(Chapter 7)
Peter dreamed he was calling for someone, his chest hurting as he ran after them but they seemed to be too far ahead to hear him. His hand reached out to grab their arm and then suddenly he was awake, his head aching, chest tight as he wheezed slightly and finally glanced around at where he was. The area was small, roughly 5x4 feet, dimly lit and gray metal. His eyes took in the details a moment before he realized what it was he was staring at: Ducts.
"Neal?"
He whispered, remembering why he was there and wondering as he sat up where his friend had gone.
"Neal?"
Peter didn't hear anything but the quiet sounds of air blowing through, cool from the feel of it as he shivered, pulling the item from beneath his head around him. It was Neal's shirt, the soft smell of his cologne evident as the agent sighed. He should have been stronger and stayed alert to ward his friend off going alone. Neal was probably ok. The con probably went to see where the exit was or maybe... maybe something else had happened. Hadn't he mentioned looking for Mozzie? With a bit of a second wind now Peter started crawling along the ducts hoping to find his friend and maybe a way out. He needed to contact help before they were all dead. Jaren would never keep his promise to them. Once Neal brought the forged painting back even if Jaren never knew it was a fake, they'd all be dead.
He's pretty resilient for a mousy guy. I wonder why the con hangs with him? Doesn't seem like much.
The voices carried from not too far ahead, Peter pausing to listen wondering who they were talking about as he saw a bit more light some feet ahead. He moved closer and peered through the grating curious.
"He's not going to last much longer but Jaren wants Caffrey to see them die before he kill the con. I can't wait to kill the Fed."
The voices laughed, only vague overhead views of their heads apparent and one other with a bag over their head as they dunked them into a tub of water. The figure made little noise but seemed to be struggling. Maybe they were gagged? He felt anger but what could he do under the circumstances? He heard the sound of a door opening off to the left and saw more heads, one of them sighing tiredly.
"Ash, what's wrong?"
The new person wearing a ball cap shook his head.
"Leave him there. We have other business."
The two goons with the hooded captive nodded and left without another thought for the poor person there below. Peter thought he should know them as the door shut and he kicked the vent open, slipping through. There was a faucet in the corner and his mouth suddenly felt very parched as he realized he hadn't had much water or food the past few days. His first thoughts were of sating his thirst but his inner boy scout wanted to help this person, whoever they were. They leaned forward, head just over the large half barrel he'd been dunked into. At the very least he could tell they were male but nothing else as he noticed they were bound like Neal had been, their hands pushed back through the slats of the chair and zip-tied. He needed something to free them as he glanced over and saw a small stool with a toolbox on top. He fumbled inside of it and found a utility knife, reaching over to cut the bag from their head when the figure head-butted him hard, Peter falling to the floor dazed as the knife fell from his hand and slid a few feet away. He had already cut a good chunk of the bag away, his vision blurry as he lay on the cold stone floor a moment.
"Mmmphmm mmm mmmph!"
Peter didn't understand what they were saying, his head still reeling from the skull to skull contact when he tried to get up and they stuck out a leg and kicked him hard. He caught his hand on the edge of the water barrel and tried to stay upright but his leg gave out and he fell, the containing falling over with him and spilling water all around the room as he collapsed to the floor and lay there tiredly. His gaze went up to the figure, the bag now partially revealing two squinty eyes that normally wore glasses, which were beside the figure on the stool with the toolbox. Peter only just noticed and it seemed the bound figure was realizing their mistake too.
"Mmmph mmmth Mmp?"
His head and body weren't wanting to respond but he had no choice, the cold water making the floor that much colder and waking him up a bit as he sat up and nodded.
"Give me a second."
Peter moved over to the figure cautiously and removed the tape, the figure spitting out several rags and coughing as they finally spoke.
"Suit! I am so sorry I uhm head-butted you. I thought you were one of those ruffians. Are you ok? Wait... you're awake!"
Mozzie was finally putting things together, Peter certain he knew how he felt being out of the loop on things as he stood up with shaky legs and found the knife again, moving over to cut the little guy loose and remove the last bit of the sack from around the con's head.
"Yeah... I'm... awake. Now I know why you're so stubborn."
Peter was rubbing his head, a bruise forming where he could see in the water's reflection, a slight flush of embarrassment by Mozzie.
"Very funny Suit... Where's Neal? How did you get here on your own? You have some of the Suits coming to help, right?"
