A puddle of Persian Blue with a terminally self-satisfied expression reclined in Mozzie's arms, purring deeply enough that Neal was sure he could feel the floorboards vibrating. He stared into its little yellow eyes and then looked up at its personal transportation. "You realise they won't believe I actually threatened your cat? And … where do you even get a cat at nine o'clock at night?"
Mozzie shot him a flat look and then lowered the animal onto the couch, where it kneaded happily for a few moments before settling regally on the only pillow. "This is Mr. SchmooDeFluffikins – no relation. I've been feeding him while Mrs. Henderson is on vacation. Mrs. Henderson? The one with that thing in her-"
"Right, right." Neal waved the impending reminder off - he knew all he'd ever need to know about Mrs. Henderson's thing. "Vacation, huh? Good for her." Neal shot another look at the cat and then tried for a reasonable, enquiring tone; one which didn't suggest in any way that he thought the hamster of Mozzie's brain had fallen off its wheel. "And Mr. – that – is here, because, why?"
"I thought you'd enjoy the company: you both have so much in common." Mozzie smiled thinly in the face of Neal's confusion. "You're both easily bored, you're both really picky eaters … and neither of you can schedule a courier pick up from this location."
Mozzie dropped his suspiciously full-looking bag to the floor; it landed with a heavy thud. "We can't send the bonds out," he finished.
Neal smiled cautiously and hoped for a punch line. "Out … tonight? Out tomorrow?"
"I called local, national and international, they all declined to collect from this address. One hung up on me - very rude. And, you know, I have to say this is typical of the Feds: turning the system on the little man, denying him access to basic human rights, like twenty-four hour courier services that don't ask questions."
Neal wandered back to the window; the sedan outside did look strangely smug. "That's … inconvenient."
Warming to his favorite subject, Mozzie raised a finger to stab at the air. "That's the conspiracy, my friend. If the Feds can put a blanket no collect on this street, what else do you think they can do? You believe me now?"
"I always believe you, Moz," Neal said as sincerely as possible, "but we still need a Plan B. Where are our exits?"
"Sewer access is too far away and going out the back puts us in that alley that opens just up from them. We can't get into our neighbors from out there either. Next time, we pick the location."
Next time, Neal privately agreed.
Next time they wouldn't use someone else's workspace just to maintain a cover and, next time, he wouldn't go along with Kate playing the shill, however much of a payout she thought she could get.
"I could smuggle the bonds out," he suggested, but without much enthusiasm.
"Risky. Very risky. Take a cab and you're a sitting duck. We're off the main pedestrian traffic route, so there's no way to blend into a crowd if you walk.
"I suppose you could pay some random person to pick up the bonds, but even assuming you could trust them, which you couldn't, anyone going in or out of here is suspect now. All Burke would have to do is claim he saw a gun, make a search and you're in cuffs before you can say 'wrongful arrest.'"
"He wouldn't do that," Neal said confidently, but the certainty diminished as Mozzie's eyebrows rose. "Probably," he amended. "He probably wouldn't do that. Okay, what if we both go out? They'll follow me, so you take the bonds."
"You know how I've never been arrested? By not doing anything that stupid," Mozzie said irritably as he flipped open his bag.
"Tetchy," Neal returned mildly as he inched closer and tried to get a look inside.
Mysterious items appeared and disappeared and he watched, mesmerized. Normally the inside of the bag was off-limits and Neal had a healthy respect for Mozzie's idea of vengeance - he wasn't going to go where he wasn't invited. Right now, the contents mostly seemed to involve cat toys and some kibble. So that was a little disappointing.
He pulled off his hat and spun it between his fingers until the ribbon was a dark blue blur. "How about something like we pulled in Atlanta? With the van and the manhole cover?"
"Burke won't fall for that twice." Mozzie poured a carefully exact amount of the dry food into his palm; Mr. SchmooDeFluffikins rose majestically to his feet and padded over like he was doing them a favor.
