CHAPTER SIX

"In peace, sons bury their fathers; in war, fathers bury their sons."

April 3, 2011

Train from Luzern to Munich

Much to Neal's delight, he and Peter wouldn't be working their way back home. Before they left Luzern to head back to Munich, Adele handed them a check with more than enough cash to get stateside. She wished them good luck and said that if they were ever in the area again, to stop by.

After Neal told Peter Adele's story, Peter was wary to trust her. Who was to say that Adele wasn't going to turn around right then and warn Adler? Neal had to admit that Peter had a point, but they had nothing to compare her story to. They had already made an appearance and there was no turning back now. Peter reluctantly agreed, understanding that Neal had taken a leap of faith. Still, he was eager to get home as soon as possible to check the Pennsylvania lead out.

"I find it very ironic," said Peter, on the train ride back to Munich. "That after everything, he was right under our noses the entire time."

"You think it's too ironic," asked Neal.

Peter nodded, eyes narrowed as he thought hard, trying to find a discrepancy in the story.

"We don't know how long he's been there," Neal placated. "He might've moved there after he blew us up."

"But that's pretty bold of him to hide out right there," said Peter. "I mean, if Adele heard about our deaths over here, then no telling what kind of publicity everything got over there."

"I guess I don't know what to make of it, yet," said Neal. "But frankly, I don't really care why he's doing what he does anymore. I just want to stop him."

Peter nodded knowingly. "Should we send word to Moz and El about us returning?"

Neal smiled mischievously. "No way! I think we should completely surprise them."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Fine."

They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence.

()()()()()()

April 3, 2011

New York City

When Elizabeth had received her postcard, telling her that Peter and Neal were in Munich, she was almost jealous. Munich? The postcard was a beautiful picture of the old city at sunset. However, she didn't relish their situation. If they were seen by the wrong person, it could all end very quickly. She shuddered at the thought.

As per a mutual agreement, Elizabeth and Mozzie burned their postcards after receiving them. They had burned the packages that had borne their first gifts to them. But Mozzie wore his orange ascot and actually kept bread in the bread basket and never said a word about where he was keeping the amber necklace. And Elizabeth had the petals of the purple azaleas tucked away her favorite book. That was something she would never throw away. But the postcard, despite the pretty picture, was burned and the ashes washed away.

After the postcard, Mozzie called Elizabeth on the untraceable phone he had given her to contact him if she needed anything. He called to inform her that Adler's family was from Munich, which was why Neal and Peter were investigating there. Elizabeth had a momentary lapse of strength as she spoke of how much she really wanted Peter home.

"It'll be all right, Mrs. Suit," said Mozzie. "They're the best. You'll see. They'll make it home all right."

"Oh, and you should've seen Sara the other day, Moz," said Elizabeth. "I wanted to tell her so bad that they were okay. I want to tell everyone! Everyone at the Bureau is working so hard at trying to find Adler. They hate him for this! I don't blame them; I hate him for just trying to kill Peter and Neal. And I wish I could tell Peter's family. I can't imagine what his mother is going through." She sighed. "And poor Sara. I could tell she wasn't doing very well."

"Ms. Ellis is a very strong woman," said Mozzie. "So strong that I'm sure she'll give Neal a hard time when he gets back about not telling her about their little trick."

"Oh, they're both getting a hard time from me," said Elizabeth. "But, I have to respect their wishes. If they didn't tell her, then that's it."

Mozzie nodded in agreement. "Also, how are you taking this O.P.R. investigation?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "I actually haven't been paying that much attention to it. I knew what was coming so I didn't worry about it. Like I told Hughes, I know my husband and Neal. And we all know that O.P.R.'s accusations aren't anywhere near the truth."

"Anybody given you grief," asked Mozzie.

"What are you going to do, Moz," asked Elizabeth. "Wave chopsticks at them?"

Mozzie rolled his eyes. "I'm just checking on you, Mrs. Suit," he said.

