Breaking and Entering
Summary: Neal gets frustrated when they can not catch the bad guy the legal way, so he tries it the illegal way. WARNING: Contains the disciplinary spanking of an adult.
NOTE: This story is set after the final episode in season one. Fowler is in prison and Neal is back in his ankle tracker.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][]
[][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][] []
Neal walked into Peter's office and sat down. "What's up?" The younger man asked. "New case?"
"Yes, are you familiar with the artist Eric Townsend?"
"Sure, he was a little famous in the early nineteen hundreds. But after his death about forty years ago, his paintings became a hot commodity. He painted horses and other western scenes. Why?"
"A man named Nathan Brown had a painting by Townsend stolen from his office."
"This guy had a Townsend painting in his office?" Neal asked, a little surprised. "They range from fifty thousand to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. What type of office does he have?"
"Defense attorney, a lot of his clients has been accused of white collar crimes." Peter said, Neal could hear the distaste in the older man's voice. "Forensics already went over the place, but I want us to take a look."
Neal nodded, as the two men stood up and left the office.
"So you don't like the guy?" Neal asked, as they walked.
"We've had a few run ins, he makes a habit of trying to discredit the FBI when he's defending his clients."
"He any good as a lawyer?"
"Yeah." Then Peter smiled and added. "But every one of his clients that I arrested were convicted."
[][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][]
[][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][] []
Peter and Neal walked into Brown's office, just as the forensics team were leaving.
"Agent Burke." A man in his late fifties said. He was a stout man with thinning grey hair.
"Brown." Peter greeted. "This is my partner Neal Caffrey."
"I've heard about you." Brown said. "I've heard you were very good at solving crimes. And I know Agent Burke is, so I am glad you both are here." He looked at Peter and added. "I know we have had our differences, but I also know that you are a professional and that you won't let our past effect your job performance."
"We will do everything we can to return your painting." Peter assured him.
"Thank you. It was insured, but I would rather have the painting. My wife bought it for me last month, just before…." He stopped talking and took a couple deep breaths.
I…I'll be right back." Then he rushed from the room.
"I take it his wife has passed away." Neal said, after the man was gone. He felt bad for the man, he knew the pain of losing someone he loved.
"Almost a month ago, car crash." Peter answered.
Neal nodded, then started looking around.
"Brown said the door was locked, and the building was locked up when the theft occurred. But there were no signs of forced entry."
"Inside job?" Neal asked, as he looked at the tall windows.
"Possibly."
"We're seven stories up, so I doubt the thief climbed in through the window."
"You have to have a card key to use the elevators after hours." Peter said.
"Anyone missing one?"
"No."
"I apologize for my absence." Brown said, reentering the room.
"Not a problem." Peter said. "How many offices are in this building?"
"Forty seven."
"Have you ever had any problems or altercations with anyone here?"
"No."
"How about any clients?"
"A few." Brown smiled slightly. "Like the ones you've arrested."
Peter was about to respond, but he stopped and stared at Neal. Brown also stared at the younger man.
"What the hell is he doing?" Brown asked.
"Not a clue." Was Peter's answer.
Neal had opened one of the windows and was climbing out the opened window. He disappeared for a moment, then they heard loud clanging from outside and rushed over. When they reached the window, they saw the window washer's metal lift basket being lowered with Neal in it.
"I think I know how the thief got in." He said.
"I hardly ever lock that window, never thought anyone could get in through it. Tom had nothing to do with this, I'm sure of that." Brown said. "But he usually leaves the lift basket on the ground floor. "
"So anyone could have access to it." Peter said.
"He leaves it locked up." Brown said.
"Hey!" An angry voice shouted from outside the window. "What are you doing with my lift basket, you fool kid?"
Peter and Brown leaned out the window and looked up. A man was three stories above them, also leaning out of a window.
"It's okay Tom!" Brown shouted up. "They're with me!"
"I'll return his basket." Neal said.
"I'll meet you up there." Peter said.
