined just as a sound was heard nearby and Jones instinctively aimed his weapon in that direction, watching as Mozzie appeared, hands up in the air.
'Don't shoot!' he mumbled. 'I'm just… an observer.'
'Mozzie?' Peter called out as the bespectacled man crawled out of his hiding place. 'What the hell -'
Sara rolled her eyes; this was turning into a circus and to make matters worse, Peter was preparing to walk away with the painting she'd been waiting so long to recover.
There was a sudden commotion and newly minted agent Wilson appeared, pulling along an unwitting intruder, against his will.
'Agent Burke!' the probie called out, beyond pleased with himself, as he dragged the stalker by the arm. 'I've got him!'
He shoved the newcomer towards the middle of the room while Peter and Jones aimed their weapons at the stranger, uncertain of his intentions. Wilson reached over and removed the man's baseball cap as his oversized glasses fell to the ground with a loud clunk.
'Neal!' Peter screamed, shocked to find his best friend under the subterfuge.
'Peter!' Neal countered, just as surprised.
'Neal?' Sara's voice was heard over the confusion as she stood there, shocked to see her husband standing there looking like a … well, like a stalker.
'Sir?' Malcolm added, confused.
TBC
