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sheenianniTitle: Conspiracies: Revelations (Part I)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sheenianni
Artist:aragarna
Fandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
PART I
“Hello again, Neal. You’re under arrest.”
Shock – that was the first thing that hit Neal as he stared at Peter on the other side of the door. Peter found them.
Then the full weight of reality crashed into him, and the shock was replaced by horror and fear.
Peter found them. Which meant that the FBI knew about him. Which meant that the CIA would most likely know within minutes, if they weren’t here already.
They were screwed.
Oblivious to Neal’s internal turmoil, Peter smiled at him. “You know, I’d ask if I may come in, but I don’t think that would be appropriate in our situation.”
Dropping the spoon to his side, Neal slowly shook his head and almost involuntarily took two steps back. “Peter—”
“Uh-uh. You’re not escaping this time.”
Disregarding the warning, Neal took another step back. “Peter, you have no idea what’s going on here.”
Stepping inside, Peter closed the door behind himself. The agent turned on his transmitter and brought it to his mouth. “Subject identified. All clear. We’ll be out in a moment.” He turned the transmitter off and put it back on his belt.
The brief conversation had been all that Neal needed to recollect himself. “On what charge are you arresting me?”
Peter chuckled. “Don’t act as if you don’t know.”
“Peter. On what charge are you arresting me?”
“Well, for starters, there’s the Mondrian that you stole from the San Francisco MoMA–”
“I didn’t do it,” interrupted Neal.
Peter tilted his head in amusement. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’d say that?”
“No, I didn’t do it. I know you won’t believe me, but …” Neal helplessly tried to formulate his next words in the right way, knowing that there really wasn’t one. “… I was framed.”
“The same as the last time, eh? You know, given how smart you are, I would have expected you to come up with something more original.” Peter’s smile faded. He sighed. “Well, fun time’s over. Let’s go.”
Neal shook his head. “I’m not coming with you.”
“You really think you have a choice here?”
“Peter, I need you to listen to me.”
“Neal. It’s over. You’re surrounded. Before you get any ideas, my team is in position–”
“Peter, this isn’t what you think it is.” Neal took a deep breath. “Look, I know that I might not be the most trustworthy person in your eyes–”
“Can’t imagine why,” Peter snorted.
“– but you have to believe me now. I need you to listen to me.”
Peter sighed. “Believe me, you can’t talk your way out of this one.”
“I’m not trying to–” Neal paused in frustration. “Two minutes, okay? Give me two minutes and then I’ll come with you.”
There was a pause.
“Very well. I’m listening.”
Neal gave him a tense nod. “Thank you.”
He had gotten Peter’s attention. That was something, but it would be useless unless he could figure out a way to make Peter believe his story. And what were the chances of that? Telling Peter that the CIA had framed him – it sounded ludicrous, even to himself who knew it to be true.
“Well? Time’s running,” said Peter a moment later with a glance at his watch.
“Okay. Right.”
Once again, Neal considered his options. He could make up a story, but Peter would probably realize it to be a lie – he knew him too well. He could tell him the whole truth and hope that Peter would believe him. Or he could try for something in between and let Peter fill in the blanks.
Neal took a deep breath and began. “About four weeks ago, I was contacted by an old friend – and before you ask, he’s not a former accomplice. He’s an honest man who worked at the Q— Institute of Science and Medicine.”
“Your friend is a university teacher?” interrupted Peter curiously.
“More like a researcher. A biologist, a physicist, mathematician, chemist and analyst – name a science and he’s likely an expert. M– Paul is quite the renaissance man,” explained Neal in response to Peter’s raised eyebrows. He paused. “We’ve known each other for a long time, but we hadn’t been truly close lately. That’s why I was surprised when Paul suddenly called me in the middle of the night. He told me that he discovered that his research was being abused, that he feared for his safety and that he needed my help.”
“What kind of help?”
Suddenly, Neal’s phone buzzed. Distracted, he didn’t pay it any attention. “That’s not important.”
“Really,” said Peter skeptically. “If your friend believed that the institute was participating in something illegal, why didn’t he report it to the authorities?”
“Not everything immoral is necessarily illegal. Besides, who said he didn’t try?” challenged Neal. “And what use would it be if the authorities themselves were involved?”
“Of course you’d say that,” murmured Peter under his breath. “What does this has to do with the Mondrian that you stole from MoMA?”
“I told you, I didn’t steal it,” repeated Neal impatiently.
“Neal, your DNA was at the crime scene, we have a footage of you–”
“Which could have been planted and faked,” interrupted Neal. His phone buzzed again.
“That might sound more believable if it wasn’t coming from a professional con man,” stated Peter dryly.
“Which is exactly why they framed me like this! They needed me out of the way to get to Moz.”
“Moz as in Mozzie?” Peter’s eyes widened. “The suspect from the Emmerson heist – you were working together!”
“What are you talking about?” asked Neal in dismay.
“Your partner in crime,” replied Peter victoriously.
Neal shook his head. “Peter, you got it all wrong.”
“You were together in San Francisco. How long have you two been partners?” asked Peter now in full interrogation mode. “Was it before I caught you? What was his part in this heist? The Mondrian –”
“Forget about the damn Mondrian!”
Peter stilled.
Neal ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Look, I know that we have a past. But Paul doesn’t deserve this. Could you for just for a moment suspend your disbelief? You promised that you’d listen to me.”
“And you expect me to believe that there’s some sort of secret conspiracy?” replied Peter. “Nice try, Neal, but I don’t buy it.” He paused. “Two minutes are over. Let’s go.”
“Peter….”
“Neal. It’s over. Let’s go.”
Suddenly Peter’s transmitter came to life. “Boss? Some people are here who claim to be from another agency; say they’re here for Caffrey.”
The CIA was here. Time was up.
“What? Diana, don’t let them in.” Peter’s eyes were firmly fixed on Neal, watching his every move. “Is this your plan?”
Neal shook his head. “It’s them. They came for me.”
Peter scoffed. “Cut it out, Neal. The gig is up.”
Neal glanced at his surroundings. “Peter, you don’t understand. You have to let me go.”
“That’s enough! I’m calling my team now–”
Front door was blocked by Peter. Bathroom – too slow. Bedroom – too far. “Then let me call Moz. I have to warn him! Please, Peter –”
“You know I can’t do that,” said Peter with a frown. “You’ll have your call once we get to the Bureau–”
“They’ll never let me make it there.”
“What – don’t be ridiculous. You can’t seriously mean that–”
“Boss, you’re never gonna believe this. Our company’s credentials check out. Guess who they are.”
“Who, Interpol? NYPD?”
“The CIA,” Neal said together with the agent from the transmitter.
Peter’s eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t believe it. Check it again.”
“I checked the database twice. Peter, they’re genuine. We’re coming up now.”
“Wait!” His gaze firmly fixated on Neal, Peter hesitated. “Diana, stall them.”
“Boss?”
But Peter had already dropped the transmitter back to his side and was staring unfocused somewhere behind Neal’s shoulder, obviously lost in thought.
Neal silently observed the exchange, could almost feel Peter’s internal turmoil. While seconds passed, all his cells were screaming at him to run – the CIA was here, every delay was disastrous. However, his instincts, carefully honed by years of being a con man, told him that this was important, that this moment was crucial, that it was time to wait.
Finally, Peter looked straight at him. “What’s going on?”
This was Neal’s one chance. “I’m telling you the truth, Peter.”
Peter opened his mouth to speak–
Too late.
The sound on the stairwell caused Peter to look away. The split-second diversion was all that Neal needed before he sprang to action.
His one hand slipped into his pocket and picked up the latest call while he leapt towards the window–
“What – Neal, no!”
– but it was already too late.
CRASH!
