A/N: First thanks to everyone who has reviewed, followed or favourited the story. I haven't been able to reply to everyone yet, but please know I read each review and try to use all suggestions and comments to improve the story and my writing. The time you take to respond is so appreciated.
I have been promising some readers some action and a bit of hurt/comfort so here you go. Well the hurt part is here, just not the comfort yet. For all my readers who like to keep things realistic, don't worry, I'm not straying from the realism of the show. At least I don't think I am. This was a tough chapter to write. I'm working full time and in school full time so it cut's down on my writing time, but as I have said. I hate leaving stories unfinished so I will complete this, hopefully by Christmas.
Please let me know what you think. I'm sure there are a few minor grammatical errors, but I don't think there is anything major.
Adeste Fideles
One of Neal's favourite aspects of working for the FBI was going under cover. It was essentially a government-sanctioned con, and Neal loved a good con. He could assume any persona, and Peter wouldn't be able to comment on how cocky, or whiny, or sophisticated the person was, because it was part of the job. It was also a great way to keep his skills sharp, for when the rest of his sentence was up and he was back in the game. Handy how these things had a way of working themselves out.
Mr. James Halstead was not an alias Neal used often, because it was a reputable one. Not that Mr. Halstead dealt with reputable individuals, but Neal didn't really use this alias to directly con a mark. Neal had a few aliases tucked away that represented semi-legitimate cash flow operations, such as appraising art for individuals who didn't want to go through legal channels. But despite the large amount of cash he might make in one job, he didn't often go into these business dealings because there was a greater chance he'd get burned.
So with all the confidence only an accomplished conman could exhibit in the face of danger, Neal casually strolled into the warehouse Giordano had told him they'd meet at. Very cliché to meet in a rundown warehouse, but what about the mob wasn't.
Giordano was waiting in an awful, off the rack suit, surrounded by several muscle types, in equalling appalling outfits. For the amount of money the mob pulled in each year, one would think they could invest in a tailor.
"Mr. Halstead," Giordano said in an oily voice, holding out his hand. "So glad you good join us."
Neal completed the handshake, mindful the muscle guys with guns were watching his every move. "I'm always happy to help out a fellow art lover."
"My acquaintance should be here soon, and then we shall see if you earn this." Giordano held up a silver case.
Neal gave an effervescent smile. "The best part of the job. And, it's not that I don't trust you, but you have to understand how a man in my position might have, how shall we say it… concerns." Neal tipped his head toward the case. It was always a fine line of how much distrust to show when dealing with unsavoury types.
Fortunately Giordano didn't seem at all offended. "You and I have many things in common Mr. Halstead. I too am very cautious about my business dealings, which is why you find yourself here." The man placed the case on a nearby crate and flipped the front latches, opening the case so Neal could see the neat stacks of hundreds.
"May I?" Neal stepped forward, Giordano's nod. Careful to keep his movements from creating too much suspicion, he picked up a couple sheaves of money and flipped through them, both to ensure the bills were genuine, and that the other stacks of bills underneath existed as well.
Placing a satisfied look on his face, Neal stepped back and allowed Giordano to close the case.
"Distrust, a man after my own heart." Giordano complimented. "If this particular venture goes well, I would very much like to continue our dealings. I always have use for a man of your particular talents in my organization."
"Any dealings that mutually benefit both parties, are always of interest to me." Neal replied, as he leaned casually against some nearby boxes.
Giordano looked like he was about to say something else when a purring motor came into earshot. "It seems my business acquaintance is here."
A short time later a sleek limo rolled up and inside the open door. First, the driver got out followed by a couple bodyguard types, all muscular, and with matching black suits. The driver walked around and opened the passenger side door, from which a shorter man stepped out.
Although the man was not tall in stature at least he was someone who knew how to dress. Neal could spot an expensive Italian suit from a mile away and this one was clearly a perfect custom job.
"David," the man greeted, stepping forward with an equally oily smile to the one Giordano was so famous for.
"Nicholas," Giordano appeared equally fake in his greetings but stepped forward and the two men tentatively shook each other's hands.
