Chapter 14: Big Brother

A New York City park. January 7, 2004 – Wednesday evening.

Neal watched as Henry and Peter sized each other up. He would rather have avoided letting them meet, but he had to play the hand he was dealt. "The stare down is impressive," he said, "but it's getting dark. I vote we take this indoors. Preferably someplace with food."

"There's a sports bar –" Peter started.

"There's a pizza place –" Henry said at the same time.

"Right. Irish pub it is. Follow me." Neal took off, hoping they would follow rather than stand around arguing about where to eat. But he knew there was a good chance their mutual love of arguing would win out.

"Why'd you want him to take your wallet?" Peter's voice came from behind. Good, they were following.

"It was a test. He was in the hospital a week ago. I should ask how he's doing, but I know he'll say fine no matter what. This way I could see for myself that he's still physically and mentally able to keep up."

"I'll have to remember that," Peter said. Neal wasn't sure he wanted Peter to learn these tricks.

"That's why you came to New York?" Neal turned around to ask. "It wasn't anything about Shawn having plans here?"

Henry shrugged. "I can multitask."

"I'd like to meet Shawn," Peter said. "Can he join us?"

"No," said Henry.

"Not gonna happen," added Neal, as he opened the door to the pub.

They were seated in a booth, with Peter and Henry taking opposite sides. Neal slid in next to Henry and ordered wine, while they selected beer. When they had drinks in hand and food ordered, they really started to talk. Henry kicked off the conversation with, "How do you like working for the FBI, Neal?"

Neal stared at his wine glass as he answered, "It's great."

"Not as enthusiastic as the last time we talked," Henry said.

"Are you trying to make this awkward?" Neal asked. "Because if so, you're doing a fantastic job."

"Neal," said Peter, his voice full of authority. Sometimes he really did sound like a dad.

Neal sighed, and reluctantly met Peter's eyes. "Thirty days, Peter."

"I knew you wouldn't be happy about that. You're right, it's excessive. I choose something that long as a starting point, to negotiate down once you were ready."

"You want something from him," Henry said.

"I want to make sure he's safe," Peter countered. "And honestly, I'm concerned that you might be a bad influence. Something he definitely does not need if he's going to turn his life around."

"I'm a bad influence? Are you kidding me? He wouldn't have survived past his teens if it weren't for me."

Neal said, "True, but you were still a bad influence."

"I taught you important life skills."

"Like picking pockets, picking locks, hot wiring cars."

"Like playing poker, reading your opponents and bluffing."

"Like card tricks and sleight-of-hand."

"Who doesn't love a good card trick?" Henry asked. "And I introduced you to Shawn. What more could a teenage runaway ask for?"

"Good point," Neal said.

"That brings us back to what I wanted from you, Neal," Peter said. He raised his beer mug in Henry's direction. "I wanted you to tell me about him. I wanted to know enough to be sure he isn't going to endanger either you or your deal with the FBI."

Henry put down his own mug and leaned back in the booth. He crossed his arms and asked, "What does Neal get in exchange for information about me?"

"His assignment of thirty days of surveillance work in the van will be reduced."

Henry glanced at Neal, "How badly do you want this?"

Neal shrugged. "It's no big deal. I can handle it."

Henry studied Neal a moment before returning his attention to Peter. "What do you want to know, Agent Burke?"

"You don't have to do this," Neal insisted.

"Yeah, yeah. You can take care of yourself. I get it. But your boss here is determined to take care of you by protecting you from me, and I've already told him I'll protect you from him. We need to get this over with, or you're always going to be stuck in the middle, trying to please us both."

Peter frowned. "I get information. Neal avoids something he dislikes. What do you get out of this?"

"You'll be surprised how much I get." Henry turned to Neal, "What have you told him, so far?"

"Our mothers were best friends growing up. You were there when the Marshals took us away from D.C. And about Vegas, how I started borrowing your identity. That's all."

"There was something else," Peter said. "In the hospital in New Haven, you called Henry the alternate you. You said he's who you would have been, if your father hadn't gotten into trouble."

Henry toasted Neal. "They gave you the good drugs, didn't they? Fire away, Agent Burke."

"Tell me something about you that Neal doesn't know."

"How much time out of the van are you giving for this question?"

