He pressed his back to the wall and waited… waited for the door to slam open… waited to see who would step through…for the bullet that he knew was coming…
The crash of the toppling filing cabinet echoed in the nearly empty room and Neal held his breath as a man stepped into the room…Johnny Richards… he remembered Richards… numbers guy… small time… always had a big smile… nice enough. Neal almost didn't recognize him without the smile. The look of absolute hate in those eyes was as foreign to the face he remembered as ice to the Sahara, yet there it was… simmering in those gold brown eyes, a volcano ready to rain destruction on the man before them.
"Where is the boy?"
"What boy?" Neal tried for innocence, but Richards knew
"You're SON, Nick…" Richards glared "let's be honest now"
"I don't have any children." He eyed the gun in the man's hands… the four large men behind him… four very large men with guns that resembled cannons to his eyes.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"The feds scooped me up, told me someone took a kid and demanded I come up with the three million dollar ransom… naturally I was curious."
"So you came snooping around… right…"
"You kidnapped a child….!"
"Your child…" Richards smiled now, but it made Neal's blood run cold. That brutal icy curve of his lips did not in the slightest resemble the easy grin he remembered. "Don't play dumb… you think I haven't been watching from the moment you knew he was in danger…"
"Why?"
"I think you know the answer to that."
"I don't…" he thought of his past association with the man…surely this couldn't be about the twenty thousand dollars he talked Johnny into investing in a bogus company…that was virtually nothing.
"You took something precious from me, I'm going to return the favor."
"I don't know what you're talking-." His voice cut off abruptly as Johnny hit him
"I want you to know what you are before you die… you are a murderer Nick… and I'm your executioner…" Neal gulped nervously… as Richards stepped close to him. The next words were barely audible "and rest assured, I will find the boy and when I do… I will kill him too."
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His mind was swirling… Nathen's words rattling in his head…They had guns…he was bleeding… Peter needed to move… to go find his friend…he was bleeding… but he also needed some idea what he was going to find, how badly was the younger man hurt? Had he sent the boy out the window alone because he was physically unable to follow? If he had been shot… he could be dying, could already be…
"He was bleeding, Nathen… Where? Could you see where he was hurt?" the little boy shook his head…
"It was a lot of blood. It was dripping off his hand. It got on me when he picked me up" Peter saw it now, on the left side of the boy's shirt… nearly dried, rust brown…he swallowed. This was actually good news, he told himself, running down his arm probably meant nothing vital was hit though he could be losing a dangerous amount of blood…
"How much blood Nathen? Did he look weak? Pale? Was he…?" Peter stopped, realizing he was questioning a terrified seven year old like a suspect.
"I don't know. I'm sorry… I'm sorry. I was so scared and…" The child's eyes were huge. He was shivering. He looked like he expected to be hit, tears filled those eyes, but somehow the little boy kept them from falling.
"It's ok, Nathen… It's ok. Thank you." He hesitated, uncertain… he needed to get to Neal, but he also needed to take care of the little boy. Nathen was visibly shaking, his eyes, bright blue eyes, all too familiar seemed to fill his whole face, his skin washed out with fear and exhaustion… he looked to thin and Peter couldn't help looking at the livid bruise on his cheek… the bruises that peaked out from beneath his shirt sleeves, shirt sleeves in this weather. He glanced at the icy snow that misted in the freezing wind outside. The boy definitely needed to be checked out at the ER, but Peter couldn't leave rescuing his reckless CI to the younger agents… he couldn't leave Nathen with just anyone either, after all the kidnapper knew how to contact Neal… the implication of that had him watching his team with suspicion and he definitely didn't like that feeling. He looked around…
"Diana?" she was already stepping forward laying her hand gently on Nathen's head.
"I'll take care of the boy, Boss"
"Thank you"
"Go get Caffrey before he gets himself hurt."
"Might be too late for that."
"What do you mean…?" he gulped. She hadn't heard what Nathen said.
"Nathen said he was bleeding when he left, that the men chasing them had guns."
"D***" she studied Peter for a second then "I'm sure he'll be fine…" she tried for a smile…
"Yeah…Diana… get Nathen checked out. Then take him to see his parents as soon as you can."
"On it." She knelt beside the little boy as Peter turned to get his team moving again. He was nearly to his car when he heard running footsteps behind him. Turning back he caught a glimpse of the small form before skinny arms wrapped around his legs…
"Nathen!" Diana's voice echoed in the parking structure… Peter attempted to extradite himself from the strong grasp of the frightened child…
"Nathen." he said "I need you to let go." He told the boy awkwardly. "I have to go help Neal"
"But he told me to find agent Peter and stay with you" the kid choked out, still trying not to cry.
"And…" Peter studied Nathen, trying to think what to say. He needed to be moving "and you did great Nathen, but now I'm telling you to stay with Diana."
"Diana?" he glanced back at that woman approaching them with a glare. The boy gulped.
"Yes, with Diana… she's going to take care of you…" Diana's expression was a perfect mix of frustration and amusement as she neared the pair.
"Sorry Boss…"she shook her head "I forgot whose son he is for a second… I took my eyes off him for a moment and he was gone." She grabbed Nathen's hand with a firm, gentle grasp… "I've got him now" Peter smiled faintly at her comment and nodded his thanks as he scrambled into his car. Looking back he saw the tears finally escape those hauntingly familiar blue eyes
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This part of the basement was even more worn and dilapidated than the part he'd seen before. The carpet had been ripped up in places and the air was stale and smelled of mildew. Most of the bulbs were burned out and those that still gave light were weak and flickering. If Neal had to guess he'd say they were near the back of the building, it was cold down here or maybe he was just nervous…
They shoved him into a nearly dark room. One of the goons pushed him firmly back against the wall and held him there with a grip of iron, the gash on his arm throbbed in protest… a trickle of blood seeped out again as it was crushed in the man's hands.
Richards stepped forward and Neal shuddered as the man waved the gun in his face.
"Don't move."
"Not planning on it while you have that." A gesture and the thug let him go
"Good… now strip."
"Pardon me?"
"Jacket, shirt, pants, shoes off"
"Are you crazy?" the manic glint in Richards' eyes answered that question. Neal closed his eyes and gingerly did as he was told in a few seconds he stood in the cold room wearing just his undershirt, socks and underwear. He shivered... glanced at the tear in the skin of his arm, almost an inch deep and three or four inches long, definitely going to need stitches... it burned fiercely, but it wasn't going to kill him...
Richards's eyes darkened as they fell on the tracker…
"What's that?" Neal followed his gaze
"Tracking anklet…"
"That could be a problem." And with that Richards spun away and stalked out of the room…
A moment later he was back … wielding a baseball bat. Neal had one second to register his blind terror before the bat made contact with the tracker with a horrible crunch of plastic and bone. Then all other thoughts were lost in the agonizing pain that shot through his ankle and dropped him to his knees. Richards swung again and again…until the tracker fell away shattered… Neal lay on the floor… gasping.
"Problem solved."