"All right, let's go through it one more time."

Peter knew the words sounded trite – but to their credit, the agents gathered around the conference room table managed not to roll their eyes. Moving over to the whiteboard, he pointed at the timeline that had been laid out.

Jones was closest, so he started. "We know when Neal asked to leave early for lunch. And according to the incoming call history on his phone, he did talk to Sara Ellis just before that."

"Sara wasn't in the office in the morning, but there's nothing unusual about that. Her work frequently keeps her out in the field."

Peter considered that for a moment, studying the speaker, Paul Rollins. He was another investigator at Sterling Bosch, and had been sent over to keep an eye on the confidential files the company had delivered. "So she doesn't necessarily tell anyone where she'll be, or exactly what she's working on?"

Rollins had a skeptical look on his face as he answered. "How long did you say you've known Sara, Agent Burke?"

Peter sighed, leaning against the back of the nearest chair. "Long enough to know that that was a desperate question."

"She gets results, and that's what the company looks for," Rollins said. "No one has made Sara punch a time clock for quite a while."

"All right, and we'll come back to her cases." Peter pointed back at the board. "We know they were at lunch at Chantilly."

Diana pulled out her notes. "The staff said Neal arrived first, by maybe ten minutes. He ordered a bottle of wine, which was delivered before Sara arrived. No one on the staff noticed her when she actually got there, and we're still trying to track down some of the early customers. But everyone we've talked to who did see them together said they seemed fine. No raised voices, nothing obviously wrong."

Agent Westley picked up the narrative from his own notes. "The server said they both ordered the chicken salad. Neal paid the bill when they left, complete with a nice tip."

"And then they were on foot." Jones traced a route on the map posted next to the board. "Not a straight path at all."

"Almost like they were trying to evade something, or someone," Diana suggested.

"And we're sure they were still together?" Peter asked, studying the map.

Westley spoke up first. "We know they left together. The busboy saw them go around the corner."

Diana got to her feet and pointed at a spot about two blocks away. "A dog walker thinks she saw them about here."

Jones picked up the narrative again. "NYPD had a disturbance call about a block away. No details, and the responding officers didn't find anything when they got there." He leaned in, pointing to a spot on the map. "We found Neal's phone here."

"We checked the traffic cameras from the major streets for an hour after the time of that disturbance call," Blake offered. "We didn't see either Neal or Ms. Ellis come out of those side streets on foot. And there were only two cabs that we observed during that time. Neither driver recognized the photos."

"So either they're still in that side area, which we've found no evidence of," Diana said. "Or they left in a different vehicle."

"Tech has all of the video," Jones said. "So far, no facial recognition on anyone we can see. They're trying to clean up some of the footage, and we've got clerks running down any license plates we can read."

Peter pointed at a spot well to the north. "And somehow, Neal's tracking anklet wound up here."

"That's the last time stamp we have," Diana admitted. "We know when the tracker was disabled for a few seconds, apparently without tampering."

"And then left in the park." Peter slapped at the map in frustration. "What about traffic cameras in the area?"

"NYPD has promised we'll have the footage this morning," Blake replied. "We'll try to match up any vehicles at both places."

"High traffic areas though, especially since we have nothing to narrow down the search," Jones warned.

"And no one has seen either of them since?" Peter asked.

"Sara missed a meeting yesterday at two o'clock," Rollins said. "She's the one who scheduled it, and it was quite important. It's not like her at all, and no one has been able to reach her at home or on her cell since."

"I talked to June this morning," Diana added. "She had coffee with Neal yesterday morning, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But she hasn't seen or heard from him since."

Peter stood back and sighed, planting his hands on his hips as he stared at the board. "What are we missing?"

They had opted for partially-dressed as the attire for the day, underwear and shirt. Everything else seemed wholly unnecessary, under the circumstances.

They'd tried making a sail earlier, after the early-morning swim. Copious amounts of duct tape binding oars together, one of the survival blankets raised to the breeze. And Neal figured there was an outside chance that they'd made some slight headway westward before the experiment had ended. But as the sky darkened with dangerous looking clouds, and the wind picked up, it had soon taken both of them to even hold the contraption upright. Without a rudder, there was no steering as they were whipped across the waves.

