Peter groaned. Could Neal have had worse news?
"Are you sure?" He asked, though he knew Neal was.
"Of course I'm sure. What self-respecting art thief would pass up on that?"
"I didn't know there were self-respecting art thieves." Neal pretended to look offended and Peter laughed. "Well, Hughes won't be happy to hear that."
"But he'd rather be hearing it today before it happened than tomorrow after." Neal pointed out. Peter nodded in agreement.
"Well, finish your lunch. We'd better get back and come up with something."
Back at the office, they worked to create a plan of action. Hughes sat at the head of the table, looking over the case file as the room fell silent, all present trying to think of what to do next. Finally, someone spoke.
"We could have a team in place in the Guggenheim tonight. Get the security guards out of the way, keep everyone safe." Jones offered.
"They're armed too." Agent Cruz pointed out. "The last thing we need is a gun fight in the Guggenheim." The others nodded in agreement.
"Well, we need to come up with something and soon." Hughes stated authoritatively.
"You need someone inside." Neal began.
"I believe we had all reached that conclusion, Caffrey. However, we also agreed that we don't need a fire-fight either."
"What if we set up a unit outside?" Peter suggested. "Station a team somewhere outside the building, wait for them to come out."
"Why not on the way in?" Jones asked.
"They'd be more likely to expect it then. While they're leaving, they'll be thinking they've gotten away with it. It'll be easier to catch them off guard." Rationalized Cruz, looking at Peter for approval. He nodded, biting his lip in concentration.
"It would be easier if you had someone on the inside." Neal said again. Peter glared at his friend. "What? Someone who could let you know where they were going to come out. In case you guys hadn't noticed, this isn't a little building. There're a lot of places to exit. A lot more if you're willing to break a few windows."
"And who would we send in?" Hughes asked dully, looking very nearly fed up with the consultant.
"Me, of course. Unless you have anyone else who has snuck into the Guggenheim before." Peter groaned into his hands.
"Neal, what makes you think that's any safer than sending a whole team in? Or just one of us?"
"A team of you would be too obvious. And even one of you wouldn't be quiet enough. Trust me," He looked meaningfully at Peter "I'd know." Peter closed his eyes, remembering one of the many times they'd almost caught Neal.
"Neal, that's too danger-"
"We'll do it" Peter was interrupted by his superior. He turned to stare at Hughes, trying to hide a disbelieving look.
"Sir, don't you think this might be too dangerous? Neal isn't an agent, he's a consultant." Hughes nodded.
"Normally, I would agree with you, Burke. But we have limited time for this and to be fair, Caffrey's snuck around more museums than I'm ready to acknowledge." Peter sighed. He knew that, tactically at least, this decision was reasonable. The part of him that thought of Neal as a close friend had trouble thrusting him into danger like this, though. "He'll be wired and we will have at least four teams outside. Caffrey," He addressed the former thief suddenly. "If anything goes wrong, you let us know immediately. No one is going to get hurt tonight." The last sentence was mostly for the comfort of Agent Burke, who looked opposed to the idea.
As the agents left the office, each off to prepare for that night's operation, Peter grabbed Neal's arm, leading him off to the side.
"What were you thinking?" He hissed.
"It's the only thing we can do on short notice."
"We could think of something else…Are you sure you can do this?" Neal's face flushed at the question. He lifted his chin, maintaining his dignity despite his colored cheeks.
"I'm fine, Peter." Peter shook his head vehemently.
"I don't like it. It's not safe, and you're not 'fine'. Stop kidding yourself, Neal."
"I think I can decide if I'm ok or not. And this is safer than a lot of things I've done before. I'll be alright." Neal turned and walked away, not willing to argue further.
'You didn't have me before' Peter almost said, watching his partner, his friend, walk off. He couldn't put it into words, but he felt the need to protect Neal. Especially lately. Neal hurting, physically or emotionally, wasn't something he could stand to see. It reminded of the rare occasions when El would cry; he didn't know what to do, but he wanted to do something. He sighed, shaking his head at himself for becoming so attached to a con-artist.
He walked in to his office, smiling at the sight of the consultant bent over paper work, tongue sticking out in concentration.
"Neal?" He looked up.
"Yeah?"
"I'm…I'm sure you'll do fine tonight." Neal smiled brightly at the compliment.
"Well, I know I'll have great back-up." Peter grinned back.
"Just don't do anything stupid. Don't get caught."
"It takes a lot to catch me. You should know. You're the only one that has."
"Twice." Peter smirked.
"Yeah, well don't brag. That second time was a gimme."
"Alright. If you say so."
The two men lapsed into silence, pretending to busy themselves with things that really could have waited a day or two. Peter glanced at Neal, watching him out of the corner of his eye.
"I'm not going anywhere." Neal finally grumbled.
"Hm?" Peter pretended he didn't know what his partner was talking about.
"You keep looking at me like I'm a flight risk. I'm not going anywhere."
"I was not."
"Well, I guess my charm's just irresistible, and you can't keep your eyes off me." Neal laughed, leaning back in his chair. Peter rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, I'm sure that's it."
"You know, this won't be the first time I've been in a Guggenheim."
"Which one have you been to?" Peter was fairly certain Neal hadn't stolen from a Guggenheim before.
"Only two. The one in Berlin and the one in Venice. That one in Venice…that's the greatest heist never told."
"Oh, really?"
"Not that I was involved, of course. But I heard a story of a thief, who forged the documentation to get a job there as security."
"Oh, did you now?" Peter was trying hard not to sound amused. Really, he should be upset this was never reported to him, but sometimes Neal's cleverness was something to be admired.
"Yeah. And then this thief, he forged the painting he intended to steal. And one night, while working his shift, he replaced the original with the fake. And the staff was none the wiser."
