Neal was taking his turn, trying to be very agent-like and actually keep his attention on the monitor. After all, it wasn't all that long ago that no one would have trusted him to watch the video feed. He liked the trust, and didn't want to screw it up. So if that meant staring at a flickering screen, and actually paying attention, he could do that. Hell, he could do pretty much anything he ever set his mind on.
"Uh… hey." He straightened up in his chair, pointing at the screen. "I think that's Polson."
Jones and Diana crowded in close over his shoulder. "Looks like it," Jones agreed.
"And that case is about the right size for the art," Diana pointed out.
"He looks nervous enough too," Neal said. "Amateur."
"Well, they can't all be as cool as you when meeting a fence," Jones said with a grin.
"Allegedly," Neal added. "Allegedly meeting with a fence. And if I ever had done something like that, I would definitely not have been so obviously nervous."
"Probably wouldn't have done it at a corner convenience store either," Diana guessed.
Neal's answer was emphatic. "Now that goes without saying."
Jones leaned in closer, pointing at the screen. "That car is slowing down."
"Third time going by too," Neal confirmed.
Diana stared at him. "You didn't say anything?"
Neal just shrugged. "Twice, could be the guy is just lost. Three times, probably not." He took a turn pointing to the screen. "Stopping, just around the corner."
Jones pulled a chair closer. "OK, now we need to watch for something that looks like an exchange."
"I hope he's got all the art with him," Diana said, leaning closer. "I'd like to wrap this up."
"Well, at least I don't think we have to worry about forgeries," Neal said brightly.
"Not good enough?" Jones guessed.
"These artists aren't well known enough to make it worthwhile," Neal replied. "It has nothing to do with being good."
"Think these artists have a chance of getting there?" Diana asked.
Neal shrugged. "From the photos of the missing art… maybe. The Kendalls are pretty good landscapes. But Bryson? Doesn't really have the technique to be one of the greats."
Jones looked over at him. "What about this Neal Caffrey guy? He have the technique to be one of the greats?"
Diana nodded. "Yeah, when do we get to see an original Caffrey work, other than a sketch?"
"Copying is easier," Neal said, not really answering.
But Diana refused to be put off so easily. "Come on, Neal. You should do a painting. I mean, I've seen your sketches. That bridge scene you did in the hotel was brilliant. You should paint it."
"Maybe someday," Neal said, his voice vague. Then he looked at the monitor again and groaned. "No. No, not the exchange from an open car trunk!"
Jones laughed as he checked to make sure his weapon was ready. "Face it, my man. Not everyone can have the style thing going."
"Obviously not," Neal grumbled.
"All right, Jones and I will handle the takedown," Diana said, her voice all authority now. "I don't think we'll have any trouble with these two, but you need to monitor closely. You know what to do if the bust goes bad?"
Neal saluted and pointed at the phone. "9-1-1. I got it."
Diana nodded to Jones and they headed for the door. "Let's do it."
Peter stared at the file in shock, barely even hearing Hughes still speaking at the front of the room.
No, this couldn't be for real. There was no way this could be happening. Didn't people realize what they had here? How much they had accomplished – and could accomplish in the future? And what about the promises that had been made…
His hand shot straight up into the air, daring Hughes to ignore him.
And finally, the older man had no choice. "Yes, Peter."
"This has to be a mistake."
Hughes sighed. "It was messengered to my house, late last night, direct from Quantico. I don't think it's a mistake."
"Then they don't understand the repercussions," Peter continued. "They can't."
Blakely cleared his throat. "Seems pretty clear to me," he said. "The discretionary fund for confidential informants gets limits. We know the economy means less money, and the cuts have to come somewhere."
Peter glared at the man, taking a personal victory when the other man looked back down at the folder on the table. "Our CIs get results. If we can't pay them…"
"It doesn't say that, Burke," one of the other agents argued. "It just puts limits on what can be paid to each CI. This makes…"
Another glare, and the speaker shut up. "This includes consultants," Peter said, almost too quietly for those who knew him.
Hughes sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Yes, Peter, I know that."
"What about Caffrey?"
Hughes dropped into a chair before answering. "As of January 1, there is no money to continue his position here."
Peter forced himself to take a deep breath before speaking. "To continue his position? You mean his position helping us clear more cases than we've ever cleared before? His position where we ask him to put his life on the line, with no training and no weapon? His position that he's in because of promises that were made on both sides?" His voice was rising, and he finally had to take a breath.
