Neal drove out to the docks in a "borrowed" U-haul, loaded up courtesy of Mozzie and fitted with a GPS tracking device under the axle courtesy of the FBI. He checked the clock—2:56—took a deep breath, and stepped out of the driver's seat, out onto the empty landing.
"And so we meet again," Keller's voice called out from behind him, and Neal turned toward the bane of his existence. "Right on time Neal," he smiled. "And the tracker?" The bastard asked, looking on curiously as Neal raised his pant leg to show a bare ankle. "Excellent. Good to know you can follow instructions. Okay; let's see it."
"Where's Elizabeth?" Neal demanded, holding his ground. He really hoped Peter could pull this off, because he felt like he was going to throw up.
Keller shook his head. "Uh uh—I told you: goods first, then your watchdog's missus. So go ahead and open her up."
The consultant glared at his rival, unmoving, and Keller pulled out his phone. "Really Caffrey?" he asked, smirking. "You want me to make the call that places you as the responsible party for the death of the wife of a federal agent? And not just any agent—your trusted partner?"
Neal finally shifted his feet, slowly making his way to the back of the truck. He slid open the door, displaying crate upon crate stamped with Nazi emblems across their old wooden construction, then turned back to face Keller, still glaring.
Keller grinned, waiting for Neal to move back down the ramp before climbing into the truck himself and pulling out a crowbar to open one of the larger containers. His eyes lit up as he caught sight of the gold-set ruby necklaces and other precious gems and jewelry hidden inside the nesting material that kept it insulated and safe.
"Goddamn," he murmured reverently, turning a large red pendant over in his hands. He turned to his nemesis. "It's nothing if not an overwhelming sensation, isn't it? To have everything you could possibly imagine in the palm of your hand."
Again he raised his gun, using it to gesture the CI further toward the side of the truck. The criminal's hand tilted the ruby again so it reflected the sunlight, then grinned. "You know, I might have you stick around a little longer- give me a guided tour through everything in this truck. You could think of it as one of those transference ceremonies."
Neal really wanted to punch the guy. "Sure," he replied, schooling his fury into a cool exterior. "I could start with that piece in your hand- how much time do we have before your guy gets here? Or did you want me to come with?"
Keller smiled. "Yeah right, Caffrey, and give you more time to try to pull one over on me? I've got a better idea." Letting his gaze shift from the man to his hand, the bastard watched Neal as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell, dialing a number he'd come to enjoy contacting over the last twenty-four hours.
Peter Burke was sitting in a daze on a car parked along the street. After being inside for so long, everyone had insisted he get some air, and he'd finally agreed. He stared at nothing in particular, feeling far away from everything, and slightly nauseous.
Suddenly, his burn phone began to buzz. His eyes flashed, and he put it to his ear. "Keller."
"Special Agent Burke," a sickly arrogant voice greeted him. "Do you have your personal phone with you? I'm sending you a special delivery."
Peter's cell buzzed and he flipped it open to find a picture of a U-haul illuminated with numerous crates he recognized from the Nazi sub.
"Hell of a day, huh Agent Burke?" the voice continued gleefully. "I mean, your wife's missing, and now you finally have proof that your partner's been keeping secrets all this time." He laughed. "Not just keeping secrets, but running around on you, big time. I mean, if your wife is anything like this, I might have to have another chat with her, you know?"
The agent's eyes blazed. "I'm going to catch you, you son of a bitch, and I'll have you begging for me to give you to the Russians before I lock you away—"
"Agent Burke—that is completely counterproductive," Keller responded cooly. "After all, it's not like you ever trusted me. But right here in front of me is the infamous Neal Caffrey, your partner, with billions in stolen Nazi treasure. I mean, how many times have you stuck out your neck for this guy, really? How many times have you put your badge, your life on the line for him? And all to find that he'd been playing you this for the entirety of your working relationship? That's got to sting. So, as a favor to you, I'm going to give you this option." Suddenly Peter's eyes went wide as he heard the click of a gun cocking over the phone. "A one time, backdoor kind of deal. Just be honest—I mean, do you really want him to just go back to prison, knowing full well that he could just escape, or do you just kinda wish he'd... drop dead for all the trouble he's caused you?"
"Keller—" Peter warned.
"No, seriously Peter—man to man. If it wasn't illegal or unethical or whatever rules hold you back. I mean, he betrayed your trust, caused the kidnapping of your wife. If it weren't for him, right now you'd be sitting at home with your lovely Elizabeth, drinking a beer, watching the game- maybe petting your dog, you know? Neal- he probably hasn't thought about anybody but himself since before the two of you met. Are you really telling me you wouldn't shoot Caffrey if you had the chance?"
Peter was in the entirely wrong part of the city, but he could see in his mind's eye Neal on the other end of the gun: hands open, slightly raised; brown curls tossing gently in the wind; blue eyes wide with uncertainty, pained, but still strong, as if he was just considering his next move; mouth open just a slit while he held his breath, waiting.
"Neal's a pain in the ass, Keller," the agent told him. "But he's my pain in the ass. He's my partner, and my friend; and if you shoot him—"
Suddenly, for the second time that day, Peter heard guns in the distance: his mouth dropped in horror as he heard two shots ring out through the phone before it suddenly disconnected.
"Neal? Neal!" He screamed, and Hughes ran from the entrance of the hospital where he'd stationed agents with Brooke and Elizabeth toward where Peter was still yelling into the phone.
"We've got shots fired, and Keller disconnected the line," he told his boss breathlessly, cursing himself for letting Neal meet up with the psycho. "Neal could be down. We've got to get over there."
"Rice and Barrigan should almost be there with the team," Hughes told him, sliding into the seat as Peter threw the car into drive.
The supervisor grabbed his radio and spoke urgently into the transmitter, "We've got gunfire at Caffrey's location at the docks. Caffrey's status is unknown. Call an ambulance for the area, and all units move now for back-up. Go! Go!" he ordered as the car screamed out of the parking lot.