Burke townhouse, Brooklyn. Tuesday morning. July 13, 2004.

Once Neal finally disclosed his past as a member of Urban Legend, Peter jumped into action. He called the office, instructing Travis to run the names Shawn, Grace and Neal Legend for any recent hits in hotels, flights, rental cars, etc., to prove the missing cousins weren't simply hiding out under their aliases. Travis would have Julia Winslow do the same thing with her data sources.

Then Peter talked to Tricia, telling her about the restraining order filed against Jason Ford, and the need to continue a campaign to make Ford realize he was involved in something much more serious than a simple intervention with a wayward son. In addition, Tricia would tell Jones and the Missing Persons agents to focus on locations Robert Winslow or his accomplice would have access to for hiding Henry and Angela. Splashing the cousins' pictures in the news was placed on hold.

Elizabeth quietly put away the dishes and leftover food, leaving Neal in peace. When Peter finished his calls, he looked at Neal in concern. What the kid had shared this morning must have churned him up emotionally, when he was already scared about what had happened to his cousins. He sat slumped at the dining table, staring downward.

"Flight instinct still eating at you?"

"Big time," Neal said, without looking up.

"Once we get your cousins back, are you interested in going after Masterson with the FBI resources behind you, as an official case?"

Finally Neal raised his head. "Can we?"

"First step is documenting what we know." Peter handed Neal a pad of paper. "Write down all the stuff you normally see in the files, and we'll take it from there."

Neal took the pad and started scrawling notes.

###

Angela stretched and rolled over. Almost 9am, according to the alarm clock beside the bed. She sat up and looked around the hotel room.

When Henry had first brought her into Urban Legend, she'd been excited about the chance to perform and show off her musical skills, but the traveling and hotel rooms wore on her. Maybe someone else her age would enjoy seeing the world, but she'd been there and done that. As the daughter of an Air Force officer, she'd lived in many different countries growing up. She'd been jealous of Henry, who'd spent his entire childhood in Baltimore. And then she'd learned that Neal had lived in one place from the time he was three until he was in his late teens. It sounded heavenly.

Her throat was extraordinarily dry and she reached toward the glass of water on the nightstand, but then hesitated. Something was off.

By now she should have remembered what city Henry and their mysterious "agent" had scheduled her to perform in, but it wasn't coming back to her. She didn't remember checking into the hotel, or going to bed. Really, the only recent memory – and it was hazy – was waking up, drinking from that glass of water, and then feeling dizzy and going back to sleep.

She slid out of bed and realized her balance was off. She walked slowly toward her carry-on bag, which was in the closet. When she unzipped it, it looked as if someone had rifled through it. The bag she usually checked on flights was nowhere to be seen. She pulled a toothbrush and toothpaste out of her carry-on and took them to the bathroom. Bathrooms told you a lot about hotels. This one was clean and luxurious, with plenty of space to move around and a generous pile of fluffy white towels.

For a moment she worried that if she ran the water, someone might realize she was awake, but shook off the fear. Her mouth felt scuzzy, so running water was imperative.

Somewhat refreshed, she opened the curtains in the room. The hotel was near a body of water. She noticed sailboats, and in the distance across the water she could see the New York City skyline. That answered the question of where she was, but not why or when. She glanced around the room for her cell phone, which would show her the date and details of her next scheduled performance, but couldn't find it anywhere.

She'd been sleeping her in her clothes, which wasn't normally her style, and she pulled out a fresh shirt from her luggage so she wouldn't look too rumpled. With her hair combed and the remnants of her makeup removed – and wondering how tired had she been to forget that step last night – she was ready to wander out of her room and find answers.

There was a slight delay as she searched in vain for her room key. Taking her purse, she reasoned that with her ID and credit card, she could convince the hotel management to replace the key. She opened the door to her room and saw...

She chuckled. So, the room was a suite. She wasn't in a hallway, but in a small living room. There was a sectional sofa and TV, and a desk. Still no sign of her cell phone or room key, however. She walked toward the door that really would lead to the hall and... Nothing. She checked to make sure the interior locks were open, and still the door refused to budge.

