White Collar: The Nightingale
Chapter Nineteen
"Neal!"
"Hey, Mozzie." Neal greeted as he took a step back and put his hands up to keep the overly excited Mozzie at a safe distance. "Whoa, easy Tiger, no hugging."
"I thought you were dead."
"He almost was." Peter said.
"Oh...hello, Suit." Mozzie said as though just noticing Peter before turing back to Neal. "What happened?"
"I finally got shot." Neal smiled ruefully and gingerly touched his side.
"Congratulations!" Mozzie crowed proudly.
"Congratulation?" Peter repeated.
"It's a badge of honor." Mozzie explained. "Besides chicks dig scars."
"'Chicks' already dig him plenty." Peter huffed. "Can we get back to the problem at hand?"
"We still have a problem?" Mozzie asked seriously.
"The man who was holding me is still after the Nightingale sword and he's holding a young woman against her will." Neal explained. "He also probably has plans for the sword to start some sort of Triad/Yakuza blood bath."
"Zhang's not Triad." Peter corrected. "He has his own Tong."
"Wait," Mozzie interrupted "Zhang as is Jian Zhang?"
"You know him?" Neal asked.
"I know of him." Mozzie turned on Peter. "If I'm not mistaken you killed his son. It was all over the front page."
"Where was I during all of this?" Neal asked.
"If I'd known that I would have arrested you." Peter said seriously. "You must have been somewhere in Europe."
"Allegedly." Mozzie added.
"Mozzie," Peter said with little patients left "what do you know about Zhang's recent activity?"
"Nothing." Mozzie shrugged. "I don't exactly run with his circle."
"Can you try and find something?" Neal asked.
"I have a few source in Chinatown. I'll ask around."
"Thanks."
"It's good to have you back, Neal."
"Good to be back."
Mozzie turned to Peter and gave him a slight head nod in thanks for his roll in bringing his friend back. Peter just furrowed his brow at the strange exchange. Mozzie turned around and disappeared off into the ever present New York crowd. Neal looked up at the residential skyscraper across the street and then around at the surrounding area.
"Look familiar?" Peter asked.
"It's hard to tell from down here. The architecture in this area is right, but being more modern it's not as distinguishable as some older neighborhoods."
"The tech boys said the view from here matches closer than anything else, and from the angle and sunset times you gave them they are guessing that it would have been the penthouse."
"It certainly had the feel of one."
"The feel of one?"
"The construction and utilities in a penthouse tend to be of higher quality than the rest of the building. Everything in Liao's place was top of the line."
"We're still working on finding out who owns it so we can get a warrant."
"How long will that take?" Neal asked.
"A few hours to get the records, a few more to get the judge."
"Peter, we don't have that kind of time. It's almost one now and we have to be at The Golden Phoenix by 8."
"In case you're wondering: I'm not open to suggestions at this point."
"Just trust me." Neal smiled. "Come on."
"Neal..."
Peter's protest fell on deaf ears as Neal was already half way across the street. Peter made a noise of frustration and chased after him. Before Neal stepped into the building he pulled off his tie and put it in his jacket pocket. He flipped the collar of his shirt up and undid the top two buttons. Peter gave Neal a doubtful look.
"Nothing illegal." Neal assured. "Or at least not too illegal."
"Whatever your thinking of doing: don't. Even if you could get us up into the penthouse, then what? Zhang will be well guarded."
"You killed his two most trusted guards at the Yakuza party, I never saw any more than those two."
"He will have hired new ones by now."
"It doesn't matter, I'm not trying to get us in there. I just want to know who owns it. Might speed your little warrant process along."
"Fine, but I'm watching you."
Neal flashed Peter an innocent smile before opening the door and motioning for Peter to lead the way. Once inside Neal took over the lead. He walked purposefully up to the front desk where the day guard was seated. The man looked up at Neal, unimpressed.
"Can I help you, Sir?"
"Can I speak with the building manager?" Neal asked politely.
"One moment."
The man picked up his phone and dial an extension. A few minutes later a middle aged women came out of one of the side offices that occupied the main level. She walked up to Neal and looked him over with slight suspicion. Despite the finely tailored clothing he still didn't look like he could afford to live here.
"Amy Windin Buliding Manager, how can I help you?"
"Nick Holden, I'm a photographer/writer for 'Sky's The Limit' Magazine." Neal introduced himself. "This is my assistant, Peter."
"Uh..." Peter said awkwardly.
"Don't mind him." Neal said quickly. "The Limit feature strictly high end penthouses, best of the best in the country and around the world. I've heard great things about your penthouse. Floor to ceiling windows, italian marble bathrooms with silver shelf showers, not to mention a view unlike any other in New York."
"The view is particularly breathtaking at sunset." The manager said with pride.
"Yes it is." Neal agreed. "Who would I talk to about setting up a shoot?"
"You can see it now."
"Really?" Neal asked a touch surprised.
"We just lost our resident, a feature could help us sell the flat. Would you like to take a tour?"
"Sure."
As the manager walked off towards the elevator Neal flashed Peter a 'see-that-wasn't-so-bad' smile. Peter responded with a stony stare. Neal sighed in mock defeat and followed after the manager. She stepped into the elevator and explained that the penthouse was accessed by a code set into the elevator. As they rode up she rattled off the specs of the multi-million dollar residence.
When the elevators opened they revealed an opulent, but very barren penthouse. It looked different with all of the furniture and art work removed, but Neal recognized it instantly. He looked to Peter and nodded. Peter instantly went into high alert. He reached inside his jacket and snapped the safety strap off his shoulder holster to allow for quicker access to his gun if need be.
