Neal burst out of the building and quickly crossed the parking lot. He slid into the driver's seat of Peter's Taurus and turned to Mozzie.
"I'm going to get her back. I can't let the FBI go after Sorivelli."
"Let me drive," Mozzie said simply.
Neal frowned but didn't argue. Mozzie hated New York traffic. They switched seats, and by the time they were out of the parking lot, Neal was on his phone.
Sorivelli picked up on the second ring. "Son! How good to hear from you. I trust your life is going well. Did you enjoy the delightful video I sent you?"
His cheerful demeanor set Neal's teeth on edge. "The FBI is no longer pursuing your case. They don't know it yet, but they're done with their investigation."
"Neal, Neal, Neal. Always so businesslike, cutting right to what you want to say. You shouldn't do that; you know it frustrates me. If I get frustrated, your friend might not make it out of here alive." Neal could hear the smirk in Sorivelli's voice. He had everyone right where he wanted them, and now he could play with them like a cat with a mouse.
Forcing a pleasantness into his voice that Neal didn't feel, he said, "I'm doing great, father dear. I always enjoy seeing my friends cut up. It's my favorite form of punishment. Psychological things will probably stay with me much longer than if, say, you sent someone to chop and arm or a leg off."
"Exactly! I'm glad you feel that way."
Neal dug his nails into his leg, but he didn't try to respond. He knew what Sorivelli was doing and he knew what would happen if he couldn't keep his temper and at least pretend to be civil.
A silence stretched between them, and then Sorivelli suddenly changed tracks. "Caffrey, the deal was that you get the feds away from me. It sounds like you haven't managed that quite yet."
"I'm working on it," Neal protested through clenched teeth. "Give me a little bit of time. They know what you can do and they know that they need to back off. Let Diana go, and I promise they'll give up the case."
"If I let Diana go, you won't be interested in our little game," Sorivelli said slowly, the words almost sad. "Unless, of course, I give her up and take your… Oh, what do you call him? Your partner? Yes, if I give up my current plaything, I'll have to find another. Either let me keep her or give me Peter."
With a satisfied click the call ended.
Neal slowly lowered the phone and stared at it in disbelief. Sorivelli's use of first names made the threats that much more intimate. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place while the two moved ever closer together, ready to crush him.
"Well?" Mozzie asked.
"If he gives Diana up, he's going to take Peter instead." Neal shook his head. "I can't let that happen."
"That's why we're going where we are," Mozzie replied.
"Thanks, Moz." Neal shoved his phone back in his pocket and stared out the window. The city looked slightly different, as if it knew the evil that roamed its streets and resented Neal for being the catalyst that unleashed this particular brand of evil.
The roads passed by, and Neal realized with a start that they were in the wrong part of the city. In fact, they were headed back towards June's house.
"Uh, Moz, where are we going?"
"You didn't think I was going to use the Suit's car, did you? He's probably tracking us as we speak."
"Oh." Neal relaxed a little. He was being paranoid, but he was almost beginning to understand why Mozzie said that paranoia is a skill.
Mozzie pulled up in front of June's house, expertly parallel parking. Before he had even completely stopped the car, he had the cuffs around Neal's wrists and secured to a handy bar on the inside of the car door.
"Moz!" Neal protested. "You can't do this!"
"If you think I'm going to let you walk right into Sorivelli's arms, you're mistaken. This is for your own good, Neal."
"And if you think I'm going to sit here while you try to rescue Diana, putting yourself at an unreasonable amount of risk, you're insane!" Neal retorted, pulling uselessly at the cuffs. "Where'd you get these, anyway?"
"Glove compartment. Apparently the Suit likes to be prepared." Mozzie shrugged and opened his door. "Good luck getting out. The child locks are on and I'll be sure to disable the carwhen I leave."
"You wouldn't!"
"To save your life I would."
The door slammed shut and Neal was left to curse whoever decided that it was a good idea to put child locks on the front passenger door.
….
Neal regretted putting his phone in his pocket, and he definitely didn't approve of the fact that he put it in his left pants pocket, of all places. Still, he had to do two things: get out of the cuffs and call Peter, in whichever order seemed the most appropriate.
He started to reach for the set of lock picks he usually had, but he remembered that – surprise, surprise – he didn't have said lock picks with him.
Neal sighed in frustration but refused to give up. Handcuffs weren't all that hard to pick, especially when one could see what they were doing. Any number of common household items could be used as a makeshift lock pick, if only he could find something.
The glove compartment would be useless, as Mozzie had gone through it. Unfortunately enough, Peter's usually clean car had recently been vacuumed. Neal would be hard pressed to find a spare bobby-pin lying around, as El didn't usually ride in the Taurus.
Neal's eyes roamed the front seat. Normally he could appreciate a clean vehicle, but this was almost sterile and entirely uncalled for. Couldn't Peter obey the common courtesy of leaving a spare paperclip around?
Halfheartedly, he tried to get his phone again. With the cuffs on, it would be nearly impossible. Decideing to give it one more try, he nudged the rug at his feet. The material inched backward, scrunching up farther along. Neal glimpsed something metallic and leaned forward eagerly, almost not daring to hope.
There sat the very end of a shiny paperclip…
… And it was even more out of reach than his phone.
Well then. It would be time for some inventive swearing just as soon as he managed to call Peter.
Ten uncomfortable minues later, Neal found himself stretched out across two seats, his phone pressed against his ear. It rang once, twice, bzzz, bzzz….
The door swung open and Neal found himself looking at a rather irate Peter Burke.
"Oh, so you think to call now?"
"I didn't have any lockpicks!" Neal protested, squirming on the seats. "Moz left me here."
Peter's expression softened a little, and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Really. Is there, by any chance, surveillance footage of this?"
Neal scowled. "It's kind of uncomfortable here. Would you please stop gloating and get me out of this?"
"I thought you'd never met a lock you couldn't pick. The great Neal Caffrey, bested by a measly pair of handcuffs? No!"
"I can't very well pick it with my nails! Peter, Mozzie left me here because..." Neal stopped. If he said where Moz went, Peter would go, too.
Peter nodded. "Okay, Caffrey. I'll send June down to get you in about twenty minutes."
"Peter, you can't leave—" Neal started to do some inventive swearing in his head. Stupid, impulsive, couldn't realize that Peter would guess where Moz was...
Neal's protests were cut off my the slam of the door once again.
This day really wasn't working out for him.