elrhiarhodan

Continued from Part I

A Monday Morning, Mid-November, 2011

When the town car arrived to pick him on Monday morning, Peter couldn’t help but think that a new life really had begun. Or maybe it started when he left his gun in the lockbox and didn’t put on a shoulder holster underneath his jacket.

Actually, it really began just before midnight, Friday. In a moment when he thought his life should have been over, all his futures but one burned away, Neal had tossed him a lifeline. That simple act of kindness – asking about Elizabeth, went a long way in healing a festering wound to his soul.

He hadn’t realized how heavy his grief was, how accustomed he had gotten to carrying it around, and yet how unmanageable it was. Just being able to talk about her, to someone who cared...it may have been such a cliché, but it made all the difference in the world.

It was funny, there were a few times Saturday afternoon, while Peter puttered around his apartment, that he thought of canceling. But it was as if just having Neal’s permission to back out made it all the more important that he not do so.

And for the first time in over six years, he talked to Elizabeth. When he travelled - particularly when he was chasing after Neal, he always took her picture with him, and he got into the habit of talking with her – particularly late at night when he couldn’t sleep. Since she died, he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring himself to have a conversation that could never, ever be answered. Saturday, though – it seemed right. He told her everything – retiring from the Bureau, meeting Neal again, the sudden urge to violence and the bone-deep despair. He told Elizabeth about what happened afterwards, and the irresistible attraction he felt.

He didn’t ask for forgiveness or permission. Those weren’t needed. Peter knew she was dead, but the pain of her loss was not such a bitter ache anymore.

Dinner on Saturday, at a gastropub in Soho, was enjoyable for more than the food. Neal was his intellectual equal, and they talked on subjects as wide ranging as the Van Meegeran forgeries (Neal had nothing but contempt for that Dutchman) to the decline of the big chain bookstores and the possible renaissance of small independents, to the perennial failure of the metropolitan area sports teams. Oddly enough, Neal liked soccer, hockey and baseball, but was not so much a fan of football and basketball. They both confessed to a fascination with curling.

The evening ended back at Neal’s hotel room, and if they didn’t use up the fresh bottle of lube Neal bought and the rest of the condoms, it wasn’t for a lack of trying.

Sunday morning lacked Saturday’s awkwardness; they shared both a shower and breakfast. Peter didn’t return Neal’s underwear, but had the forethought to bring an extra pair of his own. When they parted, he could see Neal wanted to ask him if they’d see each other again. Peter wanted to ask the same question. Both men said nothing and kissed each other goodbye.

He had made it down to the street and nearly turned back - not to spend the day, but to get Neal’s phone number, since he wasn’t going to be at this hotel forever. But Peter didn’t. Asking for it was a Rubicon he wasn’t quite ready to cross. It wasn’t until that night, when he got undressed and ready for bed, that he found the origami rose that Neal tucked into his shirt pocket. On the edges of the impeccably folded paper flower were Neal’s cellphone number and email address.

He smiled as he tucked it into his wallet, next to the picture of Elizabeth.

---

Peter had forgotten what it was like to have a first day at a new job. Come to think of it, he really never did have one in a professional setting. Yes, he had done his internship at one of the Big 5 accounting firms, and had a post-Academy orientation – but neither of those would compare to taking on the position of Chief Financial Officer in a major international corporation.

His vast corner office was the complete opposite of the tiny fishbowl he had at the Bureau. Concordine wasn’t an old money company, but it played in a space filled with businesses that predated the second World War, and it tried to look like its rivals. The executive floors were filled with masses of wood paneling, plush oriental rugs and a stunning array of original artwork. He found himself with an executive assistant (who had her own secretary), two junior accounting assistants, a “business partner” from Human Resources, a pair of project coordinators, a department comptroller and company-wide one as well. Not to mention a team of ten executive level direct reports (all vice presidents) plus over two hundred other financial and accounting staff members – just in the United States.

Peter did his best not to appear overwhelmed, but when Veronica (his executive assistant) handed him a copy of the press release and company bio for internal distribution, he didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. Maybe he’d call Neal tonight and tell him about it over drinks.

