Everything Old is new Again

By Ldynwaitin

Chapter Twenty

Piece of cake, with zipline on top

Peter silently watched Neal staring at a photo on the nightstand. Glassy eyed, he was clearly upset. On the photo was a gray-haired elderly man, he had a sophisticated air about him. Standing next to him was a young-looking Neal. The eyes were the same as the Neal of today. Cocky and so sure of himself. Peter immediately recognized that the man standing next to Neal was Peintre. He had the honor of being the first law officer to see him.

"Neal," Peter softly said. "Mozzie is waiting for us. We need to get you out of here. We'll go to the nearest city and call the local authorities. I promise that they'll pay for what they did to you, I'll make sure of that." He quietly took him by the arm. "You said you have a plan."

Wiping an eye, Neal cleared his throat. "Yes, we need to go to his balcony."

Neal went to the back of the room. He pulled back dusty curtains, exposing French doors. Looking through the glass he checked outside. With Mozzie's distraction the guard's timetable would be off. He checked the time, the guards should have walked by this section ten minutes ago. He searched outside, there was no one in sight. He was about to open the doors when he saw movement. Peter ducked down with him. Through the bars of the balcony's balusters Neal saw two guards walking down the side of the house.

As they waited for the guards to move past them, Neal snapped his fingers as he remembered something important.

"Peter, I forgot to tell you, I have inside of me a little present from Sullivan."

"Little present?" Peter asked.

"Yes, it's a tracker, and not of the scratchy anklet variety. I was told it was injected near my spine and that I'll need a surgeon to remove it. It has a radius of one hundred yards from the house."

"I've heard Interpol uses them. Sullivan must have called in a favor." Hearing what Sullivan did to Neal made Peter more determined to get him back home. "Good to know, that means once we leave this building, we're going to have move as fast as possible to where Mozzie is waiting for us."

Neal noticed that the guards were now out of sight. "Let's go," he said, as he swiftly opened the French doors. He stepped onto the balcony. The scent of rain was in the air. They had to hurry. He removed the two cloth ropes that he carried. Neal pointed up to two black wires anchored in the side of the building.

"Those wires bring electricity into the house," Neal explained to Peter. "Once I was given this," Neal pulled out a jackknife. "I started making the cloth ropes." He tucked the knife back in his pocket. "The ropes will help us get down. I used my bed sheets, 700 strand Egyptian cotton, Peintre always bought the best. They'll be strong enough to slide us down the wires."

Neal saw a look of concern run across Peter's face. "Electric wires?"

"Don't worry," Neal assured him. "The wires are well insulated, and we're not grounded, we won't get shocked. The wires go over a small barn. Peintre used to raise horses before I came here. We can slide down to its roof."

Peter looked down, they were four stories up. He searched ahead. In the darkness he could make out the shadow of a two-story barn, but it appeared to be over one hundred feet away.

"Neal, really not feeling this plan of yours."

Confidently grinning, Neal patted him on the back. "Trust me, Peter. It's a piece of cake. I've done it hundreds of times. All you have to do is hold on. Think of it as a zipline."

Peter tightly fisted his hands, he whispered, "I hate ziplines."

Neal began throwing the cloth rope up. As his arm stretched up, he gasped and bent over clutching his side.

"Neal, what's wrong?" Peter asked him. He was clearly in pain.

Neal realized that the pills were no longer able to keep the intense pain away. He should have taken more. He put on his patented grin. "Sullivan's special greeting to me." He pushed Peter's attention away. "Don't worry, it's just a little pain, I'll be fine."

Taking in a deep breath he threw the cloth-rope up, it looped around the wire. Peter tucked his gun in his holster as Neal handed him both ends of the rope. He then looped the other cloth rope on the wire. Peter noticed that he made hand holds.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Peter asked him, as he held the cloth rope up.

"Safe enough for the short time we need them," Neal insisted.

Neal helped him put his hands through the loops. He placed his hands on the rope. "Hold it this way, grip the cloth tight. If you feel yourself going too fast, pull down on the rope to create friction. When you're over the barn release your hold and you'll slip out."

Peter began shaking his head, "Neal, really not feeling this."

Now Neal knew just how terrified Peter was, he repeated himself. He looked into his eyes. "Peter, it'll be over before you know it. I'll go first, just watch what I do and copy me. And don't worry, I'll be there to catch you."

Peter took in a deep breath and nodded his head. This was the only way they could get out unnoticed. Neal was the pro, he'd done it hundreds of times. He had to put his trust in him. If he thought he could do it, then he could do it. "Okay, let's do this. And once we get down, we're going to run like hell for that gate."

