(Chapter 4)

Peter lay tiredly on the cot, the rags in his mouth and tape over his lips making it harder to breath. His body ached despite what little movement he did make, his shoulder continuing to throb. He was pretty sure the wound was still bleeding, his vision blurring in and out of focus as he stared up at the slow motion of the naked bulb hanging overhead. Henry had left him alone as he muttered something under his breath about Neal he hadn't quite understood. The agent didn't care so much for himself as he worried about Henry actually succeeding in blaming Neal for his death, if that were to happen. He knew the Bureau was looking for him by now, Elizabeth sick with worry. His partner had been out of it the day they'd been taken, eyes nearly black from whatever their captor had given him. The con had been like an automaton, doing what Henry said until he'd asked him to use the knife. Neal had stopped himself, a little flicker of resistance but it had been brief. Henry had held Neal's hand and made him stab the agent in the shoulder. He remembered that now, a few small tears falling from his friend's eyes although that blank look had remained.

Don't make him do this. Please...

He had begged and pleaded, trying to wake his friend and get the mystery man he had been unable to identify then to free them. Neal wasn't violent nor a killer. The man had laughed.

The world is a dark place and sometimes... you have to let the darkness in, Burke.

The man spoke to Neal as if they were friends making Peter their mutual enemy. He could see his friend was too far gone with the drug's influence to do more than go along with what the man forced him to do. He would forgive Neal. It wasn't his fault this happened, his eyes rolling back as he passed out from the pain. That had been hours ago or had it been days? He had no idea how much time had passed but it felt like forever, his body aching from hunger and thirst in addition to the pain. Was his wife safe? Where was Neal?

"Mmmph..."

He gave a muffled groan, looking around to be certain his captor was gone before he did the only thing he could think of. It took a moment to psych himself up but when it happened he cried out, nearly choking on the pain but at least he could get free now as he reached with his right hand over to a small clip on the floor. Henry had been lax and all Peter needed was the one clip to free himself as Neal had taught him.

"Mmmmph..."

Peter wasn't sure how he was doing until he heard the "click" and felt the cuff fall from his wrist. He was free there but his left arm was now dislocated, the pain more excruciating as it added to his already bleeding shoulder. He did his best to sit up, removing the gag and working on freeing his ankles. The room spun around him like some sick carousel but he fought the nausea and sucked back the taste of bile. It took a few minutes but finally he was free, dropping the clip into his pocket as he stood on shaky legs and started for the grimy window. His left arm hung loosely at his side as he found a small bit of plywood and used it to break the window. Glass shattered and flew around him but he knocked the last bits loose and gingerly climbed out into the cold night air. The chill woke him up a little but he was still far too weak to do more than shuffle along through the dimly lit courtyard he remembered finding his friend in. Neal had looked dead when he found him, eyes open just a slit as they stared up blankly. It had been a miracle to hear his friend groan and feel a pulse beneath cool skin. Neal was alive for now but Henry would make sure he got life if not the chair and Peter wasn't going to allow that if he had anything to say about it.

He stumbled into the darkness, his hurt arm hugged close to his body as he shivered in the night. The landscape was barely noticeable, Peter's mind on escape more than where he was as he found himself in a small park and sat on a bench to rest. He leaned back against the seat, exhaustion hitting him hard as he closed his eyes and found himself thinking back to that stupid argument with Neal. It had been the letter that triggered most of his anger starting two days before the stakeout. He hadn't told anyone about it yet, hoping to find out it was all a joke but work and life had interfered and he had let the ghosts of the past fester until he finally blew up at his friend. He had been angry but not at Neal. He was angry for not stopping the con from running out into the path of danger and for worrying so much about him when the kid could take care of himself... when he wasn't impulsive and pig-headed. He laughed slightly, opening his eyes as he sat up and realized how much Neal had become a part of his routine if not his family. El liked him like a kid brother, most of his friends not near as close to his wife as Neal had become. It was more than charm and deceit that helped Neal ease into their lives but an honest need to belong.

Peter gave a sigh, knowing he should move before he became too comfortable. He saw a taxi easing towards him from down the block, pushing himself up to his feet when someone threw him hard to the ground, a knee on his back as he was held face down, his bad arm pulled back until he gave a weak cry of pain. Someone clucked their tongue at him.

"I guess he taught you some very unhealthy skills there if you can pick locks now, Agent Burke. I guess you aren't going to make this any easier for me are you?"

It was Henry but his voice sounded different than it had, a stronger tone there he didn't recognize as he was lifted up and pulled out of sight as the lone taxi passed by. When they were alone again he found himself face to face with his old CI. There was something there he didn't recognize and yet...

"I can't keep up with this charade much longer. My brother wanted me to make it look like an old friend wanted you dead but now... I'm going to do this my way."

()()()

Neal glanced back again but the figure was gone. Maybe he had imagined it? He felt a tug on his sleeve, Mozzie looking at him curiously as he hung up his cell.

"Dominick says he can meet us at the coffee shop. Then we can go through Bureau records..."

