Chapter 10: A True Slytherin?

When Neal entered the FBI headquarters the next morning, Diana sidled up to him and whispered that Peter wanted to speak to him. The look in her eyes didn't quell his anxieties. What had he done wrong now? Nevertheless, it was with a falsely confident air that he strolled to Peter's office and leaned against the door frame with casual elegance.

"Where were you last night?" Peter demanded immediately.

"Went home," Neal said.

Peter fixed him with a stare that demanded the truth. "Really?"

"Yes, really." A pause. "Mozzie came over, too."

Peter grimaced. "I knew it. What are you two planning?"

"Nothing! I had Mozzie take a look around your house."

"My house? Why?"

Neal eased himself into the room and lounged on a chair. "Different perspective."

"What did he discover that escaped the eyes of our trained forensics team?"

Neal smiled slightly. "As I haven't seen the reports from your trained forensics team, I don't know."

"Don't play games, Neal. This is personal. What did Mozzie find?"

Neal knew enough not to push him further. "Nothing. By all accounts, your wall should still be there. No fragments of any blast, bomb, or physical explosion."

"That's it?"

Neal sighed. "Peter, cut him some slack. Mozzie's salivating over the possibility that aliens blasted your wall with a ray-gun and this is one huge cover-up."

The corners of Peter's lips lifted into a smile. "It's that good?"

"It's that clean. Whoever did this used something we can't identify superficially. Let's hope your labs can disprove Mozzie's conspiracy theory."

Peter chuckled. "Let's just say I have more faith in my scientific team than yours."

"That hurts, Peter. It really does."

"Live with it."

Secretly, Neal could handle a few insults if it meant Peter cheered up again. "What happened with your suspect last night? Hermione certainly had a change of heart, didn't she? Do you think their fight earlier was a show?"

"No, based on all three of their actions last night, that group has some mutual animosity for each other. Maybe you can wheedle it out of the three, but our slippery suspect didn't want to talk to me." Peter sipped his coffee.

"A charismatic man like yourself?" Sarcasm laced Neal's remark, but Peter played along.

"Can't imagine why not. Maybe you can get some info from him as well. He spoke to Hermione alone."

"Wait, you let him speak to her alone?"

A glare. "I didn't 'let him' as you so aptly put it."

Now Neal was confused. "She sneaked in? Specifically to speak to the suspect?" He laughed aloud at Peter's curt nod. "This is priceless."

"I never pegged them for con artists, but Harry and Ron distracted me while Hermione slipped in. Took me quite a while to catch on." Peter's expression soured at the memory.

Neal still chuckled appreciatively at the plan. "A classic Patty Lou. Nice!"

"They gave me a brief overview on what he said. It's the usual 'wrong place, wrong time' bit. Hermione did let slip that Malfoy admitted his intentions were to buy the horn."

"You run a check on him?"

Peter held up a sheet of paper. "First thing I did when I walked in last night. He's clean. No record of anything."

Neal glanced over the blank sheet with No Results Found in tiny print. "I wonder what the story is between them."

"Grill them if you want. Just help me get something that can either incarcerate this man or free him. I dislike loose ends."

"And this is a loose end? Seems to me like it's a flimsy excuse."

Peter shook head. "Something about it makes me want to believe them. The fundamental basic truth behind their secrets, at least. My gut tells me he's not our man."

"Trust the gut," Neal intoned.

"What I'm trusting right now is you marching over to the interrogation room and prying some information from Malfoy before the others arrive."

"I'm on it," Neal said with a cheery wave. He nearly collided with Diana on the way out.

"Boss, you're not going to like this," she said, not bothering to apologize to Neal. "Atherton's waiting downstairs, requesting to speak with you. Jones went down to stall him but he's on his way. Just giving you a heads up."

Peter swore under his breath. "Great, just what I need now." He spied Neal still standing there. "Go. I'll handle Atherton. It's probably best that he doesn't see you here."

With a short nod to Peter, Neal scurried away from the office, immensely relieved he didn't have to face Atherton and feeling a pang of pity for Peter. He definitely got the better end of this arrangement.

Twenty minutes later, Neal wondered if he could change places. Lucius Malfoy was sitting in the chair, still dressed in his evening attire from the night before. He raised an eyebrow when Neal walked in.

"Mr. Halden," he said, the arrogant disdain Neal sensed from the previous evening thick in his voice.

"Actually, it's Neal Caffrey," he said, deciding to start fresh. "I'm a consultant for the FBI."