Gripping the cloth, Neal climbed over the balcony's railing. Taking in a deep breath, he tried to block out the pain in his ribs as he jumped off. He easily slid down the line. As he was sliding, he was reminded of the wound in his shoulder. He concentrated on holding the cloth rope as he sped down the wire. As soon as he was over the barn, he released his hold. Falling a few feet, he landed on the roof of the barn. With the momentum of the slide, he stumbled and fell. He rolled on the roof until he stopped in the center. He quickly stood up. Holding his shoulder he looked back, he saw Peter looking at him for a sign to go.

Neal gave him the thumbs up to tell him that he was all right. He silently waved him on. Peter slowly climbed over the balcony's railing. Gripping the cloth rope tight, he closed his eyes and jumped.

Peter quickly opened his eyes when he realized how fast he was going. He saw Neal growing larger. As he slid down the wire, he forgot what Neal told him to do if he was going too fast. His long legs kicked out as he tried to slow down his descent. Coming to the front of the barn, he released his hold on the cloth just as Neal did. One hand slipped through, but the other was caught. Neal ran after him as he struggled to get his hand out of the loop.

He managed to jerk it out as he neared the edge of the barn's roof. He clumsily landed on one foot, the other hit the edge of the roof. Neal saw Peter's eyes wide with fear as he began leaning forward. Peter flailed his arms as he struggled to get his balance.

Neal lashed out and grabbed one of Peter's hands. Gripping it tightly he fought to pull him back. Planting both feet on the roof, he grabbed him with his other hand. He felt a stitch pop, but he would not let Peter go. Slowly he leaned back, he used his weight to pull Peter back on the roof. They both lay on the roof, trying to catch their breaths.

Peter felt his heart going a mile a minute. He knew he could not have survived that fall.

"See," Neal panted. "Piece of cake."

Peter said with a laugh, "That is the first and last time I'm doing that." He quickly stood up. Taking in a deep breath, he pointed ahead. "Come on, if you have a tracker, it won't take them long to know you're outside."

Peter threw out his hand to help Neal stand. He noticed how slowly Neal got up. He became alarmed when he saw a growing red spot on Neal's left shoulder.

"Neal, what is that?" Peter gasped.

Neal saw the blood stain on his shirt, he quickly brushed it off, "No time, Peter. We need to get down from here." He moved to the center of the barn. He knew there was a trap door that led inside. He had seen it years ago. Opening the door, he saw a wooden ladder. He climbed down the ladder with Peter right behind him.

They ran down a set of dusty wooden stairs to the first floor and quietly moved to a door in the back of the barn. Peter opened the door a crack and looked around. "Where's the gate?"

Neal grabbed his shoulder, the pain was sharp, the red spot had grown. "It's over there." He pointed to the left.

Peter was worried, it was plain to see that Neal was in pain. "Neal, can you make it?"

Neal nodded his head, "I'm fine, let's go. I'm not going back in that house."

Peter grabbed his arm, "No, you're not fine. Let me see." Opening his shirt, he was shocked to see his shoulder wrapped with a bandage. It was soaked in his blood.

"Neal, what else did that bastard do to you?"

He brought out his 'I'm okay' smile. "Peter, it's not life threatening. It looks worse than it is, we can take care of it after we get out of here. We must go now. The tracker, they'll be following us soon."

Peter knew he was right. Leaving the barn, they headed towards the gate. They ran through the thick growth of trees. Peter was thankful that the trees gave them cover. As soon as they came towards the end of the tree growth, bright lights turned on behind them. It was followed with people shouting.

"They know I'm gone," Neal said. "You got to go, Peter. They're looking for me. They don't know you're here."

"Not going to happen," Peter insisted, with determination coloring his voice. "I'm not going to leave you with that sadistic animal, Neal." He pulled out his gun.

"No Peter, you have to go. They won't hurt me, but they won't hesitate killing you. You're not going to die because of me."

"So touching," they heard from behind. Peter knew that voice well. Holding his gun in front of him he spun around. "Sullivan," he growled. Sullivan was leaning against a tree a few feet in front of them. He wore the most ingratiating grin.

"Peter, I was wondering when you were going to show up." He also had a gun, and it was pointed at Peter. "When I heard someone's car had broken down at the gate I got suspicious. Don't get many people out here. Sounded like a con that was once run against me. Then I remembered the great Neal whisperer, how you're able to always find him. Been waiting here for fifteen fucking minutes now." Aiming his gun to the sky he fired off one shot.

Hearing shouting, three guards ran towards them. Nolano was with them.

"You found him," Nolano panted. He tucked a small black box in his jacket. Looking at the man standing next to Neal, he immediately recognized him. It was Peter Burke, the FBI agent that was in charge of Neal.

