Chapter 7

A loud slam and Finch's back made close contact with the wall. Biting down a cry of pain, he looked up, and found themselves in a disused toilet,probably in the southeast corner of the museum, where renovations were taking place. His eyes searched the room for Neal, registering two men guarding the entrance to the bathroom, before finding Neal on the floor.

A third, gruff-looking man tromped into the bathroom. He stalked over to Finch, held what suspiciously like a photo of Mozzie from surveillance footage up into his face, and grunted.

"That's not Caffery's sidekick. He's useless. Get rid of him."

Neal's eyes widened in panic as two men approached Finch with guns poised, ready to strike. "W-Wait! Wait!"

To Neal's amazement, Finch pushed his glasses up, peered at the two menacing men looming over him, and announced, "Who said I was useless?"

The gruff-looking man held up a hand and halted his colleagues. "No?"

"Oh, come on." Finch said nonchalantly, his face smug. "You don't honestly think Caffery can operate alone in a well guarded New York Museum, do you? He's a conman, con-MAN." He drew out the words slowly and deliberately, in a patronising voice. "He's the people's person, and I'm the computer guy. Can't you see?" He flexed his fingers in a mock-typing gesture.

The gruff man turned to Neal, his face inquisitive.

"He's the only one who can disable the alarms," Neal said quickly, wishing fervently that he was telling the truth, "Let go of him."

"Oh yeah?" The gruff man returned the gun to Finch, waving it in circles. Finch wondered at the back of his mind what Reese would say to the man's unprofessional gestures - amateurs, no doubt. A professional never played with his gun like a toy. "Where's your laptop then, genius?"

"Checked in at the cloakroom," said Finch sarcastically. "We weren't due to start till half an hour before the event closes."

"Yeah, well," the man eyed Neal and Finch suspiciously, "Boss gets impatient." He nodded towards one of his men. "Go get this gentleman's laptop, and then we'll see what we do about him."

Desperate, Neal rested his gaze upon Finch, while scoping the room with his peripheral vision. His new friend had clear physical limitations, which means he wouldn't be any help if things turned violent, and Neal was not sure whether he could take down two men by himself, both armed.

It took Neal three full seconds to realise that the other man was blinking at him oddly. Slow, long. Slow, slow, long.

Oh.

His heart thumping wildly, Neal mentally translated the morse code the other man was giving by blinking.

PETER HERE - PLAY ALONG.

Breathless, Neal nodded.

Two NYPD detectives and two FBI agents stared at each other, bewildered.

"Right. Quick round of introductions, then," Peter said, "Detectives, this is Special Agent Clinton Jones, and Special Agent Diana Barrigan."

Reese merely lifted his eyebrow and looked at his detectives.

"Ergh." The woman sighed exasperatedly. "I'm Detective Carter, Homicide."

"Fusco," said the man. "Excuse our friend. He's not the small talk type."

Despite himself, Reese's lips quirk in amusement. "Finch, tell Caffery that all of New York's Finest are here to save him. Don't let him panic."

"He's being sarcastic," said Fusco helpfully. "At least, he thinks I'm an idiot."

"So much confidence, Lionel."

"The task at hand, people!" Peter raised his voice, looking slightly worried at the weird combination of personnel that gathered outside the museum. "Caffery is in trouble. I know, again." He said as his two agents glanced at each other knowingly. "This time, it's for me. Don't ask, just get him out of there."

Jones opened his mouth. "Who -"

"Don't ask," said Peter, shaking his head. "In fact, make that into a ground rule for the night. Don't ask questions, just focus on the task at hand." He finger-called his agents to come closer, while giving the two detectives a significant look. "I want to keep this off the books. If nothing, the paperwork over jurisdiction can bury me. You understand?"

"If you say so, boss."

Reese met the inquisitive looks from his detectives and shrugged. "Not my concern."

"Our friend here - sorry, I didn't catch your name -"

"Jackass would do fine," said Fusco.

"- John," Reese said, appearing not to have heard him. "I have ears on the inside."

"That's right. John here still has a connection with his friend, Finch, is it? On the inside," Peter nodded his approval, "Let's hope they stay online for the duration of this evening. Caffery is planning a heist."

The two agents groaned in unison. The two detectives, on the other hand, perked up.

"A heist?" Fusco asked, eyeing Peter with interest. "Like Ocean's Eleven heist?"

"Don't let Caffery hear you say that," said Peter dryly. "What's the situation like inside?"

"They are holding Caffery and Finch captive." Reese said, straining to make out background noise in his ear. "Inside the museum somewhere... They are holding Finch hostage, while Caffery extracts the painting for them."

"And Neal can pull it off?" Peter eyed the crowd questioningly. "In a late-night opening such as this?"

"Exactly because of this," Reese said, smiling slightly. In his ear, Finch was explaining their planned action over in excruciating detail, while the mobsters tutted in impatience. Clearly it wasn't for the bad guys' benefit. "Caffery is going to scope the area and mingle with the crowd, until half an hour before the museum closes. Then they will - "

Reese stopped, and for a moment, looked astonished.

"Caffery just told his captors that he was due to meet a date as cover for the evening." He scanned the people in front of him. "Who will it be?"

"So as you can see, the main security hole is in the switchboard," Finch's blabber drew near a finish, "if I can get through to that, I can disable the museum completely, and turn in it a free house."

Their captor grunted. "See that you do." He cocked his gun, and pulled out a mobile phone, waving it threateningly in front of Neal. "One phone call. One phone call is all it takes, and your friend, the guy in a suit, dies."