"Really?" From his intoned drawl, Neal suspected Lucius wasn't the least bit surprised by this revelation. "So then Miss Granger was being truthful when she said she had married a Weasley. How... droll."

"You disapprove?"

"No," Lucius replied. "They deserve each other." Neal suspected he didn't mean he wished them well.

"The three of them are assisting the FBI with another investigation."

"The disappearance of the Horn of Amalthea." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes. I heard you were in town seeking to acquire it."

"Indeed."

The candid admission surprised Neal. "Do you know who stole it?"

"I had assumed Wade Talmon."

"But not anymore?"

Lucius' lip curled slightly. "The man is a bloody fool. I realized that last night. He does not have the horn."

"Who do you think has it now?"

Lucius sneered at him. "Isn't that your job, hmm?"

Neal shrugged and decided to change tactics. "How do you know the other three?"

Lucius stiffened slightly. "Our paths have crossed in the past."

"Really?" Now it was Neal's turn for some heavy sarcasm. "I never would have guessed."

Not one to be out-done, Lucius leveled a frosty glare at him. "My son was in the same year during school."

"So why do you have the grudge?"

"My son disliked them. And they him. It was a mutual animosity."

"That still doesn't explain why you hate them."

Amusement flickered across Lucius' face. "I didn't say I hate them. They might hate me, but the accurate word to describe my emotions might be more along the lines of 'disdain'."

Neal sighed. This man was irksome. "Okay, why do you 'disdain' them so much?"

"The Weasley family and mine have always been at odds. I dislike his father as much as his father dislikes me. The Granger girl has a particularly soiled lineage. And Potter... well, his list is much too numerous."

"Really?" Neal had expected a rather long story based on the tension between them last night. This was almost tame in comparison. Maybe Lucius wasn't telling him everything. "That seems like a rather petty excuse."

Rather than rile the man, Lucius actually smiled at the thin barb, his cold gray eyes crinkling with mirth as if he knew a joke to which Neal was not privy. "I think they may also harbor some grudge stemming from the belief that I attempted to end their lives prematurely."

"You tried to kill them?" This was getting better now.

Lucius sniffed, fixing Neal with a superior stare. "Not directly, I assure you, with the exception of a misplaced bout of anger on my part that was aimed at Potter near the end of his second year. They do seem to hold me somewhat responsible for the near-death of Weasley's sister during the same time period and the heartbreaking events at the end of their fifth year. Though, I assure you, the resulting consequences from that little escapade should have long since negated any harsh feelings but you know how people and grudges are. Truthfully, except for a lingering sense of disdain, I don't view them with any more emotion than I would a passing stranger."

This was very interesting. Neal made a note to ask the three specifically about these claims and gauge their reactions. "So why does Hermione insist you're innocent?"

"Because I am."

"Why would she defend you after your sordid past?"

Lucius huffed and rolled his eyes. "Please," he insisted, "don't make it appear we have some dirty affair going on. Miss Granger is a Gry- uh, a special kind of person, and as such, all of her kind deem it necessary to defend the wrongfully accused. Even those such as myself. Between you and me, I am rather enjoying the irony of it all."

"I don't see any irony," Neal said, choosing to ignore Malfoy's slip. He'd be sure to work that into his conversation with the other three later, however.

Lucius shot an enigmatic smile at him. "Of course you wouldn't."

"Care to tell me what happened last night? Peter said you wouldn't talk to him but you talked to Hermione."

"She's going to prove my innocence. I felt it necessary to provide her with details. Your Peter, however, seems intent on incarcerating me. That reminds me, may I have my cane back?"

"No. It's in evidence." Honestly, he didn't know where Lucius' cane was but the smug man didn't need to know that.

Lucius pursed his lips in annoyance, but didn't comment on the matter.

"Peter's just trying to find the truth," said Neal. "Right now, an uncooperative suspect is looking like a nice murderer."

Unruffled, Lucius managed to look down his nose at Neal. How he did so from a sitting position baffled Neal, and a small part of him desperately wished he could learn how to perfect such a move. "I am innocent. It is your job to figure out the real murderer. If I have to keep repeating myself to such simpletons, may I speak to Miss Granger? She at least is an adequate verbal sparring partner. If I'm to be cooped up here, I'd rather keep my wits sharp."

"I'll pass on your sentiments to her. I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear your compliments."

"She won't believe you." A knowing look entered his eyes. "But you can try. Please inform me of the outcome."

