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sheenianniTitle: Conspiracies: Revelations (Part VI)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sheenianni
Artist:aragarna
Fandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
PART VI
Although Peter was confident in his plan, he was aware that there were too many variables to predict an exact outcome. Given that the CIA was involved, he knew better than to go in without backup.
“You called, boss?” asked Diana when she entered his office.
Peter gave her a nod. “Diana. Shut the door, please.”
Closing the door, Diana picked up a chair and sat down opposite Peter. “It’s about Caffrey, isn’t it?”
Peter gaped at her. “Have I really become that predictable?”
“You have a face when it comes to him,” said Diana with a smile. “What’s going on, then?”
Peter took a deep breath. “I’m going to call Agent Greeves again.”
“I thought they weren’t taking your calls. What makes you think he’ll talk to you now?”
“That’s right, they’ve always had someone run interference. But not anymore.” Peter paused. “I’m going to tell them that I discovered Neal has an accomplice named Paul Handerson.”
Diana whistled. “That should get their attention – at least provided that ‘Paul’ isn’t lying.”
“Precisely. I want you to be there when I call them and listen with me. I need a second opinion on their reaction.”
“You’re killing two birds with one stone,” said Diana in realization. “If Handerson is lying–”
“Then we’ll know, and Handerson’s probably covering for Neal, in which case we’ll arrest him for obstruction of justice,” said Peter grimly. “But if he’s telling the truth, this should be enough to get us a meeting with the CIA. If we play this right, we’ll then get some grounds for launching a proper investigation.”
Diana nodded. “It’s a good plan.”
“If Mozzie’s right, by the time we get something, it might be too late.” If the CIA had Neal.…
“Peter. You’re doing all you can.”
“What if that’s not enough?”
“It will be…. Make the call, boss.”
For a moment, Peter just stared into her eyes. Then he took out his phone, put it on speaker and dialed Greeves’s number. “This is Special Agent Peter Burke, FBI. I need to talk to Agent Greeves.”
“Mr. Burke–”
“Agent.”
“Agent Burke, Agent Greeves is very busy at the moment.”
“I understand. Just tell him that I wanted him to know that I identified one of Neal Caffrey’s accomplices as a scientist by the name of Paul Handerson.”
A pause. “I’ll speak to him right away.”
Peter exchanged a glance with Diana. It looked like they were going to see some results.
* * *
“So, you ready?”
Mozzie swallowed. “No…. Yes. I guess. As ready as I’m likely to be.”
Sally shook her head. “Given that you skipped on me, I think I should be enjoying this more.”
“I told you, I just didn’t want to–”
“You used me, Mozzie. I said I was going to help, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with you leaving in the middle of the day without even a word of goodbye.”
Ouch.
Mozzie had known that Sally would be pissed off that he had just taken off without talking to her, but he should have realized that she would be genuinely hurt by his actions. He had screwed up.
“I’m sorry, Sally. I–”
She shook her head. “This isn’t the time, Moz.”
“Right.” Neal needed them. Nothing else mattered right now. He cleared his throat. “So, how do I look?”
Scrunching her nose, Sally gave him a scrutinizing look. “Different. Kind of official … in a stick-in-the-mud way.”
“Great,” said Mozzie dryly. “So, if this goes south–”
“ – I’m not coming to bail you out,” finished Sally.
“Great. Okay, let’s do this.”
“Wait! We forgot the photo,” exclaimed Sally suddenly.
“Shit. You’re right.” With a small sigh, he took off his coat and placed it against the trunk of a nearby car.
He had already made a couple of ID photos before, but they needed a bigger picture for the official site. Even so, Mozzie really didn’t relish doing this inside the FBI garages.
“Could you turn around?” he asked Sally. “I need to change the shirt and tie.…”
“Why? It’s not like I haven’t seen you before,” said Sally sweetly.
“Sally, please, it’s freezing here. Can you keep watch?”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“Something tells me you could have easily doctored this on your computer,” said Mozzie while he was unbuttoning his shirt with nervous fingers.
“Maybe. What would be the fun in that?”
Mozzie wanted to be upset, but the impulse died when he saw the badly hidden fear behind Sally’s callous expression. She helped him fix his tie, then placed him in front of a white wall just a few feet away from her bicycle and rummaged in her bag for a while before taking out her camera.
“Okay, done,” said Sally after taking a few photos of Mozzie’s face and putting her camera away. “So, how much time do we have? Where’s Burke and Berrigan?”
“Still inside,” replied Mozzie while he quickly changed back to his original clothes. “The Suit is still doing something at his computer. They should be leaving soon though.”
“Okay,” said Sally and ran a quick hand through her hair. “So, that’s Burke’s car, then.”
Mozzie swallowed. “And you’re sure that the cameras….”
Sally patted her smart phone. “All taken care of.”
Well, that was something at least. “For the record, I want it noted that this is a truly horrible idea….”
“It was your idea,” Sally reminded him.
“I know!” Mozzie exclaimed. “That doesn’t mean it’s not horrible.”
Before he lost his nerve, he pulled out an exquisite set of lock picks, courtesy of June (“Byron used to carry these around everywhere during the good old days”) and experimentally took out two of them.
“I can’t believe we’re breaking into a fed’s car,” said Sally.
“Shhhh! Damn it, Sally!”
With shaking hands, Mozzie crouched down and inserted the lock picks into the lock of the trunk.
“What if they take Berrigan’s car?”
“They won’t!” Mozzie hissed back.
“But what if–”
“I need to concentrate, okay?”
It was not working. Mozzie’s hands were sweaty and trembling. He kept constantly glancing over his shoulder, expecting armed FBI agents to suddenly emerge from nowhere and arrest him to the sound of police sirens.
He used to live on the streets, for Christ’s sake! He had easily picked the training locks that Neal had given him at the hotel a few weeks ago, and now Peter was talking to Berrigan about something, and why was this not working–
“Let me see it,” said Sally suddenly.
Mozzie snapped. “If you think you can do a better job–”
She pushed away the lock pick set he tried to thrust into her hands. Instead, she gave the trunk a long look before bending slightly and pushing the opening button. She then pulled up, nearly effortlessly opening the trunk while Mozzie’s jaw dropped. “It’s not locked.”
“Oh.”
He should have known that himself.
Mozzie cleared his throat. “I didn’t–”
“Get in, Mozzie.”
She squeezed his hand as he squeezed himself into the trunk. Once he was sitting inside, Mozzie put on a pair of gloves before curling on the bottom of trunk. They gave each other a long look. “Sally–”
“Be safe, okay?”
Mozzie gulped. “Close it, please.”
‘Neal, I’m coming.’
Then Sally smashed the door down and Mozzie’s world plunged into darkness.
* * *
As it turned out, Peter’s bluff had worked perfectly. Within minutes of his call, he had Greeves on the phone despite all of their previous claims that the agent wasn’t available. What was more, before Peter even had the chance to suggest talking face to face, Greeves had already proposed a meeting – on the afternoon of the same day, on the side of an old road in the middle of nowhere, two hours away from New York City.
Peter and Diana exchanged a glance. The CIA was spooked all right. It looked like Mozzie’s information might have been truthful after all.
They spent the morning and early afternoon working on other cases, before Peter went to inform Hughes that he and Diana were going to check a lead on the Caffrey case. Hughes gave him a grave nod and told them to be careful, not even bothering with voicing his objections. At three o’clock in the afternoon, Diana and Peter went to Peter’s car. While Peter started the Taurus, Diana typed in the coordinates. They would be there in a bit under three hours.
Almost running over a cycler on their way out of the garage, Peter swore. He hoped this wasn’t some sort of premonition about how their trip was going to go.
“I spoke to Jones,” said Diana into the silence as Peter drove through the streets of New York.
“Uh-huh?”
“I told him to cancel his plans for tonight, just in case. I also called a family friend and our lawyer to be on call. I thought it might be good to take some precautions in case things turned ugly. I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”
“What?” Peter looked at her in surprise. “Diana….”
“We both know this isn’t just an ordinary case, Peter,” said Diana gravely.
Peter clenched the wheel a bit more tightly. “No, you’re right, it’s not…. Next time, talk to me first.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“Good.”
