Wherever You Happen to Be: Chapter 3
For Chapter 2, click HERE
“Let’s just get up and make some coffee,” El said about four. “Maybe we’ll think of something when our subconscious isn’t more awake than we are.”
Peter rolled over and looked at her in the dim light, glad he no longer had to pretend to sleep. “You are the most amazing woman on the planet,” he said. “I’ll scramble us some eggs.”
Twenty minutes later, they were both robed and sitting down to fluffy scrambled eggs and strong coffee. The toast popped up and El went to retrieve it, setting two light brown slices on the edge of Peter’s plate. Other than the sandwich last night, Peter had not really eaten anything yesterday past breakfast, and the combination of nerves and gnawing hunger were making him nauseated. The eggs and toast helped, and the coffee made everything seem brighter.
Peter was more encouraged today than yesterday. “I’m sure this is fixable,” Peter said, and El nodded and smiled tentatively. She was worried about this degree of optimism, especially at four-thirty in the morning, but she didn’t want to rain on his enthusiasm.
“Well, Bruce will help you, if he can. Kramer can’t be the only one who can pull strings.”
“He’s not,” Peter said, frowning, “but he does have a long reach. I should have seen this coming, El-I should have anticipated this.”
“Sweetie, if you had been able to anticipate everything that’s happened this year-if you had been able to anticipate anything that’s happened this year-“
“I know,” Peter groaned. “Don’t remind me.” He ate a bite of toast and talked around it. “But I’m going to take a shower, get dressed and get to the office early. I want to send a few emails, make a few phone calls and I can do that better in the office.”
“Good. I’ll take a shower after you go, get dressed and look over that menu for the Schwartz’s bat mitzvah again. I can’t get everything they want from the same place, and we’re going to have to order-“ She stopped mid-sentence, seeing Peter’s distracted expression, then stood up and walked over so she could kiss him on the cheek.
“What?” Peter said. “I mean, that sounds great, Honey. Just great.”
El kissed him, this time on the lips, and her smile was gentle. “Just figure out how to get Neal back,” she said. “That’s what matters.”
***
_________________________________________________
You up?
Mozzie looked at his phone suspiciously, then recognized the number and sighed with relief. His fingers flew over the keys.
Why??
I have a plan.
Good to know. Don’t text.
?
I’ll come to you.
Coffee?
It’s too early for wine….
15 minutes?
15 minutes
__________________________________________________
He pushed his feet into his shoes and left Neal’s apartment.
***
“You didn’t sleep at all last night,” Christie accused, bending to brush a kiss across Diana’s hair. “What time did you actually get up?”
“I don’t know-two?”
“No-you woke me up at two-thirty tossing and turning.” This was said without rancor, and more than a trace of concern in her manner. “Four maybe?”
Diana was looking at her phone. “Four-thirty,” she said. “I must have slept a little.”
Christie sat down on the footstool at Diana’s feet and smiled at her, drowsy and rumpled and beautiful. Diana did a double-take, then put her phone down and leaned forward and kissed her properly. “Hey,” she said when Christie opened her eyes. “I should’ve gotten up instead of tossing and turning all night. Sorry for being such an inconsiderate jerk. I know you have a long day today.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Christie cried, indignant. “You’re worried about Neal-we’re all worried about Neal.” She hugged her knees and looked at her partner. “So…what’s the plan? What are we going to do to get him back?”
“Well, first we have to find him,” Diana said. “Then-”
“I thought he was with Kramer, right? What do you mean, find him?”
“He is with Kramer,” Diana said. “So we know he’ll be in the Art Crime Division, but apparently Kramer has made the White Collar Division here-the people who worked with Neal-off-limits. For now, anyway. We can’t contact him through official channels.”
Christie looked troubled. “He can really do that? He can keep you from getting in contact with Neal?”
“He can try,” Diana said fiercely, and Christie wanted to kiss her. Seeing the look she was getting, Diana blushed and smiled. “I mean, as Neal’s handler, Kramer can argue that Neal will acclimate better to his new responsibilities if he doesn’t have contact with his old friends. The handler gets the final say.”
“But-surely that’s not how that rule is supposed to be applied!” Christie cried. “That’s to keep Neal away from…unsavory people.”