There was a phone on the desk. It indicated she was in room 310. Should she call the front desk and explain she was locked in? She picked up the handset, but there was no dial tone. This was getting creepier by the minute. Looking out the window in this room, there was a balcony, but at three floors up she didn't see a safe means to climb down. She didn't see any other guests down there, so yelling for help wasn't going to achieve anything.

There was another door in the suite, presumably leading to a second bedroom. It was locked, but she thought she heard someone moaning on the other side. "Henry?" she called.

She couldn't make out the response, but it sounded kind of like Henry's voice. He'd taught her how to pick simple locks a few years ago after she'd locked her keys in her car, and this door wasn't challenging. Soon she was inside a bedroom that was a mirror image of hers. And there was Henry, tied to a chair and completely out of it.

She shook him while issuing a stream of pleas and complaints, ending with, "C'mon, I'm officially freaking out now. You're SHAWN, the Super Hero, remember?"

Henry groaned.

"Thirsty?" Angela saw a glass of water on the table.

"Nnnno," Henry mumbled. "Won't drink that again."

"Yeah, I'm with you on that." She took the glass to the adjoining bathroom, where she rinsed it out and refilled it with tap water. "It's safe," she promised when she took it back to Henry. "I dumped what they had in here. This is fresh."

After drinking the water, Henry seemed to focus on his surroundings and asked her to lock the door. Then Angela started to tug on the ropes securing him to the chair, although she wasn't sure what she'd do about the cuffs that held his hands behind his back. "Stop," Henry said. "Can't let them know you're awake."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Get out. Contact Neal."

"Even if I could find a way out of here, I'm not leaving you. We're on the third floor, we're locked in, the phone lines are dead, and my cell phone is missing."

Henry squinted and screwed up his face as if he had a bad headache. "Not good."

"No, not good at all."

"My phone, right front pants pocket. He took it, but I slipped it back 'fore he tied me up."

"Your right?" Angela asked. If she was going to go groping around in her cousin's pants pocket while he was still in the pants, she only wanted to do this once.

"Yeah."

The good news was that it took a minimum of groping to find the phone. The bad news was, "No signal. I don't get it. We're not in the middle of nowhere here. I can see New York City from the window."

"Jamming the signal?" His words came slowly, worrying Angela. He wasn't shaking off the effects of the drug as quickly as she had. "Open the curtain a minute. I wanna see."

She obliged.

He blinked as the light streamed in, and finally focused. "I think... I think I've been here before," Henry said. As she closed the curtain, he told her a name that wasn't familiar to her, but he promised Neal would recognize it.

As they worked on a plan to get a message to Neal, they heard the door to the suite open. Angela dove into the closet before their captor unlocked the bedroom door to enter Henry's room. The closet door had been about an inch ajar, right? She huddled in the back, staying as still as she could.

Henry acted as out of it as he'd been when she first entered his room. The newcomer offered him a drink from the glass on the table, probably expecting that he was dosing Henry with more of the drug that had knocked them out. Then he untied Henry and shuffled him into the restroom for a quick break.

Under cover of the noise of running water, Angela woke Henry's phone. He'd told her the code to unlock it. It might not be able to make calls, but it had other features that still worked. She turned on the voice memo recorder, and held the phone near the gap between the closet door and the floor.

###

For about two seconds Henry entertained the idea of surprising Ford, overpowering him and escaping with Angela. But as soon as Ford hauled him to his feet, he realized that his body wasn't shaking the effects of the drug as fast as his mind was. He couldn't even stand on his own.

After more than a decade of eluding his stalker, he'd heard Ford's voice for the first time yesterday. More than once Neal had suggested confronting this guy in an open, public space and asking why he was following them, or what it would take to make him stop. Henry had never wanted to take the risk, and now he needed to pretend to be as slow mentally as he was physically. Any meaningful conversation was off the table.

Ford retied Henry to the chair and brought the glass of water to his lips again.

"Nnnnooo," Henry said, turning his face away.

Ford wasn't going to let him avoid drinking. "Won't take much. I made yours a higher dose. With your history with drugs, I figured you'd have a greater tolerance than your cousin."