"No thanks to you!" Sullivan angrily growled. "Get his gun," he ordered one of the guards. Peter reluctantly handed his gun to the guard. The guard aimed Peter's gun at him. Peter held his hands up in submission.

Sullivan was steaming, he never expected to see Peter on the grounds with Caffrey. He walked up to Neal. He grabbed Neal's shirt and pulled him close. His face was inches from Neals. He angrily spat out, "You tried to escape on my watch! You made me look bad in front of Lilith."

"That wasn't hard," Neal said.

"Asshole! I don't know how you did it, Caffrey, but you're going to pay. Remember, when you first got here? Lilith told me you were warned what would happen if you tried to escape. There's going to be two less fucking mutts on this world."

Pulling back, Sullivan landed a blow to his side. Peter tried to stop him, but one of the guards held him back. Neal clutched his side, he drew in deep breaths. That hurt!

"You son of a bitch!" Peter growled. He struggled to get out of the guard's grip. "Big man, hitting someone that's wounded."

"If I didn't fucking need you, Caffrey, I'd kill you where you stand, along with Burke. Watch both of them!" he ordered a guard. Sullivan pushed Neal towards where Peter was standing. Neal leaned on a tree for support. "Think you can handle that?"

The guard holding Peter's gun nodded his head. "Yes, sir."

Peter got just a small taste of what Neal had been going through the past week, and he didn't like it. He couldn't believe it, Sullivan just threatened to kill Satchmo and Bugsy! They held that over Neal's head from the beginning. If the guards were not there, he would have been at Sullivan's throat.

Sullivan now turned his wrath at Nolano. "Only you have the key to Caffrey's room, Nolano. How the hell did his friend get inside the mansion and get him out of that locked room? Did you help them?"

Nolano pulled out his key. "I have no idea how he got out, but it wasn't me."

Sullivan now aimed his gun at Nolano, "If not you, then who?"

Neal stumbled back on the tree, Peter pulled out of the guards hold and caught him. He held him steady. He was surprised to feel Neal put something in his hand.

"Help him," Neal whispered. He gave Peter the lock pick. He couldn't live with himself if Nolano was killed because of him. Also, if said he used the pick, they would search him and find the jackknife.

"What's with him? I didn't hit him that hard" Sullivan shouted, he was about to approach them when Peter showed them his shoulder. "Maybe not, but what about this?" They all saw the blood on Neal's shirt.

Sullivan chuckled. "Forgot about that. Ain't nothing better than a CI's blood." He cocked his gun and aimed it at Nolano. "Still waiting for an explanation, Nolano."

"I helped him escape," Peter declared. He realized the 'him' Neal wanted him to help was Nolano.

"I know you're smart, Peter. But how did you get him out of that room without a key?"

"I hate to brag but being with Neal for the past few years I picked up a few things. Like picking locks." He showed them the lock pick. One of the guards snatched it from his hand.

Sullivan now aimed his gun at Peter. "Tell me why I don't shoot you right here?"

Peter eyed Neal, he had no choice. "I really didn't want to do this now," Peter said. Neal saw him moving his hand inside his jacket pocket. He suddenly realized what Peter had inside. His mind was racing. It was too early to show it, seeing someone running from the mansion he knew what he had to do, he flinched as he quickly turned around to shield Peter. "No, Sullivan, you're not going to kill him."

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't," Sullivan said, as he kept his gun trained on Peter.

"I'm doing the paintings because you threatened my friend's lives. If you kill Peter, then I refuse to paint another stroke."

"You have other friends," Sullivan countered.

"Yes, but if you let him live, I swear to you that you will no longer need to threaten my friends lives. I give you my word that I will not try to run. I'll willingly do the paintings. Just let him live."

"Neal," Peter cried out. "You can't make that promise. You won't have a life."

Neal gently smiled at Peter, "But you and El will. This is all my fault. You, Elizabeth, all my friends. Your lives have been in danger because of me. I've watch to many close to me die, no more. I have to do this, Peter." He turned and faced Sullivan. "Do we have a deal, Sullivan?"

"What's going on here?" Albert shouted as he was running towards them, "How the hell did he get out?" Albert came to an abrupt stop when he saw Peter standing next to Neal. "Wait, that's the agent, Neal's friend." He suddenly recognized what he heard Neal say. "Who's making deals?"

"I was talking to Sullivan," Neal said. "We were…. we were…" Peter became alarmed when he saw his face flush white. "As much as this fresh air…is refreshing," Neal said. "I really think…we should bring this…inside." With that said, he collapsed on the ground.