Note from the Phoenix: Well I go back to work tomorrow after a full month on short term disability. So here is my Christmas present to all my loyal readers. You know I love you all and that these stories wouldn't come to be if you didn't keep encouraging me! There will be three chapters worth of Neal and Daniel's adventures together, so enjoy them, but don't worry I'll be getting back to Walters, the Hope Diamond, and Sara after that.
WARNING: Strong language, and spoilers for 'The Count of Monte Cristo'...the best book *ever* written. Dumas was one of my first inspirations to write. Second only to Issac Asimov. Go out and read everything they have both written. ...after you read this.
White Collar: The Eye of Sita
Chapter Eleven
Twelve years old Neal had slipped out his new bedroom window and was out on the Texas city streets. Leaving the safety of his upper middle class foster home he went in search of a new canvas. He had found long ago the key to not being bother by anyone while in the rough neighborhoods was to simply act like you belonged there. He walked with purpose with his shoulders held back.
Neal had done a recon mission the night before and quickly arrived at his destination. The industrial area was mostly abandoned at night. There were a few drug dealers around, but Neal had told them once who his mother was and they had all left him alone ever since. At times they even kept an eye on him to make sure he was safe.
Coming to one of the small on-ramp bridges that lead up to the highway Neal put down the back pack he'd brought. Neal always made sure that there was no true art on the cement where he was going to work. This place mostly had crudely done tags and random profanity. With a twelve by four space to work with Neal started to sketch out the scene he'd decided to put here.
Trying to bring some color and nature to the concrete slum Neal began work on a Japanese ink inspired work of a mountain range scene. This would be his twenty-second mural. He had learned that he needed to be fast when he worked to reduce the risk getting caught. In only a few hours he had a breathtaking vista over a mountain range with the old style trees and swirled clouds found in traditional Japanese art. Finishing the piece Neal signed it 'Texas Anonymous' in black and stood back to admire it.
"Just beautiful."
The deep voice startled Neal into dropping the spray paint. He whipped around to face the intruder while at the same time pulling the gun he wore at his hip out of its holster. The gun had been his father's and it was fully loaded. Standing about twenty feet to his right was man in his early fifties, wearing a suit far too nice to have just been 'out for a walk' in this part of the city. Neal did not hesitate to bring the weapon to bear on the man's chest.
"Hello, Texas." The man greeted warmly. "It's good to finally meet you, my name is Robert Caffrey."
"Stay back, Mr. Caffrey." Neal said calmly with traditional Texan respect for one's elders. "I don't want any trouble from you, and you don't want any from me."
"You hold your gun like a cop." Robert said with approval.
"I fire like one too." Neal warned. "Come any closer and I'll prove it to you."
"I believe you."
"There isn't a jury in this state that will convict me, I'll just tell them it was self defense and I'll make sure you're not around to say otherwise."
"Shoot to kill, that's the only way." Robert nodded. "However, I promise that my intentions are pure, I am not here to harm you in any way."
"Then what do you want from me?" Neal demanded.
"What else? I want some of your art."
"It's not very portable," Neal glanced quickly at the recently finished mural "but you can have this one if it will make you leave me alone."
"Talented and clever." Roberts smiled. "You are a diamond in the rough my friend."
"Not to sound cliche, but: I'm not your friend."
"And such a vocabulary for someone so young."
"Fuck off...how's that for vocabulary?"
"I fully understand your distrust, in fact I'd be worried if you did trust me." Roberts said seriously. "Here is what I want: I would like you to paint Van Gogh's 'Starry Night' in your style on the North facing wall of one of my business buildings."
"It's not really graffiti if someone gives you permission." Neal replied as he lowered his gun slightly.
"I realize that. Which is why I'm going to offer you 5,000$ in cash for your efforts."
"Yeah, right...let me guess: I just have to come to your place, but I probably shouldn't tell my parents because they'll just want the money for a college fund or something, so it's best if I just come alone."
"You're not living with your parents, Neal."
"How do you know my name?" Neal snarled as he raised the weapon again.
"I have resources." Robert said cryptically.
Neal narrowed his eyes as he positioned his aim directly over Robert's heart to show him that he wouldn't be easily taken. The sound of a gun being cocked directly behind him chilled Neal's blood. The cold touch of steel told him that the other man who had flanked him wanted him to give up his weapon. Neal didn't hand the gun over, but he did slowly put it back in its holster which seemed to satisfy the stranger.