Neal clenched his teeth right before his side hit the solid surface. The glass shattered. He flew through the air–
“NEAL!!!”
* * *
For a second, Peter just stared as Neal made impact with the closed window – as he jumped out, breaking the glass with his body. He stared at the pieces of glass on the floor. Then his senses came back to him.
A few quick steps brought Peter to the broken window. Distantly, he heard footsteps running up the stairs, but he wasn’t paying them any attention. His whole focus was on the space outside – and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Neal’s figure lying on the small rooftop about twenty feet below their level.
“Jesus….”
Peter reached for the window’s handle, only to hiss in pain as he cut his palm on the broken glass. He jerked back, then carefully opened the window and slightly bent out for a better view.
Neal wasn’t moving.
Peter was about to dial the ambulance when the door burst open. Jones, Blake, one other agent of his team – and then three strangers in suits and black glasses that he didn’t recognize.
“Peter–”
“Caffrey jumped through the window,” Peter stated before Jones had time to finish his question. “I’m calling 911–”
“He’s getting away,” interrupted one of the strangers sharply and pulled out his own transmitter. “Flynn – Caffrey’s coming on the west side. He’s on the roof.”
Jones spoke: “Diana, he escaped over the rooftop. There’s a ladder on the corner of the street–”
“Copy that.”
“Got it. Thanks, Jones.”
Peter turned back to the window. “What–”
Apparently while he was faced away, Neal had picked himself up. Peter barely saw him climbing over the edge of the rooftop before he disappeared out of their sight.
Peter released a private breath of relief. He allowed himself a half smile before he returned back to present.
“All right, let’s go!” Then he paused as his gaze stopped at the two unknown men and a woman who had entered the room together with his team. “Wait. Who the hell are you and what are you doing in the middle of my operation?”
“Actually, it’s you who’s interrupting our operation. Agent Greeves, CIA,” spoke the shorter of the men as he handed Peter his ID.
What??
Mistrustful, Peter took the ID and carefully inspected it, trying to spot any of the telltale marks that it was a fake. Finally, Jones’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Peter –”
“Right. We’ll resolve this afterwards. Let’s go.”
Pushing his doubts away, Peter went out to do what he was best at – find Neal before he managed to pull another of his famous escapes.
* * *
After his feet touched the roof, Neal rolled over several times to break his fall. But even as the world was spinning around him, he already knew that something was wrong. Finally his body stilled, spread on the hard concrete of the roof.
Shit.
His head and neck had remained mostly protected. His arms on the other hand were scraped and bleeding – that was what he got for wearing an undershirt for this sort of stunt. Lots of bruises that would heal in time. Despite his initial instinct, everything seemed to be in order…. And then Neal tried to stand up and almost cried out as the world went black in pain.
His ankle was badly sprained.
Hissing and swearing and struggling to get up, Neal finally stumbled to his feet. Disoriented, he half-hopped on one foot when he noticed that his phone has fallen out of his pocket. He picked it up and took a look at his surroundings.
Peter’s voice was coming from a distance.
With his ankle, the opposite rooftop wasn’t an option. A quick glance revealed that there was a ladder at the edge of the roof. Hobbling on, Neal somehow managed to make it to the ladder in record time. His phone clutched tightly in one hand, he started climbing just as he saw a group of agents staring at him from the broken window and talking to their radios.
Climbing was a struggle. His leg was killing him. Trying not to drop the phone, Neal hissed in pain. Almost halfway down.…
His hand slipped and he slid a good two feet before he caught himself again. Pausing for a second he wasn’t sure he had, Neal put the phone on speaker before climbing the final four rungs.
“–Neal?”
Out of breath, Neal almost cried in relief at Mozzie’s voice. “They found me. Peter…. I made a mistake….”
The message for June. Neal had thought that it was perfect, that nobody would be able to figure it out – and nobody would, except for the one man who had already caught him once by knowing his habits and weaknesses. Except for Peter.
And now Mozzie was in danger.
Neal looked over the street before him, only to spot Agent Berrigan and her team walking in his direction. They were looking for him–
And then Berrigan and he made eye contact.
He wouldn’t be able to make it. He was caught. He was.…
Neal leaned away from the wall and ran until he stumbled into the wider street, almost getting hit by a honking car.
“NEAL!!! What’s going on?”
He was finished, but Mozzie might still have a chance. “Don’t go back.”
Neal quickly told Mozzie of his contingency plan. Except.…
“I’m not leaving you. If you get caught, I’ll find you.”
Jumping sideways to avoid another car, Neal chuckled. “Good joke, Moz.”
“It wasn’t a joke, Neal.”
There were houses, but no shops where he could easily hide. His undershirt and the bleeding scrapes made him stand out in the small crowd of people. Then Neal spotted a small stand with cheap goods and clothes. This was his chance.…
Still talking to Mozzie, he wordlessly grabbed a random jacket while pressing two banknotes into the seller’s hand, an exchange that took less than five seconds. Putting on the jacket, Neal continued limping through the crowd, only later allowing himself a small look back.
“I’m not abandoning you!”
Berrigan or the other agents were nowhere to be seen. Was it possible that he had shaken them off…?
“If you don’t tell me how can I help, I’ll turn myself over to the CIA.”
What the hell was wrong with Mozzie?
Neal almost opened his mouth to yell.…
And then he saw Peter, hurrying towards him with two CIA agents and another two men from his own team. At the same time, he spotted Berrigan moving through the street from the other side. It was over.
He had maybe thirty seconds before he was caught. He had to decide fast. Knowing they might be overheard, Neal tried to think of a message for Mozzie.…
“Trust the Suit then.”
Almost immediately, Neal was hit by doubt. He thought about taking the statement back and ordering Moz to forget about him.…
But there was no time.
“Goodbye, Moz.”
“What? Neal. NEAL!!!”
He hung up.
Peter and his companions were getting closer. Turning around, Neal started walking in the opposite direction … towards Agent Berrigan. Keeping his hands low, he took his phone apart, dumping the battery into a trash can and the phone into an unsuspecting passer-by’s pocket.
He made one last attempt at bolting. Minding the cars, he made it across the street.…
Berrigan was yelling at him.…
With the cars between them, Neal pushed himself to keep moving forward–
A taxi. If he made it that far and could just get away a street or two–
And then his body was slammed into a wall.
“Neal Caffrey, you’re under arrest on suspicion of art theft and fraud.”
Neal turned his head around. “Agent Berrigan.”
She barely finished locking the cuffs around his hands before the rest of the cavalry arrived.
“You have the right to remain silent.…”
“Peter.…”
“Neal Caffrey,” stated one of the CIA agents. “We need to talk.”
“You.” Neal tried to pull away as the man reached for his arm–
– and then he almost fell as his abused ankle finally gave in under him.
Peter caught him just in time. “Hey! Easy.” He pulled him back to his feet until Neal could stand again.
The CIA agent frowned. “All right, that’s enough. Let’s go.”
“Wait! Why–”
“You’ll have enough time to ask questions once we reach our headquarters,” interrupted the CIA agent.
Berrigan frowned. “Peter…?”
Burke shook his head. “Do as he says, Diana. It’s their operation now.”
“What–”
But Neal’s questions were cut short as he was pushed into the back seat of a car, an agent sitting at each of his sides. He tried to reach Peter’s eyes in a silent way of communication; however, Peter’s face remained closed off, unreadable and blank.
And right then, Neal realized he had made a horrible mistake when he had put his hopes into one Peter Burke.
* * *
“I’m not letting him out of my sight.”
“Listen, Burke–”
“No, you listen. We had an agreement. And I stand by what I said; I’m not letting Caffrey out of my sight. If you have a problem with that, I’ll just take him to the Bureau with me and you can try to sort it out there.”
