Chapter 25 "The Last Hours"
"So now, Lord, please take my life from me; for it is better for me to die than to live."
But the Lord asked, "Are you right to be angry?"
Jonah then left the city for a place to the east of it.
Jonah 4:3-5 (NABRE)
"…those twenty hours till the trial. That's all you have," said a heavily distorted voice, very unpleasant to the ear, and hang up. Still pretending to search for something on his computer, Garret surreptitiously ended his recording. Within the next hour, the file was to be corrupted, encrypted, saved, and buried among the files from the Almond case – a small, on-going investigation concerning a private attorney that should be of no concern either to his colleagues at the OPR or to his mysterious extortionist.
Lost in thought, he leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers against the desk. Six years of being blackmailed and yet it was only yesterday that the boss called him directly, without any intermediaries. And today the man called him again.
Garret tried very hard not to think of the man as desperate – keeping an open mind was a necessity in the face of the unknown – and yet, and yet… Standing up, he stretched, then pressed play on the recording he had been listening to before the intrusion.
"Elle doesn't know much about your job, does she?" wondering whether the kid's inadequate presence was just as annoying to his boss as it was to everyone else involved in the case, Garret took back his seat.
"No… She doesn't," Burke said gruffly.
"She has no idea how lucky she is to have you, then!" Garret grunted, intending to pause the recording and highlight a few notes he had written earlier about his subject's attachment style when his phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Tom, and reading it, Garret had to suppress a wince.
"Still, in my opinion, it's good to know a quality forger," the oblivious, childish voice continued. "Especially one you can trust. Don't you-" with gritted teeth Garret hit pause, then, reminding himself not to think too much about it, deliberately gathered the scattered sheets into a pile and, having found the appropriate files, stood up.
Whatever else happened, Garret was sure that at least he would pull through it.
/\_/\
='x'=
"I'm so sorry, I'll be back with the money in a sec," Elle hastily shut the cab door and sprinted off towards the building where the Found Pearl was.
When she got to the front door, she stopped, frantically searching for the right logo on the call box. Over there. She pushed the button.
"Found Pearl adoption agency, how may I help you?" a pleasant woman's voice inquired.
"Elizabeth Burke, I have an appointment here at―"
The door buzzed open and Elle took no time to look around before rushing up the stairs. Only when she reached the third floor she did she notice the elevator. She slowed down and her eyes focused on the familiar logo on one of the doors. Trying to tidy her hair and calm her breathing, she rang the bell. To her relief, Peter opened the door. He was already here!
"Great, hon, quick, I need the money for the cab," she said on one breath, before he could even say a word of greeting. "I could have sworn I had both cash and credit card in my wallet, but when I tried to pay―" she shrugged helplessly. She did not add that her phone along with the car keys were missing too. She hoped she had just left them at the hospital.
"Okay, okay," Peter nodded a bit surprised. He took out his wallet. "Do you want me to go there and pay―"
Taking the money from him, Elle shook her head urgently. "No, no. Mine might not be the only cab there, I'll go!" She was already half-way down the stairs to the second floor when she finished speaking. She had to be quick if she did not want them to be late for the meeting. It was all due to stress, she knew. All that forgetfulness.
/\_/\
='x'=
"Oh, come on! It's just a hundy," Neal says, waving the bill in front of Cindy's eyes.
But the girl just shakes her head.
"No, I'm serious," Neal insists.
"I don't bet money, Neal."
Perhaps she is afraid. Or broke. Neal searches his pockets.
"If you don't want to go big right away, how about a small bet," he proposes, fishing out a few coins. He places them down in front of himself, then nods at Cindy. "You go first. Post a small blind."
The girl opens her mouth as if to protest again. That must not happen.
"―Alright," Neal says. "I'll do it." After finding a dime, he tosses it into the air, then catches it and places it between them. "Here you go. The big blind is just a double dime. You must have that much," he chuckles.
Cindy rubs her forehead, smiling. "Kiddo. I said―"
"I will lend you money."
"Neal―"
"Here you go, see?" Neal pushes a coin forward and deals the fourth card face down. "Now my round. Since we are the only players, neither of us can fold at the beginning." He spins a dime so that it would travel to its comrades, then looks at the girl in expectation. "Now you. You can always check, you know. Bet nothing."
