White Collar - "Desperate Deed" (2/6)
Title: Desperate Deed
Chapter: 2 of 6
Author: TeeJay
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence
Full header in chapter 1
Chapter 2
- Devil Man -
After the better part of a week spent chasing leads that didn't go anywhere (yes, they now had Benson's address, but that was about all they had on the guy), Peter's optimism was starting to dwindle. He had received another e-mail that was much along the same lines as the others. Vague threats that couldn't be traced or investigated.
Outwardly, Peter seemed okay, but Neal could tell that it was starting to make him nervous. He kept insisting that it was merely a precaution, but Neal had a feeling it was growing worry (and maybe a hunch or two) that made Peter's and Elizabeth's personal and social lives come to an almost complete standstill. When Peter wasn't working, he was at home, keeping an eye on his wife as much as possible. Elizabeth was almost exclusively working from home. They tried not to go out unless it was absolutely necessary. A patrol car was stationed outside their house whenever Peter wasn't there, but Peter knew they could only keep this up for so long.
And sure enough, Hughes came into Peter's office that same day. From the look on his face, Peter already knew this couldn't be good.
"Burke, NYPD just called. They've been watching your home for a solid week with no indication of anything remotely threatening. They're putting a lid on this, and there's little I can do about it."
Peter didn't like it, but it wasn't like he had any leverage either. At least Hughes gave him permission to work home-based as much as he could until this was squared away.
The next day, he was sitting at their dining room table when the next message came in.
scared yet, burke? you better be prepared when i make my move.
With a frustrated grunt, he slammed the Blackberry down on the table so that it clattered onto the wooden surface. It was unbelievable that IT still hadn't found a way to trace the e-mails. This needed to stop. They needed to catch whoever was doing this, because Peter wasn't sure how many more nights of fitful and too little sleep he could take, groping for the gun on his nightstand whenever there was the tiniest sound in the house. He'd already almost shot Satchmo one night.
"Honey," Elizabeth came bustling into the room. "I know I'm not supposed to go out, but I really need to go to the office. I have all my files there, and there are some things I just can't do from here. I already have a huge list of things for the office. And it's just... becoming too much."
Peter rubbed his face with one hand. "Yeah, I know," he sighed. "I wish there was something... anything I could do. I hate this as much as you do."
She gave him a well-meant smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I know it's not your fault. And I'm not blaming you. I just... I need to go. Why don't you come with me? There's wireless internet, you can work just as well from there."
Peter pondered the idea for a minute and finally acquiesced. Within fifteen minutes, they were on their way.
They were about halfway there when the Taurus's screen indicated an incoming call from Hughes. "Burke, where are you?"
"In the car, on the way to my wife's office," he answered.
"Is your wife with you?"
"Yeah."
"Well, then bring her and we'll keep an eye on her here. Something big is going down and we need every man we have right now."
Peter acknowledged and hung up.
Elizabeth looked at him, her mouth forming a thin line. "Really, I don't need babysitting. Can't you just drop me off at the office? I promise to lock all the doors and not let anyone in. I can't be sitting in your office, twiddling my thumbs. There's the reception on Friday, and the wedding on Saturday. Things are already tight as they are."
"El-"
"No, you don't get to 'El' me. You're driving me to my office, end of discussion. I'm not gonna let this... this creep, whoever he is, run my life anymore."
"Listen, it's not safe."
"Nothing's safe, Peter," she huffed at him. "I could be run over by a car whenever I step out into the street. Or catch this new E. coli bug that's been killing people. There's no such thing as safe."
Peter stared out the windscreen. Things were already testy in the Burke home. He had a feeling this'd tear apart the fragile ground they were treading on.
"At least let me call Neal, have him stay with you."
She grumbled something, but looked like she realized it would be her best shot.
Neal readily agreed to come and play guard, though he had concerns about how exactly he could protect Elizabeth. "Say someone indeed comes there to, I don't know, do something to Elizabeth. What exactly do you expect me to do, Peter? I don't have a gun, or any other kind of weapon."
"I know," Peter said. "You're resourceful. Find something you can use as a club. Look around. There's plenty of stuff that can be transformed into a weapon if need be."
"Are you preemptively absolving me of committing a violent crime?"
"No," Peter quickly hissed into the phone. "No. Just- Do what you need to do, all right? Besides, the guy is after me, and not Elizabeth. This is merely a precaution."
"Right."
"You okay with this?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Listen, Hughes needs me in the office straight away. I'll tell El to lock up and that you'll call her cell when you're there."
After acknowledgement from Neal, he hung up.
