I've a question to ask; are long, less frequent chapters preferred over shorter, more often ones? Just curious as to the general feeling out there. This chapter is very long and was hard to write; hope everyone likes it well enough. Thanks to all who are reading my story.

Chapter Thirteen

Eduardo held open the door for Neal, and both men returned to the gallery lobby. Matías was not present, but three other men were. Even without introductions, Neal was instantly aware which of the men was El Rey. In spite of his nickname, he did not appear to be South American. In his mid-to-late fifties, he was slight of build and took pride in his appearance. Not only did he appear to be in excellent physical condition, but he was impeccably dressed and carried himself with an air of confidence that was unmistakable. Even though he did not appear as physically intimidating as did the other men, there was something about him that indicated he was the most dangerous man in the room. His eyes were cold and when he spoke his voice was quiet; He was accustomed to being heard.

"Mr. Clay," He stepped forward and extended a hand. "I'm glad to put a face to the name. I am called El Rey," The man's shrug was slight. "It's a term of respect."

"El Rey," Neal was careful to reciprocate the firmness of the shake. It had benefited him to be seen as an inferior by Eduardo; it did not seem wise to choose that course with this man. He kept both his tone and his smile reserved. "I see my reputation precedes me. I'm pleased to meet you as well." He glanced in question at the two new faces in case more introductions were coming; they were not. El Rey held his gaze several seconds with what appeared to be a look of mild curiosity before he returned Neal's token smile with one of his own.

"Please," El Rey motioned towards the gallery Neal had just exited, "We have some time before the others arrive. I'd would love your thoughts on the current exhibit. I haven't had an opportunity to view it; I don't get to Philadelphia very often." He looked at the men beside him. "Eduardo, you join us. I understand you to have an interest in art as well."

"Of course," Eduardo replied to what was clearly an order, "I would be very pleased to join you."

It was possible that El Rey had some interest in art, but Neal had spent two hours with Eduardo and hadn't picked up any indication that he had an interest in anything but his current assignment. Whatever the purpose of the walkthrough might be, Neal was certain it had nothing to do with the art on display in the gallery. El Rey wanted a personal assessment of Nathan Clay; he wasn't going to rely on the impressions of others. It was also possible he had heard conflicting opinions and wanted to form his own. But why it mattered at this late date in their arrangement was unclear. His business with the Cordero organization was all but wrapped up.

El Rey couldn't have risen to the position he held without the ability to manipulate and to do that one had to be able to read people. It was something Neal was well acquainted with. For that reason, he recognized what El Rey was doing. One way to lure a person into dropping pretense was to put them in a situation where they were at ease and confident. It was a variation of the tactic he had taken with Eduardo. Knowing the underlying purpose of the tour, Neal knew what he had to do.

"I would be glad to take you for a tour," He flashed a smile to illustrate his pleasure at the request and pushed open the door to the gallery. He stood there, waiting for both men to enter, stepping easily into the role of tour guide. After they had entered, he began his discourse. "It is a unique collection-" he had to fabricate some passion to convince El Rey he was seeing the real Nathan Clay "-assembled because of the common use of bold color and brush strokes and not by artist, theme or subject matter."

As a gallery owner, Nathan Clay was a good salesperson. He was particular about what art he chose to sell in his gallery, so his pitch came easily. There was the occasion when he was offered an exorbitant fee to move a painting that didn't appeal to him in the least. When that situation occurred, he became an exceptional salesperson. The trick was to find something in the piece that inspired interest. Sometimes it was in the work itself, sometimes the medium or the story behind the chosen subject. Other times it was simply the artist that made the piece saleable. There was always something he could hang his hat on, so to speak.

The designer of the Lucian Gallery Exhibit had cited the Fauves Exhibit at the Salon d'Automne as a source of inspiration for the premise of the collection. Even though not one piece of the exhibit came close to a Matisse, it, at least, gave him an interesting topic from which to launch. After all, when the Fauves had appeared on the art scene, they had been less than well received.

Nathan Clay had been exclusively working in the Art world for two years, and it only took moments to fall into the familiar routine. He loved art and during the past years had been able to immerse himself completely in it. A quarter of the way around the exhibit he felt he had some grasp what the designer had in mind with the chosen pieces. The interaction was a vital part of any exhibition tour, and he usually had no problem facilitating discussion. He took every opportunity to engage his audience, but with very limited success. Eduardo tried to engage, likely because he felt that was the role El Rey had brought him along to play. He even asked a couple of surprisingly insightful questions. But El Rey was clearly using the opportunity to study the guide and not the art; a less confident person would have found the attention distracting. Finally, the tour had come to an end.

"Interpretation is how we uncover what we think artwork, or a collection of artwork, might mean," Neal explained, "It's important to understand that even if we uncover the creator's intentions, art exists to provoke thought and reflection. Because of that, one single work can mean something different to each person who views it." The three of them were now standing near the entrance. Matías had returned and had joined the two still unnamed men in the lobby. They were seated around what had been the welcome center. Neal finished his script. "Art is uniquely created, and likewise, uniquely understood by the viewer; it is a very personal experience."

