"When you said we were going to spend the thief out of hiding, I envisioned something more like a supermarket sweep on Fifth Avenue." Sara stood beside him on a helipad, watching a brand-new helicopter.
"No," Neal said. "Our first purchase should send a clear message we're willing to blow all hundred-twenty-five million."
They did not sell helicopters within his radius, but Peter had agreed to let him out of his radius for lunch with Sara.
"Mozzie didn't seem too pleased we were pulling a con on Vulture," Sara said.
"He has a weakness for notorious scofflaws."
"Mr. and Mrs. Duponte." A man with a smile showing all his teeth approached. "I'm so glad you could make it. The AgustaWestland AW139," he said, gesturing towards the helicopter. "She's the Bentley of the sky. Room for nine in a full-leather interior, multimedia center with active noise control."
"Let's talk cost," Neal said, going straight for the point.
"Fully decked, around twenty million."
"Oh. That's... not really what we had in mind," Sara said.
"We do have some more economical alternatives," the salesman said, sounding a bit disappointed. Neal chuckled.
"Excuse me," he said to Sara, taking the salesman aside. "The problem is volume. We'll need four."
The salesman stared.
"That's eighty million dollars."
"Precisely. Can you deliver?"
"We… Well, of course, Mr. Duponte, of course. It'll take a bit of time to deliver, but certainly. Of course. We go to my office to set up the papers right away. Is a twenty-five percent down payment acceptable to you?"
Neal grinned all over his face.
"Let's make it fifty if it makes the choppers come faster."
The poor salesman saw a hefty bonus for his inner eye, no doubt. Neal almost felt sorry for the man.
In the afternoon, they walked to the most exclusive store there was for women's clothing next.
"It costs over eight thousand," Sara said, turning around in a dress that was exactly her color.
"Let's take one in each color you have," he told the saleswoman.
"We have twenty-four of them, sir."
"Wonderful."
"And that fur coat," Sara said.
"We need fifteen of those."
"I'd rather have some jewelry."
"Darling, you can have that as well."
When they got home, Neal looked at the numbers, and they had spent over eighty-seven million dollars.
When the three wooden sculptures they had bought were delivered, June popped her head inside.
"If you want to go back to prison, why don't you just ask Peter?" she asked, eying the statues. "Instead of having those men getting these hideous things up the staircase."
"Oh, it's not…" Sara started, but she seemed not to know what to say. "It's to lure a thief out. We're not keeping them."
"Good," June said. "I bet they're heavy. I don't want those falling through the floor. I'm glad you didn't buy the marble ones."
"Relax, June," Neal smiled. "Just having a little fun, that's all."
"Don't fun yourself to prison, Neal. It would break my heart."
"I'll do my best." They hug each other. June was the mother he wished he had had when he was younger too.
"Word from the Swiss bank?" Peter asked Diana.
"Yeah. They won't budge on our request to freeze the account," she said. "But they did report something unexpected."
She handed him a file that he opened.
"Duponte came into their New York branch to have a debit card reissued?" That was what it said, but...
"Then started spending in a big way," Diana said. He turned the page in the file.
"Two dozen Fioravanti suits and twice that in Valentino dresses, matching black and red Rolls-Royce convertibles." Peter stared at the list. He only knew one man who would spend all his money on suits. "This sounds like the world's most expensive date."
"You think Duponte has a partner with expensive tastes?"
"I think I have a partner with expensive tastes."
He returned the file to a baffled Diana and left the office.
Neal had had one of the best afternoons in his life.
"What do you think?" he asked Sara.
"Well, it's almost right," she said, arranging a necklace around the neck of one of the wooden sculptures. "There we go." He hugged her. "I never thought I would say this, but I'm actually worn out from shopping."
"Well, you better get your second wind because we still have a lot left in our coffers."
"Well, I suppose I can muster up some strength. Look, I have to ask you a stupid question."
"Yeah?"
"What do we do if the Vulture does come after us?"
"Hackers aren't known for their physical prowess." He kissed her soft and smooth neck.
"Neal... That's not a strategy."
"Look, I… if the Vulture shows up, we call Peter, and the FBI arrests him."
"Oh, so you were gonna call me eventually?" Peter's voice.
"Oh…" Sara said.
"Peter, there's an explanation for all this." The artwork, the suits… Peter stood with his hands on his hip, glaring at him.
"You thought you'd spend the money to draw the Vulture out of hiding."
Neal relaxed. Peter had figured it out. Of course, he had. It was Peter!
"I love how we're always on the same page," he said, smiling.
"Same page? We're not reading the same book. We're not even in the same library."
"Okay, I can see that you're mad."
"Damn right, I'm mad. You robbed a bank."
Putting it that way and with that attitude, it meant he was going back to prison. Not the way he had thought this would go.
Peter walked up the stairs to Neal's apartment. The door was open.
"Look, I… if the Vulture shows up," he heard Neal's voice say, "we call Peter, and the FBI arrests him."
Peter stepped into a room full of artwork. It seemed as if the Swiss had not kept up with his pet convict's tempo.
"Oh, so you were gonna call me eventually?" he said.
And there was Sara in a gown. One of the twenty-somethings of some overrated brand.
"Peter, there is an explanation for all this!" the kids said.
"You thought you'd spend the money to draw the Vulture out of hiding."
"I love how we're always on the same page." His pet convict was smiling all over his face, and Peter could do nothing but stare.
"Same page?" he spat. "We're not reading the same book. We're not even in the same library."
"Okay, I can see that you're mad."
"Damn right, I'm mad. You robbed a bank."
Peter felt the weight of the cuffs in his right pocket. How could he let the kid slip through this one? And Sara! He had thought they were good together! That she would be good for him. And what did the kid do? Pull her along on his escapades!
"Vulture robbed a bank," Sara mumbled. "We simply—"
"Robbed a different bank?" Peter asked. "Nice dress. What were you thinking, Sara?"
She looked taken aback, as if reality just hit her. Good.
"Look, it was either that or we sit on our hands until this guy slipped up," the kid said, with an attitude as well.
"I'm not sitting on my hands! This is due process. I should have known that you'd come up with some half-baked idea to avoid it."
"If we give it some time—"
"No. Absolutely not. This ends now. Sara, I suggest that you change your clothes and collect all the receipts, because all of this is going back as soon as the case is closed. You," he pointed at Neal, "you're coming with me. There's a lot of missing money out there, and someone's going to prison for it. You're gonna help me make sure that it's the Vulture and not the two of you. Okay?"
If he had to take Neal to prison, so be it. He had acted like he did before his first arrest. Peter was mad at Neal as well as himself for not seeing this coming. But he certainly did not want to arrest Sara.
Peter turned to leave and then realized something and turned back to the kid, who had moved to follow him as ordered.
"That shirt is new." He watched the kid's eyes turn to puppy eyes. "No. No. No. Change it now, or find yourself in an orange jumpsuit this very day. You've got two minutes to get down to the car in one of your own shirts."