El was staring at the wall, trying to remember everything she'd seen when the thug Brooke had deemed "Tyrell" had temporarily left the door open while he set up the recorder and script for her ransom note: cold gray walls, a glow from what could be a television or computer screen, and shadows all implying that the only way to go was right. Unfortunately, she was also starting to panic, because she knew they were running out of time, especially since when the brute had lost his temper with the blonde's snark and hit her hard enough that she'd practically fallen into El's lap and the brunette had realized that the girl was running a fever.
"Nice touch with the breathing," Brooke panted. "Do you think your husband will figure out where we are?"
"We may not have codes, but no one knows me like Peter," El replied, smiling in spite of everything. "He'll figure it out."
Neither of them voiced the obvious question of whether it would be in time.
"It's probably good you don't have codes," the blonde told her, trying to fill the space. "It implies you don't have this issue to worry about often."
El nodded sympathetically. "I guess it'd be hard being allegedly connected to the mob." She was actually amazed the girl and her father could think of a system that fast.
Brooke chuckled. "Actually, it was my mom. She was a good fence, but more than a little reckless. And she was always paranoid that one of her deals might go wrong and they'd realize I was a way to gain the upper hand. So she got me really into books, and we'd talk about how characters related to real life people. She used them to make all sorts of codes, like a game."
Brooke smiled, then continued. "The first time I was kidnapped, I was twelve."
Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise. "What happened?"
Brooke shrugged. "I panicked, forgot everything. Mom ended up losing a lot of money on the deal to get me back, and we never did business in Vegas again.
"I didn't speak to her for a week, but eventually I accepted the reality of it, and I knew when the next time came, I'd be ready." She scoffed. "Even if she wasn't around to break it down and save me."
El leaned over and pressed her shoulder to the other's for comfort. "Your clues reached Peter. He and Neal will figure it out. We just need to buy them time. So let's figure out how to get out of this."
Brooke sighed. "The hall is long and narrow, and there are only two doors between here and the doofus watching the cameras, both of which are utility closets. You may be able to sneak past him if you crouch low, but the exit has an alarm, and it only leads out into another hallway that's empty except for a couple minutes after the evening rush—I think it's under construction, so maybe maintenance guys?"
The brunette looked at the girl in surprise. "How did you find that out?"
"First twenty-four hours are the most critical for escaping," Brooke answered. "Unfortunately, Tyrell's a lot faster than he looks, and he's not forgiving or gentle." She gestured back to her unnaturally-angled limb. "If the guys out there heard me, they weren't asking any questions."
"How'd you get out the door?" El asked.
"Picked the cuffs and the door," Brooke replied. "Cuffs are easy, plus you know: hair pins. Door's a basic tumbler."
"You can get out of the cuffs?"
In response, Brooke held up her hand, which El realized was missing the metal bracelet still attached to the other.
"If you can do that, then we could sneak out of here," she said excitedly.
Brooke shook her head. "I'm lucky the bone didn't break through the skin—I can barely walk, much less run." She tilted her head in thought. "But maybe if I caused enough of a distraction, you could get out—"
"No," El argued vehemently. "I'm not leaving without you." Not to mention if she left the blonde behind, they would almost certainly kill her.
"Then neither of us are leaving," Brooke told her flatly. "Because I can guarantee you, I'm not winning any races on this."
"How much time do you think we have left?" El asked, racking her brains for an idea.
Brooke shrugged, using her free hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead. "Maybe another couple hours—maybe."
"Then maybe we can get another message out instead."
Peter was hard at work, but something felt off. Rice had been questioning him about everything from the case. He'd repeated everything from every phone call between himself and Keller. He'd gone over all of the details about the dock and the treasure over and over. He'd put himself through all of the motions of checking up on everyone on his team: Jones had calculated the time the subway had passed the area, and Diana was matching it up against terminals with restricted access located away from heavy foot traffic; Rice was with Hughes, breaking down the FBI setup at the docks, and Neal—
"Where's Neal?" Peter asked, practically smacking himself in the head for only now realizing that his con/ sort-of-partner was apparently nowhere in sight.
"I sent him home with agents sitting on him," Rice replied, steering the agent into Hughes' office. "He's not going anywhere today."
"What do you mean? We need him to make contact with Keller," Peter argued. He looked to Hughes for support. "Neal knows Keller better than anyone, and we need him for this."
Hughes shook his head. "Neal's too close to this Peter; he's not thinking straight, and with the treasure destroyed, he doesn't have anything to bargain with this time." He placed his hand in a comforting gesture on the other man's shoulder. "Don't worry; we have a plan—"
"A plan that Keller's going to see coming from a mile away!" Burke interjected. "We need Neal to buy us some time; FBI agents are just going to get Elizabeth killed—"
"Caffrey's emotions are compromising this case, Agent Burke," Rice spoke up. "And honestly, so are yours. I don't know about you, but last time I let Caffrey off of his anklet to meet up with an ex-partner, I almost ended up losing him and my hostage. This game's too dangerous to make such a risky play—we're going to do it by protocol."
"Keller doesn't play by protocol," Peter told them heatedly. He looked incredulously at his boss and the agent in charge. "All you are going to accomplish by keeping me and Neal out is letting Keller escape again and killing my wife and Brooke Werner in the process." Peter gave them an accusing stare as he picked up his coat and left the building, ignoring the agents that shadowed him with a gesture from Rice.
A/N: So, especially after this chapter, I'm starting to think Brooke is sounding a little schizo- I mean, does she want to escape or just wait for someone to rescue her? And my only answer is that she's hurt, she's sick, and she's been there a week, so give her (and me) a break and allow that she's doing the best she can; and since El's never been in this situation, she's a little indecisive about what to do herself. There :)
A/A/N: In case I lost any of you- the Feds are playing the setup as the docks where the U-boat was stored as where this all started. Neal, on the other hand, may have a different location in mind (as we'll see)...