Unintended Consequences

DISCLAIMER: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA Network.

[Jones] sneezed again and at the same time felt a vibration on his hip, not realizing until it vibrated again that it was his cell phone ringing. [He] looked at the caller ID.

'Oh, great, he thought, what does Neal need now?'

Chapter 17

Several minutes earlier…

Peter had finished his coffee and scone, but Neal still had some coffee, two bites of his scone left and his eyes were closed again. Peter wasn't sure if Neal was actually sleeping or just trying to avoid having a conversation with him. He reached over and tapped Neal lightly on the shoulder.

"We should get going."

Neal didn't move or respond.

"Leaving so soon, Agent Burke? You know, I've heard your pet con really needs his beauty sleep."

Peter looked up in surprise as it was not Neal's voice that had responded; instead it was the man with the coffee mug in his hand who had earlier asked if he could sit in the nearby plush chair.

"How do you know my name? I don't know yours."

Peter was beginning to feel a knot developing in the pit of his stomach; something was wrong. He was positive he had not introduced himself and definitely not as an FBI agent. How did this person know who he was?

"My name is not important, but I would like you to meet an acquaintance of mine."

The man with the coffee mug indicated another man standing off to Peter's right. Peter looked over and noticed a rather large man who had moved his jacket slightly to reveal a weapon in his holster.

"Now that we have your attention, we are only interested in the painting. We have been tracking Frank for quite a while. We heard rumors about him having possession of the painting. We saw him coming out of a certain mansion with said object and we eventually tracked it to your house, but we were unable to secure it at that point. Just as a little extra incentive, we've also tracked down Frank's wife in case you decide not to be cooperative. A little birdie who was most informative told us that Frank's wife just happens to be your long lost sister. We would have liked to see your wife as well, Agent Burke, just to sweeten the pot, but she seems to have disappeared. Even more interesting is your relationship with this criminal. Why would he be involved with this painting, and why did it mysteriously disappear at your house?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Peter wasn't about to admit to anything just yet; almost no one knew he had a sister, so he had no idea how they would have figured it out unless Frank had bragged years ago when he and Grace were first married. Peter quickly realized these guys must be the original accomplices from the Vermeer theft and had been unintentionally tracking the fake believing it to be the original. Frank must have realized someone was on to him. He was more than likely desperate for quick money and ditched his wife because she would slow him down. Peter also surmised that Frank was a fan of Genghis Khan, "It is not sufficient that I succeed – all others must fail." The gruff looking body guard finally cleared his thought with a deep cough and spoke; his tone leaving no room for argument.

"We know Caffrey lives at that mansion that we saw Frank leave from with the painting. We were able to track Caffrey here. We know he's been working with Frank. We were hoping he could lead us to the painting. Through our research we discovered that he also works for you and you just happened to be related to Frank. It's a small world after all isn't it?"

Neal opened his eyes feeling the urge to state the obvious. He hadn't really been sleeping; he just wanted a few more minutes to close his eyes and rest. The additional benefit, of course, was to annoy Peter, but listening to the conversation, he could sense things were getting tense.

"You do know I'm sitting here, right? I'm not deaf."

The man with the coffee who had yet to be identified raised his index finger indicating he wanted silence.

"We just wanted you both to know that we know who you are and we know how you both operate. Now, we don't need to use force unless you refuse to go along with our demands. So, Mr. Caffrey, now that you're awake, we want to deal with you. Here's the plan. We keep your FBI friend and we'll release him in return for the Vermeer painting. You don't come through; your friend here will not be a happy camper."

"Who said he was my friend? One less FBI Agent in my life would make things a whole lot easier. Where were you guys 5 years ago when I really needed you?"

Neal chuckled attempting to insert some humor into the otherwise tense situation.

"We weren't born yesterday. We've been studying you and your partner long enough to know that you seem to work well together, although we haven't figured out why. Let's see how good you are apart."

"I'm confused. Is that supposed to be some kind of incentive for me to bring you the painting? You think I want to work with him? If you knew me at all, you would know the real reason I escaped and it wasn't to work with him."

"Ah, yes, the lovely Kate. We did hear about that tragic end and that you have not been quite yourself since."

"That may be true, but obviously you know my reputation. I'm not about to confess to anything I may or may not have done in my past, so I'm not sure why you think I would turn over a multi-million dollar painting in exchange for an FBI Agent. I need a better incentive if you want my help. I know you've been looking for this painting for close to 20 years, so perhaps this can be a win-win situation for both of us. I give you something you want, and you help me with something I want."

Neal flashed his mega-watt smile with just the right hint of confidence with an overlay of superiority.