In the end, they had dismantled the 'sail,' raised the canopy, and settled in for the ride.

They'd also been using the binoculars to scan the ocean periodically for any sign of a vessel, but so far to no avail.

At least they had lunch – sort of.

Sara picked up a handful of the seaweed, staring at it with open distrust. "Neal, you're sure?"

"I'm sure it's edible." Even if he wasn't sure it looked edible. "I don't guarantee anything on taste." He pulled a strand loose, gamely popped it in his mouth, chewed…

It took all his self-control not to spit it right back out.

Somehow, he managed to swallow. "Delicious."

Sara still looked – rightfully – skeptical. "Sure."

"Well, nutritious anyway." He took another small strand, popped it in his mouth, and swallowed it right down. "There. Better without chewing. And it'll help keep your strength up."

"I'll never look at sushi rolls the same," Sara said, as she gamely swallowed some of the seaweed.

Assuming they made it through the storm that seemed to be approaching, they might be looking at trying the fishing gear – and raw fish – before long. But it might be better not to talk about that just yet. Instead, he picked up the bag of water. "Just remember, we have a lovely vintage to wash it down with."

Sara looked even more dubious about that as she swallowed more of the seaweed.

They spent a few minutes eating – swallowing – in silence; it wasn't exactly a romantic meal to linger over. And they both managed to swallow some of the syrupy liquid.

Neal finally stowed the water bag away again. No matter how horrible it tasted, they needed the water to survive. Then he opened the entry hatch on the canopy to look out.

A moment later, Sara was behind him, leaning over his shoulder. "How bad do you think it'll get?"

He studied the massive build-up of dark clouds that seemed to literally be rolling toward them. "Probably pretty rough."

"But these rafts are designed to handle that, right?"

"Yeah. To a certain point anyway." Time to come clean. "This one is more designed for use closer in-shore."

"Which we're not."

"No."

"So what do you think?"

"I think we don't have a lot of choices."

He hooked the flap halfway open so they could keep an eye on the weather and then settled back against the side of the raft. Holding his arm out, he waited until Sara had curled in next to him, and then held her close. "We'll make it, Repo."

"Is that just a line, Con Man?"

"Nope. You're way too tough to get taken out by some little storm."

"And what about you?"

He turned toward her and grinned. "I'm with you. What could go wrong?"

"Oh, so I'm a good luck charm?"

"Well, better you than me. I don't seem to be doing very well at that recently." His smile disappeared. "Maybe you should be worried."

"Neal…"

"I've managed to hurt a lot of people I cared about, Sara."

"Well, this time you got caught up in my mess."

"And you were caught in mine before."

She was silent for a long moment, and then her hand came to rest on his chest. "I think I made yours worse."

"What do you mean?"

"You know when Keller approached me, and said he was Interpol?"

"Yeah. I'm just glad he didn't hurt you."

"No, he didn't hurt me. But he scared me."

"Keller has a way of doing that."

"But Neal, I panicked."

He shifted slightly so he could look at her. "What happened?"

"He was asking me about you and the treasure. And then he was threatening me, saying that he knew I was under investigation at Sterling Bosch."

"Sara…"

"No, Neal, listen! He showed me a photo. It was from a surveillance camera, when we were buying those helicopters."

"Right, the bank case."

"Yes, but Keller implied we were spending money from the Nazi treasure. And he'd been pushing me so hard…" She sat up, looking away. "That's when I gave him the treasure cam web address."

"He wasn't going to leave with nothing, Sara."

"But don't you see? I should have laughed in his face and told him that photo had nothing to do with the treasure!"

Neal sat up, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Sara, believe me, people don't tend to get away with laughing in Matthew Keller's face."

"But I let him see the treasure," she whispered. "Without that, maybe…"

"Without that, he would have found another way."

"Neal…"

"Sara, look at me." He waited until she complied. "This has been a giant mess from the very beginning."

"I didn't help."

"Well, whatever small role you may have played, I think it was always destined to end badly."

"Like with you back in prison."

He shrugged, nodded. "Maybe."

"But you didn't steal it."

"No, but I didn't say anything when I found out where the treasure was. I helped hide it, and impeded a federal investigation."

"Without me though, he might not have had enough reason to go after Elizabeth Burke," Sara insisted.

