The two boys were in shock. They sat in the FBI conference room with Patrick Rebny.
"You're a Fed!" Rick gasped, gaping at Neal.
"No. He's a consultant." Peter replied. "And this is the White Collar division. Art forgery and theft is included under White Collar crimes.
"But you know so much about art and everything." Sam looked bewildered, still gaping at Neal.
"That's what I consult on. Art. "
"Forger." Peter interjected. "And cons. That's what he consults on."
"I can do my own stuff too." Neal fired back at Peter.
"Forger like..." Sam started.
"Like me." Rebny said softly.
"I'll take that as a compliment." Neal smiled.
"Compliment?" Peter observed. "Oh so you really are planning to follow his example and go straight?"
"Peter. I'm hurt."
Peter rolled his eyes in dismay.
Rick was still very stiff. "I can't believe my own Dad sold us out."
"He did not sell you out." Peter stated firmly. "He is trying to protect you."
"So we aren't going to jail?" Sam looked scared.
"We want Philrone. You can help us."
Rick shouted, "He'll kill me!"
"We won't let that happen!" Peter's voice was firm.
"You didn't answer about jail," Sam said.
"You're worried about jail when I could be murdered!" Rick turned to him.
"No one is going to be..." Peter started.
"I've heard what happens in jail..." Sam started.
"Enough!" Patrick Rebny yelled. The boys looked up. "Boys, just shut up and listen."
Neal looked at Peter and then Sam.
"The worst punishment you are likely to get is community service," Neal observed.
"And we will protect you from Philrone." Peter finished.
"Boys, listen, Philrone is mad at me because he wanted me to do a job before I retired. He was using you to get at me. Or he thought he was, only since you didn't tell me, it didn't quite work how he expected." Patrick explained.
Sam's fingers clenched a pencil. He fiddled with it. "Will we get expelled?"
Rebny sighed. "Maybe."
"But my art and my grades. I'm finally getting my grade point up."
"No-one can take away your art!" Neal responded leaning toward him. He tapped the notepad in front of the boy. It was already covered with doodles.
"If you are a forger, do you still get to do art even if you get caught?" The boy fretted.
"Of course."
Peter rolled his eyes. "I just try and make sure he sticks to originals."
"My life is at stake and they are talking about art." Rick grumbled arms crossed. "What do you want me to do?"
"Keep forging that last one."
Sam's eyes went wide.
"And then deliver it like normal. Tell him you won't do anymore."
Rick eyes were huge with fear. "I can't do that."
"Neal going to show up dragging you, furious over being 'conned'. He'll say he had the art authenticated and he found Rebny's signature. He'll be insisting on payback."
"Then he'll kill both of us."
"No, he won't. Neal knows what to say to bring us in." Peter stated firmly.
"But the goal is to get Philrone to brag about how he got even with your Dad."
Rick's eyes took on a far away look. Then he came back and looked at his father. His lips were tight, worried.
"Rick, son, you've got an addiction. Gambling is an addiction. Like the rush of the con, or a drug, if you don't stop it now, it will destroy everything you love." Rebny pleaded.
Rick turned to look at Neal. "Are you addicted?"
Peter looked at a Neal. Inwardly, Neal cringed. Outwardly, he admitted, "Let's say I do love a rush."
"Okay. I'll do it."
Neal looked at Rick. The boy wasn't faking his fear. Neal was faking his confidence too. He hated dragging the boy in there. It would be different going alone. "Ready."
"Never will be." Rick replied.
"Right. Let's get it over with."
Neal grabbed the boy's wrist, twisting it behind his back and pretending to hold on. He shoved him against the wall and violently banged on Philrone's door.
Two big bouncers appeared at once. "Let me see Philrone."
The two moved threateningly toward them and Rick shrank against him. A voice squawked over a speaker and one of the men put a hand to his ear and nodded. He opened the door, then each man grabbed one of them and hauled them in. Their grip was strong enough to bruise.
"Hey!" Neal slithered free, shaking himself and waving the art forgery at Philrone. The man was sitting at an opulent desk in the study off the gambling den. "You tricked me. This things a fake! It's a forgery and you can see Rebny's signature."
"My dear Mr. Halden, calm down. What are you talking about?"
"Calm down? I had it authenticated. They found Rebny's signature. So I went to his place and pried the truth out of this kid!"
