First of all, once again thanks to my wonderful betas canadianscanget and mam711. I'd be lost without you!
This chapter was so much fun to write even when it got me worried every once in a while and it still does. So, tell me what you think, will you? I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: White Collar owns me, not the other way round. And I also don't own any rights for Billy Joel's song or its lyrics.
Slow down you crazy child
You're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart tell me why
You are still so afraid?
Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?
You better cool it off before you burn it out
You got so much to do and only
So many hours in a day
But you know that when the truth is told
That you can get what you want
Or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through
When will you realize?
Vienna waits for you
Billy Joel, Vienna
Five minutes.
Neal sighed.
It had only been five minutes since he last checked his cell phone.
Nothing had changed.
It sat in front of him – silent.
He knew it would be another two to three hours before Peter and Richter sent Schröder in as David Hall to make the exchange with their borrowed manuscript. From what he knew of Schröder, the man was capable, and could probably pull a David Hall off – green eyes and all. Basically everyone on the team knew their job, right? Nothing to worry about. He knew Peter would be tied up for hours and probably wouldn't call immediately. He knew Richter would probably make a call to him difficult. What Neal knew more than anything else was that he couldn't quell the annoying jumpiness that kept him waiting for the anticipated call from Peter.
The phone still sat silently in front of him. No missed calls.
Neal paced around the small kitchen area. He opened a bottle of wine – decided that Bordeaux was only worth drinking when it was a Château. He opened another bottle – decided he was too used to wine to find it relaxing. He contemplated not drinking wine for an extended period. He took another mouthful of wine, relaxed, and… checked his phone again.
It was official – this whole Nibelungen heist would drive him crazy.
Calling Mozzie and requesting his company would have been the next step in any other situation but in this case it wasn't an option. Mozzie had taken a risk spreading the word about David Hall. Oberon was smart; if he managed to chase Hall back to Mozzie and Mozzie to Neal and then possibly to the FBI – his friend's company wasn't worth taking that risk.
Risk. Neal chortled; everything had become a risk since Anna surfaced. He had absolutely no doubt she was part of this whole mess, which made it even more likely that this wouldn't end well.
Of all people: Anna von der Hagen…
She kept finding her way back into his thoughts. He didn't know what it was that made it so hard to shake her from his head. Anna had never really been of any particular significance. She was fun, bright, intelligent – a quick study and an equally excellent teacher – a few months of adventure but nothing more. As far as he knew, she felt the same way about him. Still, whenever he thought about her pale green eyes, glimmering with levity, his memory of their time together stung more than he realized it ever would. Maybe in the end it had been the frosty but natural casualness in her departing betrayal that had hit him so hard.
The phone was still silent.
Neal could remember the day he first met Anna as if it was yesterday.
She had left Berlin to be a visiting professor at the University of Vienna, while he had been visiting the city for less scientific reasons – the Imperial Treasury of Vienna, to be exact. The Treasury had been – and to Neal's regret still was – in possession of an emerald vessel. The gem weighed almost 3000 carats and was of sublime quality: deep vivid green, beautiful clarity and transparency, carved by Dionysio Miseroni in 1641 to form an unguentarium – a vessel. In the 17th century the Grand Duke of Florence had been willing to pay three tons of gold for the masterpiece.
Neal was sure that the stone was worth about a hundred million dollars on the current market. He smiled at how careless and venturesome he had been.
He hadn't expected the security measures at the treasury to be that good. Reality had shown its brutal face pretty soon; Neal had spent a week devising plans to bypass the tight security but eventually he had given up on the emerald vessel. The stone that got away… He had decided to stay in the city for a few more days. The collections of the Museum of Fine Arts, the Belvedere, and most of all the Albertina, were amazing and enough to distract him in the short term.
Neal had been sauntering along the circular road that connected one historical building to another; the frustration of not getting the emerald had slowly been gnawing at him. That frustration had ended in boredom and finally in the idea to use the opportunity to practice other, more subtle, skills. Tourists were easy targets; there was no thrill in picking someone's pocket when they were excited by the beauty of the city. But residents – oh, residents had been a challenge. He had just passed by City Hall and was walking towards the university when he spotted the well-dressed woman digging around in her leather purse, probably Italian like her shoes. Neal hadn't been able to suppress a smile; rich women had a weakness for expensive shoes.
It should have been an easy grab and go. He had moved over to her quickly, but not too fast. When he spotted her wallet, at the very last moment he stretched out his hands to pick it, only a sudden drag on his wrist had thrown him off balance. He had found his arm caught by the woman he had been about to rob, and who looked at him with a smirk.
"Kann ich Ihnen behilflich sein?"
Neal had swallowed hard; something like this had never happened before.
"Uhm, I'm sorry, I just…"
The women looked like the cat that ate the canary.
