Neal spent the rest of the weekend enjoying his temporary freedom. He went out and checked how far the two-mile radius stretched. He wanted to make sure that - in case of need - he knew how far he could go without raising the alarm. He also checked for traffic junctions and transportation hubs at the far end of the radius. Not that he had any plans to run, but if it became necessary to cut the anklet and disappear he would want to do that someplace where a quick exit was possible and the Marshalls couldn't anticipate where he'd go.

Peter spent the weekend with his wife, but never ceased to monitor the con man's movements. He wasn't amused when he observed the systematic approach Neal took to explore the two mile radius. He had been chasing the criminal for many years and knew his way of thinking and acting. This wasn't just an extended stroll to enjoy the scenery; Caffrey was spying out the environment and probably taking precautions to run. But Peter had to admit that he stayed inside the radius all the time and was at home before 10 p.m. Therefore, he concluded that Caffrey had no actual plans to run off, but was getting prepared. The agent would definitely be on guard.

On Monday morning, Peter's team had started to look for further evidence to connect Hagen to the Dutchman crimes, but it proved to be a difficult task. It seemed as if the forger hadn't left any trace. So far, they were not even able to find out where he was currently located.

Nevertheless, Hughes was very impressed with the progress in the investigation they'd made. Usually he was rather sparing with praise, but this time he went over and joined the team to acknowledge their investigative work. Neal was beaming with delight and pointed out the initials he had found to the head of the department himself. This Caffrey show-off incurred Burke's disapproval. Yes, the con man had spotted the initials on the bonds. He wouldn't deny that. But that had still been a very tenuous lead and it wouldn't hold up in court. The FBI agent was eager to proceed with the investigations and track down Hagen.

Jones and Diana gathered information on Curtis Hagen. So far, he had never been convicted of any crime. He had made himself a name as a restorer of old paintings and seemed to be specialized in tapestries. He had been suspected for forgery twice during the last five years, but he couldn't be convicted and the charges against him had been dropped. Both cases were still unsolved. Apparently, he was quite skilled at concealing his trail and didn't make wanton mistakes.

Neal could contribute some additional information regarding Hagen that was not in the files. But still, in the evening they weren't any closer to him than they had been in the morning. The con man was disappointed that the investigative work proved to be so drawn-out.

Neal had hoped for a quick success to prove his value to the Bureau and seal his CI contract permanently.

He walked home lost in his thoughts. It was interesting to see a crime from the opposite viewpoint for a change. As a criminal, he had always tried to foresee the next steps the police or FBI were going to take, but he could only guess on their way of doing things. Now he had some firsthand experience. You never knew when you could need that kind of information...

Suddenly, he became suspicious. Right in front of June's residence there was a black van. He hadn't seen the van before and it didn't fit in the neighborhood. His instincts told him to watch out.

He had to cross in front of the van to reach the entrance of the house. As he did so, the door of the van slid open and two men jumped out. One held a Taser and attacked him immediately. 'Damn it' were his last thoughts before he passed out. It was a matter of seconds to tase Neal, drag him into the van and close the doors.

Caffrey woke up with a serious headache. He was crouched on the floor of the van. The light hurt his eyes and his hands were tied behind his back. He checked his anklet and was relieved to find the green light still on.

"Top of the morning to you. Monster headache, right? It'll pass. No need to worry ... yet."

The con man was frightened when he heard the voice. He knew the man. This spelled trouble.

"Wilkes. Haven't seen you in a while; how are you doing?" He gave the man, who was staring at him, a wary smile.

Neal doubled over and groaned when Wilkes' fist hit him hard in his stomach. "Seeing you again, Neal, brings back all these old feelings."

The con man tried to appear unimpressed. "You wanted to meet me for lattes, you could've just called."

Wilkes wasn't fooled. "This way's better. Pretty good, right? Come on; show me your new residence."

One of the thugs held the keys to June's house in his hands. They must have taken them while he was passed out. The thugs grabbed his arms and dragged him up to the main entrance, through the front door and finally upstairs to his apartment. He was dropped on a chair.

The two goons secured the doors to the staircase and the rooftop. Wilkes stood in front of the seated man.

"I came to jog your memory," he said. "You still have something in your possession which belongs to me."

"I told you back then that I didn't steal the Monet. And that hasn't changed. Being in prison for four years is quite an obstacle when you plan to break into a museum."

