White Collar: The Eye of Sita
Chapter Three
Peter left the hotel and took the stairwell so that Neal wouldn't have a chance to catch him waiting at the elevator. He knew that he was acting suspicious, but he honestly didn't care. Right now he just wanted someone to yell at and he knew if he didn't leave soon that Neal would end up the victim of his frustrated anger.
Getting to his car Peter tossed the case into the passenger side and drove off. Neal was right about the traffic. Sitting in the gridlock that surrounded the city Peter just became more agitated. The cherry trees were in full bloom, but their beauty was lost on him. He looked over at the case and felt his stomach knot with guilt.
"I should have just told him. If anyone can keep a secret..."
Peter just let the thought trail off. It was too late now and he had been given direct orders from the top to keep this from Neal. What bothered Peter the most was that he couldn't figure out what they wanted it for. All he knew was that being called down to Washington wasn't good for him, and certainly wasn't good for Neal.
"I swear to God if Walters is behind this I'm going to punch him in the face."
With his feathers fully ruffled by the time he made it to the Federal building Peter was forced to pause and take a few deep breaths. There was no sense in going in already upset and on the defensive. The game would already be lost if he let anyone know how annoyed he was.
Regaining his composure Peter got out of the car. With the case in hand he went to his old office on the tenth floor. It was just after five and a majority of the staff was either gone or packing up. It had been nearly a decade since Peter had stepped foot in the Washington office. The few faces from the old days looked up at him in surprise.
"Agent Burke?" A middle aged clerk asked as he approached. "It's been a long time. How's New York treating you?"
"Just fine, Paul." Peter replied as cordially as he could. "Where's Agent Kramer?"
"Agent Kramer is on an overseas assignment with Interpol."
"Of course he is." Peter sighed. "So who is in charge when he's away these days?"
"Agent Walters."
"Of course he is."
The clerk suddenly looked uncomfortable. Peter had not made friends in the Washington office the same way he had in New York. As a Junior Agent straight out of Quanitco he excelled as an Agent, but had no patients for the politics of rank and seniority. When Agent Kramer had taken him under his wing and promoted him to division lead it had just caused more discord among the other Art Crime Agents. At the top of his enemy list was an Agent four years his senior, Agent Walters.
"Is Walters still here?" Peter demanded.
"In his office, down the hall to the..."
"I know where it is."
Peter knew where Walter's office was because it had once been his own. Pushing past the clerk Peter made his way directly to Walter's office. None of the other employes that recognized Peter dared to stop him to chat. When Peter came to Walters' door it was close. He went to just open it when he realized that proper etiquette demanded that he knock. Taking another deep breath to calm himself Peter knocked on the door.
"Come in, Agent Burke." Walters called through the closed door.
"Clearly you were expecting me." Peter said as he came in and stood in front of Walters' desk.
"Yes, have a seat."
"I'm fine standing. I don't plan to stay long." Peter countered. "Why didn't you call me yourself? Why did you have the Director himself call me for this?"
"I think you know why." Walters said casually.
"I don't like being forced into lying and stealing, so this better be damn important."
"I assure you it is. Do you have what we asked for?"
"You think I would have driven all this way if I didn't?"
"Does Caffrey know?"
"No."
"Did you bring him along?"
"You know I had to." Peter growled. "I don't see why I had to make him think it was his idea."
"That's our business."
"It's dangerous to con conmen, they tend to figure it out pretty quickly."
"You two have gotten pretty close over the past few years haven't you?"
"That's our business." Peter spat Walters' own words back at him.
"You've changed, Burke." Walters smiled. "You used to see everything so black and white, I'm pleased to see that you can finally detect shades of gray."
"Can we get started on this?"
Peter dropped the case on Walters' desk and flicked the combination lock open. Inside was a traditional cylindrical art protector case. Peter opened the cylinder and carefully pulled out a rolled up canvas. Walters reached out to take the painting. Peter hesitated to give it to him.
"Burke, you want me to show you the warrant? I can. Or I could show it to Caffrey and head up to New York myself to tear his apartment apart to get what I need."
"Walte..."
"Lord knows what else I'll find while I'm at it." Walters said with a touch of menace. "Or you could quietly hand it over and keep your 'pet' from worrying about Art Crimes breathing down his neck for a few more days."