Despite his surprise, Peter didn’t begrudge Diana her initiative. If things went sideways, it would be good to have some additional backup. And even though it’d been just a few months since Diana had come back from DC, she had been a full-fledged agent for years and Peter trusted her judgment.
He knew he could trust her to have his back.
For the next twenty minutes, they drove mostly in silence.
“So, what are you and Christie planning for the holiday?” asked Peter.
Diana smiled. “Just some quiet time together, in our apartment…. I still don’t have a present for her. Ever since she popped the question, everything I come up with feels so–”
“Ordinary?” Peter suggested.
“Yeah.”
“You’ll figure it out,” said Peter confidently.
“What about you, boss? Any special plans?”
Peter smiled. “No, I guess it’s the same as you, just some quiet time together…. And the best thing is, El’s parents are visiting her sister in Canada, so it will be just the two of us, the whole time–”
“No fathers-in-law trying to psychoanalyze you?”
Peter cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t, Peter,” said Diana teasingly.
Peter blushed lightly, though deep down, he truly was glad that he wouldn’t have to meet Alan Mitchell for another few months. Elizabeth’s father might be a good man, but his stare always gave Peter the creeps. He very much preferred to keep his head to himself.
“So, have you talked to Elizabeth about this ‘road trip’?” asked Diana out of blue.
“No, I….” Peter sighed. “Well, she knows the basics, but I didn’t want her to worry unnecessarily. I should probably call her to say that I’ll be late tonight though….”
“I haven’t told Christie yet either,” Diana confessed. “She really freaked out after the shooting in the Ponder case…. It’s hard sometimes, isn’t it?”
“No kidding,” murmured Peter. “Enough about that. Tell me. How does it feel to be engaged?”
They spent the next forty minutes talking about their loved ones and comparing notes on relationship difficulties, until the conversation ran dry and they once again plunged into silence.
“What do you think we’ll find there once we meet them?” asked Diana a few moments later.
Peter hesitated. “After what Mozzie told me last night, I checked his story. I’m pretty sure he really is Neal’s friend just like he says.”
“So you do trust his version of the events?”
Peter pressed his lips together. “He ran away from his job, he used multiple aliases and he broke into my house. Those aren’t the actions of an innocent man.” Then again, those actions could be chalked to Mozzie’s paranoia, which was actually justified if he was telling the truth. And for better or worse, he was friends with Neal, both by his own admission and by the evidence Peter had found. “Until I hear a better version, I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“I was right. This is as far from ordinary as it can get.”
Peter gave her a grim, tense smile before he focused on the road again.
They should arrive at their destination in about fifty minutes.
* * *
They arrived at the meeting point ten minutes before the agreed time.
“It really is in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?” said Diana after she climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut.
Looking around them, Peter had to concede she was right.
Their road had branched away from the highway to lead them into the middle of fields, with a small forest nearby. The brown ground around them was hard and frozen, covered by a thin layer of frost and snow. Pulling his coat closer, Peter looked around and stepped into the middle of the road. He didn’t see anything yet.
Bam.
“What the–”
Peter and Diana exchanged a look.
Bam. BAM!
“It’s coming from the trunk,” said Diana in disbelief.
Suddenly, Peter’s phone started ringing. Almost automatically, he picked it up. “Hello?”
“Would you open your goddamn trunk, Suit?”
“What…. Mozzie?!?”
“Congratulations on your detective skills. By the way, you should fix your release latch. Now would you open the trunk, please?”
Still in a daze, Peter took a step forward and opened the trunk of his car.
There was a man. In his car. In his trunk.
The man turned off a small flashlight and tried to wriggle into a sitting position. “Okay, for the record, this is a really horrible way of traveling. Hi, Peter.”
Peter blinked before doing a double take. His passenger had ginger, visibly balding hair, light brown eyes with some sort of pigmentation defect in the left iris, and broad shoulders – but his expression and voice were very familiar. “Mozzie?”
“No, the Queen of Sheba,” retorted Mozzie when he’d finally gotten on his knees. “Hello. You must be Agent Berrigan. So pleased to meet you!”
“Hi, Mozzie,” said Diana dryly.
Peter finally managed to recover from his shock. “Mozzie! What the hell are you doing here?!”
“Calm down, I’ll tell you. Could you please help me out of the trunk first?”
“Not until I get some answers,” Peter barked angrily. “How did you plan this? No, scratch that. You broke into my car–”
“Yes, I hid in the trunk! Yes, I followed you to your meeting with the CIA, and by the way, if you hadn’t been so adamant before that you were going alone–”
“Oh no, you’re not putting that on me. We agreed that I’m a trained professional. You on the other hand by your own words are just a scientist wanted by the CIA. We had a plan–”
“Actually, you had a plan,” interrupted Mozzie with infuriating calm. “I never agreed to it. Besides, we didn’t know the CIA would be meeting us here. Did you really think I’d stay away when Neal’s life is on the line?”
“You’re going to screw up the operation,” said Peter with quiet fury. “What do you think will happen if the CIA sees you?”
“Nothing. They’re not going to recognize me.”
“Damn it, Mozzie!”
Even Diana almost jumped at Peter’s outburst. But Peter had a hard time controlling his temper.
“You’re putting us all at risk. You’re putting Neal at risk.”
Mozzie climbed out of the car and straightened himself out. “You don’t understand, Suit–”
“We need to get him out of here,” Diana spoke up suddenly.
Peter nodded. “Right.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” asked Mozzie sarcastically. “The CIA will be here any minute. I checked this place on Google maps. There’s nowhere to hide around here….”
“How did you even know about this meeting?” asked Peter.
“Ah. That. Well….” Mozzie blushed. “Remember when I visited you yesterday? You left your jacket over the couch. I kind of may have put a bug there….”
“WHAT?!?”
“Wait, you listened to us talking?!”
“….It’s on the inside of your collar.” Mozzie removed the receiver from his own ear and placed it into Peter’s palm. “You might want to take it off before the CIA gets here–”
“Damn it!”
Almost ripping his coat open, Peter quickly checked the lapel of his suit jacket – and of course, it was right there; a tiny flat oval piece of metal hiding on the left side of its neckline. He tore it out and then threw it on the ground before smashing it with his heel.
“Any other way you’ve been spying on us?” asked Diana with barely suppressed anger.
Mozzie shook his head. “No, I swear–”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Peter. “I don’t care what you were thinking, Handerson. You’re not coming with us to the meeting.”
“You can’t stop me from going! You have to understand–”
“I don’t have to do anything. You’re staying here. I’ll stick you back in the trunk if I have to.”
“You’d let me freeze and suffocate to prove a point?” exclaimed Mozzie. “Great job, Suit!”
“You managed just fine before,” barked Peter harshly. “How can you think even for a minute that they won’t recognize you through that flimsy disguise?”
“They won’t if you corroborate my story,” replied Mozzie.
“What could you possibly–”
“Former FBI Agent Jack Franklin, at your service. Wait … here we go.” Reaching into his coat, Mozzie pulled out an ID with his altered appearance photo and the name Jack Franklin written under it.
Peter plucked the ID out of Mozzie’s hand and turned it over. Had he not known it to be fake, he might have been fooled. “How did you get this? Did Neal make it? … You know this is fraud and identity theft.”
“Great, you can arrest me later. Look–”
“What do you know about Franklin?” asked Diana.
“Not much,” said Mozzie with a shrug. “He’s a former agent. I know he used to be on your team before mysteriously resigning a year ago, couldn’t find out why. I figured he’d be a safe identity to assume.”
Peter and Diana exchanged a look. “OPR discovered that Franklin was having an inappropriate relationship with his female CI – that’s criminal informant,” explained Diana. “Rather than breaking things off, he chose to leave the FBI.”
“Oh.”
“Right. As impressed as I am with your research and your newfound criminal skills, this still won’t work,” said Peter. “There are databases which have photographs, physical descriptions–”
“Boss.” Diana’s tense voice interrupted Peter’s speech. “They’re here.”
Both Peter and Mozzie turned around to see where Diana was looking.
A black car with tinted windows was slowly approaching them on the dirt road.
“What about him?” asked Diana quietly.
Peter shook his head. “It’s too late. They might have seen us already.”
Mozzie cleared his throat. “So, are you going to sell me out now?”
Peter needed to think.
