Chapter 7: Freefall
Bianka inserted the key into the lock of her apartment door. "We'll talk about it inside, I promise." She hesitated then placed her hands on either side of Neal's face, pulling him down for a kiss.
Was she picturing Jacek while he imagined those were Sara's lips? Neal kissed her hungrily, plunging his hands into her hair. Surely only a few more hours to endure this. Today, tomorrow, how long did he have to wait for Klaus to make his move?
Bianka pulled back first, her face flushed. Her eyes welled up with tears. Was she convinced that he was so deeply in love that she felt sorry for him? That was his hope.
"We should go inside," she urged softly, reaching for the doorknob.
He placed his hand on top of hers, stopping her from turning the knob. "I refuse to delay any longer. If Sandor won't help, I'll go in alone. You've already had to endure the threat for far too long."
She kissed him again. "I love you. That's all that matters." Gently she removed his hand and opened the door.
The interior was dark. A little light was coming through the partially closed window blinds but not enough to see anything more than the shadows of her furniture.
Bianka flicked the hall switch but the light didn't come on. "I was afraid of that," she groaned. "It was flickering yesterday."
"No problem. I can take care of it. Do you have a flashlight?" Neal tensed his muscles. It was coming.
"There's one in the drawer next to the refrigerator."
The back of his neck tingled as he turned toward the kitchenette. Traffic sounds drowned out any sound but he was sure someone else was there. A faint whiff of—
With a rush of air, someone charged him and seized his arms from behind. "Run!" Neal yelled and kicked out wildly. Someone else covered his head with a cloth hood.
He felt a prick to his arm as he struggled to free himself. Strong hands seized his neck, choking him. He coughed. A fist slammed into his solar plexus, knocking the breath out of him. He was clinging to consciousness by a thread. He'd expected Klaus to be nicer.
#
It took Peter only a second to realize what had awakened him. He'd set his cell phone on vibrate mode, and its angry buzz on the glass top of the nightstand demanded attention. The alarm clock displayed twelve-fifteen.
"What happened?" he whispered, holding the phone to his ear as he got out of bed. El hadn't stirred and he slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Jones wouldn't be calling except in an emergency. His stomach had already twisted into a clenched knot before he heard the confirmation.
"It's Neal."
Peter jogged down the staircase. He'd left his laptop in the study and he went there to hear out how bad it was.
"The surveillance van saw him leave Bianka's building at ten forty-five. He walks home from her place. It takes fifteen minutes tops."
Peter knew the distance was a short one. According to the protocol they'd established, Neal was to call once he arrived home.
"When the van hadn't heard anything after thirty minutes, they called him and were put straight through to voicemail. They contacted backup personnel to check Neal's apartment. The team's over there now. The clothes he wore are on the bed, as well as his two phones, watch, wallet, and keys. The terrace door was open. I'm heading over."
"I'll meet you there."
Peter looked up to see El standing in the doorway. Her arms were crossed, her hands clutching her robe even though the house was warm. "It's Neal, isn't it?"
"He's been taken. That's all I know for now. Jones has dispatched agents to keep watch outside our house."
"You'll keep me updated?"
He kissed her. "We're in this together. I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything."
#
"Bianka claims Neal left her apartment around eight o'clock after only staying a few minutes," Tricia said. "That refutes the surveillance van report, not that I told her that."
Peter took a sip of cold coffee from the mug which had been on his desk since he arrived at work. Jones had phoned him ten hours ago. During that time, Bianka had been brought in for questioning, and her apartment was searched. The only non-standard item found was the bug detector Neal had mentioned. They also confiscated the drawings she'd made of Neal. The professed claim that they were evidence was dubious, but Peter couldn't bear the thought of her having them.
Tricia was in his office with an update after having spent the past hour questioning her.
"I reviewed the feed from the surveillance cameras in Neal's loft," Peter said. "It was Jacek who disguised himself as Neal. He had a mask and wig on. I can understand why the surveillance agents were fooled. He used an electronic device to disable the alarm at the front door when he entered the mansion. It looks like the same one used on my door. Jacek shed Neal's clothes and items then left by the terrace."
"Neal might have been abducted as soon as he arrived at Bianka's apartment," Tricia noted. "Possibly long before the monitoring team saw the man they thought was Neal leave."