“How many more of these meetings do we have for today.”

Veronica checked the calendar on her iPad. “Just two more, then you are scheduled for a meeting with Mrs. Feldman. That means drinks. She also said something about dinner at Daniel.”

Peter smiled – Sonia Feldman was probably the single greatest reason why he accepted Concordine’s offer. She built this company from scratch – it wasn’t her husband’s, or her father’s or her grandfather’s. It was hers – started with seed money she earned as a junior accounting associate. Sonia was brash and unapologetic about either her brains or her beauty. She didn’t so much charm him, as bowl him over.

He scrubbed at his face, glad the day was almost over.

“Weary, sir?”

“Cut the ‘sir,’ Veronica. You’re my age.” He liked his assistant; she gave as good as she got, in a way reminding him of his favorite probationary agent – Diana, who had left shortly before El died.

“It’s not polite to talk about a woman’s age.”

“It’s not politic to make your new boss feel old on his first day.”

“Coffee?”

“Sounds good. I’ll need it.”

She came back with a cup of perfectly made espresso just as the next to last of his staff arrived for the preliminary interview. He deliberately didn’t offer the man a cup. He wasn’t here to make friends.

The fifteen minutes allotted for this meeting dragged as Peter grilled this particular VP on his testing protocols for Sarbanes-Oxley compliance. He quickly came to the conclusion that the man was both a moron and an idiot.

The last interview was significantly better, and they ran ten minutes over the schedule, talking about risk management. She alluded to new internal security programs, but demurred on the details. Peter’s curiosity was piqued when she told him that Internal Security reported directly to the company president and board of directors. No one knew who the department head was, how big a team he or she controlled, where they were based, but in the last two years, the security chief’s team had uncovered several serious security issues.

As they walked to the president’s office, he grilled Veronica. “You’re telling me there is a VP and a department here that no one knows?”

“No one but Mrs. Feldman and the Board.” Veronica was tried hard to hide a smile.

“You’ve got to be kidding. There is a group of stealth employees going around and discovering who is stealing office supplies?” Peter shook his head. He knew that internal security in a financial services company was much more important than he was making it out to be.

“Fourth Amendment doesn’t apply to corporations. Sir.”

Peter glared at his assistant. “I think I know that. I’m also familiar with undercover operations. I just don’t like the idea of a group of employees being permanently undercover. Seems a little Orwellian to me.”

Veronica knocked, then opened the door to the president’s office suite. “Well, I guess you can discuss that with Mrs. Feldman.”

Sonia Feldman was in the outer office, chatting with her assistant - a man young enough to be her son. Peter had met Stephen during the interview process. Sonia had been running late, and the young man was eager to ask him about his career with the FBI. Peter wasn’t sure if the kid was doing some sort of pre-interview interview, or if he was actually interested in become an agent. Regardless, he felt compelled to give a little pep-talk about the Bureau and the Academy.

“Peter.” Sonia held out her hands to him, greeting him like a long-lost friend. “I’ll have you know that I’m more than a little annoyed with you.”

Peter stepped back - this wasn’t good. But she was smiling, so it couldn’t be that serious. “Stephen was just telling me that he’s submitted his application to the FBI, based on your encouragement. I almost hope he gets turned down - I don’t want to lose him.” But it wasn’t hard to see that she was teasing.

Peter looked at the young man, so eager, so earnest. In a way, it was like looking into a mirror and seeing his younger self. “Hmmm, is this really what you want?”

The breathless “yes, Sir!” was a delight to the twenty-year veteran that lived inside him. “I know quite a few people…”

“You’d do that?”

“I can’t make any promises, and I’ll need to see your application first.”

The kid’s shining eyes made him feel ten feet tall, and almost ancient. He looked back at Sonia, she was smiling fondly.

“Come on in, Peter. Let’s talk about your first day.” Before they went into the inner office, Sonia gave her assistant a cryptic instruction. “You can go for the day, but make sure the alarm in the outer office is left off.”

He wasn’t quite so comfortable that he felt he could ask her why she was leaving a hole in her physical security.

