Chapter 7: Con Artists
Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Monday, February 17, 1913.
Sara was reading in bed when she heard a knock on the door. Finally. It was close to eleven o'clock. The fact that her newlywed husband had spent the afternoon and evening with a blood-sucking goddess and her sister had caused her head to be filled with enough Gothic horror tales for one day.
She was already at the door by the time Neal said quietly, "Sara, it's me."
She flung the door open and pulled him inside. "I should inspect you for bite marks."
He grinned. "Please do, but I guarantee you won't find any." After a highly satisfactory embrace, he shrugged off his overcoat and hung it in the closet. "Penelope and Miriam were very well-behaved. Neither one licked her lips over me." His expression grew serious. "But the pleasure of dining at Delmonico's was dimmed by having to share it with them instead of you. There was a moment when I was slicing into my steak that I felt Penelope's eyes on me. I sneaked a glance at her and saw a hunger that dinner wouldn't satisfy." He pulled her close to him. "You don't have to worry. I'll never fall prey to her again."
"I know you won't." She began unbuttoning his shirt. "You need a valet after your labors." She kept her tone light. Neal already knew how concerned she was. "I assume both ladies drank the cocktail you provided."
He slid off his suspenders. "We went through two bottles of wine over the course of the evening—all red. I was pleased with Astrena's selections. The bouquets were so aromatic that Chloe's potion wouldn't have been noticeable. I'm happy to report they should now be on the blood-sucking wagon for two months. Astrena invited me on a tour of the museums tomorrow, but I told her I'd be busy helping a friend."
"An accurate statement," Sara agreed.
"We said goodbye at the restaurant. Astrena is eager to show me her house."
"I bet." She hadn't decided whether to admit to her concern about a fainting couch.
"I, of course, was properly enthusiastic and gratefully accepted her invitation to spend the following day with them."
"By which time we'll be back in New Haven," Sara declared firmly. She helped him shed the remainder of his clothes. Janet had provided silk pajamas, but Sara preferred her guy in the buff and she wasn't wearing anything under her kimono.
The room was chilly. Getting Neal to snuggle in bed with her was the easiest task she'd ever have to perform. They could continue the updates under the blankets.
"How did your evening go?" he asked, stroking her back.
"About as difficult as I feared," she admitted. "We ate at the Empire Room in the hotel. Chloe decided to tell the others about Maia."
Neal propped himself up on one elbow. "I'm glad she went ahead. It was probably better to do it in a public setting."
"I think so. She waited till dessert. Dean already suspected something was wrong. When he asked her about it, she told the truth. As you can imagine, Sam was devastated. His distress was so painful I'm sure it tempered Dean's reaction."
"Sam probably didn't believe it was the same woman."
"Not at first, but once he heard about the two watercolors in Miriam's bedroom that are identical to the ones in Maia's room in the Mystery Mansion, he stopped trying to dissuade us."
"Chloe and Dean need to be open with each other," Neal said. "But it won't be easy. Chloe views Maia as her sister while Dean will be focused on the harm Maia could be causing Sam."
"I'm glad we're returning tomorrow," Sara said. "Worrying about Maia won't accomplish anything. The answer's waiting for us in New Haven."
"I'd love to spend more time here but you're right." His hand caressed the base of her neck, one of her most sensitive spots. "Still, we have tonight."
She turned to face him and began massaging his chest, letting her hands slowly drift lower. "And if all goes well, we'll be free tomorrow afternoon. We're scheduled to leave after dinner tomorrow evening. We have time to sneak inside the mansion and visit Columbia University."
He drew her closer. "Um-hmm. Let's discuss it later."
#
"Pretty swell joint, isn't it?" Henry said to Mickey as they eyed the mansion. The marble was only a few years old. The building shone like a fantasy palace.
Mickey gave a low whistle. "You got that straight. Where's your cousin meeting us?"
"In the woods across the street. Uncle Morris will be out of the mansion. We can talk freely."
Henry scanned the street. Sara and Sam had gone in earlier in the morning, infiltrating the house as extra cleaning staff. Sara knew of a service staircase that had been part of the original floor plan. She hoped to use it to sneak up to the attic so Sam could leave his message.