"Want a ride?" Neal asked with a smile.
"Not a chance." Peter shook his head.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][]
[][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][] []
Several minutes later, Peter and Neal were back in Peter's car.
"Tom's not very big on security." Neal said. "Anyone with a hat pin could pick that lock and use the lift basket."
"A painting that expensive requires a fence with connections." Peter said. "Brown said it was insured for a hundred and ten thousand dollars."
"I doubt him trying to fence it this soon."
"Yeah, I know. He said his wife bought it at a gallery on Hunter Street. Let's check it out, see if anyone else showed an interest in that painting."
Peter drove to the gallery and parked his car, the two men got out and walked into the gallery.
"Can I help you?" A young woman asked as she walked over to them.
"Agent Peter Burke, FBI. This is my partner Neal Caffrey, we have a few questions about a painting you sold last month."
"Please, follow me." She lead them to a far corner away from the potential customers roaming around. "Which painting?: She asked.
"Western Nights by Eric Townsend." Peter said.
"Not my taste." The woman said. "But very popular among a lot of people. That painting was sold to Linda Brown a little over a month ago, she said it was present for her husband. Linda has bought several paintings and sculptures from us over the years."
"Was there anyone else who showed an interest in that painting" Peter asked.
"Yes."
"Who?"
"Does this have anything to do with Linda's death?" The woman asked, concern in her voice. "I thought that was an accident? I know she died just a few days after the purchase."
"This has nothing to do with Mrs. Brown's death." Peter assured the woman. "The painting was stolen."
"Oh. There was this one guy, very crude and low class."
"He wanted to buy the painting?"
"Yes. Linda brought the painting three weeks before she picked it up, she wanted us to keep it until she presented it to him. The morning she picked it up, this man came in asking about the same painting. He became angry when I told him that we had the painting, but sold it. He was still here when Linda showed up. He offered to buy the painting from her for a hundred and seventy thousand dollars, but Linda refused. She said her husband would really love the painting and that it wasn't for sell for any price."
"How did the man take the news?" Neal wanted to know.
"Not well at all, he left the gallery in a huff. Then when Linda left, he attacked her. He had been hiding outside waiting on her. He tried to wrestle the painting away from her, but William stopped him."
"Who's William?" Peter asked.
"William is the daytime security guard." She nodded to a large man standing by the door.
"Was the man arrested and charged?" Neal asked.
"No, Linda refused to press charges."
"Did you happen to get the man's name?" Peter asked.
"No, but his face and the scuffle is on the security tapes."
"We will need those."
"Of course."
[][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][]
[][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][] []
An hour later, Peter and Neal were standing outside an apartment belonging to Matthew Brittle. Brittle was identified as the man on the security tapes. He had a long record of arrests ranging from petty theft to assault and battery.
"If I had a hundred and seventy thousand dollars to spend on a painting that was only worth a hundred and ten thousand dollars, I would not be living in this place." Neal said. The halls were littered with thrash and the paint was chipped and worn on the walls.
Peter knocked on the door and it was opened by a man in his early thirties.
"What?" The man asked.
"FBI." Peter said, showing his badge. "I have a few questions to ask."
Brittle's eyes grew wide, then he tried to slam the door shut. But Peter show it coming and quickly grabbed the door and opened it the rest of the way. Brittle turned and ran, with Peter right behind him. The younger man ran to the window and was about halfway out the window, when Peter grabbed him and brought him back into the apartment.
"I didn't do anything." Brittle exclaimed, as Peter cuffed him.
"Then why did you run?" Peter wanted to know."
"Force of habit."
"Nice try."
"Peter, look." Neal said, holding up a painting of a sunrise over mountains.
"Is it real?" Peter asked.
"Nope." Was Neal's answer. "But it is a very nice forgery."
"So is that one." Peter said, nodding to another painting that looked exactly the same.
Neal walked over to a pile of paintings scattered on the floor and started sorting through them. "They're all the same." He said.