The man took a few sips of the coffee letting total silence dominate for at least a minute before he looked over at his partner/bodyguard. Neal could see the wheels turning as the man analyzed the different angles of Neal's proposal. Neal was certain they wanted the painting bad enough to be willing to negotiate for a few pieces of information about the heist itself. Now, if only Peter didn't have it in his head to somehow kill him before he could pull this off, Neal felt he could possibly get both of them out of this alive. The man with the coffee mug finally looked back at Neal.

"What is it that you want?"

Neal looked quickly over at Peter trying to gauge his attitude. Neal feared that as soon as he started talking, daggers would be flying out of Peter's eyes. He knew Peter could possibly ruin his impromptu plan to get them out of this mess.

"I may or may not be planning a little heist of my own, and I am curious as to how you pulled off the Gardner robbery. My reputation has taken a bit of a hit after getting caught, and I am attempting to resurrect it. As you can probably imagine, the arrangement with Agent Burke has caused me no small amount of embarrassment and I am interested in pursuing other options. However, being on the FBI payroll does have certain investigative advantages that would help me find this painting, so I don't necessarily want to burn those bridges by having my handler killed or otherwise disposed of. Being on the run from the FBI, as I am sure you well know, isn't all it's cracked up to be. I need to appear to be the hero and 'save' Agent Burke from certain death. I do have a certain image to maintain with them as well. I'm sure you know how important perception is, even if it's not based in reality. I just need one last score to set myself up for life. You know, nice beach house in the Cayman's without worrying about being chased by the Feds. I could settle down, start over, find a wife, have a family, make a pot roast or two…maybe even have a dog."

Neal was hoping that his mention of Peter's famous pot roast and alluding to Satch would clue Peter in that this was a con, but he couldn't really turn to see Peter's expression at the moment.

"Let me get this straight, you a famous conman, thief and forger want our advice?"

"I think I've gotten a bit rusty, I've been in prison for 4 years and I am a big fan of your work; completely mind-blowing. I don't want advice from any low-life on the street; I want your advice. I can find the painting and we can swap heist stories, maybe I can even clue you in on what it's like working for the FBI. You know what they say, 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and I have to admit I was totally impressed with your heist'. I'd love to share strategies."

Neal's tone had turned into one of boyish exuberance. Peter had heard the reference Neal had made in regard to the pot roast and Satch and figured Neal was trying to clue him in that he wasn't really planning anything like that. Looking at Neal's face, Peter was convinced that Neal was completely interested in learning their secrets instead of just trying to feign interest to get what he wanted. Peter realized Neal had that same goofy look on his face when they went to interview Tulane, a suspect in the heist of the pink diamond, whom Neal regarded as a legend. It didn't take much to see that Neal was completely impressed with this robbery as well.

"You really are one of the most interesting people I've met, Mr. Caffrey. If you can get us the painting, we'll talk - away from your Fed friend. You have until noon tomorrow to find the painting; your friend stays with us."

The bodyguard moved closer to Peter with an intimidating glare, once again inching his jacket back to reveal the gun. Peter didn't comment as he stood up, put his coat on and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The bodyguard relaxed his expression as he looked at Peter with the slightest hint of sympathy.

"I don't know what you see in this guy to have let him out of jail, but let's hope he's as good as he says he is. If he doesn't find the painting, well, I can't guarantee your safety."

Peter wasn't sure how to take that comment and was mentally preparing for the inevitable capture. He hadn't come up with any good alternative strategies and he was really feeling naked and defenseless without his gun. It did seem strange though that both men seemed to prefer this low key style of intimidation with only the hints of force and not actually brandishing a weapon. Peter had a sudden inspiration. It might not change his situation, but it just might give Neal the edge he needed. He turned quickly, taking his hands out of his pockets. Before the bodyguard could reach him, Peter grabbed one of Neal's hands with both of his own.

"Think about what you're doing, Neal. I trust you to do what's right."

Neal almost responded with a bitter derogatory comment, in keeping with his double-crossing character, when Neal felt Peter press keys into his hand. He looked into Peter's eyes and was profoundly relieved to see confidence, as opposed to fear, had taken up residence there. Neal looked back and tried to convey the same confidence that he wouldn't let Peter down - no matter what happened.

A moment later, the bodyguard pulled Peter's hands away. Neal quickly closed his to conceal the keys and watched helplessly as the bodyguard grabbed Peter's wrist and led him toward the door; the few occupants of the café never even noticing what had happened.

The other man finally relinquished his grip on the coffee mug and set it down on the small table next to the chair. He slowly reached into his jacket pocket with his other hand raised to show Neal he wasn't going for a gun. His hand reappeared with what Neal presumed was a burner phone.

"Use speed dial number 1 when you find the painting. You have until noon tomorrow."

Neal watched as the man left and slid the burner phone in his pocket. He pulled out his own cell phone and dialed Jones.