Wilson hit him again. This time he punched him into the face. "Wrong answer. That's what you told me four years ago. But you took the money."

Neal felt blood running down his face but couldn't wipe it off because his hands were tied. "I haven't taken your money," he said. "One of your partners must have betrayed you. I checked the National Gallery in Washington, but its security arrangements are far too sophisticated. I canceled the deal and left without your money."

"You're wasting your breath! You owe me something. Now it's payback time. Either you hand over the five hundred grand or the 'Woman with a Parasol'. Normally I kill people for that sort of thing, but today's your lucky day: you get to make it up to me. I'll be content with the forgery you've created instead of the original painting."

Neal was at a loss. "I've never painted it."

Wilkes wasn't impressed. "Then do it now."

Neal's mind was reeling. If he started forging a painting, sooner or later the FBI would pick up his trail. Given Peter Burke's mistrust, in combination with his investigative skills, it would be sooner rather than later... He wouldn't risk his freedom for some old acquaintance. Maybe Mozzie had an idea how to get rid of Wilkes. Right now, he wouldn't make any concession.

"I can't. I won't be able to forge it without studying the original."

Wilkes uncuffed him. "I'll give you a week to think it over," he said. He pulled the con man up. "Come on, Caffrey, be a good host and see me off." With these words he moved to the door, shoving his captive along.

He stopped at the staircase, flashed a vicious smile and pushed Neal. The con man tumbled and fell down the stairs. His head knocked the wall several times and his limbs hit the stairs repeatedly. He came to a halt at the bottom feeling completely battered.

"A week. That's all you've got," Wilkes said.

Neal was still sitting at the bottom of the stairs when Mozzie came to visit him.

"Are you okay?" his friend asked. He was clearly alarmed.

"I don't know," Neal said. "I guess nothing is broken. I can move my arms and legs, even though it hurts like hell."

"What happened to you?"

"Wrong question. Who happened to me would be the right one... It was Wilkes." Neal tried to get up.

Mozzie was alarmed. "Wilkes! Is he still upset because of the Monet?"

"That's one way of putting it. He was very upset when I told him that I have neither the painting nor the money. He was even more upset when I told him that I won't forge the 'Woman with a Parasol'. Give me a hand and help me upstairs." With the help of his friend, the injured man was able to climb the stairs.

Mozzie was distressed. "Doesn't it strike you as insane to annoy Wilkes again? You know he likes guns - and hurting people?"

His friend didn't appreciate the comment. "Thanks for your concern, Moz. Right now, I have more urgent concerns. I can't go to the Bureau tomorrow looking black and blue all over."

He tried to clean his wounds and inspected the parts of his body which hurt most. He was relieved to confirm no bones were broken, but without a doubt there would be bruises and he would feel the pain for a couple of days. He put ice packs on his face and hand to suppress swelling. Burke would be suspicious if he went to the office with a black eye or bruised cheekbone.

Both men were discussing Wilkes' threat and possible ways to deal with it. They didn't come to a conclusion. Neal's head was buzzing. He needed rest.

"Moz, let's call it off for today. I need a break."

Peter Burke checked the GPS data for the fifth time that evening. His wife was getting annoyed.

"Let's see if I understand your worries correctly," Elizabeth said. "Because Neal stayed one night at the office and has changed his housing arrangements to another location in the first night, you are suspicious about what he's up to tonight."

Her husband nodded absentmindedly. "Yep, he's planning something."

"And because he went home today directly after work and hasn't left the apartment ever since you are ... worried?"

"That's just not his usual behavior. All the other days, he didn't stay at home. He's not the type who sits on his sofa, watches TV and enjoys dinner at home. He wants to lull me into a sense of security and once I feel assured, he'll strike." Peter could tell from her face that his wife wasn't convinced. "It's a working theory."

"Keep on working. Isn't it possible that Neal just wants to stay on the safe side and keep the rules you've set for him because he wants to remain free? Anyway, I'm tired and going to bed."

Neal Caffrey stood in front of the mirror early the next morning and examined his face. There were bruises on his left cheek and a graze at the brow. He hoped Agent Burke would buy his story. He was going to tell him he fell down the stairs while he carried a heavy box for June. His landlady would back up his alibi. But still, he was in an anxious state of mind when he was thinking about his encounter with his handler.

... to be continued

AN:

Thanks a lot to my new beta reader VoicesInTheWind. I am very glad about her great support.