"Depends on how good the answer is."

Neal watched as Henry thought through his options and finally said, "Robert blackmailed me into joining the family business last year."

"The bonds I forged?" Neal asked.

Henry nodded. "He wouldn't give the evidence to the cops if I agreed to stay for at least three years."

"Damn it, Henry. I'd rather have done time." Neal rested his head in his hands a moment, hating to face the friend who had made such a sacrifice for him. Then a thought occurred to him and he looked up again. "But I have immunity for those bonds now. You can quit."

Henry smiled a particularly grim smile. "Not yet. I have a plan to turn the tables on Robert."

Neal had a bad feeling about this. "What have you done?"

"Don't worry. Everything's under control, now." Henry turned his attention to Peter. "How much time did that gain?"

"First I need to confirm you followed the rules. Neal, did you know Winslow had been blackmailed into taking the job?"

It took more effort than it should to maintain a poker face. Ever since Neal had introduced Peter as his stepfather, the man had remained locked in the part of Neal's mind that belonged to the ideal of dad. For a month, Neal had managed to hide the fact that he couldn't tell a direct lie to Peter. He trusted Peter, but didn't like the thought of anyone having that kind of power over him.

"Neal," Peter said, "you immediately knew how Winslow had been blackmailed. That makes me think you weren't surprised to hear it happened."

Neal sighed. "It had crossed my mind, when Henry first took the job." He shrugged at his friend. "I didn't know, but after all the times you'd said you'd never work for them, I wondered how they convinced you. Why didn't you tell me?"

Henry caught the waiter's eye and gestured for another beer. "I knew you'd decide it was your fault, when the blame all lies with Robert. Listen, Neal. It's worked out for the best. I'm good at this work, and I enjoy it. The only downside is who I work for, and that's going to change if we're patient. I know what I'm doing. You have to trust me." He paused as the new beer arrived. "But let's focus on tonight. You couldn't just tell your boss here that you didn't know about the blackmail?"

"No, I couldn't."

Henry looked at Neal intensely for a moment, enough to let Neal know that he would insist on returning to this issue later. But he simply said to Peter, "How much time did I earn?"

"One day," Peter said. "Next question is about Christmas. When Neal went to D.C., he told me he wouldn't run into any Caffreys there because they were spending the holidays in New York. He said you told him about their plans. I assume you knew through your mother, who stayed in contact with the family even after Neal and his mother disappeared."

"I don't hear a question," Henry said. "Are you asking me to confirm your speculation?"

Peter refused to be rushed or rattled. "I want to know how and where you spent Christmas Eve through the twenty-seventh of December. The more pertinent details, the more time you win back. But if you waste my time, then I'll be less generous."

Neal had to be impressed. Peter had deduced that Henry could fill in the gaps that Neal had left by telling Peter only what he'd done on Christmas Day. The fact that Peter would select this as one of his questions showed that he really was worried about what Neal had been up to over that long weekend.

Henry asked, "Will you add time on if I annoy you, or if I refuse to answer a question?"

"No, that wouldn't be fair to Neal. I'm not going to punish him for having annoying friends."

"Thank you," Neal had to say, not only out of gratitude, but also to give Henry more time to think through his answer.

"My parents are divorced," Henry said. "I spent Christmas Eve with one side of the family, and Christmas Day with the other. You wouldn't find the details pertinent. On the morning of the twenty-sixth I caught a flight to D.C., and hung out with Neal for two days."

"Doing what?" Peter asked.

Neal held his breath.

"I can't tell you that," Henry said. "The rules are: you ask questions about me, and only about me. I'm not going to provide information about Neal that he has decided not to share."

Neal exhaled.

Peter frowned. "But my interest in you is related to how you interact with and influence Neal."

"Not my problem. You'll have to be smarter about your questions. How much time did I win back?"

"An hour. You didn't tell me anything I didn't already suspect." Peter paused in his questioning as the waiter delivered their food. Peter had ordered a steak, Neal had the salmon, and Henry had the corned beef. As they ate, Peter talked to Henry about sports, learning he was a fan of baseball, football, and soccer. But Henry's favorite teams didn't center around any specific city or even a region of the country to help Peter narrow down where he lived. He also confessed to being a fan of curling, which surprised a laugh out of Neal.