"Well, if you must know," began Elizabeth. "A few O.P.R. agents came around the house and my store and sniffed about. But there wasn't anything for them to find. And I've had some reporters and such call on me. But then Diana and Jones showed up and told them to back off. They haven't been around since."

Mozzie smiled. "Good. I knew we could count on that over-threatening pair."

Elizabeth laughed. "Okay, then, Mozzie. Thank you for calling."

"Anytime, Mrs. Suit. Anytime."

()()()()()()

April 4, 2011

Munich, Germany

9:00 AM

Peter absentmindedly flipped through a German newspaper as he lounged on the bed in another hostel room. Neal was showering—since he was apparently too tired to shower when they had gotten in late last night. Neal hadn't taught Peter how to read in German, but he could get the gist of the articles. Most of the words were cognates anyway, and what he didn't know, he sounded out. And if there was no hope to it, he could always look at the pictures. But most of it was about the typical on goings of the world anyway—war, crime, and entangling politics. He looked over pictures that had been taken in the aftermath of a terrorist bombing in Egypt and shook his head. Would it ever end?

Neal came out, making jeans and a t-shirt look dapper, and grinned. "Anything interesting in there?"

"Not that I can see," said Peter. "Just the usual."

"Hmm," said Neal. "I never understood why people read those things every morning. They're kind of depressing."

"You have to find some way to hear about what's going on out there," said Peter. "And I prefer this over the news where some woman who won't stop smiling no matter how bad the news is telling me."

"They do not constantly smile," said Neal.

"I've seen some who do," said Peter. "You'd think they were models or something; not professional journalists."

Neal shook his head. "Ever the narcissist. Ready to go?"

"I've been ready sleepyhead," shot back Peter, practically jumping out of bed.

"You're the one who let me sleep in, big brother," said Neal. "Haha—you really are Big Brother."

Peter yanked open the door. "Out."

They were on their way to cash in the check Adele had given them so that they could buy their plane tickets. There was a bank not too far from where they were staying. Their plan was to get tickets for the first flight possible.

"We're getting breakfast afterwards, right," said Neal.

"Yes," said Peter. "As soon as we get these Euros."

"Good, cause I'm starving," said Neal.

"And let's make it a good breakfast," said Peter. "We have the money."

"You won't hear me arguing," said Neal.

He opened the door to the bank and they went inside.

()()()()()()

April 4, 2011

Luzern, Switzerland

9:30 AM

Adele grumbled when her phone rang. She had just hung up with someone else. Even out here, with her parents in the country, she was unable to escape work?

"Hello?"

"I'm looking for Adele Adler Jaegar?"

"This is she."

"Hi, this is Herr Karl Hendel with Bayern LB, Munich. I am calling on the behalf of two American men who are here with a large check that was supposedly made out by you. I'm calling to verify this. They are cashing it in for Euros."

"Yes, that is right," said Adele. "I would be happy to verify my account information if you wish."

"You can start by giving me the names of the two men you gave it to," said Herr Hendel.

"They are brothers," replied Adele. "Paul and Matthias Hartley."

"Yes, that is who they claim to be," replied Hendel. "You understand that I am just be cautious with your money?"

"Yes, Herr Hendel," replied Adele. "And I thank you for it."

"Well, that is all then," said Herr Hendel. "Thank you for your time Frau Adler."

He hung up and Adele sighed, and got back to her day. She turned on the radio to listen to her favorite tunes as she started making breakfast for herself and her parents. Not but fifteen minutes later, the music was interrupted by a stern voice.

"We are interrupting this program to announce that there has been a terrorist attack in Munich," said the voice. "It has only just happened about ten minutes ago. More information can be gotten from our corresponding TV network—".

But Adele had already switched on the television as she clicked off the radio. She went to news channel, where there was already footage of the scene in Munich. She could hardly believe it: smoke was billowing from the remnants of the Bayern LB.