Even though he knew Angela had replaced the drugged water with fresh, Henry didn't make it easy for Ford. He swallowed some, but spit quite a bit on Ford's shirt. "Robert... tell you... that?" Henry asked, making a show of choking and coughing and struggling to get the words out.

"You shouldn't call your father by his first name. It isn't respectful."

Henry simply panted, as if trying to catch his breath. Unfortunately he really had gotten a little winded walking to the bathroom and back. Escape was looking less and less likely.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He said you used cocaine right in front of him."

Henry hated that Angela was hearing this. He supposed that being coy with Neal on the topic and pretending to be strung out when talking to Peter was coming back to bite him now. They'd probably mentioned something about it in their reports, and Ford and Robert had latched onto it. Of course Robert had left out some details when he told Ford about Henry's "history" with drugs.

"Planning... to give me... overdose? Get me... outta the way... take my place?"

"Just teaching you a lesson, and protecting Win-Win from you. I've got a little something special for you in the bathroom. It's a dose of heroin with your name on it. When Mr. Winslow says it's time, I'll give it to you, and then take you back to the airport. There will be plenty of witnesses to your drug habit, and instead of going back to work, you'll finally go to rehab and get the treatment you need." Ford shrugged. "But yeah, once you're fired and Robert gets to tell his side of the story, he'll be reinstated at Win-Win and I might decide to go back. He deserves someone who'll..." He trailed off at a beeping sound and pulled a pager off his belt.

A pager. Henry had to admit Robert was clever. Almost no one carried pagers anymore. Win-Win didn't track them, and the FBI probably didn't either unless they knew a suspect had one. This was how Ford and Robert stayed in touch while blocking cell phones here. Robert paged Ford, and Ford would call back on a landline. At least that told him that not all the landlines were dead here. If Angela could get out of this suite, she had a chance of calling for help. "Don' I... get a call? Prisonersss supposssed to get one," he slurred.

"Not this time," Ford said as he put the pager back on his belt. "Don't bother trying. The phone lines in the suite are dead, and I have a good friend who works at the phone company. He's monitoring all calls to and from your family and several FBI agents. Mr. Winslow knows which local agents you've been consorting with, and I know which agents traveled here from Washington. I've got access to data from several credit card companies, including the one the FBI uses for making travel arrangements. It's the same credit card company you used for booking your flight here. You almost made it too easy."

Henry huffed out a breath before saying, "Twelve yearsss. Caught me once. Robert not usssually sssso tolerant."

"He's been more tolerant with you than you deserved." Ford turned around and walked out.

Angela waited until the door to the suite closed before she appeared from her hiding place. She held up his phone. "Good job getting him to talk, I recorded everything he said. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm not as drowsy as I pretended to be, but I can't walk yet."

"I'm gonna get rid of that heroin," Angela said, starting toward the bathroom.

"No!" Henry insisted.

"We can't let him give it to you."

"If something like that disappears, he's gonna know you're free. Get out now. Find a phone and call someone."

"Who? If I call Neal or any other family or the FBI, this guy's friend will let him know. If that happens, he'll probably step up the plan and come up here to give you the heroin immediately."

"He might have been bluffing, to chip away at my hope so I won't try to escape."

Angela didn't look convinced. "I don't want to leave you."

He sighed. "Look at my phone. Remember what tomorrow is?"

She checked the date on the phone's display, and she took a sharp breath. In the confusion of realizing they'd been abducted she'd forgotten that they were nearly at the first anniversary of her father's death.

"I can't be the hero," Henry said. "It's up to you this time. Make your dad proud."

She nodded, looking too choked up to talk, and then hugged him. "I'll get you out of here," she promised, and then she left.

When she was gone, Henry lost track of time. There was still enough of the drug left in his system to make his mind drift when he was bored. He wasn't exactly dreaming. It was more like swimming in memories.

Summer. He was a couple of weeks away from turning sixteen. He'd gone to Las Vegas with his dad and it had actually been fun. Maybe he'd finally done it. Maybe he'd gotten his dad's approval. He'd been good at poker. He'd been good at Win-Win. He went to the office with his dad one day a week all summer and worked on various cases. When he had time he kept tabs on Danny Brooks, which he'd learned was his cousin Neal's name in WITSEC. After he'd found the police reports, he wanted to make sure Neal didn't get hurt like that again.