"Seriously?" he asked. "When did that happen?"

"Last winter Olympics," Henry said. "How could I not love something that bizarre? It speaks to me."

Neal met Peter's eyes, and saw he was equally amused.

"For that, you win another day," Peter said. "How did you learn to pick pockets and locks and hot wire cars, and how have you stayed in practice?"

"Back to business, are we? If I tell you that, I want a week."

"If it's a good answer," Peter said, "your total, including the two days and one hour you've already won, will be a week."

"There's a tradition, on my dad's side of the family: the men are supposed to start their career either in the military or the police force, and then they join the family business. My dad was a cop."

"Alternate me," Peter said. "Both of your dads were cops."

"Yeah, the parallels are scary, aren't they? Mine was a straight arrow, though. He attributed much of his success to learning how criminals worked. He picked up skills like picking locks. And because he expected me to follow in his footsteps, he started teaching me those same skills around the time I turned ten. My parents divorced when I was sixteen. It was bitter and ugly, and I blamed my dad for a lot of that. Mom said he put his job ahead of his family, and I agreed. I decided not to follow the Winslow family tradition, and he was madder than hell about that. To escape all of the drama, I took extra classes and summer school, and finished high school a year early. Then I went out of state for college, and studied psychology for three years."

"Did you graduate early again?" Peter asked.

"No, something happened that I'm not going to go into. It meant dropping out of school and going under the radar. By then my dad was working for the family business and had access to a frightening array of resources for tracking people down. I had to be creative. Once in a while I hot wired cars from large fleets or auto dealerships to travel. I broke into abandoned buildings for shelter, and conned hotel desk clerks into thinking I had a reservation. When I saw someone flashing a lot of money, I'd pick his wallet and then run after him to return it, saying I'd seen him drop it; usually the mark would see all his cash was still there and be grateful enough to give me a big reward. That's how I kept in practice with some less savory skills. Eventually I made a deal with my dad, that I'd call in once a month to let everyone know I was okay, and in return they got me off the missing persons list and didn't use company resources to track me down. With that pressure off my back, I turned to Shawn for more legal alternatives for survival."

"It's still hard to believe you work for them now," Neal said.

"They needed to be shaken up a little," Henry said. "I'm the perfect person to do that. And their resources are coming in handy, to make sure the FBI doesn't take advantage of you."

"You weren't exaggerating about that?" Peter asked.

"No. We really out-do Big Brother when it comes to data. Did I earn that week out of the van?"

Peter nodded. "That was very informative. Next question: where did you stay while you were in D.C. the twenty-sixth & twenty-seventh of December?"

Neal could see the change in direction took Henry by surprise. "Our..." Henry started, paused, and then said, "You know my mother came from D.C. Her parents still live there. I stayed at their house."

"Were they there?" Peter asked.

"No, but I have a key."

"Did you use it?"

Henry grinned. "I like to stay in practice. No, I didn't use the key to get in, but afterward I did give them a few suggestions for improving their security. Did that win another day out of the van?"

"A half day," Peter said. "When we spoke on the phone, you said if Neal were arrested it would ruin everything. What did you mean by that?"

Neal didn't know about that comment, and couldn't guess the reason behind it. He looked at Henry for the answer.

"I mentioned I'm turning the tables on Robert. I made a counter deal that if I stick with the family business for five years, I can open my own branch in New York. I can hire anyone I want. But at Robert's suggestion they tagged on what they're calling a 'morals clause' that says I can't associate with a convicted felon for ten years from my start of employment. If Neal's arrested and convicted, I can't communicate with him until early 2013. Robert was sure you'd self-destruct and that clause would keep you away from me and the company."

"Why would you agree to that?" Neal asked. "And why wouldn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to put any pressure on you. I wasn't even sure I'd be able to last there five years, myself. But it's working out better than I expected. Think about it. Our own branch. We could run it our way, and the experience you're getting at the FBI is icing on the cake."

"Maybe I won't want to leave the FBI four years from now," Neal said.

"You don't have to. But you'll have options, this way. Could you have imagined, a year ago, having two legal employment options open to you?"

"What I can imagine," Neal said, "is you getting your own branch four years from now, and you and Peter having an epic argument about who's the better boss. This whole father figure versus big brother feud is never going to end. Maybe I should return to a life of crime."

