Everything Old is new Again

Chapter Three

Run or not to run, that is the question

Peter stared at the monitors as he studied the crowd moving past his agents. He was looking for any sign of trouble, suddenly he heard Jones on his walkie talkie. "Boss, there's a problem."

"What kind of problem?" Peter asked Jones.

"We found the tent, but it's enclosed. We won't be able to see what's happening inside. Neal will be on his own."

"He's been in worse situations. Just stay close to both exists, but not to close. We don't want to scare them off," Peter told Jones.

"Already done, sir. Neal is here." Jones saw Neal stop in front of the tent. By the look on his face, he could see that Neal realized that his backup wouldn't be able to see what was happening inside the tent. After several seconds, Neal continued walking and entered the tent. "He's going inside," Jones told Peter.

"Keep me posted," Peter told him.

The monitors showed the front and back of the tent. So far other than Neal entering the tent, he saw no sign of the buyers. He guessed that they must already be inside. Diana closely watched two monitors, each one was showing a different view of the tent.

"Come on Neal, make the deal or get out of there," Peter softly said. The minutes passed by slowly. The crowd around the tent was starting to grow heavy. It was becoming increasingly difficult for his agents to keep an eye on the tent without getting closer. Suddenly Peter heard a call alert on his phone. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he saw that it was Hughes.

"Peter," Hughes growled. "What the hell is happening out there? We just received an alert that Caffery's anklet had been cut."

"What?" he gasped, as he stood up. "That's not possible, sir."

"I'm looking right at it!" Hughes said.

"I'm checking it now, sir." Closing the call Peter couldn't believe what he heard. "Damn it, Neal, I can't believe you would do that."

"What's wrong, sir?" Diana asked.

Peter shouted into his walkie talkie, "Jones, Neal's anklet was cut. Something's gone wrong. Get in there, NOW!"

Leaving the van with Diana, they ran into the park. Peter was furious and confused. Neal couldn't have cut his anklet. Not after all that he went through to get him off that island and back in the good graces of White collar.

"Boss," Peter heard Jones say on his walkie talkie. "You'd better get over here, fast. We're close to a fountain."

Peter searched for a fountain. Even with his height, it was hard for him to see over the crowd. People shoved past him as they were anxious to get back to work.

Diana started hopping, landing she pointed to her right and said, "It's over there." Peter could just make out a fountain in the distance. The crowd was so heavy they needed to pull out their badges. Raising them they shouted FBI as they pushed their way through the crowd.

They finally reached a bright blue tent that sat in front of a fountain. A large banner read, 'Starry Night'. Several agents surrounded the tent. Entering it, Peter searched the tent. He saw Jones and several agents inside, but no Neal.

"Where's Neal?" Peter said. Paintings and easels were strewn on the ground. Jones held two familiar objects in his hands.

One was Neal's anklet, it was clearly cut. The other object sent a chill through Peter. Jones handed it to him. "I found it just outside the tent. Boss, I'm sorry, the crowd was packed, I never saw it thrown out. If I did, I would have rushed inside." Peter held Neal's fedora hat. Everyone knew how much Neal treasured the hat, it was Byron's, June's husband. The only reason why Neal would throw his hat outside of the tent, was to give his agents a sign that something was wrong.

Peter examined the paintings on their easels. Immediately he realized that something was not right. "These aren't paintings. They're cheap lithographs." Peter didn't know what to think. Was it a deal gone wrong, or did Neal set this up to get away?

"That's not all," Jones said. "This is why we didn't see anyone leave the tent." Jones walked to the side of the tent. Grabbing it he pulled open a large slash in the tent's material. The opening led to an adjacent tent.

"This is why we didn't see them leave. Whoever set this up knew we'd be watching. There's a small street on the other side of the second tent used by the vendors. If they had a car waiting for them, they're long gone."

"I've seen enough, lock it down," Peter shouted as he gave Diana, Neal's hat. "Interview everyone in the area. Someone had to have seen something." Peter looked around. "I don't know what happened here, but I want answers. And can someone please tell me where the hell Sullivan is?"

Peter stormed out of the tent. Jones and Diana followed him. Leaving the dark tent, in the sunlight Diana noticed something familiar on the back of Neal's fedora. As she was about to examine it, she saw Sullivan running towards them. He was holding a handkerchief to his nose. She saw blood on the handkerchief and his sleeve.

"What happened to you?" Peter asked. Standing behind Peter, Diana slowly moved Neal's hat behind her back.