Diana snorted. “You mean like Mozzie?”
Christie grinned. She had met Mozzie twice, and liked him. He was a strange little man, but charming and funny. She knew that, despite her protests to the contrary, Diana liked him, too.
“Oh! Maybe Mozzie could get in touch with him-he doesn’t work at White Collar!”
“We’re pretty sure that sending Mozzie up to DC to talk to the folks in Art Crimes isn’t going to be a smart move. Kramer’s pretty savvy, has some feelers out pretty far. If Mozzie blips on Kramer’s radar, it’s liable to open up a whole new can of worms.”
“But you have a plan?”
Diana looked away from Christie’s hopeful expression. “Not yet, not really. But we’re all working on our own piece of it.”
Christie put her hand on Diana’s arm. “What’s our piece?” she asked, and Diana’s frown melted into a smile, undone by the “our.” Marriage suddenly didn’t seem so scary.
“Well, I’m going to put out feelers to the other departments in DC. I still have some ties to the diplomatic corps and some folks from Accounting who helped us-oh! I know someone I can call!” She pulled out her phone but Christie covered it gently.
“Maybe not on your phone,” she said. Diana looked at her, surprised, and Christie explained. “If Kramer’s got feelers out, you might not want to do that on your phone. Didn’t you say he threatened you the other day?”
Diana waved it away, sorry she had mentioned it. “It was nothing. But you’re right about the phone. I’ll pick up a burner phone on the way to work.” She stood up and slung her purse over her arm, then swung back down and kissed Christie on the mouth.
“Mm-coffee breath,” giggled Christie, and patted her on the bum as she left.
***
Neal tried not to look at himself in the mirror once he was dressed. The only thing that felt even vaguely normal was his anklet, and that rankled as much as it ever had. Everything about the suit felt wrong-the fit, the cheap wool blend-even the color seemed dingy. He had tried wearing his own suit with the new shirt-yesterday’s shirt was unsalvageable for another day spent in close proximity to others-but it had been disastrous, the fine texture of his suit making the shirt look even more cheap and ill-fitting. He had donned the new suit with distaste, but he had managed it. He knew, or thought he did, that this-this isolation, this lack of familiarity, the indignity of having his wardrobe chosen for him like a child-was part of Kramer’s plan to put him off, to humiliate and unsettle him. Kramer liked to keep people off-kilter, liked to control them and he wanted to be anything but predictable. He needed more information if he was going to figure out a way out, hopefully on his own terms.
He did his best to ignore it all-this was no time for vanity-and slicked back his damp hair trying to decide if he needed to use the blow-dryer before he realized he didn’t have one. The weather here was cool and rainy anyway. He left the apartment and started down the stairs, meeting Kramer on the way up. That was his intent-he did not want Kramer in his very small apartment unless absolutely necessary-and he noted with satisfaction that he looked both surprised and displeased, which was what Neal had hoped for.
Neal looked at his watch, or where his watch would have been if he’d still been wearing one. “Don’t want to be late the first day,” Neal said, and left Kramer to trail after him down the stairs.
***
Diana had been more than happy to see Peter when she arrived at the office. She dropped into the chair in his office and handed him a sack from the drugstore. Peter looked inside the paper sack and his eyebrows rose.
“Good idea,” he said. He looked at his own phone ruefully. “I’ve already called Bruce and a few others, so they know we’re not going to take this lying down.”
“No-it’s fine that you talked to Bruce and everybody else on your phone-that’s what they’d expect you to do. This phone is for…other calls. Calls you want to keep off the Uboat radar, if you know what I mean.”
Peter nodded. “Good thinking, Diana.” He started taking the phone out of the package.
Diana smiled. “It was Christie, actually,” she said. “She was worried because of what Kramer said to me….” She trailed off, realizing she hadn’t told Peter about Kramer’s veiled threats and insinuations.
Peter looked at her, mouth pursed, eyebrows climbing. “Diana?”
“Look-it’s no big deal,” she said. “Kramer must have felt I was…holding back or something. He said something about…not wanting me to lose my job-something like that,” she muttered. Her cheeks felt hot and she was afraid to look at Peter. Damn! She hadn’t meant to tell him, hadn’t meant for him to know.