"I am so glad you are open to this expansion project. It will mutually benefit both our respective families." Nicholas smirked, as if he didn't quite believe what he was saying.
"When your father first approached me with his proposal, I must say I was rather suspicious, but after further consideration I began to see the benefits of the offer."
Neal had to admit it was rather like watching a dance, with the partners carefully moving around each other, without anyone actually dancing as one.
"Before this goes any farther, I'd like to see the piece." Giordano had lost some of his slickness and was now getting down to business.
"Of course." Nicholas gestured at his own man at the same time Giordano beckoned Neal forward.
"My acquaintance, Mr Halstead will be ensuring I'm getting the genuine article." Giordino was firm. "As you well know trust begins in the smallest things, and our future business dealings must be founded in trust of they will fail."
"I agree completely," Nicholas responded. "But I think you shall find the piece to your satisfaction"
A minute later two of Nicholas's men arrived carrying a long crate, and another with a cloth that he preceded to lay out across the long table, Giordano had obviously had brought in ahead of time.
Neal watched as the crate was carefully opened, and a long tube wrapped in plastic gently removed. The painting was unfurled and Neal drew in a quick breath as The Nativity lay out on the table. The edges were somewhat tattered from where the piece had been unceremoniously cut from the frame, all those years ago.
Stepping reverently forward, Neal bent forward to examine the piece. There were always certain tells, art appraisers used to authenticate works of art. Was the canvas from the proper time period; was the type of paint used correct for that artist? Once Neal had seen someone using oil paints to copy Duccio, and then tried to pass if off as a forgery. He also examined the brush strokes. They were as unique to each artist as fingerprints.
"Well Mr. Halstead?" Giordano was clearly anxious to know if he had the real Nativity.
"The canvas is from the correct time period, and it's linen, Caravaggio's preferred canvas material. And the paint is properly aged. Notice the craquelure." Neal gestured to the small cracks across the surface of the painting. As paint ages, it becomes less flexible and shrinks causing small fissures with the painting itself. And finally, notice the marks here denoting rapid brush strokes. All consistent with Caravaggios' unique style."
To Neal this was like Christmas come early. "Either it's the best forgery I have ever seen, or you have the genuine Nativity here, Mr. Giordano."
A pleased look spread across Giordano's face as he stared at the painting on the table. "A magnificent addition to my collection."
"It sounds like the beginning of a very profitable business relationship." Nicholas clasped his hands together and then directed two of his men to re-roll the painting and package it back into the crate.
Neal stood there off to the side waiting for the moment when Giordano would ever him his money and also when Peter would burst in and arrest everyone. Maybe he could even get the case out before Peter noticed.
Suddenly the tension in the room seemed to shift as one of Nicholas's men approached and whispered in his ear. Nicholas's whole demeanor changed and his eyes narrowed.
He yanked out a gun and pointed it has Giordano. This caused a chain reaction. Giordano's men pulled their weapon's on Nicholas causing Nicholas's men to draw on them. Neal felt suddenly very naked being the only one without any sort of weapon.
"You set me up." Nicholas spat.
"What are you talking about?" Giordano snarled, his finger all but shaking as it was pressed over the trigger of his weapon.
"My men tell me there's a suspicious van outside, and it's been there the entire time. What sort of man sells is own family out to the Polizia? Put the painting back in the car."
Giordano's face was almost purple with rage. "I haven't sold anyone out, if anyone did this it be you. You're trying to get me out of the way so you can take over my business."
"Liar," Nicholas screamed back.
Neal stood off to the side praying they didn't jump to the next logical conclusion and then shoot him execution style or something.
The standoff seemed to drag on for hours although it was probably more like 20 seconds.
As much as Neal hated weapons, this might be a good time to clue the FBI into getting into the warehouse since they hadn't arrived yet.
"As much as I love family reunions, I really don't want to be caught in the middle of bad blood involving guns or the police. So if I could just have my money, I'll be leaving."
All the weapons turned to train on Neal who held up his hands jumping back. "Whoa, whoa… There is no need for any of that. Mr Giordano promised me 100 grand to verify his painting, and that's just what I did. All I want is my money, so I can go."
"What do you know about his guy?" Nicholas was eyeing Neal with sudden interest.