Peter entered then, the corners of his eyes crinkled in irritation. Neal guessed that Atherton gave him a hard time.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"We're off the case."

"What?" Neal stood in shock. Lucius blinked as well.

"I'm free to go?" he asked.

Peter glanced to him and for the first time realized that he was there. "Different case," he amended. "Atherton informed me that he no longer needs my services because his recovery team found the horn for him."

"Impossible."

Peter shrugged. "That's what he said. It's back at his home."

"Can we see it?" Neal asked. "For verification."

"I asked," Peter said, "Atherton declined. In fact, he said he was refusing to allow any agent into his home for any reason." Peter shook his head. "No matter, it's out of our hands. Now we can focus all of our time on the murders."

"Murders? More than one?" Both men turned to Lucius Malfoy, studying them with a gleam in his eye. "You failed to mention that fact."

"Different case," Peter barked.

"Is it?" The smug expression on Lucius' face bothered Neal. Apparently, it annoyed Peter as well.

"Yes. The second murder occurred several nights ago, in..." he began, then a strange look passed over his features. "Several nights ago..." he repeated slowly. "Behind..."

Lucius, who had been trying to follow Peter's logic before he trailed off in thought, prompted him like one might encourage a child. "Yes, several nights ago... go on... behind where?..."

Neal ignored the obnoxious man and focused on Peter and his trance-like state. Suddenly, the agent darted from the room. As Neal followed, he heard an exasperated cry from Lucius. They nearly ran into the three from England on their way out. Peter danced around them and continued to his office. Neal slowed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and waited for Peter to come back out.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, a bit baffled by the sudden rush.

Neal shrugged. "Beats me. One minute we were interrogating Malfoy and the next he gets this odd look of revelation on his face and runs out."

Peter returned, holding a file. He glanced at the four of them, then shook his head. "Won't work, already know," he muttered. He thought for a moment, then rushed back to the interrogation room. Bemused, the others followed.

Inside, Lucius Malfoy abandoned his previous stoicism for an expression of pure bewilderment. "Granger! At last! Tell me something semi-intelligent so that I may preserve my sanity!"

"Silence!" Peter barked. He slapped the open folder down on the table. Lucius looked down, then back up at Peter. Neal could see the crime scene photo of Eric Vinson. Peter glanced back at the four gathered. "Not a single word from any of you. This is critical."

Now Lucius looked wary, and rightfully so. He sneaked a subtle glance at the three but their puzzled expressions didn't help. "If we could all just take a deep breath," Lucius said in a low voice, attempting to calm the agent down.

"Knock it off," Peter ordered. "Look at this photo." His finger jabbed at Vinson's corpse. Lucius averted his eyes from the group and looked. "Where was he killed?"

The exasperated glare returned. "How should I know? I'm not a Seer, you incompetent fool!"

Peter leaned into Lucius. "Can you at least attempt a guess at a general location?"

"A city." Lucius spoke this with as much sarcasm and contempt as he could muster.

Peter dismissed Lucius and turned to Harry, who jumped at being put on the spot. "What did Talmon say when we showed him this photograph and told him Neal had been the one to discover the body?"

Harry thought hard. "He asked..." Suddenly, he gasped as understanding cleared his face. "He asked what Neal was doing behind the alley."

"Precisely." Peter smirked in triumph. "And as Mr. Malfoy just demonstrated, there was not a single indicator of how Talmon could have known that fact. Unless he was there. Elle asked where the body was found, but I didn't connect it at the time."

"So I can go now?"

"No."

Lucius glared at Peter. "Talmon was at the party last night."

"Yes, but that doesn't prove anything."

Lucius snapped his mouth shut and swept his cool gaze to the others in the room. "Have you three done anything to get me out of this infernal prison?"

"We're working on it, Mr. Malfoy," Harry assured him.

"How?"

Harry shot him a significant look, which Lucius didn't like but refrained from commenting anymore.

"Mr. Malfoy," Peter said. Lucius turned his attention to Peter. "We found a shoe print near the body."

"I was standing beside the body," Lucius replied, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

"This was discovered under the body. Indicating that the killer had been there before Darius was killed."

"And you want to examine my shoes?"

Peter smiled. "I knew you were smart."

Lucius removed his shoes and set them on the table with a loud snap. "I want them back immediately after you're finished," he said coldly.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," Peter said. He lifted the shoes. "Attache's Dragon Leather?" he said, reading off the brand on the sole.