"Some idiot was arguing with his girlfriend. I tried to break them up and got this!" Sullivan showed Peter a swollen bloody nose. Pinching his nose with his handkerchief, he looked around. "Where's Caffery? Did he find out who was selling the paintings? Was any of them a stolen painting?"

Peter was not happy telling Sullivan what happened. He was Kramer's eyes and ears, but he knew he would find out, eventually. He just hated being the one to tell him first. "The deal never happened. The place is filled with cheap reproductions. When we got here, the tent was empty. We found a cut in the side that led to the tent next to it. We're not sure what happened in there, but uh, Neal's gone."

"His anklet?" Sullivan asked. "Can you track him?"

Jones held up the cut anklet. "God dammit, Burke," Sullivan angrily spit out. "Kramer told me to keep a close eye on him. I knew I should have followed him. He fooled you, that damn punk fooled us all. Your CI planned the whole thing. Kramer warned me. He knew that son of a bitch would use you to run."

"We don't know for sure that's what happened in there," Burke said in defense. "We're still processing the tents."

"This is all on you, Peter!" Sullivan furiously shouted. "I'm retiring soon, I'm not letting this get on my record. You're the Caffery whisperer, find the bastard. But I warn you, if I find him first, he's going to know what it's like to be arrested by Rory Sullivan."

"That is not going to happen," Peter said. "Because I'm going to find him first and show you that Kramer's wrong."

"Dream on, Peter." Sullivan leaned forward and took in a deep breath. "I can smell the scum on you already." He angrily stormed off.

Jones was really starting to hate Sullivan. With such a volatile tempter, he couldn't imagine how he managed to be a Federal Agent for so long. "What are we going to do, Boss?"

Taking in a calming breath, Peter said, "We do our job. We find Neal."

Moving the hat from behind her back, Diana took a closer look. She confirmed her suspicions. "Boss," she said. "I think something happened in there. Something bad, look at this." She handed Neal's hat to Peter. She pointed at a wet spot on the back of the hat. He immediately knew what it was.

"I can't believe a man so near to retirement would try to break up a fight," Diana said. "Especially that man."

"I agree," Peter said. "Until we know for sure, don't tell anyone in the bureau what we found, not even Hughes. We can't let Sullivan get wind of this, for now it stays with the three of us. Jones, I want you to have this tested." He showed Jones a wet spot on the hat. Jones immediately recognized that the spot could be blood.

"Sullivan?" Jones whispered. The blood on the back of the hat had to have come from Neal head butting someone behind him. And Jones knew that someone would have received a bloody nose. "Boss, what the hell is going on?"

"Not sure," Peter said. "But I know that Neal wouldn't go without getting answers about Ellen. I don't know what happened to him, but I'm betting that Sullivan does." Peter looked down at the hat. "Neal left us a clue to help us find him." He handed the hat to Jones. "Find out who's DNA is on this hat. Discreet, got it? An offsite, nothing connected to the government."

Jones nodded his head. "I have just the place, boss."

"Diana, I want you to get in touch with some of your friends in Washington. See if you can find out just how happy Sullivan was about his forced retirement."

"On it, boss."

Peter stared at the retreating Sullivan, "Rory Sullivan, what the hell did you do?"

Neal was slowly starting to wake up, the first thing he tried to do was open his eyes. They felt as if they were glued shut. After several attempts, he managed to open them. He saw an ornate ceiling above him. He found himself laying on an extremely comfortable bed. Feeling chilled, he realized that his shirt was unbuttoned. The last thing he remembered was Sullivan cutting off his anklet.

"Sullivan," he whispered with anger lacing his voice. The surprise that he felt when he saw him step into the tent was not that he was working for Albert. He was surprised that after all his trash talk about him, that he turned out to be a dirty agent.

Blinking his eyes, he tried to get an idea of where he was. Glancing around, he immediately recognized the room. A door was open to his left that led to a bathroom. To the right of the door was a tiger maple armoire. Across from the foot of the bed was a mirrored dresser. A sturdy wooden door stood to the left of the dresser. He couldn't believe it, he was in his old bedroom in Peintre's home. This was the last place he expected to wake up in. Taking in a deep breath, he struggled to sit up.

His spinning head told him otherwise. It fell back on the soft pillow. He moved his back as he felt a soreness between his shoulder blades. Hearing a door open, he glanced at the foot of the bed. He saw Nolano walking into the room.

Closing the door, Nolano stepped up to the foot of the bed, he bowed his head. "I am sorry, Mr. Caffery. I pray that you will forgive me for what I have done."

Neal was livid. He was back in Peintre's home, and Nolano helped bring him here. A man he thought was a friend. All he could think of saying was, "Why?"