The little guy was asking too many questions for a man who had just nearly been drowned by two goons and to a man who was lucky to be alive. Peter moved over to the faucet, turned it on and once he realized the water was fresh he started to drink hungrily. When he was done, Mozzie waiting patiently for his reply to his questions.
"1. I don't know 2. I'm not sure 3. I don't think they know where we are and 4... We need to get out of here now."
Mozzie agreed as they hoisted themselves up into the vent again and closed it up, Peter still holding the utility knife in hand just in case. Mozzie seemed to have followed his lead and after taking his glasses back and cleaning them with a bit of cursing at the goons leaving them fingerprinted, he was wielding a bit of his own weapon: a claw-head hammer. Now they just had to be patient and hope Neal was headed back as they moved silently through the ventilation system. There must be an exit from the building through here somewhere.
"Suit... I smell the Hudson."
Peter blinked, watching the little guy scoot past him as he tried to keep up. They came to a grating that had recently been tampered with, skid marks on the metal where someone may have tried to take hold unsuccessfully. There was also a hint of blood outside, small drops meaning a non-fatal injury but it worried the agent and apparently didn't escape the eyes of Mozzie who was glancing at it too.
"Probably... nothing."
They pried the grating open without much effort, the bolts already loose as they stepped out into the early evening air, the smell of moisture more evident now. There was the sound of a buoy nearby, ringing softly as it rocked in the breeze somewhere close. Peter didn't recognize the area but figured it must be in the warehouse district at the very worse. The fresh air made his head reel a bit, and maybe it was because he felt a bit more secure now he started to feel faint, Mozzie catching him before he hit the ground.
"Not yet Suit... just a little longer and you can pass out with the other Suits or your wife."
The little guy was trying to help, Peter nodding tiredly as they limped around the corner from this little dead end alleyway and paused. There were voices and the sound of something being dragged.
"Doesn't matter where they are... Mr. Caffrey is going to get me that painting. I can take others with him just as easily. Make sure it's armed. When he wakes up, he will have to make a choice: Blow himself up or take others with him. We'll see just how selfless the con is."
There was a slam and then the sound of car doors shutting and silence before they heard an engine rev and head towards them. Mozzie pulled Peter back out of sight behind a nearby wall as the cars went by and they saw Jaren in one and the other goons following. Neal was in deep, whatever was going on.
"Suit... what do you think they meant by make sure it's armed? It didn't sound like they were talking about weapons."
Peter didn't know what to think, his head still splitting from everything and then the head butting and now... now worry about his friend and partner.
"Hey! YOU!"
Peter blinked seeing one of the goons had stayed behind, running towards him. He was feeling faint, that fight or flight feeling not coming to him in his weakened condition. Right now all he wanted to do was sit or sleep, his head swimming as the man got closer and grabbed his arm, shaking him hard. It didn't last long, the man's words not getting through as he watched the figure blur. After a minute the man stiffened, the sound of something hitting bone loud enough as the goon slumped and fell down and Peter saw Mozzie there with the hammer in hand. The little guy shrugged.
"Uhm... self-defense. Let me see if he has a phone."
The little guy got to poking through the unconscious goon's pockets while Peter leaned back against the wall and slowly slipped down to the ground until he realized he was looking up at Mozzie, vision starting to gray.
"Suit... stay with me. Wow! He has an iPhone. Always wanted one of these... Let's see. Geesh! That was an easy code to figure out... now to call in the troops. Is Jr and Lady Suit up and about? Peter? Hey... Wake up..."
The voice faded away, echoing as if he were moving back into a cavern and finally darkness enfolded him and he was out like a light.
()()()
Jones was headed back to the Bureau with Blake, exhaustion hitting him as he realized he might have tried to do too much too soon. The hike around the old quarry had worn him out more than he figured and reminded him he had only recently gotten over that poison Jaren had given them. He knew it was botulism but it had hit him and Diana harder than anything, his mind still fuzzy with memories of blurry figures moving around and monitors beeping as they kept them temporarily alive. That's what had saved them in the end despite their captor wanting to kill them.
He sighed, leaning back in the seat when his cell rang. He wasn't expecting any calls and figured it must be someone from work but the number wasn't recognizable.
"Jones..."
He was hesitant but then he heard that oddly familiar voice which made him blink in response.
"Jr. Suit! Need you here now. They took Neal and it's just me and the Suit here. He's not doing so well. (Stay down you!)"
There was a loud THUNK and then a groan before it was quiet again and Jones wasn't sure what to think about it. He thought a moment before replying.
