"Any chance Alex and Adler are working together?" Diana asked him as she crossed the busy conference room.
"No," Neal shook his head. "She would never work with him." She knew what kind of person Adler was. Neither was she prone to cooperate with anyone in the first place.
"We can't make any definitive statement about their relationship at this point," Peter said. He was so wrong there, Neal knew, but it was no point in debating. "We find Alex Hunter, we find Vincent Adler. Diana?"
"I ran her aliases by Interpol."
"Checking the local fences?" Jones asked.
"Neal?"
"Already on it." He rose and left. He called Mozzie on the way down in the elevator.
"Of course. I started my research directly after Adler's call," Moz replied. "Not everyone has promised to do it the Suit's way."
"What did you find?"
"No phones." And Mozzie ended the call. Neal sighed and pocketed his phone. He left the building and walked towards his home. He was not surprised when his odd friend turned up beside him.
"All right, did you find anything on Alex?"
"She's moved around a lot. According to Hale, she was in town two weeks ago, trying to pawn off some more silver," Mozzie said. "Through Teddy Eames."
"What's she doing mixed up with Eames?" Neal frowned. "He's a small-time grifter."
"Yeah, one trying to move up in the world."
"Alex is known for her altruism," he said with a huge portion of irony.
"Oh, look, are you really trying to understand Alex at this late date?"
"I've never understood her."
"Oh, really?" Mozzie seemed genuinely surprised. "I thought your relationship made perfect sense. Mutual respect, convenience…"
"Convenience?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong."
Mozzie was more right than he really liked to hear.
"I want to talk to Eames."
"You can want as much as you like. He's not likely talking to you."
"Why not?"
"Oh, come on!" Mozzie said, "everyone knows you're working for the feds, Neal."
"I need to keep working on my other reputation." Everything had a backside. He wanted to be the best con man ever. But people's memory faded quickly.
"No need. You're not likely being knocked out from the schools' textbooks because you work with the feds."
"It's not my reputation among law students that worries me."
"Well, whatever you do, I prefer to have you outside of prison," Mozzie said. "And in your situation, you're more likely to end up there than you used to be."
"Thank you for your concern."
They split, and Neal walked in the direction of Peter's home, stopping by a few fences and other contacts on the way, checking if they heard anything. One confirmed what Mozzie had told him already.
He called Peter and asked if he could come by. As he walked towards his handler's home along the route he was allowed to take, Peter stopped in his car and picked him up.
They sat quietly.
"I guess Elizabeth is not home," Neal said after a while.
"No, why?"
"We talk more work in the car when she's expecting us for dinner."
Peter chuckled.
He parked, and they walked inside.
"I'll get us something to eat," Peter said and disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, Neal heard him chuckle. "There are more people who see patterns," he said. "She's left two dinners in the fridge."
Neal got that warm feeling of a caring family all through his body.
They ate, and Neal told him what he knew. They moved out into the garden, where Peter opened his laptop and keyed in the name.
"You're positive Alex met with him?"
"Definitely," Neal said. "Eames was the last person to see her before she disappeared. He might be able to tell us where she was headed."
"Ooh!" Peter expressed watching the screen. "Larceny, possession, robbery. He's got quite a hefty rap sheet. I can lean on him."
"He's not gonna chat up a fed," Neal smiled. Eames would rather do the extra years than be known as a rat.
"What?" Peter glanced at him. "You gonna scam info out of him?"
That would probably work better.
"Eames likes selling hot merchandise, anything from stolen plasma screens to borrowed jewelry."
"Borrowed jewelry, huh?" Neal first thought that Peter reacted to 'borrowed,' but when he saw the man's grin all over his face, he understood.
"Now that you mention it, we do have that box of faux-lexes," he said, smiling.
"Look, this better work," Mozzie muttered as they walked towards Eames' stand.
"Relax," Neal assured him.
"Look, I'm holding five fake Rolexes. If I get shaken down, I've got a government-stamped barcode on the back of my neck."
"Caffrey," Eames greeted him with a proud smile. "What can I do for you?"
"I hear you're moving up in the world," Neal answered with an encouraging beam. "Usually, I'd bring this business to Alex, but I can't find her."
"Well, I would check the Interpol website. Apparently, she's all over it."
"Okay, are we gonna do this or what?" Mozzie asked, indicating the package in his hand.
"What do you got?"
"High-quality goods." Mozzie brought out one of the watches and demonstrated it. "Micro-etched crystal, correct second-hand movement, last purchaser's credit-card slip."
"How much?"
"Three hundred each," Neal said.
"Two"
"Come on, you'll flip these for at least six."
Eames considered the bling-bling in Mozzie's hand.
"All right. If I sell this one today, I'll buy as many as you got tomorrow."
"Sounds like a square deal," Mozzie agreed and took the money offered, and gave Eames the watch.
"Hey!" Peter yelled from up the sidewalk, showing his badge. "Grab him!" he said to Jones, pointing at Moz.
"Oh, nuts!" Mozzie turned and ran.
"Get back here!" Jones yelled and perused. Neal had to hide a smile as he saw that Jones had to take it slow not to catch up with his target.
"I know a drop when I see one," Peter barked, glaring at Eames. "You mind emptying your pockets?"
"You got probable cause?"
"Yeah, my badge gives me probable cause. Hands on the table."
Eames sighed, turned around, and placed his hands on his stall table. Neal dipped two fingers in the man's pocket and took the watch putting it in his own while he faced Peter.
"What are you doing hassling us? Shouldn't you be arresting stock brokers or something?"