Mozzie was being helpful but Neal's mind was distracted by his worry for the agent and the threat from the man who had called him earlier. His mind was still feeling off from the after effects of whatever he'd been given. It had to be powerful to still be in his system this long he thought as he nodded back to the other con.

"I may have access to a few databases..."

Courtesy of Peter, he thought to himself. He gave a heavy sigh, staring out the window at the passing lights of the city that never slept. Peter could be anywhere in this city and the key to everything was locked somewhere in his memory and where he'd gone after the park. He just needed a direction...

"Neal..."

He gazed up to see Mozzie staring at him, the scenery still now as he realized he must have dozed off. Neal slipped out of the taxi and followed his friend half a block down to a dumpy coffee shop with a flashing neon sign reading: Cuppa Joe. There were only a few people, three tables spread in the small space near the door. Everyone left but one guy dressed in a heavy worn brown overcoat, graying dishwater brown hair and fingerless gray gloves. He gave a nearly indistinguishable nod to them, Mozzie moving up to the counter to order something as Neal followed distractedly. His mind was still thinking about Peter and the stupid argument. He shouldn't have run in as he had but something had made him feel reckless. Neal thought he knew what when someone coughed and he glanced up to see the old man behind the counter looking at him curiously.

"Italian Roast... black."

The clerk nodded, turning to make their orders as Mozzie poked him slightly and whispered.

"Stay alert, Neal. Dom doesn't like to be ignored!"

Neal blinked, glancing back at the man in the brown overcoat at the table when Mozzie pointed at the man behind the counter. Apparently he had drawn the wrong conclusions as the older man came back with their coffees.

"I pay alot of money for the advertising on these cup rings. It's all paper, recyclable but I like to get my money's worth."

The man was apparently cluing them in as they nodded and left with their coffee. Neal was watching Mozzie wait until they were just around the corner before he took the small sleeve off the drink and looked inside.

"Mine's empty. Dammit, Dominick!"

He looked about to run back in and complain when Neal pulled his off and saw something scrawled in a fine rolling print inside. He handed it to Mozzie.

"Case number. Think you can get into the Feds' files, Neal?"

Mozzie looked happy again, forgetting about his coffee as they walked along towards a nearby library and entered. It was warmer than outside as they removed their jackets and found a quiet corner to hang out privately. Mozzie pulled his usual messenger bag from around his torso, took out his laptop and did his usual prep of wiping it down before handing it over to Neal.

"Your turn."

It was on the right site, a page Neal often saw Peter enter. It wouldn't raise alarms, missing or not that the agent was inside the grid until later on. Besides, it wasn't like he was using it for something bad. He put in the password as elusively as he could, Mozzie peering over off and on before there was a quiet beep indicating they were in.

"Now for the case file..."

Neal watched as his friend typed quickly, moving deftly through the FBI database and finding the file they wanted.

"It's flagged. I can't even pretend to look at it or they will know the Suit accessed it when he's not even around to access it. Something stinks here."

Neal glanced at the warning tag on the file, picking the one beside it to make it look like a normal search.

Gregario Bertucci. Gangster and Racketeer.

He didn't think it was important enough to read until he looked down at a small paragraph that made him blink.

Reference case file RH3-567UYT.

Neal grabbed the drink sleeve and looked at the number which matched. How was this other case about Henry Burkiss related to a Gangster and Racketeer? Mozzie peered over his shoulder and read what he could.

"References the same case file that's flagged. We can't open it without clearance. I'll see if Sally can find a way in. Dom must have seen it or he wouldn't have led us this way."

()()()

Peter didn't understand what was going on, a rag stuffed into his mouth as he was forcibly dragged away by Henry from the park and taken back to the old location. The man dropped him on the floor, his dislocated shoulder hitting the wall and making him winced in pain despite himself. There was something different to the man now, his voice nothing like the person who had been talking to him before.

"I've put on this act far too long. I don't think your young con man would be able to hold down an alias this long. You were onto most of his games but you never figured out mine. Poor Henry Burkiss... alias, Inario Bertucci."

The man smiled down at him with a predatory smile, something clicking in Peter's tired mind but he had worn himself out and the trip back had taken all he had from him as he passed out.

Peter was unconscious but dreaming.

It was just over 8 years ago. He hadn't been placed on Neal's trail yet and he was helping with a case against a gangster by the name of Gregario Bertucci. They had a couple of CI's on the case but Henry was there number one person at the moment. He seemed to get the most information that helped them see what the gangster was up to. They just needed to get inside and get a wire to get the goods on Bertucci, Peter offering to go inside with Henry as another homeless man trying to get money for work. Hughes allowed it despite his instincts telling him now but Peter knew he could get the goods on this guy.

"Henry... just remember that I'm not an agent ok. I'm Peter the vagrant. I live off 42nd near the concession stand."

He watched the man nod understandingly, limping up to him and sniffing at him curiously.

"You need to smell more before they'll believe you're a bum like me."