"That was very enlightening, Mr. Clay." It was the first time the man had spoken during the entire outing. "Thank you for taking the time to walk through the exhibit with us." El Rey reached out and opened the door, allowing the two men to enter the lobby before him. Once inside, he addressed the room's other occupants. "Mr. Clay and I are going to step into the office to continue our discussion." Neal found that humorous since there was no discussion to continue. He expected one was coming, but he doubted it would be about art. "I expect everything is in place for when our guests arrive?"

"Yes," The man who answered his question was one of the new arrivals. "Everything is ready." He glanced at his watch. "They should be here in about twenty minutes."

Neal looked at his own watch in surprise: what he had thought was a short tour had taken almost an hour.

"Excellent," El Rey motioned to Neal to follow him and the crossed the lobby and entered the office area. They didn't go through into the main office but stopped in what appeared to be a reception area.

El Rey did not close the door, but indicating one chair for Neal, El Rey took a seat in the other. His eyes were fixed on Neal's intently. "Alberto thinks you have great potential in this business. Eduardo, on the other hand, has a very different impression of you."

Just as he had thought; conflicting reports. "I'm like good art; I can be interpreted differently by different people." Neal held El Rey's gaze in a way he doubted many dared. "I'm sure you have come up with your own opinion."

"I have, and I am inclined to agree with Matías; he calls you El Embaucador."

These men and their nicknames. "The Trickster?" Neal's tone was amused.

"I believe you present yourself to others in the way you determine will best serve your purpose." El Rey's tone held no judgment. "Alberto, Matias and I can spot talent and you clearly have it. Eduardo said you were thinking about relocating. Is that true or just the part you were playing?"

Neal now believed the conversation was a prelude to yet another job offer. He could almost imagine Peter rolling his eyes in Agent Singleton's office.

"I'm considering it," He glanced around the office. "In fact, I looked at this very space as a possible location for a new gallery."

"If you did relocate," El Rey continued, "your skills could prove very useful in certain aspects of our business. It could be a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"I like to be useful," Neal replied with a smile. "It improves my bank account as well as my life expectancy."

"That it does, Mr. Clay," El Rey agreed. "I wish everyone possessed such wisdom."

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The conversation ended at the sound of several voices: Neal recognized the irate tones before he could make out the words. The anticipated guest had arrived and were clearly not happy. El Rey stood, and Neal followed suit.

"We will continue this discussion later, Mr. Clay," His tone was not irate but deadly serious. "I now have some unpleasant business to attend to."

After the initial change of venue, Neal had expected the drop to be as uneventful as the first one. However, upon the arrival of El Rey, he knew there was more on the agenda than a simple delivery. He thought it could be a move to reassure his people that he had things in hand. Moral was important in the workforce, regardless of what kind of work they specialized in. His choice of the words unpleasant business, however, called the likelihood of that into question.

Once the newcomers had entered the gallery lobby, their words became distinguishable. El Rey did not exit the room immediately; he let the men continue in their angry remarks. It was clear they did not know he was on the premises or Neal was sure their insolent attitudes would have been checked at the door.

"I don't know what good a meeting is going to do," Came an angry voice. "We've got to do more than talk about this or we might as well pack up and leave."

"More than talking will be done; I assure you." Neal guessed that was the voice of one of the men who had arrived with El Rey. His accent closely matched his other team members. The irate voice, like El Rey's, held no accent.

"This is the third damn time!" Said another man. "We can't do business this way. We lose more distributors, and territory, every time we miss a delivery. People are starting to jump ship, and I can't say I blame them."

El Rey didn't openly react to the men's comments. However there was a slight tightening of his jaw as he listened to the exchange outside the office's open door. The term giving enough rope to hang oneself came to Neal's mind. He actually felt some sympathy for the men in the next room.

"There are some questioning the leadership," A third man joined in. "First Alejandro Diaz gets nabbed on counterfeiting charges-a stupid move-derailing the entire East Coast operations. El Rey thinks he can solve the problem by kidnapping a Federal agent, which only alerts them to Diaz's connection to us and puts us under more scrutiny. Then Cordero gets himself arrested in Venezuela over something as stupid as stolen art." Clearly he was one of those questioning leadership. El Rey stood silent and still, but the comment had elicited another subtle response; Neal saw a muscle twitch in his jaw.

Neal concentrated on controlling his own response to the man's words. If surveillance had picked it up-and there was no reason to believe they hadn't-El Rey had just been identified as the person who ordered Peter's kidnapping. Even more promising, the comment had been made in front of at least seven witnesses; not just him. It removed a pressure that he hadn't realized he felt. Any one of the men in the other room could flip on El Rey once they were in custody.

"There has been poor decision-making at every level," Someone agreed. "and it's undermining everything we've established. We have got to get things under control, or this problem is going to spread. If Corvi is successful in shutting us down here, other will see the weakness and move to exploit it. Either El Rey is in charge, or he's not; and its looking like not."

