Chapter Forty-Six

Teamwork

After not even five minutes of having Mozzie and Diana in the same place, and Nora already felt like an overworked babysitter. The two stared at her with disdain, and at each other with contempt. Neither of them wanted to be there, and neither of them relished the idea of working together. "We all want the same thing, alright?" Nora said diplomatically, holding up her hands in a gesture of peace. "Now, if we can come together… together being the key word, we can move forward."

Both of them pouted, arms crossed in front of their chests. "Look," Mozzie huffed, "if I'm gonna spend my time working with Lady Suit, it better be worth it."

Nora opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by Diana. "And if I'm gonna spend my precious time supervising your pocket-sized pal, he better watch what he says."

Nora rolled her eyes, lips pursed tightly together as she resigned to just letting them duke it out themselves for a moment. "Why are you even here?" Mozzie huffed.

"Because my boss asked me. You?"

"Uh, because Nora asked me."

Diana raised an eyebrow. "So Nora's your boss?"

"Hey, I answer to no one, Nancy Drew," Mozzie snapped. A dumpster fire indeed, Nora thought bitterly, squeezing her eyes closed against the headache should could feel growing behind her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose as Mozzie rounded on her. "I already have one fed in my life."

She waved him down, trying to think of anything that would reassure him. Once again, Diana didn't give her the chance, rounding on Nora herself. "And I've got plenty of crooks."

"Hey," Nora snapped, fed up of their childish squabbling. "Hey. We need to find Fowler. We know Kyle tried to contact him after Peter showed up at the hanger that day." The reminder of their purpose for being there softened their faces. For once, she welcomed the pitying stares that accompanied any mention of Kyle, if only for the fact it got them back on task. "He's the only one who can tell us what really happened. Please."

"Fine," Mozzie conceded, not looking too happy about it. "But I have rules."

"You have rules?" Diana echoed skeptically. Nora sighed under her breath. Her tactic of playing on their sympathy for her was more short-lived than she'd hoped.

"You will meet me with all the pertinent files at a time and place of my choosing," Mozzie explained. "I will contact you via express courier. You will receive a package. In that package will be a sonnet giving clues to our rendezvous point." Nora stared at him dryly. He was being ridiculous.

"You wanna send me a sonnet?" Diana huffed.

"Yeah."

"I don't do scavenger hunts or poems," she said flatly as Nora's phone started ringing.

Grateful for the distraction, Nora checked the caller ID. "Ah, this is Jones."

"Go," Diana sighed. "I can handle this."

"I don't get handled," Mozzie protested.

"Guys," Nora snapped. "Please. Adults." She fled in the opposite direction. At that point, she didn't care if they tore each other apart, as long as she didn't have to be there to watch. She answered the phone. "You have great timing, Jones," she sighed. "Thank you."

He chuckled, though it was a little tense. "How soon can you get back to the office?"

"Ten minutes?"

"Great. I'll be waiting for you." He hung up, and she wondered what could possibly be wrong now.

She hustled back. Jones was waiting in the conference room, shoulders tight. He checked his watch impatiently as she reached the top of the stairs. "Hey," she greeted. "We good?"

"Yeah, we're good," he assured her. He gestured toward the laptop open in front of him. "Warrant came through for the Novice hard drive. So, we'll be looking for anything relevant to Hayes." On the screen, a window displayed a loading animation, the message 'WAITING FOR CONNECTION' across the top. That explained Jones' impatience. "Come on, Peter. Where are you?"

Peter ran through a list of everything he though the Bureau – and an auditor – would need to take a peek at with Ellen as they walked back toward his office. "And an index of your earnings report," he concluded, flipping idly through a file she'd already given him.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"I'm fine."

"Coffee?" she prompted.

"Sure, coffee."

"Espresso, cappuccino, macchiato..?"

Peter froze, reminded very much of Nora and her obsession with 'good' coffee. "Regular coffee's fine," he insisted.

Ellen was still not satisfied. "You you have a preferred blend?"

"Just plain old coffee."