"It's okay, Neal, he's not going to hurt you." Roberts assured. "I just wanted to show you that although you are good at taking care of yourself, you could still use some guidance."
"I don't need you." Neal spat.
"No, you don't, but that doesn't mean I don't have anything to offer you."
"What do you get in return?"
"The preservation of my legacy."
"Legacy?" Peter suddenly interrupted the story.
"That's what he said." Neal confirmed.
"What did he mean?"
"Like I said Robert was an amazing forger. Some of his paintings are hanging in the Louver right now as original works."
"Great." Peter sighed. "I don't suppose you could tell me which ones."
"I could, but I thought you promised me that this was all off record."
"Right. Of course. Don't tell me, it would just drive me crazy to know and not be able to do anything about it."
"Exactly." Neal smiled. "Robert was the best, but he had no son, no partner, no student, and he was suffering from macular degeneration."
"He was going blind?"
"Very slowly, a sad fate for anyone, but particularly harsh on an artist. He wanted someone to pass his secrets on to."
"And he found you."
"Yes he did."
"Did you do the painting for Roberts?"
"I did." Neal nodded. "He left me with the address and said that I could go there any night I wanted, the paint and the money would be waiting."
"No trap?"
"No trap. Everything was just as he said. Over the next three months I slowly started to trust him more and more. Eventually he took me into his home to stay. I say 'home', but mansion is a much better word for it, or 'estate' really."
"He adopted you?" Peter asked.
"That's what he told me."
"But that wasn't true?"
"I found out much later that it was a lot more complicated than that. He bought out the social worker to destroy my file and to tell me that I was going to live with him."
"Is that when you got the name 'Caffrey'?"
"No, I had to earn that."
"He was like a sponsor to you." Peter pieced together. "He bankrolled your early crime sprees and education."
"Not just me."
"Daniel White..."
"He took Daniel in when he was just five, his parents were both well known artists. Killed in a car accident. Daniel was a little more than a year older than I was, but it didn't take long for us to become close friends."
"Partners in crime?"
"That too..."
Although Neal had only recently turned fifteen and had not stepped foot in a classroom in over two years he was spending his morning studying Alexander Dumas. Neal wasn't sure if he would ever be able to read every book in the massive two story floor to ceiling private book collection, but he was determined to try. Neal was having a little trouble reading through 'The Count of Monte Cristo', but only because he was reading it in the original French.
Daniel wandered into the library and rolled his eyes when he caught sight of Neal laying on the giant Oriental rug with the dusty leather book. He and Neal had been nearly inseparable over the past two years, but Daniel still didn't understand Neal's fascination with the Old Masters. Daniel was much more interested in real world knowledge that applied directly to growing their various criminal skill sets. Physically Daniel was at the other end of the spectrum from Neal as well. Daniel's muscular build, deeply tan skin, and short bleach blonde hair was in stark contrast to Neal's long ebony hair, light skin, and lean grace.
Personality wise Daniel was much more into active adventure and far more socially outgoing. He bored easily and was quick to move from one project to another without ever finishing any of them. However the teenage boys shared enough common interests to make them as close as any brothers. Daniel walked up and stepped on the book Neal was reading.
"Careful, Daniel, this is an original copy from 1844."
"Neal, get your nose out of that book." Daniel demanded. "Let's go for a ride."
"Where are we going?"
"It's not about the destination my friend, it's about the journey."
"I really want to finish this, it's a great book. You should read it."
"I have." Daniel shrugged. "Dantes spends his whole life chasing Valentine, the 'love of his life', but he ends up with Haydee instead, end of story."
"I hate you." Neal sighed.
"I'll make it up to you, I swear. Let's go."
Sighing heavily Neal closed the priceless book and returned it to its place on the towering shelf. He followed Daniel out to the garage and looked over the collection of cars. Daniel usually asked him which one he wanted to take out, but today he grabbed the keys to his personal Ferrari and tossed them to Neal.
"I...I get to drive?" Neal asked in shock.
"Robert says it's about time you learn."
"Awesome."
The high performance vehicle proved to be a bit of a challenge at first, but with Daniel's guidance they were soon out on a lonely stretch of Texas highway. The car roared and squealed in protest at times when Neal didn't quite get the clutch right. Once on the open road it got easier and Neal found himself wanting to drive faster and faster.
"Shouldn't you have a seat belt on?" Neal asked.
"I never worry about seat belts in this car, at the speeds that she can do you're gonna die anyway."