She turned to him. “What would you like to drink?”

He figured he could toy with a single glass of scotch for a while. But before he could ask, she offered him a choice, “I’ve got single malt, but you strike me as a beer kind of guy.”

Peter sighed in relief. “To be honest, yeah.”

“Stout or pilsner?”

“Pilsner if you’ve got.”

She pulled out two bottles of Peroni. “You are a man after my own heart. I know I’m supposed to play with the big boys and pretend to enjoy 50-year old scotch, but frankly I can’t stand the taste. I discovered this when Jack and I were in Italy a few years ago.”

She opened the bottle and handed it to him, opened her own and sipped straight from the long neck. Peter stood there, bemused. “Oh - did you want a glass?”

“No - this is fine.” He took a sip, then another.

“So - how was your first day?”

“Would it worry you if I said it was a little exhausting.”

“I’d be worried if you didn’t.” She sipped her beer. “Have you met all of your staff?”

“I think I interviewed about six hundred vice presidents since I got here.”

She laughed at his exaggeration. “Surely not that bad, Peter?”

“It was bad enough. My staff is not going to like me.”

“You’re not paid to be liked.”

“I know.” He sighed. “But I used to be liked, respected and admired. Once upon a time.”

“Do you want me to quote Machiavelli to you?”

“Please, don’t.”

They chatted for a few minutes, Peter pointing out the deadwood he got from his first impressions. Sonia agreed with him on some, they disagreed on others. He finished the bottle and she got them both seconds. He was feeling pretty mellow when there was a knock on the inner door.

“Ah, that would be your last meeting of the day.” Sonia got up to open the door.

Peter stood up and moved into the shadowed area of the large office. His gut - which was still nearly infallible, told him that he was about to meet the super secret Vice President of Internal Security. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what that person would be like, though. Maybe a James Bond type, or perhaps more like Bond’s boss, “M.”

Sonia opened the door just wide enough to admit a lean body in a dark, well-made suit. He slipped into the room like a man accustomed to stealthy behavior.

Whatever, whomever he was expecting, he was not prepared for Neal Caffrey to walk through that door.

Peter kept to the shadows, hoping to hide the shock that must have been written on his face. He watched as Neal greeted Sonia, very European with a kiss on each cheek.

“So, where’s the new CFO? I seem to have been left off the distribution list for the company bio. Any reason for that?”

“Did you get a copy anyway?” There was a little tension in Sonia’s voice. Peter didn’t doubt that Neal would pick up on that.

“No - I figured that you had your reasons. But it’s unlike you to be so squirrelly. What gives?”

She took Neal’s arm and turned to face Peter.

“Stop hiding in the shadows, and come meet my Chief of Internal Security.”

Peter stepped into the light.

Sonia was all mischief and smiles. “Introductions aren’t necessary. I think the two of you know each other.”

Peter hoped he was better at hiding the shock than Neal was. He opened his mouth to say something - he didn’t know what, and he closed it again.

Sonia stepped right into the middle of this awkward moment. “Now, Peter - before you get angry, let me explain something.”

He swallowed twice and interrupted her. “I am not going to get upset. I was just going to point out that you’ve got the fox guarding the henhouse.” He caught the hurt look in Neal’s eyes and hoped the expression on his own face was readable enough. Play along, Neal.

“Ahhh, but this is a very special fox, Peter.” Sonia was obviously delighted with this little orchestration.

“I didn’t know you went corporate.” Neal held out his hand, and Peter shook it.

“It was a recent decision.” Peter kept his voice cool. “I did know that you got out of prison - your release notice crossed my desk, what - two years ago?”

“Were you surprised that I didn’t show up on your radar again?”

“Frankly …”

Sonia interrupted before the conversation got any more biting. “I’m glad to see that the two of you are not at each others’ throats.” She smiled at both men.

“Peter, do know want to know why I picked you over a pool of very well qualified CFOs? I did get a little resistance in selecting someone with no corporate experience whatsoever.”

Peter kept his voice even, but his eyes were fixed on Neal. “It had occurred to me, but honestly - I was happy to be offered the position. I wasn’t going to question your choice.”

