Hey guys and thank you so much Dobby, I really appreciate your comments! :) I'll upload a very short one today, it is more a filler than a chapter I'd say. The next one will be very long and I don't want to divide it, so this is sort of the prologue for the next chapter. Thanks for reading!
Neal spent the rest of the night restless, even though he felt exhausted. He couldn't tell what he intended with his call, he just had to talk. The spoken words touched and confused him somehow. He felt upset afterwards, as if he had lost something valuable he couldn't ever get back. He clenched his fist tightly. The hurt on his palms were distracting him a little. His whole body felt tense and he desperately wished he could just rest, only for an hour, but knew he couldn't.
When he heard Mozzie rumbling in his room, he wiped away his tears and put his friend's untraceable mobile back where it belonged. He assumed that the slightly paranoid man wouldn't be pleased to find out what he did.
"Morning mate. Feeling better?", Mozzie yawned.
Neal managed a little smile. "Sure, I'm fine." His friend threw him a glance, a little doubtful, but didn't say anything.
After that, they spent almost the whole day in strained silence, just changing the most necessary words. Neal felt nervous and anxious but tried to suppress his concerns as best as he could. When they were finally on their way to the meeting point, he felt almost relieved. The thoughts of his conversation with Peter accompanied him and he felt somehow guilty, as if this was something personal between the two of them. But he knew, he had to do it. It wasn't important whether he killed his father or not. He needed the money to start all over again, in any case and couldn't considerate his stupid emotions.
When they reached the venue in an old storehouse, Keller greeted them with his greasy smile. He was flanked by two of his bodyguards, both looking like muscle-bound bulldogs.
"Ahh, look who's there. I wasn't sure if you were really coming. Welcome!".
Neal felt disgusted and ashamed. Keller wasn't the kind of guy with whom he, in contrast to his father, liked to do his business, but he had the money.
"I stand by my word. You know that, Keller." He couldn't hide his repugnance but sounded a lot more confident then he felt right now.
"Behave yourself, kid. If you weren't such a fuckin baby genius in your profession, you'd make acquaintance with my little friend here, you know. But unfortunately, I really need your expertise." He gently touched his weapon while speaking.
Mozzie whispered: "Try to calm down, Neal. It's just one job. You won't see him again after we did this." Neal's hands trembled, but he managed not to answer. Two other men arrived and completed the group. They talked it through one last time and unlike Neal, Keller appeared to be satisfied. After that they entered an inconspicuous black van and headed towards the MET.
When Peter arrived home after his conversation with the young felon, he felt very worried and helpless. The boy obviously needed help, but he couldn't track his phone and had no clue were to find him, so he reluctantly left his working place.
He entered his his cosy home and his dog Satchmo welcomed him with a wet doggy kiss and a wild wagging tale. "Good boy! But please don't wake up El, be quiet.", he whispered and petted the dogs soft fur.
"No need to whisper, Peter. I'm awake!", his wife laughed, coming out of the living-room.
He looked at her, surprised. "But why, El? It's after midnight."
"I knew you've had a busy day and just wanted to see and comfort you a little after that.", she said lovingly and placed a kiss on his forehead.
"Oh El, I really don't deserve you.", Peter hugged her full of affection. They sat down on the sofa and Peter told her about the phone call he received.
"He's only 14, El. A kid. And he sounded so desperate and all alone and is obviously in the middle of something awful bad. I wish I could help him I really do. If he's the forger's assistant, this could ruin his future. Or even worse, maybe he'll have no future at all."
His wife stroked his arm. "Honey, you'll maybe get the chance to help him one day, we'll see. You did your best and I'm sure that he noticed. He'll not fell all alone after that. Please try to relax, there's nothing more you could do right now." Peter nodded, still not convinced.
When he arrived at work after a restless night, Jones walked straight in his office.
"Hey Boss. I called the kid's social worker. She remembered his case, even though she barely knew the child. The boy was caught pickpocketing. He had many bruises and scars on him and was half starved. He refused to talk, but they managed to find out his and his father's name after all but couldn't find him or any other relative. She said she felt very sorry for him. He was brought into foster care, but soon after that disappeared. She told me one thing that could be interesting. When he left his foster family, they found some very good paintings and sketches in his room. The social worker said that she kept them and that she always has to think of the boy with the deep, sad looking blue eyes while admiring the paintings."
Peter felt a little chill down his spine and swallowed hard. He advised the young agent to immediately get these paintings. When they arrived, he put them on his desk and couldn't believe his own eyes. They were brilliant, absolutely beautiful and looked painfully well-known.
Some of them he couldn't identify, but he definitely had almost perfect replicas of Van Goghs sunflowers and Degas dancing class in front of him. He sat down, in shock and disbelief.
Could it really be that this innocent looking, abused boy wasn't the assistant, but the forger and criminal mastermind himself?
