The black of the sky was softening, hinting at the approach of dawn. Between a row of skyscrapers, a lone car sped. Its driver, FBI Agent Peter Burke, had once been thrilled with this shiny new car, one of the many perks that came with his recent promotion to ASAC. But that seemed so long ago now. His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as, coming out of a hard turn, he jammed down on the accelerator.
Seated beside him, thrown back slightly by the motion of the car, Neal Caffrey was conversing with the small pug in his arms who was struggling unsuccessfully to free himself.
"We're gonna get him, Bugs. You and me. We're gonna save Mozzie. Yes we are. We'll get him."
Peter was exasperated. How could Neal be so cheerful right now? "Neal, this is no joke. We need to stay focused here."
Bugsy shook his head, dislodging Neal's fedora. Neal reached out and, in one adroit motion, caught the hat, flipped it, and placed it atop his own head. "He wants us to stay focused, Bugsy. We can manage that, can't we? Oh, yes we can."
"Rachel's a killer. Aren't you worried?"
"But nothing bad will happen to Moz, will it Bugsy? Because we won't let it. And because Rachel needs his help or she'll never get the diamond."
"What's going on, Neal? Are you trying to avoid talking to me for some reason?"
Suddenly the car behind them turned on its lights and siren. It was a police patrol car.
Peter slammed the brakes. "Just what I need right now. A speeding ticket."
He is reaching for his FBI badge as the scene fades.
About half an hour later, Neal and Peter are seated in a small, semi-dark room. A departing young woman in a police uniform has just closed and locked the only door behind herself.
Peter is still a bit stunned from the recent events. "I should have realized something was up. There's usually a lot more traffic in Manhattan during the morning rush hour. How could I not notice?"
Neal shrugs. "Don't be too unkind to yourself. You were worried about Mozzie." He has freed his wrists and is busily freeing Peter's. "There's no way you could have known Rebecca could pull a stunt like that. Roadblocks, armed police impersonators... She's not only clever, she's also got impressive connections. Too bad she's a killer." He pauses wistfully, then shrugs away the thought and flashes a Caffrey smile. "Anyway, the team will be here soon."
"What? How can you be so sure?"
Neal's still smiling broadly. "Because that wasn't my anklet you cut. That was Bugsy's dog collar. I slipped it on my leg when nobody was looking."
"You mean..." Peter is beginning to smile too.
"Yes. The anklet is still tracking us. And I'm outside my radius. Help should arrive just... about..." Neal pauses to listen. Nothing out of the ordinary is happening.
But no. Neal was right. There are sounds of scuffling, running, and shouting outside the door. Shots are fired. More shouting. A key in the lock, and now light is streaming into the room. It's a welcome sight.
Neal puts on his hat and jumps to his feet. Peter hits the ground running. "Where's Rebecca?"
"We've got agents chasing her. But Mozzie is here; he's fine." Once again, good old reliable Agent Clinton Jones has shown up just in the nick of time.
"Moz. You know where she's headed?" Nick rushes to his friend, seated in a car right outside the building.
A grin appears on Mozzie's face. There may also be a slight twinkle in his eye. "Of course. The church. I told her that the message looked just like some graffiti I once saw on the back of the building years ago. And you know the old dilapidated storage shed behind the church? Some kids used to store their rock collection back there; I told the feds, and it's likely she'll still be busy searching in there when they arrive."
"And the real location?"
Mozzie taps his coat pocket significantly. "We can decipher this at our leisure after she's out of the way."