“Well, my reasoning was pretty simple. Neal is simply the smartest man I have ever met.”

Peter was a little surprised at the dark red flush that burned across Neal’s cheeks.

Sonia continued, “And I figured that whoever caught Neal had to be just as smart, if not smarter.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to blush.

“Burke and Caffrey - I think you’ll make a terrific team for Concordine Financial.”

Neal stared at him, and Peter couldn’t help but wonder at how badly this could have gone.

“Sonia…”

“What, Neal? Don’t you think this is a terrific opportunity? You got to play cat and mouse with Peter for three years - now you get to work with him, and play cat and mouse with people out to steal from me.”

“Are you changing my reporting line?”

Peter could understand the horror in Neal’s voice - it perfectly echoed his own reaction to that possibility.

“Oh, no - you’ll still report directly to me and to the Board - but so much of what you do is going to reflect on Peter’s work - and you know that I want you to get started on the Finance group here in New York, so you’ll need to have a good relationship with him.”

Sonia turned serious and gave both men a gimlet stare.

“I want both of you to sort out your differences - and I am not going to brook any disagreement from either of you.”

Peter tried to hide smile. “You’re ordering us to ‘play nice’?”

“If I have to - but I don’t think I will need to.”

“Why do you say that?” Peter wondered if she knew about this past weekend. But no, it was almost something worse.

“I’m not the only one with friends at the FBI and in the DOJ, Peter. It wasn’t hard to find out that you had a great deal of respect for the man you chased for three years. So much respect that you made a very eloquent request to the trial judge for a lenient sentence - which the judge apparently agreed with. The four that Neal got was originally supposed to be fifteen.”

Peter didn’t say anything about his communication with the court. He’d reach out to Jones and ask him to trace that leak some time. Neal didn’t say anything at this news, but Peter could read the delight in his body language.

“You’re right, Sonia - I do respect Neal - his intelligence, and his resourcefulness. In fact, I am ecstatic that he’s made a life for himself that doesn’t include frauds, forgeries and confidence schemes.”

“So - you’ll be able to work with Neal?”

“I don’t see why not.” Peter grinned at Sonia. Damn it, this was not going to be easy.

“Neal - will you have problems with Peter? He is, after all - the person responsible for catching you and putting you in prison.”

Neal caught Peter’s eye, and he could read the mischief there. “Sonia - apparently, Peter’s also the reason why I’m not still in prison. So I can’t see why I’d have any problems.” The little shit actually held out his hand to him again. “No hard feelings, Agent Burke?”

Peter took Neal’s warm, smooth palm and shook it. “Don’t call me that, Caffrey.”

“Good! Then you won’t mind having dinner together tonight?”

Both of them looked at Sonia - maybe she did know what was going on between them.

“I had made dinner reservations for the three of us at Daniel’s, but Jack called, and I’m going to have to cancel. But this will be a nice way for the two of you to get acquainted as civilians. And the pressed duck is to die for.”

Peter wasn’t a fan - but he wasn’t going to mention that. Neal was looking at him like he wanted to make a meal out of him, and damn it, he was reacting to that.

They were going to have to have a little chat about office decorum.

Sonia interrupted his train of thought. “There’s a car waiting for you downstairs. Go - I have a few things to do here before I can get home to my husband.”

She actually took their arms and pushed them out the door. Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just been played.

---

“We’ve been played.” Neal kept his voice to a stage whisper as they left Sonia’s office.

Peter looked at him – his expression was undecipherable.

Neal rocked back on his heels, hands up. “Peter – I had no idea.” He didn’t – the last person he ever expected to see in Sonia’s office was the man he just spent the weekend with. The man he was falling hard for. The man who sent him to prison.

“No – I believe you.”

Neal relaxed. “I thought you said you retired.”

“No, I said I left the Bureau. I didn’t stay I was retired.”

You’re really splitting hairs there, Agent Burke?

They walked back to Peter’s office, and Neal stopped when he saw that the lights were still on. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

“We’re going to have to talk about this undercover business.”

