Neal had moved without thinking of the repercussions. There was a small part of his brain screaming "Peter's gonna kill you!" But he shoved it aside and focused entirely on trying to intercept Keller. If these paintings got out, there would be a whole host of negative repercussions. Peter would be in some serious shit with the FBI. Keller would be free and probably plotting revenge for his last stint in jail. Ammon would get away, again, and knowing he was out on the street (and that he knew where Neal was) was going to mean endless complications for Neal. Ammon had a control over his life, that no matter how hard Neal ran, or how many times he changed his identity, or how many documents and records he destroyed, Neal simply couldn't escape.
Catching up with Keller was going to be the tricky part. If he could catch up with his old friend, rival, and enemy, he could spin the lies and manipulate Keller to hand over the paintings. That would be the easy part. He was Neal Caffrey, professional conman, after all. Neal slipped around the west side of the building, careful to avoid the agents around the building. He knew that Peter would have put an alert out for him by now. He reached his goal: the fire escape. It took a few jumps, but he finally managed to catch hold of the lowest rung and pull down the ladder. He scrabbled up, trying to be careful of his suit. Neal climbed up the seemingly endless steps, until he emerged on the roof. He crouched down, and listened. After a few seconds he heard a door, heavy, slide open with a screech.
"Keller! I know you're up here!" Neal carefully stood, keeping his hands in plain sight so that Keller wouldn't get a hasty trigger-finger. Sure enough, about forty feet away, near a service entrance, stood Keller. He was holding the pistol clumsily in his left hand, and trying to juggle the remains of two bulky frames under his right arm.
"You're like a bad penny, Caffrey! Get out of my heist or else I'll shoot you. I still owe you for that Russian shit!"
"Bygones, Kels!" Neal tried to walk toward Keller. He'd grown his hair out and obviously spent some time—probably during his stint in prison—working on gaining muscle mass.
Keller brandished the gun. "Get back!"
"I'm following instructions, Kels, just like you. Remember the Smithsonian?"
Keller paused, and again shuffled the frames against his hip. "Which time?"
"Campbell's Soup!" They had stolen a collection of diamonds that had been cut into the alphabet. They named their heist Campbell's Soup because the diamonds were roughly the same size as the tiny letters in a can of Alphabet Soup. There had been a giant change in plans when their get-away vehicle had been towed for parking illegally. Keller had forgotten to put their forged handicapped card in the window. As a result, he was forced to remain as a distraction while Neal found an alternative route home. He'd nearly been caught on the subway-he hoped Keller would remember that particular detail.
"Oh fuck you! I'm not taking these to the subway!" Keller apparently did remember exactly how easily the police could sea off the subway—they could flip a switch and his train would be stuck on the tracks while they sealed off the ends with agents. He began backing away from Neal. He knew he was trapped. He could either get past Neal and onto the fire escape, or face the FBI agents following his trail inside the museum.
"I'm not asking you to take them on the subway. Frank told me to do it." Neal leaned nonchalantly against the edge of the railing.
Keller glanced hastily over his shoulder at the service entrance. "Prove it!"
"I'll transfer the funds for those paintings right now, or better yet, you call him!" Neal hoped Peter was listening to this. He knew Peter could hack his back account information and make it look like he'd transferred the money to Keller. He had picked up one of the radio transmitters disguised as a watch, and was wearing it now.
Keller set down the paintings, and began digging a pocket knife against the staples holding the canvas to the wooden frame. He kept glancing nervously between Neal and the door. He knew he was about to be trapped. He freed one painting and rolled it up tightly. A small part of Neal's brain was relieved that Keller hadn't actually cut the canvas. Those paintings were too valuable to ruin that way.
"Fuck you! Fuck you, Neal! God dammit. Fine. Get out your phone. SLOWLY." Keller picked up the other portrait and jogged over to the fire escape. He held his gun, steady, at Neal.
Neal slowly lifted his jacket lapel and gingerly pulled out his phone. "My phone, Kels. Just the phone." At his words, Keller relaxed slightly.
Neal looked at the screen and saw he had five missed calls and several text messages from Peter. No doubt he was furious. He ignored the notifications and opened up the banking app on his phone. A text popped up on the screen, interrupting him. It was from Peter and simply read, "Done."
Neal almost sighed in relief. "Look, Kels, see the balance?" He turned his phone around. "Half a mil for each."
"That wasn't the deal." Keller licked his lips. His nervousness was growing almost tangible.
"Yeah it was. You think I'm dumb enough to accept an assignment from Frank without verifying all the facts?" Neal silently thanked Jones for debriefing him during the early hours that morning. Their bugs had picked up the dollar amount for the paintings.