"You just tried to steal something from me. And you are pretty good, I have to admit."
"What gave me away?"
She had chuckled.
"You were watching me for almost a minute without flirting. And you already have three wallets in your jacket…"
Neal had started to understand.
"You know about this stuff…"
"Call it the family business."
She had introduced herself as Prof. Anna von der Hagen, last heir of the great academic dynasty. Obviously the family was still trying to carry their most famous ancestor's legacy and not only by holding a chair at a university. Friedrich Heinrich von der Hagen had stolen a fragment of the Codex Sangallensis from the Abbey of St. Gall; his descendant had higher targets even when she hadn't become a thief yet. She had been a fence when Neal met her and the two of them had realized early on that they could achieve quite a bit if they worked together. Anna had organized a room for Neal even though he hadn't been in need of one very often; Anna's bed had been large enough for both of them. They had filled their days with a shared passion for art, and art theft. It wasn't long before they started planning a heist that became legendary.
The phone still sat silent but this time more than five minutes had passed.
Neal sipped from his Bordeaux. He wondered when exactly the easygoing relationship with Anna had begun to mean so little to the woman he considered to be a partner. He still had no answers to his questions. When he had seen Anna's name on Peter's list this morning, he hadn't thought it through. Jones had thrown him out before he could do so much as find the right words to greet her after all this time. Now, with Richter having him practically expelled, he had every right to fear he would never find out why Anna had left him in the middle of their heist without a word. Neal just underestimated one aspect in his musings – the devil isn't far when you speak of him.
This time Neal's attention wasn't drawn to the phone; rather, he was ripped out of his thoughts by a harsh knock. Neal had no idea who would be visiting him: Mozzie had strict instructions not to come by, every agent he knew was out preparing for the Hall operation, and June wasn't at home. He half expected to find Alex standing in front of him again when he opened the door. A woman, yes. Alex, no.
"Good evening, Neal. I hope my visit isn't unpleasant for you. We got interrupted this morning…"
She shot him a smile and once again he was captured by her imperfect beauty. Her slanting eyes were wide-set, her nose and chin too pointed but her hair somehow managed to cover that aspect. And her lips… a soft frame for her perfect teeth. Neal swallowed and reminded himself that he loathed this woman.
"Why are you here, Anna? Better still, how did you find me?"
She took a few tiny steps and was inside his apartment before he could do anything about it.
"A 'Nice to see you' would have also worked, but if you want to talk business right away… fine with me. Relax, you don't have to worry; I think the watchdogs have yet to realize I'm no longer in the hotel bar."
Peter had listened to his warning about Anna; two German police officers should have been watching Anna's every step after her interview this morning. Should have…
"It doesn't matter that you're not being watched. What do you want?"
Anna walked over to Neal's table and leaned against its edge. She took the glass of wine, sipped and grimaced.
"I never understood why you were so into red ones. Thought I converted you to white wine when we drank that Morillon… Do you remember?"
Neal did. He also remembered the night, their last night together.
"All too well. White wine always tastes a bit sour since we drank that Morillon... Will we talk about wine all night?"
She walked over to him and reached for his face. He drew back and she crossed her arms protectively.
"You look good…"
He snorted.
"No thanks to you."
Her face lightened up.
"Oh come on, Neal. Are you still mad at me because of what happened in Israel? Be honest with yourself for once – are you telling me you truly believed your plan was going to work? I mean, carrier pigeons; seriously, come on!"
Neal glared at her, forced his voice to remain quiet.
"Well, I got news for you: It worked. It did. Only my partner – who I trusted – wasn't there to pick me up after I got the manuscripts."
"I don't understand what your problem is… It's not as if you died there or anything."
"I almost did, Anna. And you didn't even check to see if I'd been shot by the damn security guards. You would have left me there to die, even when we both knew the guards were armed and I had an almost non-existent chance to get outta there without your help."
Anna bristled and started to turn away when Neal grabbed her arm and drew her close. Her pale cheeks turned red and a vein on her forehead started to show.
"Let go!"
"Oh no… First you tell me why you did it; why did you abandon me?"
She spit the words out as if they had left a bitter taste on her tongue.
"Because you did it for her! The whole reckless heist with birds and manuscripts bringing too much heat, too much attention for us to get away safely – it wasn't about us. It wasn't about me. You did it for her."
Her eyes filled with tears of anger but not a single tear fell. Neal let go of her arm and stepped back.
"Kate… but… I thought we were-"
Anna interrupted him, still angry but a little calmer.