“He…threatened you? Kramer threatened you? One of my own people, in my own office…!”
“Peter, look-I think he was just using that as leverage. Besides, he’s not the only person with some clout. I know a few people, too.”
“People you used to work with?”
Diana inclined her head and made a face. “Well….” she said.
“People you used to work with…unofficially?” Peter asked. Not all diplomacy happened through legal channels.
“Close enough,” said Diana, moving hastily on. “The important thing is, I found out some things that might prove useful.” She pulled out a notepad covered in her neat scrawl. “There’s no smoking gun, but there’s some definite leads to follow up.”
“What were you looking for?” Peter asked, and Diana’s answer made him smile..
“Leverage,” she said. “Anything that works.”
***
“The scarlet bird never sings the same song twice,” said Mozzie from behind his newspaper.
“The looney bird is going to have a cup of coffee poured over his head,” said Sara. She sat down next to Mozzie on the bench and handed him a cup of coffee. She took the top off her own coffee and blew on it, letting the steam play over her face.
Mozzie took the top off his own cup and inhaled. It wasn’t wine, but it wasn’t bad.
“You have an idea?” he asked after taking a sip.
“I have some ideas,” Sara corrected. “But we might need help from some of your friends.”
Not for the first time, Mozzie looked at Sara with renewed respect. Sara was all about getting the job done, and she wasn’t above getting her hands dirty if necessary. At the Burke’s last night, when people had paired or grouped last night based on what they intended to pursue, she had made a beeline for him, proof positive that she intended to make sure that the less legal avenues were equally explored. If she needed help from one of his friends, he knew they’d be safe in her hands-unless they crossed her.
“Tell me what you need,” said Mozzie. “I’ll do anything I can.”
***
This time, Kramer wanted a public venue. There were times when it better served your purpose to meet with people one-on-one-he had certainly found his private conversations with Diana very useful. Although she had remained outwardly calm and polite, had done everything he asked, he could tell his questions and insinuations had made her squirm. It had been a necessary evil, unsettling a good agent like Berrigan, but he’d trusted that the outcome would justify the means. But today-for this-Kramer wanted a more public arena. Caffrey was slippery, and he had friends-that much was certain-but Neal was in his arena now, and he wanted everything out in the open. Everything.
If that meant making a few people uncomfortable, so be it. He had kept Neal close once they’d arrived at the office, discouraging contact from any of the other employees by the simple expedient of closing his office door.
Neal sat on the uncomfortable chair beside the desk in his boxy suit and clamped his mouth shut, determined not to ask for anything. He was glad Kramer hadn’t humiliated him by sending him for coffee, but later wished he had-at least it would have gotten him out of Kramer’s office and into contact with other people. Neal had already checked where the phones were, where the computers were, where electrical outlets were placed, what blind spots there were in the big, open room. The room itself was architecturally distinctive, older than their building in New York, but the floor plan of a busy, functioning office is just that, and while it was not the same as his old office, it was not an interesting sort of different.
He was surprised to discover that Kramer’s office was rather pedestrian. There were a couple of original art pieces on the wall that Neal grudgingly admitted were in good taste, and there were a handful of nice art prints scattered around-Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers” and a lesser-known Matisse that made Neal feel both more comfortable and more uneasy. There was a lot here that Kramer could entice him with-he was an old hand, knowledgeable about using the carrot as well as the stick-and Neal kept his force fields up. If he’d had phasers, he’d have put them on stun, but he hadn’t even been given back his watch or wallet, making him dependent on Kramer for everything.
They had not talked other than out of necessity on the cab ride in to the office, although Neal had worked to remain civil, to keep his expression fixed and neutral if not polite. Here, it was a challenge to be in close proximity to Kramer, watching him work without anything of his own to do, but he sat with every appearance of calm as the big room downstairs filled with people. He realized he was rather on display where he sat, and knew that there were probably many curious glances coming his way, but he refused to turn around and look. Plus, he suspected that, if he tried, Kramer might try to make him go stand in the corner. The image made him want to smile or grimace, but he handled it. This was awkward, but he wouldn’t be under Kramer’s watchful eye the whole time. As soon as he had a chance to talk to the other workers, he could figure out how to deal with the lack of a phone.