"There is nothing illegal about any of the paintings in his apartment."
"I know, and don't worry, I'll give it back to you. You can mail it back to your people and they can have it waiting for him back in his apartment when he gets home. He never has to know."
Backed into a corner Peter sighed and handed the painting over to Walters. He still didn't understand why the Director of the F.B.I was suddenly interested in Caffrey's work, or why they were going to such trouble to make sure Neal didn't know they were investigating him. Pawns were being put in place for some kind of attack. Peter hated being one of those pawns, but saying 'no' to the Director was the same as turning in his resignation.
Walters uncurled the oil painting and admired it. It was a peaceful sunset scene of some quaint village nestled into the foothills. The sky was teetering between day and night with a few bright stars showing themselves where the darkness was replacing the day. A modest church steeple dominated the center of the village, highlighted by the dying rays of light.
"It's breathtaking, I'd put it on my wall." Walters said honestly.
"It would clash with the 'Dogs Playing Poker' that I'm sure is there now."
"Funny." Walter said as he continued to inspect the painting. "Vermeer in its style, but more Rembrandt in its lighting and use of color. It's very good."
"There's no law against talent." Peter said defensively. "Why does Art Crimes want a sample of Neal's art?"
"Edmond Locard, a French forensic pioneer..."
"I know who Edmond Locard is." Peter growled.
"Well he once said that every contact leaves a trace. Now we had a new way of detecting that touch."
"Art fingerprinting? I thought that was still just a theory."
"We have a working software prototype that is showing amazing promise. Every artist, no matter who they are pretending to be, leaves traces: the angle that they hold their brush, the depth that they push the paint, the strength of their lines, even the way their saliva effects the paint when they put the brush between their lips to bring the brush to a fine point."
"Too many variables. The program would be too complex to be accurate. When a forger attempts a work they take the original artist's style into account and it changes the variables."
"It does, but the underlying details can't be changed. Every artist leaves their own particular mark and we're going to prove it. We recently acquired seven paintings that are suspected of being done by Caffrey."
"This is a waste of everyone's time, Walters." Peter growled. "You are never going to get a conviction with technology this new. I don't care what your science geeks say, you still can't prove any of what you have is Neal's work."
"You're right." Walters agreed. "But we can certainly turn up the pressure on him. If I can trace even one of these paintings back to Caffrey's hand I can make his life very difficult."
"Walte..."
"You were the one that taught us that the best way to catch someone is to keep them running, keep them looking over their shoulder until they stumble."
"I already caught him."
"For one out of what is most likely dozens of crimes."
"This isn't about Neal at all, is it?" Peter asked suddenly.
"What?"
"This about you and I."
"You and I?" Walters forced a smile. "Peter, there is no 'you and I'. I'm not that petty."
"Yes you are." Peter said point blank. "Everyone knows you were kissing all the right asses to get the position in New York. You can't tell me you aren't still pissed that I got the job by simply being the better Agent."
"You never could play the game."
"That's because I didn't have to."
"In any case, thank you for the painting." Walters said. "I'll have it back to you in a few days."
"I'll be back here tomorrow morning."
"Burk..."
"I didn't come all the way down to Washington to be your delivery boy. You have a case involving Caffrey, then I'm on it."
"Don't you already have a case on him that you're working? Something about a Nazi treasure?" Walters baited.
"There's no evidence against him at this time."
"Your word choice proves to me that you don't quite trust your CI."
"Why do you suddenly need leverage over Caffrey?" Peter asked to change the subject.
"That's not your concern."
"Of course it is," Peter snarled "he's my partner."
"'Partner'?" Walters chuckled. "There's your problem right there. You've fallen from your rank as 'Golden Child' of the F.B.I, Burke. You've picked the wrong friends, and made your loyalties all too clear."
"There's nothing wrong with my loyalties."
"If you say so." Walters shrugged.
Peter had the urge to make good on his promise to God to punch the arrogant bastard in the face. Walters smiled brightly making it that much harder to resist striking him. Regaining his composure Peter leaned in slightly to look Walters straight in the eye. Walters backed down for a moment, breaking their eye contact.
"You're not doing this without me." Peter said firmly.
"Feel free to help me bring Caffrey down."
"Let me guess: you plan to drag me down with him."
"Your words, not mine."
"You're never getting my job, Walters."
"We'll see about that."