AN: Yeah! I actually got this out a little earlier than I thought I would. That's what happens when you spend all day writing for your English class though! I'm amazed that I got over 1,000 words of this done in a little over an hour. Anyway, the story is starting to move a little faster now, and next chapter there will be some action finally. That doesn't mean the story is ending though! Only the first part of the story :D Big thanks to all my reviewers, alerters (which isn't really a word, but its 2 in the morning so cut me some slack please!), and favorites. Sorry I haven't responded, but I've barely had time to write lately. Instead I'll just give you this chapter! *unbetaed so all mistakes are my own*

Chapter Nine - Coffee and Consultants

Fowler was coming out of the conference room as Peter was going in. The man had a small smirk on his face when he caught Peter's eyes, but he only scowled back in return. It wouldn't do any good to instigate anything, so he kept his mouth shut and continued into the conference room. Neal was seated at the long glass table, pouring over a file of some sort. Jones was powering on his laptop, and Lauren was eyeing the new consultant with some unidentified emotion that Peter didn't really want to think about.

The man of the hour was seated at the head of the table, his black glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he was looked over a file. Peter could immediately tell that this man was not a "normal" FBI agent. He was a bit too well dressed. They all glanced up when he opened the door.

"Ah! You must be Agent Burke," Kent said, rising out of the chair and leaning over to enthusiastically shake Peter's hand. "SSA Kent. But you can call me Daniel. Or Dan if you prefer it." The man grinned brightly, and gestured towards the file he had been looking at. "I know your superior already alerted you to my arrival so I figured we could just get started. We were just going over the forensics report. Your guys are very good."

Peter felt a bit stunned; the agent seemed like he had had one too many lattes. He slowly caught up and was able to respond, "Nice to meet you too. They sent it up already?"

"Well, no," Kent said, sounding sheepish. "It was my first stop when I got here. Since I couldn't get to the scene, I figured I should check out the evidence before we started. I just picked up the files to save the poor clerk the trip."

"I see," Peter said slowly. He reached out for the file that Kent extended and moved to sit next to Neal. The man didn't even look up, apparently so absorbed in the report. "What did they conclude?"

"Well, there were numerous latent prints around the scene," Lauren said, having dragged her gaze away from Kent to look at Peter. "But all of them either matched Carson, or one of his employees."

"So the prints were a dead end."

"Not exactly," Neal finally spoke up, finally glancing at Peter. "It's possible that the thief wore gloves, and left no print."

"Or it was an inside job," Jones pointed out.

"In which the thief did leave their prints, but it wouldn't matter. Did the background checks come back yet?" Neal directed the question at Kent, and Peter felt a bit put out for some reason.

"They did, and they were all clean," Kent said, frowning as he flipped through the file. "Not even a traffic ticket."

Jones whistled in appreciation. "Must have had some good driver's ed teachers."

Kent broke into laughter, and they all looked at him. Neal was thankful that the other agent's attention was not on him, since he shot the laughing man a glare. He had no clue why Shaw was acting like a hyperactive kid. Although it was mildly entertaining, it was so different from the personality he was used to from the man that it was a bit unnerving.

"That was a good one Agent Jones. Driver's ed," Kent said, shaking his head and removing his glasses to theatrically wipe at his eyes. Jones seemed a bit shocked, as did Lauren who was now eyeing the agent with disdain.

"Right," Neal said, attempting to steer the conversation back to the case. "Do we know if forensics found any traces of blood? That picture did appear to be dropped. It's entirely possible that one of them was injured."

"That's good," Peter said, flipping through the report. "Says here they found evidence of something in the cracks between the floor tiles. Looks like blood."

"In between them?" Jones asked incredulously.

"They thought it looked like it was scrubbed," Kent chimed in.

"That wouldn't make any sense though," Neal muttered. "If the thieves knew that Carson would notice his security system was down, then why take the extra time to scrub the floor? Why not get out as soon as possible?"

"That inside job is looking more and more credible," Peter said, meeting Neal's eyes before glancing at Kent. "You're the expert on the security system. Any flaws that an insider could capitalize on?"