"I refuse to say anything until I talk to a lawyer." Brittle said.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][]
[][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][] []
Peter walked into the integration room and sat across from Brittle. Brittle's lawyer, Adam Hunter, was seated beside Brittle.
"Where is the original painting?" Peter asked.
"I have advised my client not to say anything." Hunter said.
"Too bad." Peter said. "I was about to offer him a deal."
"What kind of deal?" Brittle asked quickly.
"You don't strike me as an art lover." Peter said. "My guess is that someone paid you to steal the painting. But you don't know anything about telling which ones are fakes and which ones are real. That's why we found ten fake paintings in your apartment. Give me the name of the person who's calling the shots, and tell me where the real painting is."
"What do I get?"
"That depends on what you tell me."
"I will confer with my client." Hunter said.
"His name is Clifton Rendell." Brittle said.
"Matt." Hunter said.
"Stay out of this." Brittle said. "I am not going down alone, Rendell told me to get all of the paintings I could find. Weather they were real or not."
"Why?" Peter asked.
"No idea."
"He wanted the fake ones too?"
"Yeah, all of them. So what kind of deal do I get?"
"Did you still the painting from Brown's office?"
"Yeah. Rendell told me too. So what kind of deal do I get?"
[][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][]
[][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][] []
"That makes no sense." Neal said. Him and Peter were in Peter's office. "Why would Rendell want the fakes?"
"Clifton Rendell has been suspected of many things." Peter said, reading his computer screen. "Forgery, counterfeiting, theft, extortion, black mailing, among others. But he has never been officially charged with any crimes. Lack of evidence."
There was a knock on the door and the two men looked up to see Jones standing there.
"Peter." The other man said, "Mr. Brown is here, he wants to talk to you."
"Send him in." Peter said.
Brown walked into the office and Peter motioned for him to sat down in the chair beside Neal.
"I was just wondering if you found out anything." Brown said. "I know it hasn't been that long, but it's felt like an eternity. It's funny." He smiled slightly, but the other two men could see the sadness in his eyes. "When Linda first gave me the painting, I wasn't that fond of it. I'm not really into the western style art. But Linda was so enthusiastic about it, and her enthusiasm was contagious. I've gown to love that painting, especially after…." He stopped talking and took a deep breath. "After I lost Linda, that painting became the most precious procession I own."
"You have my word, we will do everything we can to get it back." Peter assured the man. "We have a couple leads, we will let you know as soon as we find something solid."
"Thank you." Brown stood up, as did Peter and Neal. They shook hands, then Brown left the office.
"We've got to get that painting back." Neal said, after Brown had left the room.
"That's what we've been trying to do." Peter said. "Let's go have a talk with Rendell."
"Only talk?" Neal asked.
"We don't have enough evidence to do anything but talk."
"We could search his place."
"No judge will sign a search warrant." Peter said, as they walked down the hallway.
"Who said anything about a warrant?"
"No." Peter said firmly, as he stopped walking and glared at the younger man.
"What?" Neal asked, with his best innocent look.
"We do this by the book, understand?"
"But….." Neal started, but Peter held his hand up and stopped him.
"By the book, Neal."
"By the book." Neal agreed, with a sigh.
"I mean it." Peter said sternly. "You do anything that I don't approve of and you will not like the consequences."
Neal nodded, but didn't say anything. He hated going against Peter, he truly did respect the older man. But Neal knew what it was like to lose the love of your life. He had to get that painting back, regardless of the methods he had to use. He knew Peter would be mad at him if he disobeyed him, but he also knew that Peter would forgive him. He always did, after lecturing him and yelling at him.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][]
[][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][] []
Peter and Neal walked up the walkway to a large three story Victorian house. Peter knocked on the door and a young woman in a very short maid's outfit opened the door.
"Yeah?" She asked.
"We're looking for Clifton Rendell." Peter said, showing his badge.
"Cliffy!" The woman yelled out as she walked back into the house, slamming the door behind her.
"He must have hired her for her excellent communication skills." Neal said.
