Everything Old is new Again
By Ldynwaitin
Chapter Twenty-Three
The indomitable Dr. Coleridge
"Get going, stop dragging your feet," Sullivan grouched as he pushed Neal down the road. He was moving to slow for him. They needed to get as far away from the mansion as possible. Unfortunately, with the car out of gas that meant walking in a drenching rain.
Neal planted his feet on the wet asphalt and tried to catch his breath. He was cold, soaking wet and exhausted from the pulsing pain in his shoulder and ribs. "Keep up this pace," he panted. "And you'll have to be dragging me. Or have you forgotten what you did to me?"
Sullivan saw the red spot on Neal's shoulder spreading from the rain, he was struggling to catch his breath as he held his side. For the first time he regretted his visit to Neal, it was slowing them down. He was about to shove him again when he saw lights shinning on the road. Turning around he saw a car coming their way.
"Here we go," Sullivan said. Grabbing his arm, he pulled Neal to the side of the road. "Come on, stop for me," he said, as he waved the car to stop.
The car halted next to them. The passenger window slowly moved down. Sullivan saw a small man wearing a black beret, green lensed glasses and a full beard sitting behind the steering wheel.
"Was that red corvette back there yours, sir?" the man asked him.
"Yeah, we ran out of gas." Sullivan pulled his wallet out and showed his FBI badge to the man. "I'm Agent Rory Sullivan, I work for the FBI." He grabbed Neal's wrist and showed his cuffs. "This man is in my custody. He's a convicted criminal. I caught him on the run after he stole that car. I was driving him to the city when it ran out of gas. My cell phone isn't working. I'd appreciate it if you could take us to the nearest city."
"Sorry, Sir, but your phone won't work here. This is the deadest dead zone in the county." The bespectacled man poked the bridge of his glasses up his nose. He glared at Neal. "He looks like a hardened criminal to me, sir. Am I safe?"
Sullivan opened his jacket to show his gun. "You don't have to worry. He's handcuffed and I'll keep an eye on him."
"Very well, I can't see you walking in this rain, but put him in the back seat. Never did trust them pretty boys. He has shifty eyes."
"Don't worry about him, Mr.?"
The man tipped his hat. "Dr. Charles Coleridge, sir. But the doctorate is purely academic. I'm an astronomer by trade."
"Astronomer," Sullivan said. "Is that why you're on the road so late?" Sullivan was wondering why he was on this backroad at night.
"I come here to get away from the city lights. I was going to look at the Perseids meteor shower until this shower started. It comes only once a year. I have a Newtonian Telescope in the trunk. Pretty proud of that baby. She has a maximum 269 magnification and..."
Sullivan cut him off. "Yes, very interesting but we're really getting soaked here. I'll put my prisoner in the back seat."
Sullivan saw Coleridge nodding his head as he wound the window back up. He pulled Neal to the side of the car. "You're looking a little pale there, Caffrey." He placed his hand over the wound and squeezed it. Neal squinted his eyes and grunted in pain. "No funny business, you hear me? Now get in the back of the car and keep your mouth shut. Unless you want that man's death on your conscious."
"Why didn't you kill him and take the car?" Neal asked him. "Why stop at four?"
"Because Peter isn't going to have any trouble handling Lilith and Albert. Once the Marshals arrive, he'll tell them to search for two people, not three. He's not the only smart agent in the agency. Now get in there, Caffrey."
Sullivan shoved him into the backseat. As he sat down, Neal noticed in the rearview mirror the driver lifting his glasses and winking at him.
"Moz," Neal whispered. He hid the relieved smile that fought to show through. He knew where there was Moz, there had to be Peter.
Sullivan sat down in the front seat. "Where's the nearest town?" he asked Mozzie.
"Webster Groves, that's where I live. It's about half an hour from here on a good day. But I suppose you'd want to take that jail bird to St. Louis. Do you want me to drive you there? It'd be no problem."
"No!" Sullivan blurted out. Realizing that he sounded panicked, he added, "Webster Groves is fine. I'll get in touch with the local authorities there and they'll help me transport him to St. Louis."
"Sounds good to me," Mozzie said. He took in a deep breath and continued driving down the road. Step one accomplished, he had Neal. He fought to keep his voice calm when he noticed the blood on Neal's shoulder. He didn't know he was injured, Peter never told him. Tightly gripping the steering wheel, he stared ahead. Peter had a plan, drive to a crowded area, one with people and cars and slam on the brakes. He just needed to keep Sullivan occupied.
