/* Tuesday */
The day started early for Peter, and it didn't start good. From then on, it got worse by the hour.
At the crack of dawn, he got a wake-up call from NYPD telling him they had found Orlov in a dumpster, with a bullet in the head. He had been shot from behind, probably early evening the day before.
Agent Burke drove over to Orlov's apartment to break the news to the bereaved wife, only to find it deserted. The apartment had been searched yesterday afternoon. In the 18 hours in-between, it had been emptied of all personal items. There were piles of ashes in the fire place. Apparently, the remainders of burned documents.
Half an hour before he would start his office day usually, he took a phone call from June. She was in panic and listening to her made Peter's blood run cold. "When Neal left the house, there were three threatening looking goons waiting for him. I couldn't overhear them talking, but had to watch them ushering Neal into the car. He put up resistance, yet had no chance, they were armed."
June described the car and gave Peter the plate details. Diana ran the plate through the computer, just to find out the car has been reported stolen two weeks ago. Dead end.
A couple of minutes later, Hughes came into Burke's office. "The Marshalls have called. Caffrey cut his anklet. Did he run? The last signal we got was on New Jersey Turnpike, heading for George Washington Bridge."
"No, of course not! He didn't run. He has been kidnapped, probably by Orlov's men, or by whoever was behind him. We need to find Neal urgently, but I have no idea where to start looking. If he'd wanted to run, he could have done so when he was off anklet." Peter shook his head in disbelief.
"I don't know what to think anymore. Maybe, he has changed his mind. Thought about the alternatives and decided against a future as an underpaid FBI consultant working for you." Hughes looked doubtful.
"But then again, I don't really think that Caffrey made an escape. That artful dodger would have worked out a more sophisticated plan. If you need support putting up a search party, call me. Whatever you need, you'll get it."
Burke had called Mozzie to inform him on the latest course of events immediately after he had talked to June. The little man hasn't wasted any time to rush over to the office.
"Suit, where is my friend? I want him back!"
"You want him back? He's not a toy you've loaned me and which I've lost by negligence."
"I know. He's my friend. Actually, the only friend I have, or as a matter of fact, the only one I've ever had. It takes a long time to grow an old friend. He takes me as I am and still likes me. With him, I can be stupid without actually feeling stupid. Ah, forget it. Someone like you won't understand!" Mozzie finished his tirade frustrated.
Peter was deeply touched by this outburst. "I do understand." He's my friend, too. However, he didn't utter the words. Probably, it would invite Mozzie's sharp-tongued contradiction.
"Suit, let's get down to business. Where have you been you looking for him so far?"
"Orlov's apartment, The Samovar, some other addresses known as meeting places for the Russian mob. To no avail."
"What about the warehouse?"
"What warehouse?"
"Orlov's warehouse, of course!"
"I don't know anything about a warehouse belonging to Orlov."
"The warehouse where I met Orlov to hand over the icon and negotiate the deal."
Peter was fuming. "You never told me about a warehouse. You've spent almost a week at my home, but haven't trusted me enough to tell about the warehouse?"
"I'm telling you now. Confiding in a Fed is against my nature. We call it survival instinct."
"I call it obstruction of justice." Peter was gasping while he tried to calm himself down. When this was over, he would ask El to teach him some of her relaxation techniques. A few deep-breathing exercises might help to suppress the urge to strangle the man in front of him. "Never mind, where is the warehouse? Tell me!"
"It's somewhere in Washington Heights. I can show you the way."
Meanwhile, Neal had had an insightful ride. His abductors hadn't trusted him to understand Russian. Therefore, they had been chatting without reserve. The conman had learned that Orlov was dead; someone referenced as 'she' had ordered the killing, plus a top-rank boss from their organization had requested his very own presence. When the criminals had found the anklet, he had taken some blows before they had tasered him. They had cut the anklet and thrown his mobile out of the car.
Now, the kidnapped CI was sitting on a chair in an old, run-down warehouse, his hands restrained with cable ties. He still felt a bit dizzy; in addition his stomach was hurting from the punches. Apart from that, he was alert and waited anxiously for the things to come.
The FBI consultant didn't have to wait long until Tatjana Orlova appeared, accompanied by a couple of armed men. After overhearing the conversation in the limo, Neal wasn't surprised to face her. "May I offer you my sincere condolences? Nicolai's death must be a grievous loss to you." His ironic smile betrayed his words.
Poppy seemed amused. "Why, no! He was a failure. He ruined the insurance scam. Even though, this wasn't worth more than pocket money. Worse still, he has blown our cover for Papa's money laundering. But of course Mr. Caffrey, you know that already since you were the one who spied on him on behalf of the FBI. Papa asked me to get rid of Nicky. Well, that's what I did."