The leader of the CIA team gave him a cold glare. Unmoved, Peter glared back just as effectively.
‘The FBI can have Caffrey after we’re done with him,’ Greeves had stated while they had been hurrying out to find Neal on the street. ‘We believe that Caffrey had been smuggling dangerous goods over the borders. We’re not sure if he even knew what he was moving,’ he had said before Peter could voice his objections. ‘But for the safety of our nation, we need to talk to him immediately.’
‘What goods?’ Peter had asked. ‘What dangers?’ But he had received no answer.
Greeves had given him more important reasons and some vague statements about security clearance that left Peter unimpressed and vaguely disturbed. Neal’s accusations, however bizarre, were nagging at his mind. In the end though, Peter had no reason to believe that the CIA agent wasn’t telling the truth, and he wasn’t willing to risk being wrong and endangering his country based on a mere feeling.
On the other hand, he wasn’t about to just surrender his suspect to people he didn’t trust – not without keeping an eye on him himself.
“Agent Burke.…”
“It was my team that arrested Caffrey. Like I said, we had an agreement,” repeated Peter resolutely. “Look, I’m trying to be reasonable here. If we make an effort, we can work this out. But I am not surrendering Caffrey to you without one of my people present. No offense.”
“You don’t have the security clearance,” opposed Greeves.
“I’ve been an FBI agent for fifteen years; you’ve probably already confirmed that. I’m sure you can find a way to allow me to accompany you.”
Greeves looked like he had swallowed a lemon before he finally nodded. “Very well. Brett, you can take a ride with Flynn. Agent Burke is coming with us.”
“Boss.…”
“It’s okay, Diana. I’ll meet you later at the office. In the meantime, I want you to do the whole routine – secure Caffrey’s apartment, search it, take care of the evidence.”
“Actually, my team is already working on that,” interjected Greeves.
“Then we can cooperate. Diana, Jones, I have full faith that you can handle it here.”
Jones and Diana looked at each other uncertainly before they nodded. “Right. Take care, Peter.”
Peter smiled. “I will.” Casting a quick glance at Neal in the back of the car, he took the last empty seat next to the driver’s.
One last look at his team, and then they took off to the unknown location of a CIA facility.
* * *
His hands cuffed, squeezed between the two agents and with his ankle sprained, Neal tried to fight down the rising wave of fear and panic.
He needed a plan. He needed it fast. But his head was empty and he desperately felt that he had run out of options.
The CIA agents had left him with no illusions about the direness of his situation. ‘We don’t need Burke, and we only need you fit enough to talk. Try to think of that before you do anything stupid.”
He had to get Peter out of the car before things went to hell.
As much as he usually abhorred the New York traffic, right now Neal wished it was thicker to slow them down. As it was, their black sedan was moving way too fast, heading for the less inhabited parts unknown and smaller, lesser known roads.
He hoped Mozzie had listened to his warnings. He hoped he would be smart enough to take his new identity and get out. Maybe Sally would talk some sense into him.…
He was pulled out of his thoughts when Peter cleared his throat. “So where exactly are we going?”
Greeves shot him a brief glance. “Our station in New York is–”
“WATCH OUT!”
As in slow motion, Neal saw a blue van appear unexpectedly from a side alley, coming at them from the right side. In last second, the agent driving tried to steer the wheel.…
CRASH!!!
Too late.
The force of the impact threw them all to the left, only their seatbelts keeping them seated. As the car continued moving, they narrowly missed crashing into another vehicle going the opposite direction. Honking, screeching of the breaks… Finally everything stilled.
The car had stopped moving. They were alive.
For a few seconds, there was just a tense silence. Finally, Neal allowed himself a shaky breath of relief. Then he looked around properly and all the relieved feelings died right there and then.
“Peter–”
“Quiet.”
The words froze in Neal’s throat as he felt the cold steel of a gun firmly pressed to his side. But he couldn’t keep his eyes off Peter in the front seat.
The right front side of the car had taken most of the hit. Barely conscious, Peter was quietly moaning. The side of his head was marked by an ugly gash that was bleeding rather heavily.
“Agent Burke?” called the CIA agent on the left of Neal before he stood up and climbed out of the car, seemingly to check on Peter.
‘Pick the cuffs,’ motioned the other agent next to Neal silently.
Neal shook his head.
‘Do it.’
“No.”
A brutal jab of the gun into his ribs had him gasping in pain. “What will they think if they find him dead and you missing?” murmured the agent into his ear. “Pick. The. Cuffs.”
Swallowing, Neal obeyed the order and then remained very still in his seat. Suddenly, another car arrived and a group of people came out. Neal’s eyes widened when he recognized their leader – the blond man who had almost caught them that time when Mozzie had called his dad.
“You….”
“Come, Mr. Caffrey,” stated the man and opened the door of his car.
With the gun in his back and Peter sitting there helpless, Neal saw no other option but to climb into the car.
“Where are you taking me?”
The leader of his captors smiled at him. “Won’t spoil the surprise.”
When Neal spotted the syringe, it was already too late.
He barely had the time to hiss in surprise before being injected with the unknown drug. And then his world went black and he knew no more.
* * *
“Agent Burke! Can you hear me?”
“… what…?”
“Burke, do you understand me?”
Peter blinked.
Where was he? What was going on?
Opening his eyes, Peter’s whole world was unfocused, muffled – like he was seeing his surroundings through a thick fog. Blinking again, his brain began to recognize the shapes around him. Someone was standing over him, waving their hand over his face. He glanced around – a seat with polyethylene padding, pieces of glass, dented door.… He was sitting in a car that wasn’t his. There had been a crash. Peter tried to remember.…
Then it finally clicked.
The man above him was Agent Greeves from the CIA. He had been with his team, had tracked down Neal to his apartment and then arrested him. Then the CIA had shown up and then–
“Neal!”
“Burke!” exclaimed Greeves in relief. “Thank God – we were worried about you there. I’ve already called the ambulance. Don’t worry, you’re gonna be all right– ”
“Neal,” interrupted Peter. “Is he okay?” He tried to turn around–
The sudden wave of nausea hit him so hard that Peter almost threw up.
“Burke? Jesus, you’re all green. The ambulance will be here in a minute–”
“I think it’s just a concussion,” murmured Peter, leaning back against his seat and closing his eyes.
“Hey! Stay with me. Don’t fall asleep.”
Peter looked back at Greeves. “I was just … never mind.” Carefully trying to lift himself up, he suddenly became aware of the throbbing pain in his head. He touched it lightly and then quickly pulled his hand away, hissing in pain. Looking down at his fingers, Peter felt slightly sick when he realized they were covered in blood.
“Here.” Greeves handed him a piece of gauze.
Peter took a deep breath before pressing it against his head. “Thanks.… How’s everyone else? Is Neal okay?”
“If he’s not, he certainly looked like he was.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Caffrey is gone,” explained Greeves with a grimace. “He took advantage of the confusion of the crash and disappeared.”
“What? How did that happen?” Peter tried to get up.
Greeves stopped him. “Whoa, don’t move.… I already have someone looking into it. I can assure you that catching Caffrey is one of our priorities.”
“Right.…”
Suddenly they heard the sirens.
“Looks like the ambulance finally arrived,” said Greeves, straightening himself and turning around. Peter waited until they were approached by a pair of paramedics.
“Sir, can you step out of the car?”
“I can try.…” Peter swung his legs to the door, then had to still as his whole world rocked.
“Let me help you,” said one of the paramedics understandingly.
With the woman’s support, Peter managed to stand up on his feet. Somehow, they made it to the ambulance. Before the door closed behind them, Peter stared at the street – two crashed vehicles. Broken glass. Chaos.
And Neal had taken advantage of the situation to escape once again.