Kent looked thoughtful for a second, then said, "Well, there are a few I suppose. That particular system was developed by a company called Fortress Security, and is extremely similar in design to many that I have worked with."

"With the Bureau? Or your previous position?" Peter asked quietly. It was a legitimate question, and Kent knew it, but it was also a rather loaded one.

"Both," Kent answered shortly, his demeanor indicating that any more questions about his 'previous position' would not be answered. "It's not an uncommon company for criminals. Many of the specialists who work at Fortress are ex-criminals, not a lot unlike Mr. Caffrey here."

Neal scowled at his friend, who smiled in response, well aware of Peter watching them. He really hated being reminded of his criminal status and felt all too ready to smack that grin off Shaw's face. However, he knew that it would not be right to hit a consultant. He was comforted a bit with the fact that he could make it up to the man later, away from Peter's eyes.

"And the FBI knows about this company?" Lauren spoke up, apparently shocked at the idea of a security company run by criminals. Ex or not.

"I said 'many', not all," Kent shot back. "They also employ ex-law enforcement and a few civilians. It's a legit business, and they have consulted with us before. You might have heard of the Roark case."

"Of course," Peter said, leaning back in his chair. "That was down in California wasn't it?"

Despite knowing exactly what the case was, considering he had helped bring Roark down, Neal plastered a confused look on his face and asked, "The Roark case? I haven't heard of that one."

"You wouldn't have. You were in prison when it happened," Peter said absentmindedly.

"It was in California," Kent said, answering Peter's question before addressing Neal. "Roark Instruments was a computer software company, who at the time, had a security system much like Carson's. Five years ago, they had created an open-source operating system that came to the attention of the FBI when it was discovered that the system contained a virus. That virus would be able to take off information from a user's hard drive which the company could then access."

"And now, many people keep their bank and credit card information stored in their computers," Neal finished, an impressed look on his face. "That's brilliant."

"Yeah, well it wasn't so brilliant for the millions they ripped off," Peter said sharply. "After the public found out that their information wasn't as secure as they hoped, the White Collar Unit was flooded with calls."

"Isn't that usually a Cyber Crimes thing?" Neal asked curiously, leaning back in his chair and idly spinning a pen in his hand.

"It is, but Cyber Crimes often works with us. All white collar crimes agents have some training in cyber crime, and Macy's team deals almost exclusively with them." Peter said. He paused, as if realizing they had gotten off track. "We heard about the raid on Roark, it sounded like it was a difficult one."

"Oh, it was. We ended up just blasting some doors down because the security was that tight," Kent said slowly. Neal recognized the look that was forming on the man's face. He'd thought of something. "But if Carson really has a system like that, then we may be in luck."

"Why do you say that?" questioned Neal, and he placed the pen back on the desk before picking up the file. He spread it out on the desk, and looked frustrated. "From what I'm seeing, it seems like everything is a dead end."

"Not necessarily," Kent cut in, pointing at Peter and grinning. The FBI agent for his part just appeared confused at the man singling him out. "What if we don't look at it as a security system. What if," he leaned forward in his chair excitedly, "we look at it as a computer system. As a type of cyber crime. What's one of the first things you search for?"

"It's origin. Records. There are a few different things we could check," Peter said.

"Records," Neal said, his head snapping up and he met Peter's eyes. "We look at their records."

"Exactly." Kent got up from his chair and walked around the table to Neal's chair. His eyes scanned the documents spread out on the table, but he didn't see what he had apparently hoped for and he leaned against the table. He glanced at them all before continuing, "We had trouble getting into Roark, but once we were in we could access almost anything. And one of the first things we found was a security log. Someone had tried to delete a huge section of the logs, and it didn't work. There was a bug in the system where it would send the deleted files to a different folder, instead of the trash. It was only later that we found out the security company had made the bug on purpose, and inserted it into all of their systems. It's designed as a way to back-up the files and prevent deletion of certain information."