"Mozz? Uhm... put Peter on the line."
There was silence again and he was about to say something else when the little guy answered.
"He's out cold as is the goon that came after us. Need you here yesterday if possible along with the rest of the Suit army."
The little guy sounded desperate and he must have been to call him but then it was Peter. Blake was glancing back at him through through the rear-view mirror as he nodded finally.
"Ok, we're almost to town. Where abouts are you, Mozz?"
()()()
Earlier...
Neal left his friend reluctantly, finding all the vents leading to locked rooms. He didn't want to be trapped at Jaren's whim again as he continued through the ducts and hoping he'd find a way out. It was when he thought about turning back that he smelled it. It was water but more than that... it was the Hudson River, something all New Yorkers knew by heart. He smiled, glad to have an exit and hoping it really was just that as he found himself rounding the curve and seeing the grating ahead. Outside was the sound of wind, the not so sweet smell of the river and it seemed clear escape to somewhere out of Jaren's grasp. He smiled broadly, opening up the grate with some effort and getting the bolts loose. He kicked it open, Neal slipping out of the hole when he was grabbed, Hands reaching for him.
"Get him!"
The con fought, taking hold of the duct but his fingers scraped audibly across the smooth surface finding no hold and then going slack as something hit him hard across the base of his skull and he slumped. He was only just conscious of strong hands holding him, keeping him mostly upright as something warm dripped down the back of his neck. Neal was unable to respond or move, his body loose and relaxed despite his mind screaming out in silent defiance. Blurry forms moved before his still partially opened eyes and he thought he smelled that tobacco smell he remembered from before. Jaren was nearby.
Good. He's still with us. I thought you'd killed him for a moment, Jake. Now, get him rigged up and once he's back up we'll explain the rules to him.
That was the last thing he heard as darkness washed across him and he passed out.
Neal was dreaming, his mind taking him back to Avery's vault and one of the first cases he worked undercover with Peter. They were angry at each other, mostly he was angry with the agent for hiding Kate. The picture told him everything as he acted passive-aggressive with the man he later called friend and partner.
You have Kate! I saw the ring!
Peter looked at him as if he were insane, telling him to behave until the case was over. It was as if the agent was on his side, protecting him and yet... he was so angry! He wanted to hurt the man who had his one true love. He had to see Kate but he followed Peter's lead despite his anger and played the game through. He was still angry but something told him to listen to the agent and slowly it hit him. They were in the vault and Peter had come to warn him. Why would he help if he had Kate? Why bother helping the man he was conning and then he realized this was all wrong. Neal had it all wrong. His breath was coming in wheezy gasps, Peter had the little device with 5 minutes of air and Neal... he was choking, hitting the wall with his hand as loudly and hard as he could to get the agent's attention. He found the kill switch... suddenly everything went black.
Breath...
Neal fought to do as the voice said, waking up to pain as he felt himself lean over to the side and wretch. His hands were bound before him, cuffed securely. It wasn't something he couldn't break out of but he was too weak at the moment to do much. Someone clapped, the sound making him feel more nauseated as he glanced up and saw Jaren glancing with a cold smile at him.
"Welcome back, Mr. Caffrey... Neal. I hope you're conscious because I'm only going to explain this once."
Where were they? He glanced around and saw he was in a parking garage that seemed more than familiar to him. His eyes widened but more so as he became conscious of something around his neck and chest. He was wearing something bulky, heavy but hidden beneath a thick vest, his wrists cuffed in front which made things all the more suspicious. Jaren just smiled.
"You'll see Neal that I have you fitted with a toy of mine. I intend to get what I asked for. You have four hours to get inside, grab the Degas and get it back to me. Am I clear?"
The man was insane, smiling brightly as if he'd just ask the con to go buy him a quart of milk and some bread at the market. He was missing and if his message got through as he had hoped, El had informed everyone what was going on. They would stop him on the spot and ask about Peter but he didn't know if his friend was really safe. If they found him they might have Peter captive again and Mozz... where was the little guy?
"You're hesitating. Are you uncertain of something, Neal? If you're uncertain, trigger the bomb now. Kill us by freeing yourself of the handcuffs and activating it on us. I know you want to."
Jaren was pushing his buttons as he quickly worked on unlatching the cuffs. Nothing happened, his captor laughing.
"It's not armed yet but it will be once you leave here. Cuff him again."
Neal growled at the man's happy demeanor, someone slapping him to behave but he kept a narrow glance on the crook. Jaren clucked his tongue back.