Then the ambulance door shut and the view disappeared from Peter’s sight. They were going to the hospital.
* * *
After Neal’s disturbing phone call, they had waited for him the whole night.
At some point, Sally brought Mozzie a cup of tea. Then she sat next to him, gently squeezing his hand. When he noticed that Sally had dozed off as the morning was approaching, Mozzie momentarily broke from his reverie to bring her a blanket and put it over her shoulders. Then he returned to his place, pushing himself to stay awake in case Neal contacted them.
But his cell wasn’t ringing.
He kept his watch through the night up to dawn and then past it, so focused on his phone and the door that he didn’t even realize when Sally woke up.
“Moz. He’s not going to call.”
He knew.
But as long as he kept his watch, as long as he didn’t give up–
“Moz. Paul.”
Sally’s voice finally brought Mozzie back to reality. Neal had been caught.
But he was going to bring him back, and Sally had promised to help him.
Mozzie was determined that he would succeed. But first he needed a plan.
‘Trust the Suit,’ Neal had said. Who the hell was that?
It was clear that their quest required more information.
Fortunately, that was one area where Mozzie felt completely confident. “I’ll have to contact some people.”
Sally had started making toast for breakfast, but paused as she turned to Mozzie. “Who do you have in mind?”
They’d been best friends for almost two decades. They’d been on the run together in their hopeless act of defiance against the CIA. They had talked so much during the last few weeks that Mozzie had thought that he knew enough about Neal’s life. But then who was the Suit?
There were two people at least who could give him some answers.
“The people who are loyal to Neal, June Ellington and Hale.”
“They’ll be watched,” warned Sally.
Mozzie smiled. “Don’t worry. Between the two of us, I’m sure we’ll find a way.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” replied Sally grimly.
‘Yeah, me too.’
Reaching an internal decision, Mozzie nodded. “Okay. First off, I should–”
“You should have breakfast with me and then get some sleep,” interrupted Sally.
Mozzie blinked. “But Neal–”
“You won’t help him if you collapse on your feet.”
“Don’t you know what they say? The first forty-eight hours are crucial–”
“To find a missing person, I know.” Sally paused. “But this isn’t a case for the Missing Persons Unit. We’re not cops; we already know who has Neal – and don’t forget that the real target of the CIA is still you.”
Mozzie frowned. “So what do you suggest?”
“Get the IDs that Neal had made for you,” advised Sally.
Mozzie shook his head. “No, that – we have to assume that sooner or later, the CIA will get Neal to talk.”
“He won’t give you up.”
“Unless he has no choice. Anything that he knows, the CIA might know too.” Suddenly his eyes stilled at Sally’s face. “Which means … oh no.”
“What?”
“Neal knows about you. Sooner or later, the CIA will too.”
“He doesn’t know my real name or where this place is,” stated Sally firmly.
“He knows about the club. He knows some of your friends. From that point.…” Mozzie hesitated. “Now that they have Neal, your face is out there too.… I have to go.”
“What?” The hurt and shock in Sally’s voice was almost palpable. “Look, this place is safe. Not even my friends know–”
“Doesn’t matter. The CIA will find it.” Recalling the afternoon before, Mozzie went to the couch to pick up his jacket and then started collecting the rest of his things. “Besides, that’s not what this is about.”
“So after everything, after we – after you dragged me into this, you’re just going to leave?”
“I’m not leaving you, I– “Mozzie sighed. “Look. I’ve already ruined Neal’s life. I can’t do the same to you.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” said Sally sharply. “Neal knew the risks but chose to help you, and I’m doing the same. You can’t stop me.”
“Sally – please. You should walk away. If Neal–”
“Just because they caught him, doesn’t mean that Neal will drop my name,” interrupted Sally.
Mozzie raised his eyebrows. “Now you trust him?”
“I know he won’t betray you,” answered Sally. “He knows that if he tells them my name, it will lead them to you. So he won’t.”
“I know that Neal will do his best to buy us some time,” said Mozzie. “But eventually–”
“Neal doesn’t know about Project Lethe,” said Sally. “He doesn’t know that we’ve cracked the CIA financial records, and if we’re lucky, neither does the CIA. That works in our favor.”
Mozzie didn’t reply.
He thought about how Neal had been framed because he stood in the CIA’s way. As the Vulture, Sally was just as vulnerable to their machinations if her identity was exposed.
Staring at Sally, Mozzie couldn’t squash his feeling of unease.
He shouldn’t have let her in. He didn’t know why he had let Neal involve her in this. They would have found another way.
“Talk to your friends,” he said at last. “Make sure that they won’t reveal your name, then burn the contacts and break all ties. That should slow them down a bit and buy you some time while I’m tracking down the Suit and Neal.… Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me.”
Silence.
“You’re breaking up with me.” stated Sally incredulously.
“I don’t want you involved.”
“Is this some sort of misplaced chivalry or have you simply decided that you don’t need me anymore? And I don’t know which of these options is more stupid.”
“Sally– this was a mistake.”
She glowered at him. “I want to help Neal and to stop those egomaniacs from poking around people’s heads. You can’t stop me. Even if you wanted to, you need my skills. ”
The worst thing was that she was right.
Wordlessly, Mozzie put his bag down and tossed the jacket at the rack in the foyer before returning to the kitchen. He accepted the plate with toast and a glass of juice from Sally. They ate the breakfast in an unpleasant silence that carried on even as they returned to the computer and continued searching through the CIA database.
But that day, the financial records seemed to be hiding their secrets. As their frustration and tiredness built up, the tension between Mozzie and Sally just grew worse. Despite a long and tenuous search that was interrupted only by the takeaway lunch from a nearby restaurant and the occasional break, their efforts turned out to be in vain.
It was almost midnight when they finally admitted defeat.
“I have to go to work tomorrow,” said Sally as she turned off the secondary computer systems. “I already took an unexpected vacation for one week and an unpaid leave for another. If I don’t show up tomorrow, I’ll get fired.”
With his apartment swarming with CIA and FBI, Mozzie spent the night on Sally’s couch. Despite his exhaustion, his eyes wouldn’t close as he kept staring at the ceiling, trying to make plans for the future.
* * *
The next morning, their argument seemed forgotten. They smiled at each other in unspoken apology as they ate Sally’s gluten-free pancakes; they chuckled when they ran into each other in the bathroom and Sally gave Mozzie a quick peck on his cheek before she rushed off to work. With the whole day ahead, Mozzie then went to pick up the IDs that Neal had made for them and ran a couple of other errands. After returning home, he started going over the CIA records again, but he didn’t dare to explore on his own too much without Sally’s skills. The rest of the time, he was considering ways to contact June and Hale.
Mozzie was a bit surprised when he found out about Sally’s official profession. Nevertheless, her job as a bicycle courier meant that she often came home late, rewarding him with a tired but thankful smile for making dinner and a cup of her favorite black tea. She would take a shower, sometimes allowing Mozzie to join her and help her if her muscles were particularly sore. Then, when they were both fed and refreshed, Sally would turn on her whole monstrous system of computers and the two of them continued the task of trying to track Neal and find a hole in the CIA security.
That went on for five days.
On the morning of the sixth day, they had breakfast and then Sally left as usual, giving Mozzie a quick goodbye kiss. Mozzie kept on his smile until the door closed behind her. Then he went to the box with Sally’s summer clothes and pulled out the stack of newly forged passports and other IDs. Opening one of the passports, Mozzie stared at the ID that he would swear to be completely legitimate, had he not known that he had forged it himself only yesterday afternoon.
Neal had taught him well.
Putting the passports at the bottom of his bag, Mozzie added his clothes, his toiletries, his flash drive and a stack of notes from his and Sally’s research. He almost made it to the door when he hesitated.
Then he swiftly turned around and left without looking back.