Both Neal and Finch looked up at the use of that phrase, but it was Neal who spoke. "If you are here under diplomatic cover, you really shouldn't kill an federal agent. It's not polite."

The gruff man laughed. "Boss always liked your humour, he did." He wiggled his phone. "Don't worry. My friends are going to bring him over in a minute, so he can join our little party."

Neal arched a brow. "You want the feds in on the heist?"

"Oh no, no no no." The man waved a finger, as if playing with a small child. "He's our escape plan."

A thick, tense silence hang in the air, and Neal was surprised when Finch piped up.

"So you are going to bring Agent Burke here, use him as a hostage, and once we are done, return him to his normal duty, so he can arrest Caffery?"

"Oh look!" The gruff man said in malicious glee, tipping up Finch's chin. "Our little geek here is not useless after all." Keeping his eyes fixed on Neal, he whispered to Finch's ear, "But don't you worry. Everything is going to be fine. Neither of you will make the news, if you behave."

"Ingenius plan," Neal muttered, his eyes fixed upon Finch. "Who do you think will arrive first? My date, or Agent Burke?"

"Depends on the traffic," said the gruff man sarcastically. He glanced at his watch. "Show time soon. Tell me, is your date hot, Caffery?"

Neal opened his mouth but Finch cut him short. "Depends on your idea of hot," he said.

Both men glanced at him. Neal in alarm, the captor in interest.

"Oh, you don't know?" Finch tilted his head sideways, an innocent smirk on his face. "Mr. Caffery here is meeting a man tonight."

Five pair of eyes stared back at him, while Reese appeared motionless and transfixed on the sidewalk, one hand in his ear.

"Boss?" Diana prompted, sparing a glance at her Peter. "Shall I go in now?"

"Yeah." Peter said, still eyeing Reese warily. "Diana knows Neal, and she has a lot of undercover experience. Sorry, detective."

"Hey, it's all fine by me," said Carter, throwing her hand up in the air. "I love to get away from bodies and all, but far be it for me to botch an art heist."

"Right." Peter nodded to his agents, "Diana, you meet with Caffery and help him in whatever you can. Jones, cover the rear exit. Detectives, if you can cover the two side exits. We should pair up and blend in the crowd. I will -"

"Wait." Reese finally spoke, his voice low as usual, yet somewhat authoritative enough so that everyone stopped what they were doing and turned. He met the inquisitive eyes with a blank expression. "Caffery wants a man for his date."

There was a moment of startled pause.

"He can't possibly mean me," Peter said finally, frowning. "He knows that if I show up, then his captors will know the other end of their operation is botched. It's too risky."

Reese nodded his agreement. "In fact, I think your part comes in later." He told them about the proposed plans of bringing Peter over and using him as an integral part of the mobster's operation, except that the mobsters in the museum was not yet aware the other end had fallen through.

"So, I stumble into the museum later, pretending that I was brought over there by the bad guys." Peter said out loud, mulling it over in his head. "I act the part until Caffery hands over the painting to the Irish, and I strike, arresting them before they can make a switch."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Which leaves us with the question - who's going in as Caffery's date, right now?"

Another moment of worried silence.

"Well - I'm not going in," said Jones in the end, extremely alarmed. "I don't think Caffery and I make a convincing couple."

Fusco shifted uncomfortably on his spot. "Hey, don't look at me. I don't even know the guy."

"He specifically wants a guy for his date?" Diana said, half incredulous, half wary. "Why?"

Carter just narrowed her eyes at Reese. "This Caffery character didn't say that. I bet our friend with the glasses did."

Reese shot her a glance of surprise. "Very intuitive, detective."

"Yeah, well, that makes sense now." Fusco snorted, "Glasses probably feels safer around you, than any of us."

"Your friend set you up with my Neal?" Peter stepped closer, his face full of disbelief. Behind him, Jones and Diana exchanged an uncertain look.

"Yes, my Finch set me up with your Neal," Reese repeated pointedly, sounding no less displeased about it. He could hear Finch on the other end of the line talking still, and could swear that he heard Finch's voice falter for a split second.

Carter surveyed the two men back and forth. "This Caffery person. What's he like?" The question was directed at no one in particular.

"Charming." Peter couldn't think of a better word that described Neal. "Warm. Mischievous. Annoying sometimes. He is an ex-con, you know. All smiles when you want him."

The corner of Reese's lips twitched.

Fusco laughed mercilessly. "Oh, I can just picture you two snogging under the mistletoe." Even Carter sniggered.

"Yeah..." The agents looked at Reese, sympathetic worry evident on their faces. "Caffery really is something."

"It's not easy being Caffery's date," Diana advised him, "Sometimes you just have to resist the urge to punch him."

"I wouldn't go anywhere near Caffery's all smiles," said Jones, helpful. "Nothing good has ever come out of it."

Reese made a mental note to put salt tablets in Finch's green tea later. "Appreciate your concern, agents, detectives, but a gentleman is never late for his date." He straightened his suit. "Agent Burke. I trust you will take good care of my detectives?"

"Of course," said Peter, unsure of whether he should look encouraging or menacing. "Take good care of Neal for me, now."

Reese nodded to them one last time. "See you inside."

The gruff man pushed open the bathroom door, waving his phone and gun for the last time.

"Remember, one phone call, and your agent friend dies. Call the police or try to run, and your geek friend dies. Don't deliver the painting by 11pm, and all of you die. Understood?"

Neal gave Finch one last hard look, and nodded. "Where should I meet you to deliver the painting?"

"The alley two blocks down, behind Griffin's Head," said the man, gesturing at one of the guards to leave. "My friends here will wait for you there. Don't be late..." he made a two fingered gesture of a gun. "or bang."