FIC: Twenty-five Days (part 1)
Title: Twenty-five Days
Author: calis_1st
Rating: PG
Characters: Neal, Peter, Jones, Diana, Mozzie, "Boots," Mara Summers
Spoilers: Season 5, particularly Diamond Exchange (5.13).and Controlling Interest (5.04); mentions of few bad boys and girls from earlier seasons.
Word count: ~ 11,100
Disclaimer: Characters are all from the brilliant mind of Jeff Eastin and probably a writer or two.
Summary: "I'm about to become the last person on earth who knows where you are." Neal has twenty-five days to make that not true.
Note: For my round 5 h/c bingo card, wildcard square ("kidnapping"). It would have been last year's "disappearing" square, but I was painfully slow with finishing it.
___________________________
"I'm about to become the last person on earth who knows where you are."
Faster than Neal could even voice the obvious question his arms were pinned and a sack was pulled over his head and down past his shoulders. He struggled to escape but with his first breath he felt lightheaded and off-balance as he was pulled forward. With his second breath he realized he was being drugged, and by his third he was already unconscious on the floor of the van. He recalled Peter telling him it wasn't over, but he was pretty sure that it was.
***
***
Not two hours after he told Neal that Justice refused to grant him the commutation he deserved, Neal's anklet was cut. For a few moments - but only a few - Peter was angry that Neal had chosen to run. But his anger quickly dissolved to resignation, and then to sadness and understanding. He didn't think Neal wanted to be a fugitive again, and while he understood Neal's frustration and resentment Peter really didn't think Neal would take off again. Again - no, that wasn't exactly right. The one time Neal ever actually ran was the time Peter told him to. The only comparable time was when Fowler arranged for his leaving, and Neal had no reason to believe that Project Mentor wasn't a legitimate deal. He may have slipped the leash a few times, taken advantage of opportunities while he was off-anklet, escaped from custody more than once, but he never actually ran on his own.
But even this made no sense. If Neal was really going to run, wouldn’t he have waited until Peter was in DC? Something told him this was all wrong. With a sigh, he called June to let her know that either the FBI or the Marshals would be there soon (and he'd push as hard as he could for it to be his team).
That was when everything turned upside-down.
"Peter, I was hoping to hear from you before your move to DC. Are you still leaving tomorrow?"
"Actually, no, June, my plans have changed. I have to ask, is Neal there, by any chance?"
"No, the last time I saw him he was on his way to see you. Didn't he get there?" She sounded concerned.
"I did see him. I had - bad news. He was understandably angry when he left, and now the Marshals just called and said his anklet was cut. June, please, do you know anything about it?"
"No, I don't, but to be honest he wouldn't have told me if he'd planned anything illegal. Have you spoken to Mozzie?"
"I don't have any way to reach him."
"I expect him here shortly, I'll have him call you. But, Peter, we both know, no matter what happened, Neal wouldn't run because of bad news. He wanted nothing more than a fresh start. He's got less than a year on his sentence, he wouldn't risk life in prison without a damn good reason. What bad news did you have for him?"
Peter repeated his earlier conversation with Neal, ending with Neal's belief that it was all a game.
"Peter, he's angry, but not foolish. He's not the impulsive, love-struck young man who escaped from prison before. You and I both know that. Hold on, I believe Mozzie just arrived."
Peter heard muffled voices and, as expected, it was Mozzie who came back on the line.
"Neal's missing? I don't know what you think, but he's not running. I would know if he was, and he's not. I left him in the park not a half hour ago."
"Mozzie, come on, I told him Justice wouldn't reduce his sentence because he did his job too well, his anklet is cut and he disappears. He still thinks I'm leaving tomorrow with Elizabeth and now - he's gone. What am I supposed to believe?"
"You're staying?"
"Yes, Mozzie."
"And Mrs. Suit is - ?"
Peter sighed.
"Is leaving. I couldn't risk Neal being turned over to someone who wouldn't value him as well as his contributions, so I turned down the DC position. Only Neal didn't know that because I hadn't had time to tell him."
"You have to believe that, if Neal's gone, it wasn't by his own choice. I know because - because - we talked about me hacking the tracker's signal, which would theoretically take a week or so. He wouldn't have done anything before that." He paused while he wiped his glasses on his shirt tail. "Peter, you have to find him."
Peter felt a nearly physical ache in his chest as he considered just how many people might want to harm Neal, from his past and as a result of his service with the FBI. There were Matthew Keller and Ryan Wilkes, both of whom would kill Neal in a heartbeat. Rachel Turner, with a still-uncovered network and the ability to hunt Neal down, even from prison. Pierce Spellman, Rob MacLeish, Ghovat, Avery Phillips - Neal was involved in all of their captures, and all of them were capable of murder. The Russian mob, the Flynns and the Irish mob, the Chinese mob, hell, maybe even the Detroit mob, if they were using Neal to get to Mozzie. The remains of Pratt's organization. Peter realized he was holding his breath as he considered the scope of enemies Neal had made while working as his CI.
"Peter?" Mozzie said, when the silence went on for too long.
"I believe you, Moz. I'm going to round up my team and find Neal. Can you - would you - come to my office in about an hour?" he asked, knowing how paranoid Mozzie was about entering the FBI headquarters.
"For Neal - of course."
*****
Day 3
Neal’s eyes burned, his throat was raw. His tongue felt bone-dry as he rubbed it across the equally dry roof of his mouth. None of that bothered him as much as the racing of his heart. He tried to lift his head but it felt as if someone had placed an iron band across his forehead and tightened it, and then chained it to the floor.
