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Chapter Eleven

"Get ready to move."

Elliot's voice across the radio was tense; two men approaching Neal at the warehouse had not been anticipated. All parties had known the Philadelphia leg of the journey would be the most dangerous; The Corvi and Cordero families were revving up for war, and there would be no time to set pre-meet surveillance. It was also highly probable that a move to intercept the delivery at some point might occur; they just hadn't expected it to take place here. But if that was what this was, they were in a much better position to keep Neal safe. Not sure of who the men were or what level of threat they presented, both Peter and Agent Singleton held their breath. Agent Elliott was ready to move if Neal gave the signal.

"I apologize," the man answered Neal's complaint politely. "Perhaps introductions will help lessen your apprehension. I am Eduardo, and my associate is Matías."

"Everyone, just hold positions," Elliot said. "Let's see what this is."

The introduction didn't lessen Peter's apprehension nor had it erased what Peter guessed was a look of, at the very least, mild alarm on Neal's face. The man's words confirmed Peter's interpretation of the scene in the car.

"Relax, Señor Clay," the man urged. "We are here to keep you safe. We have orders to accompany you to Philadelphia."

There was a slight paused before Neal responded. "I've seen you before; you've been following me for three days. Why the sudden need to crowd me?"

Neal's words brought relief to those who were listening; Peter felt his shoulders drop, and there was an audible sigh from Agent Singleton.

"He's good; stand down." Elliot's voice, too, indicated his relief.

The view from the pole camera hadn't given any clear image of the men, and their vehicle had not been in sight, but Neal had now identified them. They were the same men who had been following him; what they had assumed was Cordero's ordered protection detail. Of course, they had learned the men filled other roles as well, so Eduardo's statement of intent was a welcome confirmation. It was understandable why men had chosen to stick closer with the venue changing from New York to Philadelphia. The past two shipments had not made it and those delivering hadn't lived to tell why. The men may part of a team sent to clean up the Philadelphia mess, but if their job was to keep Neal safe in the process, Peter was glad they were here.

"You've been aware of that, have you?" the man chuckled, "I suspected as much. Did you really have business at three dozen galleries in two days or was that for our benefit?"

Peter heard the sound of the engine as Neal started the car. He could almost visualize the look on Neal's face by the tone of his voice.

"I am an art dealer," He replied. "Plus one should never pass up an opportunity to enrich their cultural experience. I did notice that you stopped coming inside; that's too bad. I think you would have enjoyed the Jackson Pollock exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art."

"I guess we know why he chose a Midtown gallery for the meeting," Elliot commented, "He wore them down with art exposure so they wouldn't follow him in."

Agent Singleton looked at Peter in amusement. "Good plan."

If only they knew, Peter thought. "He's been known to have a few."

"Perhaps another time, Señor Clay," Eduardo was saying, "This visit has been all business; there are serious problems we have been sent to rectify."

"Problems to rectify?" Neal sounded a bit nervous, probably hoping he didn't fall into that category. "And I thought you were here to protect me, or rather," he clarified with a laugh, "my cargo."

Neal had been briefed about Eduardo and his team and knew they had been sent to the States for more than protection detail; he was fishing for additional information. They had most likely been deployed to deal with some aspect of the Cordero-Corvi situation, but specifics would be helpful. Especially since Philadelphia was their current destination.

"The transmission may cut in and out once we get mobile," Elliot informed. "We'll stay close, but close enough to catch every word will be tricky. We will do the best we can."

"Problem solving is our specialty, and we are the best there is," Eduardo was saying, his confidence sure. "Our current assignment has been to find a solution to the problem in Philadelphia; ensuring the delivery of your cargo is part of that process."

"Well, I glad of that," Neal admitted. He hesitated before continuing. "I've been worried about this part of the job. I was told what happened to the others."

Singleton sent a questioning look in Peter's direction. Nothing had indicated thus far that Nathan Clay was in the least bit worried about anything. In fact, it had been quite the opposite. The shift in his tone, and his attitude, surprised Singleton. But not Peter.

Given enough time, Neal could make most people comfortable enough to lower their guard and open up. In the past, he had used that skill for financial gain. He had persuaded people to share information that would have been best kept to themselves such as security codes and bank account numbers. His tactics were varied; he picked the ruse most likely to work on any given subject.