She didn't show any emotion; to the contrary, she seemed rather cool as ice. Her attitude sent cold shivers up and down Neal's spine. Plus, she obviously knew his real identity. Not good. "Then why am I still alive?"
"My dad is flying in. We expect him in the afternoon. He wants to interrogate you himself. Apparently, you must have played dirty tricks on one of his friends. He takes these issues personally. But don't worry; you won't have to wait long. Be my guest."
Damn it! This didn't look good. Neal couldn't think about any Russian mobster in specific on whom he had played tricks. But it might very well be possible that he had pissed of one of Lasarew's friends.
He just hoped Peter would find him before Papa arrived. Peter had always found him, for better or for worse. Of course, he would be looking for him already. He would, wouldn't he? His handler wouldn't have decided he wasn't worth all the hassle? Who needed a CI without trust, a CI not talking to you, a CI going behind your back to your boss snatching an undercover job?
Despite all doubts, deep down Neal was convinced that Agent Burke would come looking for him. June had seen his violent abduction, and most certainly called the FBI without delay. Somehow, Peter would perform his FBI magic and find Neal, even though, he had not the least idea where to look for him.
Still, it won't do any harm to look for a getaway on his own. He has been left alone in a small room with boarded up windows. The window panes were gone long since. Yet some sharp glass edges were left in the frame. Neal used those to abrade the cable ties. It took a while until he succeeded, made his wrists bleeding, but finally his hands were free.
Back at the Bureau, Peter and his team discussed agitated the best way to free Neal. Hughes had suggested sending in an armed response team. However, they scrapped the plan since the risks involved were too high. Neal might end in a dead-end hostage situation if the criminals felt trapped.
Mozzie suggested creating a smoke screen to distract them, so that the FBI could enter unnoticed to rescue Caffrey.
Peter wasn't convinced. "How do you want to distract a bunch of violent criminals on your own? You're good at driving people crazy, but not that good!"
Mozzie had an answer. "I would recruit Alex, dashing like a fury upon the scene, scaring them out of their wits. Only, she had to leave New York already. It seems the icon she found for us belonged to a very possessive Greek government official with good connections to the embassy. Taking her experience with the system of justice in Greece into account, she decided to disappear from the scene. And disappearing she can do really well."
Peter remembered another unpleasant call he had taken this morning. "I know someone else who happened to fly in from London yesterday. She can do mad woman." Said lady had taken the red-eye flight. Accordingly, she was overwrought when she called to give the agent a dressing-down for involving Neal in the operation. Considering the events of the morning so far, this had just been the icing on the cake.
"Sara? Oh yes, she can do mad woman. Even I'm afraid of her..." Mozzie would have preferred to work with Alex. But then, it's a case of any port in a storm.
"To be on the safe side, you're taking Jones along as back up. If your distraction tactics don't work, you need someone who can handle a gun." They hoped that two agents could go unnoticed to the back of the warehouse. Peter himself, together with Diana, would enter through a side entrance, looking out for Caffrey. The armed response team would wait a block away, ready to step in upon request.
In the meantime, Neal had given up the hope to escape through one of the windows. They were boarded-up firmly, and he had no tools available. Therefore, he approached the door carefully to sound out the situation. Obviously, there were no guards in position to watch the captive. The conman seized the opportunity, moving through the bigger room adjacent to the smaller one where he had been locked. He reached the exit door, leading to the back yard and opened it without making any noise.
Just when he heaved a sigh of relief, he heard a gun cocking close to his head. "You're not going anywhere. Turn around! Hands over your head!"
Neal was frustrated but acquiesced in the situation. It didn't make much sense to start a fight with an armed opponent.
Poppy was exasperated by the attempted escape. "You are an annoying bastard for sure. It's hardly surprising that Keller wants you to suffer. Dealing with you seems to have this effect on people."
The CI winced. Keller! That explained a lot. Matthew Keller was no-one to forgive and forget. He has been out for revenge ever since they took the treasure from him. By the looks of it, he had called in a favor from one of his newly found Russian buddies. By all accounts, that treasure was big enough to buy him many favors, huge ones.
Tatjana checked her watch impatiently. "Much to my regret, Papa requested you alive. He won't be here before late afternoon. Too bad, I have to keep you around. Alive."
The con man flashed a charming smile at her. "That's good news. Maybe, he needs my expertise on a business opportunity. I'm a man of many parts."
