Since I can't post on Saturday, there will be another post today and then the next post will be on Sunday. I just have to say, I'm overwhelmed with the response I've received for the last chapter. Thank you all for your very generous comments and for reading.
Chapter IX
He woke.
It was dark. He was shivering, lying in a heap on the deck of his cabin in a pool of water, still in those soaked clothes he'd been in the night before. He didn't remember how he got back here. In fact the last thing he remembered was holding the razor over his wrist, thinking, thinking he could... His eyes opened wide with what he remembered. He was holding the razor over his head and he was seriously considering...
"Damn it, No damn it," he hit the floor with the palm of his hand over and over again. I wasn't thinking, Armeni was. It was a con and I bought into my own playacting, bought into my own submission and I let Armeni do all the thinking for me. Damn it. It had nearly broken him.
Neal was scared of what had happened. He'd acted like a god damn amateur, he'd lost control and let himself get sucked into the persona, forgetting what he was there for, forgetting who he was.
He shivered from the chill as a slight whiff of blood still came off from the damp material. Barely wanting to move he stripped out of the outfit as quickly as he could and stumbled into the shower where he lost what was left in his stomach and then scrubbed himself raw. But he couldn't scrub away the image in his mind of his hand holding that bloody razor as it butchered that poor girl. Even awake, the image changed for him, from holding the knife cutting her to him cutting himself.
The bandage on his right wrist came off in the shower. Fifteen stitches held the red edged wound together. That was the one he had done to himself, to try and trick Armeni. His left wrist was fine, he had not even touched it with the blade. Yet along with the flashbacks the blood oozed out, dripping onto the deck.
I tried to kill myself. He was caught between horror at what he was made to do and fear of what he almost did. Ironically it had been Armeni who had saved his life, for some sick, selfish reason no doubt, but he had. The bastard will probably demand I be grateful to him for it.
Neal painfully pulled himself up the shower stall to stand and maneuvered himself and the shower head so that the hot water pounded him on his shoulder, bringing some relief from the physical pain.
A plan, he needed a plan but the only possibilities Neal saw ahead of him were filled with pain, not only for himself but for those he cared for. How long would they care for him when they saw the evidence of his butchery? Would they take his word against the evidence? Was it worth it to even try?
While Armeni was suspected of almost every heinous crime there was, there'd never been any proof. In any court, they'd take Armeni's word against Neal's; he had first hand experience of the word of an assassin taken over his word that of a professional liar.
Sparing a glance at the clock, Neal saw he had barely an hour to write out a report for Peter and get to the dock side hatch to meet with Green. Neal felt rotten, aches and pains in every muscle and bone. Even his hair hurt. But this was what he had to do to get Armeni, to get the bastard and he was determined to do it.
Looking in the mirror, about to shave, Neal barely recognized the image staring back at him. He usually turned heads, he knew, but this time they'd be turned away. His eye, nearly swollen shut shown over a painfully swollen black and blue cheek, his shoulder, which he thought had only been strained, was also showing signs of bruising. The one good thing was with his face messed up the way it was, he didn't have to be quite as careful about his expression, I'm a glass is half full kind of guy, he chuckled mirthlessly, downing a couple of pain killers, tears escaping from his eyes, not all from the pain of just moving, as he finished dressing.
As Neal wrote out his report to hand to Green, he thought about what happened the previous night and the evidence against him in the vault. Plan, Option one, he could break into the vault, once he found it, and dispose of the evidence as easily as Armeni had disposed of the body. However then there would be no proof at all that the girl was ever there. They couldn't prove Neal had anything to do with it but then, they couldn't prove Armeni did either. Disadvantages. In order to build a case this has to be totally by the book. I break in and everything thereafter is tainted.
Option two, I can leave things as they are, follow orders to the letter (Would Peter actually believe I thought of this?) and report what happened, knowing that it is possible that once they got warrants and opened the vault that the evidence could be turned against me. While Neal did not believe he would ever gain Peter's complete trust, he knew that the man had his back and had proven in the past he'd go to the wall for him.
Peter might not believe that Neal didn't steal something but he would believe that Neal would not butcher anyone. The thought not only steadied Neal emotionally but it helped him get a little of his own back. What happened to him was secondary. What was important was making sure that that girl's true murderer saw justice and lying about it now would not help matters later.
They may never believe me, but at least I'l know I'm telling the truth and my actions will back me up. He didn't know if this was the smartest thing he'd ever done or the dumbest but he decided, no mater what the consequences were for him, as he wrote his report out, he detailed the events as clearly as he could remember.