()()()()()()

April 4, 2011

New York City

6:00 AM

Elizabeth had a routine in the morning: get up, put the coffee on, let Satch out, switch on the news and start breakfast. She never started breakfast this morning. Instead it was: get up, put the coffee on, let Satch out, switch on the news, sit down in shock and call Mozzie.

"Mrs. Suit," he answered cordially. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"There was an attack in Munich," Elizabeth replied, eyes still glued to the television. "Do you have a TV nearby?"

"Um, yes," said Mozzie. There was a pause. "Okay, Elizabeth, you shouldn't worry that much. It was just a bank. There are tons of banks in Munich, who's to say they were in that one at that very moment? The odds of it are so slim."

"Oh, I know," said Elizabeth. "I'm sorry to bother you. All I saw on the news was that it was in Munich and the thought that Peter and Neal were there scared me."

"And I'm sure they'll realize that," said Mozzie. "They'll send word that they're okay. They wouldn't leave us hanging."

"I'm sure you're right," said Elizabeth. "As usual."

"No, Mrs. Suit," said Mozzie. "You are right more often than I am." He paused. "You know, I have a contact in Munich. He's an old one, but if you wanted to, I could have him seek out Peter and Neal. It's a risk to their cover, but—".

"No," interrupted Elizabeth. "You're right. The odds of them being there are too slim. It's not something that warrants us blowing their cover off. Thank you for listening, Moz. Sorry to bother you."

"You're never a bother, Mrs. Suit," replied Moz, before he hung up.

()()()()()()

April 5, 2011

Munich, Germany

2:00 PM

The first thing he was aware of was that he could hear people talking around him. Their voices seemed far away, but he knew they were there. He held onto that knowledge as he tried to see. When he finally did get his eyes open, he slammed them back shut to ward away the bright light. Someone touched his arm and shook him gently. Once more, he could hear a voice, but he couldn't understand them. It was like they were mumbling. But he finally did open his eyes, just a little. He squinted until it was more comfortable and then he looked around him.

A nurse stood over Peter in the hospital bed, gently shaking his arm. When she saw that he was awake, she smiled and began to talk to him. Her voice was still too dim for him to understand. He shook his head.

"I can't—," he cut himself off as he remembered where he was. He switched to German. "I can't hear you."

The nurse made an expression of realization and nodded. She wrote on a piece of paper and handed it to him. He might as well have been trying to read Greek. His head hurt too much to try and make sense of the words. He shook his head and looked at the nurse.

"English?"

She smiled and took the paper from him. She wrote more and handed it back to him. "How are you feeling?"

Peter thought about that for a moment, as he surveyed the damage. His chest was throbbing as was his calf, though he could see bandages on both. There was a pounding on his head, and that's when he realized that his head was also bandaged. He looked back at the nurse.

"I think the bandages on my head are too tight."

The nurse nodded and smiled and set to re-wrapping his wound. While she did, he looked around. He wasn't in a room by himself. It looked like an ER, but it was difficult to see from where he was. The curtains had been drawn on either side of his bed so that all he could see was the hallway. Doctors and nurses and paramedics were rushing about out there, pulling and pushing patients to and fro. He was suddenly struck with panic.

He grabbed the nurse's wrist and she looked at him in alarm. "My brother," he said. He was shouting to her, though he thought he sounded fairly normal. "Did you find my brother?"

She quickly picked up the paper and wrote: "I do not know who your brother is, but if you give me his name I will look for him here at the hospital. He could be at another hospital though."

Peter nodded, still very worried. How did they have the worst luck? They were so close to going home and they get blown up? He could remember the fear in his chest when the suicide bomber walked into the bank, shouting prayers in Arabic to the ceiling.

When the nurse was finished wrapping his head, she explained his injuries. He had three broken ribs, a piece of shrapnel had caught him in the lower leg, and he had sixteen stitches along his hairline. Not to mention he couldn't hear. But the nurse said that that was normal and after while he would get his hearing back.

"My brother's name is Matthias Hartley," said Peter.