He also took a couple of classes in summer school. French. Yuck. He sucked at foreign languages, but at least in the smaller classes of summer school he got more attention and help from the teacher. You had to have two years of a foreign language to graduate. The other class was journalism. He liked interviewing people for the summer edition of the school paper. His dad wanted him to become a cop and then work at Win-Win, but recently the company had hired some journalism majors and Pops had said that investigative journalism was a good background for Win-Win investigators, so maybe that would be an option. His dad usually agreed with anything Pops liked, and Henry really didn't want to be a cop. The only other option his dad had mentioned as tolerable was the army, but that didn't sound like something he wanted to do either.

Swimming back in his memory to one specific summer day, he remembered interviewing the new drama teacher. She seemed pretty cool. She said in the fall they'd have open auditions for a play based on the story Cheaper by the Dozen. It was a comedy, and he remembered Dressa reading portions of the book to him ages ago when he'd been seven and had tonsillitis. The kids and dad in the book had tonsillitis, too, and he'd enjoyed hearing about their antics while he ate ice cream and listened to Dressa make up different voices for all the characters.

At home after interviewing the drama teacher, he mentioned he might try out for the play. It sounded like fun.

"What about your baseball practice?" Robert had asked.

Henry shrugged. He was a decent baseball player, but the practices and travel to games took a lot of time and he didn't particularly enjoy it. "They don't do as much in the fall. And I was thinking, you know, I might try out for something different in the spring. Maybe swimming." He'd like to be a stronger swimmer, because he enjoyed boating. But as soon as he said it, he regretted it. Robert hated reminders of the fact that he got seasick. He hated any weakness, especially in himself. "But acting, you know," Henry continued quickly, "it would be good practice for Win-Win, right?"

"What the hell do a bunch of pansy actors have in common with anyone at Win-Win? You just memorize a bunch of lines and say them over and over again. An investigator has to think on his feet."

"But acting... It's like going undercover, right?" Most people would describe Henry as having the gregarious nature and spontaneous speaking ability of his Caffrey grandparents, the ambassador and the actress. Unfortunately around his dad he got nervous and stumbled over his words, and even though he intuitively knew that being a good actor would make him a good investigator, he couldn't explain it under his dad's piercing stare.

He changed the subject to keep his dad calm, and when he was alone later that night he wondered when the divorce would be final, and if it would make a difference in his ability to talk to his dad if he was around him less. Would time apart make him less intimidated and tongue-tied? He knew his mom had officially filed for the divorce a week ago, and she was talking about moving out when she could find a place she liked. She said Henry could trade off between staying with her and with his dad, and they'd come up with a schedule that worked for all of them. His dad didn't talk much about the divorce. He called it a mistake and said Mom would come to her senses when the rubber hit the road.

In the fall Henry kept working for the school paper, dropped baseball, and tried out for the play. He got a part. Not a lead role, but he was still proud.

Robert was less thrilled. He insisted that if Henry had time for a play, then he had time to work for Win-Win two afternoons a week, instead of just one. Now that Henry was sixteen, it was time for him to stop playing around and to take on a serious case. The school paper and local media were reporting that drug use was up among students, and Robert assigned Henry to find out who was dealing drugs at the high school. To prove that he found the dealers, Henry was supposed to make a purchase and bring the evidence to Win-Win. His dad even provided the money to buy the drugs.

Thanks to his acting skills – although he left that out of his report to his dad – within a week Henry found the kids who were selling drugs and bought cocaine from them. He handed the proof to his dad at Win-Win later the same afternoon. And then was shocked when Robert Winslow told him to use the coke. "It's no different than when you learned to pick pockets or hotwire a car. You need to understand what criminals do, and how they do it. How are you going to know how to deal with a junkie unless you understand what's happening in his head? Be a man and take it."

Henry knew his dad wasn't like most parents, but it took a while to wrap his head around this. No one would believe it. But he did as he was told.

