Shortly after lunch, Jones emerged from behind a mountain of paperwork. "Hey! Let's go, guys!"
Neal sat morosely at his desk as he watched the team of agents crowd around Jones for the mission briefing. He tried not to be upset as they strapped on their bullet proof vests and last minute disguises. Diana was once again wearing the itchy wool uniform of the Metropolitan Art Museum docent. Her two probationary officers had changed into jogging clothes. Others were wearing plain street clothes. The relaxed clothing lent a charged air to the normally somber white collar division. A little techie geek was ensuring everyone was outfitted with radio transmitters and earpieces. Most were disguised as sunglasses or iPod earbuds. Undercover stings were the absolute most fun Neal had at work, and being benched in a case that was so personal really hurt.
Neal hunkered down over his desk, reviewing the mortgage fraud case Jones had given him yesterday. When Peter was in a mood like this, Neal would do anything to dispel his anger and get back in his good graces. Peter only threatened sending him back to prison when he was really and truly furious. Last time it was this bad, Neal had been forced to trade a few baseball cards with forged signatures so that he could procure Peter behind-home-plate seats in Yankee Stadium. Since their one-way discussion this morning, Neal had done his utmost to remain below the radar. He only offered information regarding Ammon's normal modus operadi and the occasional morsel regarding his long and sordid history with Keller when Jones or Diana requested his expertise. For the most part, though, Neal hadn't moved from his desk. Every time he did, it felt like Peter's eyes were boring into his back.
Neal glanced at the clock, and sighed. Three more hours, and he could go home. He tried to distract himself with the reports, but soon lost interest. He debated messing with Jones' desk—he was horrible at typing and had to look at the keys as he typed. He could barely peck out twenty words a minute. Switching the M and the N key on his keyboard would provide several hours of amusement watching Jones angrily discover he'd typed "Climtom Jomes" on all of his reports. Neal smiled just thinking about it.
He tried to think of something he could do to make Peter less angry. He'd never admit it to anyone—not even to Mozzie, because he could barely admit it to himself—but he sometimes worried that one day he'd do something that Peter wouldn't be able to forgive. Something that would end him up back in the big house. He thought for sure that running during his commutation hearing was going to do it, but sure enough, Peter followed him and brought him back safely. In fact, Neal ruminated, the time Elizabeth got kidnapped, the whole Nazi treasure incident, both of those times Neal had seen depths of anger and hurt that he never expected Peter to forgive. "What if," Neal thought to himself, "all these times I've pissed Peter off just kept adding up, and I'm running out of chances?"
Neal pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't continue down that thought trail; it terrified him that Peter might really make good on the prison threats and give up on him. He was going to go straight to the gym and swim laps until he couldn't pull himself out of the water, and then he was going to kill a bottle of wine. After yesterday, he was done with whiskey for a very long while. But he had a bottle of Merlot from Moldova that he'd been saving for a bad day.
Neal's moping was cut short when he realized Peter was standing in front of his desk. He looked at his boss, wondering how long he'd been standing there. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but was at a momentary loss for words. Fortunately, Peter didn't give him a chance to speak. "Neal, would you like to come sit in the van and watch the take-down?"
Peter suppressed a smile when he saw Neal's face light up with anticipation. The kid was so easy to read, sometimes.
"Really?" Neal hadn't moved, afraid this offer was too good to be true.
"Well, you won't be allowed to leave the van. But I know how much you want to see these two guys arrested. I only benched you because I want you to stay out of the crossfire." Peter picked up Neal's hat.
"Can't leave the van, got it." Neal stood up, excited to finally be included again, and Peter handed him his fedora. Peter and Neal headed to the elevator; Neal kept glancing up at his boss to try to get some reading on him, because he wasn't sure if the earlier incident was forgiven. He felt like there was a thick tension in the air, and so he remained silent. As the doors closed, he offered a quick, "Thank you."
"You're welcome. I really think you deserve to see this, Neal. Also, El made you some sandwiches." Peter smiled at his young charge. He'd been relieved that his scolding earlier seemed to finally break though Neal's thickheadedness. Why couldn't he see that his actions had results, results that affected others (especially those who cared about him the most)?
Everyone was in place. Diana was herding visitors through the Matisse exhibit, the two probies were stretching as if about to start their jog near the entrance to the Mark hotel, and the rest were posing as businessmen or tourists on the busy streets. Neal had to admit he was a little impressed with the amount of attention to detail Jones had put into this sting operation. The plan was, according to the debriefing announced at FBI headquarters, to allow a successful theft by Keller because there were tracking devices in the picture frames. Diana's role was to protect innocent bystanders. They would then carefully track him, because they didn't know the precise hand-off location—just that it would take place on foot near the Mark. Neal had suggested that it would most likely be near a taxi stand, because Ammon would have to catch a flight back to Saint Louis today, or else risk violating his parole agreement. They ruled out the subway because of the chatter they'd picked up from the planted bugs. They knew the hand off would happen in person, and that it would have to take long enough for Ammon to wire the payment to Keller.
Peter and Jones were watching the screens in the van with intensity. Neal, still feeling a little insecure, tried to stay hidden in the background and to make as little noise as possible. He didn't want to risk being sent home before watching Keller and Ammon get arrested.
When Peter unwrapped the sandwiches, though, he couldn't help observing "that ham smells terrible, Peter."