"Welcome back," a disembodied voice said. It was tinny with static, as if through a bad speaker.
"Wha - where - ." He needed to swallow but there was nothing there. He tried raising his head again. This time he could lift it a couple of inches off the pillowless canvas cot.
"And here I thought you were the smart one. How disappointing."
He knew the voice, he just couldn't put a name and face with it yet. Woman, mid- 40's, suit, professional, fingernails.
"Mara Summers," he barely managed to get out, unable to get the bitterness in his head into his voice.
"Very good, Mr. Caffrey. I'm sure you're thirsty by now. It's been three days since you last had something to eat or drink. Would you like some water?"
*****
Three days after Neal's disappearance Peter stood at the head of the conference room table, his back to a white board that was reminiscent of his first hunt for Neal Caffrey. Except this time, instead of suspected thefts, forgeries and other crimes, there was a list of people Neal had helped put in prison. It was a long list. The number of names increased nearly every time that Peter, Diana or Jones pulled out a case file, but some of those names had already been crossed off as one agent or another interviewed or reviewed the prison records of each individual. Ryan Wilkes and Dr. Wayne Powell were both dead. Pierce Spellman had gotten an early release but was deported back to Canada, where she remained. Dr. Mara Summers was on bail awaiting trial. The ones interviewed so far - Edward Walker, Avery Phillips, Ghovat, Gary Jennings, Robert MacLeish, Gerard Dorsett, Eric Dunham - denied having anything to do with Neal's disappearance, and Peter was inclined to believe them, after reviewing the interview tapes. A few others remained outstanding. Matthew Keller had had no contact with anyone - by telephone, mail or in person - for nearly two years. Rachel Turner refused to speak with anyone from the FBI. They were still searching for James Bennett.
On top of the individuals, there was the Russian mob, the Chinese mob, the Irish mob. Anyone left from Pratt's organization. Ruiz's Organized Crime Unit was surprisingly helpful in handling that portion of the investigation, but they, too, came up empty so far. The more names they had added to the list over the past few days, the deeper Peter's ire grew toward the Department of Justice for not freeing Neal.
*****************
Neal heard a door unlock, then open. The dim light from the hallway outside was much brighter than the small night light plugged into an outlet in the room he was in. He squinted until he could make out the silhouette of a man in the doorway. Neal heard the man's heels clicking across the floor as he walked toward Neal.
"Well, well," the man said. "About time." Neal recognized the voice as Cowboy Boots Man, who was not inclined to give a name. Boots pulled Neal up into a sitting position on the narrow cot and pushed a water bottle to his mouth.
"Don't be foolish," Summers' voice came from somewhere past the door. "I should think by now you've realized that I can drug you any way I want. Right now I just want to talk to you, and I need you to understand what I'm saying, and remember it."
As much as Neal tried to not to drink, his overwhelming thirst won out. He stopped after a few gulps.
"That's better. Good things can happen when you're cooperative." She stood in the doorway, the light casting her in silhouette. Neal couldn't see her face but he knew she'd planned it that way. He waited for her to begin.
"Don't you wonder why you're here?" she finally asked.
He shrugged.
"Guess it's some combination of revenge and money," he replied.
"Two out of three. Very good. You stole two million dollars from me. I want it back. You stole my professional future. I want recompense for that, as well. The third, and this is why I won't drug you unless you give me reason to, I need a passport and a few other documents. I need to get far away from New York, and I want you to make them for me."
"I can't make legal documents out of thin air, and I doubt you have the right inks, paper and printer in the next room."
He couldn't see the expression on her face but he could see her tilt her head.
"I'm sure your little friend with the glasses and funny scarves has access to those things, right? Should I have him picked up?"
"No! Leave him out of this. I - I can get what I need, it'll just take a little time."
"I'm curious as to how you plan on doing that, but you don't have a lot of time. Today is the fourteenth of the month. My trial is in a little over three weeks, beginning on the seventh. You have until midnight on the fifth to have everything ready. I'll leave you alone for two hours to eat, drink, wash up, and think about just how you're going to pull this off, Mr. Caffrey."
*****************
"Summers made bail?” Jones asked.
“She wasn’t charged with a capital offense, she isn’t considered a flight risk since all of her assets were frozen and her passport confiscated, so the DA agreed to bail. Plus she’s on electronic monitoring while she awaits trial.”
“She can’t be happy with Caffrey. I mean, he’s the reason she admitted her crimes and is probably heading to prison.”
“Her trial's coming up soon, I believe. I may be called to testify," Peter said.
Jones briefly perused a file.
“Starts on the seventh of next month.”
“Get hold of the Marshals. Let’s see if we can bring her in for a chat.”
*****************
Three days lost. If she was drugging his food or water now it wasn’t with something obvious enough that he was able to notice. Neal couldn’t help but pace as he picked up the sandwich Boots left for him while absently running his other hand through his tangled hair. The remnants of his headache were just enough to be a slight distraction as he tried to think about how he could both cooperate enough to live through the next 22 days and somehow escape.
First things first. He’d always relied on Mozzie for cash and materials, regardless of whose stash they were raiding. Neal had contacts but Mozzie’s ran far deeper, especially since Neal began serving his sentence with the FBI. His only hope was for Mozzie or Peter to pick up on a purchase or a means to a purchase necessary for Neal to give Summers what she wanted. No, he reminded himself, just Mozzie. Peter was in DC, unless he was sticking around for another manhunt. He wondered if Summers had any fences in her former patient list. He wondered if he would need to farm out the passport to Devlin or someone else in the forger community. He needed to start by getting cash to her, and quickly, by doing what he did best.
******
continued