His mom noticed Henry was high as soon as he and his dad got home. He'd probably used too much. He hadn't known how much people normally used. Or maybe it had been laced with something noxious. She took him to the hospital, and when they got home she had a huge fight with Robert.

That's when he started thinking of his dad as Robert, rather than as Dad. Because dads weren't supposed to do what Robert had done.

His parents usually had quiet arguments, or at least waited until he was away before they started yelling. Not this time. His mom was practically screaming.

What Robert yelled back was mostly the truth. Henry realized that Robert got away with most of his lies because he would give you a story that was ninety percent true – enough that most people would be convinced – but you had to watch out for the other ten percent.

That night Robert admitted to sending Henry into an undercover drug deal to make a purchase. He said Henry had bowed to peer pressure after the purchase and that's why he took the drugs.

Noelle was angry not only that Robert would take such a risk with a sixteen-year-old boy, but also that he didn't seek medical attention for their son when it was obvious he was high and having a bad reaction. Robert claimed that Henry deserved to experience the crash as a punishment and incentive never to do drugs again.

In the morning Robert went to work, but not before stopping by Henry's room to explain that his order to take the drugs had been a test, one which Henry had failed. He said Henry was weak and deserved what happened to him. Ashamed of his weakness and failure, Henry went along with Robert's version of the story and never told anyone that the peer pressure he'd bowed to had come from his own father.

Henry stayed home sick that day, and his mom packed as many suitcases and boxes as would fit in her car. She took Henry and they checked into a hotel. She'd already picked out a townhouse she was going to move into, and she pushed up the closing date. A week later they were living at the townhouse and there wasn't any of the swapping between households that she'd originally mentioned over the summer. Armed with the doctor's report from the hospital where she'd taken Henry, she got full custody temporarily until the divorce proceedings were complete, and then she got permanent custody.

She also put an immediate halt to Henry's part-time work at Win-Win. Pops had fought that. He'd brought Noelle and Henry to his office and reminded them that Winston-Winslow was a family business. Kids were often roaming the halls, and given "assignments" that ranged from filing to trailing after various relatives to learn about the work the company did.

"It's flattering, actually, the faith your father had in you," Graham said. "He's described some of the work he gave you, mostly research from the sounds of it, and I was impressed at the results you achieved. I can understand on some level his desire to give you more experience when you showed such promise. It was wrong, of course. We can't have minors going undercover, and I've made that clear to all of our employees. It's an official policy now that we don't take risks like that with children. I promise your father's overeagerness will be held in check when you return. I'll see to it."

Henry's mom had looked like she wanted to shut down any idea of Henry returning to Win-Win, but instead she said he should take a two-week break and then they would decide. At the end of two weeks, Henry cited his heavy class load as his reason for not wanting to go back to Win-Win. He had no wish to work for Robert again, no matter what assurances Pops gave. Besides that, everyone at the company knew Henry was the reason for the new rules about what minors were allowed to do, and they knew why. He was embarrassed to face them.

And that was his infamous history with drugs.

Looking around the room, he tried to get a sense for how much time had passed while he'd been drifting through memories.

Maybe he should have let Angela get rid of the heroin. What had seemed logical and sensible when he'd been talking to her worried him now. He didn't want to be injected with something so addictive. He dreaded the thought of the recovery. And what would Neal think? Aunt Meredith had left him with such a serious hang up about addictions, maybe Neal couldn't help blaming Henry. Maybe he'd think that telling Angela not to get rid of it was an indication that Henry wanted it.

But he didn't want it. He wanted out of here. He wanted to find a way out of this mess without endangering Angela or anyone else.

And maybe a heroin addiction was the upside. For all Henry knew, Robert had provided a massive dose, enough to kill him. Maybe the plan was to make it look like an accidental overdose. Or even suicide. Henry gritted his teeth at what his mom and grandparents would go through if they believed he'd killed himself.

He was angry at Robert and Ford for everything they'd done to him. Angry at them for making him helpless. Angry at them for involving Angela. But most of all... He was scared. He hadn't been this scared in years.

###

Angela wanted to push a chair and table in front of the door to the suite, to slow down their captor the next time he visited, but that would go counter to Henry's insistence that they not let the guy know she was awake and aware of their situation.