Neal grinned. “We’re going to have to talk about a lot of things. And yeah, I understand the irony of this request - please don’t blow my cover.” He went to the elevators and covertly watched Peter greet his admin.

As Sonia had promised, there was a car waiting for them – a limo, not just a town car. Neal put up the privacy screen, leaned back and while he waited for Peter, he contemplated the coincidences that brought them here.

Either there were too many coincidences or Peter rushed to join him, because Neal didn’t get beyond walking into that bar on Friday night when the door opened and Peter sat down next to him.

Neal thought about pouncing on Peter, but he was a few seconds too late. As the car pulled out into traffic, Neal found himself surrounded by the other man, pressed back into the leather seat, his face cupped in Peter’s hands, his lips quickly bit and kissed swollen.

Neal gave as good as he got, biting and sucking. Peter tasted like bitter coffee, and Neal thought how easily he could get addicted to that.

The limo braked suddenly, and both men nearly slid off the seat. Peter recovered first. “We’re going too fast.”

Neal nodded – this was going to get out of control if they weren’t careful. “Do you have any idea what I felt like seeing you standing there, in Sonia’s office?”

“Like when I busted you?”

Neal glared at Peter in mock outrage. “Stop playing the heavy, Agent Burke. Apparently you saved me eleven years in prison.”

“You weren’t supposed to find out about that. No one was.”

“I think you’re going to learn just how frighteningly effective Sonia Feldman is when she wants something.”

“I know – but that email was to a Federal Judge. She shouldn’t…”

“What did it say?” Neal was insatiably curious.

Peter closed his eyes in exasperation. “It wasn’t an official statement or anything. I had gotten wind that the prosecutor was going to ask for fifteen years, based on some of the more obscure provisions of the Federal Sentencing Guidelines.” He looked at Neal. “I merely pointed out to the judge that a disproportionately lengthy sentence could get your conviction thrown out, and I didn’t want to have to start chasing you again.”

“That’s it?”

Peter glared at him. “Okay, I may have also mentioned that you were young and this was your first conviction, and that fifteen years smacked of sour grapes by the U.S. Attorney’s Office for their failure to get guilty verdicts on the rest of the indictments. And I also believed you could turn your life around – you weren’t incorrigible, and you really were a good man.”

Neal was stunned. “You really did care about me.”

“Yeah – I did. And you know something else?”

“What?”

“I was right, Caffrey. You’ve proven me right.” A few simple words, maybe meant to be gloating, revealed far too much.

Neal found himself shaking. He pressed his hands, with suddenly sweaty palms, against his thighs to keep from revealing the tremors. “This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?”

“Yeah - it is. What are was going to do about it?”

“I know I don’t want to be your dirty secret. I’m not saying we have to live the life – but I don’t think I can bear to be denied.”

Peter pulled him close, into his lap. “I think we’re thinking of two different problems.”

He looked up at Peter. “We are?”

“I’m wondering about Concordine’s fraternization policy – and both our fiduciary duties to the company that pays our very generous salaries. I’m not worried about people knowing I’m gay. I’ll be as out as I – as we – need to be. I’ve never hidden what I was – what I am – and I don’t intend to start now.”

Neal relaxed into Peter’s arms. “Oh, in that case - there is no problem. We tell Sonia – she’ll be fine with it. The Board won’t care.”

Peter snorted, his warm breath tickling Neal’s scalp. “Fine with it? Hmmm. You know, I still want to know how you got this job. I’m pretty sure it didn’t involve answering an ad in the paper.”

Neal ignored Peter’s quest for information. “Don’t worry. Tomorrow morning, we’ll talk to Sonia. I’ll bet you fifty bucks, she wants to give away the groom and pay for the wedding.”

“Groom? Wedding? Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you, Caffrey?”

“Hey – I’m not proposing…just saying. Trust me, okay?”

---

The limo pulled up to the restaurant, and the driver opened the door for them. Peter got out first, then held out a hand for Neal who smiled up at him like the sunrise.

He couldn’t help but think, It should not have happened like this.

And then, Since when is love predictable?


FIN