There was no way to tell whether Mozzie’s disguise would fool the CIA. Even if it worked, the fact that the meeting was happening so far away from New York suggested that the CIA would probably take them to one of their bases. Which meant that Peter and Diana would essentially be helping Mozzie break into the CIA facility. Peter didn’t even want to think of the consequences if they got caught. The CIA car was maybe a minute and half away, and Peter still had no tangible proof that Mozzie was telling the truth about his whole story.
“Peter…?” said Mozzie softly, his previous bravado replaced by raw, honest fear.
Peter considered the events of the past few weeks. He thought of Elizabeth, of Hughes’s words, of Neal’s charm and his desperate plea, of people that were being hurt if Mozzie was telling the truth, of being caught and losing his job or worse.
A decision began to form in his mind. However, he also had a responsibility to his team.
“Diana.…”
“Either way, I’m with you, boss.”
Very well.
Peter took a deep breath before looking at Mozzie. “You better pray we find something to lead us to Neal. You’ll tag along, stay quiet, and if you take one step out of line I swear I’ll arrest you when this is over…. Welcome aboard, ‘Franklin’.”
A moment of silence.
“Thanks, Peter,” said Mozzie quietly.
“This is going to be interesting,” said Diana with a tense smirk.
The CIA car was almost there. Staring forward, Peter subconsciously straightened his coat and checked his watch.
“Oh, by the way,” said Mozzie suddenly, “former agent Franklin suffers from recurring asthma. I thought you should know that.”
“Wait, what do you mean? What asthma?”
But before Peter could get an answer to his question, the arriving car already stopped. Wondering how many more surprises were still waiting for him, Peter hoped he hadn’t just made a serious mistake.
* * *
“Agent Burke. I didn’t know there would be company.”
“Agent Greeves. Good afternoon.”
Facing the CIA agents, Mozzie briefly flashed to a moment some eight years ago, with a younger Neal sitting on his couch, fooling with his hat and explaining the concept of making up identities. ‘You can’t fake it if you force it. Embrace it. It’s still you, just … different. Stick as close to the truth as possible.’
If Mozzie wasn’t almost trembling with terror, he might actually appreciate the advice. Instead, he focused on keeping his back straight. He thought of the way he carried himself while supervising a class during a written exam, or the way he projected authority when facing a meeting with the financial department. He could do this.
Greeves’s stare felt like it was burning right through him. “I already know Agent Berrigan, but who are you, Mr…?”
“Jack Franklin,” supplied Peter when Mozzie’s throat tightened. “He’s a former member of the White Collar division.”
He had to say something. “It’s good to be in the field again,” said Mozzie after miraculously finding his voice.
Greeves looked sharply at both Peter and Mozzie. “Former member?”
“I left for personal reasons,” said Mozzie.
Greeves frowned. “That’s always a cover for another story.”
“I trust Jack Franklin implicitly,” inserted Peter fluently. “Now, if you stop questioning the members of my team, we could talk about why we’re here?”
“Fine.” Greeves made a pause. “There’s a facility twenty minutes away by car. You’ll have to be blindfolded during the ride.”
“What?” exclaimed Peter.
Berrigan glared. “We took a two-hour journey coming here, and now you’re going to play games with us?!”
“Agent Brett will drive your car,” motioned Greeves to the other CIA person accompanying him. “You’ll also have to surrender your phones. Of course, if you prefer to talk out here….”
“No, of course not,” exclaimed Mozzie jovially, trying to hide his panic. He’d never find where they were holding Neal if the CIA didn’t take them there. “Relax, everyone. Uh, I mean, look at this weather. Does anyone really want to stand around in this chill?”
Peter frowned. “Jack–”
“Is this how the CIA views cooperation?” asked Diana flatly. “Because it sure as hell seems like you’ve been doing your best to cut us out of this investigation.”
“Diana–”
“No, boss. They flat out refused to share any information with us and ignored all your attempts to communicate with them until we came up with new intel. That’s not how you treat an ally, and I’m done putting up with it.”
“You’re right,” said Peter after a short pause. He looked back at Greeves. “We’re done with this. Either show us some good will, or we will continue investigating this case on our own just like before. It’s your choice, Greeves.”
Greeves looked like he had swallowed a lemon. Mozzie had to admit that he was impressed. He tried to mirror Peter and Diana’s postures and look determinedly imposing.
“You’re aware that revealing the location of the base to anyone without authorization equals treason,” said Greeves at last.
“You told us to drive all the way here from New York,” Peter pointed out. “There were plenty of other possibilities if you had simply wanted to meet at a remote location. You planned on taking us to the facility; don’t deny it.”
Silence.
“A compromise, then,” said Greeves at last. “You’ll turn off your phones so the location can’t be tracked later. I’ll also drive with you and give you directions.”
Peter and Diana exchanged a look. Mozzie was surprised when Peter turned to him. “What do you think, Franklin?”
Mozzie cleared his throat. “I think it’s acceptable.”
“I agree,” said Peter. Berrigan just gave a nod.
“So it’s agreed,” said Greeves.
They were going to see the CIA base.
* * *
His disguise was the combined effort of June and Hale, while Sally had sworn that she had done her best with the online side of things, making Mozzie’s alias as foolproof as possible. Yet despite all their effort, Mozzie had still half-expected to be recognized on the spot when the CIA agents saw him. Of course, it was entirely possible that they knew who he was and were just putting on an act, luring him into a false state of security until he willingly walked deep into their territory.
Would they let Neal go if they had him? Somehow, Mozzie doubted it. But he couldn’t leave Neal in CIA’s clutches anymore, even if chances of success were slim at best.
Riding in the trunk before had been horrible and terrifying, but the current situation was even more bizarre. He was sitting next to Agent Berrigan, whose loyalty was fully to the Suit and who would probably turn on him the moment Peter Burke said a word. In the front seat, Greeves continued telling Peter the directions, and even as Mozzie hid his emotions behind a blank mask, his fear was slowly being replaced by cold rage and determination. Was Greeves the mastermind behind “Project Lethe”, the force that had stolen Mozzie’s research and driven him out of his home, or was he just a foot soldier in the CIA conspiracy? Was he responsible for Neal’s capture? Finally, there was Peter Burke himself. The agent was driving the car with an unreadable expression, and Mozzie couldn’t help but wonder what Peter was getting out of this. Earlier, he had been eager and desperate enough to accept any kind of help, but he was enough of a realist to know that nobody would risk this much out of pure altruism. No, the Suit had to want something. If it was within his powers, Mozzie would give it to him, as long as they got Neal back to safety and away from the CIA.
Suddenly, the road took a turn, and then a clearing opened in front of them, revealing a flat building surrounded by a tall electric fence. As per Greeves’ instructions, Peter drove them to a tall metal gate, which opened when Greeves stepped out of the car and swiped a card against it. Once they were inside, Peter parked the car in a free area next to several other vehicles. Mozzie’s adrenaline spiked when he realized that they had successfully gotten inside the lion’s den. Then the gate closed behind them with a loud creak, cutting off their only escape route.
Mozzie’s throat tightened. He glanced at Peter and Diana, both of whom looked completely calm while they climbed out of the car. Reminding himself that this was about Neal, Mozzie tried to keep his breathing even. Even if he had wanted to back out now, he had no choice but to see this through.
Going through his pockets, Mozzie palmed a pill which he had hidden there earlier, and then quickly swallowed it when the others weren’t watching him. Suppressing the trembling in his hand, he then opened the car door and joined the FBI and CIA agents.
The die was cast. Now he just had to hope that Peter and Berrigan were actually on his side.
* * *
As they entered the facility, Greeves had them patted down and walked them through a scanner. When the CIA agents asked Peter to take off his shoulder holster and his backup weapon, he felt almost naked. Even if Mozzie wasn’t there as the proverbial wild card, he and Diana were essentially undercover with no proper backup. Therefore, Peter was incredibly relieved when he received both of his guns back just a few moments later. By the look on Diana’s face, he was pretty sure that she felt the same way.
At last, Greeves seemed content with the results of the ‘inspection’. He handed them three “Visitor” cards with their names printed on them. “Take these and follow me.”
“So, where exactly are we going?” asked Peter curiously.
“There’s a meeting room nearby–”
“Fuck!”
Greeves, Peter and Diana all stopped and turned around.