"There's a service entrance on the back of the building. One of the teams reported that some tenants were moving out and had rented a small truck. Neal could have been hidden within a wardrobe box."
"Bianka is playing the innocent card," Tricia said. "She cried throughout my questioning, every inch the distraught girlfriend. The only evidence we have is from the surveillance of her at the museum and restaurant, none of which we can use without exposing our operation. What about Jacek?"
"Agents knew he'd gone to Bianka's building. They assumed he was meeting with her and Neal. No one saw him leave her place. He returned to his hotel room at two a.m. For the moment, he hasn't been brought in, but he's under constant observation. He'll be arrested later in the morning. We delayed, hoping we'd first be able to trace a call."
"We won't be able to hold Bianka longer than twenty-four hours," she warned. "She's requested a lawyer."
Peter swiveled his chair at the knock on his door. He could see Henry standing outside and called him in.
Henry had returned home the previous evening from London, but the exhaustion on his face wasn't due to jetlag. Peter had called him from Neal's apartment around three that morning. Peter wished he had better news for him. Tricia's report contained little that was new.
"Where do you think Neal is?" Tricia asked.
Henry exhaled slowly. "I'd like to think close by. We've been operating on the theory that Rolf and Klaus wanted to keep Neal in place. Were we wrong?"
"I don't believe so," she said, "but Python may have different priorities. We've suspected there could be friction between the Mansfelds and Python. Now that you've met her, what's your assessment?"
Henry rubbed the stubble on his chin for a moment. "She was charming, I'll give her that . . . and utterly ruthless. I may have been affected by all the snakes which were surrounding us. They're coldblooded. She struck me as being the same way."
"You spent hours with her," Peter pointed out. "You couldn't have just discussed snakes."
"Generally it was safe topics. She talked about Chester and the antique discoveries she'd made. The Win-Win techs reviewed the recording and verified her knowledge of antiques. I assumed she knew about my job at Win-Win. I portrayed myself as working in the marketing department for software sales, which is true as far as it goes."
"Do you think her purpose in inviting you to her room was simply to make out?" Tricia asked skeptically.
"I didn't see what else she had to gain from it," he said. "Everything I was wearing or carrying has been examined. She didn't leave any diabolical device."
Peter's eyes moved to the computer display when a soft beep alerted him to an incoming email. "It's from Neal! One of his personal email accounts—Nick Halden's. The subject line has one word: Friday." He clicked on the title to read the message. Tricia and Henry stood behind him to read over his shoulders.
Tomorrow. Noon. Leave the Federal Building and walk east on Worth Street. Come alone.
Worth Street was just north of the office complex. One image was attached to the email. Peter downloaded it and ran a virus scan on it before viewing it. Tricia and Henry didn't speculate on what it would be. They didn't need to. Peter already knew it would be an image of Neal, perhaps being tortured, which would indicate nothing. Rolf had doctored photos before. He braced himself to open it.
"Isn't that one of the playing cards you found in San Diego?" Tricia asked, staring at the graphic.
Peter nodded. "It's from the Call of Cthulhu card game. We found it in Neal's hotel room when he was abducted." The card showed a man in a suit entangled in octopus tentacles. His arms were outreached toward the observer as if pleading for help. The man bore an uncanny resemblance to Neal.
Henry took a breath. "Rolf's using Azathoth's calling card."
"It's a natural gambit," Tricia said. "Rolf believes we haven't identified him."
Peter took a breath. "We've been urging Rolf to make an offer for months. I expect I'll finally get it."
#
Sara half-expected to see Mozzie waiting on the doorstep by the time she arrived at her apartment building. When she told him she'd be home at six, she hadn't allowed for the massive traffic jam which brought her bus to a standstill. The delay gave her plenty of time to puzzle over why he wanted to see her. Her best guess was a script revision. Mozzie liked using her as a sounding board for his story ideas, and she was happy to oblige. She'd enjoyed working with him on the script for Henry's film and was enough of a movie buff to recognize talent when she saw it. Mozzie could make a name for himself in screenwriting, not that he'd want his own name to be famous, of course.
By the time the door buzzer sounded, she'd already changed from heels to comfortable flats. She hoped to coax him to stay for dinner. They could go out or call in. The evenings had been lonely since Neal stopped visiting.