"I know you must be angry with me for bringing you back to this house, but believe me when I say, I had no other choice. Albert and the mistress had made up their minds to bring you here. With or without my help. I choose to help so that no harm would come to you." He bowed his head deeper, "I am truly sorry."

Neal could see that Nolano was remorseful. His time here he was a good friend. But he put him in a dangerous situation. When in a dangerous situation, he had one rule, make friends. Half grinning, he said, "Apology accepted, Nolano.

Nolano raised his head, "Thank you, Mr. Caffery."

Neal took in a deep breath, "Is she here?"

"Since her father's death, she has not left," Nolano replied.

"I see you've kept my old room the way I left it."

Nolano nodded his head, "He never gave up that you would return." He looked at Neal with concern, "How do you feel?"

Neal rubbed his forehead, he tiredly sighed. "Sedatives and I are not friends." Looking at Nolano he said, "I need to shake this off." He tried to sit up again on the right side of his bed. This time Nolano helped him. "Thank you," Neal gently said. He slowly began buttoning his shirt. "It's been a long time since I last saw you. Have you learned how to smile yet?"

Frowning, Nolano stepped back. Crossing his hands in front, he silently waited for Neal to make the next move.

"I'll take that as a no," Neal softly mumbled. Taking in deep breaths, he waited for his head to stop spinning. "So," Neal said, "Why am I here?"

"The mistress will explain when you see her tonight," Nolano said.

Neal leaned forward. He held his head in his hands. He felt as if he stepped off a merry-go-round, that was spinning a thousand miles an hour. "What husband is Lilith presently at right now?"

Nolano quietly said, "She is currently between husband eight and nine."

Neal slowly lifted his head and frowned. "Actually, I expected it to be higher." Feeling a cool breeze, he looked ahead at the lone window in the room. The window was open, he was surprised to see bars blocking his way of any chance of escape. "Are those bars for me? Nolano, you shouldn't have."

"Your skills for escaping are well known, Mr. Caffery. Precautions have been made. The bars are there for your own protection." Nolano pointed to his armoire. "You'll find your old dress suits inside. She expects to see you dressed for dinner in an hour. I will bring you there." Nolano cupped his hands in front and stared at Neal.

Now Neal was really getting angry. He was not going to be treated like her pet monkey. "You can tell her…"

Nolano calmly stated, "The mistress said to tell you that you will either wear one of two suits, one in the closet or your birthday. Either one would make her happy."

"And if I choose neither one?"

Nolano released a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, Mr. Caffery. I know you are not happy to be here."

"That's an understatement," Neal said. He was more than not happy, he was furious. But he needed to control his emotions. The only way he was going to get any answers was to play the defeated man until he could assess his situation better and come up with a way of getting out of here.

"Mr. Caffery, you need to know that the mansion is surrounded by guards with guns. There is no chance of you escaping. Please cooperate, no one here want's you hurt. The guards have been given explicit instructions that you are not to be gravely harmed. But I assure you, they will do all that is in their power to prevent you from escaping. I promise that you will be receiving answers to your questions at dinner tonight."

At least he knew they didn't want to hurt him, gravely. That was something. But he was still being held against his will. For now, he would play their game. "Dress suit it is," Neal said with a happy grin. He had many smiles tucked away. He would use them all if it helped him escape from his kidnappers.

Seeing a familiar smile, Nolano was satisfied that Neal would cooperate. He stood by the foot of the bed. "All your questions will be answered at dinner tonight."

"At dinner tonight," Neal said at the same time. "So you've said." He noticed that Nolano wasn't leaving. "You're not here as a messenger boy, are you?"

"No," Nolano briskly replied.

"A bodyguard, or just a guard?"

"I am here to make sure you stay, here. I am to prevent you from getting into trouble."

"Might as well tell me to stop breathing," Neal mumbled. He took in deep breaths, as he tried to chase away his lightheadedness. Neal raised his hand, "Do I have your permission to go to the window? I need to clear my head of whatever you shot me with."

Nolano nodded his blessing. Neal had an idea of why he was here. He would find out if he was right during dinner, tonight. He stood up and slowly walked to the window. Leaning on the windowsill he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of fresh air. Opening his eyes, he looked out. He saw the driveway that led to the front door just under his window. Two men was standing guard on the driveway. Spying Neal looking out his window, one of the men smiled at him. Opening his coat, he showed him his handgun sitting in a holster. Neal had to admit, escaping was going to be a lot trickier with armed guards around the house. But not impossible.

Taking in a breath of fresh air, he recalled the first time he met Le Peintre.