Philrone's eyes narrowed dangerously. Neal kept a wary eye on the bouncers. Rick, still held by the bouncer, was frozen with terror.
"Please! I didn't tell him, he already knew!"
"The boy owed me money Mr. Halden. I assure you a Rebny forgery can pass enough tests to earn a great deal of money. You included. Perhaps I could give you an extra for your trouble. I could use a go between and I know you have the resources."
Neal's eyes were narrow. "How do you get Rebny to do forgeries so easily? Far as I can tell the guy is legit."
"He was once an excellent forger. But he made the mistake of backing out of a job for me. Then his son here," he stood up and poked Rick, and Neal tensed as well, "decided to spend some time gambling with me. He lost a great deal of money. His father would do anything, even forge again, to protect him."
"That's interesting. You have quite a cash cow."
"That's it. Move in." Peter said. The team hurried into position. "Watch out for the security cams."
"Yes, but I think this one needs a lesson." Philrone's continued, his voice was cold.
Neal sidestepped slowly closer to the big bruiser and Rick. "He's your connection to Rebny. Hurt him and he might not cooperate." The other one was posted by the door.
"Hold him and his father give me everything I want." Philrone smiled.
The lights went out. Crashing and shouts of "FBI" rang out. Neal kicked hard. His foot slammed with a thud into the man still holding the boy. The man yelped and swung one handed close enough for Neal to feel the breeze but he had already jumped sideways. At the same instant he pulled Rick down.
The lights came on. Both the bodyguards were armed and pointing the weapons in the place Neal and Ricky had been. But they were surrounded by armor vested FBI agents, just as armed.
"Drop the guns!" Peter's voice was firm. "Where's Philrone?"
Neal looked up and around. His eyes widened staring at the floor. There was a suspicious half circle scrape mark on the carpet from the wall, the fibers rubbed in a pattern. "Look." He got up and ran to the bookcase, pulled. It swung out and flattened the rug, revealing the opening. The team ran in. Diana radioed out to look out for Philrone, possibly there was a hidden exit.
They ran down a short hall. Up ahead, Philrone's shadow appeared as light was revealed through an opening door. Running, Neal caught the door as it closed, yanked it open and saw Philrone out in the street. Diana radioed out. More shouts of FBI, Philrone raising the gun.
Neal skidded to a halt as Philrone fell. He turned away and backtracked to the study to find the boy. Rick was still shaking with adrenaline.
Peter and Diana headed toward Philrone.
A few minutes later, Neal walked out with Rick. Patrick Rebny ran up, hugged Rick. "You have no idea how hard it was to let you go through that." He looked up at Neal, "I heard gunfire."
Rick shivered.
Neal was quiet.
Peter strode around the corner. He stopped by them. Neal looked up. "Philrone...is no longer a problem."
"He's...dead?" Rick asked.
Peter nodded.
Neal's eyes dropped thoughtfully.
Rick looked up at his father sadly. "Dad, I'm sorry...I...I kind of blamed you for...for Mom being at the world trade center that day.."
Patrick looked startled. "I've blamed me Ricky."
"But now I know. It's not so easy to stop being a gambler. No matter what your gambling with. Your freedom or money or … committing crimes...you've done amazing starting over since Mom died. And I'm...proud...of you for all the charity work."
"I'm proud of you too. Let's go home to Sam and see about getting our lives back together."
Hugging his son, Patrick Rebny glanced up at them and mouthed "Thank You."
Peter nodded and nudged Neal. "Let's go."
They rode back to the office in near silence for a time.
Peter finally broke it. "So, do you still think it was wrong for him to lie to his kids to save them and the charity?"
"Mm." Neal looked uncertain. "Well, they are still kids." Which wasn't really an answer.
"Uh huh." Peter was still looking sideways at him. "Not quite grown up yet. Makes you want to protect them."
"Are you trying to tell me something?"
"No, Peter Pan. I'd never try and keep something from you for your own protection because I'm afraid you'll be too tempted and wind up back in prison."
Neal stared at him, eyes narrowed..
"And by the way, would you like to buy the Brooklyn Bridge?" Peter added.
Neal 's eyes widened, the corner of his lip started to curl up. Peter was smiling. Neal gave in and smiled back, shaking his head. "Nope. I heard it's too expensive to maintain. However if you already own it...I have a toll booth to sell you."
"Let me guess. It came fully loaded with coins but you gave them all to the poor..."
Neal and Peter both laughed.
The End