She stepped out on to the balcony and looked around. The balcony doors locked, but they would be easy to pick if she could make it to another balcony. She didn't have to worry about the other rooms being occupied. Henry had described this place as a combination club and resort that was temporarily closed while it changed ownership. Win-Win had provided security for the previous management. That's how Robert knew it was empty.

The challenge was how to get to another balcony. Going horizontally wouldn't work. The balconies were yards apart. Going down would be a challenge. Each floor must have high ceilings. She didn't think a single sheet would be long enough to get her down to the next balcony, and she didn't have confidence in tying a knot strong enough to bear her weight if she tried using two sheets.

She also suspected that getting to another room still wouldn't yield a working phone. If this place had been closed for any length of time, then it wasn't only the phones in this suite that were disconnected. Probably all lines but one or two in the office were off, to save on paying the monthly fees for dozens of unused room phones. She'd need to find her way down to the offices, avoiding Ford and Robert.

She looked beyond the resort's property line. Henry had mentioned a bed & breakfast next door, but he'd also mentioned seeing a lot of security cameras monitoring the entrances and exits of this building. That would be how their captors monitored such a large space without involving others in their crime. Sneaking out of the building unseen would be tough. Henry had taught her a few tricks, but nothing like what he'd taught Neal.

When she'd first joined Henry in Urban Legend, she'd enjoyed the adventure and hearing stories about Neal, but had also grown a little jealous of this cousin she didn't remember. He seemed to have all sorts of skills she didn't have. Eventually she'd realized that Henry told some of these stories to drive her to practice more and improve her musical skills, to measure up and even surpass the cousin she had replaced. She'd finally decided to be her own person and use her own strengths, rather than competing with this mysterious Neal.

Fine. So Neal would find a way to scale the building or break out of the room. Those weren't her skills. She did have a decent knowledge of electronics, dealing with the equipment for performances more than Henry did, and also exploring computer-generated music in college. She thought about the fact that Henry's cell phone couldn't get a signal. It was probably jammed. She'd met managers of concert venues who'd set up illegal jammers to block calls when they wanted to record a performance without the interruption of cell phones ringing. A device about the size of a cell phone would block the signal in this suite; Robert had no reason to invest in something bigger. For the best results it should be located somewhere in the middle of the suite, rather than in one of the bedrooms.

Angela searched for a jammer and found it attached to the back of the armoire that held the TV. With a little effort she managed to reach the off switch. She waited a minute and then checked Henry's phone. Now it was getting a signal.

But who to call? According to Ford, any call to her mom or to Graham Winslow would trigger an alert and send Ford up here to investigate. He'd probably go ahead and drug Henry.

She opened the door to Henry's room, planning to ask his advice of who would be safe to call. He was asleep, and she wasn't able to get anything coherent out of him. Maybe rinsing out the glass hadn't removed all of the sedative. It might have clung to the sides. She regretted not washing the glass more thoroughly, but at least he'd gotten a much smaller dose.

Not wanting to wait, she scrolled through the entries in his address list, hoping for something that sounded familiar but that Robert and Ford wouldn't think to track. Maybe a 911 call was her best bet?

She almost dialed the emergency number, and had a second thought. If Ford realized that he'd somehow lost Henry's phone, would he also track calls from it? Would the cops get here before Ford realized the call had been placed?

Would Ford's friend in the phone company be watching for texts in addition to calls? Scrolling through Henry's address book again, the name Joe Burke stood out. A couple of weeks ago, Henry had told her about the guy Aunt Noelle was dating. Presumably Robert didn't know about that development yet, since he'd been out of touch. And Joe was the brother of the FBI agent who had been at Neal's birthday party.

Just in case someone was reviewing texts from Henry's number, she went as cryptic as she could: Absolution 2,5,3,9,10. @ J Jett 1993. Pls fwd to your brother.

She pressed Send, and got the response that the message had gone through. Then she checked on Henry again and returned to her room. Angela was going through her suitcase looking for anything that might help her get out of the suite when Henry's phone vibrated with an indication of a message.

