Neal Caffrey slung the bulking pack over his shoulder and felt the wind on his face. It might be the last time he'd feel it. He stared seriously at the empty warehouse in front him. Alarm bells were ringing. Never, never go into an empty warehouse. Duh. The FBI wouldn't suspect a thing. He was under house arrest since Peter's disappearance 3 days ago. And according to his tracker anklet, that was in fact where ex-on man, Neal Caffrey was located.
The deal was: No tracker. No feds and no weapons. Just the money. Of course there were other lesser conditions. One in particular- the last, gave Neal chills, but to save Peter they were only minor details. Neal hadn't broken any rules. The tracker-he'd had the key to that since a week ago when he'd jacked it off that dirty Marshall. Where he was going he wouldn't need it anyway. He did bring someone. Alex had come, but only to get Peter and Neal out of the building and to safety. She was beyond reluctant to help a fed, but Neal had asked her as a personal favor. He didn't like using her like this, but that was another road block he needed to kick over for his FBI friend. She was hesitant to leave Neal in the building if the situation came to it. Little did she know that Neal had no intention of escaping with Peter.
And Neal hated guns with a passion. Any type of violence lacked skill, artfull intent or imagination. He detested weapons of any sort, but was actually debating whether to bring Peter his gun.
As he strode toward the building, breeze blowing in the sunset, Alex was sitting in her car somewhere with binoculars. Watching. Waiting.
The last condition was him.