Ellen smiled politely, like someone trying to explain a difficult concept to a small child. "We have a Brazil Burbon Santos, a Panamanian Boquette, and an Ethiopian Sidamo." Peter didn't answer, not even sure they were still talking about coffee. Ellen leaned in close, leaning on his desk. "I prefer the Mediterranean espresso. The beans are imported from the Cafe Vivace in Rome."

That, Peter understood. "Italian roast?" It was his secret weakness, ever since Nora had inadvertantly introduced him to it. God, that feels like forever ago… He cleared his throat, realizing he'd gotten distracted. "Yeah. Let's go with that one." With a smile, Ellen stood and left him to his work.

He sat down at his desk, watching her go. Once he was sure she was out of eyesight, and no one else happened to be looking in, he pulled off one of his cufflinks that Nora had helped him into earlier that morning. It was yet another FBI toy, a secret USB flash drive that would give Jones back at the Bureau access to everything Peter had on the computer in front of him.

Peter watched as the computer's cursor moved of its own accord, remotely controlled by Jones. "And we're in," he mused. Barely five minutes had passed before Ellen returned. Peter stood to meet her around the desk. "That was fast."

"A cataloged index of our earnings reports," she offered, handing him a flash drive.

"Excellent."

"And here's your espresso."

She handed him a tiny white mug on a saucer. "Thank you." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the screen change, returning back to the standard background. Jones had gotten through.

"I assume you have everything you need?" Ellen asked.

"I do now." With a nod, she turned and headed out once more, and Peter sank down into his chair. He took a sip from the tiny espresso; it was better than he'd hoped it would be. "Yeah," he mused, content, "that's good."

Peter finished the day, keeping busy with his accounting act. No one raised any questions, and he made his way back to his hotel that evening after picking up his phone and laptop in the lobby. He wasted no time when he got back, setting up his laptop and starting a Skype call with El.

She answered quickly, and he adjusted the angle of the screen. "Can you see me?" he asked.

"I can."

He smirked. It was great seeing her smiling face beaming up at him, even if it be over a screen. "Look at us being a modern couple," he mused.

"I know," she laughed. "Okay, so how's the room?"

"Oh, not a room, honey. It's a suite." He picked up the computer and spun it around, giving her a virtual tour. "See for yourself."

"Looks pretty fantastic," she agreed.

"Oh, wait a minute. Look at this view." He took the camera over to the window, capturing the breathtaking scene of Central Park, and the city sprawled out around it. "There's a button that opens the curtains automatically. And..." He spun around toward the piano. "I've got a baby grand."

"Well, it looks like you have everything you need," she sighed, trying to hide the twinge of sadness in her tone.

He flipped her back around to face him. "Well, not everything…. Let me show you the best part of the room." He returned to the table, sitting the computer down and sinking into the comfy chair. With a smile, he showed her his favorite thing; a photo of her that he'd brought with him, proudly displayed on the table. "You."

"Aw. Thanks for bringing me along." There was a sharp knock on the door. "Alright, now get back to work," she sighed.

"I miss you."

"Miss you back." With a final look at her lovely smile, Peter closed the computer, cutting off the call.

Peter stood, drawing himself up and slipping back into character as he headed for the door. Unsurprisingly, Nora stood on the other side. "Anybody see you?"

"No," she assured him idly, eyes already fawning over the room like a kid in a candy store. "I doubled back through the service entrance. You sweep the place?"

"Yeah, the minute I walked in. It's clean."

She welcomed herself in, her heels clicking loudly over the expensive flooring, and let out a low whistle. "Nice digs, Peter. Maybe you picked the wrong universe to live in."

"Nope," he decided. She froze in her tracks by the minibar and started to help herself. "No, no. Stay out of there." He closed the door pointedly. "Six bucks for a candy bar."

She blinked her big, blue eyes innocently. "Yeah, it's on the tab." She started digging through the selection of chips. "Embrace your hypothetical self."

"I don't do hypothetical." He snatched a candy bar out of her hand and placed it back in the basket.

"Oh, we speculate all the time," she dismissed.