"Do be careful with those," Lucius said. "I daresay they're worth more than Arthur Weasley's entire house."

Ron's face brightened to a fascinating shade of pink. Neal, suspecting an ensuing argument, stepped in smoothly. "What are we going to do about Atherton?" he asked, successfully deflecting attention from Lucius.

Peter shrugged. "It's out of our hands now."

"But not ours," Hermione interjected. "Our client still has claim to the horn. It's rightfully his."

"Like I said," Peter repeated slowly and carefully, fixing Neal with a pointed look, "it's out of our hands now. Atherton has it back at his house and he won't let my team verify his claim."

A slow smile crept onto Neal's face. "Peter, don't tell me you're approving this."

"I can't approve something I don't know about. Keep it that way." He turned and walked out of the room.

"Approve of what?" Hermione asked.

Neal leaned back on his heels. "Peter just gave me permission to steal the horn."

Harry idly wondered what other trouble he could get himself into. He currently had Lucius Malfoy depending on them (here, he still had to suppress a snicker when he thought about it) to clear his name, the Ministry relying upon them to retrieve the horn, and now Neal wanted him to be an accomplice to robbery. He very nearly wished for the days when all he had to worry about was whether or not Draco would knock him off his broom in the upcoming Quidditch match.

"Why me?" he moaned for the millionth time as Neal dragged him to Atherton's home. "And why now?"

"He won't suspect another attempt so soon," Neal muttered. "And you're small." At Harry's incensed glare, Neal coughed. "-Er. Smaller."

"I can't believe you're going to go through with this, Neal," a familiar voice spoke from beside Harry. He jumped and turned. Mozzie had fallen into a neat stride beside the two of them.

"Where did you come from?" Harry asked.

Mozzie ignored Harry and continued talking to Neal. "This is one of your stupider ideas," he said bluntly. "If Atherton discovers you, he'll take action. At the very least you'll go back to prison. The Suit won't protect you this time. At the most, you'll end up as fish food on the bottom of the Hudson."

Neal stopped and turned to Mozzie, rolling his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. I just won't get caught." And with a confident grin, he resumed walking.

Mozzie threw his arms up in exasperation. Harry, at least, could identify with him on this. "Neal! Be serious for once. You think it will be fun to tweak the nose of Atherton." He hurried to catch up to Neal.

"Don't you?"

"Beside the point. This house is a fortress. Not quite a Fortress of Solitude but it rivals a close second for impossible entry points."

"Vinson succeeded. Are you telling me a street punk can outsmart us?"

"And he's dead! Neal, it worries me you fail to fully grasp the situation."

Exasperated, Neal whirled on Mozzie. Harry hesitated a few steps behind them. "Are you going to help me or not?" Neal asked, glaring at Mozzie with an impressive evil eye. He must have been taking notes from Lucius Malfoy, Harry thought.

Mozzie shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "C'mon, man. When have I ever left you high and dry?"

A slow grin took over Neal's face. "Thanks," he said.

"Alex is hiding somewhere nearby," said Mozzie. He pulled out his phone. "She's supposed to send me the layout once she establishes it."

Neal raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Alex is helping? Why?"

Fixing his friend with a knowing stare, Mozzie said in a voice almost too soft to be heard, "Do you think Atherton's only affected your life?"

Neal smiled at him, a genuinely warm smile. "Will you be gracing us with your skills inside?"

Mozzie leaned back. "No, I was thinking I would run a little interference with Alex."

"Come on, I need someone to watch my back."

Mozzie nodded to Harry. "You have him."

"He's an amateur."

Harry bristled but couldn't really disagree. "I'm right here you know," he announced unnecessarily. Mozzie and Neal ignored him.

Mozzie gave Neal a comforting smile. "We got your back out here. Take him in and make us proud."

A ringing prevented Neal from answering. Mozzie extracted his phone and spoke briefly into it before hanging up. "Alex says Atherton's leaving now to go to his afternoon workout session. Now's the best chance we'll have."

"He doesn't have guards?" Neal asked, his voice sharpening into what Harry could only describe as professional. Neal had slipped into his element.

Mozzie shook his head. "Only the one out front. I'll distract him. Alex will keep watch. Oh, and Neal, keep your phone handy."

"Always do. Let's go, Harry."

Neal turned and headed to the mansion, with Harry trailing a half-step behind. Mozzie watched them leave with a content smile on his face. Then he took out his phone and dialed a number. "Let's go. We have our work cut out for us."