###

Neal looked up from documenting the Masterson case when Peter's cell phone rang.

Peter glanced at the caller ID in surprise and answered, "Joe?" He listened to his brother, and took the pad of paper away from Neal to scrawl a series of words and numbers. Then Peter read them back. "Is that right?" He made a correction and read it back again. "Okay. Thanks. Let me know if you hear anything else."

"What happened?" Neal asked as soon as Peter ended the call. Joe had gone up to the Burke cabin last night to look for the cousins and had called Peter earlier to say he hadn't found any sign of them.

"Joe just got a text from Henry's phone. Does this mean anything to you?"

Neal read the message and borrowed Peter's laptop to do a search. Then he wrote: Apocalypse, Please. Stockholm Syndrome. Time is Running Out. Blackout. Butterflies and Hurricanes. At Flashback.

"A code?" Peter asked, as Neal wrote.

"Yeah, one Henry made up. Absolution is an album released recently by Muse, and the numbers correspond to song titles. The first one in the message is 'Apocalypse, Please.'" Neal paused. "My mom and her siblings had obnoxious nicknames for each other when they were teens, and when my grandfather became an ambassador, they formalized the names to use in case of an emergency. Apocalypse refers to my mom, or to me."

"So it's a message to you, and by using the code names they know you'll recognize it's from family."

"Right. 'Stockholm Syndrome' applies to kidnap victims, confirming they were taken against their will. 'Time is Running Out', well that's obvious. 'Blackout' I'd take to mean they were drugged. 'Butterflies and Hurricanes', that's..." He frowned. "That's the butterfly effect, that a butterfly flapping its wings in one continent could change the path of a hurricane in another continent."

"That's part of chaos theory," El commented.

Neal was surprised. "That means this message isn't from Henry. Uncle David's code name was Chaos, so the message is from Angela, using Henry's phone."

"At Flashback?" Peter asked, referring to the final part of the code.

"Yeah, that's the title of Joan Jett's 1993 album."

"And Angela had all of that memorized?" El asked.

"Possibly," Neal said. "She picked albums we both liked. But she and Henry probably both had MP3 players with them. She could have used one of those to look up the songs she wanted."

Peter picked up the translated message to reread it. "Joe said they weren't at the cabin, where we dealt with your flashbacks."

"No, not in the mountains," Neal said. "Long Island. That's where Travis and Julia thought they were."

"Enscombe?" Peter asked, referring to the Long Island estate where Neal had been given an overdose of the Flashback drug.

Neal nodded. "And Angela doesn't know about that, so Henry must be with her to tell her, even if for some reason he couldn't send the text himself."

"Why text instead of call?" Peter wondered. "And why text Joe instead of you or me?"

"They have reason to think calls are being monitored?" Neal guessed.

"They're messaging a number they think won't be tracked. Okay. This is good. I'll check in with the team, and we'll make plans for a rescue op at Enscombe. Wake up Diana, and use her phone to text back that we're..."

As Peter spoke, Neal's cell phone buzzed. "It's Travis." He answered and put it on speaker.

"I've just heard from Julia Winslow," Travis said. "She got a hit on Henry's phone on Long Island, in the Kings' Point area.

Neal left the phone with Peter, who was giving Travis instructions, and took the steps two at a time on his way to the guest room. "Diana," he yelled before he even reached the second floor. "We've found them!"

He had to give her credit for moving fast. She was already opening the door when he reached for the knob. "Where are they?" she asked.

"We'll fill you in on the way," Neal said. "First, I need your phone." He snatched it out of Diana's hands as soon as she pulled the device from her purse.

"Well it isn't going to do you much good unless I unlock it," she said, taking it back and entering a code. "Now try it."

Neal took it back and texted a message to Henry's phone. Angela would understand it to be a song by Sam & Dave: "Hold On, I'm Coming."

A/N: That last song is a reference to the one Neal plays in the pilot right after he escapes from prison, when he intends to find and rescue Kate

Disclaimers: I'm not an expert in drugs, in jamming cell phones, in FBI procedure, etc.

Several scenes in this chapter were inspired by a reminder from a reader that in canon, kidnap victims take an active role in freeing themselves.