Everything Old is new Again

By Ldynwaitin

Chapter Two

Wednesday in the Park with Neal

An hour after Peter's meeting with Hughes, Neal was sitting in the special FBI surveillance van. He was waiting for Peter to tell him it was time to meet with the sellers. Looking down, he slowly slid his fingers on the brim of his hat as he thought about what Peter said, Kramer still held a grudge against him. He would never forget that moment he was walking in the courtyard. Peter was going to give the committee his statement at his commutation hearing. Looking up he saw Peter talking to Kramer. Locking eyes with him, he saw a look that made Neal stop. Slowly Peter shook his head. It was then that Neal knew that his life changed, everything he worked for was gone. Peter was telling him to run.

For a split second he hesitated, he didn't want to run. This was his home now, he had close friends, a new life. But the look on Peter's face woke him from his reverie. In another split second he was gone, disappeared into the crowd. He thought his life in New York was over, but Peter changed that.

Helping Peter catch McLeish, he was granted his old deal. He thought that Kramer would now back off and leave him alone, but according to Sullivan, Kramer wasn't giving up on taking him to Washington. Sitting quietly in the van, he glanced at Sullivan. Since meeting him, Sullivan never took his eyes off him.

He was a tall man in his early sixties. Athletic build, his bright red hair was just at the stage of turning lighter. The first thing Neal noticed about him was that his language was as fiery as his hair. Other than saying Caffery in acknowledgment when introduced, he didn't say a word to him. But talking about him was another thing.

"All Kramer talks about is your damn asset," Sullivan told Peter. "His work for the agency has everyone talking at Washington."

Peter saw Neal slightly smile at the praise he was receiving. He was never going to hear the end of this.

Sullivan looked at Neal. He was blatantly ignoring him. He was going to change that. "Kramer also believes he'd be better off in Washington than being wasted here with you, Peter. But he would treat him like what he is, a career criminal. You gotta remember, no matter how good he is, he's a repeater, he's never going to change."

This got Neal's attention. Looking up, he saw Sullivan staring at him. Cruelly smiling, Sullivan said, "That Degas was the best he and I have ever seen. It's too bad that the painter is a punk ass conman."

If it was possible, Neal's smile grew wider. He wasn't going to let Sullivan get under his skin. Neal noticed Peter's reaction was the opposite. He saw him angrily glaring at Sullivan.

Peter fought to control his anger. Neal was his CI, he was his handler. It was his job to look after and protect him. And he took that job very seriously. But Neal was also his friend. Anyone criticizing or threatening Neal was personal. He was glad that Sullivan was only here temporarily. Any longer and it looked as if there may be a physical confrontation between them if he didn't stop looking at Neal like he was heading a lynch mob.

Peter checked his watch. "It's time, Neal. We'll have Jones and several agents posted in the area, but with the lunch crowd it's going to be hard keeping an eye on you. If the deal starts going south, I want you to get out of there as fast as you can."

The van sat near a park where a large art fair was being held. Tents were pitched all over the park. It was a Wednesday. The middle of the week, the middle of the day. A large lunch crowd was eager to see the fair and get back to work. Hundreds of people were walking past the colorful tents. It made it harder for the agents to keep an eye on who Neil was supposed to contact. Something they realized was in favor of the people Neal was meeting.

"Don't worry, Peter," Neal assured him. "Any sign of trouble I know how to disappear in a crowd. Besides, you can track me on my anklet."

It was one of the few times Neal was thankful for having the anklet. Standing up, he whispered to Peter, "Remember your promise."

Peter knew he meant helping him find Ellen's killer and searching for Sam. If they found good information about the case, he'd deliver on that promise.

Flipping his hat, Neal tapped it on his head. Cryptically grinning at Sullivan, Neal asked him, "Did Kramer get the birthday card I sent him?"

Sullivan's dark green eyes locked on Neal's. "It's pinned on our board, to keep a record of your handwriting."

Devilishly smiling, Neal tilted his hat. "Really?" As he left the van he said, "Tell Kramer if he ever arrests Da Vinci, he has a sample of his writing on the board."

Exiting the front of the van, Neal tucked his hands in his pockets and swaggered into the crowd. He was searching for a specific tent. He was told to look for one with a banner that read, 'Starry Night'. A painting by Vincent Van Gogh.