* * *
Part II - On LJ | On DW
Author:
sheenianniArtist:
aragarnaFandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
___________________________________
PART I
“Hello again, Neal. You’re under arrest.”
Shock – that was the first thing that hit Neal as he stared at Peter on the other side of the door. Peter found them.
Then the full weight of reality crashed into him, and the shock was replaced by horror and fear.
Peter found them. Which meant that the FBI knew about him. Which meant that the CIA would most likely know within minutes, if they weren’t here already.
They were screwed.
Oblivious to Neal’s internal turmoil, Peter smiled at him. “You know, I’d ask if I may come in, but I don’t think that would be appropriate in our situation.”
Dropping the spoon to his side, Neal slowly shook his head and almost involuntarily took two steps back. “Peter—”
“Uh-uh. You’re not escaping this time.”
Disregarding the warning, Neal took another step back. “Peter, you have no idea what’s going on here.”
Stepping inside, Peter closed the door behind himself. The agent turned on his transmitter and brought it to his mouth. “Subject identified. All clear. We’ll be out in a moment.” He turned the transmitter off and put it back on his belt.
The brief conversation had been all that Neal needed to recollect himself. “On what charge are you arresting me?”
Peter chuckled. “Don’t act as if you don’t know.”
“Peter. On what charge are you arresting me?”
“Well, for starters, there’s the Mondrian that you stole from the San Francisco MoMA–”
“I didn’t do it,” interrupted Neal.
Peter tilted his head in amusement. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’d say that?”
“No, I didn’t do it. I know you won’t believe me, but …” Neal helplessly tried to formulate his next words in the right way, knowing that there really wasn’t one. “… I was framed.”
“The same as the last time, eh? You know, given how smart you are, I would have expected you to come up with something more original.” Peter’s smile faded. He sighed. “Well, fun time’s over. Let’s go.”
Neal shook his head. “I’m not coming with you.”
“You really think you have a choice here?”
“Peter, I need you to listen to me.”
“Neal. It’s over. You’re surrounded. Before you get any ideas, my team is in position–”
“Peter, this isn’t what you think it is.” Neal took a deep breath. “Look, I know that I might not be the most trustworthy person in your eyes–”
“Can’t imagine why,” Peter snorted.
“– but you have to believe me now. I need you to listen to me.”
Peter sighed. “Believe me, you can’t talk your way out of this one.”
“I’m not trying to–” Neal paused in frustration. “Two minutes, okay? Give me two minutes and then I’ll come with you.”
There was a pause.
“Very well. I’m listening.”
Neal gave him a tense nod. “Thank you.”
He had gotten Peter’s attention. That was something, but it would be useless unless he could figure out a way to make Peter believe his story. And what were the chances of that? Telling Peter that the CIA had framed him – it sounded ludicrous, even to himself who knew it to be true.
“Well? Time’s running,” said Peter a moment later with a glance at his watch.
“Okay. Right.”
Once again, Neal considered his options. He could make up a story, but Peter would probably realize it to be a lie – he knew him too well. He could tell him the whole truth and hope that Peter would believe him. Or he could try for something in between and let Peter fill in the blanks.
Neal took a deep breath and began. “About four weeks ago, I was contacted by an old friend – and before you ask, he’s not a former accomplice. He’s an honest man who worked at the Q— Institute of Science and Medicine.”
“Your friend is a university teacher?” interrupted Peter curiously.
“More like a researcher. A biologist, a physicist, mathematician, chemist and analyst – name a science and he’s likely an expert. M– Paul is quite the renaissance man,” explained Neal in response to Peter’s raised eyebrows. He paused. “We’ve known each other for a long time, but we hadn’t been truly close lately. That’s why I was surprised when Paul suddenly called me in the middle of the night. He told me that he discovered that his research was being abused, that he feared for his safety and that he needed my help.”
“What kind of help?”
Suddenly, Neal’s phone buzzed. Distracted, he didn’t pay it any attention. “That’s not important.”
“Really,” said Peter skeptically. “If your friend believed that the institute was participating in something illegal, why didn’t he report it to the authorities?”
“Not everything immoral is necessarily illegal. Besides, who said he didn’t try?” challenged Neal. “And what use would it be if the authorities themselves were involved?”
“Of course you’d say that,” murmured Peter under his breath. “What does this has to do with the Mondrian that you stole from MoMA?”
“I told you, I didn’t steal it,” repeated Neal impatiently.
“Neal, your DNA was at the crime scene, we have a footage of you–”
“Which could have been planted and faked,” interrupted Neal. His phone buzzed again.
“That might sound more believable if it wasn’t coming from a professional con man,” stated Peter dryly.
“Which is exactly why they framed me like this! They needed me out of the way to get to Moz.”
“Moz as in Mozzie?” Peter’s eyes widened. “The suspect from the Emmerson heist – you were working together!”
“What are you talking about?” asked Neal in dismay.
“Your partner in crime,” replied Peter victoriously.
Neal shook his head. “Peter, you got it all wrong.”
“You were together in San Francisco. How long have you two been partners?” asked Peter now in full interrogation mode. “Was it before I caught you? What was his part in this heist? The Mondrian –”
“Forget about the damn Mondrian!”
Peter stilled.
Neal ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Look, I know that we have a past. But Paul doesn’t deserve this. Could you for just for a moment suspend your disbelief? You promised that you’d listen to me.”
“And you expect me to believe that there’s some sort of secret conspiracy?” replied Peter. “Nice try, Neal, but I don’t buy it.” He paused. “Two minutes are over. Let’s go.”
“Peter….”
“Neal. It’s over. Let’s go.”
Suddenly Peter’s transmitter came to life. “Boss? Some people are here who claim to be from another agency; say they’re here for Caffrey.”
The CIA was here. Time was up.
“What? Diana, don’t let them in.” Peter’s eyes were firmly fixed on Neal, watching his every move. “Is this your plan?”
Neal shook his head. “It’s them. They came for me.”
Peter scoffed. “Cut it out, Neal. The gig is up.”
Neal glanced at his surroundings. “Peter, you don’t understand. You have to let me go.”
“That’s enough! I’m calling my team now–”
Front door was blocked by Peter. Bathroom – too slow. Bedroom – too far. “Then let me call Moz. I have to warn him! Please, Peter –”
“You know I can’t do that,” said Peter with a frown. “You’ll have your call once we get to the Bureau–”
“They’ll never let me make it there.”
“What – don’t be ridiculous. You can’t seriously mean that–”
“Boss, you’re never gonna believe this. Our company’s credentials check out. Guess who they are.”
“Who, Interpol? NYPD?”
“The CIA,” Neal said together with the agent from the transmitter.
Peter’s eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t believe it. Check it again.”
“I checked the database twice. Peter, they’re genuine. We’re coming up now.”
“Wait!” His gaze firmly fixated on Neal, Peter hesitated. “Diana, stall them.”
“Boss?”
But Peter had already dropped the transmitter back to his side and was staring unfocused somewhere behind Neal’s shoulder, obviously lost in thought.
Neal silently observed the exchange, could almost feel Peter’s internal turmoil. While seconds passed, all his cells were screaming at him to run – the CIA was here, every delay was disastrous. However, his instincts, carefully honed by years of being a con man, told him that this was important, that this moment was crucial, that it was time to wait.
Finally, Peter looked straight at him. “What’s going on?”
This was Neal’s one chance. “I’m telling you the truth, Peter.”
Peter opened his mouth to speak–
Too late.
The sound on the stairwell caused Peter to look away. The split-second diversion was all that Neal needed before he sprang to action.
His one hand slipped into his pocket and picked up the latest call while he leapt towards the window–
“What – Neal, no!”
– but it was already too late.
CRASH!