"And what did this thief do with the painting?"
"Well, he sold it, of course. And then he quit working there, I believe. I don't think anyone was ever the wiser." Peter shook his head.
"You're something else, Neal."
"It wasn't me, remember? I only heard the story." He tried to look innocent, but Peter could only laugh.
"Alright. Well, no stealing from this Guggenheim. You're working for the FBI now."
"How could I forget?" Neal leaned back in his seat as the men continued to chat, paperwork-and argument- forgotten.
That night, in the parking lot of the coffee shop across from the Museum, Peter tested the sound equipment before giving it to Neal. The older man was nervous; more nervous than he would have been if he was the one sneaking in. He watched as Hughes went over protocol with Neal again, stressing that if anything seemed off, he could call off the op and all teams would rush in. Once Hughes walked away, Peter approached him.
"You sure you wanna do this?"
"I was sure the first million times you asked." He muttered softly, fiddling with the earpiece and microphone he had been given.
"Neal." He put a hand on the young man's shoulder, drawing his attention. "Please, be careful." Peter didn't care that he sounded desperate.
"What do you think I'm going to do? This isn't the first time I've done something like this." Neal tugged on the sleeves of his black sweat-shirt, unwilling to meet Peter's eyes.
"You've just been through a lot lately. I don't want you to push yourself too hard."
"Did El put you up to this?" Neal asked, looking up as he pulled on a dark stocking hat, his wavy hair disappearing beneath it. Peter exhaled heavily.
"Would it matter if she did?" In reality, Peter hadn't told El about this case. If she knew what Neal was preparing to do, she'd probably shoot Peter herself.
"Maybe." Neal knew that El hadn't been the reason for this worry, though. Peter seemed to be doing that all on his own.
The fact that Peter cared about him was reassuring, making Neal feel a little safer. He also knew that Peter's concerns weren't completely unfounded, either. Ever since losing Kate, he'd been off his game. Not that he would ever admit that to himself though, let alone to Peter. Neal looked up at the agent, feeling a little guilty for the expression on Peter's face. He looked worried and maybe a little put-off by Neal's attitude.
"I'll be careful. Don't worry. In a few hours, I'll be back to driving you crazy." He said with a grin, bouncing on the balls of his feet for emphasis. Peter couldn't help but smile.
"Alright." Neal bounced a little more, almost as though he was warming up for a race. Finally, Hughes gave the signal and Neal left, stealing away into the night, disappearing against the darkness. After a minute, they heard his voice over the speaker.
"I'm in. This is easier than I remember." He chuckled.
"Probably because you didn't have a key last time."
"Oh, the key. I think I left that with you, Peter." Neal's voice was bright and cheerful for the first time in weeks.
"No, I gave it to you."
"Check your wallet." Peter rolled his eyes, but under the curious eyes of his junior agents, he complied, pulling his wallet out. When he opened it, the key fell out onto his lap. Even Hughes smiled. Suddenly the radio crackled.
"Team 2. A dark blue ford drove past twice and just pulled up about half a block down from the building. I think these might be our guys." A brief pause before they continued. "Subjects confirmed. Three adult males, dressed in dark clothing. They have guns. Looks like they are making for the southeast entrance."
"You copy, Neal?"
"Loud and clear. I'll be ready and waiting." Time seemed to be at a standstill as Peter stared at the radio, willing someone to speak.
"Team 2. Subjects have broken the door and entered." Everyone tensed. The radio remained quiet, no word coming from the inside.
Neal crouched low against a dark wall, watching the southeastern door as the thieves broke the lock, letting themselves in. If any security guards had been present, they surely would have heard it over much of the museum. However, if the three men noticed, they didn't let on. Neal followed them silently through the museum until they reached the desired exhibit. Watching from behind a staircase, he flinched when they began to roughly remove the works, not seeming to be too interested in their continued preservation. After watching them for a little while, he became aware that there were only two. Panic rushed through him as he heard footsteps above him.
"There ain't anybody here." The gruff voice grunted.
"There's gotta be somebody."
"Well, there ain't. I didn't see no body."
"Maybe you wasn't looking close enough."
"Well, why don't you go do it, then?" Finally the third man spoke.
"Why don't both of ya shut up?"
"Yeah, boss" Both men replied, almost humorously meek. The boss continued. "No alarms have gone off, no guard here…Something isn't right."
"Maybe it's like that silent one they had in London." Offered one grunt. The three men stood in front of the painting they were forcibly removing from the wall deep in thought.
"Nah, we had guards within a couple minutes that time. I think this is a set-up"
"Well, what are we suppose ta do?"
"We've got plenty of ammunition." Neal keyed his mic, hoping the device would pick up some of the conversation.
"So, we just gonna shoot up the place?" Peter heard faintly over the radio.
"Shit!" He whispered. He stopped when the thieves spoke again.
"Not until we have to…Hold on-What was that?" Suddenly, Neal's feed went dead. Peter felt a cold sweat break out over his forehead. Hughes grabbed the radio.
"All teams move in. Possible breech. Take positions outside the building." Everyone poured out of the van. Peter could hardly breathe evenly. 'What has Neal gotten himself into?' He wondered.
The Neal's mic crackled a little with feedback. The attentions of the three men were suddenly directed towards the dark under the staircase.
"Guess were not alone after all." The man who seemed to be running the operation moved closer, shining his flash light ahead of him. Neal held up a hand in front of his face, closing his eyes against the light.
"Sorry, Peter." He whispered.
AN: I crunched the numbers. Less than 1% of people who read this review it. I hope the minority that reviews likes the story, which is benefiting from their input. The moral of this authors note: Don't be a statistic; be an improvement.
