Afternoon meetings were cancelled and I had a little time on my hands and so I am a day early with this chapter. Thanks for reading and especially reviewing the story. Just FYI, I have finished the story before I start posting it so even though some of you may have some awesome ideas about where the story could go: its already written. Maybe one day I will be brave enough to post as I write, but that day has not yet arrived. I do still like to hear what you would like so I can consider it for future stories.

Of course, I own nothing but the mistakes, for which I accept all responsibility.

Chapter Four

Neal was glad to be finally be alone. The afternoon had not gone as he had expected it to. It was strange to put on clothes that Don Teagan had bought for him, as impeccable and obviously expenses as they were. The sizes were perfect, too, right down to the underwear. Creepy, he thought, but he was still grateful that they had made the shopping list. He put on a pair of pajama pants and a tee shirt after his shower and sat down to work out details for the entry into the Zenith Building. Teagan had provided all the information about the building he could possibly need, right down to the comings and going of the people who worked there. He even had a key card, which Neal didn't want to know how he had acquired, that he could mimic. The codes would have been changed, but that wouldn't be a problem. His extensive knowledge of the Onity Locking System went beyond that of a company installer, and maybe even beyond some of the programmers themselves. He smiled at the memory of the months he had spend getting acquainted with the system. He still had various key cards in storage locations scattered about; special pass keys that would get him into any system he had installed. You never knew when one might come in handy. He didn't have one for Zenith Building however; he hadn't installed that system. In fact, he hadn't installed any systems in the states. His work at the time had been confined to a few European companies, and of course, a villa outside Rome. He studied the plans and specifications for the complex, determining what route would be the most suitable and what corresponding key cards would be needed. He made a detailed list of items he would need to complete the task. That list would be handed off to Teagan the first thing in the morning.

But after that was finished, and it was well after midnight, he still found himself unable to turn off his mind and sleep. His thoughts drifted back to the day Teagan's men had extended the invitation. If they had told him up front what the job entailed and what the payment would be, without the whole rib bruising scenario, would he have gone to Peter?

He didn't think that he would have; he had debated it anyway. Instead, he would have gone to Mozzie. He and Mozzie would have discussed it. They would have done some research themselves on Teagan and his operations. They would have gone over it at great length, weighing the pros and cons, the chances that Teagan could actually be trusted to deliver, and how such a move would impact their lives. Could it be done under Peter's nose? Could there be a way to get out of the anklet for the critical times? Could Neal create the cards and let Mozzie do the actual entry? What would the ramifications be? Wine would have probably been involved. But after all of that, would he have accepted the offer? In all honesty, he told himself, probably not. But he certainly would have enjoyed entertaining the idea with his friend and co-conspirator.

Then he recalled the thrill of excitement he had felt when the helicopter had lifted off, leaving the surveillance van far below. With no anklet on his leg, he felt a lightening of his spirit. His heart began to beat faster. Someone knew where he was at every given moment; They could pull up his tracking data and plot out every step he had taken over the past two years, give or take an operation or two and his vacation in Cape Verde. He tried not to think about how confining that knowledge was, how heavily it weighed on his mind sometimes. But as he flew above the city, it occurred to him that he could toss the watch out of the window and no one could track him. There would be no data to pull up and check. He could walk in freedom. But he couldn't walk in freedom to June's or to The Greatest Cake or to his favorite spot at the park. He would have to run; take Teagan's offer and leave New York for good. He enjoyed the exhilaration of knowing how very real that option was. All he had to do was toss the watch. His heart pounded and he had to concentrate to keep his breathing steady. But the feeling only lasted a few moments before he felt a calmness come over him. It was the calmness that always came once he reached a decision. He had looked at the watch on his arm. He liked his apartment at June's. He liked New York. He liked Elizabeth's game hens, and he even liked working with Peter. He could go if he wanted, but he could stay if he wanted, too. That knowledge brought a feeling of peace and calm. Lying there, Neal remembered that moment of decision, felt the peace that came from making it, and finally fell asleep.