Neal made it down to the dockside hatch just as Green was about to leave and called out to him. "Again with the disbelieving eyes,' he smiled as best he could as Green looked up and down at Neal snapping pictures. "I really wish you wouldn't do that."
"Neal, please you have got to come with me now. Have you looked in a mirror this morning? Please, I don't want to leave you here to get killed for the sake of an operation."
"Yeah, I looked. I'm going for the 10 rounds with Mike Tyson look today."
Green did not look amused
"Larry, I can't leave now. There's an important dinner going on tonight. Armeni has," Neal hesitated for a moment, "he's done some things he thinks will insure that he can trust me. He'll be keeping me close during that dinner, probably showing off his control. But that means his guard will be down and I'll hear things and see things I wouldn't otherwise."
Green accepted the report Neal gave him. "Be here tomorrow morning. Be here and be ready to leave. Understand, no matter what," said Green.
"Okay, no matter what."
As soon as Neal returned from the dockside hatch he was summoned to Armeni's presence, this time the inner sanctum of Armeni's rooms, his study.
He knocked and waited until he was told to enter and then as he opened the door, he barely contained his awe. Hanging on the walls and displayed around the room had to be the mother lode. Even doing no more than glancing at the walls, Neal counted at least 50 major works of art, some had been looted by the Nazis and never seen since except in art history books, one stolen more recently from the French Museum of Modern Art, at least 10 Picassos, a Da Cortona, a Vidal, a Fischer, a few Hoppers and those were only the paintings.
This is a test, I know it is. He could not be curious, he could not seem interested, and it was none of his concern and so he 'nervously,' fingered his tie clip only a few times to snap pictures of as much of the collection as he could.
Neal kept his face as blank as possible as he approached Armeni who was sitting behind a huge walnut desk, conversing with Link and a few staff directors Neal had interacted with only slightly since he'd come aboard.
Armeni seemed neutral at Neal's approach yet this could mean he was pleased with Neal so far or he'd come up with another way to torment him or anything in between.
"Haldon, I have your complete loyalty?"
Neal thought of the girl Armeni had used him to kill.
"Yes sir."
"I have our obedience?"
Neal thought of the dry shave he'd given himself.
"Yes sir."
"I can trust you?"
Barely containing his hatred, while imagining how the evidence he hoped to find would be used by at least 10 countries while they fought it out as to which would get custody of Armeni's carcass so they could throw his ass into their finest correctional establishments, Neal replied, "Yes, sir."
"Then join us, this concerns your duties for tonight."
The meeting went on for two hours. All the logistics of serving dinner to 225 people were reviewed.
"You're new to my service so I'll go over the plan with you. I have acquired objects of great value from all over the world in order to fulfill the requests of an elite list of customerst who look upon the acquiring of art as a demonstration of their power and their wealth, a way to enhance their reputations in certain circles. But the means of my acquisition is frowned upon and my customers must hide their new baubles from sight. This defeats their purpose. They need to have word spread yet to do so in the usual manner would have certain undesirable elements sniffing around..
"I came upon the plan to have a great party, an event, if you will, where all my customers could come and gaze upon all the art I've acquired for them as well as for others. Of course, I always have some other work available for sale as well. This helps them solidify their power and gives me a reason to more than double my price, my profit.
"It is most important that the service given these customers is impeccable. I leave that to you Haldon."
Armeni went on and on until he spoke about the tours his guests would have of the vault.
Neal's ears perked up at that, because while he knew there was a vault, he had as yet been unable to locate it. Neal was surprised to learn that the art hanging on the walls was not to be removed. It was art that was kept in a vault in Armeni's office, the same vault that held the evidence that could be used to convict Neal or Armeni of murder.
Armeni continued his instructions. Neal's staff would be serving drinks up to and until the last guest left for bed.
"I trust you, Haldon. You will be there with brandy in hand even into the vault if so requested by my guests."
"Yes sir.'
Even with all the preparatory activity going on, Neal finally had the time to transmit an updated report to Peter positively identifying many of the pieces of art on the walls as stolen pieces, though admitting that they could be very good forgeries unless he could get closer to them.
However he could also tell him he would get a chance to see the art in the vault and be close enough to make as positive a mere visual identification could be. The guests would be staying the night, their artwork crated and sent with them when they left the following day. The FBI could nail Armeni for selling stolen artwork and the guests for buying it.
