Chapter Nine: Determined

Thursday, June 24, 10:15AM

Walking away from Neal's cell was one of the hardest things Peter had had to do in a long time. He tried not to dwell on the restraints, his physical condition. He tried to remember the conversation, the brainstorming, how he had left his jacket…and maybe no one would notice that for a while, at least.

He had returned the borrowed taser to the officer as soon as the cell door locked behind him, giving him a look.

"I was wondering," he said, his voice grim, "what possible reason there could be to taser a man who is fully restrained like that?"

The officer cleared his throat. "Procedure," he said.

"What kind of procedure?" Peter gritted his teeth.

"When we take an inmate for a shower, it's the approved method for immobilizing them during the process. No permanent damage, better than drugs." The officer had the decency to look uncomfortable, at least, as if he didn't really believe it but was parroting a manual.

Peter clenched his fists. He had to hold it together, because if he started punching people it would jeopardize his case. It was best to let things be until he could get back, otherwise someone might take it out on Neal, and…he wasn't sure how much more the man could withstand.

With that in mind, he decided to bypass Henry Green's office on the way out. If he had to look a man in the face who would order conditions like Caffrey was in, he knew he would lose it. He simply collected his phone, speed-walked to the main security gate, gathered his weapons, and barreled towards his car.

His first call was to Diana.

"New strategy," he said. "Listen closely."

He described the intrinsic value argument and the preservation of value trial run idea.

She murmured an approval. "It's good," she said. "What did you come up with for extreme mistreatment? Other than the obvious?"

"I think the value argument is our winner," he replied. "But I will need to describe the conditions of his current imprisonment to make the trial run argument. I'll write it up when I get back to the office." Peter didn't think he'd be able to say it out loud. It was going to be hard enough to write up his report. "Can I task you with looping in Margaret Beechwood, getting her thoughts? I should be back in less than an hour."

"Sure thing. If it's okay with you, I think I'll put Jones on the Dutchman piece. Get him to find out if Neal's right about that red fiber. We can explain the investigation and its importance."

"Good idea. We'll want to ask the court to keep that information private, so mention that to Beechwood as well."

"On it, boss."

Next, he called Elizabeth.

"How is he?" she asked, without saying hello.

"Not good," said Peter, honestly. "El, if you had seen him…"

"I spoke with the mortgage company," she said. "We've got enough increased equity in the house to refinance with cash out rather than take out a second mortgage. Between that and the stock account, we'll have more than enough to cover those contracts. If you needed to high ball the offer."

Peter smiled. "You read my mind. Okay, put it in action, but don't pull the trigger yet. And El? Thank you. For being so great about this. I know it's a lot to ask."

"Damn straight it is. But you wouldn't be you if you didn't ask it. And I'm excited to finally meet this infamous Neal Caffrey."

"You'll like him," said Peter. "He's smart. And you guys have the same taste in art and food."

She laughed. "Finally, a man with taste will be in my house. One thing…are you sure he's not going to run?"

Peter sighed. "No. I'm not. But he says he won't, so I'm trusting him…and the GPS collar he'll be fitted with."

"Good enough for me. Will you be home for dinner?"

"I don't know yet. We're filing this thing tomorrow." He explained their strategy.

"So he might be with us tomorrow night," she said.

"We can only hope," said Peter. "I can't leave him in there any longer than absolutely necessary, so I'm going to do my best to get him out."

"Then whether you're home for dinner or not, I know how I'm spending my evening. There's a lot of storage in the guest room that will have to be moved up to the attic."

Trust his brilliant wife to think of everything. "You are literally the best, El. I'll try to get home to help."

"Well, lots to do. Bye, hon," she said.

Peter felt an almost desperate ache in his chest after he hung up the phone. Part of it was because Elizabeth was in this, really in it, along with him. His life had definitely gone up in value when she had entered it, and asking her out was the best decision he had ever made.

Part of it was the idea that, tomorrow evening, there was a possibility he'd have rescued Neal Caffrey from his nightmare and have him right in his very own house. This decision felt no less important than the other.

* WC – WC – WC – WC – WC – WC – WC *

Thursday, June 24, 4:40PM

Margaret Beechwood was just as excited about the intrinsic value argument as Peter and Neal had been.

"It's brilliant, Peter," she said, later that afternoon. The Caffrey Team, as he was now thinking about it, was fully assembled in the conference room at the White Collar offices.

"You think it will work?"

"I really do. There's a ton of applicable precedent for the idea that the government can transfer ownership of items of value to society and prevent their destruction. You said Caffrey came up with the argument?" She was clicking away at her laptop and taking rapid notes on a yellow legal pad.

