Chapter 5: Payback

When Diana heard a light tap on the back door to the surveillance van, her initial inclination was to ignore it, but Jones decided to check it out. He was probably bored. They'd been parked outside Alex's hotel for hours with nothing to show for it.

"Mozzie?" Jones simply stared at him for a moment. "Why are you here?"

"I realized you'd need a little refreshment." He jumped inside, carrying two shopping bags. "Call it a pre-Valentine's Day celebration. I have amaretto coffee and cupcakes." He retrieved a box from the larger bag and Diana placed her fist over her mouth to silence her moan. "Red velvet, cherry bomb, triple chocolate, raspberry beret, I hope there's something you find appealing."

"You're trying to bribe us," Diana accused but she heard the wavering in her voice, as the aroma from the cupcakes pulled her closer.

"Never," he denied vigorously. "I simply wanted to keep two valued members of the FBI Gestapo in tiptop shape."

"Now I know you're full of it," Jones said, reaching for a cupcake. "But I don't care."

Diana reached for the triple-chocolate beacon of pleasure. "I'm still not sanctioning your so-called romance with Lavinia."

He took the lids off the coffee cups. "Everything is negotiable. Let the bidding commence."

"Don't confuse the Round Table with democracy," she warned. "Plots are not decided by a popularity contest."

"What do you have in mind for my character?" Jones demanded, helping himself to a raspberry beret. "He's virtually disappeared for the past several stories. I was disappointed to learn that Arkham Jones didn't even come up during this week's planning session—one that I had to miss because of my surveillance responsibilities." He cocked a brow at Diana.

This was a tricky situation. Jones was her superior at work if not in Arkham. Jones's opinion carried much more weight than Mozzie's. Fortunately, she'd already thought of a plausible delaying tactic. "Henry's working on your character and has several promising ideas, but they'll have to wait till after the next story." She and Christie had plans for the evening. She didn't want to wind up being scheduled for the night shift too.

"One idea I did like," Jones conceded, "was the Tudor Crown. I hadn't even heard of the artifact." He turned to Mozzie. "Tricia told me it was your idea. How did you come up with it?"

"Lost treasures are one of my specialties," he dismissed airily. He handed a napkin to Diana and stroked his upper lip. She quickly wiped chocolate frosting from her mouth.

"But I'm glad you brought it up," Mozzie continued. "The Tudor Crown is an ideal device to encourage Cupid to pay Lavinia a call."

"Cupid will have to wait his turn," she retorted. "Where's the gripping story arc for Jones and me? You and Henry owe us after all the favors we did for Neal and Sara. It's payback time." When he didn't respond, she added in her take-no-prisoners voice, "Is that understood?"

Mozzie had his eyes riveted to the display. "Did you notice the man who just entered the building?"

"Yeah, what about him?" Jones rewound the feed to take another look.

"Search your database for Sebastian Hendricks," he said. "He's better known as 'Hatchet Hendricks.' Nasty character. He's done a few jobs for Wilkes. Now what, I wonder, is his business with Alex?"

#

By the end of a long day on Saturday, Neal had finished the brushwork on the forgeries. All that remained was aging the canvas. He'd refined the craquelure application to a three-step process. Each step was separated by a few hours of curing time. He took advantage of the evening lull to visit his art studio at Columbia where his own works were forlornly awaiting his attention. The twenty-minute walk from June's mansion was a refreshing break after being cooped up inside all day.

On the return trip, Neal took his time ambling along Riverside Drive. A block from June's, he was approached by a man with olive skin in his twenties. Since he was carrying a map, Neal assumed he was going to ask for directions.

As the stranger drew near, he held the map in front of his face. "I have a message for you from Sara Ellis." He pointed to a dingy white cargo van parked along the street. "Follow me."

His heart beating a staccato warning, Neal knew who the delivery man would be. He stealthily pressed a side button on his custom Bureau watch. Travis's team would receive the GPS signal and begin monitoring the live audio feed.

The courier opened the back door of the van and gestured for Neal to enter. As expected, Ryan Wilkes was waiting for him. There was no sign of Sara.

"Neal Caffrey, it's been too long," Wilkes sneered. "The last time you cut out on me, we had some unfinished business to settle."

Like you wanting to kill me? Alex told Neal she hadn't mentioned him to Wilkes. Had she lied or had Wilkes discovered Neal was helping her? Mozzie had spotted one of his henchmen go into Alex's hotel. Did she tell him about Sara?

"I could say this is a pleasure, but we both know that'd be a lie," Neal said. There was no point in trying to con Wilkes. He already knew Neal despised him. "You have a message for me?"

"That pretty Sterling-Bosch investigator you've been seeing is my insurance policy. You mess up in any way, her life will be canceled." The dark brown skin on his face hardened. Wilkes might dress dapperly, but he was the most ruthless man Neal had ever met. "I know you're helping Alex get the painting, and that's fine by me. But if you try to double-cross me, Sara will pay the price."

"How do I know you have her?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Wilkes swiveled his laptop so Neal could view the feed. Sara was sitting bound to a chair, a gag over her mouth. Her dress was streaked with dirt but she didn't appear to be injured. Wilkes pushed a speed-dial number. "We're ready for the demonstration," he said into the phone.

