Chapter Forty-Eight

Tension

Peter sighed, content as he sipped on a tiny cup of espresso in the luxury of his hotel suite, a soft white bathrobe wrapped around him. Night had long since fallen over the city while he waited for Nora to report in after her dinner with the junior execs. His eyes fell on the picture of El, smiling serenely up at him. "You're probably asleep right now," he mused. "Oh, I know it's too late for coffee, but this is Ethiopian Saidamo. It's not decaf. And it's delicious." The cup clinked against its saucer as he sunk back into the sofa, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"I know I'll be tossing all night, which would probably drive you crazy," he continued, "if you were here or I was there." He sat the cup down next to him. "Yup. This could have been my life." A life of luxury, the kind Nora always seemed to be chasing after in her half-cocked, devil-may-care manner. "Any regrets?" He brushed the thoughts away. "No."

"But it's not all that bad," he decided as an afterthought. "Coffee's good, and we should think about silk sheets." He grinned, tugging on the end of his robe. "I never saw myself as a robe guy, but I don't know. When in Rome."

A knock on the door pulled him out of his introspection. He huffed, hauling himself to his feet. "Room service," Nora's sing-song voice called.

"I love you," he muttered to El's picture before headed for the door. "Coming."

Nora laughed as she pushed past him, taking in the image of Peter in his fluffy white robe. "Look at you. What, you staying in character in case I'm one of Kent's minions?"

He glared at her, but her grin said she was not deterred. "Alright, what do you have?"

She offered him a yellow folder. "She took the bait."

He pulled out the papers and started reading. "Hm. Jessica Breslin." Nora made herself at home once again on the couch, and Peter sat opposite of her. "She's been at the company for the last fourteen months."

"When did Novice put in its bid for the defense contract?"

"Eighteen months ago."

The joking was gone from her eyes as she focused on the case. "So, it's possible she's spying for one of their competitors."

It was as good a theory as any. "She could lead us to whoever she's working for."

"Room service," a man's voice called. It was about time.

"Yeah, come on in," Peter called, straightening out the papers and setting them on the table.

"Keeping up appearances?" Nora wondered, that glint of teasing back in her blue eyes.

"A man has to eat," he shot back.

A man in a black suit wheeled in a cart. "Your Kobe steak, sir."

"Ah, thank you." He could feel Nora's eyes boring into the back of his head and ignored her.

"You're welcome, sir." The man retreated for the door.

"Nothing but the best for Peter Lassen, CPA extraordinaire" Nora teased.

He rounded on her, tired of her quips. "I think you're jealous I got the penthouse and you got the paperwork for once." he said sharply.

She rolled her eyes. "It's true," she said dryly. "Up is down, black is white."

"Well, let's focus on Jessica."

Not looking too happy about it, Nora moved on. "She's been sending out a lot more mail since Hayes died. Most of it to a P.O. box in White Plains."

Peter's brow furrowed. "The company doesn't do any business in White Plains."

"Exactly."

"I'll have Jones get a warrant for that P.O. box," he decided. "You get a chance to check out Jessica's office, take it."

"Sure."

Peter turned back to the cart. A small envelope caught his eye. "Huh..." He pulled a small card on thick, expensive card stock out. 'Dinner Tomorrow Evening at Drayton's 8:00 p.m. W.K.'

"What's that?" Nora asked.

"Looks like Kent's inviting me to dinner tomorrow night." He sat the envelope down and lifted the cloche off the tray. "Ooh, look at that." He pointedly avoided glancing at Nora as he taunted her with his fancy dinner. He got the distinct impression she was glaring daggers into the back of his skull. "Wow, this smells delicious. You want some?"

"Hmm. I probably shouldn't." Her tone was indifferent, but Peter knew perfectly well it was an act as she tried not let him under her skin.

"You sure?" he prompted.

"I ate before I came." Her voice was decidedly tight.