Cindy shakes her head. "But I'm not playing, Neal. You are. With your mon―"
Neal rolls his eyes. "Fine. Here you go." He divides his coins in half and pushes them towards Cindy. "Now that's your cash."
She chuckles and Neal grins back.
"See?! We haven't even started playing and I'm already half broke. You really are good."
But Cindy just pushes the coins back towards him. "I won't take your money, Neal. And neither will I play a game where we have to bet money."
"Come on!" Neal exclaims, but before he can say anything else, Cindy nods at the pack of candy she has brought.
"Those are the only bets that I can make," she states.
Saying nothing, Neal wrinkles his nose in disgust. Cindy cannot be serious. The last time he played poker like that must have been when he was seven or so. Then a sudden idea pops up in his head and he smiles widely.
"Alright," he says, taking the package. "Here's what we'll do. We'll exchange dibs for this, just like casinos exchange coins for cash."
"No, Neal. I won't bet either mine or your cash. I just don't play such gam-"
Neal throws the bag back on the floor. "Why?!" he exclaims.
"Well―"
Neal picks up the bag again. "Look, it will be simple. First-"
"Neal! Stop!" Cindy chuckles. "Let me answer your question first!"
Neal shuts his mouth. He cocks his head. What question? There was no question.
"Thanks," Cindy breathes. "So, the reason I don't want to bet money is because I think such games are… Beneficial."
Neal scrunches up his nose. What? "I mean when you're a loser, they're not," he snorts.
"Exactly!" Cindy nods enthusiastically. "So you see, in games like this there are always people who will lose and people who will win. It is quite alright when we just talk about a game," she says passionately. "But the moment we start betting real money, the loss happens in real life as well. People, children like you, lose their homes because of parents who got addicted to gambling."
In silence, Neal gazes at the girl. Lose their homes? He looks away from her. Everyone he knows gambles. His mom loved poker. So did Mister Brooks. And Mister Keller. Cindy is a freak.
Stifling a yawn, Neal rests his chin in his hand. This will be no fun… He gazes at the two board games Cindy has brought. Does it mean that in these games you do not make any bets either? How boring.
Cindy chuckles. "Thank you, Neal."
Surprised, Neal sits upright. Oops. Has he said it aloud? But as he gazes back at Cindy, she does not seem to be mad. She is still smiling and after a moment Neal cannot help but grin back.
With a sigh, he gathers the few coins Elle had in her wallet and shoves them back in his pocket. "Fine," he says, shaking his head. "You won. Be it your way. No real bets."
"Thank you," Cindy says brightly, and Neal feels his shoulders relax. He scoops the cards off the floor and starts shuffling them. The game is on, and even though Cindy is not saying it out loud now, Neal knows she is captivated. Smiling, he ends up with the card spring, then hands them new cards with a bow. Queen of hearts for his audience.
/\_/\
='x'=
"Andrew Collins?" As the stranger's voice spoke, technician Andrew Collins looked up. He had previously assumed that whoever opened the door must have been one of his colleagues, but now, not recognizing the man standing in the doorway, he frowned.
"Can I help you?" he asked, getting up.
"Agent Garret Fowler, OPR," the stranger said, crossing to his desk. "I understand you're the one who simulated the break-in to Neumann's mansion?"
Andrew nodded and watched the man cross the room to the gutted 1943 McKenzie. The man whistled, then turned to gaze at him. "Is that the safe he cracked?"
"It is the safe that was cracked, yes," Andrew answered cautiously. Now that he thought about it, he had heard some rumours that the OPR got involved. But what might they want to do with him?
"I've read your report on that," the man continued. "The skill level we're talking about here raises a lot of questions." Agent Fowler cocked an eyebrow at him. "Or not?"
"I don't know sir," Andrew answered truthfully. As usual, Agent Burke did not give him much to work with, counting on getting the most objective perspective from him. Until now, he did not even know that the criminal who broke into that safe was a man. "I've seen the crime-scene, sir, but other than that, I've been kept out of the loop," he explained.
Agent Fowler gave him a pleasant smile. "I understand," he said. "So you wouldn't know we know the identity of the criminal who cracked the safe? And that we actually have him in custody?"
"Oh," Andrew muttered, feeling confused. Why tell him this?
