Neal nodded his head at the agents wearing headgear and body armour. He eyed the ram with a frown. It wasn't the best way to get into a room but he wasn't about to suggest his lock picking skills. At least their crashing entry would shock the criminal.
"We traced him to this apartment," Peter explained before turning to Diana. "Is he in there?"
"There's movement inside," Diana said. Like Neal, she was eyeing the ram. Unlike Neal, there was a glint of excitement in her expression. "Please tell me I get to break down the door."
Neal watched a shadow move under the door. Did the kid know they were standing out here? The FBI wasn't the stealthiest of agents.
"Since you asked so nicely," Peter said.
With a wide grin, Diana bashed the door in. The other agents flanked her, calling out for anyone inside to freeze.
"Hands in the-" Peter cut off the speech as they realised the apartment was empty. The movement was caused by a vacuuming robot with a vase stuck on it. "Cute."
Neal looked at Peter like he had gone crazy.
"You want me to cuff it?" Diana asked as the agents put away their guns.
"We should hold it for questioning," Peter quipped back.
"Why are you smiling?" Neal questioned. This didn't seem funny to him. The criminal had tricked them and gotten away. Normally they would be more upset about it.
"He's clever," Peter said. The vacuum robot didn't move in a fixed pattern so the FBI didn't realise when he had bolted. "He must have an escape route somewhere."
"You're enjoying this," Neal commented in surprise.
"I love tracking the smart ones. Now that you're on my side, I miss the challenge."
Neal frowned. He didn't like the sound of that. "All he's done are a couple of mildly impressive forgeries allegedly cracked a face and put a vase on a Roomba. What?" Peter was staring at him in a strange way. Like he knew something Neal didn't.
"Nothing."
Diana walked out of the next room. "Boss, you're going to want to see this."
The wall was covered in photographs. Images of the agents who had been following this kid had been stuck to the wall in an arrangement which spelt out the letters F, B and I.
"Alright, maybe he is good," Neal admitted. Reluctantly.
He hadn't meant to nickname the kid. The kid already had a name, Scott Rivers, so Neal didn't get why the FBI had latched onto his joke about the kid being 'Robin Hoodie'. Scott stole from the rich, donated to charity and had been photographed on scene in a hoodie.
Neal twitched around the workplace with everyone making jokes about how this kid was 'the next Neal Caffrey' or things like that. Peter took Neal home with him that evening, admitting that he hoped they would get some real progress made when Neal wasn't glaring over his desk at people.
"You have a scary glare at times," Peter admitted. "I heard Jones telling Diana that his blood ran cold. Blake thinks it's a sign of how good a conman you are since you can get people to do what you want with a look."
Neal grinned at Peter. "A scary glare? Come on Peter, we both know you and any of the FBI agents could take me in a real fight."
They set up in the dining room, Peter at the head of the table and Neal to his right with the information on the case spread out between them.
"He's made a donation which doesn't match up to any of his alleged crimes," Peter mused.
"Match up?" El questioned as she brought out tea for all three of them.
"Every donation he's made has a connection to what he stole," Neal informed her. "He stole a half-million dollar bottle of scotch and made a similar donation to the Betty Ford Clinic. Since he needs to make the donation to get the card he signs, it would make sense that we can use the donations to figure out where he'll be."
El looked at the information in interest.
"Robin Hoodie's next crime-"
"Don't call him that," Neal grumbled.
"Is going to fund his donation to an organ donation charity."
"Maybe he's stealing a rare church organ?" Neal suggested, "as a play on words?"
Peter thought about it. "There might be more likely options. Organ donation makes you think of driver licences with it being marked on there."
Neal was sceptical. "He's going to rob the DMV?"
"I feel the pattern isn't as clear in what he's going to target," Peter sighed.
"How about targeting the Wayne event tomorrow?" El suggested.
"What?" Peter and Neal questioned in unison.
"The donation is for 100 grand, right?" El said. Peter and Neal nodded. "Well, Wayne is supposed to be showing of a motorbike tomorrow night worth that much."
"That's ridiculous," Neal said. "Wayne industries has their own charity, the Wayne Foundation, and Bruce Wayne is also a known philanthropist."
Peter gave him a curious look before shelving El's idea. "I don't see our connection to the organ charity."
"The night was supposed to be about Wayne Medical and how they are close to growing their own organs so people won't have to wait," El informed them. "But Wayne cancelled that and instead made it about this new bike of his."
"Do you really think Robin Hoodie would steal his bike?" Neal questioned.
El shrugged. "But hospitals sometimes have donorcycles. That could also be a connection?"
"Neal." Neal didn't like that tone of voice. It was bright, as if Peter had made a connection. Usually that made him happy but, this was not going to end well for him. "In your earlier assessment of Robin Hoodie-"
"It was a joke, please stop calling him that."
Peter ignored him. "You said that it was likely he was raised around people who had a lot of money and came to resent them. What's the likelihood he would go after Wayne tomorrow?"
"High," Neal admitted reluctantly. He really hoped Peter would keep him out of this then. He didn't want to see Bruce at all. He itched just being in the same city.
And he really should check the news more often since he didn't even realise the man was in New York.
Neal walked out of the elevator and into the office with a heavy heart. His gut churned like butter in a barrel. Peter had sent a message last night, saying that Hughes thought there was something behind their theory on where 'Robin Hoodie' would strike next.
It meant that he and Peter were staking out the party with a group of agents. Neal had avoided anything to do with his old mentor for years and has somehow avoided any mention of Wayne aside from news which was 90 percent made up anyway.
"Thank you for your time, Mr Wayne."
"Don't worry about it, Agent Burke." Neal froze as his desk, hands gripping the edge tightly. He hadn't even walked around his desk and his vision locked on his chair on the other side. He knew that voice. Had grown up hearing that voice in all its forms.
Bruce Wayne. Batman. 'Brucie'.
No, no, no, no, no, no, not now, why now, no, no, no;
"Dick?" Neal's head snapped up automatically.
Run!
Neal turned towards the doors and started to move, a moment too late. Bruce grabbed his lower arm and pulled him closer.
Using the momentum, Neal twisted to face Bruce and jumped. His hands braced themselves on Bruce's shoulders as he flipped over the bulkier man. Bruce had to let go or have his arm wrenched in a painful, impossible direction. Neal shoved his shoulder into Bruce's back and pushed him up against the wall.
He tried for the door again and grabbed Bruce's outstretched arm as the man shook himself off the wall and came for him again. Neal flipped Bruce across the room, onto his back and shoved the glass doors open.
An elevator dinged open and Neal jumped in, pushing the person inside out into the hall. He slammed the button for the ground floor and prayed Bruce wouldn't get here before the doors closed. Pressed up against the wall, Neal's heart wouldn't stop its rapid beating.
He spent the trip to the ground floor attempting to slow his breathing. He needed to walk out so that no one would stop him. If security or something came after him, then he would bolt. But until then, he had to keep a low profile. He passed agent and civilian alive on his quick walk out. He even jokingly said, "I forgot the coffee!" to an organised crime agent who commented he was going a little fast.
He made it to the sidewalk and slipped into a cab, mind racing over what to do now.
