Neal struggled to wake up. His mind was in a haze. He realized the darkness surrounding him before he heard the engine noises and felt the typical movements of a car on a bumpy road.

His head was hurting, big time. Although it was obvious that he was trapped in a trunk, the con man had no idea what was going on. His memories ended in Geoff Baisie's study. The image of a gun flashed through is mind, Baisie's unpleasant grin, a sharp pain on the back of his skull.

When Neal fingered his head, he felt blood forming a scab. Ouch. He understood that his situation was not good. There were confusing sounds of voices talking in the passenger compartment, a few shards of conversation wafting over... 'I'll do the killing...' 'set back from the road' 'security camera?' 'Toughen up'

The feeling of nausea grew stronger by the minute. The pain, the darkness, the buzzing of the car, the smell of his blood. Neal had to focus in order to suppress the urge to gag. He had decided it was better if his captors remained unaware that he regained consciousness.

If only he had brought his lock pick set... Too bad he had decided that disguised as a priest he wouldn't need it. With a lock pick he could have opened the trunk manually regardless of the central locking system. Without the lock picks his attempts to open the trunk were in vain.

Peter, suddenly he thought about Peter and a plan began to form in his mind. Fortunately, the con man found his burner phone in the jacket pocket. Calling the agent was no option because Geoff and George would hear him.

Texting a message should work, though. The ex-CI wondered how to express his urgent need for help without wasting too many words. The car slowed down and probably he was running out of time.

Thinking about the other times he had called Peter for help gave him an idea. He typed the message on his phone and hit the send button. 'Jimmy Burger needs help.' There was no way that the FBI agent would fail to read this as the desperate cry for help it was meant to be. Peter would find him. He always had, even if the former criminal hadn't always been too enthusiastic about that fact.

*** A few miles away in a different car ***

Peter Burke saw the message popping up on the phone. Although the phone number was unknown to him, the message was clean-cut.

Since the phone was connected to the car media system, Moz saw the message, too. 'Who's Jimmy Burger? That's an awful alias. One of your FBI fabrications?'

The agent ignored the rant. 'It's Neal. He's alive. But if we don't hurry, that might change soon!' You know I'm always here for you...

George Basie had an advantage of about 20 Minutes. However, he had to drive carefully because he didn't want to attract any unwanted attention of police patrol cars. He knew the general area where he intended to finish Neal off, yet needed to look out for a good spot, a deserted street, preferably a dead end with broken street lamps. Those spots were not unusual in Harlem yet he needed to act inconspicuous or people might remember his car later on.

Agent Burke on the other hand has switched on the mobile blue lights he had in his car to dash without concern of traffic rules, red lights or speed limits. Since Diana kept him up to date with Geoff's current phone location, he made up leeway. Yet there were still a few miles between him and Geoff's car.

Peter told Mozzie to answer Neal's message. 'On our way, mon frère! BTW, the suit is here as well. If he doesn't kill us with his driving skills, we'll come to your rescue.'

*** Back in the trunk ***

When the car came to halt, Neal prepared to jump and take flight. Unfortunately, he stared directly into a gun barrel directed at his face when the trunk opened. Furthermore, the light of the street lamps shining into his eyes caused a piercing pain which made it very hard to think clearly.

Geoff was less than thrilled to find him conscious. 'Oh, not again. This pest of a priest is trying my patience sorely. You should have hit him harder to knock him out for good. Look, he has regained consciousness. That's so annoying...'

Neal wouldn't have been himself if he hadn't tried to talk himself out of the situation, or at least playing for time until Peter came for his rescue . 'Come on, this must be a misunderstanding. I don't know what went wrong in the first place, but I'm sure we can sort his out. Let's find a place where we can get a decent Single Malt and have a talk.'

However, Geoff downright ignored this offer but addressed his son instead. 'Let's get him out of the car. We need to bring him to that side road over there. It looks appropriately dark and shabby for the intended purpose.'

Geoff was still holding the gun when they manhandled Neal out of the car. Only then, Neal felt the pain ripping through his knee. He couldn't suppress a wail of pain. Looking at his limb he realized the weird angle of his lower leg. Until now, the ache in his head had been too overwhelming for him to notice the piercing feeling in the leg.

George seemed to be worried. 'I told you his knee got twisted when we dragged him down the stairs into the car. He won't be able to walk on that leg.'

Whereas Geoff was less squeamish, just gagged the hurt man with a scarf before rebuffing the younger man. 'He doesn't have to walk far. We got him into the car, we'll get him down that darn road. We just have to make sure that he doesn't make any noise or attract any other attention. Let's get this done! It's getting cold and I don't wanna spend the night here.'

Neal felt completely helpless. He had been in desperate situations before, but with the pain in his head and knee he was barely able to hold up. This was a new experience to him. Usually he'd always managed to gain at least a certain amount of control when being in a destitute situation.

For the very first time the con man thought about the possibility that for once Peter might come too late to save his neck. That idea was quite unpleasant and depressing. However, he dismissed that thought as ridiculous. Peter would always find him, plus he would never be too late.