As Neal put away the transmitter, he saw the door to Armeni's room slowly close and his heart sunk. Though Neal hadn't said a word, somebody saw him using Armeni's phone. He closed his eyes and though he didn't remember the last time he was in a church for the purpose of prayer, he offered up one right now. Armeni seemed amazingly creative in ways to torment him, upping it more than a notch every time. If his breech got back to him, Neal didn't know if he'd survive the next level.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
As he viewed the pictures sent by Green that day, Peter felt sick to his stomach. The left side of Neal's face was one huge bruise with his eye swollen shut, and Peter didn't know how the man was standing on his feet. There was a vacancy to his one good eye that Peter had never seen and it was obvious that any movement of his right arm caused him pain. Beyond that, in the way Neal held himself, Peter could tell that the man was terrified and stressed to his last nerve. Neal was no coward and he used his fear to focus, but there was something else going on here which Peter could not fathom without seeing Neal in person.
When he read Neal's report the answer came clear. Given Neal's nature, which Peter knew well, he didn't know how he was remaining sane after this, if he even was still sane. If Armeni was in his office right now, Peter would not be held responsible for his actions. Why the megalomaniac seemed to have taken on a fascination with Neal was beyond him but it was evident that he was doing his best to break him.
Yet Neal appeared to be holding it together even if it was just barely. He had reported the murder of Armeni's mistress and how he had been used. Then he reported how he'd almost killed himself.
Peter nearly choked. "Oh, Neal." In the privacy of his office, the hard nosed federal agent was not ashamed of the few tears that came to his eyes, though he quickly wiped them away. His jaw set, Peter was not going to let this go on. He was going to drag Neal back here in chains if he had to. He read through the rest of the report carefully looking for other signs of Neal's mental state. Knowing Neal as he did, the report was either a major lapse in judgment or Neal was so focused on getting Armeni that he was willing to risk whatever might happen to him. However, as far as building a case against Armeni, it was the best thing Neal could have done. But when has Neal ever thought about the best legal options where there were so many illegal ones that would serve better? Peter just hoped that Neal would not be driven to resort to those.
Peter read Green's report which indicated that despite Neal's promise, he was sure that Neal would not leave on his own, until he was sure he had gotten every bit of evidence against Armeni possible. The way things were going, Peter was worried that Neal might not leave until he… no he would not finish that thought.
Peter knew what he wanted to do, but he was going to think it through, every aspect, before he played devil's advocate to his own plan. If there was a better, safer way, to get Neal off that ship, he wanted to find it, but after an hour, he couldn't. He made his decision and asked Hughes for a few minutes of his time.
Later that afternoon, Peter was called back into Hughes office and offered a seat.
"This report Caffrey turned in..."
"Armeni is known to be a manipulative bastard. I have no doubt that Neal is telling the truth. I'll stake my career on it."
"That's exactly what we are staking, Peter. Caffrey is disruptive, treats criminal investigation as a game and isn't above cutting corners but I can't say his heart isn't in the right place. He's not a killer. He wants these guys in prison. He is doing this by the book. I'm sure once we get the evidence, our forensic team will analysis it. They will find the proof to back Neal up."
"Agreed, will that be all?"
"For now."
Peter, stood up to leave, sure his request to go after Neal had been denied. He'd have to find another way.
"By the way Troy Miller has skipped bail," Hughes said as an afterthought to Peter just as he reached the door. Peter smiled to himself and then schooled his features quickly to investigative concern and turned back.
"Does anyone know where he is?"
"No, I don't believe so but rumor is he's lying low until tonight when he'll be picked up by Armeni's helicopter and taken to the Regnum Atros to meet with Armeni. It seems Armeni never paid him and he wants his money."
"They've never met?" asked Peter.
"No, according to Miller, they never did. Miller's MO has always been to avoid contact with clients so that if they decide to turn him in, they can't identify him. Besides, he knows we have him dead to rights on the explosion. Flipping on Armeni was the only way to get a reduced sentence. If he's lying, it's back to life without possibility of parole.
"Okay, then."
Hughes bent back to the mounds of work on his desk.
Suddenly Peter put a hand to his stomach, and sat down heavily in the guest chair groaning. "You know Reece; I'm not really feeling very well. I think I have a case of the flu so I'm going home and I probably won't be in for a few days, maybe a week."
Hughes looked up at him. "Damn it, Burke, you're sick now? Get out of here and don't you dare infect anyone in this office. That's all I need. The flu can wipe out half the building in a week. Then the same idiots who have it come in with high temperatures, fever that comes and goes, upset stomach. Go home, you'll need uninterrupted rest so I won't expect to hear from you either. I want you to stay away from work until your 100 percent, you got me."
"Got it."
Hughes stood up as Peter moved to leave and the men shook hands, "Good luck Peter, and bring that pain in the ass project of yours back here, preferably in one piece."
