Everything old is new Again
By Ldynwaitin
Chapter Thirteen
A color by any other name is a Pigment
Peter angrily slammed the handset on his desk phone. It was another dead end. It's been three days since Neal was taken and he was still getting no closer to finding him. Standing up he looked outside his office window. It was Saturday night. With the sun touching the horizon, the sky was darkening. He suddenly realized just how late it was, his watch read Seven twenty-three. He quickly called home.
"Hi, Hon," he softly said. She was going to kill him.
"Hi, Hon," Elizabeth replied. She immediately knew why he was calling her. "I'm guessing you're going to be late again."
"Yeah, I didn't realize the time."
"Anything new on Neal?" She was starting to get concerned. She'd grown to think of him the same as Peter, as a close friend. She was afraid that he may be hurt, or worse.
Peter let out a long breath. "Nope, every lead is a dead end. El, it's like the earth just swallowed him up."
Elizabeth could hear the despair in her husband's voice. "Is this the man that found and brought in Neal three times talking?" She was Peter's cheerleader; she knew how to bring his hopes up.
Peter chuckled, "Actually, I believe it's four times."
"Neal said when you caught him at the Dutchman's printing warehouse, that didn't count."
Peter told her everything that happened at work, and with Neal. She knew as much about him as he did. "El, how many times have I told you that I'm the luckiest man in the world? I'm married to the most wonderful, understanding woman."
"I lost count, but I never tire of hearing it."
They both chuckled. "I'm not sure when I'll be home. You can give my dinner to Satchmo."
Elizabeth was watching Satchmo enjoying Peter's meal. "Given and being eaten as we speak."
"El, I'm sorry for all this, but I'm not giving up trying to find him."
"And I don't expect you too. I totally understand. I wish there was something I could do to help you."
"Just being there when I come home is all the help I need. I'll talk to you later, love you."
Elizabeth kissed into the phone, "Love you to, babe. See you tonight."
Ending the call, Peter stared out into the night. He could see lights on several buildings starting to turn on. He wasn't the only one working late tonight.
He glanced at the DNA results for the blood on Neal's hat. It came in yesterday afternoon. The results were exactly what he expected, a perfect match for Agent Rory Sullivan. When he found out, it was a hard pill for Kramer to swallow. He was practically barking at anyone near him. Peter made sure to stay out of his way.
With the DNA results in, both teams now began working into overdrive searching for any trace of Sullivan and Neal.
The day after he left, they found Sullivan's car parked in a residential area. No man fitting the description of Rory rented a car the day he disappeared. The last phone call he made was to Kramer the morning Peter met with Mozzie. He was another man that the Earth swallowed.
Peter looked out into the office. Even though it was the weekend, he saw his team still working hard on finding Neal.
When he first brought Neal into the office, most of them stayed away from him. They all knew his background and was cautious of even coming near him. They wanted nothing to do with a convicted conman. But Neal changed them. It didn't take long for the agents to see what he saw, that Neal was smart, funny, and had a good heart. His special skills helped them quickly solve many cases. He risked his life multiple times to close a case. He earned his right to be a part of his team.
Peter stepped out of his office and slowly walked to the meeting room. Neal's painting was still sitting on its easel. Kramer was sitting at the end of the long table. Boxes filled with case files Kramer accumulated searching for Peintre arrived from Washington yesterday. With the arrival of the boxes, Kramer's dark mood calmed down. He kept himself occupied searching for a lead. Multiple files were spread out on the table. Kramer and Diana had been looking at them all day. Diana was at her desk going over some of the files.
"Any luck?" Peter asked Kramer. He was failing on his end, he hoped Kramer would be able to find something to help them locate where Neal was taken.
Kramer grimly shook his head. "Still can't believe it, Peter. Sullivan flipping. Even with his DNA on Caffrey's hat, I keep asking myself if it could be wrong."
"I'm sorry, Phillip. The DNA results tells us it was his blood, but unfortunately it can't tell us where he is."
"Wherever he is, I'm sure he's with Caffrey now."
"Wherever Neal was taken," Peter added.
