Chapter Twelve

Learning that the two men in the car with him had been the ones who had taken Peter had taken Neal momentarily off guard. He had at first been stunned and then angry; the memory of Elizabeth sobbing in his arms on the street in Paris coming vividly to his mind. But he had forced himself to take a breath; to distance his mind from that memory. It was time for a practical application of what he'd been working on for two years; not allowing his emotional response to outweigh good sense. He would not let emotions cause him to rush into hasty actions. The meeting was still hours away; there was time to think through the options.

Eduardo's unexpected disclosure had answered more than one question. It also settled the one that had just arisen in Neal's mind; who actually employed the men. He had assumed from the beginning that they worked Cordero and Eduardo had seemed to substantiate that belief during their initial conversation. As they had continued to talk, he had seemed forthcoming; Neal had credited it to his success in convincing the man he was no threat. That was one reason such a man would disclose details about his criminal activities with an outsider.

But there was another reason as well. That reason was he planned on killing the person at the end of the conversation. Neal hoped his skill at putting people at ease had to lead Eduardo to share and not the fact that the man intended to kill him once they reached the new location. When told to ignore the text, Neal had become concerned that he might have been mistaken about who employed the men; they could just as easily work for the Corvi family and have been sent to intercept him. That, at least, that had been removed from the list of possible complications the evening might present.

Neal hoped that his companion chalked up his lack of conversation during the next few minutes to nervousness about the upcoming meeting. He'd done a good job convincing Eduardo that he was inexperienced and anxious, and he had to admit, he hadn't had to feign apprehension when the location had been changed. That had been mildly alarming. But if the men had indeed saved him from the fate that had befallen the previous couriers, his concerns about the meeting had lessened considerably. Even the later meeting time would work to their advantage; Agent Elliot and his counterparts in Philadelphia would have time to set up at least some surveillance by the time the other's arrived. With the threat of Corvi interference removed, and Agents on site to gather intel, the meeting should be as successful as the one at the warehouse.

He only had one real problem with it; when it was over, the men who kidnapped Peter would be flying off to Bogota. It had been the primary precept that the operation was for information gathering only; any arrests would expose Nathan Clay as a mole. But even if he was willing to forego that, the men hadn't actually confessed to the crime. Peter had never seen his attackers and his statement had said as much. There were no witnesses and no physical evidence to tie them to the crime. With 56.5 million visitors a year, the fact that they had been in New York at the time of the kidnapping meant nothing. In the hands of a high caliber attorney, an extraction could have referred to a dental procedure.

Peter had said he'd be listening; his blood pressure had probably shot through the roof when Eduardo made reference to his previous visit to New York. To say Peter was personally invested in the Cordero case was an understatement; he was obsessed and had been ever since his return. It was a matter of pride. It was a good thing Peter was in New York, and his kidnappers were in Philadelphia, but even so, Neal guessed that the other Agents had their hands full trying to keep him contained.

He used the time to think; to reassess the situation. He'd love to figure out a way to give Peter what he wanted most, without blowing the operation or signing his own death warrant. How to do that without revealing his duplicity was quite a challenge. He had died once already and wasn't keen on doing it again. So far, other than a couple of moments of uncertainty, the afternoon had been predictable. He'd told Peter it was a simple job, and it had been just that. Simple and dull. But the new information added an element he hadn't foreseen. Suddenly, much more seemed at stake.

"It's 6:45," he said after several minutes of silence. "So if I'd gone to the meeting place I was told to go to, I'd be dead right now?"

"Probably not yet. They did not die quickly, Señor Clay," Eduardo corrected solemnly. "I thought you knew what happened to them."

"I knew they were killed, but I wasn't given any details." He held up his hand when Eduardo started to speak, "and I don't want any. I agreed to do this because the pay was too good to pass up and it was a one-time thing."

"The pay is so good because no one else would take the job," He explained in amusement. "Let's just say the killings sent a clear message; anyone coming into their territory would pay a very high price."

"The others," Neal began, "Did they get a text like me or were they verbally told where the meeting was supposed to take place?

"They were also sent a text," Eduardo told him. "That has been the standard way the meets are set. But when they arrived, they were brutalized and killed. The first time, it was believed to have just been bad timing. These things happen." Brutalized and killed. The man spoke as if it was only a minor inconvenience. It was, after all, a violent business. "But when it happened a second time, it was clear there was a real problem."

"How could anyone know when and where the meetings were even being held?" Neal questioned.

"That is the problem we were sent to solve, Señor Clay," Eduardo explained. "It became clear that someone high in our organization was providing the meeting information to the Corvi family; our enemies. We were called to find out who that person was."

That cleared up exactly what problem the four-man team had been sent to solve; to find someone in the organization who had changed allegiance.

"And have you?"

"We will have that information very soon," he said. "We have used a variety of methods to narrow down our search, and this delivery has been orchestrated to provide the last piece of information."

"So this has been part of a trap to catch the traitor?" Neal wasn't sure he understood how their plan was supposed to work.

"To catch the men who can identify the traitor," Eduardo clarified. " Matías and I were to bring you here safely; other members of our team are to deal with those who were sent to intercept you. You see, those men set a trap but fell into it themselves; we will have the name of the person responsible soon. It usually does not take long once the questioning process has begun."

Neal's primary purpose for conversation was to gather information. However, like the details of how the other couriers had met their end, Neal didn't want to know details about the questioning process Eduardo had referred to. Neal hoped everything was coming across loud and clear to Agent Elliot and those monitoring the transmissions. From the sound of it, this meeting wasn't the only thing on the agenda for the evening. "What happens when you get the name you are looking for?"

