Everything Old is new Again
Chapter Eight
That's what Friends are for
After Mozzie left the coffee shop, Peter felt he needed to tell Diana and Jones something before they moved on. "Mozzie is not the only one in danger. I've put my career on the line before for Neal. That was my choice. But I just want to say, if you have any doubts that Neal was not taken and is on the run, then I won't force you to…"
Jones held up his hand. "Peter, you don't have to say it." He looked at Diana. "I'm just speaking for myself here, but I admit, when you first brought Caffrey to the agency, I was hesitant to work with him. I saw a convicted felon that was going to be working by my side. In the past few years that I've worked with him, I saw him put his life on the line. He's helped us close cases that would have been unclosable if not for him." Leaning forward he whispered, "When we find him, don't tell him I said that, I'll never hear the end of it."
Sitting back, he continued. "Sure, he's also a major pain in the ass, but I know if it was me that was kidnapped, he wouldn't hesitate to do whatever it took to find me. Still not inviting him to any of my poker games, but yes, I am onboard with whatever we have to do to find him."
Peter and Jones looked at Diana. She took in a deep breath. "Like Jones, I did have reservations working with him. I was just waiting for him to make a wrong move so I could shoot him…somewhere it hurts. He's shown us again and again why he was sent to prison. But I also saw the reason why you wanted to take a chance with him, Peter. He's never hesitated going into dangerous situations to help us solve a case. Plus, I kinda got used to him being in the office. Nobody can get you riled up like Caffrey does. So yes, I'll risk incurring the wrath of Kramer just to see the look on his face when he finds out that Neal did not run. You're stuck with us, Boss."
Peter was moved. They were willing to risk their careers, not because of their loyalty to him, but to help find Neal. "Thank you, I couldn't wish for a better team."
Looking at the photo of the painting and the email he suddenly had a feeling that there was something there that could help them find Neal. Diana and Jones had seen that look on Peter before, he was onto something. Seconds later, they saw a familiar grin slowly grow wider.
"Peter, do you have something?" Diana asked him.
He held the two papers up. "I think I know why Neal was taken. It's staring right at us. Mozzie said that about a year ago Neal told him that Peintre died. Diana, you studied Peintre, how much money do you think he made from selling his forged paintings?"
Diana shook her head, "Hard to tell. We do know that he only sold to private investors. If I were to guess, it had to be in the millions."
"Let's just say, he brought in a lot of money for his paintings," Peter acknowledged. "I think that the robberies may have started because of Peintre dying. When he passed away the money he made from his paintings died with him. A wife, family member or partner I'm not sure who, but I think they're the ones that started the art gallery thefts. With your cash cow dead, three months is enough time to make one desperate enough to find another way of making more money."
"Three from twelve months is nine. That's about the same time Sullivan started taking his unused vacation days," Jones offered.
"Yes," Peter said. "That would connect him to the robberies."
"They needed someone that was knowledgeable in art thefts," Diana said. "He wasn't happy about retiring, maybe he was fishing and got a nibble?"
"That or something else," Peter said, "Either way, I know that he had to have been a part of the robberies, his ego is too big to just stand by. It worked for the first six, but something happened on the seventh robbery. Maybe Sullivan's anger issues got in the way? Once the robberies got out of hand, they were forced to stop them. That must have been when they thought about using Neal. It was the logical thing to do. He was taught by Peintre. His paintings would be in the same league."
"If it's not broke, why fix it?" Jones said.
"Exactly!" Peter excitedly proclaimed. He could feel that they were moving on the right track. "Like Mozzie said, Neal would never do the paintings willingly. That's why they had to take him. They needed him to be able to resume Peintre's business of selling forged paintings. They made him their new cash cow."
"Neal's painting," Diana said in revelation. She pointed to the printed photo. "They had to have an example to show potential clients that their new painter's skill is up to par with the old Peintre. Sullivan must have been the one that stole the painting from the Washington archives. He'd have no problem getting inside and walking out with a painting. To the guards, he was just doing his job."
Peter shook his head, "This all sounds good, but unfortunately we have one problem. We still need hard evidence to prove it. Right now, it's only conjecture."
Jones phone buzzed. Checking it, he said, "Just got a text. The DNA results will be ready tomorrow afternoon."
"Great," Peter said. "There's a good start, it's going to put Sullivan inside that tent. Let's get back to the office. Diana, I want you to get as much information as you can about Peintre. Did he have a wife, family, a partner, anything that you can find. Jones, get in touch with WITSEC. Have them send us a list of what towns Neal lived in while he was in the program. I'll see if I can find out where Agent Sullivan has been going on his vacation days."
Entering the office, they quickly went to their desks. Standing in his office, Peter searched around the bureau. He saw Hughes sitting in his office, Kramer was in the meeting room. What he didn't see was Sullivan. Sitting at his desk, he lifted his phone. He was about to call a friend and ask what he knew about Sullivan's vacations when Jones rushed into his office.
"We got a problem," Jones panted.