Ignoring him for the time being, the OPR agent opened his briefcase and then fished out two cases. He gave the first one to Collins. "Here are our recordings put in writing. This is our subject," the OPR agent tapped the yellow highlighted portion of the dialog.
"I need you to compile this information and what you've learned while examining the cracked safe and the broken security system in Neumann's mansion. But this time your focus is less on what was done and more on the subject who did it. I want a complete assessment of his technical skills. Use this," the man handed him the second file, "as a template for your assessment. One of my agents will come here at the end of your shift to collect the report. I hope everything is clear."
When he finished skimming through the text of the first document, Andrew frowned. He had written assessments like that in the past, but every time he was given a longer deadline and at least one criminal-profiler to work with. Moreover, some of the data had clearly been omitted. Could he not get access to all recordings? Or, if that was not possible, to the file of the criminal? He looked up to voice the question aloud, and that was when he realized he was alone again.
The OPR agent must have left while Andrew was still reading. And that meant, Andrew knew, that the answer to both of his questions would be 'no'. After giving the gutted safe a frustrated look, Andrew crossed the room back to his desk and sat down. For a moment he stared intently at the blank template the man had given him.
Then, he began to write.
/\_/\
='x'=
"Are you sure about it?" Neal asks as Cindy pushes three green candies forward.
"Yeah," she nods.
"Because you have lost the last four rounds," he reminds her with a smile.
Cindy rolls her eyes. "I know."
They look at each other for a long moment and finally Neal shrugs. "Don't worry," he assures her. "This time, I'll let you win."
Cindy chuckles, clearly not believing him. "Right," she says.
Neal grins. "All in."
He is rewarded with the look of surprise on his opponent's face. "All in?" Cindy echoes in disbelief.
"Yep." He nods.
"Are you serious?"
"Aha," Neal says, still smiling.
"But you just said―"
"And I meant it," he says wholeheartedly.
Looking perplexed, Cindy shakes her head. "No, Neal, you didn't mean that," she says slowly.
Neal snorts. "Yeah I did," he says before scooping one candy and putting it in his mouth. "I mean, except for this one." He really would rather use a cig. Unfortunately, when he checked the girl's bag earlier, he could not find any. Perhaps just like Elle, she does not smoke.
Cindy regards him for a moment, then shrugs. "Alright," she says finally, and pushes the rest of her sweets forward. "Let's see if you're being truthful."
Since when is poker about being truthful? With a smile, Neal uncovers the last card. It is Five of Diamond. Helps him a lot, Cindy not that much.
He looks at the girl and notices she is biting her lip. "…You know Cindy, technically, if I don't want to win, I don't have to show you my cards… Do you want me to muck my hand?"
Cindy rolls her eyes. "No, Neal. Just play."
Not flipping the cards over, he pushes his hand away.
"No, come on! You can't fold now!" Cindy exclaims.
Neal grins. "My cards. I can do whatever I want with them."
"Neal!"
He laughs. "But I have a promise to keep! You have two pair, right?"
Cindy blinks, clearly confused. "How do you―" she pauses. "Until you tell me what cards you had, I'm not telling you."
Neal shakes his head. "But you don't have to tell me. I know."
"No, you don't," Cindy smiles back. "You're guessing. Just like before. I'm not gonna fall again for "
Suddenly, as the movement behind her registers, Neal stiffens. But then he relaxes. It is just a nurse. She wants to do her job and check on him, but the FBI monkeys, as always, have a problem with that. The next moment they stop bitching and open the door for her.
Really. Some people.
"Morning. Just a regular check-up," she says, briskly entering the room, and Neal is surprised to realize that despite remembering her introduce herself the previous day, somehow he has already forgotten her name.
"Morning Amy," Cindy says, and both the nurse and Neal give her a puzzled look.
"Cindy!" the nurse exclaims happily. "Sweetie, what are you doing here? When did you come back?"
"This weekend," Cindy answers, standing up. "And what am I doing?" she shrugs casually. "Just playing poker with one cool dude." She smiles at Neal. "I'll go get a coffee. Anything for you, Neal?"
Still bewildered by his forgetfulness and Cindy's obvious familiarity with the woman, he shakes his head.
"You sure?"
