Chapter VI
"What makes you think that something has happened to Caffery?," Garrett Fowler sat comfortably behind his desk in his corner office in the US Department of Justice Building, the glass walls behind him presenting a clear view of the city's nightly display of lights. His expression would have been genial except for the slight smirk. From what you've said, sounds to me like he just got scared and ran. Oh, wait. Now I get it. You think your little pet convict tried to escape custody. I see. Well why don't you just post some wanted posters and set up road blocks. I'm sure he'll be found in no time."
"You smug bastard," said Peter who had burst through the office door just minutes ago. He could see Fowler was enjoying this and it sickened him. "Whatever has happened to him, you're behind it. I know it."
"What makes you think that?"
"Because that's what you do," said Peter, "because you use anyone and everyone to get what you want. You dangled his girlfriend in front of him like a carrot to manipulate him to break out of jail four months before his prison term was up just so you could own him. When that didn't quite work out for you, you framed him so your pet thief would go free, just to try and get him into your clutches again. You coerced him, you used him as bait and for all I know you planned Kate's and his murder and his only reward in all these machinations of yours is that he stays out of prison. In return, Neal gave up nearly everything he had, short of his life for one of your missions. But that wasn't enough for you. You wanted Neal out in the field now and the fact that the man is barely able to hold it together because of what he has endured to serve you, just played into your plans, didn't it?"
"Look, I know what's bothering you. You like Caffery. But right now he's damaged goods, not only useless to you but a danger. You feel bad because he is your responsibility and he looks up to you. You don't want to come right out and say it, bad form, I get that. But I can get you another partner. I'll go one better. You can even pick him."
"You god damn son of bitch."
Fowler had lost his patience. "Caffery is a criminal. Burke. It's time you faced up to that fact. He belongs to the department and we will use him any way we need to in order to accomplish our missions. If he gets hurt, okay, we'll fix him, like any other possession. But if he's too broken to use, he gets dumped, in his case, back in prison."
Peter remembered Dr. Rothstein's words, "After what he's been through serving you, serving us, you'd throw him back? You're a heartless bastard. With the people he's helped put away he wouldn't survive a day, even if he wasn't hurt, you know that."
"So, I'm giving him his only opportunity to stay out of prison plus paying to get him back into shape. That's damn generous since he did steal the amber music box in the first place."
"Cut the 'I'm being so generous' crap Fowler. The only reason he's not serving time for that right now is because the Italians can't admit they had it or the Russians would be screaming bloody murder. Putting Caffery in prison for it would just make it look like we knew about what was going on and would create more of an international incident than keeping him out of prison."
"Lucky for us, as you've said, that makes him juicy bait. It even works better for us now that we've been able to put out the word that after that last little interlude he's nothing but a broken and sniveling coward and ready to squeal."
"Neal is no coward," Peter yelled, nearly jumping around Fowler's desk, pulling him up by the lapels and hauling back his arm ready to swing.
"You want another suspension?" Fowler practically squeaked, his hands up in front of his face. "You hit me and it will be more than two weeks, maybe even your badge."
Peter knew he had to keep it together, for Neal's sake if for no other reason.
"Look, it's simple, the bad guys know how messed up he is now. They'll think it will be a snap to nab him. They'll try to make him talk but he'll get them to talk and tell him why they want the damn thing. Then we nab them for kidnapping, assault and whatever other charges we come up."
"And that worked so well the last time," said Peter.
"I put Caffery under surveillance. Anyone makes a move, they'll notify me."
"Yeah, so where the hell is he now?"
"They lost him when he rabbited out of that liquor store."
"They lost him," Peter slammed his hand on the desk.
"They'll catch up with him again."
If Fowler knew Peter any better, the expression on his face would have set him running.
"Give me the box," he said.
"What makes you think I have it?"
"You really think you can play stupid with me?" Peter went to the door and signaled Mozzie to bring in Alex.
Fowler's eyes widened as the two walked in. "Yeah, well, I should have known better, but it proves my point. You can't trust a thief."
"Look who's talking," were the first words out of Mozzie's mouth.
"Okay, I've got it. I've got the amber music box. What do you think you're going to do with it?"
"Different plan, different bait. I've got the box and I'll give it to anyone who brings me Caffery, alive and unharmed."
"And we nab them instead, and plea bargain them down to get the information we need, okay. But where the box goes, I go."
"Fine," Peter turned to Moz, and nodded toward the adjoining conference room and the bank of phones there. "Fowler and I will work our networks and you work yours, put the word out that I've got the box and will trade it for Neal."
"I'm not going to use my phone where the signal can be traced into the center of this military industrial complex seventh circle of hell."
"I thought you'd be in your element, Dante." Peter guided him into the room. "All the lines in this place are untraceable and secure."
"Peter," he turned at Alex's voice. "I'm sorry, I really didn't know what Fowler had done and what happened to Neal. If I had, well... Let me help. I have some sources that won't take Mozzie's calls, even if he knew about them."
Peter smiled, "I'm sure Fowler won't mind giving you access to whatever resources you need, will you?" he smirked at the OPR agent.
"You know, you're busting an operation that has taken almost two years to put into motion," said Fowler.
"See how much I care."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
With a rough shove, Neal was thrown into the room from his nightmares, landing hard on his wounded arm against the floor, the ripping, burning pain momentarily stunning him.