Neal clenched his teeth right before his side hit the solid surface. The glass shattered. He flew through the air–
“NEAL!!!”
For a second, Peter just stared as Neal made impact with the closed window – as he jumped out, breaking the glass with his body. He stared at the pieces of glass on the floor. Then his senses came back to him.
A few quick steps brought Peter to the broken window. Distantly, he heard footsteps running up the stairs, but he wasn’t paying them any attention. His whole focus was on the space outside – and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Neal’s figure lying on the small rooftop about twenty feet below their level.
“Jesus….”
Peter reached for the window’s handle, only to hiss in pain as he cut his palm on the broken glass. He jerked back, then carefully opened the window and slightly bent out for a better view.
Neal wasn’t moving.
Peter was about to dial the ambulance when the door burst open. Jones, Blake, one other agent of his team – and then three strangers in suits and black glasses that he didn’t recognize.
“Peter–”
“Caffrey jumped through the window,” Peter stated before Jones had time to finish his question. “I’m calling 911–”
“He’s getting away,” interrupted one of the strangers sharply and pulled out his own transmitter. “Flynn – Caffrey’s coming on the west side. He’s on the roof.”
Jones spoke: “Diana, he escaped over the rooftop. There’s a ladder on the corner of the street–”
“Copy that.”
“Got it. Thanks, Jones.”
Peter turned back to the window. “What–”
Apparently while he was faced away, Neal had picked himself up. Peter barely saw him climbing over the edge of the rooftop before he disappeared out of their sight.
Peter released a private breath of relief. He allowed himself a half smile before he returned back to present.
“All right, let’s go!” Then he paused as his gaze stopped at the two unknown men and a woman who had entered the room together with his team. “Wait. Who the hell are you and what are you doing in the middle of my operation?”
“Actually, it’s you who’s interrupting our operation. Agent Greeves, CIA,” spoke the shorter of the men as he handed Peter his ID.
What??
Mistrustful, Peter took the ID and carefully inspected it, trying to spot any of the telltale marks that it was a fake. Finally, Jones’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Peter –”
“Right. We’ll resolve this afterwards. Let’s go.”
Pushing his doubts away, Peter went out to do what he was best at – find Neal before he managed to pull another of his famous escapes.
After his feet touched the roof, Neal rolled over several times to break his fall. But even as the world was spinning around him, he already knew that something was wrong. Finally his body stilled, spread on the hard concrete of the roof.
Shit.
His head and neck had remained mostly protected. His arms on the other hand were scraped and bleeding – that was what he got for wearing an undershirt for this sort of stunt. Lots of bruises that would heal in time. Despite his initial instinct, everything seemed to be in order…. And then Neal tried to stand up and almost cried out as the world went black in pain.
His ankle was badly sprained.
Hissing and swearing and struggling to get up, Neal finally stumbled to his feet. Disoriented, he half-hopped on one foot when he noticed that his phone has fallen out of his pocket. He picked it up and took a look at his surroundings.
Peter’s voice was coming from a distance.
With his ankle, the opposite rooftop wasn’t an option. A quick glance revealed that there was a ladder at the edge of the roof. Hobbling on, Neal somehow managed to make it to the ladder in record time. His phone clutched tightly in one hand, he started climbing just as he saw a group of agents staring at him from the broken window and talking to their radios.
Climbing was a struggle. His leg was killing him. Trying not to drop the phone, Neal hissed in pain. Almost halfway down.…
His hand slipped and he slid a good two feet before he caught himself again. Pausing for a second he wasn’t sure he had, Neal put the phone on speaker before climbing the final four rungs.
“–Neal?”
Out of breath, Neal almost cried in relief at Mozzie’s voice. “They found me. Peter…. I made a mistake….”
The message for June. Neal had thought that it was perfect, that nobody would be able to figure it out – and nobody would, except for the one man who had already caught him once by knowing his habits and weaknesses. Except for Peter.
And now Mozzie was in danger.
Neal looked over the street before him, only to spot Agent Berrigan and her team walking in his direction. They were looking for him–
And then Berrigan and he made eye contact.
He wouldn’t be able to make it. He was caught. He was.…
Neal leaned away from the wall and ran until he stumbled into the wider street, almost getting hit by a honking car.
“NEAL!!! What’s going on?”
He was finished, but Mozzie might still have a chance. “Don’t go back.”
Neal quickly told Mozzie of his contingency plan. Except.…
“I’m not leaving you. If you get caught, I’ll find you.”
Jumping sideways to avoid another car, Neal chuckled. “Good joke, Moz.”
“It wasn’t a joke, Neal.”
There were houses, but no shops where he could easily hide. His undershirt and the bleeding scrapes made him stand out in the small crowd of people. Then Neal spotted a small stand with cheap goods and clothes. This was his chance.…
Still talking to Mozzie, he wordlessly grabbed a random jacket while pressing two banknotes into the seller’s hand, an exchange that took less than five seconds. Putting on the jacket, Neal continued limping through the crowd, only later allowing himself a small look back.
“I’m not abandoning you!”
Berrigan or the other agents were nowhere to be seen. Was it possible that he had shaken them off…?
“If you don’t tell me how can I help, I’ll turn myself over to the CIA.”
What the hell was wrong with Mozzie?
Neal almost opened his mouth to yell.…
And then he saw Peter, hurrying towards him with two CIA agents and another two men from his own team. At the same time, he spotted Berrigan moving through the street from the other side. It was over.
He had maybe thirty seconds before he was caught. He had to decide fast. Knowing they might be overheard, Neal tried to think of a message for Mozzie.…
“Trust the Suit then.”
Almost immediately, Neal was hit by doubt. He thought about taking the statement back and ordering Moz to forget about him.…
But there was no time.
“Goodbye, Moz.”
“What? Neal. NEAL!!!”
He hung up.
Peter and his companions were getting closer. Turning around, Neal started walking in the opposite direction … towards Agent Berrigan. Keeping his hands low, he took his phone apart, dumping the battery into a trash can and the phone into an unsuspecting passer-by’s pocket.
He made one last attempt at bolting. Minding the cars, he made it across the street.…
Berrigan was yelling at him.…
With the cars between them, Neal pushed himself to keep moving forward–
A taxi. If he made it that far and could just get away a street or two–
And then his body was slammed into a wall.
“Neal Caffrey, you’re under arrest on suspicion of art theft and fraud.”
Neal turned his head around. “Agent Berrigan.”
She barely finished locking the cuffs around his hands before the rest of the cavalry arrived.
“You have the right to remain silent.…”
“Peter.…”
“Neal Caffrey,” stated one of the CIA agents. “We need to talk.”
“You.” Neal tried to pull away as the man reached for his arm–
– and then he almost fell as his abused ankle finally gave in under him.
Peter caught him just in time. “Hey! Easy.” He pulled him back to his feet until Neal could stand again.
The CIA agent frowned. “All right, that’s enough. Let’s go.”
“Wait! Why–”
“You’ll have enough time to ask questions once we reach our headquarters,” interrupted the CIA agent.
Berrigan frowned. “Peter…?”
Burke shook his head. “Do as he says, Diana. It’s their operation now.”
“What–”
But Neal’s questions were cut short as he was pushed into the back seat of a car, an agent sitting at each of his sides. He tried to reach Peter’s eyes in a silent way of communication; however, Peter’s face remained closed off, unreadable and blank.
And right then, Neal realized he had made a horrible mistake when he had put his hopes into one Peter Burke.
“I’m not letting him out of my sight.”
“Listen, Burke–”
“No, you listen. We had an agreement. And I stand by what I said; I’m not letting Caffrey out of my sight. If you have a problem with that, I’ll just take him to the Bureau with me and you can try to sort it out there.”