"On our cases," he huffed. "Not on my life choices." He gave her a pointed look. "No touching." She rolled her eyes, but didn't move to grab anything else. Satisfied, Peter turned away. "Come on, what do you have?"

She pulled some papers out of her purse. "Didn't get anything on Kent, but Jones something pretty interesting on Hayes' computer." He took the paper from her and they each took a seat.

"Failed password attempts," Peter mused, reading over what they'd found.

She nodded. "The day Hayes died, someone tried to access his office desktop. They tried variations on his birthday, a bunch of song titles, and the name of the dog he had as a kid."

"Somebody had a close relationship with him," he realized.

"Looks like Novice has a mole."

Peter paused to consider their information. "Okay. Kent and his upper management can access any email account that they want. They wouldn't have to go fishing for a password."

"We can rule them out."

"Well, we need to dig into the junior execs." He huffed. "Since I'm the auditor, I can't be hanging around the water cooler." He fixed her with a pointed look. "But maybe you could."

A smile split her lips, eyes sparkling excitedly as she leaned forward. "You're sending me in? How?"

"Kent's kissing my butt," Peter explained. "He wants a clean audit so badly, that maybe he'd hire a friend of mine who's looking for work in marketing." Her eyes went far away as she worried her lower lip, likely already thinking up a good cover story. "If I pull the strings, think you can land the job?"

"Marketing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She considered it for a moment, leaning back in her seat. "I can do marketing."

Nora landed the job. Obviously. And, thanks to Peter's string pulling, she started immediately. A couple of her new coworkers – a man named Andrew and a woman named Jessica – stopped to introduce themselves, curious about the newcomer. She lavished in the attention, pulling out a confidant persona. The inevitable question of what she'd done previously came up, and Nora was ready for it. It had to be something that sounded somewhat impressive, but not enough that anybody would bother fact-checking. "I had Westen Farms conduct a poll on what people found aesthetically pleasing in their cereal bowls. You know what people like to see?"

"What?" Andrew asked blankly.

"Raisins."

Both of the snickered, clearly not expecting that answer. "Raisins?" he scoffed.

"Well, a finite amount of raisins. Market research gave us the key formula. Six-to-one flake-to-raisin ratio. I made sure every box we packaged met that standard. Sales went through the roof."

"That's how you got this job?" another man scoffed, standing up from his desk. "Breakfast cereal?"

"Well, ready-to-eat cereal market, ten-point-seven billion last year," she said with a shrug.

"Right," the man laughed. "With the little plastic prizes in the box."

"Yeah," she mused, rounding on him with a tight smile. "That's billion. With a B. But tech's where it's at. That's why I want to talk to you guys. You know, get some pointers. Want to grab some drinks later?"

"Oh, well we already booked a dinner at Drayton's, so..." Andrew explained, looking at the others.

"Oh, you should come!" Jessica offered.

"Jessica," the other man warned.

Jessica gave him a pointed look. "Screw you, Trent. Andrew?"

"Fine by me," he agreed with a shrug.

"See?"

"Fine," Trent allowed before Nora could answer, staring at her with a tight smile. "We can play the game." The others shifted. "She can play the game, right?"

Nora raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What's the game?"

"It's a little tradition we have around here," he explained. "Called credit card roulette. Go out, run up a nice tab. Throw all our company cards on the table, and let the server pick one."

"And that card foots the bill," she concluded. Easy enough to rig…

"It blows your dinner budget for the month," Andrew added.

"You up for it?" Trent challenged.

She grinned up at him. "Lock and load, Trent."

A woman Nora had seen only briefly before approached them; Ellen, Kent's personal secretary. "Miss Danbury," she called. "Grace. The auditor would like to see you. He spoke to Accounting and has some questions about your 2009 W2s."

"Uh-oh," Nora said lightly, standing. By this point, quite a crowd had gathered around the see the new kid in class. "Excuse me. See you guys later." She followed after Ellen.

"I don't like her," she heard Trent grumble behind her. Feeling's mutual, bub.