Chapter 10

Of course Caffrey's sleepwear looks like something a cat burglar would wear, Peter thought while the kid frowned at his phone. He could almost hear the wheels turning as Caffrey weighed the need to return the call against the need to keep the FBI in the dark about something.

"I'm still impaired, right?"

Caffrey didn't look or sound impaired anymore, but it was unlikely the pills had made a difference that quickly. Peter guessed this was a combination of the shower, adrenaline, and a lifestyle that made it second nature to hide weakness. "Let's see." Peter stepped toward Caffrey and placed a palm on the kid's forehead. Caffrey looked so flummoxed that Peter ruffled his hair before pulling back and saying, "Still running a fever."

"I might be delirious."

"Possibly," Peter agreed. "Or maybe I'm just getting into practice for the father-son act we have to put on for the doctor shortly."

"That's, umm, that's a pretty convincing act."

Interesting that simply acting parental had such an impact on Caffrey. The young man who had seemed confident and self-assured only moments ago was staring at Peter in shock. Peter remembered his theory that Neal had grown up in foster care. Clearly his mother had been in the picture at least until he was six. "Do your parents know what--"

"No!" Caffrey shut his eyes a moment, took a deep breath and repeated, "No. Leave my family out of this. I'm the one you're after. They... They're off limits."

"Okay."

"I mean it. Not just until I'm not impaired. You have to leave them alone."

"I promise I won't use them to catch you."

"That's not good enough, Peter. No contacting them or tracking them down. Not for any reason. No one knows where they are. They don't know where I am. It has to stay that way."

"No one? You live a dangerous life. What if something happens to you? Don't you think they'd have a right to know?"

"They may already think I'm dead. It's better that way."

That type of thinking baffled Peter and he wanted to follow up with more questions, but the kid was clearly distressed and still impaired. It wasn't the right time for the Caffrey Conversation. "You need to return that call?"

"Yeah." Caffrey walked over to the windows, getting some distance from Peter. He dialed, waited for an answer and said, "It's me." After a pause, he named the hotel where they were staying and added, "You were right about Roland. He doesn't trust strangers." Caffrey paced as he listened to the person on the other side of the call. "Yeah, I figured that one out already... No, I didn't tell Roland, and you can't, either. Roland would kill him... I know because Roland took a few shots at my car as I was leaving.... Yeah, that was after he decided I was an undercover agent... Well, when I saw what was going on, I may have led him to believe that I wasn't exactly on his side, but what else was I going to do after you warned me he had a violent temper? It was either distract Roland myself, or let him discover Peter was FBI." Caffrey abruptly stopped pacing and swayed slightly.

Peter strode over and pushed Caffrey down onto one of the beds, saying, "Sit down before you fall down." It was cooler near the windows, and Peter saw the kid was shaking.

"My roommate," Caffrey said. "Otherwise known as the client... No. I mean, yes. I mean, a doctor gave me something for the fever and it was absolutely not a truth serum or mind control drug... Your safe house is still safe, but you should stop using this number..."

Peter grabbed one of the plush robes from the closet and draped it over Caffrey's shoulders.

"It's a long story, can you just... No I'm not going to escape through the window... Because we're seven stories up, it's raining, and apparently I'm running a serious fever... Yes, I knew my roommate was a Fed, but I haven't done anything illegal and I'm not under arrest. I'm free to leave whenever I want... I'm sure she would freak out if she knew, but since no one can – Wait. You know where she is, don't you?" He ran his free hand through his hair. "Don't worry her. I mean it. I've got this."

There was a knock at the door, and Peter couldn't tell if Caffrey had noticed. "Wrap it up. The doctor's back."

"I've got to go. Trust me on this. I don't have time to explain, but I need to do this. Just don't call Roland, okay?" Caffrey ended the call as Peter opened the door.

Dr. Santos asked his patient a few questions, took his temperature again, and then handed Peter a liquid night-time medicine that would knock someone out for eight hours. "A good night's rest will make a big difference in how he feels. But this drug leaves people disoriented. Make sure he doesn't take too much. Forgetting you've taken it already and overdosing is fairly common, and I wouldn't leave the bottle if you weren't here to administer it. I'll stop by again in the morning. Check his temperature every few hours and have the front desk call me if you have concerns about his condition. If his fever goes any higher you should consider taking him to a hospital."