"I'll go look for him," promised the nurse. "And as soon as I find him, I'll let you know." She turned to leave and then spun back and scribbled on the paper. "My name is Heidi, if you need anything."

The nurse left Peter's small, curtained off area and headed for the counter where the wounded's names were being kept. There was a man there, arguing with the head nurse. The man was leaning heavily on one crutch, his formerly nice suit ruined by blood, dust, and specks of debris that clung to it. A young boy clutched his good leg.

"I have to find these men," the man was saying.

"Sir," the head nurse replied curtly. "You cannot. You are not family. All I can tell you is whether or not they are even in this hospital and if they are alive."

The man glared at her and Heidi reached for the log with the names of the wounded. The man pointed to the log. "Is that it?"

"Yes," said the head nurse. "As soon as Heidi here is done with it, I will look up the names for you."

"What are the names, sir," asked Heidi. "I'll be happy to look them up for you."

"Paul and Matthias Hartley," said the man. "They saved my son's life as well as my own."

Heidi's head shot up. "I've been tending to Paul."

"Can I see him," asked the man.

"Sir," barked the head nurse. "I just explained this to you. Unless you are immediate family, you cannot visit anyone. This hospital is crowded enough as it is. Now, later on, when everything has calmed down, you may come back. But for now, I suggest you get some rest."

The man looked at Heidi. "Fine, then. But could you tell them something for me?"

"Yes, sir," replied Heidi.

"Just let them know that the man from the bank is very much in their debt. Thank them very much for saving my son's life."

Heidi smiled. "I will."

The man nodded and left, taking his son with him. Heidi continued to look through the log. She smiled when she came across their names. "Paul Hartley. Matthias Hartley." She looked back up at the head nurse. "I need to let Paul know that his brother is alive."

()()()()()()

April 12, 2011

Luzern, Switzerland

6:00 PM

Adele, back in her own home, was on the couch with a glass of wine, watching the evening news. Her husband, Derek, came in and sat down beside her with his dinner.

"Anything interesting on the news today," he asked.

"There's still a lot about the bombing in Munich," replied Adele.

"Hmm," said Derek. "That was a shame. Scary to think that a terrorist would show up at your little bank."

"Guess it's the same as bank robbers showing up," said Adele.

"True."

"And now," said the news reporter. "We have another story of the heroism that took places in the Bayern LB bombing. I have here, with me, an employee of the bank, Karl Hendel. Karl, tell us what happened while you were there."

Adele swallowed.

"I was talking with two American gentlemen about a check they were having cashed," told Karl. "We were set back away from the lobby, beside the vault. My son was with us as well. That was when the terrorist came in. He screamed at everyone and showed that he had a bomb. He couldn't see us, though."

"Were you scared," asked the reporter.

"Very," replied Karl. "I was horrified that my son and I should die this way. But one of the Americans, he said that we should get into the vault because it might protect us from the blast. But I did not have the keys to it. The large, steel door was already open, but the barred door was not. Well, the American, he broke into it!"

"They broke into the bank vault," asked the reporter, almost disbelieving.

"Yes," said Karl. "He broke in! I picked up my son and ran inside. The other American started to pull the door shut and that is when the bomb went off."

"Do you know who these Americans were," asked the reporter.

"Yes," replied Karl. "They were brothers: Paul and Matthias Hartley. They were actually in the same hospital as me. But when I went back to see them, the staff said that they had disappeared."

The reporter chuckled. "Do you think these men might've been bank robbers?"

Karl shrugged. "All I know is that they saved my life. For that, I am very grateful."

Derek looked at his wife. "That was quite a story. Do you think they really were bank robbers?"

Adele shook her head. "No idea. But that's very ironic."

The reporter caught their attention again. "Well, it seems that we do have faces to put to these two mystery heroes. The hospital has footage of the two men leaving the hospital of their own accord."

And on the screen appeared the faces of one Peter Burke and one Neal Caffrey; aka: Paul and Matthias Hartley.