No one knew what would happen if he didn't write the exact message. Bobby thought the timeline might be so disrupted that a rescue attempt would be impossible—not something anyone wanted to experiment with. In a sense, they were reliving what had already taken place, but they knew next to nothing about what they'd done the first time.
If Sara and Sam encountered any issue, they would linger on a corner across from the mansion to give him a heads up. The fact they weren't there meant the first step had gone smoothly. After leaving the mansion, they were scheduled to pick up Chloe at the hotel and then head for the Bowery.
In the meantime, he and Dean would seize the spotlight. Henry had led Mickey into the section of Riverside Park that was across the street from the Schinasi mansion. He'd assumed that the entrance to the tunnel would be concealed by dense undergrowth, but Dean and Sam were old hands at finding obscure hiding places. After hours of searching, they discovered a manhole cover near the Hudson River. They opened it to verify that there was a metal ladder descending to the tunnel. They hadn't gone very far into the tunnel, not wanting to risk being spotted, but Neal had provided a good description of the old brick walls. The floor was on a gentle downward slope toward the mansion to simplify hauling loaded hand carts to the mansion.
When Henry reached the manhole cover, he pried it off so Mickey could look inside. The entrance was near the Hudson River and sufficiently distant from any paths so that anyone using it would likely go unnoticed. At night, with no outdoor lights, a smuggler could haul contraband from a rowboat quite handily. It was an ideal channel for opium and by the glint in Rat-face's eyes, he was well aware of it. Selling him the rest of the con should be a piece of devil's food cake.
Henry then led him to the mansion. Dean was keeping watch and would go inside ahead of them, acting as if he owned the place. They'd sit down in the salon for a short visit before leaving. Dean had assured Henry he'd bluffed his way through enough situations that tricking the workers in the mansion as well as Rat-face wouldn't be a problem.
Neal and Sara would lead the B-team in the Bowery. Their part of the con should be starting just around now. But as Henry continued to talk about the proposed smuggling operation with Rat-face, he continued to have a niggling worry that an unknown x-factor would sneak in to wreck the con. Neal was confident Astrena wouldn't be an issue, and Sara had reported with a straight face over breakfast that she'd given him a thorough exam and found no bite marks. But that didn't placate his inner canary.
What hadn't he accounted for?
#
"Please come home, Jim!" Chloe pleaded. "Give Mandy a second chance. You know she loves you."
Sam's worry lines popped out on his forehead. "How can I? Now that her past has been exposed, Ma and Pa won't have anything to do with her or me. They'll insist I give her up."
Sara was proud of her team. Their anguish was real and heart-wrenching. The man behind the counter was so immersed in the drama playing out that he didn't notice Neal carefully close the door to the office.
They'd outlined the scene before Neal met Miriam, little suspecting how close to the truth it would be. The objective was to distract anyone in the pawnshop from noticing Neal as he broke into the back door leading to the office and picked the lock on the safe.
Neal's remark about her and Chloe not fitting into the rough atmosphere of the Bowery was what gave her the idea. She and Chloe were pretending to be Sam's sisters. He'd fled from his wife when he discovered she'd cheated on him while they were engaged. Sam was to act the part of the devastated husband who'd gone to the pawnshop to sell his watch. There his "sisters" would catch up with him and try to persuade him to give Mandy another chance. Sara figured that she and Chloe could make such a compelling scene that the guy behind the counter wouldn't pay any attention to Neal.
After they found out about Maia, Sara offered to rewrite their script, but Sam and Chloe both insisted they go ahead. Perhaps they thought it would be a good way to vent their frustrations. Based on the emotional fervor they brought to the lines, Sara was inclined to agree.
"I had to leave," Sam continued. "Don't you understand? Every time I look at Mandy, I see that man's face. This is the best solution for all of us."
"But she loves you," Chloe wailed. "You know that. There has to be a way to get our parents to forgive her."
"He might have drugged her," Sara said, her eyes wide with naive horror. "She probably didn't realize it."