"Who would want to delete security logs?" Neal said, understanding the logic.

"Right. The logs kept a list of who came and went in specific areas at specific times. Since Fortress did Carson's system it's a fairly safe bet that we can do the same in this case," Kent said, a grin stretching across his face again.

"You think Carson will give us access to his system?" Neal asked. "He seemed a bit protective of it last time."

"Why wouldn't he? I'm sure he wants to catch this guy just as much as we do," Peter said. He caught a look passing between Neal and Kent, but was confused as to what that could mean. It was odd how compliant Neal was being. Usually if another consultant, or agent, was bought in, he'd be a bit more active, or annoying. The stillness and focus he was showing, most certainly was not normal Neal.

"Unless Carson was in on it," Jones suggested. "But why call the FBI on himself? And why steal it in the first place?"

"It doesn't make much sense either way," Peter said, shaking his head. "In any case, we should check it out again this morning, see if there's anything we missed. Lauren and Jones, I want you two to stay here and go over the background checks again. Specifically bank accounts. Watch for any large cash deposits made recently. If it is an inside job, that would be the place to start. Neal and I will go check out the gallery again, and see if maybe we can't find those logs."

"Hope you don't mind if I tag along," Kent interrupted, sounding a bit upset to be excluded. "I do have some experience with computer systems."

Peter jerked with surprise. He had forgotten about the fact that Kent was their consultant also now, and he was sure Hughes would not be happy if he didn't let the man join them. Eyeing the man's eager face, he consented and consulted his watch. "Fine. We'll leave at ten. That gives you some time to settle. I'm sure it was a long flight."

"You have no clue."

Shaw sighed as he leant over the sink, then raised his eyes to meet Neal's in the bathroom mirror. The man had an intense look on his face as he watched Shaw. He was standing next to the hand dryer, and he had his arms folded across his chest as he always did when he was thinking.

"Something feels wrong about this."

"I know," Shaw said, turning around and leaning back against the sink so he could face Neal. He copied his friend's pose and continued. "Believe me, I know."

"Why did Carson call the FBI for a theft? You didn't steal anything." Neal looked frustrated. "We're missing something."

"I agree. Trust me, its nothing I haven't asked myself within the past two days." Shaw shook his head and said, "The only thing that makes any sense would be that he's using the FBI as a shield. If he thinks the CIA is on to him, this investigation could be a good cover to move the Intersect."

"You're so sure that he made one."

"I don't know, you tell me," Shaw said, gesturing towards Neal.

"All I know for sure is that the man creeps me out a bit, and his pictures give me splitting headaches that don't want to disappear. Got any Tylenol?" Neal asked, rubbing his temples wearily. "I'm running on empty and skipped breakfast. Plus, I really don't want to let on to Peter that I'm not one hundred percent. He'd send me home so fast I'd get road burn. It's not funny," he mumbled at Shaw's laughter.

"Yes it is. I don't carry painkillers with me, but there may be some in the med kit in the car. I'll check when we leave for the gallery," Shaw said. "Maybe it will stave off another headache."

"Let's hope so." Neal moaned slightly as a spike of pain shot through his head. He closed his eyes, tiling his head back and pressing his palms against his eyes tightly. The sound of harsh breathing echoed in the small bathroom. "Because I'm not sure if I will be able to handle looking at them for long. For some reason they mess with the Intersect."

"Really? Interesting. I wonder why. Do you think it's the pictures?"

"Could be," Neal said roughly, eyes still closed. "It felt like I was trying to flash but couldn't. Whatever it is, it's painful." He let his hands drop down to his sides, and slowly opened his eyes, meeting Shaw's now concerned ones. "We should get back to Peter before they suspect something. We've been in here for a long time. Never know what conclusions they might draw."

Shaw growled when Neal wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. His concern was suddenly gone, replaced with anger. He jerked the bathroom door open and gestured for Neal to go first. As the man was passing by, he waited until he was within earshot before whispering menacingly, "You bring that up again and I'll make you scream, but it won't be in pleasure."