Mozzie was half-bent over, clutching at his chest. His breathing was short and his face was white and sweaty.
Diana frowned. “Franklin, are you all right?”
Mozzie wheezed. With one hand against his throat, his other hand was desperately searching for something in his pocket.
For a second, Peter didn’t know what was happening. Then Mozzie’s words came back to him. Former agent Franklin suffers from recurring asthma.
“Damn it,” he exclaimed just as Mozzie pulled out his inhaler. He took it out of Mozzie’s trembling fingers, removed the cap and shook it. And it was a good thing he knew what to do from one of El’s nieces. “Let me help.”
Greeves looked at them sharply. “Burke…?”
“Franklin’s an asthmatic,” Diana lied fluently while Peter helped Mozzie take the first breath from the inhaler. “When his condition worsened, it was one of the reasons why he left the FBI.”
“I hate this,” gasped Mozzie in between short breaths.
“Hey, deep breaths. Settle down,” said Peter gently, even as his brain was working feverishly. What the hell was Mozzie doing? Was it a real asthma attack? Was it an act? Damn it! This wouldn’t be happening if he hadn’t decided to do his own thing and join them at the last moment! Was Mozzie going off script again, or did he have a genuine medical condition? Even if it was an act, Peter couldn’t break Mozzie’s cover now.
He swallowed down his anger and projected concern that was only half faked. “Is there some place where he could sit down? Do you have an infirmary around here?”
Greeves frowned. “I don’t think–”
Mozzie dissolved into another coughing fit.
“The infirmary!” barked Diana. “Which way is it, Greeves?”
“All right!” exclaimed Greeves before frowning again. “Agent Brett can take him there….”
“I’m coming with you. I’m not leaving a member of my team,” snapped Peter, still trying to keep Mozzie from keeling over.
“Don’t,” coughed Mozzie. “Go on, Peter…. I’ll be fine….”
“Jack, you’re barely standing,” protested Peter.
“You act as if I was dying.” Mozzie took another breath from the inhaler before speaking again. “Forget about me. I just need to sit down for a while….”
Peter frowned. “I don’t like this. Are you sure–”
“Just go, focus on the case,” wheezed Mozzie again.
Peter and Diana exchanged an uncertain look.
Then Peter looked into Mozzie’s eyes, and suddenly he knew.
The other man had some sort of a plan. Unfortunately, since Mozzie hadn’t confided in him, there was no way to tell if it was good or if it was going to be a complete disaster. Hell, Peter wasn’t even completely sure what Mozzie’s objective was–
Neal. Of course this was about Neal. The whole picture suddenly revealed itself so clearly, Peter wondered how he hadn’t seen it sooner.
Their plan had been to go in to gather evidence. Since Peter and Diana’s hands were tied, Mozzie was hoping to get separated from them and from the CIA to look for information on his own. Peter was now almost certain that the scientist was somehow faking his symptoms. Unless….
The CIA only had a handful of facilities in the whole United States. On the off-chance that Neal was actually being held here, they’d need to explore the base more closely … which was not going to happen while they had the CIA agents looking over their shoulders. Suddenly Greeves’s unwillingness to cooperate looked far more ominous than before.
They’d have him in a holding cell of some sort…. Unless they had hurt him. Unless….
Peter’s breath caught in his throat as the final piece finally fell in place. If Mozzie’s hunch was correct….
Was it even wise to split up? But they might not get another opportunity.
Okay.
Peter squeezed Mozzie’s arm. “Okay Jack, but I won’t rest unless I’m sure you won’t get worse again.” He glanced at Greeves. “Could someone take him to the infirmary, just in case? I’d really feel calmer if someone checked him over….”
Greeves and Brett exchanged a look. “I’ll take him there,” said Brett at last.
Mozzie breathed another puff from his inhaler before allowing the CIA agent to support him. Then Peter, Diana and Greeves watched them hobble in another direction before they disappeared around the corner. Then Greeves looked at Peter. “Out of curiosity, why did you even bring Franklin with you?”
“It’s the Christmas season,” said Diana. “We’re understaffed.”
“Jack Franklin was a good agent . It’s a damn shame that he had to leave the FBI,” said Peter with a bit of bitterness. “He still consults with us from time to time, and he knows the Caffrey case just as well as the rest of my team.”
“I understand.”
Normally, Peter would have bristled at Greeves’s derisive tone, but now he had more important things to deal with.
For better or worse, Mozzie was now on his own to do whatever was needed. It was up to Peter and Diana to buy him enough time.
Peter cleared his throat. “So, is there a place where we can talk?”
* * *
After learning that Peter and Diana would be meeting with the CIA, Mozzie had had a little under seven hours to plan the finer details of the whole encounter. Though he had been considering the eventuality for a while, it had still been a lot of work to do on such a tight schedule. Luckily, when he decided to fake the asthma attack, he only had to think of the university’s pharmacology lessons before choosing the right drug for the job. Sometimes it really paid to have an eidetic memory.
By the time he and his CIA chaperone arrived at the infirmary, Mozzie was pale, tired and wheezing, but still possessing his full mental capacity. A doctor glanced at them before raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Agent Brett. Who’s your companion…? Is that an allergic reaction?”
“Asthma attack,” replied the agent stiffly. “And he’s one of the FBI visitors.”
“I see….. Sit him down,” said the doctor.
They guided Mozzie to a bed.
“Let’s get him some oxygen,” said the doctor while Mozzie’s eyes subtly scanned their surroundings. “How long has he been like this?”
“About ten minutes,” replied Mozzie hoarsely before suffering another coughing fit.
“Okay. What’s your regular medication, sir?” asked the doctor. He had Mozzie take another breath from his inhaler before giving him an oxygen mask. Slowly, Mozzie began telling the doc all his fake medical history.
When the doctor started questioning Mozzie about possible contraindication for corticosteroids, the CIA agent’s patience finally ran out. “Do I have to be here for this?” asked Brett in obvious boredom.
The doctor just shook his head. “No, I got this.”
“Wonderful. Call me when you’re done.” With barely hidden disgust, Brett gave Mozzie one last glance before walking out and closing the door behind himself.
“All right, let me set up the IV,” said the doctor after they become alone. He stood up from the chair next to Mozzie’s bed and went to a nearby table with a computer. As the man turned around and opened one of the lower drawers, Mozzie knew he wouldn’t get a better opportunity.
Still holding the breathing mask, he quietly pulled out a regular-looking pen from his pocket. Then he aimed the pen at the doctor, silently recited a quick prayer and pressed the top.
“Huh.”
The tiny hidden dart flew five meters across the room before hitting the doc in the neck just as he started to turn around. The doctor didn’t even realize what had happened as he tumbled to the ground, unconscious. Even if he had practiced this regularly, Mozzie couldn’t have landed a better shot.
Staring at the body on the ground, Mozzie shook his head in awe. He had always loved weird gadgets and thingies, but honestly he had never expected them to work.
“This is so cool!”
He took one more breath from the oxygen mask before standing up and going to check on the doctor. Once he was certain the man was deeply asleep, Mozzie pulled out the dart and buried it in the nearby trash can.
Still having trouble breathing, he rummaged through several drawers before finding an EpiPen. He quickly gave himself the shot and then waited for a few moments until his breathing got back to normal. Time to get to work.
Although the CIA had searched them, Mozzie had been able to sneak in several interesting toys. The dart shooting pen was perhaps the most impressive, but there were other items that would come in handy – and that would have definitely raised strong suspicions had the CIA discovered them for what they really were.
First, Mozzie had to take care of the live feed that was watching the infirmary. It was a huge stroke of luck that the computer area wasn’t covered by the camera, which meant that nobody had seen him take out the doctor or what he was about to do now. Mozzie removed his cufflinks and then put them together, creating a working flash drive. He placed it in the computer, which was already turned on … and then turned his attention to his immediate surroundings while he waited for Sally’s virus to do its magic.
With the virtual site firmly in hands of his hacker friend, Mozzie focused on the physical reality. He knew he didn’t have much time – the sedating serum he had used on the doctor would work for an hour at most, but Brett might return even sooner than that. Pulling out a lock pick disguised as a tie clip, Mozzie quickly opened the drawer of the table, finding a phone, some pens and –
There was a file.