Peter laughed but nodded, the vagrant helping him make up his disguise much to Elizabeth's crinkling of her nose as she met with them at the offices with some things he needed. Henry had seemed shy around her at the time but now things looked different in his memory. He could see something about the man taking in more details than he seemed able of and how Peter had missed that was beyond him. Maybe he was far too trusting or Inario had indeed gotten him on a very long con.

It was the day of their visit with Bertucci, several other vagrants on their way out with packages under their grimy clothes as they were stopped by two burly men.

"He's not one of the regulars. You can go in."

Henry looked surprised in his normally confused manner, shaking his head and moving back to make a sign that Peter was alright.

"He wants to work too. Pete's a hard worker. Isn't that right, Pete?"

The agent nodded, eyes lowered some, lip trembling as he tried to look like some of the men they had met on his rounds the day before with Henry.

"Nobody says I don't do a good job. Keep my mouth shut if I'm paid."

The goon looked about to smack him but one of the other men yelled back at him.

"One more guy isn't going to hurt anything. Bring him in. Greg wants this done quickly!"

The goon let them in, glaring threateningly at Peter but he continued to shuffle in like he was dumb or at most intimidated by the man. They fell for it as he had hoped, his wire intact as he followed Henry inside and they found themselves in a huge warehouse full of men packaging what looked like drugs while others were counting money off to the side. His eyes roamed around trying not to act like he was really looking when someone grabbed his arm and shoved something into his arms.

"Take this to the address on the box. Don't let it get lost!"

The man handed him a wad of cash he imagined was to not only pay him off but get him on a taxi to the location the box was meant for. The goon wore a suit but he wasn't the boss, just another yes man as Peter nodded dumbly, looking over at Henry who had wandered closer to another man a little better dressed. Peter wasn't sure who it was until they turned and he saw Bertucci himself smiling. His blood ran cold as he saw Henry getting even nearer, the agent unsure what to do as he moved closer to grab his CI.

"Hi, Henry. My favorite carrier. Any news for me today?"

Peter stopped short, glancing at the scene as he tried to figure out what was going on without giving himself away.

"No sir. I did see a mockingbird in the park today. I think it followed me home but I couldn't tell it from any other pigeon."

The words were gibberish at best but then suddenly he saw Gregorio's eyes glancing around the room. He was looking through all the many vagrants being handed packages with a curious eye before they fell upon Peter. There was intent there but Peter had to act stupid despite what was going on. He started to turn when someone grasped his arm and held him back. It was resist, a gun hidden inside his messy torn clothes or act dumb.

"You... I've never seen you before. What is your name?"

Peter swallowed hard, his heart racing some but he had to be calm if he was to survive. He wasn't sure why Henry's words had made the gangster antsy but they had.

"Nobody... I just need the money."

He made his voice feeble, weak almost hoping that it would fit in with what he looked like.

"Is this the pigeon, Henry. Did he follow you?"

Peter tried not to look directly up, hoping that the vagrant would help him. He could just see the man looking him up and down, scratching his head in that confused manner of his before he turned and looked around the room again.

"I think it may have just been a pigeon. They all look alike, sir. Can I have my package now?"

The goon let go of him, pushing him towards the exit as Henry stayed behind and he could just make out a still smiling (but not happy) Gregario glancing after him with a curious gaze.

The dream ended and slowly the events of the past started to swirl before him. The day that he was almost shot by Gregorio when he got away. Henry had been there talking about pigeons again. He realized now what it all meant. Inario had been coding messages about what the Feds knew about Bertucci and his operation and who was undercover. They had known he was the odd person out that day and it had seem so odd that Henry claimed his innocence in it all. He had been conned by the very people they had been trying to catch. Peter had fallen for the act hook, line and sinker.

"Wake up, Peter."

A slap hit him hard and jarred him awake. He gazed up through bleary eyes at the naked bulb above. The window had been boarded up securely and his arms duct taped behind him to a pipe in the wall. Inario put his foot on Peter's wounded shoulder and gently pushed down until he cried out, the man laughing most uncharacteristically. Henry had just been a fabrication but Inario... He was cold blooded like his brother.

"My brother wanted me to make sure you knew he'd been keeping an eye on you and your little friend. A cousin in the Bureau helped some but he's been well paid to keep his silence about how he finds your body. He'll be a first responder despite his status."

He gazed up at this new person unable to speak but saying everything with narrow angry eyes. Inario laughed, kicking him hard in the shoulder until Peter slumped back half-conscious from the pain.

"You Feds think you're so smart. Your friend might be reformed but after they find the bloody evidence pointing him out as your murderer, everything will be as it should."

Peter sensed the man closer to him now, thin fingers wrapping around his chin as he felt his head raised and their eyes met.

"A snitch needs to learn their place and that's why your friend has to go too."

Inario grinned coldly down at him as Peter spit at the man, his strength finally leaving him as he slumped back and fell into unconsciousness again.

oOoOoOo

Author's Note: Now we know what, why and how but will Neal find Peter before everything goes to heck in a hand basket? What does that tagged file have in it that it's hidden and who is this "cousin" Inario spoke of.