Kramer looked up, over his shoulder, then smiled and closed the folder that he’d been reading. He had been reading files since they had arrived, and while he hadn’t made a big show of it, he had made sure that Neal saw nothing-not even the names on the files. It was just another subtle reminder that he, Neal, wasn’t to be trusted, and that everything he got was going to be doled out to him in little pieces. This was a waiting game, with Kramer hoping to grind away at his resolve like a millstone, but Neal had learned patience running cons, and had honed that patience to a fine art in prison. He thought he could summon up some in this prison, too, if it meant scoring a few points off Kramer.
Kramer stood up and gestured Neal toward the door. Neal managed to stand and reach the door without coming in range of Kramer’s hand on his back. The memory of Peter’s hand on his back, warm and solid and comforting, surged unbidden into Neal’s mind and he shoved it irritably away. There was no point in wanting what he couldn’t have right now-he needed to concentrate on getting back what he had lost.
He opened the door and went through it, then waited for Kramer to take the lead, but Kramer motioned him forward, herding him down the hallway, toward the staircase. Neal put on his best “professional” smile-polite, composed-and tried to think of this as just another undercover job. The problem was, this wasn’t undercover. Everyone here would know him, know things about him, and not in a good way, perhaps. Melissa was here, also, and he suspected that she wouldn’t exactly be a fount of sympathy now that he was here in her Feeling exposed, Neal picked his way down the stairs and saw that every eye-every eye in the office-was fixed on him. Well, him and Kramer. Lacking different instructions, Neal walked down to the main floor where everyone else was. He had resisted the urge to look around to see what Kramer was doing, so he didn’t know that Kramer had stopped at the landing and was addressing everyone from the railing until he heard him speak. He turned around and looked up, thinking of all the times he had looked up to see Peter beckoning to him with that two-fingered summons. He felt a surge of fury, then sorrow, and struggled to keep his face serene.
“Good morning, everyone,” Kramer said genially, his good manners on display. “Glad to be back and very glad to see how much you’ve accomplished while I’ve been gone.” Maybe he was hypersensitive to it, but Neal thought he detected just a hint of a threat in Kramer’s comment. He had spent the morning going over files-had that been more to keep tabs on what his people had been doing-or not doing-while he was gone than a desire to reacquaint himself with what the office had going? More than a couple of people shifted uneasily and Neal tried to memorize faces. It might be worth knowing who else was uncomfortable here.
“I know the rumor mill has probably been working overtime,” Kramer said, striving for humorous and coming across reproving, “so I’m sure you’ve all heard by now that we have a new worker here at DC Art Crimes-Neal Caffrey. Some of you have met Neal, and the rest of you, I think, know him by reputation, so I don’t think I need to tell you…better lock up your valuables!” He smiled, a fatuous little smirk that made a couple of people blink in surprise before curving their lips into the semblance of a smile. Neal felt his face flush at the unexpectedness of the attack, but he braved it as best he could. He put his hands in his pockets, looked at his toes in mock-bashfulness and smiled.
“Not everything,” he said, looking up and shifting his smile from “professional” to “mischievous.” “Just the good stuff. I do have a reputation to uphold.”
There were smiles and grins all around, but most of them were quickly hidden. Neal didn’t have to see Kramer’s face to know he had squelched their amusement with a glare. So…Kramer wasn’t above a low blow in public, but he was obviously more practiced at dishing it out than he was at taking it. Good to know, Neal thought. At this point, anything and everything was good to know.
“Seriously, though,” said Neal, and tamped his smile back to “genuine.” “It’s very nice to meet you.” He shook a few hands near him-firm grip, eye contact, dry palm. “That is-I hope to be meeting all of you very soon.” This said to make them all aware that he was aware that Kramer would probably try to oversee most of his contact with everyone. He saw a couple of eyebrows raise in surprise or bemusement, quickly masked, but he was taking mental notes. They were watching him, waiting to see what he was like, waiting to see what he would do. One of these people just might be his ticket to the outside world, and he was going to make every contact count.