As they rode down the dark road Sullivan stared outside the windshield. Every so often he would glance back to check on Caffrey and to see if they were being followed. So far there was no sign of any cars following them. He smartly grinned knowing that he beat the great Peter Burke. He was surprised that he found Caffrey so fast, he gave him that. But now he had Caffrey. He was confident that there was no way he would be able to follow them.
"So," Mozz said. "Here's an interesting bit of space trivia. Did you know Buzz Aldren's mother's maiden name was Moon?"
"Fascinating," Sullivan drawled. He was already getting tired of this little man.
Mozz pointed ahead. "This road leads to the main road. From there I just need to get on 44 to cross the Meramec River."
Bored, Sullivan noticed something on the windshield. As he read it his body stiffened, he slowly shoved his hand in his jacket. Neal noticed Sullivan suddenly stiffen as he stared at the windshield. He looked past him and saw a decal on the glass. It said, 'Alamo rental'.
"Nice car," Sullivan said to Mozzie.
"Thanks, had this baby for a while now. Betsy's all paid up, never given me any problems."
The sticker on the windshield told Sullivan this was a rental car. Coleridge was lying, but why? The only explanation he could think of was that he was not who he said he was. Back at the mansion he knew that Peter was not alone. He had an accomplice with him. He was the one at the gate that started a distraction so Peter could get inside unnoticed. That accomplice could be the man sitting next to him. He tightly gripped the handle of his gun and began taking it out of his jacket.
Neal realized at the same time as Sullivan that Mozzie was caught in a lie, the car was a rental. As soon as Neal saw Sullivan pulling out his gun, he threw his hands forward and pulled the chain on the cuffs tightly around Sullivan's neck. Sullivan gripped the chain on the handcuff as it dug into his neck.
Neal pulled back hard as he grunted, "Mozzie, pull over."
Mozzie never heard what Neal said, once he saw the gun, he panicked. He began driving all over the road. Made slick from the rain he spun around and slid off the road. He drove into a field. His headlights reflected on a sign that said, 'Glen's farm'.
Neal placed his knee in the back of the front seat and pulled on the handcuffs. Not able to break Neal's hold, Sullivan wildly shot twice at the windshield. Mozzie screamed as the first shot went through the thick glass. He was unable to look out the shattered windshield. Mozzie immediately slammed his brakes hard. He felt the car crash into something.
As Neal continued to keep Sullivan restrained, he heard a click from behind. He could just make out the trunk popping open.
Mozzie quickly opened his door and tumbled out of the car, he fell into a large puddle of mud. He screamed, "SUIT, NOW!"
Peter had to brace himself as he was suddenly buffeted back and forth in the trunk. Something must have gone wrong. He felt the car swerving and skidding. Once Peter heard two shots fired, he felt the car hit something large. As soon as it stopped, he immediately pulled the release lever of the trunk, popping it open. He promised himself that he wouldn't let anything happen to Mozzie. Once he jumped out of the trunk, he saw that they had slammed into a tractor in the middle of a field. Mozzie was falling out of the front seat. With Mozzie safely out of the car he opened the door to the back seat on the driver's side.
He saw Neal was choking Sullivan with the chain to his handcuffs. Sullivan was working on getting the chain off with one hand, with the other he tried to aim his gun at Neal. Peter's arms reached into the car.
"He's getting loose, Neal," Peter shouted. "We gotta go."
Releasing his hold on Sullivan, Neal ducked as Sullivan fired his gun into the backseat, just missing his head. He crawled towards Peter who pulled him out of the car.
"Go, Mozzie," Peter shouted. "Get out of here, we'll follow you."
Blinking his eyes from the rain, Mozzie ran away from the car into the darkness.
Sullivan saw Peter pulling Neal out of the car. He gasped and coughed as he tried to catch his breath. He was furious, he kicked the door open and searched the area. It was dark, the only light came from the car's headlights. He could see that the car had crashed into a tractor. It was standing in a field.
"I'm done playing games, Caffrey," he screamed into the night. "I'm fucking killing Peter, then I'm going to make you wish I killed you too."
Leaving Sullivan behind Mozzie found himself splashing down water filled furrows. Looking at the crop he realized he was moving through a rice field. He saw Peter behind him with Neal. He tramped through the water filled troughs as he tried to put some distance between him and Sullivan.
Neal was struggling to run in the mud. "Just my luck. It would be raining."
"Your lucky star seems to have eluded you lately," Peter said, with a chuckle.
Neal glanced back, with a lightening flash he tried to see if Sullivan was following them. They were walking in a rice field. To their left was a thick wooded area.