"No!" both Peter and Henry exclaimed.

Neal grinned. "You have something in common, after all. How much time out of the van did Henry win?"

"Two more days," Peter said.

The waiter left the bill on their table. Peter and Henry both grabbed for it. They were launching into an argument about who would pay when Neal asked, "Will you take it down to fifteen days in the van if Henry tells you how and why he found me when I ran away?"

That distracted them both from noticing that Neal put his own credit card on the check and slid it to the edge of the table for the waiter to pick up.

"You trust Burke not to turn in our mothers for their less than legal behavior?" Henry asked.

"Peter?" Neal asked.

The agent took a deep breath, took out his badge and placed it upside down on the table. "I'm just a guy listening to a story in a pub. A story from a stranger I don't necessarily trust. It would be irresponsible of me to take his word about any alleged crimes."

Henry raised his mug in a toast to Peter. "I'm starting to like you, Agent Burke." When he put the mug down again he said, "According to the rules, Neal's mom shouldn't have had any contact with family or friends after she was relocated. But once a year, around Christmas, she would find a way to call my mom."

"Wouldn't that have been difficult?" Peter asked. "People are busy that time of year and often travel over the holidays. Why not call at a less frenzied, less obvious time?"

"Sentimentality," Henry said. "It was their birthday. My mom, Noelle, was born Christmas Eve. Meredith was born Christmas Day. More of those scary parallels I mentioned."

"You've crossed from scary to unbelievable," Peter said.

Neal decided it was time to tell Peter one of the secrets he'd been holding on to. "They were sisters. Twins. One born in the last minutes of the twenty-fourth, and the other in the first minutes of the twenty-fifth. They weren't going to let something minor like the law or danger keep them apart."

"You're cousins." Peter looked at them both closely. "Yeah, I can see it. Similar noses. Same obnoxious grin. I'll bet Winslow's hair gets wavy when it grows as long as yours. Okay. The twins talk at Christmas. How does that lead to you meeting again?"

"When I was fourteen," Henry continued, "my dad figured out that they were keeping in touch. It led to a big fight, Dad being on the law-and-order side while Mom was on the twins-won't-be-separated side. Afterward I found a box of old photo albums and documents Mom never pulled out when anyone was around. There were pictures of Meredith and Neal, and it triggered some memories. For all of the training my dad had pushed on me, it was the first time I'd shown any interest in solving a mystery. When my dad found me going through the box, he was thrilled. He decided it was time to make his move from cop to the family business."

"Where he had access to those resources you keep mentioning."

"Exactly. He tracked the phone numbers Meredith had called us from over the years, and could tell she was in the St. Louis area. He'd bring me to the office, where we did searches on human interest stories about elementary schools, churches, boy scouts, all kind of things in that area. When we found photos of classes or choirs or other groups of children, we'd look for a boy who sort of resembled me. Eventually we landed on Danny Brooks as the most likely match. He had a single mother who was the right age and who had moved to St. Louis at the right time. For my dad it was all an exercise in detection and deduction. He didn't care what we found. What he cared about was that I kept returning to do more research. Over the next two years, up until the divorce and dropping out of my dad's life, I found a lot of stuff about Danny. When I came across the hospital records and court records, I didn't tell anyone." Henry turned to Neal. "I regret that, now. Maybe if he'd known..."

"I can't imagine Robert would have done anything differently," Neal said. "He's not into pity, and I don't want it. Can you fast forward a few years? I don't want to dwell on the whole abuse thing. It's getting old." As soon as Neal said it, he regretted it. He knew Peter wouldn't let it go.

As expected, Peter chimed in with, "Henry, as Neal's friend – as his family and his emergency contact – you should know he's been having flashbacks to that time. Three in the last month."

"That's not fair," Neal protested. "Two of those times I was drugged, and the other time I was hurt. There were exceptional circumstances that won't occur again. I'm fine."

"I didn't know you were hurt," Henry said. "When was this?"

"It was just a sprain. I'm not going to call you about every minor injury. Hell, you want an update next time I get a paper cut or come down with a cold?"

"You wouldn't be this touchy about it, normally. Something about the sprain was traumatic. Burke, can you tell me what happened?"