"Smart ass punk," Sullivan griped. "I'd like to wipe that God dammed smile off his face. He shouldn't be walking the streets, he should be rotting in jail just like the other low life's I've arrested."

"The CI program works, Sullivan," Peter said in defense of Neal. "Neal and I have the highest closure rate in the bureau. Can you say the same?"

"I know how he's been given special treatment, Peter. Giving him a two-mile radius. If he was my CI, I'd have a ball and chain attached to that anklet."

"Or in the hospital," Peter said. The last time he worked with Sullivan he had beaten a man so badly he ended up in the hospital. Sullivan stepped up to Peter, Peter stood up. They stood toe to toe, Peter didn't move an inch.

Diana reflexively reached for her gun, she could feel the anger pouring out of Sullivan. When Sullivan saw Peter wasn't backing off, he stepped back. "Kramer warned me about you. How you stick up for that lifer. Careful Peter, hang around scum long enough it rubs off on you." Sniffing he said, "It's stuffy in here, I'm going to stretch my legs."

Peter saw a familiar look on Sullivan, a predatory look. "Keep close, it should be going down fast. Let Neal do his job."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to touch your pet project. I'm just here as a damn observer." He angrily stormed out of the van.

Diana took her hand off her gun and breathed a sigh of relief. She saw a side of her boss she never saw before. He stood toe to toe with Sullivan and didn't back down.

"Sorry about that," Peter said, as he sat down. "He's always been colorful in his actions and words."

"You don't have to apologize, boss. That man's a dinosaur. I didn't like the way he was looking at Caffery. It was like a cat looking at a canary."

"Yeah," Peter said. "I got that too." That was the first time he stood up to Sullivan. A satisfied smile parted his lips. It felt good. "I hope Neal manages to get some information that will help us find these killers. That way Sullivan can leave, and we can get back to normal."

Diana quietly chuckled, "Neal getting you into trouble."

Peter stared at the monitors in front of them. Several of the agents had camera's that showed them walking through the crowd. He was still steaming inside. Sullivan always knew how to rile him up, but this time he stood up to him. Neal was his friend, and he would not allow Sullivan to lay a finger on him.

Once he left the van, Sullivan quickly made his way into the crowd.

As Neal searched for the tent, he couldn't help examining the many paintings displayed at the other tents. He checked each painting he passed by with a critical eye. When catching a fault, he would think of how he would fix it. He always loved to paint, it relaxed him when he felt stressed. After Ellen's death, he needed a way to relieve that stress. He thought perhaps this was a good time to start painting again. In the process he could possibly make some honest money.

Spying a bright blue tent, he moved towards it. He broadly smiled when he saw the words 'Starry Night' emblazoned across a banner. He stopped when he saw that the tent was enclosed. They were counting on an open tent. The agents watching him wouldn't be able to see what was happening inside the tent. He would be on his own. He told himself he would just have to be more cautious. Peter told him he needed a win here, he continued walking towards the tent.

A small sign at the entrance said, 'Sold Out'. Entering the tent, he saw several paintings sitting on easels. Coming to one painting in the center of the tent, his brows furrowed in confusion. This was not a painting done by hand, but a badly printed reproduction. Dollar store, bad.

"What the hell?" Neal whispered.

Hearing a noise, Neal saw a very large man with slicked black hair and dark eyes walking towards him from the back of the tent. He immediately recognized him. With the appearance of this man, he now knew who was behind the robberies.

Wearing his brightest smile, Neal said, "Nolano, it's been a long time."

The large man stopped next to several paintings sitting on wooden easels. He bowed his head in recognition. He said in a deep voice, "Yes it has, Mr. Caffrey."

Neal searched the tent. He saw white panted legs peeking out from under one of the reproductions sitting on an easel. "I'm surprised you're here, Albert," Neal loudly said. "Did you ask big sister's permission?"

"I don't need her permission, Neal," he heard Albert reply from behind the painting, irritation lacing his voice. "This was all my idea." A small man with a gold capped walking cane stepped out from behind the painting. Wispy blonde hair, his light grey eyes smiled at him as he whirled the cane. He stood next to the cheap painting. He was a man that Neal thought he had left in his past.

"I see that you have his cane," Neal said, his voice dropped to an angry growl.