"I brought liquid libations," Mozzie said when he walked in. He peered around the living room curiously as he handed her a wine bag. "So this is your hideaway."
Hideaway? An odd choice of word. "I'm subletting it from a friend who has a temporary assignment in London. Would you like me to show you around?"
"I already see the room I'm looking for." He headed straight for her small kitchen. "We'll need two glasses."
Sara opened the cabinet where she kept her barware. "It was kind of you to bring wine but I always keep a supply on hand."
"I'm sure you do, but this is a special variety—one of my honey wines. It's called Ohelo Sunset. A Chardonnay glass will do admirably."
Sara wasn't familiar with the variety. And why did he think she was well stocked? Perhaps she was being overly suspicious. He may have assumed she liked wine based on their weekend in Cape May. "Is that blend particularly suitable for script-plotting?"
He gave her a sharp glance. "Very astute. And for calmness. You'll need both."
She grew uneasy. It could simply be a major addition to Henry's movie but her heart warned her it was something else.
He uncorked the bottle with the corkscrew she supplied and poured out two glasses. Handing her one of them, he nodded toward the couch in the living area. "Is that where Professor Plum does his scheming?"
Sara stared at him in shock, unable to disguise her surprise. She knew Mozzie was brilliant but they'd been so careful. She didn't think anyone had guessed that she and Neal had given themselves code names from the game Clue.
He took a seat and patted the cushion next to him. "Come sit beside me, Miss Scarlet, and don't worry, your secret is safe."
"How did you find out?" she stammered.
"It wasn't your fault or Neal's, although I first suspected I was being played when we were on the sailboat. Do you remember when Neal had a brief attack of seasickness?"
"I thought it might be the curse," she admitted.
"I did too. And that's what led to your initial unmasking. Your expression betrayed more concern than was typical for a crew member. My next clue arrived when I stayed at Neal's loft the week the evil goddess Astrena had him in her clutches."
"When he was dreaming of Goya?"
He nodded. "He didn't only dream of Goya. You were in his thoughts as well. Even though he was speaking Spanish, it wasn't difficult for me to follow the breadcrumbs." He chuckled. "Or should I say clues? Actor names would be appropriate for the con. I assume Alicia refers to Alicia Silverstone in the movie Clueless and Matthew is based on Matthew Macfadyen in Pride and Prejudice?"
Sara exhaled. "Right again. The matchmakers thought we were clueless about our love lives, so we decided to have fun with it. You're the first to expose us." She took a hasty gulp of wine. "I assume Neal knows."
"No, and that's why I'm here. I wouldn't have said anything ordinarily, but I wanted to prove you can trust me . . . just like I trust you."
A sense of dread filled her heart. "Why did you come?" she whispered.
"Neal was abducted last night."
"It finally happened," she said mechanically, her hand beginning to shake despite her efforts to control it. Mozzie took the glass from her before the wine spilled. "Do they have any idea where he's being held?"
"No. I met with the suit in the park by the Federal Building. His concern for me was touching. He even offered me Bureau protection, as if I'd accept." Mozzie explained the little they knew about the circumstances.
She grasped his hand. "Thank you for telling me."
"Neal's counting on us, and you have an important part to play. You've been using Clue to plot your strategy. It's time we do the same. Did you give me a name?"
"We couldn't leave you out. You're Reverend Green."
"An excellent choice." He glanced toward the bookcase. "Where do you keep the game board?"
"I'll get it." She stood up, glad for the opportunity to walk out her nerves. Neal expected to be taken she reminded herself as she opened a drawer in the entertainment center. He hadn't told her in advance when he and Henry thought they'd be abducted by Vincent Adler, but this time he'd warned her of the risk. He was counting on her not falling apart at the news, and she wasn't going to let him down. She was immensely grateful to Mozzie for telling her. Peter probably wouldn't. Why should he? She placed the box on the cocktail table and lifted the lid.
"Have some more wine. Neal drank copious amounts of this blend upon his return from Los Angeles. It worked miracles."
"I could use one right now," she admitted, taking a healthy sip. "Okay, Reverend Green, what do you propose?" She could kiss him for providing her something to focus on.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag. "As I suspected, you've been playing with the original pieces. For a con this elaborate, we'll need additional players. Luckily, I have a later version with many additional characters. We may need them all."
