"Tell me again why we're not waiting for a psychiatrist," Neal said as Peter moved to go into the interrogation room where Jimmy Novak sat.

"We need information. We'll never get anything out of him once the shrink gets here, but he knows something about our thief, I'm sure of it," Peter replied, "No, you stay out here."

Neal opened his mouth to protest, but Peter cut him off. "I don't want to hear it, Neal. He just tried to kill you; you're too close to this."

Neal looked mutinous for a moment, but Peter gave him his sternest look and eventually he went to sulk at his desk while Peter did the interview.

Peter entered the room where Novak was handcuffed to the desk. Novak was looking curiously out through the glass wall into the open plan section of the office, his head tilted slightly to one side.

Peter sat opposite him, placing Novak's thin file on the desk in front of him. No priors, just a missing person's report. "We've got you on attempted murder, Jimmy. You better start talking."

Novak wrenched his gaze from the window and looked Peter up and down. "Very well. What would you like me to talk about?"

Well, that was easier than he'd been expecting. "Why don't we start with why you broke into my consultant's home and held him at gunpoint?"

"We believed him to be the witch responsible for murdering at least four people. Although it now appears we may have been mistaken." Novak's tone was mild. Peter thought mistaken was something of an understatement.

"You thought he was a witch, huh?"

"There was considerable circumstantial evidence."

Oh, Peter had to hear this. He glanced out the window to where Neal was lurking, pretending not to spy on the interview. "And what would that be?"

"He is... suspiciously successful. It appeared he was performing some sort of magic to encourage people to adhere to his wishes."

Peter owed Neal the biggest I-told-you-so ever. Something-for-nothing schemes always lead to bad places.

"This isn't looking good for you, Jimmy. Attempting to murder an FBI consultant because he's got a good sales technique isn't going to go down well with a jury. But I think I'm right in saying that this wasn't your idea. Give me the Winchesters or a good lead on the Rivers in Flood case and maybe we can make a deal."

"I am not Jimmy Novak. You should not blame him for my actions." The man opposite him seemed to harden.

"This is a limited time offer, Jimmy." Peter forced himself to look into Novak's intense gaze.

"My name is Castiel," Novak said, his voice low and threatening. He glared at Peter, pulling himself up to his full height in his chair. "I am an... I am human." He seemed to deflate, turning his head to stare out the window again.

"I'm aware that you're human, Jimmy. What do you know about Rivers in Flood? Why were you 'investigating' it?"

"Dean wanted to."

Peter sighed. "Why did Dean want to?"

"He felt it would distract me from the loss of my grace."

Through gritted teeth, Peter said: "But why this case? What do you know about the painting?"

"There have been several suspicious deaths associated with it. We believe them to be caused by a vengeful spirit bound to the painting."

"I see." Peter waited for Novak to continue. He didn't. The man was looking out through the glass wall again, eyes following Neal as the consultant turned to speak to someone. "And what does this have to do with Neal?"

"The disappearance of the reproduction indicated that the spirit had been bound to it and used to remove it from the gallery. The only way that would be possible is through witchcraft."

"Ghosts don't exist, Jimmy. The painting was removed by a person, and I know you know something more. You attacked my consultant immediately after we discovered how the painting was removed. You could have escaped the city. Why would you choose to risk capture if you had nothing to do with the theft?"

Novak looked directly into Peter's eyes. "We wished to prevent further deaths," he said.

Peter was getting more and more frustrated. It wasn't often that you came across crazies in his line of work. Most con-men and fraudsters were highly intelligent, committing crimes for which they needed clear heads. Even Mozzie, with all his quirks and conspiracy theories, was not actually insane. He knew the difference between fantasy and reality, which clearly Jimmy Novak did not. He changed tack.

"Where are the Winchesters?" he asked. It sounded as though the leader of this little band of criminals was Dean Winchester. Speaking to him would give Peter a better idea of what they knew. Not to mention the fact that Peter would just love to put those guys behind bars for life.