Neal sighed and leaned back again, pulling Sara with him. "Let me tell you a little about Matthew Keller." He paused, eyes closed, thinking back. "I was twenty – so sure of myself, enjoying every challenge, and absolutely sure no one could catch me. I remember I was living in Paris at the time, and some… acquaintances asked me to go to Monaco with them."

"I've always heard it's nice."

"It is. Right on the Mediterranean, with all the culture that goes with that. I love Monte Carlo – always hoped I could go back someday. But at the time, there was a big international backgammon tournament going on."

"Backgammon?"

"I didn't even know what the game was back then," Neal admitted. "But lots of rich people were going to be there, and there would be parties. Opportunities galore, as I saw it then. And it was true. I was working one of the parties – lifting an occasional wallet or some jewelry, schmoozing, making new friends."

"Rich female friends, I'd bet."

Neal laughed a little at that. "Mostly, yes. I didn't spend any nights alone."

"Ah, the life of an international thief and playboy."

"Remember, I was twenty. Anyway, Keller was doing the same thing. We kind of recognized each other that way. We got to talking, we each had some ideas that would go better with another person…"

"So you became partners?"

"In a way, I guess. It was more about convenience than anything else. We did pretty well in Monaco, and we worked together a few more times. He… he used to be different. I mean, I pulled his ass out of the fire a few times, but he helped me out a couple of times too."

"So what happened?"

"I wish I knew. I hadn't seen him for a couple of years, and then I ran into him working the film festival in Cannes. And he was just… different. Colder, angrier. We didn't really talk that first night, but I saw him again the next night, and that time he followed me back to the bar. We had a drink, talked – he was planning a three-person job, and was looking for the third. It seemed pretty straight forward, and a good payday, so I signed on."

"But it didn't go well?" Sara guessed.

"Actually, the job went about as smooth as any I've ever been on. But when we were leaving, the other guy, Thierry, said he thought he might have left his passport behind. He was still checking his pockets when Keller shot him."

"Just shot him?"

"Cool as could be. There was nothing I could do, it happened too fast. And to top it all off, Thierry's passport was in his back pocket all along."

"So what happened? Did the police suspect Keller?"

"No, they had no idea who Keller was. And it's not like I could tell them. I mean, they might have accepted an anonymous tip for the stolen goods, but not for a murder charge."

"And you couldn't go to them directly without implicating yourself."

"Right. And once Keller implicated me in the theft…"

"You'd be considered as guilty in the murder as Keller."

Neal nodded. "I swear to you, Sara, I didn't even know he had a gun. It wasn't part of the plan. And it wasn't part of who he was before." He sighed, running a hand through his salt-crusted hair. "We were supposed to meet up the next night to discuss another job, but I didn't stick around. I cleared out of my hotel room, spent the night with a friend, and then took the first international flight out the next morning. I wound up in Brussels."

"And Keller?"

"I don't know. I didn't see him again for a couple of years. Our paths crossed a few times, but I never worked with him again."

"And he knew that you couldn't turn him in for the murder without risking prison."

"Exactly. Then Keller surfaced in New York a couple of years back. He hired a small-time thief to pull a museum heist for him. Once he got what he wanted, he ran the guy down with a car."

Sara didn't say anything, but he felt her grip on his arm tighten.

"We arrested him, and he plea-bargained for a twenty year sentence. But maybe you heard about Peter being kidnapped?"

"I heard a little. That was Keller?"

"He planned it all – as part of a grand plan to escape. It worked, and he disappeared. There was no word on him anywhere until a few months ago when he turned up in Egypt, and then here in New York."

"I guess I know that part of the story."

"Enough, anyway."

"Wow."

"That pretty much sums it up. And then Keller showed up again, taking Elizabeth."

"Feel like you're tilting at windmills?"

"Sometimes, yeah. But we got Elizabeth back, she's safe. That's the most important thing."

"Do you think he'll come after you again?"

"With Keller, who knows, even from a cell. But if I go back to prison, I guess I'm safe from Keller, at least. He'll consider that a victory. And hopefully then he won't have reason to go after people I know either."

"But now I've dragged you into the Donnelly mess."

"Out of the frying pan…"

"Into the fire."

He pulled her in closer. "Peter will figure it out, Sara. I know he will."