ANGEL
Chapter 7
"June?"
"Hello Peter."
"I'm sorry June, but what are you doing here?"
"Neal called me."
"Neal?"
"Yes, he asked me to pick him up. Is he ready?"
"He's in interrogation."
June had visited the FBI office on a few other occasions, but she had never seen it like this. Agents were everywhere, mixed in with NYPD and the coroner's office. The fax machines could barely process the incoming sheets as harried clerks moved the paper trail between offices. The tension was thick. Jones and Diana were clearly upset, barely making eye contact. She spoke softly, her voice filled with concern.
"Peter, what's happened here?"
"Burke, I'm gonna need you on this," Hall interrupted as he walked up.
"It's a long story, June. Please, have a seat in my office. I'll get back with you as soon as I can. I'm sorry."
June nodded, put her hand on his arm and took a seat in Peter's office.
"OK Agent Hall, you got my full attention."
"Forensics came back with a positive DNA match on the hands in the box. Our time line shows Roark's car traveled directly from here to his house in Queens. Caffrey's tracking date indicates he was home at the time of the murder."
"So he's in the clear," Peter breathed out.
"For the time being. As good a con as your guy is, nobody could fake the flop sweat on Caffrey."
"Veteran agents were close to tossing it in there," Peter could barely mask his irritation.
"I'm not just talking about the message in the box, Burke. This guy Snow has Caffrey spooked. There is something there, some connection and I will find it. Have Caffrey back here in the morning."
WCWC
Peter entered the interrogation room where Neal was still seated, his elbows propped on the glass table top. The color had returned to his face.
"How you holding up?"
"Seriously? I've just gotten out of a three hour interrogation where I'm the prime suspect in a murder case. I've been beaten, strangled within an inch of my life, placed on rape speed dial and poisoned. How do you think I'm doing? Am I done here?"
"You're free to go. Your tracking data showed you at home at the time of the murder. Neal, if you know anything, anything at all about Snow's involvement in this. Now is the time."
"I don't know anything, Peter. Believe me."
"I want to, Neal."
"OK, he took a breath. I was greedy. I was stupid and I should have told you about the treasure. I can never make it up to Elizabeth. I saw the pictures Peter! For God's sake, do you really think I could have murdered Roark?"
"No, I don't. But you're not thinking clearly when it comes to Snow."
"Why, because I didn't want to abandon him to those sadists? But then again, maybe you think a little torture is what criminals like us deserve?"
"Neal, I had no idea that would happen to you."
"But it did, and it happened to Ambrose regularly. He deserved justice. You told me justice, not revenge was the right way, but just not for everyone I guess."
"That's not fair."
"But it's the truth. Can I go?"
Peters face changed, a trace of acknowledgment crossed it, a trace of regret.
"Sure, June's outside."
"Thanks."
"Anyone could have given you a ride home, why did you call June?"
"I don't want to be alone tonight."
WCWC
The ride home was a welcome relief. He was never so glad to be home. He was never so grateful for June.
"Neal, Diana told me what happened. How awful. Are you up to talking about it?"
"You don't have to do this June. You've already helped more than you know."
"That's what family is for. It's your decision."
"Do you mind if I get a shower and out of these clothes first?"
"Of course dear. It'll give me a chance to make you something to eat and don't you argue with me. You have to eat something, Neal. How about some soup? My God, it's so chilly in here. Oh... you left the patio doors open. You'll catch your death of cold like that."
"Sorry, I thought I closed them before I left this morning."
"It's OK. It will warm up now," she closed the doors.
Neal set the shower to hot and stepped under the pulsating water. He squeezed his eyes closed and let out a deep calming breath. He tried to clear his mind. Was he really family? Could he really have that or had he spun a fantasy to himself, a fantasy he could live a different life. If they knew his history, his secrets …..would they feel the same? The thoughts consumed his brain as the steaming water washed over his naked skin. A rumbling in his stomach brought him back to the present. He was hungry.
Once the first bite hit his mouth he felt a sense of well being way beyond food. A sense of comfort he hadn't felt in a long time. A sense of comfort he hadn't thought he was deserving of.
"Thanks June, that was delicious. I don't think I realized how hungry I was."
"Good. So tell me what happened today?"
Talk came easier than he imagined as he told her everything. Exhausted, he leaned his head back against his chair. He barely felt sleep overcoming him until he felt June's hand on his arm gently pulling him from his seat.
"Come on now. I turned down your bed. You need to get some rest. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Try to get some sleep. Goodnight Neal."
As soon as his head hit the pillow he fell into a deep dreamless sleep. He never saw the man standing in the shadows.
Ambrose Snow quietly approached Neal's bedside. He was asleep, lying on his back face toward the door. Moonlight from the patio doors streamed in highlighting his chiseled features. Ambrose watched his chest rise and fall, softly brushing a strand of tangled hair from his eyes. The room was silent.