Neal did not like where this was heading, but he'd talked his way out of worse. "I'm just here for my money. I don't know anything about any police, and I really don't like having guns pointed at me."
Giordano was also eye Neal, although he didn't seem as suspicious as Nicholas.
"I'm not carrying a gun, and I'm not wearing a wire. You can check for yourself. I just want my money. Look, if the cops are out there don't you think we all have better things to do than point guns at each other. And if that is the police out there why are we standing around here talking." Come on Peter, Neal kept repeating in his head.
Nicholas jerked his head forward for one of his men to search Neal. Neal stayed perfectly still as the patted him down. Nicholas's man shook his head.
"I'm just going to take my case and leave." Neal spoke directly to Giordano, and then slowly edged toward the silver case sitting on a nearby crate. When none of the men tried to stop him, Neal carefully closed his fingers around the case, and began to back out of the warehouse. Everyone else seemed to take the cue for Neal and began edging backwards towards their respective vehicles.
A minute later all hell broke loose, as the FBI's tactical response team poured into the warehouse.
Neal did what he normally did, in the midst of a gunfight. He got out of the way and tried not to die.
Pandemonium reined as the respective mob groups scattered, and then some dumb fool made the mistake of firing his weapon. Bullets went flying and everyone dove for cover.
Nicholas's men drew him back towards the vehicle and they dove in desperate to make a quick getaway. The limo had been turned bullet resistant because rounds didn't penetrate the metal or glass as the vehicle backed out and made a fast exit.
This left Giordano's men in the middle of a shootout. Keeping his head down Neal glanced around desperately for a way out. If he was lucky he could keep his cover, but at this point, his main goal was avoiding a bullet.
He edged around behind his crates, looking for any sort of exit. Crawling a few paces he looked around to see if he could make it to the side door without being seen. The case of money was still clutched in his hand. A second later he felt a gun pressed to his neck, and then Giordano yanked him to his feet.
"What are you doing?" Neal yelped.
"Nothing personal." Giordano dragged him back. "Just a little leverage. I don't think the feds are going to be too happy about shooting an unarmed man."
Neal took a couple gasping breaths trying to keep his feet under him, as he stumbled backwards.
"Don't shoot," Giordano screamed stepping up with Neal standing in front. The barrel of the gun was pressed against the fleshy part of his neck and staring to hurt from the pressure.
Slowly the agents seemed to realise what was going on because Neal heard the shouts to hold their fire.
"I'd hate to see the papers tomorrow, that the FBI gunned down an innocent man, just to arrest little old me." Giordano was slowly stepping backwards. "Well, not completely innocent," the man laughed a bit. "But it would still be bad publicity don't you think."
Neal decided since the painting was still at large he was going to try and let them know his cover needed to be protected.
"Please, my name is James Halstead. I'm just an art expert. This is all a mistake. Please don't let me die." He sounded pathetic, and pleaded, and it was an Oscar worthy performance. Hopefully it would work.
Giordano's men took the cue to back with him slowly out of the warehouse. Neal didn't think they'd shoot him, since he was clearly worth more alive than dead, but it was hard to tell.
Outside the warehouse, and they were walking towards the cars parked off to the side. Neal tried to keep his breathing under control. Just don't make me get in the car, he thought.
Apparently that wish didn't work because Giordano pulled him in and the vehicles began backing away, and then turning.
"What are you doing? I gave you what you want. It's not my fault that Nicholas guy stole the painting." Neal really hated in situation that involved guns, and small, enclosed spaces were even worse.
"I told you Mr. Halstead, it's nothing personal. In fact, in just a few blocks, I will be more than happy to let you out of the car. Unlike my pathetic relatives I am a man of my word, and you can keep your money. I would however suggest you leave town for a while." He gave a nod to the bodyguard sitting next to Neal, and he suddenly felt a searing pain in his left arm.
Neal cried out and released the case to clutch at his arm. Giordano's man held a knife now slick with blood.
"Just a little reminded Mr. Halstead. No one crosses me, and if you even think about talking to the cops, or the feds or even to your priest. Next time, that knife will slit your throat."