"Good point."
Neal reached down and unsnapped his own seat belt. The added danger put a new thrill into the ride. Daniel laughed and told him to go faster, he was only driving twenty over the speed limit. Doing close to a hundred miles an hour Neal blasted past a cop that was hiding behind a ground level billboard. The cop flicked on his sirens as he screeched out onto the road to take chase.
"Oh, shit." Neal said as he took his foot off the gas.
"What are you doing?" Daniel complained. "Don't slow down."
"We're speeding, and I don't even have a driver's license."
"All the more reason to go faster."
"Daniel, there's a cop behind us."
"Yeah, 'behind us'," Daniel pointed out "in a Chevy Impala cruiser that is older than we are."
"So?"
"So? So? Neal, this is a Ferrari!" Daniel exclaimed proudly. "You've got seven gears, use them to leave that fucking Pig in the dust!"
Suddenly understanding what Daniel was getting at Neal stepped on the gas hard. The car was far more responsive than he was ready for and lurched forward. Daniel laughed and threw his head back as he howled like a wild coyote. With adrenaline racing through his blood as fast as the super powered engine Neal joined Daniel in the animalistic cry.
With the vast straight Texas road stretched out in front of them the car flew across the hot asphalt. The cop gave up the chase after only a mile, knowing that his own car would break down in the desert sun if he pushed it too hard.
"Easy there, Tiger, keep it under 200." Daniel chuckled.
"I am in love with this car." Neal said breathlessly as he eased off the gas.
"She's yours." Daniel said casually.
"What?"
"I've been looking to get the new model. You can have her."
"Woah, wait..." Peter interrupted the story again. "You were involved in a high speed chase driving a Ferrari when you were only fifteen?"
"Not really much of a chase. I still miss that car."
"You are unbelievable." Peter shook his head.
"Even though I'd lived with Robert in luxury for over a year, that car was my first real taste of what the 'good life' could really mean."
"No it wasn't, you just didn't know any better."
"Do you want to hear this story or not?"
"Right. I'm sorry. Continue."
"Anyway, when Daniel and I weren't getting into trouble my first year with Robert was mostly devoted to painting, learning a few other skills, and studying art, history, French..."
"French?"
"Robert insisted."
"Why?"
"I found out on my next birthday..."
A little more than three years after Neal first met Robert he was sleeping peacefully in his bedroom in the rambling Texas estate. At dawn he woke gently to an odd noise. Still half asleep he tried to figure out what the sound and if it was important enough to pay attention to. Deciding that it wasn't Neal rolled onto his stomach and tried to go back to sleep. He gasped sharply when he realized that the sound had been that of the lock on his door being picked, but it was too late.
"Attack!" Daniel cried.
"No! Ooof!" Neal exclaimed breathlessly as Daniel landed on him hard. "What is wrong with you?"
"Happy birthday!" Daniel crowed before tousling Neal's hair and bounding back off the bed.
"You are way too cheerful in the morning." Neal grumbled. "Go away."
"Come on, Old Man, get up!"
"I'm sixteen, I'm not old."
Neal had no intention of getting out of bed and hid under the comforter to go back to sleep. Daniel smiled mischievously and reached under the covers to grab a hold of Neal's ankle. Neal squawked as Daniel hauled him forcibly out of bed. Neal tried to grip down on the edge of the mattress, but there was little he could do to stop Daniel.
"Hey!" Neal protested with a laugh. "Let me go!"
"You might be smarter and better with a paint brush," Daniel chuckled "but I will always be bigger and stronger than you."
"That's only because you never let me get enough sleep."
Daniel managed to drag Neal fully off the bed, letting him go once he hit the floor. Neal tried to retaliate by tangling Daniel's legs in his own to bring him down to the floor, but Daniel easily turned the situation around and eventually pinned Neal to the floor by stepping on his chest. Neal struggled against Daniel for a moment, but he knew from experience that the only way to get free was to give in. Neal relaxed and put his hands up in surrender.
"That's more like it." Daniel released his captive.
"I need a better lock on my door." Neal grumbled.
"That's not going to keep me out." Daniel teased. "Neal, trust me, you're going to need all the daylight you can get today."
"What? Why?"
"Robert has a surprise for you. Personally I don't think you're good enough yet, but since it's your birthday you at least get a chance to prove yourself."
"I don't understand."
"You will." Daniel said mysteriously. "Get dressed and get your skinny ass down stairs."
