Crime Meridian

A/N: This story was originally written for a genzine prior to our introduction of Agent Kramer. I have modified the original submission.

Chapter 1

Neal Caffrey was sitting at his desk in the bullpen area of the Manhattan FBI Office. Feet comfortably propped up, perched precariously on the edge of his seat, he yawned and stifled a tired groan. The conman turned consultant, had just completed a tiring and seeming endless day of researching and compiling statistics on active mortgage fraud cases. Convinced his boss and custodian, Special Agent Peter Burke, had intentionally assigned him the task as punishment detail, he was anxious to leave the paperwork behind and head home.

"Caffrey," called out Peter, "get your feet off the desk! The workday isn't over yet!"

Neal remained in his position, fidgeting with a tightly wound homemade ball of rubber bands. "Come on, Peter. Everyone's gone home but you and me. We missed dinner hours ago. Have you ever considered seeing a counselor for workaholism?" Neal grinned. "I found a Twelve Step program for you online. It's called 'Recoveries Anonymous'."

As the senior agent darkly scowled and approached Neal's desk, the younger man sat up, effortlessly tossing and catching the ball. Leaning toward the agent, displaying an uncharacteristic poker-face, he softly added, "I know you're still angry at me but we've put in a long day."

The previous day, Neal had disregarded Burke's order to ignore periodic verbal animosity from Agent Ruiz, Organized Crime Unit, and intentionally antagonized the man by covertly sabotaging Ruiz' personal Keurig coffee maker. Slipping into Ruiz office on lunch break the conman had quickly poured vinegar in the water reservoir and left. The plan backfired when in a fit of anger, after tasting the foul brew, the hostile agent ripped out the cord, knocking the machine to the ground. The culprit was later identified, leaving Peter Burke to deal with the fallout. Ending up having to replace the new Keurig with his own money, he had been furious with his consultant.

Peter bit back a retort and scrutinized the felon placed in his custody as a Criminal Informant. Neal did look exhausted and bleary-eyed. The two men had spent the last ten hours clearing varied backlogged files that had piled up for several weeks during a global art forgery investigation. The scam had been the office priority, pulling in all available agents from regularly assigned duties. With the case successfully on its way to court, Peter Burke had been left with countless accumulated white collar crimes to process.

"There's a new case I want to go over with you."

Tossing him an official file, Peter sat down on the edge of Neal's desk, ignoring his friend's exaggerated sigh. Flinching from pain, stretching sore back muscles caused by peering at the computer monitor for several hours on end, the lawman continued the discussion.

"The Bureau's been notified of antiquated map thefts, not only here in the States, but overseas. We're going to be investigating a recent robbery at the Rockland County Historical Society. The Art Crime Team asked us to look into it."

Neal's interest was piqued. The art crime team, a specialized unit of 14 special agents, supported by three special trial attorneys, was established in 2004 to address, investigate and assist in art and culture property crimes worldwide. Coordinated through the Art Theft Program located in Washington, DC, it had first been a major source of worry to him during his last months before his felony conviction. Fairly recently, their head agent, Philip Kramer, had planned to have him removed from Peter's custody, and transferred to Washington to work under his supervision. Fortunately, Kramer had been exposed manipulating evidence within the Manhattan office and forced into early retirement. If the task force now wanted the New York office's help, the case must involve extensive parameters. He quickly scanned the document.

"This says an 1820's copy of a rare atlas was stolen. Why are the 'Big Guys' involved in this larceny case?" asked the consultant.

"Hughes received a call from Washington," explained Peter. "The Art Team recently identified the loss of several rare maps. It seems in the last several years a few maps have disappeared one by one from prestigious libraries and, until recently, went undetected. They're in the process of investigating the scope of these thefts." He looked suspiciously at Neal, one eyebrow lifted.

"Whoa Peter! I swear this is something I've never had my hand in."

"Uh-huh … What about using someone else's hand, Neal?"

"Come on, Peter."

Neal quickly scanned the details of the theft. "I'm innocent. Cross my name off that list," he stated, displaying the guileless demeanor he used to gain trust with past marks. He paused a few moments, deep in thought.

"Not that I hadn't thought of attempting this kind of interesting scheme," he added smiling his megawatt grin. "The right opportunity just never presented itself."

Peter had a nagging suspicion his consultant wasn't being completely honest but chose to file away the doubt for a later time. He knew Neal's past expertise in forgery, art trafficking and antiquity theft would be invaluable in this investigation. Sighing, he sincerely wanted to believe Neal had not been involved in any of these past intricate crimes.

"We're going to New City tomorrow and question the curator of the historical society. I want to get a feel for the layout and meet some of the employees," said Peter.

"You're thinking it was an inside job?" questioned Neal.

Peter shook his head. "I don't know. We may be on to a one-man crime spree." He looked over at Neal, and got to his feet. "Let's call it a night. I'll pick you up early, around 7AM. We'll come first to the office and look over the cases the Task Force identified. Then we'll head out."

"We've worked so late today. Listen," said Neal, "I've got a great idea, Peter. Why don't we do something with which you're obviously unfamiliar." He paused a few seconds. "Sleep in tomorrow morning."

Peter smiled a wicked grin. "Haven't you heard? 'Work is the grand cure of all the maladies and miseries that ever beset mankind.'"

Neal was quick on the uptake. "Thomas Carlyle?" Peter nodded smugly.

"Isn't he the Scottish historian and writer? The one called crotchety and argumentative, with a disagreeable personality?" asked Neal.

Peter's smile faded. "That was a judgmental attitude put forth by jealous associates."

"Wait," continued Neal. "It was documented by historians that Carlyle was known for making people around him very miserable."

"Stop," Peter put his hand up. "I get the picture."

"He suffered from constant stomach ailments and gastric ulcers. I believe he said his great ambition was to die of exhaustion rather than boredom." Neal laid down the file. "I think I'm beginning to see why you admire him so much and—"

"Do you want a ride home?" asked Peter. Neal smiled and nodded as Peter pointed to the door. "Then go get in the car before I rescind my kind offer to drive you."