Beautiful. That was the only word he could think to describe him. He was so beautiful. He was God's choice. His messenger. As he watched him, Neal stirred. He opened his eyes momentarily, pure blue and translucent then drifted back to sleep. He moaned slightly, turned and pulled his legs up to his chest, as if to protect himself instinctively. Standing there in the dark, Ambrose knew it was his mission to stand between him and a world that would further debase and ultimately destroy him.
Freed of his earthly tormentors he would come to understand the power that resided in that beautiful body. He leaned over the sleeping form as the light emanated from his angel and filled the room.
In a few hours the sun would be up. He had work to do.
WCWC
Reese Hughes was standing absolutely straight, his face filled with tension. He glanced down at the two men seated to his right.
"The Bureau has assigned Agents Burke and Hall to lead this investigation. I don't have to tell anyone here the importance of this case. It is our main priority, Deputy Director Roark was one of our own. Agent Berrigan will brief us on what we know about Ambrose Snow."
"Ambrose Snow is a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic. His illness first manifested in childhood. He had no criminal record until he murdered his family four years ago following a trip to Florence Italy. No motive was ever discovered in that killing. He is the sole heir to the vast financial Snow estate. He was sentenced to life in prison. Two months following his imprisonment he escaped, killing a guard in the process. He was caught and transferred to the current supermax facility upstate."
"And how is Snow connected to Mr. Caffrey? Hall asked as he motioned over to Neal who was at the far end of the table.
"We ran every database available to triangulate points of contact between Snow and Caffrey. Caffrey was also in Florence at the same time as Snow. However there is nothing indicating any contact or involvement between the two."
"Can Mr. Caffrey speak?" Hall made a face suggesting impatience and annoyance.
"Yes sir. I first met Ambrose Snow when I was transferred to solitary confinement. I had no contact with him previously."
"If I may Agent Hall, there is some additional data that might shed further light on the relationship. Snow and Neal were both in Florence at the same time. Neal came back to the states was arrested by Agent Burke, a week after Ambrose killed his family. A month later Neal went on trial and Ambrose Snow escapes supermax."
"So what are you saying? What's your point?" Hall asked.
Peter interrupted.
"We think Snow may have been tracking Neal. His picture was in the paper when he was first arrested and then again at the start of his trial. Those two events coincide with the murder of Snows family and then his escape from prison. Snow may have been trying to make contact."
"Why didn't you say anything earlier? Neal asked Peter.
"We didn't have all the pieces. We only found out yesterday that Officer Paul was working with Snow. We were able to trace funds from Snow's accounts back to Officer Paul. There is also evidence that Paul orchestrated the beating that resulted in Neal being transferred to the solitary confinement unit."
"All right. So let's say Snow has some fixation, some attraction to Caffrey. How does that involve Roark?"
"Well, that's what we are trying to figure out."
"We ran an analysis of the angel that was inside the hands, Jones broke in. It's a depiction of the archangel Michael from the artist Cimabue. We know that Snow is fascinated with angels and that it's an integral part of his delusional system. He gave Neal a replica of this angel when he was initially transferred to solitary."
"Snow believed I was sent to him by God. That I was a messenger."
"So your an angel," Hall looked closely at Neal.
"He believed it. I didn't say I did."
"So what are you thinking, Neal?" Peter's eyes focused on his partner.
"The last thing he said to me was the angels are the key. The night before I left he painted his entire cell with angels."
"So you think the paintings might hold a key to Roark's murder?"
"Yes, but they were painted over."
"Isn't there an art restoration technique that could remove the paint?"
"Yes there is."
"It means going back to the prison. Are you up to that?"
"We don't have a choice."
WCWC
Across Town
Downstate Correctional Facility
"Wilkes you have a visitor."
"Who?'
"Some federal agent wants to question you, an Agent Roark."
"For what?
"How would I know?" The prison guard said indifferently.
He opened the cell door, cuffed Wilkes wrists and led him down a corridor to a holding cell.
"Wait here."
Wilkes knew this space. A windowless room. A table, two chairs; one for him and one for the detective. The smell of sweat, stale coffee and anxiety filled the room. Usually a trip here meant the possibility of a deal. But he was way past that.
"So you want to ask me some questions?" Wilkes said sizing up the agent.
"Do you know Neal Caffrey?'
"Yeah I know that snitch. He's responsible for my being here. I'd like to rip his heart out. What does he have to do with anything?"
"I'm here to free him."
"Say what? What's this about man?
The room went quiet, strangely quiet. Nothing happened for a second. Then the man moved forward placing a stun gun against Wilkes side. He heard a cracking sound, as an explosion of pain ripped thru his body. His eyes blurred momentarily.
"Your not FBI," Wilkes struggled to reply.
"No."
"Who the fuck are you?" he was panting now.
"Ambrose Snow."
Ambrose jammed a needle into the seated man's neck. Wilkes tried to stand, but Ambrose held him in his chair until the drug took effect. He looked astonished as he lost control of his body. Frantic, his eyes locked onto Ambrose's who reached behind him and came back with the stun gun.
The stun gun hummed in the silent room, a steady rhythmic pulse as Ambrose eased the dial to maximum voltage. Wilkes was screaming in his head, the delay heightening the anticipation of what came next.
