Neal Caffrey, Suspect at Large

Chapter 4

Peter looked at Neal in disbelieve.

"Neal, you need help." and he truly believed he did. Something must have happened and now Neal was as paranoid as Mozzie.

Neal stood up from his chair so abruptly that it fell to the ground. Peter winced at the harsh sound of wood against tile.

"I'm not crazy dammnit!"

Neal was glaring at Peter with fire in his eyes. He knew what he was talking about. He wasn't some paranoid wack job.

Neal walked over to the side table and pulled out a worn manilla file. He pulled out a pocket knife and cut the ropes holding Peter's arms in place. He thrust the file into Peter's numb hands.

"That's everything we have on the corruption going on at the FBI." said the woman. She was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

Inside the file were photos of FBI agents in back ally exchanges, meetings with mob families, and other incriminating scenes. There were witness reports that had been overlooked because they suddenly came back and retracted their statement. The entire file was made up of damning evidence against multiple agents and higher-ups in the FBI. There must have been dozens of them! How could he not have noticed that the justice system that he defended and believed in was corrupt and rotten to the core.

The day I disappeared, Grace here was in my apartment when I got home.

Flashback

Neal opened the door to his apartment, he was excited for a night full of wine and eight hours of sleep.

He flipped the light switch and jumped when he saw the woman perched on the edge of his dining room table.

"Hello Neal." she said as she calmly put her hands up to show him that she was unarmed.

"Who are you?" Neal sled as he walked over to his wine rack and poured himself a glass to hide his apprehension. After a second thought, he poured a second glass for his 'guest'.

"My name's Agent Grace Topen. I'm from Violent Crimes." she said as she took the glass of wine.

Neal straddled a chair so that he was facing her.

"Mind telling me what an FBI agent is doing waiting for me inside my apartment in the dark and sitting on my dining room table?' Neal asked, raising an eyebrow.

He saw the amusement in her eyes as she took a sip of wine.

"I'll be upfront with you Mr. Caffrey. What I'm about to ask you to do isn't sanctioned by the FBI. It's dangerous and some aspects of the job could led you to take some not so legal actions." she said, deciding to give Neal the final decision.

Neal looked at her suspiciously. She seemed sincere and seemed to be genuinely concerned about whatever she was bringing him.

"What is it?"

Agent Topen's shoulders sagged as if a great weight had been lifted from her. She pulled out a brand new Manilla folder and opened it. There were a couple of witness statements and soon pictures.

"I've been doing some surveillance and I have valid reason to believe that there is deep corruption in the FBI."she said. Her expression was grim.

Neal picked up the file and what he saw spoke volumes. There were agents conspiring with known mobsters and several illegal meetings with drug dealers. He recognized a few higher ups in the photos.

"Well," said Neal, "seems interesting."

The woman was smiling now.

"What can I do to help." he said with certainty.

"What are you willing to do?" It was a loaded question. No doubt, this would draw attention, and if these people knew they were poking around?

"What will happen if I don't? If I leave this all alone?" he asked.

Agent Topen's face darkened.

"Then they will continue to use and manipulate the system to their advantage. Innocent men will go to jail. The people who eventually poke around disappear. Children and spouses are kidnapped for leverage. The list goes on and on."

Neal kept his eyes on his glass. He quickly downed the rest of the wine and looked at the agent across from him.

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

"Give me your ankle." she said. She set her glass down on th stable and rummaged around in her purse.

Meanwhile Neal got up and placed his foot up on the table so that his anklet was easier to reach.

The agent pulled the key to his anklet out of her purse. Neal watched, detached, as she unlocked his anklet and pulled it off.

"Now what?" Neal asked.

"Now?" Agent Grace Topen fixed her green eyes on his blue ones. "Now we run."

WC*WC*WC*WC*WC*WC

Peter stared at Neal. He had the evidence in his hands. Neal seemed to be telling the truth, but there was still one thing that bothered him.

"And you just left? Just like that! We thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere! You ran Neal! You ran and barely gave a thought to the people you left behind!" Peter shouted.

Neal flinched at every accusation Peter hurled at him.

'Good.' Peter thought.

"I was going to contact you." Neal said softly.

"Then what stopped you." Peter whispered. His voice held so much anger and contempt that Neal flinched again.

Feeling the tension in the room, Grace excused herself; mumbling something about checking on Reeves.

Peter glared at Neal expectantly.

Neal sighed. "It's a long story."

"The only people who know we're here are me and Agent Reeves.You have all night."

A little voice in the back of Peter's head was telling him that this was a bad idea. He just told a known fugitive that no one was going to come looking for him and the other agent, the other injured agent, the agent that this fugitive had shot.

Neal sighed again, but righted his chair and sat down.

"We were in Chicago."