"Or, not," Kramer said, as he threw a file on the table. He wearily pinched his nose. "Peter, I'm tired of arguing. We have seven art gallery robberies, four people dead, and two men missing. The only possible clue to find them is an anonymous email with a photo of Caffrey's painting. Someone is advertising that they are resuming Le Peintre's business. I've gone through half the files and realize that I'm still in the same place I was ten years ago. The man was a ghost, Peter."
Kramer looked at Neal's painting and happily smiled. "The girl with the Pearl Earring. She was always one of my favorites. Peintre was the best art forger I ever saw. That was until I saw Caffrey's paintings."
"Yes," Peter agreed. "She is beautiful." He walked up to the painting and sat in front of it. It was a painting of a young girl wearing what looked like a turban. Her head was turned to look sideways. He chuckled when he saw that Jones was right, she didn't have any eyebrows. He recalled the last time Neal was in this room. He was thrilled to be able to speak about a subject that he held dear. He tried to remember what Neal had said about the painting.
"Neal said this was Johannes Vermeer's most famous painting."
Kramer turned and looked at the painting. "Yes, it was, he painted it in 1665."
"That's what Neal said. He mentioned that Vermeer used very expensive pigments in his paintings."
As Peter stared at the painting, he got a chill. That usually meant he was on to something important. He ran over in his mind what Neal said about the painting. "What am I missing? There's something there."
"Hmm?" Kramer asked, as he began reading one of his files. "What are you missing, Petey?"
Suddenly Peter bolted up. He pointed at the painting. "Neal, damn it, even though you're not here, you're still helping me."
"What are you talking about?" Kramer asked him.
"Phillip listen, we think Neal was taken to restart Peintre's business of creating masterpieces, right?"
"Yes, that's your theory," Kramer said. "What are you getting at?"
"Neal said that Vermeer used the most expensive pigments for his paintings. Where did he get the pigments?"
"Most of the old masters used to make their own," Kramer explained.
"That was then, but what about now, Phillip? Where do painters get their pigments from now? Where did Peintre get his pigments? If someone is forcing Neal to create old master's paintings, they'll need to buy them, right?"
The light now lit in Kramer's head. "Pete, you're right. The pigments he would need for the paintings, they would have to be ordered from a specialty house. Why didn't I see that before?"
Peter quickly walked towards the door. "Because you were thinking like an agent. You didn't have a CI like Neal who thinks like a painter," Peter proudly declared. He stood in the doorway and searched for Jones and Diana. Finding them, he signaled them to come to the meeting room.
Seeing a determined look on their bosses face they immediately knew he found something. They ran up the stairs to the meeting room.
"I may have something to help us find Neal," Peter told them. "Remember when Neal was talking about the Vermeer?"
"To be honest, not really," Jones said. "When he starts talking, I think about the scores of last night's game."
"Well, I do," Peter said. "He talked about how old masters would mix their own pigments." Peter anxiously pointed to the painting. "That's how we're going to find where he was taken. I need you to check places that sell pigments for painters. Art, Craft stores, warehouses, everywhere. We need to look for not just any pigment, they have to be the ones that would be used to paint old master's paintings."
"This is a great start, Peter," Kramer said. "But it's late and tomorrow is Sunday. We can get in touch with places that sell pigments Monday. They won't be open until then."
"Do we search local or worldwide?" Diana asked.
"Both," Kramer said. "I'm sure they'll be using the same place that Peintre used. He sent paintings all over the world. Monday, check both."
"I will," Diana said. She and Jones rushed out of the room.
A satisfied smile grew on Peter's face. For the first time since Neal was missing, he felt that they were finally getting closer to finding him. He saw Kramer smiling too. "Now you know why I wanted to keep you in Washington, Peter. You're the best."
"I'm the best because I have the best working for me," Peter countered. "I never would have figured it out if it wasn't for Neal."
Kramer tapped the folder he held. "Monday I'll go over my files again. But this time I'll look at them with different eyes, as a painter. Go home, Peter, tell El I said hi, and good work."
"I will," Peter said, as he walked out of the room. He now felt that he was getting closer to finding Neal. "Hold on, Neal," he whispered. "I'm not giving up, I'm going to find you."
It was late in the afternoon that Neal was beginning to feel restless. Thankfully, the pain pills worked on keeping the ache in his shoulder and ribs tolerable. But he needed to walk around, stretch his legs. He wanted to keep up his strength.