"Shame... if not for certain loyalties, I'd have taken you into the fold but I said that before didn't I? A tamed con man is not something I can abide by or a Fed who sees shades of gray. You have a chance to help your friends by doing this one thing. You want to help your friends, don't you?"
He paused, giving Neal a long steady once over.
"Go inside the building, Neal. Find the painting. Your friends are depending on you."
He had no words to answer except to nod, fearing he would reach up and rip the man's head off but knowing he might do damage to the agents he saw walking not too far away inside the garage. They didn't know he was here or what was hidden in this darkened SUV which looked like the others in the garage. Jaren had done well to disguise themselves as just another Federal vehicle.
"Go, Caffrey. Bring me my prize."
()()()
Neal was afraid, uncertain what to do as he was pushed from the vehicle at gunpoint and moved towards the elevator at the end of the garage. Maybe he was a coward after all as he continued walking, hands cuffed before him but he couldn't free himself without blowing up the entire parking area if not himself. If Jaren had his friends, he would be dead and nobody the wiser he didn't just do it to spite his supposed keepers. Jaren had planned well Neal thought as he ground his teeth and called for the elevator. He paused, remembering something as the car came and he glanced back briefly before entering the elevator and the doors shut.
He held his breath, trying to think of something to do besides what he had planned. He could do this and screw Jaren over but not before he knew where Peter and Mozzie were. Once he knew they were safe, he would go through with his plan. It was all he could think of at the moment as the cab kept going. He got off on the roof and then hoofed it back down to Evidence which was only two floors down. It was after 5 PM so most agents had gone home except for a few working late on cases still in progress. The law didn't rest apparently. The vest he had on was built into a nice jacket like he normally wore with a suit. It was padded looking but not dangerous like the usual suicide bomber type outfit most people thought of. Jaren was smart and he had worked his plan out pretty well to have it set up like this.
"Gleason, come over here."
Neal saw the one person watching the evidence desk move aside towards another man behind a small cubicle. He waited until they were behind the partition before he slipped into the evidence room and ducked behind the already open door.
"Did you hear that?"
He heard a new voice speak, not the man who had called the agent and waited as he heard the squeak of a chair and then a sigh.
"Probably the rats in the wall... now pay attention..."
The voices kept on as if nothing were wrong, Neal sighing inwardly before slipping quietly over through the lockers. He was certain they kept the picture here, Peter seemingly in agreement but who knows what Kramer would have done with it if it wasn't here. It was the only thing that could save his friends if he could find it. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. It was only 25 minutes into the 4 hours. He could get this over quickly without anyone the wiser.
"Let me look in the back. I think we had one of those in stock."
Neal froze as the voice grew closer, looking around until he found a huge trunk and ducked inside, closing the lid over himself. Footsteps passed the huge box and then leave after the sound of something being moved. The voices came back but were distant again as he moved to open the trunk and get out. The lid was stuck, Neal pushing up on the box with all his might but with his wrists handcuffed he couldn't do much, finally giving up as he realized he was trapped.
Technically he could remove the cuffs without any issue but they were the fail-safe to setting off the explosives he was forced to wear. If he removed one he was dead along with anyone on this floor. There was enough explosives to do more damage possibly but he hadn't had a chance to analyze the amount other than to know by smell and feel it was C-4. At Least it was something stable and wouldn't blow up unless ignited by the actual firing device. He wasn't sure if it was on a timer for 4 hours or not. Jaren hadn't told him that much and he hadn't seen any obvious clock or sound indicating such a device. Neal started to sweat, wondering if he should just let the two agents know he was there but then there were be questions and he didn't have time for that. Peter and Mozzie were depending on him. Jaren had them for all he knew and he wasn't going to take a chance otherwise. He had nothing to pick at the lock for the trunk and it was sealed off on the inside but for a bit of light through one crack in the lid. He sighed, waiting a few minutes if not longer. What time was it?
Sir... I thought... Yes, I can find it for you. Yes... over here.
The voices were muted but coming closer, the one he thought belonged to Agent Gleason coming closer.
"I'm glad you're doing better, Sir. Agent Jones, let me get that for you."
Jones?
Neal perked up, having felt like he could fall asleep as he tried to find a hole to see who was coming closer, footsteps approaching.
"Here? Thank you, Agent Gleason."
He heard them talking again and then footsteps leaving, one set as the other seemed to shadow over him. Who had left? Neal listened when he heard the cough and realized his chance had come.