Neal had forgotten how much he liked cats.
"Yeah, actually I'm a little surprised he fell for it the first time," he said and grinned nostalgically at the memory; the grin faded as he remembered the business at hand. "Send the bonds out with the trash, steal them back later?"
He sent the hat tumbling down his outstretched arm and then caught it by the brim as he gave Mozzie a winning smile. "It's a classic."
Mozzie stared up at him and said nothing; Neal suspected an idea was probably pretty bad when it wasn't even worth dignifying with an insult.
"Yeah, never mind." He slipped the hat back onto his head and saw the faint glimmer of a better plan. "How about a theft? We don't have to actually do it, just put the word out and let them worry about that while we put things here to bed. What's in town right now?"
"Like you don't know." Mozzie began ticking off the paintings on his fingers anyway. "There's a Matisse, a Stieglitz, and a nice little Cezanne … but are you really sure you want to try and play Burke like this?"
No, not even a little bit, because try would be the operative word. "Do you have another option?"
Mozzie pursed his lips and then shook his head.
Neal grinned and tried not to over-amp a facade of confidence right into panic. "How's your Russian?"
"Prekrasnah."
"Excellent."
"Exactly." Mozzie stood and brushed his hands free of stray crumbs. "I'll start putting the word out. Give it a couple of weeks to filter back to the Feds so they're not too suspicious about the timing. Hope Kate can swing that."
When Mozzie had left, Neal watched the cat disappear under the table and then dialed Kate's number.
The call was picked up on the second ring. "Caitlin Eloff."
She sounded singsong sweet and her accent was from a completely different continent, but it made him smile just hearing her voice. "Who's with you?"
"Oh, I'm just with some friends – you sound weird, is everything okay?"
"The bonds are finished, but we're being watched and we can't courier them out. We're going to try a diversion, but it could take a couple of weeks."
"Okay, okay – listen, don't panic. I'll – just wait a minute, I'll be right back." Kate sighed heavily and the earpiece scratched as – he guessed - she pretended to smother her cell with her palm. He could still hear as she explained to someone, "My sister's just walked out on her husband and, look, there's crying, it's crazy. I'll be right back, bokkie - don't start without me, now."
He couldn't make out the actual words of the men responding, but the tone sounded amenable enough. A door closed and then the line cleared again. "I'm your sister?" he asked. "That's a little disturbing."
Kate sniffed delicately. "There are two things men don't want anything to do with, the second one is crying women."
Neal nodded, that was true for the most part. "What's the first one?"
"Remember when you just couldn't resist going through my purse?"
He remembered. Oh, he remembered. "Never mind."
"It's Burke?"
"Yeah, and with a new partner."
"What did you send them this time?" Kate asked with perfectly pitched resignation – just the right amount of fondness mixed with the concern.
Neal considered telling her how much he loved her, but it probably wasn't the right time. "Pizza," he confessed instead.
"We talked about this," she said more sharply. "You can't keep sending-"
"I know, I know, but I can't send salad again: he'll think I don't like him anymore."
"They're sitting in that car for hours every day," she scolded, fully committed now. "They need to eat healthily. Send a fruit basket. I know he followed you home, but you can only keep him if you look after him properly."
Kate broke first and giggled under her breath; Neal grinned and felt ten times better; she had the most infectious laugh he'd ever heard.
"You think you can sell them on a couple more weeks?" he asked when the giggles stopped. "Tell them McManus needs to get a part for the press or something."
"They're already pretty skittish that McManus dropped out of sight; they keep asking to see him."
Neal grimaced. "Well they can't see him, he's in Argentina or something. What are you telling them?"
"That he's reclusive, that genius has its own way of working. But they're already pushing, delaying again will only make them even more suspicious than they already are."
He frowned and cast a reproachful look out the window. "Can you walk? We'll figure something out when you're clear."
"No, we play this out," she said without hesitation. "We do it right and we're set for life."