Quickly having assessed Eduardo, Neal had determined the best way to put the man at ease. Assuming the role of an uncertain courier, grateful for protection, would only inflate Eduardo's already overblown ego. Egotistical people often bragged about their exploits, betraying confidences and confessing to crimes they otherwise would have walked away from. It was a game that no one played better than Neal Caffrey. Or, in this case, Nathan Clay. It was a long way to Philadelphia; if anyone could get information out of these men, it would be him.

"There is no need to worry, Señor Clay," Eduardo reassured him, rising to the role of protector. "You will not share their fate. It's been a complicated process of elimination, but we are quickly moving towards a resolution to the problem."

Peter wasn't the only one who had picked up on what Neal was doing; Elliot was no fool and recognized talent when he saw it. Or, in this case, heard it.

"He's got him talking," Elliot observed.

Singleton shook his head in disbelief. "You said he was good."

"He's the best I've ever seen," Peter reiterated. "He's like a chameleon; he adjusts to become whatever the situation requires."

"How quickly?" Neal asked. "As much as I appreciate your coming along to keep me out of trouble, I don't want to be around for the rectifying part." He laughed nervously. "This isn't my thing, you know. I hate violence." The authenticity of his words rang true and for good reason.

"Then you should reevaluate your choices in the future," Eduardo suggested. "This is a violent business. We expect to finish our business here soon; we fly back to Bogota tonight."

"A text has just been sent to Clay's phone," Elliot said. "324 E. Lawrence Street. 6:45 p.m. Converge and set up coverage. Trace that address and tell me what's there."

"Tonight, that is quick," Neal said. A moment later he spoke again. "I have the place and time of the meeting; Lawrence Street 6:45 p.m."

"You can disregard that message, Señor Clay," Eduardo stated, "We will be meeting at 35 North 23rd Street instead. I will provide directions."

"Hold on that," Elliot belayed. "There may be a change.'

"I don't understand," Peter could hear an element of concern in Neal's voice. The presence of the men, supposedly to see the shipment through to its destination, had instilled some degree of security, but now that security was questionable. He imagined playing the role of the uncertain courier was taking less acting at this point. "I was instructed to go to the location that was sent to me on this phone."

"And if you did that, you would meet the same fate as those you were told about."

"So you say," Neal sounded doubtful. "When I took this job my instructions were clear; to deliver my cargo to the address I was given via this phone. Now you are changing the location?" Neal allowed fear to creep into his voice. "How do I know you're not the ones who've been hijacking the shipments all along?"

"I understand your dilemma but regardless of your misgivings, I must insist that you proceed to the new location."

Having stated his objections, Neal had no choice in the matter. "Is the meeting time the same?"

"It's been moved it to 8:30 p.m.," Eduardo supplied. "We still have some loose ends to tie up before we conclude our business."

"That's two hours. What do we do between now and then, sightsee?" The sarcasm hinted irritation but Peter doubted Neal was as displeased as his voice indicated. The concern the change in venue stirred was partially offset by the fact that the change in time provided more opportunity for Elliot to get back up in place. It was a small consolation.

"The meeting will be in an Art Gallery," Eduardo informed him. "It's closed for an installation, but they have a permanent collection you might find interesting. After all, what is it you say? One should never pass up an opportunity to enrich their cultural experience." He seemed amused to have turned the phrase back on its originator.

"I always welcome the chance to peruse a good collection," Neal paused before repeating the address slowly. "35 North 23rd Street. I know where that is. I won't need directions."

"You are acquainted with it?" The man seemed mildly surprised. "Have you been there before?"

Peter guessed it was one of the galleries Nathan Clay had visited during his time in Philadelphia. Exactly what his business had been there remained a mystery. Whatever his it was, it must not have put him into direct contact with Eduardo and his henchmen.

"It's on the market," Neal explained. "I was thinking about buying it." Neal had only half answered the question.

"You are thinking about relocating to the states?"

There was no reason for Neal to answer truthfully but no reason to lie, either. In such situations, he usually stuck with the truth. Peter felt himself grow curious as to what answer he would give to the question.

"I'm considering it," He admitted. "But there's a lot to think through in a move this big." That sounded to Peter like the truth.

"Life changes can be difficult and must not be taken lightly," the man agreed. "A wrong choice can have unfortunate consequences."