Hughes stood up and leaned across the table. "I understand all of that, Peter. Believe it or not, I can read and comprehend. I think there are still a lot of open questions on this." He took a deep breath, retaking control of himself and the meeting. "We'll discuss specifics later. Now, does anyone else have questions?"
Silence hung heavily around the room, and to Peter it felt like a weight pressing down on his shoulders.
"All right, let's call it a day," Hughes said wearily. "Recommendations for your departments, based on what we've covered today, are due back to me no later than the fifteenth. And please, have mercy on an old man and get them in early if possible."
The room came alive then, as the agents stood, gathered their files and assorted coffee mugs and soda bottles, and then filed out…
All except one.
Peter waited for the last person to leave, and then he closed the door before turning to face Hughes. "Reese…"
Hughes held up a hand, shaking his head. "Peter, I don't know. I don't know why this decision was made, or who made it. I told you, I just found out late last night myself. And I've been trying to get answers all day, with no luck."
Well, that explained all the phone calls. "Reese, someone has to listen. We've made a deal with Caffrey, a commitment. He's more than lived up to his end." Well, a few hiccups here and there, but that wasn't important now. "How…" He took a deep breath, shaking his head. "How do I tell him that after everything he's done, he's going back to prison because of budget cuts?"
Hughes shook his head and stood up, starting to gather his papers. "Don't tell him anything yet," he said firmly. "Sooner or later, someone has to take my calls." He walked down to the other end of the table, leaning his hip against the edge. "Look, Peter, I understand. I really do. You know that I was skeptical when you first wanted to bring Caffrey in. And even you have to admit there have been a few bumps."
Peter sighed and nodded. "Yeah, a few." A few bumps, a few mountains to climb… And ever since the major bump with Fowler and the gun, Neal's work had been even more outstanding, and his forays outside the lines kept to a minimum.
"Well, despite that," Hughes continued, "I know what an asset he's been. But we have four months to try and get this decision changed, or find another funding source. Or… I don't know what. The point is, we have some time to explore options."
"And in the meantime I just keep asking him to risk himself for us?"
"Do you really think he'd do better knowing? You think he wants to go back to prison now instead of giving us a chance to work something out?"
"Reese, he's a known FBI informer. There are a lot of people in prison now at least partially thanks to his work. If he goes back…"
"Four months, Peter," Hughes repeated, leaning over to lay a hand on the younger agent's shoulder. "I'm not saying don't tell him for four months, Peter. I'm saying let's just take a little time and see what we can find out. You know how decisions sometimes get made. Left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing and all."
"Yeah." Peter sighed, working his jaw back and forth. He looked down onto the main floor just in time to see the door open as Jones, Diana, and Neal walked in. They were laughing about something. "Looks like a successful day," he said softly.
"I wouldn't doubt it," Hughes agreed just as softly. "This isn't over, Peter, not by a long shot. Caffrey's one of us – and believe me, not long ago those are words I never thought I'd hear myself say. We're not done fighting."
Peter nodded and stood up. "Thanks, Reese." He picked up the budget files. "I'll go through these, see what ideas I can find."
"Let me know."
Peter opened the door and walked out, stopping briefly in his office to drop the files off before heading down to the bullpen. He found he was actually shaking and he stopped, taking a deep breath. This might take a con worthy of Neal's talents to not just fall apart and blurt out the bad news.
The others were still laughing as he approached. "Does this mean you caught Polson?"
Jones nodded. "Got him, in possession of the stolen art. Got The Arranger too," he added, laughing.
"Not exactly fence of the century?" Peter guessed.
"Janitor at an art academy," Diana supplied. "Figured that made him an authority."
"Well, maybe not desperados from the Top 10 list, but good job anyway," Peter said. He nodded his head in Neal's direction, not able to look the other man in the eye yet. "This guy behave?"
Jones and Diana shared a conspiratorial look. "Only had to put him in cuffs three times," Jones deadpanned.
"Sat on him once," Diana added.
"Locked him in the supply cabinet…"
Neal held his hands up to the sky in exasperation. "Hey, guys? I'm right here, you know." He shook his head and sighed theatrically. "And this after I sprang for lunch."
"Lunch was very good," Diana admitted.
"Way better than deviled ham," Jones added with a smirk.
