A/N: Thank you to my three anon reviewers; Cassius10, Bookworm848, and Yassen; thank you for telling me what you liked and how the fic makes you feel, it's very helpful. Thank you to all other reviewers as well! Enjoy!
BTW; in regard to the movie and Neal's age; because this is a pre-series I estimated the year of this fic to be 2002. Going off Matt Bomer's age I calculated Neal to be 24 in 2002 and Catch me if you can was coincidentally released that year.
Let's go Hunting: Chapter 3: White Van
"Neal," Peter laced as much authority into his tone as he could, "I need you to tell me what happened."
The agent followed the thief's lead and exited the car.
"And not the Reader's Digest version," Peter added over the top of the car, "all of it."
Neal looked at Peter about to protest; they had very limited time but he took one look at the Agent's hardnosed stare and he knew obfuscation and misdirection wouldn't fly this time.
"Okay Peter," Neal gave in, "I'll tell you everything, but you need to call for back-up now at least."
Peter recognised Neal's promise as being genuine so he nodded satisfied and took out his phone.
He called Hughes first explaining briefly what he was doing and that he needed to call his team. Fortunately the SAC was a long time friend of Peter; he allowed Peter to end the call with the promise that he would give his superior a painfully detailed report the next day.
Next he called Jones. Jones had more than made up for his shaky start on Peter's team in the six months since Peter's lunch with Neal; he was intelligent and could keep up with Peter and more importantly, he could keep up with Neal; he was often the first to receive the reports of Neal's latest schemes and thefts.
Peter filled Jones in, thanking his lucky stars that he had an agent who was as dedicated as he was to his job. He realised he didn't know all that much about Jones; he'd have to find out what the young promising agent did in his spare time. He left Jones to round up the other two members of his team; a probie- Hayden Cooper; a young man whose eidetic memory had allowed him to graduate early on and Andrea Payne who had transferred from Missing Persons after her own son disappeared and was found murdered two weeks later.
Peter came around to Neal's side and they crossed the road, heading in the direction of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Neal started explaining- unprompted- what had happened in the last month.
"...but I was busy," Neal was saying, "so Lake asked me if I knew anyone-"
"Busy?" Peter interrupted, "busy with what?"
Neal arched an eyebrow, and continued as if Peter hadn't interrupted, "I told him I'd pass a message to a friend of mine."
"It was you, wasn't it?" Peter shook his head, "you broke into the Field Museum in Chicago."
Neal maintained an innocent look, "I wasn't aware there was a break-in at the Field Museum."
Peter glared at Neal, "they couldn't report a theft; they couldn't find anything missing. You made the museum close for two days while they checked all the exhibits."
Neal shrugged, "I don't know what you're talking about Peter."
Peter gritted his jaw and continued not fooled, "you replaced something with a forgery didn't you?"
"How about we focus on one crime at a time," Neal suggested not in the slightest bit worried, "My friend, Blake Connors was interested in the job-"
"But why the Field?" Peter muttered ignoring Neal, "it's mostly history, I mean I know you like history; it's just a bit unusual; you normally go for paintings. They had that Cleopatra exhibit on; did you forge something made with gold or something?"
"Peter," Neal spoke sharply glancing at his watch, "maybe later? Can I tell you the rest of what happened, or are going to continue to make stuff up?"
Peter gave Neal a look of warning; he wasn't finished but for now he waved his hand indicating Neal could continue.
"With Connors for a partner," Neal continued grateful Peter had shut up, "Lake robbed the British Museum of three paintings done by Tagore- not something I would st- like. I think they were stealing them for a collector."
"I haven't heard of Tagore," Peter admitted ignoring Neal's near Freudian slip.
Neal nodded, "It's the British Museum; bit out of your jurisdiction Peter. Rabindranath Tagore; he's a painter although sometimes he just draws; they really love his works there. From what I can remember they have at least forty of his works."
"The collector has his work cut out for him," Peter noted, "okay go on, what next?"