Neal had told her how Mozzie taught him to compartmentalize any fear and tension accompanying a job by reducing the components to a board game. She now had a better understanding of how it worked. Clue used to be a lighthearted pastime. Now it was the means to help Neal. As she picked up the Professor Plum piece, she felt a connection to him that no one could sever.
"You hold onto the Professor for now," he advised unnecessarily as she clutched him even tighter. "We start with the known. I'll designate Prince Azure to be Rolf. He's most likely in New York. Peter received an anonymous invitation to meet. Rolf's been yearning for a face-to-face for months. I predict it will be tomorrow. We'll place Rolf in the library on the game board."
"Will Klaus be with him?"
"Unlikely. They're too clever to travel together. Klaus is probably far away. We'll use the Monsieur Brunette piece for him. He'll be in the ballroom. As for Python . . ." He eyed the various game pieces. "She shall be Lady Lavender." Mozzie placed her in the lounge.
As Sara studied the plastic figures, possibilities emerged. "Peter should be Sergeant Gray. He'll meet with Rolf." She moved his piece to the library next to Rolf's avatar.
"Henry's already met Python. I assume you picked Colonel Mustard for him?" At Sara's nod, he placed the yellow figure next to Lady Lavender in the lounge then studied the board. "It's now time for the Professor."
"Where is he?" Sara asked anxiously, growing immersed in the game unfolding in front of her.
Mozzie was eyeing her steadily through his glasses. "You already know the answer. With Monsieur Brunette in the ballroom."
Sara was uncomfortably reluctant to place the piece on the board. Mozzie was right. Neal was most likely with Klaus, but she couldn't be the one to place him there.
Mozzie appeared to understand. "You'll allow me?" He gently unwrapped her fingers to take the Professor from her. Sara chided herself for being ridiculous. It was only a game piece.
"I'll place as much distance as possible between him and Monsieur Brunette," Mozzie assured her, "but they'll both need to be in the same room."
"What about us?" she asked.
"Ah, you're beginning to see our advantage. Excellent! We're the wild cards. We're not associated with any of the hostiles on the board." He picked up the figures for Miss Scarlet and Reverend Green and placed them at the entrance to the ballroom. "It's up to us to check on Neal." His expression grew serious. "I'm not concerned that Klaus will injure him physically, but mentally?" He shrugged. "Doctor Penfold is likely on hand to provide reinforcement. Did Neal ever tell you about a second trigger?"
"No," she blurted, aghast at the thought. "You mean some other object was planted in his mind in addition to The Astronomer?"
"That's right. Neal's therapist had never heard of a second trigger being used in virtual reality mind control, but that doesn't negate the possibility."
"But we have no idea where Klaus is holding him."
"We have a start. The ballroom is a placeholder for the actual location while we make contingency preparations. Once it's pinpointed, will you accompany me? We may only have an hour's notice."
Sara didn't need time to consider. She had no urgent case, and even if she did, she'd make an excuse. She nodded. "I'll alert the office."
"Good. We're the only ones who can do it. Peter and Henry most certainly are already being tailed. They can't disappear off grid like us. I've already spoken with Richard and Janet. They stand ready to help us with disguises."
Mozzie's girlfriend Janet was a costume designer who worked on Broadway productions. She had ready access to wigs and costumes of all descriptions, and Sara already was familiar with Richard's expertise from the U-boat con. "How will we know what to take?"
"Once we're on location, we may need to buy or steal the appropriate clothes," he added. "Janet will be most helpful with wigs. Richard's offered to meet with us tomorrow night. We'll also wear disguises while traveling. We may wish to take props for a few standard characters to have in reserve."
Sara nodded, keeping a firm grip on herself. Mozzie was showing his trust in her. She was determined to prove herself worthy of it. "Does Peter know about your plans?"
He frowned. "All in due time. Rolf could use truth serum on him. Personally, I doubt it, but we can't take the risk. You should prepare your emergency kit immediately and start thinking of an alias. I'll provide the passports."
"Where do you think Neal is?" she asked.
He hesitated. "Everyone believes that the Mansfelds want Neal in New York, but Ydrus's initial operations were all in Europe. Neal is likely either close to New York or somewhere in Europe. When he and Peter were abducted last year, they were taken to New Jersey. Somehow I doubt Rolf will be as considerate this time."