For Chapter 4, click HERE
“Let’s just get up and make some coffee,” El said about four. “Maybe we’ll think of something when our subconscious isn’t more awake than we are.”
Peter rolled over and looked at her in the dim light, glad he no longer had to pretend to sleep. “You are the most amazing woman on the planet,” he said. “I’ll scramble us some eggs.”
Twenty minutes later, they were both robed and sitting down to fluffy scrambled eggs and strong coffee. The toast popped up and El went to retrieve it, setting two light brown slices on the edge of Peter’s plate. Other than the sandwich last night, Peter had not really eaten anything yesterday past breakfast, and the combination of nerves and gnawing hunger were making him nauseated. The eggs and toast helped, and the coffee made everything seem brighter.
Peter was more encouraged today than yesterday. “I’m sure this is fixable,” Peter said, and El nodded and smiled tentatively. She was worried about this degree of optimism, especially at four-thirty in the morning, but she didn’t want to rain on his enthusiasm.
“Well, Bruce will help you, if he can. Kramer can’t be the only one who can pull strings.”
“He’s not,” Peter said, frowning, “but he does have a long reach. I should have seen this coming, El-I should have anticipated this.”
“Sweetie, if you had been able to anticipate everything that’s happened this year-if you had been able to anticipate anything that’s happened this year-“
“I know,” Peter groaned. “Don’t remind me.” He ate a bite of toast and talked around it. “But I’m going to take a shower, get dressed and get to the office early. I want to send a few emails, make a few phone calls and I can do that better in the office.”
“Good. I’ll take a shower after you go, get dressed and look over that menu for the Schwartz’s bat mitzvah again. I can’t get everything they want from the same place, and we’re going to have to order-“ She stopped mid-sentence, seeing Peter’s distracted expression, then stood up and walked over so she could kiss him on the cheek.
“What?” Peter said. “I mean, that sounds great, Honey. Just great.”
El kissed him, this time on the lips, and her smile was gentle. “Just figure out how to get Neal back,” she said. “That’s what matters.”
***
_________________________________________________
You up?
Mozzie looked at his phone suspiciously, then recognized the number and sighed with relief. His fingers flew over the keys.
Why??
I have a plan.
Good to know. Don’t text.
?
I’ll come to you.
Coffee?
It’s too early for wine….
15 minutes?
15 minutes
__________________________________________________
He pushed his feet into his shoes and left Neal’s apartment.
***
“You didn’t sleep at all last night,” Christie accused, bending to brush a kiss across Diana’s hair. “What time did you actually get up?”
“I don’t know-two?”
“No-you woke me up at two-thirty tossing and turning.” This was said without rancor, and more than a trace of concern in her manner. “Four maybe?”
Diana was looking at her phone. “Four-thirty,” she said. “I must have slept a little.”
Christie sat down on the footstool at Diana’s feet and smiled at her, drowsy and rumpled and beautiful. Diana did a double-take, then put her phone down and leaned forward and kissed her properly. “Hey,” she said when Christie opened her eyes. “I should’ve gotten up instead of tossing and turning all night. Sorry for being such an inconsiderate jerk. I know you have a long day today.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Christie cried, indignant. “You’re worried about Neal-we’re all worried about Neal.” She hugged her knees and looked at her partner. “So…what’s the plan? What are we going to do to get him back?”
“Well, first we have to find him,” Diana said. “Then-”
“I thought he was with Kramer, right? What do you mean, find him?”
“He is with Kramer,” Diana said. “So we know he’ll be in the Art Crime Division, but apparently Kramer has made the White Collar Division here-the people who worked with Neal-off-limits. For now, anyway. We can’t contact him through official channels.”
Christie looked troubled. “He can really do that? He can keep you from getting in contact with Neal?”
“He can try,” Diana said fiercely, and Christie wanted to kiss her. Seeing the look she was getting, Diana blushed and smiled. “I mean, as Neal’s handler, Kramer can argue that Neal will acclimate better to his new responsibilities if he doesn’t have contact with his old friends. The handler gets the final say.”
“But-surely that’s not how that rule is supposed to be applied!” Christie cried. “That’s to keep Neal away from…unsavory people.”