Neal shrugged, "Lake didn't want to split the take; he shot Connors and fled. Connors died in hospital."
"You tracked him down?" Peter felt bad for Neal; no doubt he was feeling guilty for having referred the job to Connors.
Neal nodded, "it took me three weeks to find him. I've spent the past week tailing him."
"And you found out his plans," Peter finished, "how?"
"Not everything; I don't know his partners' names; there's two from what I've seen. I don't think they know Lake; they're just working with him," Neal stopped in place and Peter looked around realising they were on the street opposite of the Met.
"Right," Peter looked back at Neal, "but you know their plans?"
Neal nodded, "They're holing up in an abandoned building just on the outskirts; number sixty-two on thirty-third in Lower Manhattan."
"Did you break in Neal?" Peter smiled.
Neal ignored Peter's ribbing, "I found out they intended to rob the Met tonight during the day/night shift change from nine twenty to nine thirty. They targeted the European wing; I think they're after The Lute Player by Valentin de Boulogne. It must be another commission by some privileged collector."
Peter absorbed what Neal had said. He checked his watch again; it was ten past nine; they'd made good time but he needed his team to arrive before nine fifteen so they could set up; they were pushing it as it was.
"Do you think Lake will kill his two partners?" Peter questioned although he had to operate under the assumption that he would.
Neal stayed silent for a bit before nodding reluctantly, "there's no indication he won't."
Peter felt his hands ghost his belt; he felt rather unprepared. Ordinarily he'd have a gun, badge and handcuffs but for the sake of Elizabeth and a normal Date Night (so much for that) he'd left those things locked in his safe at home.
He locked his jaw and looked around, where was his team? He hoped one of his subordinates had the sense to bring a spare gun.
"What's wrong Peter," Neal had sensed Peter's edginess.
"Where will they enter from?" Peter asked scanning the Museum.
Neal pointed to a grand floor-to-ceiling window on the side of the museum around the corner from the entrance, "that's where the paintings are; for natural light, you know. They intend to smash the window while the guards are changing shifts in the staff rooms on the other side of the building. It would work; although it'd be destructive, messy and noisy."
Peter smirked at Neal's crinkled look of distaste.
"Yeah, yeah I get it, you work with finesse and poise," Peter looked around again; the streets were deserted; no sign of his team, "Neal, I'm not going to be able to stop them alone; I have no weapon or badge... or even handcuffs, and it's one against three."
"Two against three," Neal amended, "but Peter, I thought you kept your badge in your wallet; and don't you always carry your spare cuffs in your jacket pocket?"
Peter looked at Neal confused, "no, I don't; I normally have my-"
Peter paused as he felt around in his jacket pocket. His hand closed around a familiar circular metal object. He pulled out a set of handcuffs and stared at them. After a few quiet seconds he rummaged for his wallet in his inside jacket pocket and flipped it open. There, nestled snugly inside was his badge. He looked at Neal with a new wariness; a fear almost; certainly a new level of respect. How had Neal done that? Then the full implication hit him.
"You broke into my safe? In my house?" Peter narrowed his eyes dangerously, "Neal- you broke into my house!"
Neal looked at him the perfect picture of innocence, "Of course not Peter; let's just be grateful that you brought that stuff with you."
"What about my gun?" Peter murmured nervously having ignored Neal's denial, "what did you do with it?"
Neal shrugged, "didn't you say it was in your safe? I can't imagine even you bringing a gun on a date."
Peter stared at the items in his hands in shock; Neal had not only broken into his supposedly elite safe in his bedroom, in his home where he lived in private with a wife and a dog but he'd also planted Peter's own badge and handcuffs on him without detection. Peter thought back to the bathroom, the conversation, the walk to the car, being in the car, walking here; he couldn't think when Neal could have done it.
On a positive note, Peter believed Neal that his gun was in his safe; that at least he could be sure of; Neal did not take guns lightly.
"Don't worry Peter," Neal spoke with trepidation, "I'm sure one of your agents will have a spare."