"You got me, can't blame a guy for trying for a little extra pocket money. Okay, start the transfer. Seriously, Caffrey, lets do this and get out of here. You're a fool if you're gonna try for the subway." Keller began attacking the frame of the second painting.
"What's your account number?" Neal carefully repeated each digit, allowing Peter and Jones enough time to fake the transfer.
Keller rolled up the second painting. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and after a few clicks to verify he had the money, he tossed the rolled up paintings at Neal's feet. "Tell Frank next time he wants to change the plans midway through I want a courtesy call."
Neal picked up the paintings. "The only reason he didn't call you is because he knew you'd be pissed that he still remembered the Smithsonian incident. You were the one that screwed up the getaway, after all."
Keller flicked his middle finger at Neal. "That's bullshit. Get out of here before I decide to deliver those to Frank myself, and leave your dead body here for the feds."
"I wouldn't go down the southern stairwell, if I were you." Neal hooked one leg over the fire escape railing. He knew that if he told Keller to not take the southern stairs, he would. And, hopefully, that would give Peter enough time to get agents inside the building waiting for Keller.
Neal made it down two stories and spoke into his watch. "Peter, if you're listening, Keller is going down the south stairs. I'm going to call Ammon and have him meet me for the portraits; he's on his way to the airport. I'll have him meet me at the subway station on 68th Street. Please, please, get someone there to arrest him!"
Neal pulled out his phone, and ignored the newest text message from Peter. "Stop! Don't you dare arrange this meet."
He dialed the number from the wire-tap approval. Sure enough, it was Ammon's personal cell.
"Frank. I've got your art."
Ammon's voice was muffled as he ordered, "Pull the cab over right now!" He spoke clearly into the phone. "Dannyboy! Why are you calling me, and not Keller?"
"The Feds caught him." Neal made it down the rest of the fire escape and launched himself at the ground.
"I knew the rumours about you being legit were fake. You always were my boy, willing to do anything to keep the family safe and out of trouble. I've wanted these two paintings for a long time." Neal felt sick to his stomach at the oily sound of Ammon's voice and the memories his simple observation brought to mind.
"Well, how about I meet you at 68th, near the subway. I need a clean getaway after the fiasco Keller made." Neal took off at a dead sprint, not caring that he was getting strange looks from pedestrians.
Ammon grew muffled again, Neal figured he was holding his hand over the phone while he spoke with the cabbie. After a few seconds, he said, "I'll meet you in five, Danny."
Neal rounded the corner and was relieved to see no FBI agents waiting to bring him back to Peter. He leaned against the subway entrance and pulled out his phone. He called Peter, bracing himself for the tongue lashing heading his way.
Peter didn't yell. What he did say caused Neal to feel a tremor of fear, though. "Neal, we are going to have a very painful discussion after this is finished. Do you understand me?"
Neal knew he was in some serious trouble, just from Peter's tone alone. He answered with a meek sounding "I understand," but his mind was racing to figure out how he could get Peter calm before this threatened painful discussion. "No doubt," Neal reassured himself, "Peter is just stressed because he watched his entire sting operation fall apart. He'll be okay once we catch Frank and the paintings are back in the Met."
Before Neal could say anything else, Peter asked gruffly, "What do you need from us? What backup can we get you?"
"The arresting people is your area of expertise, boss. I just steal valuables." Neal said with a smile.
"Okay. We've got someone on the roof of a nearby building with a sniper rifle. You'll be covered. We've got two agents who will be inside the subway entrance, but they're headed there via the subway station outside the Mark. Four are making their way on foot now, but you've got a bit of a head start. Our guys should be in place in eight to ten minutes." Peter filled Neal in with information as Jones gave it to him.
"No good, Peter, he's gonna be here in five."
"Then stall him!" Peter swore angrily and started barking orders for Jones to get his people there immediately. Neal hung up his phone and began scanning the crowd for his old mentor.
Author's Note:
Thanks for all the feedback guys. I didn't realize I left it on such a cliffhanger! Whoops! This one has slightly more resolution than the previous chapter. I hope you guys don't mind the plot-I was trying to keep it similar to an actual episode, with some theft and undercover action scenes. Right now I've got a total of 10, maybe 11 chapters, so we're almost done.
Thank you for the advice about contacting USA and Fox in order to renew White Collar for more than a partial sixth and possibly seventh season. I have written them and expressed, in no uncertain terms, my extreme displeasure with the cancellation. I understand if Matt Bomer wants to expand out of network TV (I'd love to see him on the big screen) but I'm going to be so sad when this show ends...!