"What… friends with benefits?" She gave a bitter laugh. "Yeah, I figured. I liked you, Neal. And I'd be lying if I said I hadn't enjoyed my time with you. But I'm not a painting you can set aside when it no longer holds your eye. I was there, Neal, waiting for you, and all the pieces suddenly fell together. You can't blame me for not being part of a heist that was only a neat little trick for you, impressing your ex-girlfriend like nothing else mattered. You acted like a damn peacock on display!"
All these years he had never understood what had caused Anna to leave. The whole time he never once considered that it could have been his fault that she had walked away from him. She looked at him with glassy eyes and suddenly his anger fell away.
"I'm sorry…"
She smiled sadly.
"Yeah, me too… Did you really almost die?"
He cocked his head.
"Nah, it was a graze. Nothing serious."
Neal frowned when he remembered their current situation.
"Did you kill the guard?"
She started to fumble with her scarf and Neal already knew the answer.
"He caught me. It wasn't supposed to happen."
Neal drew in a sharp breath and looked upwards.
"Jesus, Anna…"
"Stop it." She said it without any pressure. "Stop pretending."
It was like a slap in the face.
"What?"
Her lips opened a little bit when she stepped closer, reaching for his face once again. This time he flinched but didn't pull back. She touched his cheek. Her hands were as cold as they had always been.
"You always try to see the best in the people around you, Neal. That's okay. But don't be naïve. This blind trust – one day it will cost you. I almost got you killed and still you're right here with me. I'm telling you I killed a man and you still look at me as if I could change as long as I try hard enough."
He took her hand and pulled it down.
"Anna, I..."
"Listen to me… People don't change. They never do. And as long as you keep putting your trust into everyone just to prove to yourself that you can change, you will lose."
Deep inside he knew she was right about herself but he didn't want to admit that she could be right about him as well.
"I suppose you can go, then. If you can't change and if you're not willing to, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for you. I'm just telling you right now – the FBI will catch you. They won't let you get away with this."
She smiled and the shimmer in her eyes made him shudder.
"I need your help. Someone is after me."
"Oberon."
She lifted an eyebrow.
"Oberon?"
"The mastermind behind the Nibelungen heists. I named him after Alberich."
"You still remember what I told you about the Nibelungenlied…"
All of that seemed to have happened in a different life. Neal shook his head.
"They've always been your favorite. How do you know he's after you?"
She turned around and sat down at his table. She seemed to abandon her distaste for red wine and downed the remainder of his glass.
"My room… It was turned upside down when I returned."
Neal sat down next to Anna and refilled the glass for her. Once again his curiosity was stronger than his good intentions.
"The manuscript?"
"Safe for now."
"Why did you come here?"
She leaned towards him and touched his arm.
"Neal, I'm not safe. I have no idea what'll happen and I need someone to kno-"
They both heard heavy steps nearing his apartment door. Her eyes widened in shock and Neal put his finger against her lips to quiet her. He quickly walked towards the door.
The door burst open and three men pushed into the apartment. One of them grabbed for Neal, but he ducked and twisted away. The intruder stumbled but caught himself early enough to keep Neal from reaching the knife block in the kitchen. He grappled Neal and brought him hard to the floor. Neal scrambled forward but the anklet allowed the man to gain a solid grip and pull Neal back towards him. Neal prayed the device would break and set the alarm off. He prayed in vain. The man kicked him hard in the stomach. He gasped for air but kicked wildly until he hit his attacker's knee. The man cried out and Neal rolled to the side and took his chance to draw himself up. He saw Anna cornered by the other two men. Neal yanked the bottle of wine from the table and hurled it at the attackers; it glanced off one attacker and shattered against the wall next to Anna. She turned to protect her face and eyes. It was the chance the second muscle had been waiting for. He grabbed Anna's wrist and yanked her forward and off balance. She yelped in pain and fear. Neal stepped toward her. Something heavy came down on the back of his head before he could manage more than two steps. He buckled to his knees. Another two blows fell heavily across his neck and shoulders. A sharp pain rose from his skull over his nose into his teeth. His vision started to blur.
Nausea swept over him as he tried in vain to reach Anna. He heard the man behind him chuckle. The man shoved by him and joined the other two men who were dragging Anna away. Neal squeezed his eyes shut as pain and nausea swept over him again. He couldn't recall what to do in a situation like this. Thinking straight was getting hard but… yes, he knew what he was–
The phone started ringing.
Now – now, after all his waiting.
Now, when he was writhing in pain.
Now, when his feet wouldn't carry him.
Now, the phone was ringing.
He knew he needed to do something… Peter–
Neal tried to reach the phone but couldn't.
He knew he needed to… stay awake… talk to Peter because of… something. It was important, but he couldn't remember what it was. His head hurt. He gingerly touched his head and wondered where the blood came from.
He didn't fall into the darkness; it simply hit him, leaving him without any chance to fight it. He let himself fall back and closed his eyes.
Peter would have to wait.