Diana snorted. “You mean like Mozzie?”
Christie grinned. She had met Mozzie twice, and liked him. He was a strange little man, but charming and funny. She knew that, despite her protests to the contrary, Diana liked him, too.
“Oh! Maybe Mozzie could get in touch with him-he doesn’t work at White Collar!”
“We’re pretty sure that sending Mozzie up to DC to talk to the folks in Art Crimes isn’t going to be a smart move. Kramer’s pretty savvy, has some feelers out pretty far. If Mozzie blips on Kramer’s radar, it’s liable to open up a whole new can of worms.”
“But you have a plan?”
Diana looked away from Christie’s hopeful expression. “Not yet, not really. But we’re all working on our own piece of it.”
Christie put her hand on Diana’s arm. “What’s our piece?” she asked, and Diana’s frown melted into a smile, undone by the “our.” Marriage suddenly didn’t seem so scary.
“Well, I’m going to put out feelers to the other departments in DC. I still have some ties to the diplomatic corps and some folks from Accounting who helped us-oh! I know someone I can call!” She pulled out her phone but Christie covered it gently.
“Maybe not on your phone,” she said. Diana looked at her, surprised, and Christie explained. “If Kramer’s got feelers out, you might not want to do that on your phone. Didn’t you say he threatened you the other day?”
Diana waved it away, sorry she had mentioned it. “It was nothing. But you’re right about the phone. I’ll pick up a burner phone on the way to work.” She stood up and slung her purse over her arm, then swung back down and kissed Christie on the mouth.
“Mm-coffee breath,” giggled Christie, and patted her on the bum as she left.
***
Neal tried not to look at himself in the mirror once he was dressed. The only thing that felt even vaguely normal was his anklet, and that rankled as much as it ever had. Everything about the suit felt wrong-the fit, the cheap wool blend-even the color seemed dingy. He had tried wearing his own suit with the new shirt-yesterday’s shirt was unsalvageable for another day spent in close proximity to others-but it had been disastrous, the fine texture of his suit making the shirt look even more cheap and ill-fitting. He had donned the new suit with distaste, but he had managed it. He knew, or thought he did, that this-this isolation, this lack of familiarity, the indignity of having his wardrobe chosen for him like a child-was part of Kramer’s plan to put him off, to humiliate and unsettle him. Kramer liked to keep people off-kilter, liked to control them and he wanted to be anything but predictable. He needed more information if he was going to figure out a way out, hopefully on his own terms.
He did his best to ignore it all-this was no time for vanity-and slicked back his damp hair trying to decide if he needed to use the blow-dryer before he realized he didn’t have one. The weather here was cool and rainy anyway. He left the apartment and started down the stairs, meeting Kramer on the way up. That was his intent-he did not want Kramer in his very small apartment unless absolutely necessary-and he noted with satisfaction that he looked both surprised and displeased, which was what Neal had hoped for.
Neal looked at his watch, or where his watch would have been if he’d still been wearing one. “Don’t want to be late the first day,” Neal said, and left Kramer to trail after him down the stairs.
***
Diana had been more than happy to see Peter when she arrived at the office. She dropped into the chair in his office and handed him a sack from the drugstore. Peter looked inside the paper sack and his eyebrows rose.
“Good idea,” he said. He looked at his own phone ruefully. “I’ve already called Bruce and a few others, so they know we’re not going to take this lying down.”
“No-it’s fine that you talked to Bruce and everybody else on your phone-that’s what they’d expect you to do. This phone is for…other calls. Calls you want to keep off the Uboat radar, if you know what I mean.”
Peter nodded. “Good thinking, Diana.” He started taking the phone out of the package.
Diana smiled. “It was Christie, actually,” she said. “She was worried because of what Kramer said to me….” She trailed off, realizing she hadn’t told Peter about Kramer’s veiled threats and insinuations.
Peter looked at her, mouth pursed, eyebrows climbing. “Diana?”
“Look-it’s no big deal,” she said. “Kramer must have felt I was…holding back or something. He said something about…not wanting me to lose my job-something like that,” she muttered. Her cheeks felt hot and she was afraid to look at Peter. Damn! She hadn’t meant to tell him, hadn’t meant for him to know.