"It was an accident," Neal insisted.

"It was my fault," Peter said.

"No, it was Hitchum," Neal corrected.

"Neal." Peter paused and waited for Neal to meet his eyes. Then he said, "Shut up." While Neal dealt with the surprise of that order, Peter said, "When Neal joined my team, I wanted to make the point that I wouldn't tolerate any illegal behavior. We staged a mock arrest when I realized Neal had used your identity to travel back to New York, and one of my agents got too rough. I didn't realize Neal had been hurt. When Neal couldn't hide the sprain anymore, it became apparent he thought I knew, that he thought I'd ordered Hitchum to do it to make my point. Believe me," Peter held up a hand to stave off the comments it was obvious Henry was about to make, "I've seen the error of my ways. I've apologized and made my team aware that I made a big mistake in kicking off that chain of events. The point is, it triggered a flashback. And despite my best efforts, I can't convince Neal to talk to anyone about it."

Henry was about to respond when the waiter returned with Neal's credit card. "Hey! Who said you could pay?" Henry asked.

"I picked the venue," Neal said, putting away the card and pulling over the check to calculate the tip. He was grateful for the interruption. "Stay focused. You were supposed to describe how you found me."

"I'll stay focused," Henry retorted. "You thought your latest father figure had caused you to be hurt, which then led you to flashback to your mom's old boyfriend beating you up, and you think I'm going to ignore it?"

"Armchair psychologist," Neal accused. "I told you: exceptional circumstances. I'm fine."

"Right," Henry said. "You're fine. Meanwhile you're scaring the hell out of the rest of us."

"Observing one little flashback did not traumatize Peter," Neal insisted.

"Observing three of them might have," Peter said. "I'm worried about what I might say, or what might happen in the next case that will trigger another one. Especially if there's a gun involved. That's another reason for keeping you in the van awhile."

"Great. Now father figure and big brother are ganging up on me. How many times do I have to tell you I'm fine?"

"Telling me doesn't help. Show me," Henry said. "Prove you're both fine."

"Both?" Neal repeated.

"Your past father figures haven't been good for you. At all. When I see you've collected another one, I worry. Show me I don't have to worry about either of you."

"How?" Neal asked.

"I want to try an experiment. If you get through it and don't have any flashbacks or nightmares tonight, I'll believe you're fine."

"Wait," Peter protested. "I don't like the sound of this."

"Afraid of the truth, Agent Burke? I think you should be aware of how dangerous you are to Neal's psyche. Being a father figure is no joke."

When Henry set his mind on something, he was a force to be reckoned with. Neal knew from experience that it was easier to play along, find out what Henry had in mind, and then argue with him.

Peter dove straight into arguing. "Neal, I can't believe you're okay with this guy messing with your head. Armchair psychologist, you keep calling him. He doesn't even have a degree."

"Of course I have a degree," Henry said.

"You dropped out of college at twenty."

"Yeah, but I only had a year left. I finished up that degree eventually, and then got a masters."

"I helped," Neal offered.

"You..." Peter looked confused. "You helped with what?"

"I helped with his master's degree. Really, every con artist should study psychology. It's amazing what you can learn."

Henry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you have amazing insight into everyone but yourself. Now obviously we can't do this here. Can we run the experiment at your place, Neal, or do we have to go to Agent Burke's home?"

"I want home field advantage," Peter said.

"It's settled then," Henry said. "We'll grab a change of clothes and spend the night at your place."

"Whoa. What? Spend the night?" Peter asked.

"I'm monitoring for nightmares. Those generally happen when people are asleep. At night. I want you both present to confirm my results. That way you'll know I'm not making up or exaggerating anything. Neal, my car is about a block away. I can take you by your place to pack. Do you know where Burke lives?" Henry was about as stoppable as a tsunami.

"Yeah, I've been there," Neal confirmed.

"What are we waiting for?" Henry asked. "Let's move."

Neal rode the wave, knowing patience was his best approach. Peter seemed swept away. As Henry was bustling Neal toward his rental car, Neal called out a warning to Peter, "You might want to call Elizabeth."

The last thing Neal heard from Peter was swearing, as the agent realized he was about to surprise his wife with two overnight guests.