Peter parked the car and took a tour of the premises, just to be safe and make sure no intruders were hiding in any corners. He would have preferred to wait for Neal to get there, but that couldn't be helped now.
To El, he said, "Call me or the Bureau if there's anything suspicious. And I mean anything. Do you remember the code word?"
"Yes," she told him. "Cocktail umbrella."
He gave Elizabeth a kiss on the lips before he left, making her promise to lock all the doors and not let anyone in save for Neal.
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Half an hour later, Neal arrived at Burke Premiere Events. As instructed, he called El's cell phone. It rang a few times, then went to voicemail. That puzzled him, so he knocked on the door. When he didn't get any response, he knocked again, more forcefully. Still no answer. He called Elizabeth's name for good measure.
Something was wrong, he knew it. His fingers hovered over the speed dial button for a long moment. Should he be calling Peter?
Neal clenched his jaw in tense anticipation of having to bear bad news, but only got voicemail as well. He left a message. "Peter, I'm not sure when you'll get this, but I have a feeling something's wrong. I'm at Elizabeth's office, but she's not answering her phone or the door. If you don't hear from me in the next fifteen or twenty minutes, you should send someone."
He contemplated calling someone else to make sure his message was received, but then discarded the thought. This could be totally harmless, maybe Elizabeth just took a bio break. So he did the next best thing he could think of: He reached inside his jacket pocket and got out the lockpicking tools he tended to keep on him. This one wasn't hard to pick, and he had the door open in less than two minutes.
He looked around, but nothing seemed amiss. He contemplated calling her name, but then thought better of it. He knew he might be overreacting, but what if he wasn't? He remembered his earlier conversation with Peter about not having a gun. A weapon would certainly be good now. He looked around for anything he could use.
There was a set of fire irons in the corner of the room that was made up like a living room for display purposes. He quickly grabbed one of the black iron bars and edged closer to the door to Elizabeth's office, opening it as quietly as he could. It was empty.
Neal looked around. What was he missing? There was a muffled sound from the door that led to the adjacent storage room. As soon as he opened it, he could see Elizabeth sitting on the floor, cowering almost. All caution forgotten, he rushed towards her even before he consciously processed her frightened eyes, the bruise on her cheek, the split lip.
"Elizabeth," he urgently whispered, but she shrank away from him, her eyes filling with more panic.
He stopped short at her flinch, confused, the fire iron still firmly in his hand. Before he could look, think, react, there was a menacing, growling voice behind him. "Drop that or I'll shoot you."
Neal spun around, facing his opponent.
"I said drop it!" the guy urged.
The fire iron clattered to the floor next to Neal's foot, barely missing his toes. "What do you want?"
The guy chuckled. "What do I want? I want... I want her to die, that's what I want!"
Neal protectively took a step sideways so he could put himself as a shield between the man and Elizabeth.
"Don't move," came the sharp command.
Neal lifted his arms defensively. "Okay. Okay."
"Who the hell are you?"
Neal had to think quickly. Should he be using an alias? This could only be the guy who was threatening Peter. Was there any way to con his way out of this? Unlikely with the guy wielding a gun, and himself now without the only weapon he had.
"George Donnelly," Neal said. Hopefully, if it would ever be of any use, Peter would recognize that Neal was using an alias they had burned recently-together.
"Ah, George Donnelly," the guy rolled the name around in his mouth, a mocking edge to it. His face became grim, his voice almost a shout, "If I wanted your damn name, I would have asked for it! What the hell are you doing here? I thought the bitch locked the door." He nodded at Elizabeth.
"She did," Neal quickly assured him. "I broke in."
"Are you fucking kidding me? A burglar?" Then the guy realized something. "How did you know her name?"
There was no way Neal could conjure up a believable story out of thin air, so he did the only thing he could think of that might not get them both killed on the spot. He told the truth. "I'm not a burglar. I was supposed to keep an eye on her. When I found the door locked, I was worried, so I picked the lock."
The guy seemed to be evaluating the story in his head, trying to decide whether to believe it or not. It seemed to be good enough for him. "Show me you're not armed."
Neal took off his suit jacket and demonstrated he had no weapons on him.
"Ankles," the guy instructed, and when Neal lifted his pant legs, he indicated at the device around Neal's leg. "What's that?"
"What's it look like? It's a tracking anklet."
"What is this? You some kind of criminal?"
"Yeah."
"Brilliant," the guy chuckled sarcastically. "Just brilliant. The FBI sends a parolee to guard Burke's wife. Gimme your phone. Then sit down." He vaguely waved his gun at Elizabeth. "Next to her."
Neal did as he was told, and looked at Elizabeth. "You okay?" he carefully addressed her.