The pop of gunfire was heard clearly through the phone. Sara started, her green eyes wide with shock, as a bullet dug a hole into the plasterboard a foot from her head.

"Next time my associate will aim for her forehead," Wilkes said calmly. "But I know you won't let that happen. You get me the painting. The pretty lady goes free. You screw up, not only will she die but I'll provide evidence to her employers as well as yours about what you've been up to. Your reputation will be ruined. You'll have no choice but to work for me." He gave a cold smile. "I've found it's always helpful to not beat around the bush, don't you agree?"

#

"Wilkes has Sara." Neal fought to keep his voice under control so Peter wouldn't think he was as freaked out as he was. The bullet plowing into the plasterboard next to Sara's head played in an endless loop in his head.

Wilkes had shoved him out of the van with a final warning to not screw up if he didn't want Sara's blood on his hands. Neal barely held it together to transmit the safe word through his watch. He wasn't the one in danger.

"Travis had already contacted me and was reporting the transmission when you called." Peter was speaking more slowly than normal. Neal recognized the tactic, but the attempt to calm him wasn't working. There was a loud thrumming in his ears that wouldn't go away. "Were you able to get the license plate number of the van?"

Neal stopped pacing to stare through the French doors onto the terrace. Somewhere in the city, Sara was tied up, Wilkes's prisoner.

"Neal, what can you tell me about the van?"

"White, grimy. Late-model Ford cargo van." Neal swallowed down the bile creeping up his throat and took a breath before continuing. "The license plate was covered in mud. I couldn't read it."

"That's okay. The ID Mozzie gave of Hatchet Hendricks provided a search zone. Agents tracked him to East Harlem before they lost him. The odds are excellent he's working with Wilkes."

"The only person I saw in the feed was Sara. She was sitting on a metal stool in front of a blank white wall. No one else was in the video. No other sounds or identifying marks . . ." His words trailed off. There was virtually nothing to go on. Just because Hendricks went to East Harlem didn't necessarily indicate Sara was there, and even if she was, the area was too large to be searched effectively.

"We'll find her, Neal. Sara's a pro. She'll come out of this okay. Remember, you're not to leave June's. You're scheduled to fake the heist tomorrow evening. Focus on those paintings. I'll be in touch."

#

El twisted the terrycloth belt of her bathrobe as she sat next to Peter while he talked with Neal. When Travis called, she'd just finished her shower. Peter was watching a late-night comedy show in bed.

"Is Neal holding it together?" she asked when he rang off.

"Barely," Peter said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Someone from his past threatening the woman he loves is the nightmare he dreaded would happen."

"Sara probably shares the same concerns. Neal could have been targeted by some enemy she made. In any case, he couldn't have just kept her locked up."

"Wilkes has Neal over a barrel. Travis is alerting the team. There's damned little to go on though."

She nodded absently. "And you can't appear to be aware you know about it. Wilkes could be monitoring us too."

"You're right. Just like he's been keeping tabs on Neal." His lips tightened into a thin line. "Somehow he found out about Sara. Did Alex tell him?"

#

"Did you?" Neal demanded. There was too much anger in his tone, but he was beyond caring. He glared at the burner phone, picturing Alex's face.

"No, I didn't tell Wilkes about your girlfriend. And I didn't mention that you were helping me either." Alex sounded equally upset. "How could you accuse me of that? Raquel knew you were dating Ellis. Wilkes could have found out too. You told me he was itching for payback. He may have had you followed for months."

Did he believe her? Neal's eyes drifted to the chessboard on the cocktail table. Wilkes could be using both Alex and Sara to get to him. He might have ordered Alex to steal a painting from a museum in New York, expecting that she would enlist Neal's help.

"I'm sorry about Sara," Alex said. Her voice was a shock of cold water on his face. He'd forgotten she was still on the line. "And even sorrier Wilkes has his hooks into you too. You're in love with her, aren't you?"

What was the point of deflecting? Was he always going to have to lie about Sara?

"Raquel warned me that might be the case," Alex continued, not waiting for him to answer. "You're really hopeless, you know. First Kate, now Sara. Why do you always fall for women who are no good for you?"

He swallowed. "Don't get carried away. Sara and I have only dated a few times, but yes I like her. I'd be concerned about anyone who'd been kidnapped by Wilkes."

"Don't worry, we'll fix it," she said confidently. "Sara will never find out about your connection to Wilkes—or me. I can plant a bug when I give Wilkes the painting."

"I'm going with you to the meeting. At this point, there's no need to pretend I'm not involved."

"The appointment's for three o'clock on Monday morning," she warned.

"I'll have the painting by then. Tell him that I insist on proof that Sara's alive before I'll turn over the painting."

Wilkes had said he'd bring along an expert to verify the painting wasn't a forgery. Neal longed to know who he intended to use. The authentication would be done in the van while they waited. If it passed, Alex would get her jewels. Neal didn't think Wilkes would renege on the bargain. He wanted to keep both Neal and Alex in his stable for future jobs.