"Oh, you had some Kobe as well?" She made a non-commental noise as he started cutting the steak. "What is Kobe beef?" he wondered, knowing her need to prove she knew everything would rear its head. She didn't answer, and when Peter glanced back at her, she was staring darkly in the opposite direction, lips tight.

In the end, Peter couldn't keep being cruel forever, no matter how fun it was to watch her seethe. He cut her off a small portion of the steak and sat down next to her, offering her a fork and knife without a word. She stared for a moment before sighing in resignation, swallowing her pride and taking the utensils. She was back in a better mood by the time they finished, helped no doubt by her in-depth explanation about Kobe beef that Peter really didn't care about. Both full and satisfied with their fancy meal, he sent her home; they both needed to get some sleep if they wanted to make any progress on their case.

Diana sighed impatiently. Sitting in Nora's apartment with the weird little bald guy wasn't how she wanted to spend her lunch hour, and she definitely didn't want to waste it watching him obsessively clean his laptop for ten minutes, but there she was regardless. After ensuring the screen was spotless, he began running a q-tip between the keys on the keyboard with much more attention than she thought was necessary.

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Are you ready yet?"

"I have a process," he snapped. "I didn't even get to write my sonnet yet." He sounded somewhat upset about that fact.

"You have OCD," Diana muttered, slouching back in her chair.

"Uh, some might call it 'highly attentive.'" She rolled her eyes. "Okay. I did a full background check on Fowler." He turned the computer so she could see the screen. "There's been no hits on his credit cards, bank accounts, or passport." She read over the information he'd compiled. "I've showed you mine, you show me yours."

She glared at him. "Don't ever say that again."

His face fell. "Understood."

She pulled a file out of her bag and handed it over. "This is all we have on him."

"This is just Fowler's resignation from the Bureau."

"Yeah, as of five weeks ago. OPR booted him, swept the whole under the rug." Neither of them spoke for a moment.

A knock on the door broke the silence and Nora's landlady walked in. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Oh, no, not at all," Mozzie assured her. "You are but a welcome and striking reprieve from the bureaucratic oppression in my midst."

Diana rolled her eyes, but to her surprised, June laughed. It was genuine, and the corners of her eyes crinkled. "Isn't he charming?"

"He has a way with words," Diana allowed.

"Yes he does. I wanted to speak to you for a moment, please. Peter gave me some forms regarding Nora's housing arrangements and I'm not sure that I understand them." June showed her a thick packet of paperwork.

"Oh, sure," Diana agreed, glad for a moment away from Nora's strange little pal, and stood to help her.

"Of course you can't understand them," Mozzie ranted. "Bureaucracy has vested interest in creating the chaos in which they exist."

Both women ignored him, and June pointed out a passage that she didn't understand. "Oh, yeah. It says that you can set Nora's curfew if you want. You can also establish any procedure you deem appropriate for preventing a criminal relapse."

June's brow furrowed. "Hm. I think Nora is doing just fine." That was one way of putting it. "We'll talk later."

Diana smiled. "Okay." She returned to the table.

"Bye, Mozzie," June called over her shoulder as she headed out.

"Bye, June.

Diana started scooping up her things. "I gotta get back to my office in twenty minutes. I need copies of every statement you have."

"Oh, of course," Mozzie agreed easily. "I'll email them to you." He flashed a tight smile.

She returned the gesture, wondering what schemes he was hiding, but decided she was better off not knowing. With that, she followed out after June and made her way back toward the Bureau.

The next morning, Nora casually kept her eye on Jessica. Or, more specifically, Jessica's office, waiting for any opening to get a peek inside. It wouldn't be the easiest, given the open floor plan of the room. At any given time, there could be a half-dozen people milling about who could possibly catch Nora in the act. Then again, she'd done more with less.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nora saw Jessica stand to leave, slinging her large handbag over her shoulder. Jessica stopped by Andrew's office. "Lunch?" she asked.