Peter looked back at Neal; he'd have to deal with Neal's break in later, "yeah, but if they don't come in time for us to prepare, Lake will get away."
Neal gestured past Peter where he was looking over the agent's shoulder, "have I ever told you Peter; I can spot a surveillance van from a mile away?"
Peter turned and looked to where Neal was looking. He felt relief wash over him as he spotted a white van snaking its way down the streets to where they were standing in the shadows.
"Good," Peter looked at Neal after giving a brief wave to the van, "Neal, I want you to stay with the van; I'll get Cooper to stay with you."
Neal shook his head stepping forward, "Peter-"
"No Neal," Peter cut him off, "you need to stay away from this; Cooper will be your alibi. Besides, what do you intend to do? Throw an origami rose at Lake?"
Neal glowered but he saw the sense in Peter's words. He dipped his head in surrender and Peter satisfied went to meet Jones who had emerged from the driver's seat.
"Jones," Peter nodded in acknowledgment, "thanks for coming. Cooper and Payne?"
Jones looked at Neal then back to his boss, "yeah, they're here. Sorry I didn't get here sooner."
Peter waved off Jones' apologies, "its fine Jones, can you park this thing over in the next street behind the trees. I'll follow and we'll do a quick debrief; we've only got five minutes."
Peter and Neal hurried to the copse of trees that lined the next street and waited till the van parked in place. Then Neal stood hands in pockets on the path watching seemingly relaxed as Peter and Jones opened the back doors and stepped back while two Agents he'd never seen emerged. There were a few curious glances as Peter explained quickly that there was a suspected robbery attempt scheduled to occur at twenty-one twenty; a basic break and entry through the west windows. Peter then directed Jones and Payne- a late thirty-something blond woman to stations on opposite angles near the window. Peter stayed back to inform Cooper that he was to stay with Neal and ensure he didn't attempt to interfere.
Neal rolled his eyes and watched as Peter took up another position behind some scrub twenty or so yards from the window. He ignored the young man who came up and stood nervously hand hovering over his gun next to Neal. The Agents hadn't had time to set up radios so Neal watched with interest as the Agents signalled each other with hand signals. Neal checked the time; it was nine nineteen. Suddenly he spotted Peter signalling sharply to Jones and Payne, he followed their gazes and spotted a dark beaten up Corolla moving down the street slowly as if the occupants were nervously surveying the surrounding environment. Neal and the young Agent- Cooper moved behind the nearest trees and peered out from behind them. Neal watched as it parked near the corner, close to where he and Peter had been standing across the road only moments before. He glanced around at the three agents hidden in the brush and saw with relief that he couldn't see them; not even the flicker of movement or shadows. Then he looked back to the car. Lake and two men were exiting the car dressed in black wearing gloves and looking at the museum apprehensively. Neal felt anger as he stared at Lake. He watched as the man nodded a touch more confident than the other two. One of the two men behind Lake turned back to the car and pulled out three crowbars. Neal felt his chest tighten with worry as Lake took a crowbar; there! It had flashed clear as day as he'd lifted his shirt taking the crowbar; a gun- tucked in his pants. Neal looked at Peter's hiding spot with worry. He knew the agent could take care of himself so why was he feeling worried? As Lake walked towards the window with the two men behind him glancing all the while for the slightest sign of movement Neal felt his chest constrict and he held his breath.
Oh! Suddenly Neal flinched, only just stopping himself from running or gasping out loud; had Peter ended up asking one of his agents for a spare gun? He thought back and realised Peter had been concentrating on informing his Agents on what was going on and then getting in position; he hadn't asked for a gun; Peter was unarmed!
A/N: The Field Museum really did have a Cleopatra exhibit in 2002. Rabindranath Tagore is a real artist; a painter/poet/novelist/playwriter whose paintings are displayed at the British Museum (approximately 44 works). The Lute Player by Valentin de Boulogne is on display at the Met.