Quickly opening it, Mozzie started scanning through the information. When he realized what he was holding, he drew in a sharp breath and his hands began shaking.
Subject: 894NC
Description: Caucasian male (31), 5 ft 11¾ in, 172 lb. In good physical shape, no known medical conditions
Project results overview:
Sessions 1-3 – Subject has been resistant to imprinting techniques. Despite previous use of interrogation techniques, subject has fought against direct suggestions.
Sessions 4-5 – Using additional stimulation of brain’s pain centers, subject experienced severe confusion and disconnection from reality. Subject resisted questioning and imprinting techniques. Repeated application of pain stimuli led to severe seizures. Current course of action had been temporarily abandoned.
Session 6-7 – Subject slowly losing resistance to imprinting, not very secure in his identity. Subtle misdirection is more efficient than brute force.
Session 8 – Subject blames himself for betraying his friend, very defensive of his friend. Subject’s sense of guilt makes him significantly more susceptible to subtle influence.
Mercifully, the so-called overview ended there. The file then continued on in a more in-depth description, but Mozzie had had enough. He shut the file and tried to stop himself from puking.
He had proof. It wasn’t much, but it was something tangible. If he could take it away with him–
He’d never get past the scanner and pat down.
Mozzie shook his head. Evidence could wait. Right now, his first priority had to be Neal.
He thought he had recognized a stethoscope in the background of the photo Neal had sent him; therefore, had bet on Neal being held near the infirmary. In case he was wrong, Sally was furiously searching through the CIA database, but Mozzie knew getting around the base would be extremely difficult.
He glanced back at the computer. It looked like Sally had already taken control from afar. For a moment, a chat window had appeared on the screen. Sally informed him that she had put the camera signal in the infirmary and the surrounding rooms on a loop.
Mozzie leaned forward and began typing. ‘Can you get me the camera view from the surrounding rooms?’
For a few moments, there was no answer. Then the screen blinked before suddenly nine small rectangles appeared on it, each showing the view from a particular camera.
Mozzie’s breath got caught in his throat when he recognized the small figure in the middle right rectangle. Neal.
“Where? Sally, where is that?” Oh right, she couldn’t hear him.
Mozzie pulled the keyboard closer. ‘Where is middle-right?’ He pressed Enter.
To his dismay, nothing happened.
Mozzie tried typing the message again and then clicked uselessly on the mouse, but he could only watch the mini-screens with the various camera views. It soon became clear that he had lost control over the computer. Damn it!
Never mind. Neal had to be somewhere near, so Mozzie was going to find him.
With Sally poking around the system and searching though the CIA database, Mozzie plucked out his flash drive and rearranged his “cufflinks” before glancing around. He was about to leave when he paused. He had already seen the closet on the other side of the room … except if it was just a closet, then why was there a reader for a chip card instead of a common lock?
Incredulously, Mozzie approached the closet. Could it really be that simple…?
The door was closed. Swallowing his unease, Mozzie walked back to the doctor’s body on the ground and quickly searched him before finding his ID card. Pulling it off his neck, Mozzie then returned to the closet and pressed the card against the reader. The door opened with an almost inaudible croak.
Mozzie stepped inside and then froze. “Neal…?”
* * *
They had to stall.
When Peter had planned the meeting, he had thought that he would be gathering information on the CIA. He’d considered strategies and approaches, made plans in order to find evidence which would allow him to open a full-scale investigation – and then Mozzie had interfered. Now Peter was in a meeting room with Diana and three CIA agents, desperately trying to buy Mozzie some time and silently praying that they didn’t get caught.
“I first realized the connection between Caffrey and Handerson when I re-read Neal’s prison records,” Peter explained. “For some unknown reason, Handerson had made repeated visits to Caffrey. I think it’s reasonable to assume that they had been working together even before Caffrey’s initial arrest….”
“It looks like Handerson has been using the alias “Mozzie Haversham” for quite a few months. We tied him back to an old heist,” said Diana. “Caffrey might have been the front man with Paul Handerson pulling the strings.”
“This is deeply interesting,” said Greeves with a serious expression. “And you’re saying Handerson is a biologist?”
“Yes, a university teacher. Why?”
Greeves exchanged a deeply troubled look with the other CIA agents. “There’ve been rumors about a new biological weapon secretly being developed by a group of our own scientists. If this Handerson is somehow involved….”
Their concern looked so real that Peter almost, almost believed them. Next to him, Diana stiffened imperceptibly.
But then Peter remembered the events of the past few weeks, and it made no sense.
He couldn’t let them know that he knew.
Mozzie might have been getting evidence and looking for Neal, but Peter had to make sure that they had an escape route available so that they were able to get off the base when they were done. He began retelling another long story, this time about Neal’s history and his general unwillingness to work with a partner.
“So, where do you think this ‘Paul Handerson’ could be hiding?” asked Greeves at last.
Peter shook his head. “No idea. No idea at all.”
This time, he actually saw the glimpse of irritation on Greeves’s face.
Peter struggled to hide his growing contempt for the agent. “My turn. What do you know about Neal Caffrey?”
* * *
“Neal…?”
The first glance on his friend’s still form was a stab to the heart. Taking a shaky breath, Mozzie stepped closed, forcing down feelings of revulsion and regret.
Neal was lying on a bed, his eyes closed, looking like he was asleep. However, the seemingly peaceful image was shattered by the restraints tying him to the bed, by the cannula in his arm, but most of all by Neal’s deeply haunted expression that not even sleep could take away.
As in a trance, Mozzie walked closer and picked up one of Neal’s lifeless hands. If he hadn’t developed the procedure, hadn’t called Neal.…
“No, I’m not doing this.” He could lay blame later. For now, he had get them out of there.
Mozzie gently shook Neal’s shoulder. “Neal? Neal, wake up.”
Nothing.
“Neal!”
Still no answer.
Not knowing what had been done to his friend but knowing there was no time to waste, Mozzie pulled away a bit of Neal’s sleeve and pinched him strongly on the inner side of his forearm.
“Ouch!”
Trying to rise, Neal was pulled back by the straps around his chest. Cursing himself, Mozzie immediately began to remove the restraints. “Sorry about that,” he said as his fingers fumbled with the strap buckles. Finally, he helped Neal sit up. “Neal, I thought – I’m so glad that…. I came to get you out of here. I’m so, so sorry it took me this long….”
Mozzie gave Neal a painful grin, but the smile froze on his lips. Looking around, Neal’s eyes were unfocused, as if he didn’t even know where he was.
Mozzie ignored the lump in his throat. “Hey, Neal…. Look at me. It’s me, Paul … Mozzie. I came here for you, okay? Neal–”
Neal jerked, then stared straight into Mozzie’s eyes. For a moment, there was silence. “Moz…?” whispered Neal at last.
“Thank God.” Mozzie blinked away his tears, then lost control and pulled Neal in a rough hug. “Thank God….”
OUCH!
Mozzie gasped, clutching at his side. Belatedly, he realized Neal had punched him. He reflexively glared before he saw the expression of utter horror on his friend’s face.
“I- I’m so sorry….” Neal swallowed. “W-what are you doing here? No….”
Mozzie just shrugged. “Ah, don’t worry–”
“No. Oh, please, no.”
“Neal–”
“Y-you’re not supposed to be here. You can’t be here! You can’t– how did they find you?”
“It’s okay–”
“Oh God, what have I done? I must have told them…. Moz, I swear, I didn’t mean to–”
“Neal, calm down. Neal!” Mozzie took a deep breath. “You didn’t tell them. Listen to me, you didn’t tell them. I came on my own.”
“You…. They didn’t catch you?”
Mozzie shook his head. “I came to get you. I got into the base, faked an asthma attack, then knocked out the doctor – it’s a long story. Peter and Diana Berrigan helped me–”
“Peter?” asked Neal hoarsely.
“The Suit’s here too. I found him, just like you told me, remember?”
“You – you figured it out?”
“Of course I did,” exclaimed Mozzie with fake cheer. “Did you have any doubts?”
“No,” replied Neal with a shy smile. “I – Moz….”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Mozzie. Then he glanced at his wristwatch and turned grim. “Listen, we need to get out of here. Do you think you can walk?”
“I…. probably.” Neal took a deep breath before pushing his feet across the side of the bed.