The widowed criminal smiled frostily. "You're wide off the mark. By all appearances, he has received specific instructions regarding your decease. I'll spare you the details, really ugly stuff. No need to bother your handsome head beforehand. Time will tell."
Out of the corner of his eye, Neal saw an arm raising, giving him a blow with the butt of the gun. The pain was immense, but short-lived since he passed out subsequently.
He was dragged back to the small room in the back of the warehouse to be restrained with cable ties. This time, he was fixed to the piping with hands and feed tied together. Two guards were left to watch him. Poppy didn't want to disappoint her Papa by losing Neal Caffrey.
There hadn't been a lot of persuading needed to engage Sara. Even so, it was around noon when Mozzie, Jones and Sara finally arrived at the warehouse.
The three of them were a funny sight. Mozzie was wearing one of his colorful, oversize Hawaiian shirts, khaki slacks, with a base cap on top, whereas Sara was dressed to the hilt. Jones could have gone to a casting of Men in Black, wearing a black suit, white shirt, plus dark sun glasses. They were a true eye-catcher which was exactly the purpose of the dress up.
The little man banged on the front door, making a lot of noise. When the door was opened, Sara pushed it open and tried to march in. With a furious look on her face, she started yelling. "Get out of my way. I'm not leaving without my money. No-one sells me out." She poked with her index finger into the chest of the man blocking the door, who in turn was confused and didn't know how to react.
Mozzie chimed in. "Don't blame me. I warned you! I'm only the fence. It's her icon. If you play dirty tricks on her, she'll go ballistic."
The turmoil at the front entrance had caught the attention of the other men inside the warehouse. Two of them pressed forward to assess the situation.
Mozzie and Sara were bitching and moaning about the icon issue ceaselessly, alternating between blaming each other for cheating and demanding surrender of their property. Jones didn't say a single word, but remained silently threatening in the back.
Three grown-up men, hardened criminals, were simply not up to the task of handling those two wranglers and called for their boss.
When Poppy arrived, she took over control right away. "So what do you want? I know you." For a split second, Sara was scared stiff. There had been a residual risk that one of the criminals knew her face from the insurance scam. She had been quite sure that she hadn't met any of Orlov's men or his wife before. Still, if they'd recognized her, the cover would have been blown.
Much to Sara's relief, Tatjana Orlova pointed in Mozzie's direction. Hence, the scaring moment went by. "Who is the rest of you? We're not staging a costume party."
"That's Ms. Wagner. She, sort of, owns the icon painting I sold to your husband a while ago, who unfortunately hasn't paid the agreed price yet. He made a down payment, but three-fourths are still missing. Now, he's not taking my calls anymore. We're here to refresh his memory." Mozzie put on an air of importance.
Poppy nodded amused. "My husband is not available. Who's your third man?"
"He's my hired muscle. The name isn't important. You're not going to fob me off with empty promises. He's taking care of that."
Tatjana was no pushover. She refused to pay them off or even letting them inside the warehouse. The discussion went on and on. Obviously, she didn't know the whole confrontation was nothing but a stalling technique.
Two criminals were still inside, keeping Caffrey under guard. Peter and Diana had entered through the back door unnoticed. They were working their way through the warehouse with caution. Both of them keeping each other safe, standard FBI procedure.
That was of course, until Peter spotted Neal lying on the floor in a small pool of blood. The agent couldn't tell whether his consultant was unconscious, but saw blood pouring from a wound at the back of his head. The thick black hair was drenched, drying blood was all over.
This frightful sight misled Peter into letting his guard down; he rushed into the room towards the man on the floor. It was then that Neal opened his eyes. He seized the situation and uttered a warning. Only, it was too late. The FBI agent hadn't seen the armed man inside of the room. Now, he was confronted with a gun leveled at him.
However, this was a standoff since Burke was carrying his weapon as well.
The agent was kneeling on the concrete floor at Caffrey's side, checking his injuries. That task turned out to be a bit complicated since he was watching the armed criminal closely at the same time and didn't lower his gun. "Neal, how are you?"
"I'm ok. So far. I'm feeling a bit put through the mangle. But I've been worse off before. What's troubling me right now is the armed guy across the room, in addition to his buddy at the window..." He nodded towards the direction. "Don't tell me you came alone. Not that I want to seem ungrateful."
"Diana's here, too." Peter was relieved to hear his partner being flippant, even if it was only put on. It proved he wasn't injured seriously.
"I thought more about a fully-fledged SWAT team... Those two have some friends here in the building." He tried to sit up, but stopped to rest against the piping groaning with pain.