"No hospitals," was the first thing Caffrey said after Peter shut the door behind the doctor.

"Why not?" Peter asked.

"I sort of wandered out of a hospital in St. Louis a few years back. If a Neal Caffrey is checked in again they may..." He shook his head. "It could cause a lot of needless trouble. How about we both get out of here and get on a flight back to New York? Right now."

"Not going to happen," Peter said. "You shouldn't be traveling until you're feeling better, and I need to finish things up with Villiers first."

"It's too risky, Peter. The reason my friend called was to tell me Philip Townsend has been arrested. I don't think my friend will tell Roland, but word of that kind of thing spreads quickly. If Roland finds out you were lying about being the client—"

"Your friend," Peter interrupted, "who wanted to know if you were given a truth serum or some mind-controlling substance. He sounds as bad as Villiers. Why is someone as bright and talented as you are wasting your time with these characters? You must have had other options."

Caffrey studied Peter briefly before answering. "There weren't many options, at least not that I could see. I'm good at what I do, and the longer I follow the path I'm on, the fewer chances I have of doing anything else."

"But there's still a chance you could leave that path."

"For some reason, I've arranged to be roommates with an FBI agent who's frustrated with my recent life choices. If you think there's another option for me, this is your chance to share it."

It was the perfect opening for the Caffrey Conversation, but Peter had to say, "It'll have to wait until you're not impaired and I'm done with Villiers. I need to leave in the next few minutes."

"Take me with you. Let me show you what I can do."

"Oh, I got a really good idea of what you can do back at the bar. Bringing you along tonight would be a disaster, now that Villiers thinks you're a Fed and his friend Red thinks you work for the competition."

"They'd never know I was there. I'd stay in the background and help out when you need it."

"I'm not going to need help. This isn't my first undercover op. I know what I'm doing, and I already have backup."

"But--"

"I'm going to mention the rumors of Townsend's arrest first thing, telling them it was my idea, to give me an alibi for tonight."

"That's not a good alibi."

"Yeah, well Townsend is very good at accounting, but not an expert at crime. They'll expect him to make mistakes."

"That's really good, Peter." Caffrey smiled widely. "I could learn a lot from you."

"I'm sure you could learn a lot about FBI tactics and procedures, but not until we have an official working arrangement. Tonight, you stay here, and stay out of trouble. You will have no contact with Villiers, or with that friend who called you, or with anyone else even remotely connected to this job. Is that understood?"

"Peter, I could--"

"No, Caffrey. You will stay here. On the remote chance that I decide I need your help I will call you at the number for this room. If you show me you can follow the orders of an FBI agent, then we'll talk about your options. That's the deal. Take it or leave it. It's your choice."

Silence.

"We can talk about it when I get back. Whatever you decide, I'm grateful for what you did back at the bar to protect my cover. Let's give you some of that medicine and I'll get out of here."

"I can't be waiting by the phone for your distress call if I'm drugged. I'll take it when you get back."

"Then we have a deal?"

Caffrey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll stay out of trouble if you will." Before Peter could protest, Caffrey continued, "You know what they say about the fight or flight response. You've figured out my instinct is to escape, and I'm very good at it. Roland will fight, and his go-to weapon is his gun. He's going to start shooting as soon as he realizes he's in a trap. He won't care if he gets shot or killed in the process, because he'll be determined to take down as many of his enemies as he can. You won't be able to reason with him, so you and your backup need to be ready to take cover."

"You already sound like a senior agent giving instructions to his team before a take-down. This could definitely be interesting." Peter grabbed his coat and was halfway to the door when a thought stopped him. He turned back toward Caffrey. "You know this isn't a trap, right? Don't take it into your head that you need to escape tonight. After we have a chance to talk, you're free to go whether or not you're interested in what the FBI can offer you. I can give you time to think it over, if that's what you need. But I can't make you an offer unless you're here to discuss it."

"I won't run, Peter."