"They will probably not come back for me," Novak said sadly, suddenly fascinated by the wall behind Peter's head.

"You've got no priors, Jimmy. Turn in the Winchesters and you might be able to get a reduced sentence."

Jimmy Novak sat rigidly in his chair and stared at the wall. "I am not Jimmy Novak," he said.

Peter gave up and left him there with an agent at the door while they waited for the psychiatrist.

XXX

Sam opened his laptop and turned it on. Over the whirring of the computer start-up he could hear his brother pacing the room.

"What are you doing, Sam?" Dean asked exasperatedly. He was all ready to dash out the door after Cas, unable to contain his impatience.

"We need a plan, Dean. They'll have taken him to the FBI building. We don't have a way in, we don't know what floor he's on, or what the security measures are, and we don't have an inside man. If you go rushing off after Cas now, all that's going to happen is you getting arrested." It was just like Dean, rushing into something without thinking about it. Sam hated not having a plan.

Dean took a deep breath and let it out, forcing himself to sit opposite Sam. "You're right," he agreed. "We need a plan."

"Not to mention the spirit," Sam said, trying to ignore the tension on Dean's face. "I know I was against going into the FBI to take care of it but if we have to go in anyway to rescue Cas we might as well kill two birds with one stone."

"Dude, I'm starting to think we might have been wrong about that guy being the witch. He didn't crack when we had him at gunpoint, and nothing seemed to happen when you did the unbinding ritual. What if..." Dean trailed off. Sam knew he was about Cas. Probably blaming himself for Cas getting arrested.

Sam pulled up the FBI website on the laptop. "We'll get him back, man," he said. He might be pissed at Cas (really pissed), but the guy was Dean's best friend and had basically turned himself in to let them get away. Sam wasn't going to let him get locked up for the rest of his life. Plus, they didn't know how well Cas would stand up under interrogation, and he knew where they were staying.

Dean frowned. "Maybe it's the artist," he said, in a sudden change of subject that caught Sam slightly off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"No-one's ever seen him, right? No-one knows who he is? What was the name of the guy Melissa bought the painting from?"

"Melinda, Dean. She bought it in an internet auction from a guy called John Cale, but she never met him."

"Marc Winterbourne bought it from a guy called Joseph Clark. The artist's name is J.P. Collins," Dean said, warming up to his subject.

"You think they're all the same person?" Sam asked.

"Exactly. And the murders are escalating. The first one was a pretty normal locked door situation and they've been getting weirder and weirder."

Sam almost laughed at the fact that they now considered a murder inside a room locked from the inside a run of the mill case. "Like he's building up to something," he said, "Like maybe a murder in the FBI building?"

"Think about it, Sam. If you wanted to murder someone inside the FBI building, how would you do it?"

"I wouldn't, Dean. I'm not a psychopath."

"Just roll with it, man."

"So you're thinking the guy had someone specific in mind, painted the painting using the blood of someone whose spirit would go straight for that guy, and all these murders up till now have just been practice?"

"It got the painting inside the federal building, didn't it?"

Sam nodded. It was pretty clever, actually. And maybe all the previous deaths were connected somehow as well. Like if they all knew something. It would explain why the newest owner hadn't been killed, if it had been the guy's plan all along to get it inside the federal building. "We need to get into the building tonight and burn the painting before someone gets killed."

"So here's the plan," Dean said, looking considerably more cheerful than he had a few minutes ago, "Get into the building. Rescue Cas. Burn the painting. Get out. Find the witch. Destroy any witchy stuff it has, and deliver to the feds without getting caught."

"Pretty much. Only we should probably find the witch first, or at least identify him. He's bound the spirit to the painting using spell work, so he can remove it after the murder. If he's still got control of the spirit he'll be able to remove it before we can burn it."