Peter signaled Diana to call in the rescue team. He agreed they wouldn't be able to handle the situation on their own. Both agents were carrying the standard FBI small arms, whereas their opponents had semiautomatics.
Unfortunately, Neal's guards had the same idea and shouted for back up. Two other men came running from the front door. They were talking hurriedly in Russian moving towards Neal and Peter.
The agent rose, positioning himself in front of his injured and restrained friend to shield him, aiming his gun with both hands. "Freeze, FBI."
The reaction was immediate. One of the villains laughed out loudly. The other one pulled the trigger and shot the Federal agent. Given the short distance, the professional weapon in conjunction with the obvious skill of the shooter, it wasn't a surprise that the bullet didn't miss the target, but hit Peter right into the chest.
The impact knocked him over, and he landed hard on his back. Now, a lot of things happened at once; hell broke loose.
"Peter, NO!" Neal watched horror-stricken as his partner tumbled over. Since he was still restrained, he couldn't move to check on his partner.
Jones rushed in from the front, together with Diana they shot two of the attackers. Peter turned around and wounded his shooter. Still the Russian thugs weren't defeated yet but returned fire.
Sara whipped her baton out of the hand bag, hit Poppy with a practiced hand and send her to the ground unconscious. As she had mentioned quite a while ago, she loved to use her baton. Mozzie tied the criminal with her own scarf.
Finally, the FBI back up team stormed in to save the situation.
Mozzie came running to check on Neal. He cut the restrains chaining him to the pipework. Before the little man could inspect the bleeding wound, his friend was already up and about, turning towards his handler. "Peter, you should be dead!"
The agent was coughing. "Oh should I? Sorry to disappoint you."
"That's not what I meant to say. That bullet has hit your heart. How could you survive such a blow?"
"Maybe I don't have a heart?"
Neal frowned. "Bad joke, even to your already low standards concerning humor."
The agent opened his jacket and revealed a bulletproof vest, the same make as the high-end protective equipment they'd saved from being stolen at the FBI convention. The White Collar division had purchased vests for all of the agents doing field work.
"You were right, feels like a bear hug. Probably, from a very angry bear. Ouch!" Quite possibly, his rib cage was contused. Moreover, he got a graze shot at the upper right leg.
Neal wasn't appeased. "You have no impulse control, do you? Ever thought about what would have happened if they had aimed for your head instead?"
Peter rubbed his hurting rib cage, smiling ruefully. "I guess you'd had to work hard to get back on El's good side. Ahem, while we're on the subject, things turned out all right. So please, spare her the details, just don't blurt out how close this was when you see her."
The medical team came in to take care of the wounded men, criminals as well as Peter and Neal. Diana and Jones were both unharmed. Therefore, both made sure that the arrest and the preservation of evidences followed FBI standard procedures.
Mozzie and Sara made a big fuss about the wounded consultant and quarreled who would accompany him in the ambulance. Only one of them was allowed in the car, but both claimed the privilege.
At the hospital, a part of Neal's hair had to be shaved off in order to treat the wound. It was a shame to cut those thick black curls. Fortunately, his good looks would be damaged only temporarily. Apart from the stitches he needed, there were no further injuries. Hence, he was released afterwards. June would take care of him. Probably, Mozzie and Sara would be there for a celebration, too. Diana had offered to drive him back home.
Neal Caffrey felt relieved. Relieved to be alive, not even seriously injured. Relieved to have his friends around. Relieved to be filled with vitality after all those months of hibernation. However, something striked him odd. He hasn't figured it out yet. The one thing he was sure about was that something was just not right.
Elizabeth came to the hospital as soon as she had gotten the call. She had always dreaded taking a call like this; the call to inform about her husband being injured in the line of duty – or worse. Sitting in the waiting room without knowing any details was torture.
She shed tears of relief and joy when she was informed on Peter's medical condition, seeing for herself he wasn't hurt seriously. Holding him in her arms was soothing.
After El has checked on Neal and saw he was ok as well, she was in high spirits, chatting all the way home in the car. She seemed to be unaware about her husband keeping silent. Or if she was aware of it, she had chosen not to mention it, but rather giving him instead the time he needed to sort things out.
Peter was lost in thoughts. The bad guys had been caught, evidence been secured, and justice would be served in court. Still, the flush of victory he usually felt after closing a case was missing. Something just didn't feel right.
AN:
Only one more chapter to go. Yeah. Almost there. Thank you all for your reviews and messages. They were absolutely motivating and encouraging during the last months to go on with the story.
So, if you want to know what environmental protection and the contents of Peter's fridge have to do with trust and friendship, and why Shakespeare for once was wrong, don't miss the next and final chapter.