"I'm not skinny, I just have narrow hips." Neal chuckled. "Which means I'll always look better in a suit than you."
"Whatever, just put something on over those ridiculous silk boxers and get down stairs."
Daniel constantly teased Neal about his slight frame. Although only a year older Daniel was considerably more muscular. Neal worked hard on gaining muscle so that he'd have a fighting chance against his friend, but all the exercise ever seemed to do was make him leaner with more definition. A recent growth spurt had brought him a few inches closer to Daniel's six foot three height, but it wasn't looking like Neal was going to quite reach the six foot barrier himself.
In the constant competitive war between himself and his surrogate brother Neal had to rely on either speed or cunning. As long as the contest wasn't brute force Neal tended to come out on top. His slight of hand performances surpassed that of both Daniel and Robert, or even probably David Copperfield. The only test of skill that Daniel beat him on hands down every time was lock picking. For such a big guy Daniel had a magical touch with locks.
Neal contemplated going back to bed once Daniel went down stairs. However, excited to see what Robert was planing for his birthday Neal stepped through the shower instead. Pulling on a pair of blue jeans and a white shirt Neal headed down stairs. Getting to the expansive dinning room table Neal found Robert and Daniel waiting for him.
"Happy Birthday, Neal." Robert greeted warmly.
"Thank you."
"I'm sure Daniel already told you that I have something planned."
"He did."
"Here it is."
Robert handed Neal a small metal box. Looking the box over Neal ran his fingertips over the key hole that was keeping the box firmly shut. Glancing at the table he spotted a full set of lock picks laid out. Neal smiled as he realized he was going to have to pick the lock if wanted to find out what was inside.
"You have until midnight to open it." Robert informed. "If you can't get it open by then you'll have to wait until next year to try again."
"If I can't pick a lock in an hour I probably just don't have the skill to pick it."
"On his sixteenth Daniel worked on it for seven hours before it opened for him."
"Seven hours?" Neal repeated in shock. "I don't remember that."
"I hid in my room, just n case I couldn't do it."
"I designed the lock myself." Robert said proudly.
"You went on a trip for over a week after that, didn't you?" Neal asked as he remembered. "Where did you go?"
"Tick, tock, Neal, time is wasting." Daniel mocked rather than answered. "Not that it matters, you'll never get that open this year."
"We'll see about that..."
Eight hours later Neal was still working at the intricate lock. Daniel had come at the seventh hour mark to mock him, but Neal didn't pay any attention. He wasn't frustrated, he was quietly determined to discover what made this lock so special. Neal had broken over a dozen picks, but there were plenty more where they came from.
The sun was starting to set and Neal hadn't taken his attention away from the locked box since he first got his hands on it. Every few hours Robert came into the dinning room to deliver something to drink or snack on, but he didn't say anything. Eventually Robert offered one piece of advice.
"Try it with your eyes closed."
Neal thought it was an odd suggestion, but he took it. Closing his eyes Neal concentrated on the tiny movements and vibrations from the delicate pins inside the lock as he raked them with the small pick. There were seven pins and each one needed just the right amount of tension on the tumbler. Neal wondered what the key must look like. What he didn't know was that there was no key capable of unlocking such a complicated lock. The only way inside was to coax it open with the pick.
With his eyes closed Neal imagined what the gears inside must look like and moved each pin. Thinking he had it Neal held his breath and turned the mechanism. With a satisfying click the lock sprung open.
"I got it!" Neal called.
While Neal waited for Robert and Daniel to come he slowly opened the box. He actually expected it to be empty. Neal already felt that the rush of success over such a challenging lock was reward enough. However tucked inside were two Canadian passports. He opened them both, one held his own picture the other held one of Daniel, but the names were wrong. Robert and Daniel arrived and congratulated Neal on sticking with the lock long enough to break it.
"What are these for?" Neal asked holding up the passports.
"Pack your bags, Boys, I'm sending you to Paris."
"Paris?" Neal lit up. "As in Paris, France?"
"The one and only." Robert nodded.
"Suddenly I understand why you insisted we learn French." Daniel grinned.
"Precisely. While you're over there I want you to bring me back something very special."
"Anything." Daniel and Neal replied in unison.
"I've always wanted a Matisse...the Paris Museum of Modern Art has a particularly nice one that I've had my eye on for years."
"Do you think Neal is ready for this?" Daniel asked doubtfully.
"I don't know." Roberts smiled. "Neal, are you ready?"
"Absolutely."