The leader of the CIA team gave him a cold glare. Unmoved, Peter glared back just as effectively.
‘The FBI can have Caffrey after we’re done with him,’ Greeves had stated while they had been hurrying out to find Neal on the street. ‘We believe that Caffrey had been smuggling dangerous goods over the borders. We’re not sure if he even knew what he was moving,’ he had said before Peter could voice his objections. ‘But for the safety of our nation, we need to talk to him immediately.’
‘What goods?’ Peter had asked. ‘What dangers?’ But he had received no answer.
Greeves had given him more important reasons and some vague statements about security clearance that left Peter unimpressed and vaguely disturbed. Neal’s accusations, however bizarre, were nagging at his mind. In the end though, Peter had no reason to believe that the CIA agent wasn’t telling the truth, and he wasn’t willing to risk being wrong and endangering his country based on a mere feeling.
On the other hand, he wasn’t about to just surrender his suspect to people he didn’t trust – not without keeping an eye on him himself.
“Agent Burke.…”
“It was my team that arrested Caffrey. Like I said, we had an agreement,” repeated Peter resolutely. “Look, I’m trying to be reasonable here. If we make an effort, we can work this out. But I am not surrendering Caffrey to you without one of my people present. No offense.”
“You don’t have the security clearance,” opposed Greeves.
“I’ve been an FBI agent for fifteen years; you’ve probably already confirmed that. I’m sure you can find a way to allow me to accompany you.”
Greeves looked like he had swallowed a lemon before he finally nodded. “Very well. Brett, you can take a ride with Flynn. Agent Burke is coming with us.”
“Boss.…”
“It’s okay, Diana. I’ll meet you later at the office. In the meantime, I want you to do the whole routine – secure Caffrey’s apartment, search it, take care of the evidence.”
“Actually, my team is already working on that,” interjected Greeves.
“Then we can cooperate. Diana, Jones, I have full faith that you can handle it here.”
Jones and Diana looked at each other uncertainly before they nodded. “Right. Take care, Peter.”
Peter smiled. “I will.” Casting a quick glance at Neal in the back of the car, he took the last empty seat next to the driver’s.
One last look at his team, and then they took off to the unknown location of a CIA facility.
His hands cuffed, squeezed between the two agents and with his ankle sprained, Neal tried to fight down the rising wave of fear and panic.
He needed a plan. He needed it fast. But his head was empty and he desperately felt that he had run out of options.
The CIA agents had left him with no illusions about the direness of his situation. ‘We don’t need Burke, and we only need you fit enough to talk. Try to think of that before you do anything stupid.”
He had to get Peter out of the car before things went to hell.
As much as he usually abhorred the New York traffic, right now Neal wished it was thicker to slow them down. As it was, their black sedan was moving way too fast, heading for the less inhabited parts unknown and smaller, lesser known roads.
He hoped Mozzie had listened to his warnings. He hoped he would be smart enough to take his new identity and get out. Maybe Sally would talk some sense into him.…
He was pulled out of his thoughts when Peter cleared his throat. “So where exactly are we going?”
Greeves shot him a brief glance. “Our station in New York is–”
“WATCH OUT!”
As in slow motion, Neal saw a blue van appear unexpectedly from a side alley, coming at them from the right side. In last second, the agent driving tried to steer the wheel.…
CRASH!!!
Too late.
The force of the impact threw them all to the left, only their seatbelts keeping them seated. As the car continued moving, they narrowly missed crashing into another vehicle going the opposite direction. Honking, screeching of the breaks… Finally everything stilled.
The car had stopped moving. They were alive.
For a few seconds, there was just a tense silence. Finally, Neal allowed himself a shaky breath of relief. Then he looked around properly and all the relieved feelings died right there and then.
“Peter–”
“Quiet.”
The words froze in Neal’s throat as he felt the cold steel of a gun firmly pressed to his side. But he couldn’t keep his eyes off Peter in the front seat.
The right front side of the car had taken most of the hit. Barely conscious, Peter was quietly moaning. The side of his head was marked by an ugly gash that was bleeding rather heavily.
“Agent Burke?” called the CIA agent on the left of Neal before he stood up and climbed out of the car, seemingly to check on Peter.
‘Pick the cuffs,’ motioned the other agent next to Neal silently.
Neal shook his head.
‘Do it.’
“No.”
A brutal jab of the gun into his ribs had him gasping in pain. “What will they think if they find him dead and you missing?” murmured the agent into his ear. “Pick. The. Cuffs.”
Swallowing, Neal obeyed the order and then remained very still in his seat. Suddenly, another car arrived and a group of people came out. Neal’s eyes widened when he recognized their leader – the blond man who had almost caught them that time when Mozzie had called his dad.
“You….”
“Come, Mr. Caffrey,” stated the man and opened the door of his car.
With the gun in his back and Peter sitting there helpless, Neal saw no other option but to climb into the car.
“Where are you taking me?”
The leader of his captors smiled at him. “Won’t spoil the surprise.”
When Neal spotted the syringe, it was already too late.
He barely had the time to hiss in surprise before being injected with the unknown drug. And then his world went black and he knew no more.
“Agent Burke! Can you hear me?”
“… what…?”
“Burke, do you understand me?”
Peter blinked.
Where was he? What was going on?
Opening his eyes, Peter’s whole world was unfocused, muffled – like he was seeing his surroundings through a thick fog. Blinking again, his brain began to recognize the shapes around him. Someone was standing over him, waving their hand over his face. He glanced around – a seat with polyethylene padding, pieces of glass, dented door.… He was sitting in a car that wasn’t his. There had been a crash. Peter tried to remember.…
Then it finally clicked.
The man above him was Agent Greeves from the CIA. He had been with his team, had tracked down Neal to his apartment and then arrested him. Then the CIA had shown up and then–
“Neal!”
“Burke!” exclaimed Greeves in relief. “Thank God – we were worried about you there. I’ve already called the ambulance. Don’t worry, you’re gonna be all right– ”
“Neal,” interrupted Peter. “Is he okay?” He tried to turn around–
The sudden wave of nausea hit him so hard that Peter almost threw up.
“Burke? Jesus, you’re all green. The ambulance will be here in a minute–”
“I think it’s just a concussion,” murmured Peter, leaning back against his seat and closing his eyes.
“Hey! Stay with me. Don’t fall asleep.”
Peter looked back at Greeves. “I was just … never mind.” Carefully trying to lift himself up, he suddenly became aware of the throbbing pain in his head. He touched it lightly and then quickly pulled his hand away, hissing in pain. Looking down at his fingers, Peter felt slightly sick when he realized they were covered in blood.
“Here.” Greeves handed him a piece of gauze.
Peter took a deep breath before pressing it against his head. “Thanks.… How’s everyone else? Is Neal okay?”
“If he’s not, he certainly looked like he was.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Caffrey is gone,” explained Greeves with a grimace. “He took advantage of the confusion of the crash and disappeared.”
“What? How did that happen?” Peter tried to get up.
Greeves stopped him. “Whoa, don’t move.… I already have someone looking into it. I can assure you that catching Caffrey is one of our priorities.”
“Right.…”
Suddenly they heard the sirens.
“Looks like the ambulance finally arrived,” said Greeves, straightening himself and turning around. Peter waited until they were approached by a pair of paramedics.
“Sir, can you step out of the car?”
“I can try.…” Peter swung his legs to the door, then had to still as his whole world rocked.
“Let me help you,” said one of the paramedics understandingly.
With the woman’s support, Peter managed to stand up on his feet. Somehow, they made it to the ambulance. Before the door closed behind them, Peter stared at the street – two crashed vehicles. Broken glass. Chaos.
And Neal had taken advantage of the situation to escape once again.
Then the ambulance door shut and the view disappeared from Peter’s sight. They were going to the hospital.