"That's right."

"He'd make a fair lawyer," she said. "If it weren't for his pesky felony record, I'd recommend law school."

"There is one thing," said Diana. "We were talking about how it's kind of a shame Caffrey only has a few months left on his sentence. In a way, that limits the value we can argue."

"Because how much benefit could he provide in only a few months. There's nothing obligating him to continue working for the FBI after the Contract ends. That's true. How do we get around that?" asked Peter.

Jones cleared his throat. "Well, here's what I'm thinking. You said Friedrich didn't file for an extension of his sentence to compensate him for the value of the murdered inmate because he thought Caffrey was too dangerous to have around, right?"

"Right. And he's not dangerous. That's utterly ridiculous. This kid is totally non-violent." Peter didn't have any qualms about that. Neal hadn't been responsible for the other inmate's death, he believed that wholeheartedly.

"But an extension of the Contract would have been a valid response by Friedrich. He could easily have gotten even ten years out of Caffrey to make up for the ten years of service he had lost." Jones leaned back in his chair. "So the system approves extension of Contract as a way to increase or preserve value."

Peter nodded. "You're thinking we tell the court we don't just want to force a sale for the remainder of Caffrey's initial Contract. That we want to do what Friedrich did not…we're not worried about safety, so we'll take over the extra time."

"Which would increase the value to society, which would strengthen our argument for the forced sale." Diana finished the thought, and turned her attention to Beechwood. "What do you think, Margaret?"

Beechwood had stopped clicking, and was thinking. "I think we need to make that part of it," she said. "It really does make things more enticing from the perspective of the premise of preserving value."

Peter frowned. That hadn't been part of his conversation with Neal. In fact, he had specifically noted that his ownership of the Contract was temporary. Still…it was better than a death sentence. He could go back, talk to Neal, see if Neal would go for it. Or he could just do it, and deal with the consequences once Neal was out.

"Let's do it," he said. "How much time do we want to ask for?"

"Ten years would be logical," said Jones, "since we're paying for that Contract too."

"But it seems unfair," said Diana. "His original Contract was only four."

"Well," said Beechwood, "why don't we ask for four, then? Doubling his initial sentence to increase the value to society. If the judge asks why not ten, we can argue that there's no actual proof that Caffrey committed the murder."

"Okay," said Peter. "Go for four." He turned to the man sitting at the end of the table. Hughes had been silent during most of their conversation, frowning and rubbing his chin. "Reese, what are you thinking?"

Hughes sighed. "I'm wondering if this is a good idea," he said. "I'm on board with saving this kid's life, but…working for the FBI? You think he's not going to get into even more trouble?"

Peter shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. He's brilliant, though."

"So are you, some would say."

"Yeah, so imagine having two of me working on cases. And he's got…information, training, connections that we just don't have. We've worked with CIs before."

Hughes nodded. "Well, I'm on board for the trial run at the very least. I'll trust you, but it's on your head if this goes south."

"Absolutely. I'll take full responsibility." Inwardly, Peter breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he had been worried Hughes was going to torpedo the whole plan.

Beechwood looked around, then snapped her laptop shut. "Okay troops, I've got all your statements, I've got the case law, I'm going to go home, change into something much more comfortable, and write the hell out of this Petition. I'll have affidavits for you to sign in the morning, Peter. You too, Reese."

"I've got Elizabeth on the financial piece, so if we need to have cash available as a good faith payment, let me know and we'll make it happen," said Peter, getting to his feet. "Diana, Jones, I want you two back on the Dutchman. Pull together a file that I can give to Caffrey as soon as we spring him, start figuring out where our next leads are. We can't lose any time on this once the clock starts ticking on the trial run."

"Got it," said Jones.

Diana looked over at Beechwood, who was gathering her things. "Actually," she said, "I was thinking I might also be of additional help with the Petition. If you come up with any questions while you're writing."

Beechwood smiled. "A second brain and set of eyes is always welcome. You mind working at my place? I have a process, and it involves a comfortable sofa."

Peter looked between the two women. "Okay, fine. Diana, you can be in touch with Jones from there, work on both pieces."

Hughes stood. "All right, everyone. Let's get this done, so we can get back to actual investigating." He shot a stern look at Peter, but underneath, Peter could see the understanding in his eyes.

"Thank you, Reese."

The team scattered, leaving Peter to stare out the windows at the city below. He felt good about this, confident. They were going to win.

That awful feeling in the pit of his stomach was not because he was worried about the outcome. It was because he couldn't stop picturing Neal, stuck in that horrible little cell.

I'm coming back, he thought. I promise.