Albert planted his cane on the floor. "Yes, I do. He wasn't using it."

"Albert, what's this all about? Why am I here?" Neal demanded.

Albert leaned on the cane. "You'll know soon enough. First, allow me to introduce you to a new friend of the family."

Neal smartly grinned, "Albert, you never had friends. Just people you pay to hang around you and make you feel important."

Hearing a tearing sound, Neal saw a large knife poking through the right side of the tent. The knifes blade easily moved to the ground. He saw a gloved hand go through the cut material and pull it back. Stepping through the opening Neal's smile faded as he saw Sullivan walk into the tent. Cruelly grinning, Sullivan pulled his gun out. "Where's your smart ass smile now, Caffery?" He slowly stepped up to Neal, blocking his exit.

At first, Neal thought he could talk his way out of the tent, but not anymore. Sullivan was here, and he was working for Albert.

"See, a new friend," Albert said, "The best money can buy."

Neal knew this mission had now gone south, FAST! He tried to think of why Sullivan would be working with Albert, then it dawned on him.

"Guess that retirement plan wasn't big enough," Neal said to Sullivan. "Knowing Albert's failed past deals, this may not be worth it for you." He tried to appeal to Sullivan's baser instinct, money.

Sullivan aimed his gun at Neal. "More than worth it, Caffrey."

"Sullivan," Albert furiously hissed. "Put that gun away. It's because you got trigger happy with that thing that we needed Neal."

As Sullivan holstered his gun, Neal's thoughts were going a mile a minute. He had to get out of here now, the longer he stayed the worst his chances grew for getting away.

"Neal," Albert purred. "You just need to be a good boy, and do as I say, and I assure you, you will not be harmed."

Putting on his most brash grin, Neal placed his hands in his pockets. "Albert, I've never listened to you before, what makes you think I'm going to start now?"

Albert tapped his cane on Neal's ankle. It slammed against his anklet. "It's not safe to be here too long. I'll explain everything later. For now, you're going on a little trip. It's too bad you won't be awake to enjoy it."

Neal gasped when Sullivan came up from behind him and quickly wrapped his arm around his neck. As Neal gripped Sullivan's arm, he saw Nolano pull out a syringe. Pulling the cap off the needle, he walked towards Neal.

"Do not fight back, Mr. Caffery," Nolano gently said. "We do not want to hurt you."

"Now why don't I…believe that?" Neal gasped. He wrestled with Sullivan. He pulled them towards an easel holding a large painting. Bumping into it several easels with paintings crashed into Nolano, knocking him down. Neal jerked his head back, slamming hard it into Sullivan's face. Sullivan immediately released his hold on him.

"Fucking bastard!" Sullivan cried out, as he clutched his face. He roared in pain and stumbled back.

Spinning around Neal sprinted to the entrance of the tent. He gasped as something tripped him. Albert threw his cane at Neal, tangling in his legs he stumbled and fell. As he fell on the ground, Neal took his hat off and threw it through the opening in the tent. He hoped Jones would see it. Rolling on his back, Neal saw the damage he had done to Sullivan. His nose was bloody. Getting up, Nolano still held the syringe in his hand.

"Quickly," Albert frantically screamed. He snatched up his cane. "Use that thing before he alerts his friends,"

"JONES!" Neal shouted, as he started standing up. In a flash Sullivan jumped on him.

"Shut up," Sullivan growled, he clamped his hand over his mouth. He fought to hold onto a struggling Neal. Nolano bent down, Neal groaned as the needle bit into his shoulder. Immediately he felt his face flush cold, his vision grew cloudy. His arms fell limply at his side. Nolano took Neal from Sullivan. Sullivan moved to Neal's ankle. The last thing Neal saw was Sullivan pull out his knife from a sheath and cut his anklet off. His vision growing dark, he fell limp in Nolano's arms.

Throwing the cut anklet to the side, Sullivan helped Nolano lift Neal up. They placed his arms on their shoulders.

"Hurry," Sullivan hissed. He wiped the blood on his lip with his sleeve. "We need to get him out of here before the Marshal's alert Burke. I'll keep in touch with you on what they're doing, now let's go."

Albert pulled back the opening Sullivan made in the side of the tent. Standing inside the other tent, he held it open. "This way, the cars on the other side of the tent."

They quickly carried Neal through the opening.