“Great. Okay. We can do this.” Mozzie took a deep breath. “Okay, so Sally’s looking for a way out. I’m going to get you some clothes – oh! I forgot.” He took off his left shoe and began messing with the sole, until he revealed a small compartment and pulled out a tiny round capsule. “Here they are; colored eye contacts. I got plain hazel for you – I hope they’re the right size; Hale’s friend had to guess from your photo. Then there’s this….” He pulled a fake beard out of the secret pocket of his suit. “It’s ugly, but it’s distinctively not you, so…. I wanted to get you glasses too, but I feared they wouldn’t get through a scanner. Oh, by the way, we owe June a small fortune … most of our money was at the apartment when the FBI found you, and I had to pay for a lot of stuff…. ”
Putting all the trinkets on the bed, Mozzie tried to remember if there was anything else. He decided not to worry about how stiffly Neal was sitting, very obviously not touching any of the things Mozzie had just showed him. “Okay, put these on while I get you some better clothes.”
Neal’s eyes widened in fear when Mozzie moved toward the door. “Wait–”
“I’ll be right back,” promised Mozzie soothingly, then hurried towards the door and back into the infirmary.
He checked the computer screen, relieved that he could use the keyboard again. He asked Sally where the nearest storage room was, then told her to look into the less obvious ways out of the building. Somehow, he managed to sneak out, find a storage closet in a nearby corridor and collect a janitorial uniform without being noticed.
When he returned to the infirmary, Mozzie was surprised to find Neal sitting on the chair in front of the computer, hugging himself as he stared at the screen.
“Hey,” said Mozzie.
Startled, Neal stood up, almost knocking over the chair. He stared at Mozzie with visible fear before relaxing just the tiniest bit. “Hey.”
Mozzie gave him an encouraging smile. “I brought you the clothes, see?”
Neal had already put on the fake beard, but he hadn’t yet touched the contacts. When Mozzie offered him the clothes, he stared at it without comprehension for a moment, then finally accepted it and started putting it on. Resisting the urge to stare, Mozzie turned away to give his friend a bit of privacy.
He checked his watch again. It had already been over half an hour since Brett had brought him here, which meant they were running out of time.
“Please…?”
He turned around to find Neal’s hands shaking as he tried to button up his shirt. Neal’s face was filled with shame as he gave Mozzie a pleading look. “Here, let me help,” said Mozzie understandingly. “See? All good. Now, if you can put on the contacts … Neal…?”
Neal clenched his fists and looked away.
Mozzie cleared his throat. “Never mind, we can do this. Look at the ceiling, then at me and try not to blink….”
It took them a few tries, but finally they succeeded in putting the lenses on. With the beard, different eye color and the new clothes, Mozzie finally declared Neal’s disguise passable, though he was still recognizable on a closer look.
Mozzie looked at the screen again. “Okay, it seems Sally has found us a way out. There’s a small door that requires a key card, but Sally says she can circumvent that. We have a car outside–”
“No.”
“What?” asked Mozzie in disbelief. “Neal, we have to go now–”
Neal shook his head. “W-we can’t leave Peter here.”
“Oh.” Damn it, how did he keep forgetting these things?
Before he had seen the state that Neal was in, Mozzie had had a plan to get them all out. Now, he was almost tempted to say screw Burke and Berrigan. Neal was barely keeping it together, and Mozzie was so tired – how was this even his life? He was a scientist, for Christ’s sake; he wasn’t made for this spy and sneaking around stuff. The suits, they were trained agents, they could figure it out. Besides, they worked for the government, and Mozzie didn’t feel very charitable about the authorities right now. And if Burke hadn’t led the CIA to Neal, they wouldn’t even be here in the first place….
They could just leave. With Sally controlling the cameras and Peter still keeping the CIA occupied, nobody would be the wiser. By the time the CIA found out, he and Neal would be long gone, and hopefully Moz would never find out what happened afterwards.…
Mozzie swallowed the bile in his throat. “No. You’re - you’re right. We can’t leave them here.” He took a shaky breath. “They took our phones; I can’t text them. I’m sorry, but … we’ll have to split up.”
Neal gave him a tense nod. “Okay.”
“I’ll wake up the doctor, tell him he fainted or something … then I’ll let Brett take me back to Peter and Diana.… You’ll go on your own. I’m so sorry….”
“It’s okay. I- I can do it.”
Damn it! “Okay,” echoed Mozzie hollowly. “See the map? You do your thing, walk out… we’ll meet at the parking place. Okay?” Please make it to the parking place.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Blinking back tears again, Mozzie squeezed Neal’s shoulder. “You should go first–”
“No.”
“Neal…!” What now? What the hell was wrong now?
Neal swallowed. “T-the doctor. He’ll check if I’m still there….”
Damn it, damn it –
“Okay, you stay there until after I’m gone. Take this,” said Mozzie. “Sally’s still in control of the cameras. You wait until the doctor opens the door, then shoot him.”
Neal looked at the item in his hand. “Your tranq pen?”
“I told you it would come in handy one day.”
Neal nodded. “Thanks, Moz.”
Mozzie swallowed. “Good luck, kid.”
If anything went wrong – this didn’t work–
Mozzie shook his head. It was time to bring this to an end.
* * *
“We’ll update you if we find anything new on Caffrey,” said Greeves as he handed Peter his phone back.
“And we’ll do the same,” said Peter with a polite smile.
“Thank you for meeting with us,” said Diana as she too accepted her phone back. Next to them, Mozzie grunted something unrecognizable.
Behind his calm façade, Peter was barely managing to hide his tension. The moment Mozzie and Brett had rejoined them, Mozzie’s body language had told Peter that they had to get out as fast as possible. Thankfully, his conversation with Greeves had been almost over anyway. Peter didn’t know what was going on, but the way Mozzie was acting, it was pretty clear that he really didn’t want to be around to find out.
“Let me see you out of the complex,” said Greeves as he led them out of the building. Next to Peter, Mozzie stiffened and blanched.
It was dark outside when they started walking towards the parking lot.
“I’m really glad we could finally meet,” said Peter casually. “I’m looking forward to cooperating on this case.”
“As am I,” replied Greeves. “Goodbye, Agent Burke. I’ll open and close the gate behind you.” He then went to the gate while Peter, Diana and Mozzie continued to Peter’s Taurus.
They were almost at the car when Peter heard a soft moan. He froze before walking to the other side of the car. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the broken figure lying on the ground. Despite the dusk and the beard on his face, Peter recognized him immediately.
“Shit!”
“Give me the keys, boss. I’m a better driver,” said Diana in a low voice.
Peter nodded. “All right.”
“P-ter….” Neal whispered.
Peter swallowed. “Shhhh. It’s okay…. Come on, buddy….”
By the time Peter and Mozzie dragged Neal in the car and deposited him on the back seat next to Moz, Diana had already adjusted her seat and the mirrors. As she started the car and pulled out, the gate began to open.
Mozzie pushed Neal to the car floor just before Greeves turned around.
“Slow and easy,” muttered Diana as she drove them to the gate.
For a moment, Peter thought he saw a flicker of suspicion in the CIA agent’s face, but then Greeves let them drive through the gate without trouble.
Peter exhaled. “They didn’t see him.”
When they took a turn, the CIA facility disappeared from their sight. Mozzie had just pulled Neal up when they heard a shrill of the alarm coming from the facility.
“Fuck!”
“Looks like they just found out,” said Diana. She then increased the car speed as much as she dared.
“I’m calling Hughes, then you can call your contacts,” said Peter grimly. Diana gave him a wordless nod as she drove them through the woods.
However, as Peter tried to dial Hughes’s number, he realized his phone wasn’t working. “Damn it!”
“Try mine,” offered Diana.
“They might be blocking your phones,” said Mozzie. “They did that to me, before. Besides, we should probably toss them before they track us.”
“What? I’m not–”
“He’s probably right, boss,” said Diana grimly.
Peter sighed. “Fine.” He pulled out his phone and took out the battery again before turning to Diana “Give me your too.”
“We need to change the car,” said Neal softly once Peter was done with the phones.
“Are you crazy? We’re not stealing someone’s car!” exclaimed Peter.
Neal flinched.