"What's wrong?" What they didn't need now was another problem.
Jones threw Neal's hat on his desk. Peter could clearly see a small hole in the back of the hat. "What's that doing here?"
"While we were meeting Mozzie, Andersen said a small box was delivered addressed to me. He signed for it and put it on my desk. He told me when he was going to get some coffee, he saw Sullivan standing by my desk. When he came back, he saw the box open, Neal's hat in the box and Sullivan gone."
"Damn it!" Peter slammed the phone on its cradle. "If he saw the hole in the hat, he knows that a sample was taken. Finding his blood on Neal's hat would put him behind Neal and inside the tent. That's it, he's gone, he's in the wind."
"What are we going to do?" Jones asked him.
Peter grimly looked at the meeting room. He saw Kramer reading files. "I hate to say this, but I think I'm going to have to tell Kramer everything we know so far."
"Boss, are you sure about this? You know what he thinks about Neal. Would he believe it?"
Peter realized that there was one man that knew Sullivan better than anyone here, that was Kramer. The only way they were going to find him was with Kramer's help. "I'll have to chance it, tell Diana what happened. I hope he gets off his I-hate-Caffrey campaign long enough to listen to what I have to say."
"Good luck with that," Jones said.
As Jones left Peter's office, Peter clutched the email Mozzie gave him. Picking Neal's hat up, he slowly walked to the meeting room. Kramer was sitting in front of Neal's painting reading a file. Hearing someone step into the room, he saw Peter standing in the doorway. He recognized the look on his face, he'd seen it many times before.
"What's wrong, Pete?" Kramer asked.
Closing the door to the meeting room, Peter said, "Phillip, we need to talk."
Neal was working hard on making the painting as perfect as possible. For his first painting, he didn't want any room for criticism from Albert or Lilith. His friend's lives may depend on it. He struggled on getting the strokes exactly right.
Hearing a cleared throat, he turned and saw Nolano standing behind him holding a tray. On the tray was a plate with a steak, salad and baked potato. He had turned down lunch. Looking at his watch, it read Five Thirty, Nolano was carrying his dinner.
"I believe I found your lost appetite, Mr. Caffrey." Nolano placed the tray on a small desk. "You have not eaten anything since you arrived. Please, you must eat something."
Honestly, he really wasn't hungry. He looked at the canvas. He had already sketched the painting. He managed to get most of the background painted and was starting to work on the sisters. He looked again at Nolano.
"Please, Mr. Caffrey. Do not do this to yourself." Nolano was getting concerned. He realized since he was brought into the house Neal had not eaten a thing. He could already see a paleness in his face.
Neal wasn't planning on staying here long. He was beginning to feel lightheaded, but he wasn't going to let Nolano know that.
"Maybe a bite," Neal relinquished. "Then I have to get back to work."
Nolano moved a chair to the table. Sitting down Neal was surprised to see a goblet half filled with wine. Picking up the goblet, he sniffed the wine. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Petrus Pomerol?"
"Yes, it was Le Peintre's favorite. I managed to hide a few bottles from Albert and Lilith after he passed away."
Neal raised his glass in salute. "To your hiding place." Taking a sip of wine, he closed his eyes in ecstasy. "Wonderful," he sighed.
"See, it is not so bad here, is it Mr. Caffrey?"
Neal rolled the goblet stem in his fingers. He stared at the wine in the glass. "No, Nolano, it's worse. My friend's lives are in danger because of me. The only way I can protect them is to become the new Peintre. I'm a prisoner here. That means I'll never see my friends again," he sadly said.
Nolano's eyes suspiciously narrowed, "Are you playing me as you do Albert and Lilith?"
Neal looked up at Nolano. Nolano was surprised to see his eyes glisten with unshed tears. "I'm not the same person I was when I left. I've changed, Nolano. It's because of Peter Burke. The FBI agent that took a chance with me. He told me he saw something good in me. I lost count of how many times he's put his career on the line because of something that I did. He even took a chance going to an island to tell me a dangerous bounty hunter was coming for me. He's the only man in my life that I truly trust."
Taking another sip, he said, "I've made friends, close friends. I have a place that I can call home. I finally have people in my life that I trust, and they trust me. I, I lost someone recently that was close to me. Peter helped me get through it. We were working on finding her killer. But now?" Neal looked at the painting. "That's been taken from me. No, I'm not playing you. Didn't you hear, I'm no longer Neal Caffrey. I am Le Maitre Peintre."
Placing the goblet on the table, Neal stood up. "And he needs to finish a painting. Sorry, it seems my appetite is still lost." He slowly returned to the easel and resumed painting.
Nolano was hopeful that Neal would accept being in the house. Now he could see that he was wrong. That was never going to happen. Neal changed from the last time he saw him. He was no longer the young angry boy that they found on the streets of Chicago. He had grown up to be a man that valued the life of his friends. As Neal continued working on the painting, Nolano silently took the tray from the desk but he made sure to keep the goblet of wine on the table.