"Believe me, I wish that was the case," Sam said, his voice catching. "But even if Ma and Pa forgive her, I doubt she'll ever forgive herself. Maybe if I can accumulate enough cash, we can sail somewhere far away where no one has heard of us. Start a fresh life."
"Then we'll never see you again! What kind of lousy solution is that?" Chloe burst into tears.
Sara turned to the man behind the counter. "Do you have a handkerchief? Mine's already soaking wet."
"Yeah, take this, though it's none too clean." The man reached into his shirt for a dingy piece of cotton and passed it to her. He leaned on the counter and jabbed his finger at Sam. "Take my advice, kid, and go home. We all mess up, but you got something special—a family who wants you back. Don't throw that away."
Out of the corner of her eye, Sara spotted Neal cautiously open the door to give her a nod—the signal he was leaving. His expression was sad too. She hadn't expected that the con would be so successful, but they must have struck a resonant chord. She took a closer look at the man behind the counter. He appeared to be in his late forties with thinning hair on top. He walked with the help of a cane. From the way he talked, he had no family to go to. Sara found herself wishing that he wasn't involved in Mickey's extortion racket. Perhaps Mickey was extorting him too.
#
When they left the pawnshop, Sam hailed a taxi for Sara and Chloe, making sure they were safely on their way back to the hotel before he returned to the Blue Parrot. Sara told him Neal had slipped out while they were in the pawnshop. Sam had been so immersed in his part, he hadn't noticed. Chloe's pleas for him to stay and forgive "Mandy" were far too real. Their fake scenario blended so well with reality, he found himself slipping into saying Maia more than once. Luckily, Sara had realized he might mess up and had chosen a similar name.
The experience was cathartic. Any thoughts he'd had of leaving home to protect his family from Azazel were roadkill now. Maia needed him more than ever, and, no matter what she'd done in the past, he refused to believe the woman she was now was acting in league with Astrena. So far, Dean was surprisingly restrained. But once they were home with Bobby, that would probably no longer be the case.
Did Crowley know of any extenuating circumstances? Sam and Chloe—and Maia too, if she only knew it—were counting on him for help. It no longer seemed strange to rely on a demon. Or was that the demon blood in Sam talking? He grew nauseous at the thought.
By the time he got to the Blue Parrot, Dean had already arrived and was talking with Liam at the bar. When Sam approached, Dean said, "I was just explaining we're heading back to Kansas."
"I'm gonna miss you boys," Liam said, "but you made the right decision. You still got kin in Kansas. They'll be thrilled to have you back."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, we needed some time to clear our heads, but seeing your family helped us realize what really matters. You and Doris have made us feel so welcome, we're going to miss all of you."
"Attaboy, Cowboy!" Polly squawked.
Dean laughed. "Yeah, and we'll miss Polly too. Before we take off, we want to clean that storeroom like we promised. And I know Sam hopes to clean the parrot's cage one final time."
Liam chuckled. "That's not necessary, but I appreciate it. Don't forget to say goodbye to the missus. She's running errands but should be back in an hour or so."
Sam and Dean headed to the storeroom, leaving Liam to tend bar.
"How'd it go at the mansion?" Sam asked as he tossed Dean a broom.
"Smooth as silk. Emerson didn't linger. Henry had him eating out of his hand. All I had to do was talk up the smuggling end. The duds Henry supplied made me look like I belonged in a palace. You have any trouble at your end?"
"Not much. Sara and I snuck upstairs without an issue. Neal's loft didn't exist. The entire third floor was unfinished. But get this—just as I carved Astrena into the stud, we heard footsteps outside. They belonged to a couple of servants who were fetching extra chairs for the party. Sara and I slipped out when they weren't looking. It makes me wonder if I'd originally intended to carve additional info."
Dean shook his head. "I've given up trying to figure out the whole time-continuum thing. But you did the right thing to leave the same message."
#
Chronos scanned the street filled with cheap saloons and storefronts. "You're sure this is the spot?"
Azazel nodded. "Sam's signal is a claxon blaring loud and clear. He thought he could escape by fleeing into the past. He'll soon find what a foolish mistake he made."