"That's why El packed you egg salad." Peter tossed a sandwich to Neal, who took it with a smile.
"Jones, I don't know what you got, but here." Peter handed him a small brown bag labeled "Clinton."
Jones looked into the bag and smiled, "I win, ham and egg salad!" Both Peter and Neal rolled their eyes in response.
While Neal unwrapped his sandwich, he said, "Tell Elizabeth thank you for us, Peter."
Clinton added around a mouthful of food, "Yeah, it's delicious as always."
The conversation grew quiet as they munched on chips and sandwiches. Neal watched the small screens; he could easily pick out the agents. They weren't nearly as sly or undercover as they thought they were.
"Peter! Jones!" Neal motioned to the screen. "Frank's on the move!"
"Shit. That wasn't in his plan." Peter dropped his sandwich and hurried to grab his radio.
Before he could get a word out on the net, he heard Diana's voice, ripe with adrenaline, "Boss! Keller just took the Sailors off the wall!" There was a muffled cacophony of yells and the sound of shots being fired. Jones was toggling between screens, trying to track Ammon and ensure Diana was safe. "He fucking SHOT at me! That bastard! I'm gonna—" Diana's threats were cut off when she realized she had a herd of terrified museum visitors to calm down and escort to safety.
Peter and Jones quit trying to track Ammon and focused entirely on Diana when Keller began firing. Her voice switched to authoritative professional as she tried to calm the masses, "Alright! Everyone, get down until this man has escorted the premises. Get down, ma'am. We'll ensure your safety. GET DOWN." Peter and Jones were relieved to see no one was hurt. Peter was speaking rapidly into his radio, alerting all the agents standing by to be prepared to follow, but not engage Matthew Keller.
The entire time, Neal was watching Ammon move through the streets. He suddenly realized the plan. It was an old con, one that he and Keller had once run before when they were in their early teens. It involved handing off the stolen goods and continuing to remain a distraction. Neal knew that after Keller gave Ammon the art, he would continue to draw the law enforcement officials' attention to him. When they finally apprehended him, they would have no evidence-no pictures on the museum security footage, no fingerprints, and ballistics would show the gun in Keller's possession wasn't used to attack Diana. Neal knew if he didn't intercept Keller and get the transaction recorded by the FBI, they wouldn't be able to incriminate him in the theft. Without saying a word to either Peter or Jones, he slipped outside the van and took off at a run.
Jones and Peter continued to bark instructions at the other agents over the radio. "Forget Ammon, get Keller, this sting has gone sideways. Forget about trying to catch them during the hand-off-if we don't catch Keller before he leaves the Met we will lose those paintings, forever!" The other agents left their undercover positions and swarmed the building, blocking all entrances.
Diana had finally handed her charges over to the museum security and was speaking into her watch transmitter. Her voice was clipped and she was breathing heavily as she tore through the museum. She had her gun out and was trying desperately to catch up to Keller. "Boss, he's gone upstairs, don't have eyes on him, can you see him? Where is he? I'm going up the southern stairwell! Send back up!"
Jones was rapidly scanning all the camera feeds. "Boss, I can't find him! I can't find him!" Jones suddenly caught sight of someone on the screens, and it caused him to drop his cup of coffee. Amidst his violent cursing, he managed to choke out, "Neal. That's Neal!"
Peter whipped around in his chair so quickly he almost fell out of it. Sure enough, he and Jones were the only two inside. He ripped off his headphones and slammed open the doors. He scanned the pedestrians who were oblivious to the crisis unfolding around them, desperate for any sign of his young charge. Peter stumbled back into the van, and clutched at the laptop. He quickly pulled up the anklet tracker database and entered his identification and password.
"C'mon, load…faster…Fuck! He's really in the Met!" There was once a time in their early days of working together that in a Neal-gone-rogue situation, Peter would have been certain a crime was about to unfold. While that was still an occasional concern, more recently Peter began fearing that Neal would do something stupid enough that would get him in trouble. Not because he was malicious or because he wanted to commit crimes, but because he simply was impetuous and didn't think his actions through. Today, right now, in the middle of this epic fuck-up, Peter was afraid that Neal would get wounded, or killed. Keller was a bloodthirsty criminal, who was not afraid to kill to get what he wanted. Peter was sure somewhere on Keller's wish list was a desire for revenge for the past several years in prison. Ammon was equally dangerous, although, to what extent, Peter wasn't sure. Peter felt his blood pressure skyrocket because Neal, acting without thinking, as always, was now caught between the two of them.
Author's Note:
Guys...I just finished Season 5. (minor spoilers ahead) I'm...I can't even process this right now. I'm annoyed with El and Peter, I'm furious with Peter and Neal and if Peter doesn't *fix it!* and instead leaves it for Neal to pick up the pieces after everything I'm gonna flip my shit. I'm beyond angry with the higher-ups...I was proud of Neal for saying no to Moz until the higher-ups fucked everything all to pieces and Neal is about to undo everything he's accomplished...and OMG WTF WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE VERY END?! YOU CAN'T JUST END IT LIKE THAT! AURGGHHHHHHH!
/end rant.
*sigh* I'm just gonna hafta write more White Collar fan fiction to get my fix, I guess.
How much longer do we have to wait until Season 6?