Peter tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the elevator to make it to the right floor. His arms were full of coffee and a brown paper bag from the café across the street. Whosoever idea it had been to build a café across from an FBI office, should have been given a medal. The standard issue bureau coffee, as Neal liked to call it, was not always palate worthy and considering that Macy's team had pulled an all-nighter, it was better off to get fresh stuff. Plus, he knew that Neal had probably not had breakfast yet.

Now the delicious aroma of Italian roast and cinnamon was filling the small space, and he could hear his elevator companions shifting around. If they wanted espresso that bad, they could get it themselves, for god's sake. Finally, the bell dinged, and the doors opened. Shuffling out of the elevator, Peter was met with Kent and Neal. The two had apparently just came from the adjacent hallway. Kent was whispering something to Neal, who was rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache. The man certainly looked paler than normal, and Peter was suddenly glad that he had gotten food. When they saw Peter, hands laden with coffee and a paper bag, Kent abruptly stopped his one-sided conversation and rushed to help carry the drinks while Neal hastily removed his hand from his head.

"Here, let me help," Kent said, grabbing the cardboard drink carton from Peter. "Oh, smells good!"

"Thanks," Peter said, a little breathlessly. "I hope you don't mind Italian roast. Wasn't sure what to get."

"Anything with caffeine is fine by me." Kent smile in appreciation and headed towards the glass doors of the office.

"I also got some rolls, since I know you probably didn't eat any thing for breakfast," Peter said, addressing Neal who was trailing behind them. "You're gonna get sick one of these days," he scolded.

Neal just grinned brightly, the effect a little ruined though due to the dark rings under his eyes and his pale skin color. "Me? I never get sick. Though if I did, I'm sure your wife would be glad to take care of me. Her chicken soup is the best I've ever had."

Peter and Kent snorted, at the same time. Neal frowned, eyeing the two.

"That reminds me," Peter said, setting the bag on the desk Neal sometimes used, before turning to the man. "My wife invited you to dinner again. With a condition."

The look on Kent's face was a bit funny as he glanced at Neal. It was obvious he had no clue what was going on, although it looked like he desperately wanted to ask.

"She knows I'd never pass up dinner at the Burke's. What's the condition?" Neal reached for the bag, and grabbed a napkin and cinnamon roll.

"Her words were, 'bring one of those fancy wines'." Neal laughed, and nodded.

"Sounds like a deal. What is she planning?"

"I have no clue," Peter said, and took a sip from his coffee. "It's a surprise."

"I'll bring a white and a red then."

Nodding, Peter casually turned to Kent and said, "I'm sure my wife wouldn't mind another guest. Would you like to join us?"

It was the question Peter had been wanting to ask ever since he saw Neal and Kent together in the conference room. There was something between the two, and he had not quite figured out what it was. The covert looks, whispering, and ease of which Neal seemed to have gotten along with the new consultant had thrown Peter for a loop. Neal was certainly not acting like Neal.

He was always wary of law enforcement of any kind, which was understandable considering his felony status. That did not appear to be the case between these two. It was almost as if they knew each other, but that really didn't make sense.

Dinner could be a perfect excuse to get them in a small room together so Peter could just observe how the two interacted. Moreover, he was positive that he could get El to interrogate, wrong word, politely inquire about the consultant. Her calm and friendly personality had helped him with Neal, and he was sure that she would notice the difference in the man when he was with Kent.

"W-wow," Kent stuttered, his eyes wide. He seemed surprised. "Thank you for the offer, really. And I would love too, but I haven't even checked into my hotel yet. I'm sure you understand."

Peter nodded, looking a little put out. He glanced at Neal who was watching the exchange with amusement. "I do. You're welcome to stop by later tonight though. I'm sure El would love to meet you, and since Neal will be there too you can hear him talk your ear off this time about security systems and how to crack them."

Kent choked on the gulp of coffee he was taking, his eyes watering from the burning sensation it had caused, and Peter slapped him on the back a couple of times. When he was finally able to talk, he rasped. "Sounds like my kind of party."