Peter finished his report on the incident from the night before and got up to pour himself a cup of coffee. As he stood up, he stretched, feeling the tension in his back ease a little. It had been a long night, and it extended into the morning without any sort of break.
"Hey, Peter," Jones asked as he came up to his boss. "You alright? I heard what happened last night."
Burke nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Thanks for asking."
"Anytime."
Burke's phone started ringing. He didn't recognize the number, and he felt a little uneasy as he answered it. "Burke," he said shortly.
"Agent Burke. How nice to hear your voice again," a slimy voice replied from the other end of the call.
"Who is this?" Peter asked angrily. Jones gave him a questioning look.
"Agent Burke, I'm hurt. You don't remember me?"
"Give me a name, I'm sure I'll remember you once I know who's calling."
"No names yet, Peter, that would be no fun. We'll see each other soon though, I promise. I just have one question for you: Do you know where Neal is?"
Peter's blood ran cold. "What have you done with Neal?" At that, Jones really started to look worried. "Put Neal on the phone now!"
"Sorry Peter, no conversations yet."
"Listen to me, if you hurt Neal, I swear I will hunt you down and make you pay, you son of-"
"Now now, Peter. You wouldn't want me to get upset and do something rash to Neal, would you?" The silence from the FBI agent was the only answer the unidentified caller needed. "I'll be in touch. Ciao!" The line went dead and Peter immediately hurried out the glass doors, going to the elevator.
"Jones, I need you to track this number; find out anything you can about it. Who bought it, where they're at, anything you can get. Let Hughes know what's going on as well."
"Sure thing, but Peter. What is going on?"
"I think someone's kidnapped Neal." Peter got on the elevator, giving Jones one last order before the doors closed. "Track Neal's anklet and see where he is; we haven't been notified of it being cut, so we assume he still has it on and it's still transmitting. Find out anything you can, and get a team together. If you can find where the maniac is, let me know." Jones nodded, and Peter let the elevator doors slide shut.
The elevator reached ground level a few minutes later and Peter walked out. He opened the front doors of the federal building and pulled out his phone, intending to call Neal, but an incoming call from Jones stopped him. "Jones, you have something already?"
"Just Caffrey's location. Peter, his anklet is saying he's at Central Park. Why would he be being held there?"
Peter had been walking down the street, but when he heard Neal's location he stopped. "He wouldn't be held there. Unless…" Peter had the bad feeling that something wasn't right. Neal wouldn't be at Central Park if he were being held captive. That was too open, too public. Peter realized that it was a set up.
He felt a presence before he saw it, whirling around to face his attacker right as a sharp pain entered his stomach. He grunted, grabbing hold of the arm of the person who had just stabbed him. He stared into the eyes of someone who looked very familiar. He heard Jones calling out on the other end of the line.
"Peter? Peter can you hear me? What's going on? Peter!"
Peter gasped in agony as the knife was pulled out of his stomach and he collapsed to the ground, clutching at his wound trying to slow the bleeding. He had dropped his phone when he fell, and he saw his attacker bend down and pick it up, disconnecting the call with Jones and running away.
He felt himself going numb as he heard screams to call an ambulance, then he felt gentle hands turning him over and applying pressure to his wound. He closed his eyes for a moment, opening them up again to find Jones in his vision. He could tell Jones was trying to talk to him, but he couldn't focus on or hear anything that was going on. He tried to stay awake, but the blackness beckoning at the edge of his vision finally won the battle for his attention.
I'm sorry, I know it's short, but more is coming, I promise!