They approached Atherton's home, slowing as they neared to scout the place. Neal's phone buzzed and he glanced at it for a moment. "The guard's in the shack, but he just finished a round around the house, so we're good until his next circuit in-" he glanced at his watch, "-ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?" Harry exclaimed. "Isn't that cutting it close?"

Neal nodded, scanning the area absently. "That's why we have partners. Alex also said there are cameras around the perimeter. Think you can find them for me?"

"Me?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"You did well with the uniforms. Something tells me you can hide a lot better than the others give you credit for. If not, I can try to disable them somehow."

"No," Harry said, knowing that Neal spoke the truth. "I'll go. How many?"

"Three that we're worried about. They're around back."

"Meet you here?"

Neal nodded. "You got ten minutes," he reminded him.

Harry slipped away, edging along the pavement that would take him around the back of the home. He spotted the first camera right away and, slipping his wand out of his jacket pocket, was about to reduce it to a pile of plastic rubble when he thought better about it. He wished he had his invisibility cloak. He could just sneak up and unplug it. He frowned, thinking hard for a moment, then smiled.

"Aquari revolus," he mumbled, pointing his wand straight at the camera. A thin stream of water shot out of his wand and sped toward the camera. When it hit the target, the water spread to form a ball around the camera, essentially replicating dunking it into a pool of water.

Harry waited for the inevitable short-circuit but nothing happened. He frowned. The camera must be extremely weatherproof. He lowered his wand and the water splashed to the ground.

"Bother!" he exclaimed, finally aiming his wand at the camera with an annoyed, "Annullolevis!" Lightning crackled and the camera finally short-circuited as he blasted it with the spell. "One down."

Finding and neutralizing the other two proved exceptionally easy with his ability to knock them out at a long range. He headed back to join Neal just as the guard left his post.

"About time," Neal said. "I was about to go find you."

"Three cameras in ten minutes? Not a lot of time for me to work."

"Did you get them all?

Harry shot him an offended look. "Of course."

"Good. When the guard comes back, that's when we move."

"Ten minutes to get in, steal the horn, and get out? Doesn't sound like much time," Harry said doubtfully.

Neal pointed to the end of the block, where if Harry squinted he could spot Mozzie lurking in the shadows. "Mozzie will distract the guard at the eight minute mark. It will buy us enough time to get back out. If we're longer than fifteen minutes, we deserve to be caught anyway."

Harry wasn't at all comforted. Sure, he could just Apparate away, but then that would leave Neal behind. He hoped this plan worked. He really didn't want to share a jail cell with Lucius Malfoy.

"The guard's back. That's our cue. Let's go."

And with that, Neal started down the pavement, a reluctant Harry at his heels.

Neal darted over to the back door and withdrew from his pocket a thin leather wallet. He pulled out two small strips of metal and bent over the doorknob. After a moment of poking at the lock, the door popped open. Harry was surprised how fast he opened it without the use of an Unlocking Spell. They slipped inside and closed the door behind them. It shut with a soft click.

Inside, Neal headed to the main room, where he stopped short. "I had been so certain it would be here," he mumbled, glancing around at the suits of armor.

"I doubt he would keep it where it was stolen again," Harry reasoned.

Neal shot him a look of disbelief. "Atherton is arrogant and cocky. He wouldn't hesitate to put it in sight where every time he looked at it he would be reminded that he bested the FBI."

"Sounds like Lucius Malfoy," Harry muttered.

Neal studied him for a moment. "You guys really don't like each other, do you?" Neal headed into another room.

Harry shrugged. "We've had a bad past. It's hard to let the past die sometimes."

"Especially when he tried to kill you."

Harry started in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Malfoy told me."

Harry chuckled. "He didn't actually directly do anything but he was heavily involved nonetheless."

Neal frowned at an expensive Ming vase in the corner of a room. He didn't appear to have heard Harry. He walked over and bent low, peering intently at the vase.

"What is it?" Harry asked, standing beside him.

"This vase. It's out of place."

"How so?"

Neal straightened and swept his arm around the room. "This entire area is medieval themed. Why would a third century Chinese vase be in with tenth century European pieces?"

He lifted the vase. It was attached to a lever. A loud click sounded from across the room. When they turned, a tapestry had moved outward, opening a small space behind it.

"Bingo," Neal said. He headed to the curtain. "So what changed your mind?"

"Hmm?" Harry said.