"Jones?"
There was a sound of someone moving and then a shift as if they turned and a hint of shadow and then light as they move near him. Neal tried again.
"Jones... in here. The trunk!"
Neal hoped he was heard, footsteps coming closer and finally the sound of someone scraping at the top of the box he was in before light hit him and the lid lifted up. He was tired, body cramping up from being in the tight space as he felt a hand grasp his arm and help him up. Neal sat on the edge of the trunk thankful to be free as he gazed into the agent's eyes.
"Neal?"
The agent looked surprised then seemed to get some idea in his head as he went back and closed the door some before talking again.
"What are you doing here? Why were you in that trunk?"
They were keeping their voices low, obviously trying to not attract the attention of the other agents but Jones looked a bit surprised at best, maybe relieved. Neal didn't understand the last part as he pointed at the tube next to the agent.
"Long story but... I need that."
He pointed at the painting that had been spread out from a nearby tube, his forgery of the Degas from the Nazi loot. Jones placed a hand on the painting as if to say he was going to keep him from it at least until he had an explanation. Jones noticed the cuffs but said nothing.
"Tell me why first. I'm supposed to be resting up from our little adventure with Jaren Morrison. I volunteered to come look for Peter and we got your page, or was it Peter? Doesn't matter... we saw the packs and signs you were at the quarry and then..."
Neal was getting frustrated, uncertain how much time he had left after his time in the trunk. Peter and Mozzie's life depended on him. He interrupted the agent.
"Clinton... I need that painting! It's a matter of life or death and I choose not to blow up a building full of agents to prove that Jaren changes his mind on the taking this as ransom for Peter and Mozzie!"
He said it, seeing Jones' face pale, the agent giving a sigh as he reached to touch him but Neal moved back.
"The jacket? Crap, Neal. Let me get you out of those handcuffs..."
The agent was already turning to call Gleason or his buddy back but Neal grabbed his sleeve and shook his head.
"No. That's the trigger if I try to escape. If I pick these everyone here is dead. The jacket is all C-4 far as I can tell. I need the painting to take and trade for Peter and Mozz. Just let me go and this will be over..."
He was pleading with the agent but Clinton shook his head, a hand reaching for his shoulder.
"Jaren messed you over, Caffrey. Peter's ok. So is the little guy. They called me just over an hour ago from some warehouses near the Hudson. Your friend Mozzie... he subdued one of Jaren's men and he told us everything. That's why I was here to get the painting. We figured he would find a way to get to it but wanted to have a trap ready. Looks like he thought three steps ahead of us."
Jones spoke plainly, a soft smile on his face mixed with a frown that showed his sympathy for Neal trying to do the right thing. Jaren had lied to him and now... now he had to take the painting or blow himself up. Either way he was going to possibly die.
"Peter's ok? Where..."
The agent helped him to his feet as he rolled up the forgery and put it in the tube then handed it to him.
"Hospital. Let me call the bomb squad. Jacob is in the building and that way it's not too obvious."
Neal shook his head at first then nodded, his mind remembering what it was he had thought of before.
"The basement... it used to be a bomb / storm shelter at one time?"
Jones was looking at him oddly, his eyes narrowing over the comment.
"Yeah, but why would you ask about... Neal, the last thing I need to tell Peter or your friend Mozzie is that I let you blow yourself up."
Neal pleaded with him, blue eyes shiny with unshed tears.
"Only way, Jones. At least it won't hurt anyone else if Jacobs fails and Jaren won't be any smarter for it. Plus the picture will be gone for good..."
His voice trailed off because it was obvious was he was implying but the agent seemed dead set against it.
"Must be another way. Look, let me see what Jacobs can do. Stay here."
The agent left him, closing the door and locking him in which at the moment seemed quite appropriate. Neal was currently evidence of a sort. He was proof Jaren was just mad enough to kill others to get what he wanted. Evidence the man was ruthless and manic enough to do anything for what he thought was a priceless painting. He found a chair in the corner and sat, body exhausted, mind tired and wishing he could just go to sleep but peoples lives were at stake, his own nothing more than an afterthought in his thoughts as he waited.
oOoOoOo
Author's Note: zOMG! Yes... Neal has been turned into a suicide bomber against his will but at least Peter is ok. Mozzie saved the day on that end but now Neal is stuck in the Bureau knowing the truth and trapped with a bomb ready to explode at any moment. I wonder how this will all turn out. Tune in for the next exciting chapter soon!