"Yeah," she said hoarsely.
"Stop talking," the guy barked.
Neal looked him square in the eyes, his own having gone cold. "Jake, right? Jake Benson."
"How do you know my name?"
"Come on, Jake, the FBI is not stupid. After all those e-mails, it wasn't hard to go from there."
"Well, this is even better. Makes things easier, I guess. Of course I'm gonna have to kill you too." He instructed Elizabeth, "Now call your husband again, bitch! And remember what I said."
She took her cell phone again and dialed with shaking hands. After a few seconds of apprehensive silence, she shook her head. "Still voicemail."
"Well, then leave a fucking message. We'll just have to wait until he picks it up. Make sure he realizes this is urgent. And no messing around, or you'll both be dead."
She waited for Peter's message to finish, then said in a shaky voice that she tried to make sound cheerful, "Hey, Honey. I'm not sure where you are, but I forgot to unload the cocktail umbrellas you have in the trunk. I need them very urgently for the reception. Can you come, drop them off?"
She hung up and Benson stared at her with pure disdain. "Now we wait," he said, sitting down in one of the desk chairs, his gun still pointed at Neal and Elizabeth.
Neal watched him warily, then turned his attention to Elizabeth. The cut on her lip was little more than superficial, the mark on her cheek would soon be turning from red to blue. Her hair and clothes were disheveled, the hem of her blouse having been pulled out of the waistband of her pantsuit. He had never seen her so intimidated, so frightened-and suddenly a thought occurred to him that shocked him. The assault to her face notwithstanding, had this guy done more than just hit her?
"Elizabeth." His throat was suddenly dry. "Did he- Did he assault you? You know, uh..." He couldn't say it.
She closed her eyes, then opened them again. "He tried."
Cold rage suddenly bubbled up inside of him and he clenched his jaw. Her hand wrapped around Neal's arm in an iron grip. "No," she said in an urgent whisper. "Don't. He- He didn't get very far."
Neal leaned closer to her, his voice barely audible. "I called Peter, before I broke in. They'll be here. I left a-"
"I said no talking!" Benson barked, waving the gun in their direction.
Neal and Elizabeth stayed silent after that.
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By the time the operation was over and Peter could check his phone again, he had four missed calls and three voice messages-both Neal and Elizabeth among the callers. His sense of foreboding immediately flared. He hastily called his mailbox and listened to the messages.
The one from Elizabeth made him suck in a quick breath. Peter felt the blood drain out of his face as he heard Elizabeth use the code word. The room began to spin around him. Suddenly, he felt unbearably cold. Neal's last call had been over an hour ago. This was bad. Something had happened, someone was threatening his wife.
Peter immediately shouted for Diana and Jones and took them to Hughes to mobilize the forces. Then he called Neal's phone, desperate to find out what was going on.
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The shrill ring of Neal's cell phone startled them all, and Elizabeth physically jumped. Benson looked at the display, then at Neal. "Well, look at that. It's Burke."
He held the phone out to Neal. "Answer it, tell him to come here. Put him on speaker. No tricks."
Neal took the phone and activated the hands-free function. "This is George Donnelly," he answered the phone.
"It's Peter," his voice came over the line. "Is everything all right, George?"
"Yeah, peachy. I know I should have checked in earlier, but this guy we talked about kept me-"
Benson gave Neal a threatening look, so he quickly said, "Listen, can you come down here?" hoping that Peter had gotten the message.
"To Elizabeth's office?"
"Yes. She also tells me she really needs the cocktail umbrellas from your trunk."
There was a brief pause, then Peter said, "Okay, I, uh... I'll be there."
Benson then grabbed the phone, disconnecting the call. "What the hell was that?"
Neal shrugged. "I'm a convicted criminal. I'm supposed to check in every twelve hours. Figured Burke might suspect something's up if I don't."
Benson didn't look convinced. "I swear to you, if you're up to something, you're gonna regret this. And Burke is gonna regret this twice over."
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Peter stared at his phone, the line having suddenly gone dead. The guy they talked about kept Neal from calling back? George Donnelly? What the hell did that mean? It had to be Benson, Peter was positive.
He rejoined Diana and Jones who were mustering the assault team with professional, yet almost tangibly nervous urgency. He listened to the briefing speech Jones gave, growing more impatient by the second. He tried interrupting a few times to rush the process along, but Diana's hand on his arm stopped him with quiet assertiveness.
"They're the best, Boss. We'll get him," she told him.
It didn't do much in terms of reassurance. This was his wife they were talking about!