Neal glanced at Harry. "About Malfoy. What changed?"

"He did."

Neal pushed the curtain aside to reveal a small room with a handful of artwork inside. He stepped inside. "You really think people can change their fundamental beliefs?" he asked, turning to face Harry squarely.

Harry paused in mid-step, taken aback by the tone. "Er," he thought on it. "I think that people can adapt to circumstances and change who they are based on outside interference."

"What do you mean?"

"I think that events shape who you are today. Lucius Malfoy is still the pompous little git he was when I was a kid, but I think that if today he was presented with the same choices he was back then, he wouldn't make the same mistakes."

"He learned, then?"

Harry pondered on this. "Maybe," he admitted, "but I think it's more that his priorities changed. His desires at the end of the... uh... incident... had surpassed any glory he may have obtained from the start. But yes, I do believe people can change."

Something passed over Neal's face and he turned from Harry. "He's a true Gry—uh, I mean courageous person, then?" He shot a sidelong look at Harry to gauge his reaction.

Harry laughed. "No," he admitted. "Cunning and clever, perhaps, but courageous would never be a word to describe Lucius Malfoy."

Inwardly, Harry smiled at deflecting suspicion from Neal's use of Gryffindor. It was a very good thing Lucius Malfoy had been sorted into Slytherin, else Harry might have accidentally revealed something in his astonishment. He assumed that Malfoy had accidentally messed up in the same way Neal had "slipped" just now. Clever man, Harry thought, watching Neal carefully. He nearly got me there.

"Here it is," Neal said, stopping in front of a glass case toward the back. The Horn of Amalthea lay inside, glittering in the light Atherton shone on it. Harry ducked and glanced inside the horn. He spied faint markings etched in the back and smiled.

"That's it," he agreed. "Now how do we get it out?"

"With these," Neal held up his lockpick set again.

"Erm, actually, might I have a go at this?" Harry offered. "I've done some things like this in my line of work and these locks might be a bit dodgy."

Neal relinquished the picks to Harry. "I can open it in sixty seconds," Neal said. "You have that long, else it's my turn."

"I'll have it open in thirty, but I'm not showing you my tricks. Go check out the main room again and then come back. I'll have the case open by then."

Disbelief flashed across Neal's face but he obeyed, turning on his heel and walking away.

Quick as a Snitch, Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at the case. "Alohomora," he whispered. The lock opened and Harry lifted the case. He replaced his wand in his pocket with a satisfied smile.

Neal returned a moment later. He looked at the case in surprise. "Well done, Harry," he praised.

"Thank you. All yours," he said, sweeping his hand to the horn.

Neal stepped back, an unusual expression darkening his eyes. "I better not," he said at last. "It belongs to you after all."

Harry nearly swore in exasperation. Here they were, right in front of the horn, about to fail their mission. Harry couldn't touch the horn and Neal refused to.

"I can tell it's something you want," Harry said. "But everyone's allowed to enjoy a moment of victory. Go on. It'll be the last time you see it."

That spurred Neal into action. He reached forward and gently lifted the horn from its resting place, holding it up to examine it in great detail. "Amazing," he muttered, "absolutely stunning."

Neal's phone buzzed then, and he set the horn back down to look at it. His face paled.

"Atherton's back early," he said. "We need to go."

"What? I thought your friend was going to distract him!"

"He is. Alex sent me the message. Mozzie's posing as a reporter doing a follow-up story about the theft. He's buying us time but we need to move now." Neal picked the horn back up and hurried out of the room.

In the main parlor, Neal pushed the wall shut and headed to the hallway when he paused a moment, thinking on something hard.

"Neal?" Harry prompted when the ex-con wouldn't move.

Neal shook himself out of his thoughts. "Sorry," he apologized, sending a longing look up the stairs. "Okay, let's go. The door's over there."

Harry headed toward it, with Neal following, but before he had taken more than a dozen steps, the handle jiggled a bit. Startled, Harry ducked into the closest room.

"Neal, what are we going to do now?" Silence. "Neal?" Harry turned, expecting to see the consultant standing behind him, but there was only empty space.

Neal Caffrey had vanished with the Horn of Amalthea, leaving Harry to face Atherton all alone.

Author's Note: This is the chapter I warned you about. I'll be internet-less from Sunday to Sunday, so my replies to any reviews along with the next chapter will be delayed until Sunday or Monday. I'm sorry, but this was unavoidable (unlike the last few chapters...) But hey, look! This chapter is on time!