"I'll arrest who I want." He was pushed aside, and Neal watched Peter frisk Eames. When Eames realized he did not have anything to find in his pocket, he sent Neal a glance. Neal nodded.
"All right, your turn," Peter said to Neal and showed Eames away. When they passed each other, the watch switched hands once again. He raised his arms, and Peter frisked him.
"Happy?"
"Yeah. All right, I want you to pack up and get out of here in five minutes. You understand?" Eames nodded. Peter sent Neal a glare and walked away.
"So, I guess I owe you one, is that right?" Eames said when they were alone.
"I'd say so," Neal said. "Tell me about the last time you saw Alex."
Eames looked at him, and sighed.
"You arranged this to get that info, didn't you? Were they even real cops?"
"Feds. And yes, they were real. Figured you wouldn't talk to the feds."
Eames stood with his hands in his pockets, not sure what to believe.
"I suppose I owe you one, no matter how I turn this."
Peter was waiting with Jones and Mozzie a block away. It did not take long until the kid came walking.
"Hey. Eames said Alex was headed to the Conservatory Garden after she met with him."
Peter turned to Jones.
"Jones, check traffic cams for the garden. See if we can spot her."
"You got it," he answered and left. It seemed as if Neal's funny little friend was about to go too.
"Watches," Peter reminded him.
"Oh." And as if he suddenly remembered that he had a velvet package under his arm, he took it and gave it to Peter.
"Money." He held out his hand.
"What money?"
"The three hundred Eames gave you," he clarified, used to that kind of question.
"What three hundred Eames gave me?" Mozzie asked in return.
He did not believe what he had just heard. He turned to Neal for help, but his pet convict just shrugged and shook his head. So he was not going to get that money back. 'Back', by the way. It was not like Peter had ever had them.
He made up his mind.
"Thanks for the help," he said to Mozzie.
"Anytime, Serpico." It was as if the man relaxed that he had gotten away with his little coup.
"Buy Jones lunch."
"We'll see."
Peter and Neal got into the car as they drove towards the office, Jones called.
"Yes, Jones, you're on speaker," Peter answered.
"The tapes show Alex enter the Conservatory Garden through Vanderbilt Gate, but from there, she does not appear on any camera."
"Thanks, Jones. Good work."
Peter drove around the block and drove back towards 5th Avenue, parked, and left the car.
"Security tapes show her arriving and walking into the garden," Peter pointed at the grand gate. "If she came out, it was on a side not covered by a camera. Any idea what she was doing here?"
"Eames wouldn't say. It's a good place for a meeting or a drop."
"Well, retracing her steps may tell us something. You take the left, I'll take the right. We can meet in the middle." Not much else to do.
They walked through the gate and split. The kid walked toward Burnett Fountain, and he walked towards Untermyer Fountain.
When he reached the big open circle with the dancing women in the water, he got a bad feeling. It was too quiet. Too lonely.
He shook it off and walked to the central fountain where they said they would meet. There was nobody there.
"Neal!" he called. "Neal?!" The kid was gone. He brought up his phone and checked Neal's anklet. The kid was by the gate? He jogged back. Neal was not there either.
Then his phone rang.
"Who is this?"
"Hello, Agent Burke. Nice day, isn't it?"
"Adler." His hand found his gun. "Where are you?"
"Holster the gun and get in the car."
Peter looked around. Across him was a black limo with an unknown man waiting outside. The man opened the back door, and there was the kid, looking composed but terrified. Neal gave him a little shake of his head. Peter considered what it might mean and what he should do.
He ended the call and holstered his gun as he crossed the street. Neal scooted over to let him inside. The man outside closed the door.
Inside sat another man pointing a gun at them.
"Hand over your gun, please," a voice that was most likely Adler's was heard over a speaker. He was most likely in the front seat, behind a black wall.
Peter surrendered his gun to the man opposite him.
The wall to the front seats went down, and Adler turned and smiled at them.
"Nice to meet you, Peter."
"Save it," he snapped.
"And Neal. I can't tell you how good it is to see you again."
"I'd be lying if I said the same," the kid answered, ice cold. "You killed Kate."
"No, Neal," Adler objected "You did. You changed her. The Kate I knew would still be alive."
Peter grit his teeth. He got a glimpse of the Adler Neal had worked for, the way he manipulated people.
"Where's Alex?" the kid asked, seemingly not bothered by Adler's accusation.
"You can ask her when you see her."
"What do you want with us?" Peter inquired.
"I want Neal. But I'll bring you along since I can't let you go," Adler made clear. "Peter, you've got a key to Neal's anklet. Give it to him." Peter considered to object but found no point in it. He dug in his pocket and brought it out. He handed it over to the kid. "Neal, take off your anklet." Neal did, and the man with the gun took care of it. "A decision," Adler continued. "In those glasses is a combination of chloral hydrate, ethanol, and iced tea." The man with the gun held out a glass. "It'll put you out until we get where we're going."
"Or?" Neal asked.
"Or you can take another route," Adler said, and the man with the gun made a gesture indicating what would happen. They would be shot.
"We don't do this," Peter said. Adler would not shoot them. Not when he had made such an effort to find Neal.
"Have a drink, Neal. You may wake up to find all the answers you've been looking for."
"We're not playing this game," he hissed to the kid.
To Peter's frustration, Neal took the glass and drank the contents. He made a face at the taste.
"Your turn, agent Burke," Adler said, glaring at him. He had no chance to get them out now when Neal had drunk. And it was Neal he wanted, not Peter. Peter took the glass and drank. As he did, the wall to the front seat went up.
Peter's last thought before he fell asleep was that he had to get that key back from Neal.