Peter watched the kid climb down the ladder into the belly of the sub in the light of Peter's tiny flashlight.
"Tools," he said, handing him a bag when he reached the bottom. He climbed down after Neal to the lights of an electrical lantern that had been in the bag.
"Two doors," the kid said.
"That one goes to the bow. The lion part of the sub it that way."
They exchanged a look, and Peter turned the wheel to open the door to the main part. It swung open, and he stepped inside, shining into the darkness with his flashlight.
"If I see jars of fetuses with little black mustaches, I'm turning around."
"I don't think this is the one carrying the Hitler clones," his pet convict said behind him. "Here, watch for trip wires."
Their flashlights shone on wooden crates stamped with the symbol of the Third Rich, the old sun symbol that forever would be connected with Hitler. And it all seemed to have been kept dry all these years, against every odds.
Eagerly Neal passed him and placed the lantern on a crate.
"Give me a hand."
They took out their crowbars and worked the crate open. It fell open. Peter stared at a painting of a child.
"Yeah. It's a Van Dyke," the kid said. "It's got to be worth millions."
Neal bent open another crate.
"Look at this!" He was like a kid on Christmas.
"It's Nazi plunder," Peter said. Taken from people they thought were not even human. "From all over Europe." He did not like the idea of from where it all came. I liked it even less that it would go to another villain. He opened another crate. "Whoa. Priam's treasure. Before it turned out to be Troy's treasure."
"Either way, it's here now," the kid grinned at him.
"This has got to be worth—"
"Billions. Billions of dollars. This has to be one of the greatest collections of art that's ever been found."
Too much money. Too much for anyone! They were in a sub, and even though they opened the crates, they had not found the greatest collection of art that had ever been found. Adler had.
"How do we get out of here?" he hissed to Neal.
"Adler, you seeing this? Not anymore." He yanked the headset off, busted the mic, and threw it away.
"That bought us some time. You got an idea?"
It took the kid only a breath to get focused.
"Adler could've only found this sub if the antenna was still working."
"Mozzie's antenna." But now they needed to be found and would not be in this sub for long.
"Obviously, Adler got his to work. I'll check over here."
"All right," Peter nodded; let's check if they could find the transmitter. "Careful. That nitro's unstable." There were packs of TNT a little all over the place.
Peter scanned the sub in the other direction. There was a metal box on the wall with a familiar image.
"That looks like our fractal." It was. "Bingo."
He flung the box open as Neal joined him.
"Germans built things to last."
Peter yanked out the transmitter and handed it to the kid.
"You think Mozzie can find us?" he asked.
"If we can get back to the limo, I can connect it to a power source."
"In the limo?"
"There was a small fridge."
"It's a long shot."
They heard steps down the ladder. Neal hid the transmitter on him.
"Well done, gentlemen," Adler declared as he passed into the chamber. He seemed to work hard not to show his enthusiasm, but he did not make it. His face split into a wild grin. He held a few of the pieces of jewelry in his hand. "A treasure for the ages. I'm glad you lived long enough to see it." As he spoke, a few goons followed, and they brought Alex along. He glanced into the crate Peter opened. "My God, that's a Rembrandt." He looked at Peter and Neal and dropped the jewelry back. "We'll take it from here. You three are going for a ride."
"No," Alex protested. "I'm not going back in that limo." She began a pointless fight.
"Alex!" the kid called out.
"Go ahead, Vincent. Shoot us," Alex said. Peter sighed.
"Okay," Adler said. "Shoot them. Then get a mop or something." He turned and left as the goons raised their guns.
"Hold on," Peter said. "Okay. We'll get in the limo."
"There you go. There's a reasonable man. Get the drinks ready."
They were guided up the ladder and down the way they came. The limo was waiting on the floor beside the sub. The kid moved a little faster, getting first in line to enter. He was frisked, and Peter feared they would find the transmitter, but they must have done a sloppy job. Not that Peter complained. Alex seemed puzzled about Neal's eagerness to be first, but it was as if crooks and thieves spoke another language because she once again made resistance, as if she made a move to escape.
A gun up her face made her freeze and look terrified. Peter knew Alex was not easily frightened. Then she, too, moved inside the limo.
Peter slowed down his steps, looking towards the gate. The goons made sure he knew where to go. He paused beside the door, wishing he had something plausible to say to stall just a little bit.
He slid inside just in time to see Neal do the last of whatever he had done and lean back. Now, all they could do is trust a strange and annoying guy with an antenna they never got a chance to prove it worked.
"It's a Van Dyke," Neal said. "It's got to be worth millions." Had he just found a lost painting? A real painting? He moved to another crate. "Look at this!" Yes, it was not his in any way, but he was standing in the middle of his biggest and grandest dream.
"It's Nazi plunder," Peter said. "From all over Europe." Neal nodded absently. He knew what it was. It was a myth coming true. "Whoa. Priam's treasure. Before it turned out to be Troy's treasure."
"Either way, it's here now," Neal smiled.
"This has got to be worth—"
"Billions. Billions of dollars. This has to be one of the greatest collections of art that's ever been found." And he and Peter were part of it.
"How do we get out of here?" Peter hissed.
A treasure, alright, but he would soon die if they did not do something.
"Adler, you seeing this?" He did not wait for a reply from some speaker outside the sub. "Not anymore." He yanked the headset off, busted the microphone, and threw it away.
"That bought us some time," Peter nodded. "You got an idea?"