“He…threatened you? Kramer threatened you? One of my own people, in my own office…!”
“Peter, look-I think he was just using that as leverage. Besides, he’s not the only person with some clout. I know a few people, too.”
“People you used to work with?”
Diana inclined her head and made a face. “Well….” she said.
“People you used to work with…unofficially?” Peter asked. Not all diplomacy happened through legal channels.
“Close enough,” said Diana, moving hastily on. “The important thing is, I found out some things that might prove useful.” She pulled out a notepad covered in her neat scrawl. “There’s no smoking gun, but there’s some definite leads to follow up.”
“What were you looking for?” Peter asked, and Diana’s answer made him smile..
“Leverage,” she said. “Anything that works.”
***
“The scarlet bird never sings the same song twice,” said Mozzie from behind his newspaper.
“The looney bird is going to have a cup of coffee poured over his head,” said Sara. She sat down next to Mozzie on the bench and handed him a cup of coffee. She took the top off her own coffee and blew on it, letting the steam play over her face.
Mozzie took the top off his own cup and inhaled. It wasn’t wine, but it wasn’t bad.
“You have an idea?” he asked after taking a sip.
“I have some ideas,” Sara corrected. “But we might need help from some of your friends.”
Not for the first time, Mozzie looked at Sara with renewed respect. Sara was all about getting the job done, and she wasn’t above getting her hands dirty if necessary. At the Burke’s last night, when people had paired or grouped last night based on what they intended to pursue, she had made a beeline for him, proof positive that she intended to make sure that the less legal avenues were equally explored. If she needed help from one of his friends, he knew they’d be safe in her hands-unless they crossed her.
“Tell me what you need,” said Mozzie. “I’ll do anything I can.”
***
This time, Kramer wanted a public venue. There were times when it better served your purpose to meet with people one-on-one-he had certainly found his private conversations with Diana very useful. Although she had remained outwardly calm and polite, had done everything he asked, he could tell his questions and insinuations had made her squirm. It had been a necessary evil, unsettling a good agent like Berrigan, but he’d trusted that the outcome would justify the means. But today-for this-Kramer wanted a more public arena. Caffrey was slippery, and he had friends-that much was certain-but Neal was in his arena now, and he wanted everything out in the open. Everything.
If that meant making a few people uncomfortable, so be it. He had kept Neal close once they’d arrived at the office, discouraging contact from any of the other employees by the simple expedient of closing his office door.
Neal sat on the uncomfortable chair beside the desk in his boxy suit and clamped his mouth shut, determined not to ask for anything. He was glad Kramer hadn’t humiliated him by sending him for coffee, but later wished he had-at least it would have gotten him out of Kramer’s office and into contact with other people. Neal had already checked where the phones were, where the computers were, where electrical outlets were placed, what blind spots there were in the big, open room. The room itself was architecturally distinctive, older than their building in New York, but the floor plan of a busy, functioning office is just that, and while it was not the same as his old office, it was not an interesting sort of different.
He was surprised to discover that Kramer’s office was rather pedestrian. There were a couple of original art pieces on the wall that Neal grudgingly admitted were in good taste, and there were a handful of nice art prints scattered around-Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers” and a lesser-known Matisse that made Neal feel both more comfortable and more uneasy. There was a lot here that Kramer could entice him with-he was an old hand, knowledgeable about using the carrot as well as the stick-and Neal kept his force fields up. If he’d had phasers, he’d have put them on stun, but he hadn’t even been given back his watch or wallet, making him dependent on Kramer for everything.
They had not talked other than out of necessity on the cab ride in to the office, although Neal had worked to remain civil, to keep his expression fixed and neutral if not polite. Here, it was a challenge to be in close proximity to Kramer, watching him work without anything of his own to do, but he sat with every appearance of calm as the big room downstairs filled with people. He realized he was rather on display where he sat, and knew that there were probably many curious glances coming his way, but he refused to turn around and look. Plus, he suspected that, if he tried, Kramer might try to make him go stand in the corner. The image made him want to smile or grimace, but he handled it. This was awkward, but he wouldn’t be under Kramer’s watchful eye the whole time. As soon as he had a chance to talk to the other workers, he could figure out how to deal with the lack of a phone.