"Yup." He stood and joined her, the two disappearing from sight. The crowd in the office had thinned considerably, and Nora decided it was as good a time as any to slip in. She snagged a can of compressed air and an envelope from under her desk and walked in like she had nothing to hide.

She got to work, rifling through the letters in Jessica's outbox on the edge of her desk. One was addressed to the P.O. box in White Plains. With a glance over her shoulder, Nora sprayed the envelope with the compressed air. It was an international travel itinerary reserved for Kent. As she read, her ears caught Andrew's voice just over the din of the office crowd. She hastily returned the letters to the outbox and pressed her back against the open door where she would be out of the line of sight of Andrew's office.

Jessica and Andrew were chatting idly about work, and Nora risked a peek around the corner. Neither were focused toward Jessica's office, and Nora took the opportunity to slide smoothly back to her desk. Not a moment too soon, either, as Jessica stepped out of Andrew's office and headed back toward her own, flashing a friendly smile at Nora as she passed, some quick light lunch in a plastic cup in her hand.

Nora watched Jessica's reflection in her computer monitor. The woman settled into her desk, and froze, eyes on the outbox. Nora's stomach dropped as she realized she'd left it askew. Slowly, Jessica returned it to its original position with a suspicious glance toward Nora before she got back to work. Nora pretended to stay engrossed in her work, silently cursing herself for being so sloppy in her haste.

She waited a while, making perfectly sure that Jessica wasn't watching her, before headed off to lunch herself after a sending a couple texts. As she asked, Peter met her in front of the elevator. "Hey," he greeted idly.

"How are you doing today?"

"Good."

They stood silently for a moment as to not arouse the suspicion of the pair of employees standing behind them having a chat as they waited for an elevator. Nora leaned in, voice low. "Jessica is putting together intel on Wesley Kent," she explained. "She's digging into his travel arrangements."

Peter huffed. "What does she want with the CEO?"

"He has to got be another target."

"Jones got our warrant," he said, keeping his eyes fixed away from her. "He's gonna get a hold of me as soon as he gets to White Plains. We find anything incriminating, I'm bringing her down."

She nodded, peering over her shoulder, keeping an eye out. An elevator door slid open with a ding and she moved to step in. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Oh, business lunch," she lied. Mozzie waited a few blocks away, leaning casually against the trunk of a tree with a pair of sunglasses in place of his normal one. "Hey," she said, coming to a stop in front of him. "Alright, let's make this quick. I need to get back to the office."

They started walking down the street. "First week, and you're already a corporate shill?" he muttered. "My condolences on your recently departed integrity."

She rolled her eyes. "How'd it go with Diana?" she snapped.

"I saw some sheet music in her briefcase."

Not altogether suspicious, she supposed. "Maybe she's learning the violin."

"It was Mozart's Piano Sonata No. 2 in F from 1775," he explained.

Nora stopped in her tracks. "The year the music box was made."

"Need I go on?"

"I'm sure you will."

"I will," he agreed. "There's no historical record of what song it's playing. The only way she would know it's Mozart is if she's heard it."

Nora licked her lips, pushing away the uneasiness bubbling in her stomach. "Peter trust's Diana, and I trust him."

Mozzie shrugged, pulling off the sunglasses. "Could be something, could be nothing." He cleaned the lenses idly on his shirt. "I just thought you should know." He held them up, inspecting the lenses… or rather, the image over his shoulder reflected in them. "Also, you got a tail."

Nora glanced over her shoulder at Jessica, and the woman turned away quickly, heading in the opposite direction. "Yeah, I noticed a couple blocks back. Listen, I'll worry about my shadow. In the meantime, stay close to Diana."

"Oh, why don't I just go have coffee with Hughes while I'm at it?" he huffed.

She gave him a pointed look. "You're a hero, Moz," she said dryly before heading after Jessica. It was about time Nora had a little heart-to-heart with her.