“We can’t drive all the way to New York, Suit,” opposed Mozzie. “For that matter, we can’t drive anywhere. The CIA has our description. If they find us–”
“I have a friend who’s waiting for us nearby,” said Diana suddenly.
“The ‘precautions’ you spoke about?” asked Peter.
Diana nodded.
“Who’s this ‘friend’?” asked Mozzie skeptically. “Are you absolutely sure we can trust him?”
“Positive. I’ve known Charlie since I was a kid. He never let me down before.”
“It will be all right,” said Peter with confidence he didn’t really feel.
Clutching Mozzie’s hand, Neal kept staring forward, his posture stiff and tense, not uttering a single word.
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
* * *
Epilogue - On LJ | On DW
Author:
sheenianniArtist:
aragarnaFandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
___________________________________
PART VI
Although Peter was confident in his plan, he was aware that there were too many variables to predict an exact outcome. Given that the CIA was involved, he knew better than to go in without backup.
“You called, boss?” asked Diana when she entered his office.
Peter gave her a nod. “Diana. Shut the door, please.”
Closing the door, Diana picked up a chair and sat down opposite Peter. “It’s about Caffrey, isn’t it?”
Peter gaped at her. “Have I really become that predictable?”
“You have a face when it comes to him,” said Diana with a smile. “What’s going on, then?”
Peter took a deep breath. “I’m going to call Agent Greeves again.”
“I thought they weren’t taking your calls. What makes you think he’ll talk to you now?”
“That’s right, they’ve always had someone run interference. But not anymore.” Peter paused. “I’m going to tell them that I discovered Neal has an accomplice named Paul Handerson.”
Diana whistled. “That should get their attention – at least provided that ‘Paul’ isn’t lying.”
“Precisely. I want you to be there when I call them and listen with me. I need a second opinion on their reaction.”
“You’re killing two birds with one stone,” said Diana in realization. “If Handerson is lying–”
“Then we’ll know, and Handerson’s probably covering for Neal, in which case we’ll arrest him for obstruction of justice,” said Peter grimly. “But if he’s telling the truth, this should be enough to get us a meeting with the CIA. If we play this right, we’ll then get some grounds for launching a proper investigation.”
Diana nodded. “It’s a good plan.”
“If Mozzie’s right, by the time we get something, it might be too late.” If the CIA had Neal.…
“Peter. You’re doing all you can.”
“What if that’s not enough?”
“It will be…. Make the call, boss.”
For a moment, Peter just stared into her eyes. Then he took out his phone, put it on speaker and dialed Greeves’s number. “This is Special Agent Peter Burke, FBI. I need to talk to Agent Greeves.”
“Mr. Burke–”
“Agent.”
“Agent Burke, Agent Greeves is very busy at the moment.”
“I understand. Just tell him that I wanted him to know that I identified one of Neal Caffrey’s accomplices as a scientist by the name of Paul Handerson.”
A pause. “I’ll speak to him right away.”
Peter exchanged a glance with Diana. It looked like they were going to see some results.
“So, you ready?”
Mozzie swallowed. “No…. Yes. I guess. As ready as I’m likely to be.”
Sally shook her head. “Given that you skipped on me, I think I should be enjoying this more.”
“I told you, I just didn’t want to–”
“You used me, Mozzie. I said I was going to help, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with you leaving in the middle of the day without even a word of goodbye.”
Ouch.
Mozzie had known that Sally would be pissed off that he had just taken off without talking to her, but he should have realized that she would be genuinely hurt by his actions. He had screwed up.
“I’m sorry, Sally. I–”
She shook her head. “This isn’t the time, Moz.”
“Right.” Neal needed them. Nothing else mattered right now. He cleared his throat. “So, how do I look?”
Scrunching her nose, Sally gave him a scrutinizing look. “Different. Kind of official … in a stick-in-the-mud way.”
“Great,” said Mozzie dryly. “So, if this goes south–”
“ – I’m not coming to bail you out,” finished Sally.
“Great. Okay, let’s do this.”
“Wait! We forgot the photo,” exclaimed Sally suddenly.
“Shit. You’re right.” With a small sigh, he took off his coat and placed it against the trunk of a nearby car.
He had already made a couple of ID photos before, but they needed a bigger picture for the official site. Even so, Mozzie really didn’t relish doing this inside the FBI garages.
“Could you turn around?” he asked Sally. “I need to change the shirt and tie.…”
“Why? It’s not like I haven’t seen you before,” said Sally sweetly.
“Sally, please, it’s freezing here. Can you keep watch?”
She sighed. “Fine.”
“Something tells me you could have easily doctored this on your computer,” said Mozzie while he was unbuttoning his shirt with nervous fingers.
“Maybe. What would be the fun in that?”
Mozzie wanted to be upset, but the impulse died when he saw the badly hidden fear behind Sally’s callous expression. She helped him fix his tie, then placed him in front of a white wall just a few feet away from her bicycle and rummaged in her bag for a while before taking out her camera.
“Okay, done,” said Sally after taking a few photos of Mozzie’s face and putting her camera away. “So, how much time do we have? Where’s Burke and Berrigan?”
“Still inside,” replied Mozzie while he quickly changed back to his original clothes. “The Suit is still doing something at his computer. They should be leaving soon though.”
“Okay,” said Sally and ran a quick hand through her hair. “So, that’s Burke’s car, then.”
Mozzie swallowed. “And you’re sure that the cameras….”
Sally patted her smart phone. “All taken care of.”
Well, that was something at least. “For the record, I want it noted that this is a truly horrible idea….”
“It was your idea,” Sally reminded him.
“I know!” Mozzie exclaimed. “That doesn’t mean it’s not horrible.”
Before he lost his nerve, he pulled out an exquisite set of lock picks, courtesy of June (“Byron used to carry these around everywhere during the good old days”) and experimentally took out two of them.
“I can’t believe we’re breaking into a fed’s car,” said Sally.
“Shhhh! Damn it, Sally!”
With shaking hands, Mozzie crouched down and inserted the lock picks into the lock of the trunk.
“What if they take Berrigan’s car?”
“They won’t!” Mozzie hissed back.
“But what if–”
“I need to concentrate, okay?”
It was not working. Mozzie’s hands were sweaty and trembling. He kept constantly glancing over his shoulder, expecting armed FBI agents to suddenly emerge from nowhere and arrest him to the sound of police sirens.
He used to live on the streets, for Christ’s sake! He had easily picked the training locks that Neal had given him at the hotel a few weeks ago, and now Peter was talking to Berrigan about something, and why was this not working–
“Let me see it,” said Sally suddenly.
Mozzie snapped. “If you think you can do a better job–”
She pushed away the lock pick set he tried to thrust into her hands. Instead, she gave the trunk a long look before bending slightly and pushing the opening button. She then pulled up, nearly effortlessly opening the trunk while Mozzie’s jaw dropped. “It’s not locked.”
“Oh.”
He should have known that himself.
Mozzie cleared his throat. “I didn’t–”
“Get in, Mozzie.”
She squeezed his hand as he squeezed himself into the trunk. Once he was sitting inside, Mozzie put on a pair of gloves before curling on the bottom of trunk. They gave each other a long look. “Sally–”
“Be safe, okay?”
Mozzie gulped. “Close it, please.”
‘Neal, I’m coming.’
Then Sally smashed the door down and Mozzie’s world plunged into darkness.
As it turned out, Peter’s bluff had worked perfectly. Within minutes of his call, he had Greeves on the phone despite all of their previous claims that the agent wasn’t available. What was more, before Peter even had the chance to suggest talking face to face, Greeves had already proposed a meeting – on the afternoon of the same day, on the side of an old road in the middle of nowhere, two hours away from New York City.
Peter and Diana exchanged a glance. The CIA was spooked all right. It looked like Mozzie’s information might have been truthful after all.
They spent the morning and early afternoon working on other cases, before Peter went to inform Hughes that he and Diana were going to check a lead on the Caffrey case. Hughes gave him a grave nod and told them to be careful, not even bothering with voicing his objections. At three o’clock in the afternoon, Diana and Peter went to Peter’s car. While Peter started the Taurus, Diana typed in the coordinates. They would be there in a bit under three hours.
Almost running over a cycler on their way out of the garage, Peter swore. He hoped this wasn’t some sort of premonition about how their trip was going to go.
“I spoke to Jones,” said Diana into the silence as Peter drove through the streets of New York.