Ambrose stood still as if he was listening. Then filled with a sense of divine purpose he brought the pulsating gun to the bridge of Wilkes's nose. His mouth open in a agonizing grimace ,Wilkes brain screamed. Wait!
WCWC
The last time Neal walked this corridor he was in shackles. It didn't seem real. But it was. Since the murders, the solitary confinement unit was shut down. The huge steel doors now permanently suspended open. He shuddered slightly as he walked into the space that was scene to such unspeakable violence. He looked over at Peter then down at his shaking hands. He quickly slid them into his pockets. A gesture not unnoticed by his partner. The art restoration crew was just finishing up their job in Snow's cell. They waited for Hall and the other members of the team to arrive.
"When you're ready to talk to me, I hope you know you can."
"I know. Thanks, Peter."
Hall and the others approached. Agent Hall surveyed the scene, then shifted his gaze to study Neal Caffrey.
"This is how Snow escaped. He took Officer Paul's left eye to activate the retinal scan and Officer Riley's index finger for the touch pad print. Coroner's report indicated they were both done post mortem. You OK Caffrey?"
"I'm fine."
"From our reconstructions, Officer Paul was killed first."
"Head blow," Diana offered.
"You could say that. He was hit with such force, skull fragments and gray matter were recovered from the walls, ceiling and plexiglass. He never knew what hit him. Officer Riley wasn't that lucky. He took his time with him."
Neal tensed visibly as Riley's name was spoken. He still had nightmares about him even though he was dead. His pulse sped up, exactly what he wanted to avoid at all costs, since knowing he had to return to this place.
"He was alive when Snow took his tongue. Tox screens show he used the same curare drug on Riley, that he used on his family and on Roark. He first used it on birds he dissected as a kid, before he graduated to humans."
"I think he gave it to me the night I went to the infirmary," Neal added. Officer Paul added it to my food."
"Why, Neal? Peter asked.
"I think he was trying to protect me from Riley. Riley was a sadist. He took advantage of the inmates. He tortured and raped Ambrose. He would have done the same to me, if Ambrose hadn't intervened."
"So there was no love lost between you and Riley. You think he got what was coming to him?" Hall focused on Neal's obvious anxiety.
"I didn't say that. Nobody deserves that...what happened to him."
"So let me get this straight, Hall stared at Neal. So he murders his entire family, kills three guards, Agent Roark...but you he saves."
"I told you, he has this delusion I was sent to him by God, some kind of divine messenger."
"Everybody, you need to see this, Diana interrupted. The art restoration team had finished.
They stepped into the small cell. No one spoke. It was amazing, just as Neal remembered it. Snow's fierce and mournful angels, but there was one he hadn't noticed.
"What is it Neal?
"This angel. Peter, I don't remember it being here."
Peter moved closer to the cell wall.
"Here, this is the angel Snow sent Neal. He pointed to a portrait of the angel Michael. He somehow associates Michael with Neal. In various theologies Michael is considered the defender, protector of God's people."
"Yes, Neal added. Pre Raphael artists such as Cimabue mostly portrayed him as a warrior, who led God's armies against Satan's forces."
"But he was also widely perceived as a healing angel, a patron of the sick and the suffering. That view would be in keeping with Snow's delusion that Neal would somehow save him. Diana you reported that Snow became ill in childhood and had visions of angels."
"Peter, Ambrose told me that I would purify him."
"OK, lets accept your theory Burke that Snow identifies Caffrey with Michael. How does this angel fit into the picture?" he points to the figure kneeling before the portrait of Michael.
"There's something here, Neal interrupts. Peter reach me that cloth."
Neal begins to apply the restorers solution to the wall. A faint inscription emerges: Revelations 20:2. Recognition lit his eyes.
"Abbadon," Peter whispers.
"Someone want to clue me in?" Hall asks.
"The angel of death. Variously portrayed as a defender of Michael and the other higher order of angels from the forces of Satan. Other times portrayed as Satan himself."
The room went silent as they struggled to process this information.
"Peter!" Jones entered the unit breathing hard. There is something you need to hear. Ryan Wilkes was found dead over an hour ago, at Downstate Correctional facility."
"What?"
"He was electrocuted. He was found after a visit from... get this, FBI Deputy Director Roark."
Peter ran his hand through his hair. He felt his pulse jump, his heart began to pound. He shook his head.
"What's going on Burke? Who the hell is Ryan Wilkes?" Hall spat out.
"He was a former associate of Neal's. He kidnapped, tasered and threatened to kill Neal on an undercover assignment last year. Peter was talking to Hall, but looking at Neal, his blue eyes were flat.
"It's Ambrose. He's going after anyone he thinks is a threat to me. He sees himself as an avenging angel." Neal struggled to get a grip on his emotions.
"And he has every file we have on Caffrey," Jones added. Peter, you are on that list."
"I'm no threat to Neal."
"I know that Peter, but Ambrose hold's you responsible. He told me as much. You're in danger, his heart shuddered as he lay a hand on Peter's arm. He's a madman and he won't stop. He believes he's on a mission from God.".
"Then we stop him."
tbc