"A really short life. I don't like this."
"We can't run, Neal. We run and we really are dead. Get the bonds, okay?"
"I miss you," he managed, just before she hung up.
Once he'd exhausted the possibilities of reading, card tricks and losing King of the Hill with the cat, there wasn't a lot to do except to try and sleep. He surrendered the spring-laden couch and stretched out on the floor with his hat drawn over his eyes and his hand resting on the cell phone.
It rang again an hour later, interrupting a light doze and waking Schmoo, who at some point had decided Neal's chest was the most comfortable place to be – or possibly just wanted to cement a victory. At least that explained why his dreams had felt strangely claustrophobic.
He tried to shove the cat away, but gave up when claws extended into his shirt and pricked at his skin.
With a glare in the face of its calm tranquility, he checked the caller ID and then flipped the cell open. "Did they agree?"
"Not entirely, Mr. Caffrey. We have business to conclude."
Neal pushed the cat away and sat up quickly. "I'm sorry," he said smoothly. "Who is this?"
"I think we're past introductions now, don't you? We know McManus brought you in to finish what he couldn't and we know you did. Let's move on."
Neal brought a knee up and draped his arm over it, hat in hand. He forced the assumed relaxation into his tone, kept it light and almost careless. "All right. So where's Kate?"
The man – Torrio, Neal guessed – didn't miss a beat. "That depends. Where's my package?"
"The package is ready, but the FBI is watching the building and they've blacklisted us with the courier firms."
"The price agreed included delivery." There was some murmuring in the background and then, "However, we are willing to renegotiate. Give us the location and we'll retrieve the package."
"How?"
"I really don't see how that concerns you. We get our merchandise and you get your partner. Or is it girlfriend?"
Neal ignored that and injected a note of persuasion into his tone. "This is blown, let it go – it's not worth it. Give me a month and you'll get what you want, no hassles."
"Into every life a little hassle must fall and I don't think Caitlin, or whoever she is, would enjoy our company for a whole month - it's wearing on her already."
Neal dug his nails into his palm and forced an indifferent smile. Expressions were the key – if the expression was right, the pitch would follow. "You're making a mistake, Torrio. But, whatever, it's your mistake to make. Send the girl back with the money, I'll leave the package in the warehouse."
There was a rustle and indistinct voices as Torrio conferred again; Neal closed his eyes and listened to the cat pick at the couch. The voice came back on the line, harder this time. "The girl comes with us to collect the package. When we have it, you get her and your money. Less our finders fee, of course, for taking care of your distribution problems."
Somehow, Neal had gone from doing a favor for a friend to planning the murder of at least two Federal agents. This really wasn't shaping up as one of his better schemes. He cleared his throat to let that cover for any tightness in his tone and suggested, "Tomorrow morning? Say, ten? If you're going to deal with the problem, I need time to make exit arrangements."
"Get them into the building, we'll take it from there." The cell went to dial tone and Neal went to the window; the sedan looked innocently back.
He quick-dialed Mozzie without looking; there was something to be said for muscle memory. "We have a problem."
"Oh good, because I was just thinking I didn't have enough of those."
"Torrio figured it out."
"You think Kate told him?" Mozzie asked, carefully without inflection.
"Why would she do that?"
There was a pause and then, "Did you want a list?"
Neal rolled his eyes. "Let me rephrase: she didn't do that. Torrio's coming to the warehouse tomorrow morning, we have to get Burke and the other guy gone before ten or Torrio will do it his way.
"I figure, you could leave carrying a box, they follow you and I'll give Torrio the bonds and get Kate."
"The Feds won't fall for something like that and you know as well as I do Torrio isn't going to just let you two walk away with grateful thanks for a job well done."
Yeah, Neal did. "Push the Russian."
"It's too soon," Mozzie cautioned.
"I know. Do it." There was always that outside chance Burke had suffered a debilitating head injury since Neal had last seen him.