"Obviously." Peter agreed.
The door reopened and a middle aged man stepped outside onto the porch.
"I am Clifton Rendell." He said. "Can I help you?"
"We are investigating the theft of a painting by Eric Townsend." Peter said. "Your name came up in the investigation."
"I don't see how." Rendell said, shrugging his shoulders. "Townsend painted horses and barns, neither of which interests me."
"Have you ever heard of a man named Matthew Brittle?" Peter asked.
"No."
"He claims that you paid him to steal some paintings."
"He is mistaken; I have never paid anyone to steal anything in my entire life."
"Do you prefer to steal them yourself?" Neal asked.
"This conversation is over." Rendell said. "If you have any further questions, contact my lawyer."
Rendell turned and walked back inside, slamming the door behind him.
"What was that?" Peter asked, as he glared at Neal.
"It was a simple question." Neal replied, as him and Peter retuned to Peter's car. "He wasn't going to give you anything anyway."
"I know." Peter said. "We need to get enough evidence for a search warrant."
"How?"
"The old fashion way." Peter said. "Leg work."
[][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][]
[][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][] []
Hours of leg work produced no results. A very tired Peter and Neal left the office around two in the morning. Peter went home, and Neal went to Rendell's house.
"I really need a car." Neal mumbled to himself after the cab pulled away. In the past, he would have just stolen a car without a second thought. But not now, and not just because he didn't want to go back to prison. Although that was a big part of it. But Peter was an even bigger part of it, as were Elizabeth and June.
Neal hid behind some bushes and watched the house for over an hour, he saw no movement or light from inside and figured it was safe to go in and take a look around.
He went around back and smiled when he saw the security alarm that Rendell used, it was surprisingly simple. Neal picked the back door and slunk inside, with a nagging guilty felling in the pit of his stomach.
"This isn't stealing." He said to himself. "It's just obtaining a previously stolen item to return to the rightful owner." But the feeling wouldn't leave. He knew Peter would be disappointed in him, even if he found the painting.
"When the hell did I start caring about what other's thought?" He asked himself, but he already knew the answer. It was when he met Peter.
Neal walked into the large living room and heard a noise behind him, he spun around just as the lights were flicked on. Rendell and the woman who answered the door were standing there, both had guns aimed at Neal's chest.
"So a leopard can't change his spots, Neal Caffrey." Rendell said.
"You've heard of me?" Neal asked, flashing his most charming smile.
"What I heard was that you became a lackey for those idiots at the FBI." Rendell said, as him and the woman lowered their guns.
"That's my day job." Neal said, his brain in overdrive trying to think of a way out of his present situation that didn't involve him getting shot or sent back to prison.
"Let's just shoot him." The woman said.
"Not yet." Rendell said. "He may be useful."
"I can be very useful." Neal agreed with him.
"He's wearing an ankle tracker." The woman said. "The FBI knows he's here."
"I don't think so." Rendell said. "My guess is that Caffrey here planned on stealing the real Townsend painting for himself."
"It is worth a lot of money." Neal said, with another smile. "You can't fault a guy for trying to earn a little extra money, Uncle Sam doesn't pay very well."
"I may have a position for you." Townsend said. "If you want it."
"Not a good idea, Cliff." The woman said. "The tracker."
"I can remove it if I need too." Neal said. "A friend of mine can over ride it, the Fed's won't know a thing." Neal knew that if he cut it, the FBI and more importantly Peter, would know where he was and that something was wrong.
"I do hate a liar." Rendell said. "I know how many people you have helped the FBI put in prison, and I do not want to become one of them. I do not know why you are here without the FBI, but it doesn't matter. I am in need of your services, but under my rules." He looked at the woman and nodded.
The woman walked over and stood in front of Neal, then without warning, she drew her arm back and punched him hard in the face. Neal felt the pain explode, then he fell to the floor and darkness overcame him.
[][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][]
[][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][] [][][][][][] []
TBC
I LOVE REVIEWS!