Dean nodded, tapping his fingers impatiently on his leg. "What if they move Cas?" he said. "If he's not in the building when we go in, we'll never get him back."

Sam looked at his screen, trying to concentrate on tracking the artist.

Dean stood up. "You keep doing that," he said, "I'm going to distract the feds."

He was out the door before Sam could stop him.

XXX

Neal watched through the glass as the Jimmy Novak stopped talking. Just closed his mouth and stared at the wall. Peter came out a moment later.

"Anything?" Neal asked.

Peter shook his head. "We're gonna have to wait for the shrink. He's beyond crazy and he doesn't seem to know anything about the thief. The Winchesters seem to have thought you were stealing it and murdering people using witchcraft."

Neal spluttered. "But why? Why would they think that?"

Peter clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You seemed much more successful than you should be, and they thought you were using some kind of magic to get people to do what you wanted."

"And it didn't occur to them that I might just be a people person?"

"Apparently not. Like I said, absolutely nuts. You okay?"

Neal grinned at him. "Aren't I always?" He asked, and put his hands in his pockets so Peter wouldn't see them shaking.

"Sure you are," said Peter. "Why don't you get us some coffee and I'll call Elizabeth and tell her we'll be here a while."

Everyone was in Peter's office, and Neal was setting the coffee on the long table when the phone rang. Peter quickly finished the message he was leaving for El and hung up his cell phone. He picked it up the phone.

"Peter Burke," he said. There was a pause, and then Peter was signalling for a trace. He put the phone on speaker. "Dean Winchester."

"Hi guys," The voice said through the phone. "How are you doing?"

Jones was setting up the trace, waving his hand to keep him talking.

"Oh, I'm fine," said Neal. "I'm going to need you to pay for the sofa, though."

"Dude, the sofa's fine. Sammy hardly got any blood on it."

"Why are you calling us, Dean?" Peter asked.

"Turns out we were wrong about who the witch is. Just calling to let you know we've got a new lead."

There was a click as Dean hung up. Everyone turned to look at Jones. He shook his head.

"Dammit," said Peter. "Why would he call us just to say that?"

Diana spoke up. "He kind of sounded like he was apologising."

Five minutes later the phone rang again.

"Hey guys," said Dean, "I have a question for Peter Burke. Does anyone have a vendetta out on you? Maybe someone you pissed off about ten years ago?"

"I'll ask the questions, Dean," Peter growled.

Jones gestured to keep the conversation rolling.

"You answer mine, I'll answer yours." Dean's reply was almost drowned out by a fire siren.

"Sure," Peter said, "I'm good at my job. I lock plenty of bad guys away. Like you, for instance. Now, my question. Where are you?"

"New York," said Dean, and hung up the phone.

Dean Winchester called every five to ten minutes for several hours. He would call, ask a question, wait for an answer, and hang up.

First it was: "Was there someone you put away for art theft?"

Peter told him he put away lots of people for art theft, and asked him where his brother was. Dean told him they'd split up.

The next question was "Do you know anyone with the initials J.C.?"

Peter asked him why and Dean told him that J.C. was a witch.

A pattern was emerging. It seemed the Winchesters were still investigating and they had made some pretty decent connections. Neal was kicking himself for not thinking of it. The thief had been building up to get to Peter.

Dean stopped calling just as it was getting light. They'd kept him on the line long enough to track him twice, but each time he'd disappeared by the time the police got there.

Neal dredged through his memory for people with the initials J.C. while Peter had Diana search the databases of arrests he'd made. "I know a guy with the initial J.C.," he said, "He's pretty well known in the art world, might be able to pull something like this off. I don't know what his connection to you would be though."

Peter looked at him. "Art theft world, you mean."

Neal shrugged and gave Peter his brightest smile.

Peter sighed. "What's his name?"

"Justin Case."

"Seriously?"

"No, really, that's his name. I think it turned him bad."

Finally, they were getting somewhere.

XXX