"Where's Mozzie?" Neal shouted. After he left the car, they lost him in the field.
"No idea," Peter said. "I'm sure he'll find a place to hide. Right now, we need to find a safe place for ourselves." Peter searched ahead. "Hopefully, the owner of this field is living close by."
Peter could just make out a taller crop ahead. They needed to get there as fast as possible. As they neared the taller crop, Peter heard shots ring out, he grabbed Neal and pulled him towards what looked like a cornfield. Glancing back, Neal could just make out Sullivan struggling to run in the mud. He gasped as Peter, and he dived into the cornfield.
Sitting on his knees, Peter looked through the stalks. Sullivan fired off four shots, he was thankful none of them hit him or Neal. He faintly saw the shadow of Sullivan struggling to catch up to them.
Neal finally had the chance to take off the cuffs. The rain was actually helping him. Stretching his hands out to make them thinner, he tucked in his thumb. He managed to wiggle his wet hands through the cuffs. He was happy to have full use of both hands now.
"Come on, let's go, Neal," Peter said.
Pulling him up, he practically dragged him through the cornfield. Neal tried to move on his own, but he was just too tired. Minutes later he stumbled and fell on the muddy field.
Peter tried to help him stand up. "Neal, I don't have any weapons, we have to keep moving. You need to get up."
Neal shook his head. "No, Peter. I'm slowing you down." Running through the mud tired him more than he was before. He knew Peter was also in danger trying to save him.
"Here," Neal said. Digging into his pocket he pulled out the jackknife that Herdrich gave him. "Now you have a weapon. He won't kill me," Neal panted. "At least not right away. He doesn't know we have that. Hide in the corn, wait for your chance."
"Neal, this is not…"
Neal pushed him away. "We don't have time."
Peter knew he was right. Taking the knife, he ran into the tall growth of the corn, but he did not run far. He tried to catch his breath as he waited and listened for Sullivan.
Once Peter disappeared into the corn stalks, Neal waited for Sullivan to find him. It didn't take long. Sullivan burst through the corn. Seeing Neal, his face was a mask of rage. He searched around, "Where is he?"
Neal remained quiet. It really didn't matter what he said, Sullivan wouldn't believe him. He grimaced when Sullivan grabbed him by his collar and pulled him to stand up. Holding him in front, he wrapped his arm around Neal's neck.
"I know you're in here, Burke!" he shouted. "Show yourself now."
He waited a few seconds before he said, "Fine, we'll do this the fun way." Neal cried out as Sullivan slammed the grip of his gun into his shoulder. "That was a good hit, Burke. Seems to have started bleeding again. Nothing like a con's blood, it's special. Now get your ass here or I'll start carving him up."
He attempted to fire his gun in the air as a warning, he cursed when he heard a click. The gun was empty. He reached into his pocket for the extra clip.
"What the hell is this?" Sullivan pulled out a playing card, it was the queen of hearts.
Neal immediately knew that it was Nolano's calling card. When Nolano was fighting Sullivan, he must have made the switch. "As you said, before, Sullivan. Can this day get any worse? Peter!" Neal shouted. "He's out of ammo!"
Neal gasped in pain as Sullivan slammed his gun into his side. "There are other ways of using a gun," he said with an evil chuckle. Shoving the empty gun in his holster, Sullivan pulled out his knife. "I'm not toothless, still got a bite."
He held the knife's sharp edge close to Neal's neck. "Come out Peter, or I start carving him up. Don't worry, Caffrey," he whispered to Neal, "I'll leave you with one good hand. You'll need that for when you start painting again."
Spying movement to his left, Neal started shouting, "Peter, stay back. Don't trust him, he…" he gasped as he felt the sting of the blade on his neck.
"Shut up, Caffrey. Killing you is starting to look really good right now. I'm going to…" Sullivan screamed when he felt something sharp stab him in the back. He released his hold on Neal and pushed him away. Neal stumbled back and fell on the mud. Spinning around Sullivan saw Peter holding a jackknife in his hands.
"Now this is getting good," Sullivan said. He wiped the water from his face. He held a large knife in his hands. "Always wondered if I could take you. I'm sick and tired of hearing Kramer talking about you, the wonder boy he let go. Let's go, Burke. Let's see what you can do with that pea shooter."
Peter tightly gripped the small jackknife. Sullivan was old school, an alley fighter. He would use every dirty trick in the book against him. The advantages Peter had on him was that he was younger, stronger and in better shape. He hoped that it would be enough.