The noose finally tightened, El Rey took that statement as his cue. Neal had no doubt that soon it would be very clear that he was, in fact, very much in charge. He quickly stepped past Neal and through the doorway. Neal exited behind him, joining the group in the lobby.

El Rey hadn't spoken, but the stricken looks on the faces of the newcomers confirmed Neal's suspicion that they had been unaware of El Rey's presence.

The tone of voice automatically changed from disdain to respect.

"I meant no disrespect, sir," rushed the man who had just spoken, "I was just speaking to my concern about the perception among some of our distributors."

"The perception regarding those in leadership roles?" El Rey's voice was quiet but the tension was palpable. "I admit, I too have some concerns. I feel that changes are needed and I am here to make them. Diego?"

Diego joined the group, as did Eduardo, Matías, and the still unnamed man. The stance they took seemed like that of predators surrounding prey. Diego was holding a small pasteboard box with a fitted top and at a slight nod from El Rey, he stepped forward and presented it to one of the men.

"I don't understand." Neal recognized the voice of the first man that had spoken; the man who had questioned the benefit of the meeting. With a look of confusion, he took the pro-offered box.

Five sets of eyes drilled into the man; four looked on with curiosity. The man swallowed nervously. Then, balancing the box on the palm of one hand, he gently raised the lid.

"What the hell?" His voice rose in panic and the box fell from his hand, spilling its contents on the floor. Neal wasn't the only one to instantly jump back at the sight of several severed hands. He couldn't stand the sight of blood but for what seemed like forever, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the bloody mess on the floor. When he finally looked up, he saw looks of shock and horror on the faces of the three men beside him. No doubt, it was mirrored on his own. The other occupants of the room seemed both unsurprised and unaffected by the carnage.

"I understand it might be hard to recognize without its owner attached, Mr. Mendez," El Rey said calmly, "but one of those belonged to Donovan Marino." He paused, eyes narrowing as he studied the man closely. "Are you familiar with the name?"

"El Rey," That Mendez was able to find his voice was impressive "I don't know what's going on here or what you..."

"Diego was waiting for Corvi's men when they came to intercept the shipment," El Rey explained. "Three were killed during the ensuing confrontation. However, two men were captured alive. They can no longer be described as such. With the proper motivation," his eyes fell to the dismembered hands, "They gave up their source of information, not only this time but the two previous times as well."

"I don't know anything about what Corvi's' men do," Mendez protested, "and I don't know this Marino person. Someone," he lowered his voice and steadied his gaze on El Rey, "has made a big mistake."

"Someone has made a big mistake," El Rey countered. "You. Diego cut the hands off of the men who were sent to steal from us; we will cut off the head of the one who sent them," He paused, a small smile turning the corners of his mouth, "After we shoot him through the heart, of course. There is less mess that way."

Any sense of bravado Mendez had tried to capture drained from him, along with any color left on his face. There was silence in the room as the words sunk in; even the men who had moments before agreed with Mendez's sentiments were now looking at him with suspicion.

Mendez was the traitor Eduardo and his team had been sent to find. That the threat was imminent became clear when Deigo and Matías produced their weapons. Neal knew that the man deemed to be the traitor was scheduled to meet a bad end, but he hadn't expected it to be here, or now. He thought it would be later, after this meeting, and Agent Elliot would be there to make sure the murder didn't actually happen.

"Please," Mendez stepped back slightly, holding his hands up in defense. "I didn't send anyone; I just gave the men the locations." His eyes were desperate as he looked from face to face for assistance, for understanding. "I didn't have a choice; Men came to my house. They threatened to kill my family if I didn't help them."

El Rey showed no sympathy nor did Eduardo or his cohorts. Even Mendez's companions seemed to have none, or if they did, not enough to motivate them to intervene or speak up on his behalf. Neal guessed it was less lack of sympathy and more survival instinct that were in play. In fact, over the course of the exchange, they had managed to shrink away, putting as much space between him and themselves as possible.

"Betrayal cannot be tolerated; no matter what the reason for it." El Rey said quietly.

"Look," Neal spoke up, stepping near the condemned man, "I think we have a misunderstanding. I know you said you had unpleasant business to attend to, but I didn't sign on for this. Can't you take the unpleasantness somewhere else?"

There, he had done it; he had used the phrase that should send reinforcements. It might truncate the supply train here in Philadelphia, but it would net some very big fish; the king of the Cordero organization. With drug possession charges hanging over them, surely one of the men would be willing to give up the kidnappers for a lesser charge.

But even more than all of that, it would save Mendez from being shot in front of him. That was the reason he had made the decision; to save the man's life.

"I realize you prefer the more tidy aspects of the business, Mr. Clay, but let this be a lesson," El Rey replied. "In our organization, this is the penalty for betrayal."

With his statement finished, El Rey gave a brief nod; the go-ahead for murder. Neal saw Deigo's eye narrow slightly, and in that instant, he lunged sideways to push Mendez to the floor.

The shout of "Federal Agents! Don't move!" occurred almost instantaneously with the sound of gunshots. Neal felt a hard blow, knocking the air from his lungs as both he and Mendez tumbled to the floor.