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The minutes ticked by like hours for Neal and Elizabeth. Benson was getting more fidgety as time went on, and the bad feeling in the pit of Neal's stomach intensified. Sideways glances at Elizabeth told him she was frightened but holding up.
Neal didn't know how much time had passed-it might have been fifteen minutes, it might have been an hour-and then everything changed.
It was the office telephone ringing that had Benson momentarily distracted. Neal would have never expected it, but desperate people would do desperate deeds, and he watched half in surprise, half in horror as Elizabeth jumped up and went for Benson's gun.
If the distance between them had been a foot less, she might even have succeeded, but as it was, her attempt fell short and Benson whirled around at the sudden movement. A shot rang out.
Neal could hear his own scream ringing in his ears. "NO!"
He watched Elizabeth go down, a red stain spreading on the left side of her chest. Before Neal could do anything, Benson jerked the gun up and straight at Neal. "Move, and you're dead."
Neal couldn't not move, couldn't not take a step in Elizabeth's direction, but Benson was suddenly between him and El, holding the gun dangerously close. "Get the fuck back!" he barked.
Neal could only comply, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth's unmoving form on the ground.
"Shit," Benson muttered. "Shit, shit, shit. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to go like this."
He was suddenly by Neal's side, poking the gun into his back, pushing him forward, towards the door. "Move."
Neal didn't want to, but he wasn't stupid. Benson had just proved he was all too trigger-happy, and Neal needed time to think. He stumbled into the main display room.
Through the large windows, it was hard to miss the commotion outside. FBI issue cars were positioned in front of the building, agents in Kevlar vests and FBI windbreakers all around, guns drawn. SWAT was swarming the scene. Peter had brought the circus to town, and Neal had a front row seat. His stomach plummeted. This couldn't end well.
Benson was suddenly furious. "What the fuck is this ? This is your fault! You said something to Burke, a secret word, some kind of code phrase-and now he brought the fucking cavalry!"
"No," Neal pleaded. "This wasn't me! I didn't say anything. Burke's not stupid. He must have figured out something was wrong."
"What the hell did you tell him?"
"Nothing, I swear," Neal tried desperately. "Listen, Jake, think about what you're doing."
"I don't need to think," Benson snarled. "This is all going to hell, and you're my ticket outta here."
"Don't do this," Neal tried again.
"Oh, I'm doing this. I already killed his wife, and I'm going to kill him too."
With that, he snatched Neal and poked his gun in Neal's back, dragging him to the door. Before opening the door, he positioned Neal's body in front of him. As soon as he opened the door, he pointed the gun at the FBI agents.
Neal could hear shouts of, "Stand down! Don't shoot!"
His eyes searched out Peter among the agents, and when they found him, his body shielded by an open car door, he kept thinking, 'Peter, do something!'
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The sudden movement by the door caught Peter's attention, and his eyes went wide when he realized what was going on. He could only watch helplessly as Benson, using Neal as the perfect shield, edged down the stairs.
There were shouts of, "Stand down!" and Peter called out, "Don't shoot!"
Where was Elizabeth? He trained his gun on Benson, but the guy was good. He was holding Neal's whole body in front of him so that a clear shot to hit Benson was nearly impossible, all the while holding the gun in their direction.
He heard Neal's desperate shout, "Shoot him! Peter, shoot the bastard!"
Peter's gun never wavered, but he couldn't shoot. Neal, move!
Benson kept walking, inching with Neal away from the scene. There was no way Peter could fire and not hit Neal.
"I'll kill you, Burke! I'm gonna find you and kill you!" he heard Benson call out, and something in Peter's mind went wild. I'm gonna shoot the bastard! But he couldn't pull the trigger, Neal was still right in the line of fire.
"Drop your gun, Benson! You don't stand a chance!" one of the agents bellowed, but Benson was doing no such thing.
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Neal watched the scene unraveling in front of him as if it was a badly written movie. Benson was dragging him away and no one was doing anything. The elbow of Benson's arm holding the gun was digging into his ribcage, and nobody was stopping them.
Neal looked at Peter, shocked and helpless, and in his mind's eye saw Elizabeth shrinking away from him, her bruised face, the bullet hitting her, her falling to the floor. 'No!' his mind kept screaming. 'No, you can't let this happen!'
He struggled in Benson's grasp, but the guy was holding him too tight. It was an act of desperation, a completely unbridled impulse, and he couldn't even tell how his brain would let him go through with it, but he did the only thing he could think of. He took a hold of Benson's hand and moved it to his own belly, angling it upward. Benson was so focused on the FBI agents, he didn't realize what Neal was doing until...
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continued in
Chapter 3
- 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 -