It was a different warehouse, in a different part of the city, but everything else seemed the same. Except for a single light 20 feet above their heads, the room was dark, as Neal had remembered it, seen it every night in his dreams. In the center, as if on a stage, was the same chair, fastened to the floor. On it was a generous supply of wire and a pair of wire cutters on the seat. Around the stage in stark contrast were several rows of easy chairs, with richly colored cushions for the men who comprised the audience of his previous humiliating torment and torture. Recording equipment was also present so that they could later view his humiliation at their leisure.
The man with the scar walked in, pulling Elizabeth along, holding her tightly, his fingers digging into her arms.
"We'll give you two love birds an hour to discuss your options and then Neal can tell us whether or not we will continue with him, or if we should enjoy the charms of this fair creature." The man reached around to caress Elizabeth's cheek but she spit on him and stamped hard on his foot with her heel.
The man yelped, letting go of her, but stepped back in time to block her attempt out the door chuckling. "Oh, my dear, that one," he pointed to Neal, "will be so easy to crack he's barely worth the trouble. But whether you go before or after, I'll look forward to our interlude. I'm sure with you it will go on very. very long time, definitely more satisfying."
One of the man's goons held Elizabeth as the man with the scar walked over to Neal, still struggling to catch his breath from the pain. The man kicked him in the ribs causing Neal to curl in on himself, attempting to protect himself, gritting his teeth against the pain from several more kicks administered to his stomach, back and chest.
"Stop it, stop it," Elizabeth yelled, struggling against the goon who was holding her.
"See how he squirms," the man with the scar laughed. Bending down he grabbed Neal's hair, pulling it to keep Neal's head immobile and took out his gun, touching the muzzle to Neal's forehead. A sheen of sweat covered Neal's face and the look of horror distorted Neal's features so that Elizabeth barely recognized him as her friend.
"Ah, he's whimpering in fear, the poor boy." He forced Neal to look at him. "You're a coward, not even a man, the way you've been sniveling, too afraid to go out in public for fear people will see what a nothing you are." The man let Neal's hair go like he was throwing him away and walked back towards Elizabeth. "He knows it will take no time to break him. I have no doubt he'll chose you to play with us for a while to delay finishing him off. But it will be interesting watching him, watch you suffer. He might even beg for the bullet to avoid that. Ah, this will be much more fun all around, seeing him plead for death while we play with you." he laughed as he and his men left, closing and locking the door.
Elizabeth ran over to Neal but he was already slowly climbing to his feet. "Don't" he said in a small voice as she reached out to him. "I'm okay," he told her, panting, turning away from her and holding his stomach. She chose to believe him, even though she knew he was not. If nothing else, what she thought was a scratch from the bullet on his arm was now slowly bleeding again. Later she would have to force the issue, but now was not the time.
Elizabeth walked back to the door and examined the hinges, the lock, searching for some way out and then continued around the room testing and searching the walls, floors and examining the ceiling.
Walking over to the center chair Neal looked down at it seeing blood stains that could have been and most likely were his. "Don't bother Elizabeth there's no way out. I'd have found it the last time if there was."
Heartened by even this small show of self-confidence from Neal, she continued to exam the walls. "I can still check. I thought you were never left alone here."
"I was for just a couple of hours the first night, like tonight, for me to think about it."
Elizabeth walked over to him, "Neal, we just have to hold on for a short time. Peter will find us. You know he will."
"Yes, Elizabeth, I know he will," Neal said dully, remembering how that was the mantra, 'Peter will find me,' that he repeated to himself for a whole week last time, the only thing that kept him going, kept him from saying anything when the fear and the pain were more than he could bear.
But it had taken a week and that was with Peter knowing he'd been taken though not by whom. This time all Peter knew was that he'd run away from the liquor store and that he could be anyplace. Elizabeth's absence could mean anything and just confuse him. There would be no reason to connect the two or to think they were in danger. Silently, Neal doubted that even if Peter could magically find them, it would not be in time before the game began. They'd come in here and make him choose and he knew he would never put Elizabeth through what they'd done to him. Just like last time, he had to hold on for as long as it took to keep Elizabeth safe because not to would again betray the only man who truly trusted him in any way, the only man he ever really trusted.
He ran his hands over the chair, touched the wires, the ones like they'd used to fasten his arms and legs and neck so he couldn't get out. They'd put him in that chair, use the wires to restrain him and they'd start their game all over again. But this time they were making him ask for it, volunteer for it, for the pain and the fear that still ate at him from the last time. They said he had a choice, but he had none. No options, no freedom, just pain and death.
This time he felt the despair form just under his heart, fill his chest, rise up his throat like bile and choke him, burn up behind his face and fill his eyes with tears until no matter how he tried to stop it it burst. "I can't," he cried "I can't, do this, not again." With hopelessness overwhelming him, Neal slumped down on the floor leaning against the chair, and for the first time since this ordeal began, he could not fight the sobs.
A/N Nope, don't try to deny it. I know a lot of people are reading this story. For those of you who are enjoying it, remember fanfiction writers get no money for a great deal of work. Our payment is knowing that what we've done is appreciated so please, feed a few crumbs (reviews) to us. For those of you who have reviewed, thank you very much, your words make my day. For those of you who have read it but want to throw a few flames, flame away, some of my best friends are fire fighters. Either way, a few words would be appreciated. Thank you.