"But the right one can provide great opportunity," Neal countered. "The gallery's current owner has fallen on hard times," he explained, "it's not closed for an installation; it's closed because he doesn't have the capital to reopen. I could get his entire business for an excellent price."

Neal's contemplation on his business plan was interrupted during the next several minutes as the transmission became spotty and those listening were only able to pick up a few words at a time. It was fortunate that the signal had held out until after the change of venue; had that conversation occurred during the blackout, the movements of Neal and his escorts would have been quite confusing.

It was still troubling to be cut off in this way; other changes could be made and valuable information exchanged and they would have no way of knowing what it was. Finally, the signal picked up strength. When more than three words at a time began to come through, it was clear the topic of conversation had shifted from business to pleasure. He hoped the nervous rambling was just Neal staying in character, but he was sure he was pulling from some real feelings of apprehension to sell the role.

"…an expansive arts and culture scene and the most dramatic skyline of any city I've ever visited," Neal was saying, "To an artist, the Midtown Manhattan skyline, with the spires of the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings, is inspiring. Had you been to the city before this trip?"

"I've been to New York twice; for business," Eduardo volunteered, "but I've not spent enough time to be captivated by it like you clearly are."

"Captivated?" Neal seemed to find the word amusing. "I don't know about that, but it doesn't take long to feel at home there. Someone once said that a person belongs to New York instantly, as much in five minutes as in five years. When were you there last time?"

"About five months ago," Eduardo supplied, "but that trip was even shorter than this one."

Peter felt his heart rate increase slightly. Five months ago he had been snatched from a parking garage. The momentary pause before Neal replied make Peter wonder if he, too, had recognized the time frame of Eduardo's last visit. It was Neal; of course he had.

"More problem-solving I take it?" Just polite conversation, but Peter picked up on the change of tone.

"Yes," Eduardo confirmed, "We performed an extraction to provide the leverage needed in a negotiation."

An Extraction. With that word Peter knew that the man talking with Neal was one of those who had taken him. Before, when the men were unknown and unidentified, he had faced the real possibility that he would never find those responsible. But all that now changed; the same men sent to clean up the problems in Philadelphia had been sent to kidnap him. Peter's heart was now pounding.

"You mean you were there to kidnap someone?" Neal's tone was now sharp; Peter guessed that his heart wasn't the only one that had increased its pace.

From the beginning of his conversation with Eduardo, Neal had portrayed himself as unassuming and timid; as someone clearly out of his element. This persona had led Eduardo into revealing details he might otherwise have kept to himself. But with the realization that these men had been responsible for Peter's kidnapping, there was a change.

Eduardo neither confirmed nor denied. "We do what we are ordered to do," he stated firmly. "Our job was a simple one, and we executed it perfectly." There was a hint of irritation in his voice. "However, the negotiations later fell apart."

Peter felt his face flush with anger; A simple one, the man had said. Simple to ambush and drug him. Simple to smuggle him into a foreign country and hold him prisoner for weeks. Simple to separate him from his family, put him through hell and terrify his wife. Elizabeth still had nightmares; so did he, but he didn't talk about them.

"Agent Burke?" Singleton's voice snapped him from his thoughts. The man was looking at him in concern. Momentarily distracted, he didn't know how much time had passed as he sat there, clenching his fists and reliving his weeks in that small room. Elliot's voice was coming through the radio; he had missed the first part of the conversation.

"…launch an investigation into these men and their movements five months ago," He was saying. "But right now, we have to keep our focus on the job at hand; we can't let personal feelings interfere with the current operation."

Agent Elliot had apparently come to the same conclusion about the kidnapper's identities and was concerned about how Peter might react. What did he expect, Peter wondered? For him to jump in his car and go after the men himself? It wasn't like the thought hadn't crossed his mind, but it was hardly practical.

The Agent in him knew that Elliot was right; they had to see the operation through and investigate the men afterward. But the man in him had a hard time with the knowledge that his kidnappers would be flying to Bogota later tonight, free and clear from prosecution in spite of what any later investigation turned up.

"I know that," Peter's frustration came through in spite of his effort to reel it in. "And even if I wanted to interfere, I can hardly do it from here."

"That can happen," Neal was speaking again. "Sometimes even the simplest jobs can come back to haunt us." His voice was calm, and his statement held conviction.

"I don't think it's you he's worried about, Agent Burke," Singleton remarked.