"This is where things get iffy." Peter said, looking Neal over. The young man was dressed well as usual. Peter was wishing he could find a bullet proof vest that went with his rat pack style. It would save him some worry.
"I'll be fine. It's not like I've never done this before."
"Your luck can't hold out forever. You've already gone through more lives than a cat!"
"Who needs more lives when I have the legendary Agent Burke backing me up?" Neal smiled brightly.
Peter snorted. "The legendary Peter Burke is going to be a block away in a van, at least."
"Told you the FBI should've given me lessons in self defense. Think how much better you'd sleep!"
"I'd sleep less, because you'd be even more overconfident than you already are."
"I'm not overconfident. There is no such thing as an overconfident for a con man. Even if he's working for the law." Neal studied his new forgery at arm's length with some not unjustifiable pride.
Peter admired it as well. It was one of those odd things about art, he couldn't approve of breaking the law but he could admire Neal's forgery skills. They were impressive.
"Neal, we can't keep letting these guys sell this stuff. They are using this art as currency for the drug trade."
"I know." Neal nodded firmly. "And believe it or not, poisoning kids is not something I'm okay with."
"Never thought you were." Peter cocked his head and studied him. "But I do wonder sometimes. You do realize that sometimes terrorists and murderers use forgers right? How can you be sure that you would recognize them to turn them down?"
"No terrorists or murderers were involved in the bond forgery." Neal continued to ponder his Caffrey Van Gogh.
"And the other stuff?"
"Alleged other stuff?" Neal looked at Peter. "Like the alleged other stuff involving Wilkes? You know as soon as I find out the kind of people they are I pull out and pull the rug out from under them. I'm sure you heard Wilkes ranting and threatening about it."
"Among others. What if you found out too late?"
Neal hesitated, touching the painting lightly to confirm it was truly dry. "We'd better crate it just to be sure. I told these guys it would take longer but they are in a hurry."
Peter wasn't surprised Neal changed the subject. "They need to replace their drug shipment and for that they need cash. And that" Peter motioned to the art, "is the cash."
This part of the plan had Neal more than a little reluctant but he wasn't about to admit that to Peter. Something felt off. He didn't trust these guys at all. The warehouse area they met at seemed a bit busier than he'd been expecting. He was still in sound of the neighboring dock workers. He hauled the crate out of the cab and set it by the door before knocking.
Harry opened it. He gave a half bow and smirk and held the door. "Welcome to our humble place of business."
Neal's internal alarms notched up their clanging at this. A friendly Harry was worse than a mean one.
"Where do you want it?" Neal hesitated to enter the building. The exchange of money and goods in the underworld was always a dangerous time. He could smell the stink of the river nearby and hear the waves and gulls. The air was damp. This warehouse backed right up to the water. Eyes on Harry, he nonetheless took in every person in the vicinity in the peripheral vision.
"Come in." Harry's voice was softened ice. Neal picked up the crate staggered through the door and half fell.
"Watch it you klutz!" Harry was furious and frightened as Neal stumbled against him, re-picking up the crated painting.
Neal had taken the split second Harry was pinned, to lift the weapon from his belt. But his alarm didn't diminish. If Harry was afraid of the painting being damaged, it meant serious consequences and someone to dole them out were nearby.
The building rattled under a good wind. The roof was tin and it sounded like a billion miniature drums. Neal again set the painting down on a wooden table. The room was filled with wooden boxes marked fine imports. He glanced in one, noticed wine, and knew Mozzie would have a field day in here. Carlson stepped around a column of boxes.
Before he could open the crate Neal said "Where's my share?"
Carlson held up a case and laid it on the table before Neal, as Neal checked his, he opened the painting crate. "Ah. Very nice. What did I tell you?"
Neal glanced up sharply to see who he was talking to.
Two other men and a woman with pale blond hair but a very bronze complexion stepped out. Neal got ready to give the take down signal.
The woman nodded. "Yes. Much better than the last one." She gave Neal a cold look, studying him like a prize horse. Normally, Neal would've turned on the charm. At the moment he felt a cold chill. She was dangerous. "But we still have to be concerned the Bergman's don't talk." She turned her gaze on Harry, who shrank back.
"They won't. They're too scared. They're on the run." He motioned to Neal. "But if anyone knows where they are it's him."
She looked back at Neal. "Scono?"
One of her large companions gripped Neal by the arm and pulled him forward. She gripped his chin. Caffrey tensed at the handling. Hiss eyes narrowed as they met hers. He tried to take a step back.
"Did you search him?"
"Not yet."
She started to pat him down, which he wouldn't have minded with another woman but this one gave him the creeps. He tried to take a step back. He started to give the take down phrase "I think I left the .. Ah!" He crashed down unconscious as the taser blasted him.
The van was stuck two blocks away, trapped behind produce trucks. Neal's interrupted sentence had them all running. They dodged fish vendors and lift dollies, running for the warehouse with guns drawn. They heard warning shouts and knew they'd been spotted. When they got there the found themselves in a shoot out with various low ranking drug dealers. Legitimate vendors scattered in panic. The roar of motors seemed to come from all directions. The NYPD, backing them up closed the circle.
"Where is he? Neal?" Peter yelled looking around the warehouse.
Diana looked around carefully. "I think this is where they were..." She held up Neal's fedora.
"Great. Unless there's another Sinatra wanna be around here, they've got him." Peter fretted.
"No blood, Boss." Diana pointed out.
"Here!" Jones yelled.
They rushed over to find the warehouse was built partly over a dock. Jones was standing there next to a body. For a terrified moment Peter thought it must be Neal, but then he saw the scruffy jeans and T shirt and realized Harry was down. Jones held something up, and light gleamed from the half open door out to the water. It hit the object. It was one of Neal's expensive cufflinks.
Peter grabbed Harry, who was stirring, holding one arm at his side and groaning. "OW! Hey! Brutality." Harry yelled as Diana and Jones cuffed him.
"Where is he? The guy with the hat. Where did they take him?"
"How would I know. I need a doctor. I'm not saying anything until I get a doctor!" Harry whined and sneered.
Peter glared at him. "It'll hurt a lot longer if we lose the paperwork in the system. By then the hospital will be full up with real emergencies..."
"You wouldn't." Harry's eyes narrowed. "I'll sue."
Peter leaned over and looked him in the eye. "Try me. I'll hit you with so many charges you'll never see daylight again.
"Or you could settle for just the charges reserved for low men on the totem pole." Diana observed.
"They'll find out and kill me."
"If anything happens to the guy they kidnapped, you'll go down as accessory to murder. Plenty of time for bad things to happen in prison with a charge like that."
Harry moaned. "Do you know what she'll do to me?"
"I'll make sure she thinks she has a reason too if you don't talk in time!" Peter growled.