"We send a message of our own."

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Neal pulled up at the Lucian Gallery about twenty minutes later. He knew the area and the gallery; he had used the space himself the week before. Cordero had procured it for him to handle some very specific, and lucrative, business transactions.

After he had pulled up to the curb, the ever silent Matías exited the car. Eduardo indicated that they were to wait until he made sure the building was secure. As they had entered the block, Neal had looked for a sign of a surveillance team. Agent Elliot would probably arrive about the same time he did, but depending upon their pre-set locations, the Philadelphia team may have made it here before their arrival. The choice of location was fortunate. In the art district, there were several restaurants in the general area; vehicles of patrons lined the streets. One van, with a florist shop logo on the side, caught his eye. He wondered how many agents were cramped inside it and smiled at the memory. He missed a lot of things about working with Peter Burke and the FBI, but the time in the van was not one of them.

After a few moments, Mathas exited the building and joined them again at the car, indicating to Eduardo that the building was clear. He instructed Neal to open the trunk and then removed the bag with the emblazoned logo for the Museum of Fine Art. Neal followed Eduardo into the building, and Matías followed behind them. Once they had made their way into the Gallery lobby, the heavy glass doors closing behind them, Matías handed the bag to Eduardo and approached Neal. The man had a good four inches and fifty pounds on him, and if he was intent to do harm there was little Neal could do to defend himself. He felt his heart rate increase as the man loomed near.

"I apologize." The accent was as heavy as Eduardo's, and there was no hint of regret in his voice in spite of his choice of words. "I must ask that you give me the phone you were given, as well as any other you might have."

"This is the only one I have," Neal knew his relief was evident in his tone. Handing over the phone was not near as bad as what he had been able to imagine in mere seconds. Just the brief conversation with Agent Elliot had given him some indication of what kind of men he was dealing with and what they were capable of.

"I must also check for weapons. Hold out your arms, please." Deadly, no doubt, but polite none the less.

Neal complied, eyebrows raised, but his look did not prompt the man to provide enlightenment. Eduardo had seemed more than willing to engage in conversation, but Matías was all business. He was frisked quickly and efficiently, then given an additional request.

"I also need to see the contents of your pockets." Neal obediently handed over the contents of his pockets. Car keys and his wallet was all he had carried; after a quick examination, they were both handed back to him. His task finished, Matías stepped back and addressed him again.

"We are expecting a call and will be joined by others within the hour; perhaps you could take the next few moment to view the exhibit in Gallery A while we tend to our business." It wasn't a question; unlike Eduardo, Matías had no intentions of discussing business in front of him. "Please stay within our line of sight, Señor Clay, I do not wish to come looking for you."

Nor did Neal want the man to come looking for him. During the drive, Eduardo had seemed to hold the role of the one in charge. Now, however, Neal doubted that had ever been the case. He had simply been the vocal one.

"I would love to look at the exhibit." His lie was convincing. The fact was he'd already seen it and it wasn't impressive the first time. He stepped into the gallery, allowing the heavy glass doors to close quietly behind him. Matías wanted privacy, but that worked both ways. With his back to the men, Neal proceeded to cross the space to the artwork on the opposite wall.

Raising his hand to run his hand through his hair, he spoke quietly.

"Everything's fine, just waiting on the guests to arrive," He said, "I guess you know these are the guys who kidnapped Agent Burke." He studied the art in front him a moment, then turned to move to the right. He used the opportunity to glance through the glass partition. Eduardo and, Matías still involved in their own conversation, weren't even looking in his direction. Again he turned his back to the men, pretending to study yet another painting.

"I'd hoped to get Eduardo to say more once we got here, but that's not likely to happen. But you might can pull them in for something else; there's more going on than just this exchange. Put someone on them after they leave here; I think they plan to kill whoever they determine has betrayed the organization before they leave tonight. If you can catch them in the act, you'll have them for attempted murder."

"Señor Clay," Eduardo's voice caught him by surprise, causing him to jump in spite of himself. He turned; the door was still closing. Eduardo had only just stepped into the gallery. Neal relaxed; the man hadn't heard his discourse. "Please, would you join us? El Rey has arrived; he says he has heard a great deal about you and has been looking forward to meeting you in person."

El Rey had arrived? El Rey meant The King and Eduardo certainly spoke the name with the respect due to a superior. There was also a hint of curiosity in the man's voice. Neal had portrayed himself as someone of no real importance; El Rey's having heard of him had probably challenged that perception.

"Of course," Neal said politely, "I'd be honored to meet," he paused, "El Rey?" He knew what the term meant but hoped Eduardo would stay true to form and elaborate. Any information as to who the man was and what position he held would be helpful. This operation might lead to more than the supply lines of the Cordero organization. If his name was any indication, El Rey was at the top of the food chain.

"Yes, he has driven down from New York for tonight's events." Eduardo didn't disappoint. "He bought us here to find the source of the problem, and now that we have, he wants to be here to resolve it personally."

"He brought you here?" Did that mean he was the one who had brought them here before; the one who had ordered Peter's kidnapping?

"He brought you here as well, Señor Clay, " Eduardo informed him. "He is called El Rey for a very good reason, here in the States, he is the King."

"I'm sorry to say I've never heard of him," Neal said as Eduardo pulled open the glass doorway. "So how has he heard of me?"

"Apparently Alberto Cordero is very fond of you, Señor Clay."