Sam was his favorite. He had the most potential of all the special children he'd adopted. When the link was severed, Azazel at first thought the kid had died. What a disappointment that would have been. He'd have to resign himself to selecting an inferior child just as the Apocalypse was finally drawing near.
Before regrouping, he decided to play a hunch and call on his pal, Chronos. The Greek god of time had been down on his luck. Worshipped by no one, his power had diminished to a small flicker of his former glory. He needed to kill three people just to acquire enough power for time travel.
Azazel found him easily enough in a small town in Ohio where he was living the life of an insurance salesman—what a joke that was—by the name of Ethan Snyder. Azazel made him an offer he couldn't refuse—namely as many victims as he wanted. Plus, after the Apocalypse, Azazel promised to reestablish his temples. Like all the other Greek gods, Chronos craved the adulation of the masses more than anything else.
In return, Chronos offered to find out if Sam was still alive and where he was hiding. Chronos maintained close relations with his nephew Thanatos who ruled Oblivion, the netherworld of vampires and vengeful spirits. Thanatos discovered where Sam was—in 1913 Manhattan of all places—and the rest was child's play.
"Why don't you go ahead and grab him now?" Chronos asked. "You know I can't take him back with us. Why risk losing him again?"
"No can do." Azazel wasn't about to tell Chronos about the Colt. He would only acquire the Colt in 2004. Without it, he couldn't open the floodgates. "Since you're too wimpy to bring back more than one person with you, we'll just have to scare him back."
He paused to study the sign of the dive the kid was hiding in—The Blue Parrot. Sam would soon be the one squawking.
#
"Henry should be meeting with his contact at the Bureau right about now," Dean said. "Man, I wish we could tell Liam that Rat-face won't be coming around anymore."
Sam nodded absently, appearing absorbed in the crap they were finding behind the crates in the storeroom.
Dean figured the space hadn't been cleaned for decades. Most of the rat carcasses were skeletons. "Hey, Sam, we're sweeping away rats along with Rat-face. Remind me to tell Chloe that one."
Sam didn't answer. Dean knew that look. He'd twisted himself into a scrunched-up pretzel over how to tell Maia. Dean wished Sam would let him do it. Hell, Neal or Henry would be even better. They'd be more objective. Should Bobby be warned first? What if Maia transformed herself into a blood-sucking sister in front of their eyes? It could happen.
Dean's job number one was taking care of his brother, and he'd let him down. Last night, Dean couldn't sleep. He'd held Chloe in his arms while thinking about how they'd initially met Maia and her big sister Electra. Just two booksellers. Hell, he'd even encouraged Sam to date Maia. Why hadn't he noticed something wasn't right? Sammy might not have been linked to Electra. He could have been Maia's victim. Maybe they were both slurping out his life force.
Dean choked, and put a fist to his mouth. If he didn't stop, he'd puke out his guts. Then what would he say to Sam?
"Well, if it ain't the Winchester brothers. Howdy, boys."
Dean spun around. Two dudes he'd never seen before. A dark-haired man in his thirties, mild-mannered. Looked like he could work in a bank. But the other guy . . . Dean had never seen him, but those glowing yellow eyes could only belong to Azazel.
The demon contorted his face into a smile that made Dean's blood curdle.
"Sammy, Sammy," the demon said, shaking his head. "You caused me to travel a long way to find you. Don't you remember what I warned you? If you don't go with me, everyone you love will be killed."
Sam swallowed hard. "If you promise not to hurt them, I'll leave with you now."
"Let it not be said that I can't be generous. I was to your daddy, and I'll do right by you." Azazel's face hardened. "Return to your own time, boy, or the killings will start." He gave a brief nod to the dude next to him.
Who was that guy? Whoever he was, with one snap of his fingers, he and Azazel both vanished.
Notes: Chronos is familiar to viewers of Supernatural, but in the TV series he wasn't an ally of Azazel. In the world of Crossed Lines, new alliances are the rule rather than the exception. Another canon character from Supernatural will be dropping in later in the story.