With Nolano insisting on helping him, he walked him to the studio. Neal tried to show interest in making sure he had all the supplies he needed to create the next batch of paintings. Nolano sat on a chair and watched him as he checked on what they had in stock. As he was examining the bottles of pigment, he heard Nolano's chair drag on the floor.
Nolano rushed over to him and stood protectively in front of him. He opened his coat and shoved his hand inside. It was then that Neal realized that Nolano had a gun. His fingers curled around the grip of the gun.
Neal knew why he became so defensive when he saw who was standing in the doorway to the studio. Sullivan was leaning on the door jam. A cocky grin was set on his face, as he chewed on a wooden toothpick. Wrapped up in a bandage, he was flexing the hand that Neal jammed with the paintbrush.
"I didn't come here to fight, Nolano. Besides, I ain't packing." Sullivan opened his coat. There was no gun or knife in sight. Nolano remained in a defensive position.
"Fine, I'll stay here," Sullivan said. Closing his coat, he took the toothpick out of his mouth and pointed it at Neal. "I see you're getting started on the next batch of paintings ordered. I can't wait to start spending the money we're going to be making from all your hard work."
Neal coyly grinned. "You'll need it, I hear plastic surgery can be expensive. That's if you want to be able to go out in public without ending up in jail."
Sullivan's smile grew larger. "I hate to ruin these rugged good looks, but thanks for the advice. I never understood why Peter was so protective of you. You got him into a lot of trouble. I wondered if you were worth it, now I see why."
Turning, Neal resumed checking the bottles. "I suppose you expect me to ask why?"
"Don't give a rat's ass if you do or don't. For now, I ain't telling." He eyed Neal. "You know, if you were my C.I., I wouldn't have babied you like Peter does."
"If I was your C.I., I would have to keep a large stock of bandages and pain killers."
Sullivan chuckled, "Yeah, I guess you would." Hearing Sullivan whistle, Neal turned his head. Sullivan pointed to his shoulder, "Let's just say that was a good start." He faux saluted him. "Here's to more productive meetings like this morning." He stuck the toothpick back in his mouth, smiled at Nolano and left the room.
"I never liked that man," Nolano said, as he took his hand off his gun. "During the robberies I could see that he enjoyed giving pain to others."
This was the first time Nolano talked about the robberies. Now Neal knew that Nolano was a part of them. "The killings," Neal said. "Were you, did you see them?"
"I was waiting in the car when it happened," Nolano softly said. "But I assure you, if I was there, I would have tried to stop him. When I was young, I would not have said the same. Getting older, you see life a bit differently. You realize how precious it is."
"I've always felt that way," Neal said. He found a bottle of the Lapis Lazuli blue. Opening it he was grateful to see that it was nearly empty. He didn't lie, they really did need the pigment ordered. Facing Nolano, he held the bottle up, "See, almost out of the blue that I need. It did have to be ordered."
"Yes, Mr. Caffrey. You were right. Now I think you've stretched your legs enough."
As Nolano led Neal back to his room, Neal noticed something on Nolano's sleeve. He brushed it off, "Got some dust there, Nolano."
Glancing at his sleeve he said, "Thank you."
Walking down the second-floor hallway, Neal saw a large chair sitting next to the door to his room. Entering his room, he was glad to see a plate with two cookies waiting for him. He was beginning to get used to them.
"Good night, Mr. Caffrey. Do not worry about Mr. Sullivan. I will be sleeping in front of your door tonight holding this." He patted his gun. "Rest easy, I will make sure you will not be disturbed again."
"Thank you, Nolano."
Nolano nodded his head before closing and locking the door.
Taking his plate of cookies Neal stood by his open window. He noticed that the extra guards had arrived early. There was now four in the driveway. As he ate his cookies, he saw something on his hand. Examining it, he was surprised to see a familiar blue dust on his fingers. A Lapis Lazuli bright blue! He realized that this was the hand that he used to brush the dust on Nolano's sleeve.
Did he take the pigment out of the bottle? If he did, why was he helping him? He was his guard in this prison. Why would he do that for him? If Peter wasn't able to figure out that he needed to track where the pigments were ordered, Neal wondered if he had another card in his hand to play, Nolano.
