I own nothing but the mistakes, for which I take all responsibility.

Chapter Seven

Peter felt immense relief when he opened his door to see a smug looking Mozzie standing on his doorstep. A smug looking Mozzie had news; and news about Neal was the only news anyone was interested in.

"You've heard from Neal?" Peter blurted it out before even saying hello.

"Impatient much, suit?" Mozzie asked, eyebrows raised. "Are you even going to ask me in first?" Peter stepped aside and exaggeratedly gestured for Mozzie to enter. Mozzie did so and began removing his cap and jacket. He seemed to be taking his own sweet time as he hung them on the hall tree by the door. He turned and looked around expectantly.

"Where is Mrs. Suit?" he asked.

"Working," Peter answered curtly, "Have you heard from Neal?" His patience after the past hours was non existent.

"No, I've heard from Nick Halden, actually," Mozzie corrected.

Despite his sarcasm, Peter knew that Mozzie was as relieved as he was to have heard from Neal. Peter had gotten in touch with Mozzie as soon as he knew what had happened. He knew Mozzie would be the safest person for Neal to contact for help. Peter's confidence in this fact had pleased Mozzie even if the circumstances had not. The situation being what it was no one had expected to hear from Neal immediately. But when the eighteen hour mark passed with no word, Peter began to feel what had been mild apprehension turn into dread. How bad had Neal been hurt? At the twenty four hour mark, Peter's dread was bordering on barely contained panic.

During the silent hours the search for Jacobs, and Neal, had not stopped. The FBI wasn't the only ones looking for Jacobs. The NYPD was still searching for him, as was his old partners. The FBI and the NYPD wanted to question and arrest him; the partners had other plans. He was in danger; hiding for his life and doing a good job of it. He had gone to ground and taken Neal with him and the search had turned up nothing. Even Mozzie's extensive contacts had found nothing. Mozzie hadn't even tried to contain his panic. The little guy had practically screamed at Peter in his frustration: What if Neal wasn't able to make contact? What if he was never going to make contact? How had Peter let this happen and what did he plan to do to get Neal back? Peter had no answers so he had given none and Mozzie had stormed out. That had been just over three hours earlier.

But now Neal, or Nick Halden, had reached out to Mozzie, just as Peter had predicted he would.

"I got a call from him just a little over an hour ago," Mozzie explained.

"And he needs you to find a buyer," Peter said, "What is the next step?"

"He needs me to locate a specific buyer for a Gorky," Mozzie said, "Why didn't you tell me it was a Gorky, Suit?"

Peter didn't know it was a Gorky. Or what a Gorky was, for that matter.

"I didn't know, Mozzie, and I actually don't care. What do you mean a specific buyer? What else did Neal say?"

"He said he wanted to me make arrangements with Steve Tannenbaum to buy The Portrait of Ahko for three million dollars."

"Steve Tannenbaum?" Peter repeated.

"Yes, suit," Mozzie affirmed, "and I know that is you. Neal told me about your undercover stint as Dr. Magic Fingers."

Peter made a mental note to remind Neal that details of undercover operations were not to be discussed with outside personnel.

"He wants me to pose as the buyer?" That thought pleased Peter but he knew that it would not please Koffman. He hadn't been happy that Mozzie might be the only way to find Neal, and that Peter was the only way to find Mozzie. He hadn't went so far as to explain to Koffman that he, in fact, had to go through Elizabeth.

"That remains to be seen," Mozzie answered, "He also talked about your paranoia, outlandish conspiracy theories and the fact that you have several safe houses set up across the city." The men looked at each other; both knew who that description referred to.

"So this specific buyer of his is some kind of weird composite of you and me?" Peter asked, wondering what Neal was thinking and what his plan entailed.

"I am sure his conversation was being monitored, so he couldn't be direct." Mozzie related. "I think he wanted to let me know to come to you," He paused, "but its more about the exchange set up."

"What do you mean?"

"The meeting place and time are up to us, or rather the paranoid Steve Tannenbaum."

"The meeting place and time are up to us?" No matter the circumstances, Neal always had a way of manipulating things to go the way he needed them to go. But even for Neal, this was an impressive thing to have pulled off.

"Yes, and I gathered that it should be at one of my safe houses," Mozzie paused, probably considering the house he was most willing to sacrifice "Jacobs wants three million dollars in cash and an exchange set for tomorrow afternoon."

"Three million in cash?" Peter tried to imagine what that kind of cash would look like. And people just had that kind of money lying about? "For a portrait of who?"

"Its not a portrait of someone, Suit," an obviously exasperated Mozzie explained "It's a Arshile Gorky painting titled The Portrait of Ahko."

"Oh, yeah, Gorky." Peter's dismissive tone only brought further explanation from Mozzie

"Gorky was one of the most influential abstract painters of the 20th century," Mozzie lectured, "A tragic figure. One of Gorky's paintings, Impatience, sold at Sotheby's a couple years ago at just over six million dollars."

"And Jacobs is willing to part with this one for three million?"

"Yes, but that was an auction and auctions take time," Mozzie continued, "Jacobs is willing to sacrifice profit for expedience."

"Profits don't mean much when you are dead," Peter remarked, "Jacobs needs out of town, fast." Peter was relieved that Neal had made contact but still had an uneasy feeling. His friend had been shot; over twenty-four hours out of touch meant it was more than a just a graze. "Mozzie, how did Neal sound?"

The look Mozzie gave him was an answer in itself. "A little off his game," Mozzie admitted reluctantly, then added "for Neal, I mean. Not that anyone else would notice. But I could tell." Mozzie wasn't convincing.

Peter felt the muscles in his neck tighten. Tighten more. The sooner this meet happened and Neal was safe the better. "So what now?" Even off his game, he knew Neal had a plan; probably a good one.

"He will call me back at noon tomorrow for the time and place Tannenbaum wants to meet." He looked at Peter. "I will need a Tannenbaum and three million dollars by then."

Peter smiled, "I think I can help you with that."

"Good," he said, "We can use Thursday for the meet. I will text you the address. You pick the time. I will be back tomorrow at 11:30 am to take the call."

Peter had heard the we in that statement. Mozzie wanted to be involved; expected to be. And if this was Peter's case, he probably would be. But it wasn't Peter's case.

"You know Koffman and Edwards will have to be here, too." Peter ventured reluctantly.

"A regular suit convention," Mozzie mumbled, "That's just great."

"It is his case," Peter reminded him, "Neal is technically working for him right now."

"You need to stop loaning him out like that," Mozzie admonished "He isn't a hammer or extra shovel, you know."

"It was Neal's idea, Mozzie" Peter protested, "He insisted; He wanted to do this."

Mozzie looked at him as if he were an idiot. "Since when has that ever been a good enough reason for you to let him do anything?"