Six a.m. came too quickly, and Neal felt the effects of the late night. He climbed on the treadmill, positioned by the large window overlooking the city, and began to run. It wasn't the same as his usual early morning run through the park, but it was good enough. After a vigorous workout he felt better. He felt energized and ready to focus on the task at hand. He left the shower and examined the clothes that had been left for him in the closet. He picked out an outfit and dressed, combed his hair, returned to the bedside table and picked up the watch.

"Good morning," he said softly. "Another hour and your relief will arrive."

There was a knock on the door at seven a.m. Neal bid the visitor to enter. One of Teagan's men, the younger of the two Neal had been pummeled by on Tuesday, rolled a trolley inside. Apparently breakfast had arrived. The man's look said that he didn't appreciate being food service, and he only glared at Neal's polite "Good morning."

"Mr. Teagan said you have a list?" the voice was gruff.

"Yes," Neal handed the man the list he had compiled the night before, "and if you want a good dish, don't skimp on the ingredients." He smiled brightly. The man was not amused.

"Mr. Teagan thinks you are something special, but I don't see it." He said "You look like a little punk-a**ed kid to me."

"Looks can be deceiving," Neal said easily, "for instance, you look rather intelligent to me."

That earned him a punch in the gut, and he let out a yelp. The man smiled as Neal straighten himself back up to his normal stance, unable to hide the discomfort. "Guess those ribs are still a bit tender, huh Caffrey?"

"A bit," Neal admitted. Teagan might think he was worth keeping around long term but it was clear that this man did not feel the same way. And judging by the behavior of the other man during the original beat down, he doubted that he was a Neal Caffrey fan, either.

Just after ten, the man arrived with the items Neal had requested. He looked questioningly at some of the items but didn't ask any questions, and after depositing everything he left Neal to his work.

Neal was anxious to get started; with nothing to do but wait during the morning, he was suffering a bad case of cabin fever. He had almost taken a chance to venture out of the penthouse, but the pain in his mid section cautioned him to do nothing to encourage any further injury. Now that supplies had arrived, his mind could be occupied. He began to sort out and arrange his tools and supplies in a very neat and precise order, and when he was finished, he began to work.

Lunch arrived at twelve-thirty on the dot, but Neal didn't even look up from his work when the man entered nor when he departed. When he came back to get the trolley an hour later, the food had remained untouched.

"You not going to eat anything?" the man asked, causing Neal to look up from his work.

"Oh, yeah," Neal said, stepping over and raising the cover on the dish. It looked like a club sandwich. He took a napkin, opened it up and lay in on the table, and placed half of the sandwich on it. He took the other in his hand, and replaced the cover on the dish. "Just got busy, you know," he said to the man with a smile, "time flies when you are having fun."

The man grunted at that, but Neal couldn't tell if it was in agreement or disagreement. Either way, he and the trolley disappeared out the door and Neal finished his sandwich. Just as the morning had dragged by before his supplies had arrived, the time after he began his work passed in a flash. By mid afternoon Teagan arrived to check on his progress; he was all but finished with the necessary key cards. Neal again explained the way in which they would enter the Zenith Building, access the office in question, and escape the premises. In and out in twenty minutes, was his prediction, if Teagan was correct about the location of the files he was on mission to acquire. Teagan was impressed as he looked at one of Neal's forged key cards.

"Have you given my offer any further thought?" he said, "A man with your talents can go far," he smiled, "Much further than what you have allowed yourself to become accustomed to."

"Yes, Italy is definitely out of my radius," Neal agreed, "I am considering it." And he was; entertaining the idea in his mind was quite enjoyable. The only thing that would have made it more so was Mozzie and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

"By the conclusion of our business tomorrow," Teagan reminded him, "I will need an answer."

"And by then you will have one."