"Yeah," Neal pauses. "Actually – no," he backtracks. "Coffee― that would be great." The last time he asked Elle for coffee, she brought him decaf. He really, really hopes that will not be the case with Cindy.
"You got it," the girl smiles again and Neal watches her leave the room. He turns his attention back to the nurse. It turns out Amy has already turned on the blood pressure monitor.
With a sigh, Neal gets up from the floor and slumps down into the chair. He watches the woman wrap the cuff around his arm, then, feeling silly, he turns his gaze to the monitor. He does not think anyone would have ever dared to pamper his mentor in this way. It is so humiliating…
"So, how are you feeling today?" Amy asks as the machine beeps announcing the end of the measurement.
Neal forces a smile. "Great," he says, while the nurse writes down the numbers on his chart.
Suppressing a grimace, he waits till she finishes taking the temperature in his ear. There is no way in the world Mister Keller would ever have had to put up with it, he reflects again. No way. He would have shot the person who tried it. The examination is finally over and he watches Amy turn back to filling out the chart.
"96.4° Fahrenheit," she says, writing down the number.
"No headache, no nausea, no stomach ache, no skin rash, bruises are healing fine," he says before she can start asking him the stupid questions on her own. "I'm fine."
Amy glances up at him and smiles. "Glad to hear it."
He watches her check off the boxes in his chart.
"Alright," she says when she's done. She nods at the candy. "Don't eat too much of these. Remember what doctor June likes to say? Sugar's a silent killer."
"Really?!" Neal exclaims, hoping to sound astonished. "You must tell this to those two benchwarmers outside then!" he nods at the two monkeys. "They look like they could use a challenge," he snorts, then gets up. "Come on. Let's tell them. When was Mister Sugar last seen?"
The nurse looks at him for a moment, embarrassed, then good-naturedly shakes her head and leaves the room.
"Wait, ma'm! It's withholding evidence! They can put you in jail for that " as soon as the door closes, Neal drops back to the floor. He sighs irritably, then he buries his head in his hands. All this horrid humiliation. Mister Keller would be very disappointed to see him like this.
Satch whines at his side, and Neal, reminded of the dog's presence, lowers his hands. "Well?" he asks. "What have you gotten us into, huh? You trashy, trashy dog…" he tosses Satch's floppy ears from side to side.
Satch sneezes, shaking his head, but before he can explain himself further, a sudden, quiet beep interrupts him. Neal flinches in surprise, and Satch turns away from him with an excited puff. As the short beeps continue, Neal gets to his knees. It is as if the sound comes from the candy pack… And then he realizes it.
The sound is from one of the board games Cindy has brought. As Neal picks up the game, Satch's behaviour immediately confirms his suspicion. The dog, with his ears pricked, observes the box intently. When Neal opens it, the sound gets louder.
He takes the file out of the box along with the thick colourful cardboard. He picks up the screw storage box where it seems that some game pieces are stored, but the sound is not coming from it. He pulls out the cards and pauses when he notices that the thin piece of cardboard has been folded so that it occupies the space of at least half the box. He picks it up and pauses.
He stares at the small square black device. The red led in it keeps blinking simultaneously with the beep and, except for one small button, Neal sees no other modules.
"…This is one weird game that Cindy has brought," he says aloud.
When Satchmo makes another louder puff, Neal decides to go ahead with his trashy friend's advice and press the button.
"You turned informant, huh?" Neal's eyes widen at the familiar voice coming from the device's speaker. "1AM sharp, Georgie," his mentor continues. "Trust, but verify."
Next(at the earliest 29.05, at the latest 26.06): The Plan
Author's notes:
Hi! I'm glad to be here again! :) I'm sorry about the delay. Six months ago I thought I would be able to publish the next chapter in February, but plan A got discarded as I had to focus my efforts elsewhere.
I hope to post the next chapter in one-two months (29.05-26.06).
The illustration for this chapter you can either find on my DoodleAddicts account (…/vincentthecat) or on the story Rooftops of New York that I post on Archive Of Our Own (VincentTheCat).
❤ Replies to guest reviews from the previous chapter ❤
Ms Mar, thanks! At the time I really thought I would publish sooner but you know… Worries, troubles, opportunities and here we are in April.
/\_/\
='x'=
MarJan53, I wouldn't either! ;)