Kramer looked up, over his shoulder, then smiled and closed the folder that he’d been reading. He had been reading files since they had arrived, and while he hadn’t made a big show of it, he had made sure that Neal saw nothing-not even the names on the files. It was just another subtle reminder that he, Neal, wasn’t to be trusted, and that everything he got was going to be doled out to him in little pieces. This was a waiting game, with Kramer hoping to grind away at his resolve like a millstone, but Neal had learned patience running cons, and had honed that patience to a fine art in prison. He thought he could summon up some in this prison, too, if it meant scoring a few points off Kramer.
Kramer stood up and gestured Neal toward the door. Neal managed to stand and reach the door without coming in range of Kramer’s hand on his back. The memory of Peter’s hand on his back, warm and solid and comforting, surged unbidden into Neal’s mind and he shoved it irritably away. There was no point in wanting what he couldn’t have right now-he needed to concentrate on getting back what he had lost.
He opened the door and went through it, then waited for Kramer to take the lead, but Kramer motioned him forward, herding him down the hallway, toward the staircase. Neal put on his best “professional” smile-polite, composed-and tried to think of this as just another undercover job. The problem was, this wasn’t undercover. Everyone here would know him, know things about him, and not in a good way, perhaps. Melissa was here, also, and he suspected that she wouldn’t exactly be a fount of sympathy now that he was here in her Feeling exposed, Neal picked his way down the stairs and saw that every eye-every eye in the office-was fixed on him. Well, him and Kramer. Lacking different instructions, Neal walked down to the main floor where everyone else was. He had resisted the urge to look around to see what Kramer was doing, so he didn’t know that Kramer had stopped at the landing and was addressing everyone from the railing until he heard him speak. He turned around and looked up, thinking of all the times he had looked up to see Peter beckoning to him with that two-fingered summons. He felt a surge of fury, then sorrow, and struggled to keep his face serene.
“Good morning, everyone,” Kramer said genially, his good manners on display. “Glad to be back and very glad to see how much you’ve accomplished while I’ve been gone.” Maybe he was hypersensitive to it, but Neal thought he detected just a hint of a threat in Kramer’s comment. He had spent the morning going over files-had that been more to keep tabs on what his people had been doing-or not doing-while he was gone than a desire to reacquaint himself with what the office had going? More than a couple of people shifted uneasily and Neal tried to memorize faces. It might be worth knowing who else was uncomfortable here.
“I know the rumor mill has probably been working overtime,” Kramer said, striving for humorous and coming across reproving, “so I’m sure you’ve all heard by now that we have a new worker here at DC Art Crimes-Neal Caffrey. Some of you have met Neal, and the rest of you, I think, know him by reputation, so I don’t think I need to tell you…better lock up your valuables!” He smiled, a fatuous little smirk that made a couple of people blink in surprise before curving their lips into the semblance of a smile. Neal felt his face flush at the unexpectedness of the attack, but he braved it as best he could. He put his hands in his pockets, looked at his toes in mock-bashfulness and smiled.
“Not everything,” he said, looking up and shifting his smile from “professional” to “mischievous.” “Just the good stuff. I do have a reputation to uphold.”
There were smiles and grins all around, but most of them were quickly hidden. Neal didn’t have to see Kramer’s face to know he had squelched their amusement with a glare. So…Kramer wasn’t above a low blow in public, but he was obviously more practiced at dishing it out than he was at taking it. Good to know, Neal thought. At this point, anything and everything was good to know.
“Seriously, though,” said Neal, and tamped his smile back to “genuine.” “It’s very nice to meet you.” He shook a few hands near him-firm grip, eye contact, dry palm. “That is-I hope to be meeting all of you very soon.” This said to make them all aware that he was aware that Kramer would probably try to oversee most of his contact with everyone. He saw a couple of eyebrows raise in surprise or bemusement, quickly masked, but he was taking mental notes. They were watching him, waiting to see what he was like, waiting to see what he would do. One of these people just might be his ticket to the outside world, and he was going to make every contact count.
For Chapter 4, click HERE