Chapter Eleven

One Week

After arriving at the Bureau, Peter told Nora to get to work on some paperwork at her desk. He was still angry, clearly, and she decided it would be best to let it blow over. She knew why he was mad, obviously, but even if she was inclined to change her ways, he couldn't possibly have expected it to happen over night. She got the feeling that, if they caught Hagen and her deal became permanent, Nora being herself would account for the majority of the things that Peter got mad about.

So, he left her to her boring paperwork for a couple hours while he worked in his office. Agents milled about, chatting, working, getting coffee. She was able to go get coffee as she pleased, though it was basically coffee-scented tar. Sometimes an agent would stop to introduce themselves or chat. They were helpful when she had a question about the paperwork she had been given, taking the time to explain it and help if she had made any mistakes.

They all knew who she was. It was no secret, and she owned it. They would ask about her crimes, and she would dodge the questions. Some asked about her time in prison, or her escape. She kept it light.

The office was very different from prison. In prison, every aspect of your day was planned out, out of your control for the most part. Every day was basically the same, unless someone decided they wanted to fight for some reason or another. Nora rarely had that problem. In the office, though, she could get up and move freely. The work was boring, but it was at least something to do. At the end of the day, she knew she would return to her lovely apartment at June's, not a cramped cell.

As she was musing about all of this, an agent came over to tell her Peter wanted to talk. She glanced up at his office. He was watching her, though he didn't look angry anymore. "Thanks," she said with a smile, and headed up the stairs.

"Close the door," he said as she entered. She did. "I need your help with this." He laid out a file as Nora took a seat across from him. She picked up the file.

"Is this information on Hagen?" she asked.

"No," he admitted. "Diana is on her way with that." She took a look at the papers.

She looked at Peter in disbelief when she realized what she was looking at. "This is your wife's visa bill."

"Yeah," Peter said, pleased with himself. "I've got it all; eBay bids, video rentals, library books. Thank you, Patriot Act."

She blinked. "So… You're stalking your own wife."

"You want to compare notes?" he asked pointedly. Of course, Peter knew how long she had spent trying to track down Kyle before he had caught her the first time.

"Touche." She looked over the files some more. "You figure out what she likes?"

"Yeah. It's all in the summary. Pottery making, Nancy Drew mysteries, scented candles – Oleander. Old jazz. Anything Italian except anchovies."

Nora cut him off. "Yeah, I don't think you're going to find your answer in a list of her eBay bids. These are all things she likes, not who she is. As a person."

"Then help me out here." He sounded desperate. "You're the romantic. I mean, what's the deal with the bottle?"

Nora shrugged, trying not to think to much about it. "It's an '82 Bordeaux."

"Yeah, costs eight hundred bucks a pop."

"It does when it's full," she corrected. "I got it empty."

"Empty?"

Nora didn't answer. Peter had made it very clear that dwelling on Kyle was going to get her in trouble. Yet, here he was, probing for an explanation. She sighed. "Look, when Kyle and I met, we had nothing. We lived payday to payday. Job to job. I got that bottle, and I would fill it up with whatever cheap boxed wine I could afford. We would sit in that crappy apartment and drink it over stale pizza and pretend we were living in the Cote d'Azur."

"How did that work for you?" Peter asked. It wasn't an unfriendly question, but it stung regardless.

"It didn't," she admitted, dropping her eyes to her lap for a moment, thoughtful. "That bottle was a promise of a better life. Instead, all Kyle got was a girl locked away for half a decade." She was silent for a moment. Peter's eyes were thoughtful, like something in her story had touched him. "Have you made Elizabeth any promises lately, Peter? Or do you think all she wants is Oleander candles?"

Peter didn't get a chance to answer before there was a soft knock on the door. "Hey, Diana," he said as she opened the door. "What've you got?"

She rushed in and came around Peter's desk, laying papers out in front of him. "Hagen is leaving the country," she announced. "He booked a flight through a private charter company in Barcelona for the 19th."

Peter rubbed his temple. "One week. Damn it, Nora." He shook his head. "Seeing you must have tipped him off."

"He's going to Spain," she argued. "That's something."

Peter ignored her. "Is there any connection to our books, the bonds, or the murder?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Hagen's impressive as hell," she said. "A lot of international holdings, but he keeps himself out of the muck."

"Get every available agent on this," Peter demanded. "You know the good ones; steal them if you have to. I want to know every single thing about this guy and I don't want any excuse. Anything gets in your way-"

"-forge your signature," Diana finished. She smiled wryly. "Always do."

"That's what I want to hear," he told her. She bustled out again, on her way to carry out Peter's orders. Once she was gone, Peter stood. He seemed to have aged ten years during that one conversation. He turned back to Nora. "If you're right about Hagen, we have one week to connect him to the bond." He held her gaze. His eyes were unreadable. "If we lose him on the 19th… Nora, if we lose him, you're back in. I can't save you."

Nora felt like everything was crashing down around her. She had a week to solve this case. Otherwise there was no more coffee, no more June, no more Peter or uncomfortable anklet. Game over.

She walked into June's that night, heavy. The rest of the day at work, all she could think about was everything she stood to lose if Hagen got away. She tried to focus on the paperwork, but the thoughts just kept creeping back in.

"You're late." She had barely stepped foot into her apartment.

"Give me a break, Moz," she said, flipping the light on. "I'm a working woman now."

"So?" he asked, sipping the wine he had helped himself to. She sat down across from him, helping her self to a glass as well.

"We were right about Hagen," she said, opting to start with the good news.

"Of course we were right," Mozzie said. He hadn't had any doubt.

She moved on to the bad news. "And I was stupid, and impulsive-"

"As you do," he added, cutting her off. Nora glared at him.

"-and he saw me." She swallowed hard and took a breath to steady her voice; it threatened to crack. "I have one week to link him to the bonds."

Mozzie froze. "One week or what?" He had to have known the answer already.

"Or it's over. I go back." This time, her voice did crack.

"No no no," he muttered, shaking his head slowly. It was almost childish.

"Yeah." Silence hung in the air. I can't do four more years, Moz, she wanted to say, but she knew if she did, she would start to break apart. She changed the subject. "Did you find anything about Kyle?"

"Ah!" he said, and reached for something on the table. Hopefully he had better news than she had. "Apparently, if a tree falls in the forest, it does make a sound." He slid a paper across the table to her, looking pleased with himself.

It was a photograph. She studied it. Kyle's face looked back at her. It wasn't a happy face. A man's hand with a ring was clamped tightly on his shoulder, and Kyle's eyes were cast off to the side, looking at the person holding him.

Nora sighed deeply, eyes fixed on the picture. "I'm gonna lose him again, Moz."

"Lose him?" he asked, confused. "I just found him."

She flipped the photo around. "So did he," she said, jabbing the hand on his shoulder. "So did he."