"Yeah, yeah, go ahead, make fun," Peter said, wishing he could truly feel the joviality he was trying to portray. "But deviled ham helped make me what I am today."
He could only scowl as that statement made the other three break out into laughter.
"Fine, fine." He finally chanced a look at Neal. "I hope you enjoy walking home tonight."
"Actually, we were talking about going out for a drink," Jones said.
Diana nodded. "You should come along, Peter. I'm sure you could use one about now."
"I found this great new place," Neal said. "A wine list to die for… and they have beer too."
"No, not tonight." He couldn't spend time with Neal right now, not without thinking about the meeting, and what might happen. "I've got some work to finish up. You guys go ahead, have a good time." He started for his office, then stopped and turned back. "Really good work."
He was almost to the stairs when he knew someone was behind him.
"Peter, is something wrong?"
Leave it to the ultimate con man to see through his ruse.
Peter turned around, offering a tired smile. "I got to spend all day in a budget meeting. What could be wrong?"
The look on Neal's face clearly said he wasn't convinced. "Peter, if there's something I can do…"
"There is." Peter took the younger man by the shoulders and turned him around, giving a gentle nudge toward the door where Diana and Jones were waiting. "Go. Have fun. I'll see you tomorrow."
It was late when he got home. He'd planned it that way, not wanting to face any questions.
Not wanting to have to face El and lie.
The house was quiet and dark as he let himself in. Of course, that only seemed to magnify the sound associated with every move he made as he kicked his shoes off and started up the stairs.
He really needed to fix that third step, the one that creaked every time someone put weight on it. And why hadn't he remembered that it did that, before he stepped on it now…
Trying to minimize the disturbance, Peter walked past the master bedroom and down to the guest room. He slipped out of his clothes, stripping down to his boxers and leaving everything else spread out on the bed. He could put the clothing away in the morning, when he wouldn't be disturbing anyone.
It made him just a little nervous to leave his gun there. But the gun safe in the bedroom tended to make a loud clicking sound when it was opened – not good for stealth. Something he had always wondered about. If someone was breaking into his home, and he wanted to get his gun out quietly, the safe made it nearly impossible. Wasn't that giving the bad guys an unfair advantage?
He wandered into the guest bathroom and picked up his toothbrush. This wasn't exactly the first time he'd come home way too late, so he always kept an extra one in there. He brushed, and flossed, and then looked into the mirror, staring at his reflection.
"Don't tell Neal anything yet," he whispered to himself. "And how do I pull that off?"
Unfortunately, his mirror image didn't have an answer to that question either.
Peter flipped off the light and padded barefoot down to the bedroom. At least they had invested in one of those high quality foam mattresses, the ones with the commercials where someone jumped on one side and the glass of wine didn't spill on the other. El had never wanted to test that out, but he did have to admit that it was comfortable – and it did offer the advantage of very little movement when one of them tossed and turned, or snuck into bed late.
He was just congratulating himself on his stealthy work when El's voice told him he hadn't succeeded after all.
"Honey? It's really late."
"I know," he whispered, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"What time is it?" she asked, yawning.
"A little after midnight."
"Midnight?" She turned to face him, the concern on her face evident even in the dim glow of the moonlight that snuck in the front window. "Is something wrong?"
"Just a late night," he whispered, counting on the semi darkness to hide the lie in his eyes. "Nothing to worry about."
"You're all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Sick to his stomach over what he learned today, but other than that…
"Is Neal all right?"
Well, Neal had been the cause of a number of other late nights, hadn't he. "Neal's fine." At least for a while. "El, I was just stuck in that budget meeting all day, and things piled up. I'm sorry I'm so late."
"You're sure nothing's wrong?"
"I'm sure." Other than the fact that I might lose my friend, the best partner I've ever had, to budget cuts. And there was just a bad feeling about this, like something more was involved.
"All right."
He curled up next to her, pulling her in tightly as he wrapped his arms around her. "I love you, you know."
"Mmmmm, I know."
They snuggled in together, finally reaching the position that was a favorite for both of them. El had her back to him, spooned in tightly against his body. He had her head on one arm, the other arm wrapped gently over her hip.
Within a few minutes, he could tell that her breathing changed, and that she was asleep.
But he lay awake long after she slept, thinking. Many times before, answers had come to him in the stillness of the night.
This was not one of those times.