"Here we are. Forgive me if there is any mess left." The manager said as she walked into the main room. "The resident moved out late last night and we haven't had a chance to clean yet."
"Why did he leave?" Neal asked.
"Not sure. He paid the fees for breaking the lease Friday morning and left that night."
"So he was already betting on getting the Nightingale." Peter mused out load.
"Excuse me?" The manager asked confused.
"That's just slang for finding a better place." Neal stepped in. "If he broke your lease he must have something else set up."
"Oh..." The manager replied still confused.
"Can we look around?" Neal asked politely.
"Go for it."
Neal walked through the main room over to the large East facing window. He stood in the empty space where Liao had first truly threatened him. Neal rubbed at the thin cut that was still healing on his throat. A small stain on the bright white carpet caught his attention. He went to kneel on the carpet to get a closer look but a sharp pain stopped him. Peter came over and looked down at the spot that had captivated Neal's attention.
"What did you find?"
"Dry blood. I think you'll find that it's mine." Neal replied. "Liao nearly slit my throat right here."
"Slit throat? There was a recent murder with a slit throat. The guy looked an awful lot like you, right down to the hat. Mozzie thinks he was a thief taking 'credit' for your work to get jobs. Mozzie gave me the name Jordan Chase, but we haven't found anything on him yet."
"Jordan Chase? That is the identity that Liao was offering me."
"So there was a connection."
"He's probably the one that took the Sapphire Waterfall."
"You've seen the Waterfall?"
"Liao had it. He used it as further blackmail to try and convince me that I couldn't go back to my previous life."
"Clever."
"You two aren't photographers, are you?" The manager asked.
"F.B.I, Special Agent Peter Burke." Peter introduced himself formally and showed the manager his badge. "This is a crime scene, I need all of the information on the resident that was here."
"Shit." The manager growled.
"Sorry." Peter apologized with little sympathy.
"I...uh...I'll go get you the paperwork."
"No. You stay right here, I want one of my Agents with you. Your office is off limits until then."
"All the paper work is fake." The manager admitted.
"What?"
"Mr. Hua paid me in cash."
"You made up the rental agreement, charged him more than the building owners do, and you've been skimming off the extra." Neal guessed.
The manager bowed her head and nodded as she started crying. Peter stepped up and lead her away from the elevator. He brought her to the far corner of the room near the window.
"Sit. Stay."
Clearly not an experienced criminal the manager did nothing to try and claim plausible deniability. She just sat on the carpet and cried quietly. Peter walked back over to Neal. He brought out his new cell phone and called Diana to send a team over. With the blood stain and the building manager's confession they no longer needed a warrant. Peter hung up with Diana and looked back over at the manager.
"I hate it when they cry."
"At least she confessed up front, that's gotta count for something."
"It does, I'll keep aiding and abetting a felon out of it, leave it at straight embezzlement."
"That's nice of you."
"She's not going anywhere." Peter retrieved his gun. "I'm going to clear the rest of the rooms."
Neal nodded and followed a few steps behind while Peter checked the other rooms. There was no sign of Liao left in the large penthouse. The last room they came to was the key coded locked room that Neal had called 'home' for a while. The door was locked, the keypad was blinking waiting for a code.
"Can you open this?"
Neal reached out and tapped the code in and the heavy automatic lock clicked open.
"Dare I ask?"
"There isn't even a handle on the other side of the door. When Liao's men brought me back here after dinner they didn't even try to hide the combination from me since it was worthless to me once inside."
Peter opened the door carefully, using it as a shield. He wasn't expecting anyone, but there was no reason not to be safe. Neal just hoped that Hsing wasn't laying in a pool of blood on the far side of the door. Peter swept the room quickly before fully opening the door and stepping inside.
"All clear." Peter said as he holstered his weapon.
Neal took his tie out of his pocket and folded it up into a small thick square. Not interested in getting locked in again he used the tie to wedge the door open. Peter was standing in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips. Neal expected him to be looking at the view, however he was inspecting the wall. Neal came in the room to see what Peter was looking at.
Neal's blood ran cold when he saw that Liao hadn't taken everything. All of his forgeries that Liao had collected were still hanging on the wall. They looked painfully out of place in the barren room. Neal did his best to look only mildly interested even though his heart was racing.
"What are these?" Peter asked even though he knew the answer.
"I'm guessing forgeries."
"Guessing?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Well if they're not we've just stumbled on an incredible find of stolen art."
"These weren't here when you were?"
"They were, I just didn't really have the time to look at them very closely."
"Of course, being held hostage is stressful." Peter said in a tone that bordered on mocking.
"Exactly."
"Any thoughts on who the 'artist' might be?"
"No idea." Neal shrugged. "I highly doubt it was all one artist."
"What makes you say that?"
"Forgers tend to stick to one artist or style, here we have Rembrandt, Van Gogh, Vermeer, with realism, expressionist, pointillism, etc. The variety here shows far more talent that the average forger."
"If only I knew an 'above average forger of extraordinary talent'."
"Peter, you flatter me." Neal smiled in false modesty. "I don't have nearly this much skill."
"Yeah...right." Peter narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Peter you can't really believe this is my work."
"I don't know what I think yet."
"It wasn't me." Neal insisted.
"A strange man once told me: 'never underestimate your enemies, or overestimate your friends.'."
"Sound advice. Wait...which one am I?"
"I don't think either one of us has figured that out yet."