The door into the hallway opened silently while Neal was talking with Alex. Mozzie stepped inside and stood next to Neal, not saying a word, until he ended the call.

"How did you know to come?" Neal asked.

Mozzie sat down beside him. "El contacted me. We'll get Sara back, and make sure Wilkes never threatens anyone again."

"And how do you propose to accomplish that?" Neal asked, frustration leaking into his voice. Confident words, but that's all they were. Mozzie was trying to help but realistically what could he do?

"You're not the only one who's been mistreated by Wilkes. No one in this town likes him. While you work on your assignment"—Mozzie nodded pointedly to the two easels—"I'll get the word out. This is not that different from when you were abducted by the Mansfelds. Sara came through for you, and now you need to do the same for her."

Neal shook his head. "There's a huge difference. Rolf and Klaus wanted me alive. Wilkes would kill Sara in a heartbeat."

"Stress is clouding your logic," Mozzie countered. "Allow me to explain. With Sara, Wilkes thinks he has the perfect leverage to control you. She's become his golden egg and he won't harm her."

Neal hoped that was true, but Wilkes likely believed Neal would react the same way if anyone he cared about was threatened. Until Wilkes was behind bars, no one was safe. "How did he find out about us? We've kept our relationship a secret up to just recently, and Sara's barely been in town."

"But she was here in late January, and we already knew some of Raquel's associates spotted you and Sara in Florence over Christmas. When you were in Italy, you assumed you might be tracked by Mafia henchmen. Wilkes operates overseas as well as in the States. If he'd wanted to discover a vulnerability, it wouldn't have been very difficult."

Mozzie was right. Neal and Sara had even discussed how best to make use of her in the Steinar Wolff con because they realized they couldn't keep their relationship a secret.

"Sara's used to dangerous situations," Mozzie continued. "You'll both come out of this in better shape than before."

Neal let Mozzie's reassuring words wash over him but they didn't penetrate. He had less than twenty-four hours to finish the forgeries and stage the heist. He went through the final steps on the paintings with his brain paused on the freeze-frame of Sara at the precise moment the bullet landed next to her.

On Sunday, June and Mozzie dropped in periodically to check on him. Neal mouthed platitudes about being okay. He was grateful their visits were brief so he didn't have to maintain the pretense for long. Henry had offered Win-Win's assistance but there was little they could do to supplement the Bureau's efforts. Peter kept in touch with regular updates even though there was no news to report. Neal should feel comforted that the team was working so hard to find Sara, but with nothing to go on, he didn't have much hope for a breakthrough.

Up to now, Wilkes's M.O. had been to call Alex when he wanted to meet her. He allocated very little time for her to arrive at the designated spot. That meant the best chance to plant a tracking device in the van was when they delivered the painting.

The Frick closed on Sundays at five. Alex believed that Neal would hide in a storeroom in the afternoon and then steal the painting after the cleaning staff had finished their work. The canvas was small—a sixteen-by-eighteen-inch abused masterpiece—and easy to conceal. It wasn't difficult to convince Alex that he'd used his newfound expertise in security software to hack into the museum's grid. Convincing her that she couldn't accompany him on the heist was easy. She believed she was being monitored, and Neal could make the case that taking her along would be an unnecessary extra layer of risk.

When he arrived at the Frick on Sunday afternoon, he headed for the storeroom just as he'd outlined to Alex. He couldn't risk the chance she'd told Wilkes and his spies were monitoring Neal's movements. The museum, of course, knew about the operation. Security personnel left him alone to his thoughts during the long hours. Sara was also waiting. Was she in darkness, too? Was she agonizing like him over what she could have done differently to prevent Wilkes from snatching her?

Neal jumped when his phone buzzed. When he saw it was Peter's number, he held his breath. Peter was going to tell him that Sara had managed to free herself. Their nightmare was over.

"You have news?" he didn't need to whisper, but it helped to conceal his nervousness.

"We updated the plan," Peter corrected. "I decided the risk of discovery is too high if you try to leave a bug. Instead, Travis's team will plant tracking devices to the chassis while you're meeting with Wilkes inside."

Neal could have argued the point but his heart was elsewhere. "Anything about Sara?"

"One of Mozzie's contacts confirmed that Hendricks was spotted on a block in East Harlem. When Alex gets the call from Wilkes, we're going to stage a blackout on a twenty-block radius around where Hendricks was seen. It will last for thirty minutes. We're counting on Sara to use the power outage to free herself. If you were in her situation, what would you do?"

"I would have already loosened any restraints they'd used on me. Once the lights went out, I'd conceal myself, making them think I'd fled the scene. At some point, they'd leave to search for me. That's when I'd make my escape."

"Do you think Sara could pull off something similar?"

"Possibly. Depending on her condition . . . If the room's been secured with an electronic alarm, it won't function during the blackout. That will help."

"We'll have the area blanketed with plainclothes officers and agents. We hope to find her while the painting's being authenticated."

Could, should, hope—so many conditionals. But it was a chance and Neal clung to that.

Notes: Find the Lady is no longer just a scam, but a matter of life and death. You'll need to wait a little longer for Mozzie's idea about the Tudor Crown. The Arkham Files story he referenced is Queen's Gambit.