After Neal’s disturbing phone call, they had waited for him the whole night.
At some point, Sally brought Mozzie a cup of tea. Then she sat next to him, gently squeezing his hand. When he noticed that Sally had dozed off as the morning was approaching, Mozzie momentarily broke from his reverie to bring her a blanket and put it over her shoulders. Then he returned to his place, pushing himself to stay awake in case Neal contacted them.
But his cell wasn’t ringing.
He kept his watch through the night up to dawn and then past it, so focused on his phone and the door that he didn’t even realize when Sally woke up.
“Moz. He’s not going to call.”
He knew.
But as long as he kept his watch, as long as he didn’t give up–
“Moz. Paul.”
Sally’s voice finally brought Mozzie back to reality. Neal had been caught.
But he was going to bring him back, and Sally had promised to help him.
Mozzie was determined that he would succeed. But first he needed a plan.
‘Trust the Suit,’ Neal had said. Who the hell was that?
It was clear that their quest required more information.
Fortunately, that was one area where Mozzie felt completely confident. “I’ll have to contact some people.”
Sally had started making toast for breakfast, but paused as she turned to Mozzie. “Who do you have in mind?”
They’d been best friends for almost two decades. They’d been on the run together in their hopeless act of defiance against the CIA. They had talked so much during the last few weeks that Mozzie had thought that he knew enough about Neal’s life. But then who was the Suit?
There were two people at least who could give him some answers.
“The people who are loyal to Neal, June Ellington and Hale.”
“They’ll be watched,” warned Sally.
Mozzie smiled. “Don’t worry. Between the two of us, I’m sure we’ll find a way.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” replied Sally grimly.
‘Yeah, me too.’
Reaching an internal decision, Mozzie nodded. “Okay. First off, I should–”
“You should have breakfast with me and then get some sleep,” interrupted Sally.
Mozzie blinked. “But Neal–”
“You won’t help him if you collapse on your feet.”
“Don’t you know what they say? The first forty-eight hours are crucial–”
“To find a missing person, I know.” Sally paused. “But this isn’t a case for the Missing Persons Unit. We’re not cops; we already know who has Neal – and don’t forget that the real target of the CIA is still you.”
Mozzie frowned. “So what do you suggest?”
“Get the IDs that Neal had made for you,” advised Sally.
Mozzie shook his head. “No, that – we have to assume that sooner or later, the CIA will get Neal to talk.”
“He won’t give you up.”
“Unless he has no choice. Anything that he knows, the CIA might know too.” Suddenly his eyes stilled at Sally’s face. “Which means … oh no.”
“What?”
“Neal knows about you. Sooner or later, the CIA will too.”
“He doesn’t know my real name or where this place is,” stated Sally firmly.
“He knows about the club. He knows some of your friends. From that point.…” Mozzie hesitated. “Now that they have Neal, your face is out there too.… I have to go.”
“What?” The hurt and shock in Sally’s voice was almost palpable. “Look, this place is safe. Not even my friends know–”
“Doesn’t matter. The CIA will find it.” Recalling the afternoon before, Mozzie went to the couch to pick up his jacket and then started collecting the rest of his things. “Besides, that’s not what this is about.”
“So after everything, after we – after you dragged me into this, you’re just going to leave?”
“I’m not leaving you, I– “Mozzie sighed. “Look. I’ve already ruined Neal’s life. I can’t do the same to you.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” said Sally sharply. “Neal knew the risks but chose to help you, and I’m doing the same. You can’t stop me.”
“Sally – please. You should walk away. If Neal–”
“Just because they caught him, doesn’t mean that Neal will drop my name,” interrupted Sally.
Mozzie raised his eyebrows. “Now you trust him?”
“I know he won’t betray you,” answered Sally. “He knows that if he tells them my name, it will lead them to you. So he won’t.”
“I know that Neal will do his best to buy us some time,” said Mozzie. “But eventually–”
“Neal doesn’t know about Project Lethe,” said Sally. “He doesn’t know that we’ve cracked the CIA financial records, and if we’re lucky, neither does the CIA. That works in our favor.”
Mozzie didn’t reply.
He thought about how Neal had been framed because he stood in the CIA’s way. As the Vulture, Sally was just as vulnerable to their machinations if her identity was exposed.
Staring at Sally, Mozzie couldn’t squash his feeling of unease.
He shouldn’t have let her in. He didn’t know why he had let Neal involve her in this. They would have found another way.
“Talk to your friends,” he said at last. “Make sure that they won’t reveal your name, then burn the contacts and break all ties. That should slow them down a bit and buy you some time while I’m tracking down the Suit and Neal.… Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me.”
Silence.
“You’re breaking up with me.” stated Sally incredulously.
“I don’t want you involved.”
“Is this some sort of misplaced chivalry or have you simply decided that you don’t need me anymore? And I don’t know which of these options is more stupid.”
“Sally– this was a mistake.”
She glowered at him. “I want to help Neal and to stop those egomaniacs from poking around people’s heads. You can’t stop me. Even if you wanted to, you need my skills. ”
The worst thing was that she was right.
Wordlessly, Mozzie put his bag down and tossed the jacket at the rack in the foyer before returning to the kitchen. He accepted the plate with toast and a glass of juice from Sally. They ate the breakfast in an unpleasant silence that carried on even as they returned to the computer and continued searching through the CIA database.
But that day, the financial records seemed to be hiding their secrets. As their frustration and tiredness built up, the tension between Mozzie and Sally just grew worse. Despite a long and tenuous search that was interrupted only by the takeaway lunch from a nearby restaurant and the occasional break, their efforts turned out to be in vain.
It was almost midnight when they finally admitted defeat.
“I have to go to work tomorrow,” said Sally as she turned off the secondary computer systems. “I already took an unexpected vacation for one week and an unpaid leave for another. If I don’t show up tomorrow, I’ll get fired.”
With his apartment swarming with CIA and FBI, Mozzie spent the night on Sally’s couch. Despite his exhaustion, his eyes wouldn’t close as he kept staring at the ceiling, trying to make plans for the future.
The next morning, their argument seemed forgotten. They smiled at each other in unspoken apology as they ate Sally’s gluten-free pancakes; they chuckled when they ran into each other in the bathroom and Sally gave Mozzie a quick peck on his cheek before she rushed off to work. With the whole day ahead, Mozzie then went to pick up the IDs that Neal had made for them and ran a couple of other errands. After returning home, he started going over the CIA records again, but he didn’t dare to explore on his own too much without Sally’s skills. The rest of the time, he was considering ways to contact June and Hale.
Mozzie was a bit surprised when he found out about Sally’s official profession. Nevertheless, her job as a bicycle courier meant that she often came home late, rewarding him with a tired but thankful smile for making dinner and a cup of her favorite black tea. She would take a shower, sometimes allowing Mozzie to join her and help her if her muscles were particularly sore. Then, when they were both fed and refreshed, Sally would turn on her whole monstrous system of computers and the two of them continued the task of trying to track Neal and find a hole in the CIA security.
That went on for five days.
On the morning of the sixth day, they had breakfast and then Sally left as usual, giving Mozzie a quick goodbye kiss. Mozzie kept on his smile until the door closed behind her. Then he went to the box with Sally’s summer clothes and pulled out the stack of newly forged passports and other IDs. Opening one of the passports, Mozzie stared at the ID that he would swear to be completely legitimate, had he not known that he had forged it himself only yesterday afternoon.
Neal had taught him well.
Putting the passports at the bottom of his bag, Mozzie added his clothes, his toiletries, his flash drive and a stack of notes from his and Sally’s research. He almost made it to the door when he hesitated.
Then he swiftly turned around and left without looking back.
Part II - On LJ | On DW