They would soon leave. And he had no anklet. So they could not be tracked. Unless…
"Adler could've only found this sub if the antenna was still working."
"Mozzie's antenna." Peter got the picture it seemed.
"Obviously, Adler got his to work." He did not want to think about what would happen if Mozzie's antenna did not. Better spend the time to do what could be done. "I'll check over here."
"All right," Peter said. "Careful. That nitro's unstable."
Neal checked the instruments and boxes on the wall at the end of the room when Peter said "Bingo" from his end.
He hurried over and reminded himself of the TNT.
"Germans built things to last."
Peter pulled out a small box from the rest and handed it to him.
"You think Mozzie can find us?"
Neal looked at the item. It looked like all it needed was power. He hoped 12V would be enough.
"If we can get back to the limo, I can connect it to a power source."
"In the limo?"
"There was a small fridge."
"It's a long shot."
Neal jammed the gizmo down in his pants when he heard steps.
"Well done, gentlemen," Vincent said. "A treasure for the ages. I'm glad you lived long enough to see it." Alex appeared with a goon, and Neal felt his pulse rise. Why had he taken her down here? To show her the art or to kill them among it? "My God, that's a Rembrandt. We'll take it from here. You three are going for a ride."
"No," Alex protested. "I'm not going back in that limo."
Neal knew her well enough to know she had a reason to protest and start a fight, but he could not figure out why.
"Alex!" He found no other way to tell her that they had a plan.
"Go ahead, Vincent. Shoot us," Alex spat. That was pushing it too far.
"Okay," Adler said. "Shoot them. Then get a mop or something." He turned and left as the goons raised their guns.
"Hold on," Peter said, and Vincent looked back. "Okay. We'll get in the limo."
"There you go. There's a reasonable man. Get the drinks ready."
Neal ensured he got into the limo first and hoped there would be enough time. He found the chord he was looking for and yanked it free from the fridge. He fished out the transmitter from the front of his pants. The two ends found his little gizmo's two ends, and he twisted them together.
Alex entered the Limo and glanced at what he was doing.
Now he needed to hide it. He was done just in time for Peter to enter the car.
Neal woke up, staring at Alex.
They were lying on the ground, zip-tied with their hands behind their backs. Their feet were zip-tied too. It rattled by metal when he moved. He looked down and saw a chain from the zip to a block of concrete.
"Everyone all right?" Peter asked on Alex's other side.
"For the moment," Alex said. "Where are we?"
"In a dry dock." And he was sure why.
"What are those guys doing?" Alex asked when the goons who had just left them there walked up the stairs and turned a wheel.
At the dry dock's other end, which probably had the Hudson river on the other side, hatches opened, and water began to flow in two steady streams. It could take hours for them to drown.
"I got a pretty good idea," Neal said. "Adler's taking the whole arch-villain thing pretty seriously. He always had a flair for the theatrical."
"Where's the cavalry, Neal?"
"Moz will be here. I hope." But they had to figure something out just in case. The goons must have found the show boring and left.
"We need to find a way out of these zip ties," Peter said.
"I've got a knife," Alex said, and Neal grinned.
"Can't say I'm surprised."
"The guards searched us," Peter protested.
"Not everywhere." She nodded towards her decolletage. "Just like old times."
If Neal was going to die, he sure did not mind doing it with his head down between Alex's bosoms. With a bit of an effort, he got close enough and, well, yeah, made Peter Burke roll his eyes.
"Yep. Got it," he said from deep down, holding the ring of a Swiss army knife with his teeth. His chances to get alive out of this had suddenly improved.
He rolled to his back.
"Had fun?" Alex asked, grinning.
"Yeah, did you have fun?" an annoyed Peter asked.
Neal still held the knife's ring between his teeth. He did not want to lose this because he dropped the knife at the wrong place.
Peter scooted over, and Neal placed his trophy in his hands. With impressive skills, Peter had the big blade open in less than a minute.
"Keep a lookout," Peter said. But in the few minutes it took for Peter to cut himself loose, and then Neal and Alex, there was no movement on the rim of the dock. "Time to leave."
Neal could not agree more. With Peter in the lead, they hurried up the staircase.
Then Peter stopped dead, and Neal saw, with his eyes just above the rim why: the goons were waiting by their car. And they had seen them.
"Damn. Down! Get down!" Peter ushered them down the stairs again. "Get behind me. Go." He was always protective of others, even if he had nothing to use in his defense.
They watched the top of the stairs. A man with a gun appeared, looking down at them.
They were sitting ducks. Neal's eyes darted around for anything that could help them.
"FBI! Don't move!" Diana's voice!
"Lower your weapons! Put your hands on your head!" And Jones!
The guy aiming at them considered a second but found it wise to listen. He backed out of their sight with his hands in the air.
"Don't think we could have cut it any closer than that," Peter said with an ease that Neal could not muster. While his handler walked up the stairs to join his colleagues, Neal gave Alex a hand. He felt in more need of support than he wanted to admit.
On top of the dry dock, he saw the beautiful sight of his favorite FBI agents at work. And Mozzie of course. Neal laughed and gave Alex a big hug.
"You saved me again." Without her knife, he would probably be dead. The water was already too high for comfort.
He was alive, and so was she. She was just…
"You saved me," she smiled.
They were so close. So close. And she was so…
The kiss was sweet and so full of love and old memories.
When they separated, Neal's eyes fell on Sara, standing by Mozzie by the FBI van.
And Sara had seen them kiss.