“Uh-huh?”
“I told him to cancel his plans for tonight, just in case. I also called a family friend and our lawyer to be on call. I thought it might be good to take some precautions in case things turned ugly. I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”
“What?” Peter looked at her in surprise. “Diana….”
“We both know this isn’t just an ordinary case, Peter,” said Diana gravely.
Peter clenched the wheel a bit more tightly. “No, you’re right, it’s not…. Next time, talk to me first.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“Good.”
Despite his surprise, Peter didn’t begrudge Diana her initiative. If things went sideways, it would be good to have some additional backup. And even though it’d been just a few months since Diana had come back from DC, she had been a full-fledged agent for years and Peter trusted her judgment.
He knew he could trust her to have his back.
For the next twenty minutes, they drove mostly in silence.
“So, what are you and Christie planning for the holiday?” asked Peter.
Diana smiled. “Just some quiet time together, in our apartment…. I still don’t have a present for her. Ever since she popped the question, everything I come up with feels so–”
“Ordinary?” Peter suggested.
“Yeah.”
“You’ll figure it out,” said Peter confidently.
“What about you, boss? Any special plans?”
Peter smiled. “No, I guess it’s the same as you, just some quiet time together…. And the best thing is, El’s parents are visiting her sister in Canada, so it will be just the two of us, the whole time–”
“No fathers-in-law trying to psychoanalyze you?”
Peter cleared his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you don’t, Peter,” said Diana teasingly.
Peter blushed lightly, though deep down, he truly was glad that he wouldn’t have to meet Alan Mitchell for another few months. Elizabeth’s father might be a good man, but his stare always gave Peter the creeps. He very much preferred to keep his head to himself.
“So, have you talked to Elizabeth about this ‘road trip’?” asked Diana out of blue.
“No, I….” Peter sighed. “Well, she knows the basics, but I didn’t want her to worry unnecessarily. I should probably call her to say that I’ll be late tonight though….”
“I haven’t told Christie yet either,” Diana confessed. “She really freaked out after the shooting in the Ponder case…. It’s hard sometimes, isn’t it?”
“No kidding,” murmured Peter. “Enough about that. Tell me. How does it feel to be engaged?”
They spent the next forty minutes talking about their loved ones and comparing notes on relationship difficulties, until the conversation ran dry and they once again plunged into silence.
“What do you think we’ll find there once we meet them?” asked Diana a few moments later.
Peter hesitated. “After what Mozzie told me last night, I checked his story. I’m pretty sure he really is Neal’s friend just like he says.”
“So you do trust his version of the events?”
Peter pressed his lips together. “He ran away from his job, he used multiple aliases and he broke into my house. Those aren’t the actions of an innocent man.” Then again, those actions could be chalked to Mozzie’s paranoia, which was actually justified if he was telling the truth. And for better or worse, he was friends with Neal, both by his own admission and by the evidence Peter had found. “Until I hear a better version, I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“I was right. This is as far from ordinary as it can get.”
Peter gave her a grim, tense smile before he focused on the road again.
They should arrive at their destination in about fifty minutes.
They arrived at the meeting point ten minutes before the agreed time.
“It really is in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?” said Diana after she climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut.
Looking around them, Peter had to concede she was right.
Their road had branched away from the highway to lead them into the middle of fields, with a small forest nearby. The brown ground around them was hard and frozen, covered by a thin layer of frost and snow. Pulling his coat closer, Peter looked around and stepped into the middle of the road. He didn’t see anything yet.
Bam.
“What the–”
Peter and Diana exchanged a look.
Bam. BAM!
“It’s coming from the trunk,” said Diana in disbelief.
Suddenly, Peter’s phone started ringing. Almost automatically, he picked it up. “Hello?”
“Would you open your goddamn trunk, Suit?”
“What…. Mozzie?!?”
“Congratulations on your detective skills. By the way, you should fix your release latch. Now would you open the trunk, please?”
Still in a daze, Peter took a step forward and opened the trunk of his car.
There was a man. In his car. In his trunk.
The man turned off a small flashlight and tried to wriggle into a sitting position. “Okay, for the record, this is a really horrible way of traveling. Hi, Peter.”
Peter blinked before doing a double take. His passenger had ginger, visibly balding hair, light brown eyes with some sort of pigmentation defect in the left iris, and broad shoulders – but his expression and voice were very familiar. “Mozzie?”
“No, the Queen of Sheba,” retorted Mozzie when he’d finally gotten on his knees. “Hello. You must be Agent Berrigan. So pleased to meet you!”
“Hi, Mozzie,” said Diana dryly.
Peter finally managed to recover from his shock. “Mozzie! What the hell are you doing here?!”
“Calm down, I’ll tell you. Could you please help me out of the trunk first?”
“Not until I get some answers,” Peter barked angrily. “How did you plan this? No, scratch that. You broke into my car–”
“Yes, I hid in the trunk! Yes, I followed you to your meeting with the CIA, and by the way, if you hadn’t been so adamant before that you were going alone–”
“Oh no, you’re not putting that on me. We agreed that I’m a trained professional. You on the other hand by your own words are just a scientist wanted by the CIA. We had a plan–”
“Actually, you had a plan,” interrupted Mozzie with infuriating calm. “I never agreed to it. Besides, we didn’t know the CIA would be meeting us here. Did you really think I’d stay away when Neal’s life is on the line?”
“You’re going to screw up the operation,” said Peter with quiet fury. “What do you think will happen if the CIA sees you?”
“Nothing. They’re not going to recognize me.”
“Damn it, Mozzie!”
Even Diana almost jumped at Peter’s outburst. But Peter had a hard time controlling his temper.
“You’re putting us all at risk. You’re putting Neal at risk.”
Mozzie climbed out of the car and straightened himself out. “You don’t understand, Suit–”
“We need to get him out of here,” Diana spoke up suddenly.
Peter nodded. “Right.”
“And how do you plan to do that?” asked Mozzie sarcastically. “The CIA will be here any minute. I checked this place on Google maps. There’s nowhere to hide around here….”
“How did you even know about this meeting?” asked Peter.
“Ah. That. Well….” Mozzie blushed. “Remember when I visited you yesterday? You left your jacket over the couch. I kind of may have put a bug there….”
“WHAT?!?”
“Wait, you listened to us talking?!”
“….It’s on the inside of your collar.” Mozzie removed the receiver from his own ear and placed it into Peter’s palm. “You might want to take it off before the CIA gets here–”
“Damn it!”
Almost ripping his coat open, Peter quickly checked the lapel of his suit jacket – and of course, it was right there; a tiny flat oval piece of metal hiding on the left side of its neckline. He tore it out and then threw it on the ground before smashing it with his heel.
“Any other way you’ve been spying on us?” asked Diana with barely suppressed anger.
Mozzie shook his head. “No, I swear–”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Peter. “I don’t care what you were thinking, Handerson. You’re not coming with us to the meeting.”
“You can’t stop me from going! You have to understand–”
“I don’t have to do anything. You’re staying here. I’ll stick you back in the trunk if I have to.”
“You’d let me freeze and suffocate to prove a point?” exclaimed Mozzie. “Great job, Suit!”
“You managed just fine before,” barked Peter harshly. “How can you think even for a minute that they won’t recognize you through that flimsy disguise?”
“They won’t if you corroborate my story,” replied Mozzie.
“What could you possibly–”
“Former FBI Agent Jack Franklin, at your service. Wait … here we go.” Reaching into his coat, Mozzie pulled out an ID with his altered appearance photo and the name Jack Franklin written under it.
Peter plucked the ID out of Mozzie’s hand and turned it over. Had he not known it to be fake, he might have been fooled. “How did you get this? Did Neal make it? … You know this is fraud and identity theft.”
“Great, you can arrest me later. Look–”
“What do you know about Franklin?” asked Diana.
“Not much,” said Mozzie with a shrug. “He’s a former agent. I know he used to be on your team before mysteriously resigning a year ago, couldn’t find out why. I figured he’d be a safe identity to assume.”
Peter and Diana exchanged a look. “OPR discovered that Franklin was having an inappropriate relationship with his female CI – that’s criminal informant,” explained Diana. “Rather than breaking things off, he chose to leave the FBI.”
“Oh.”
“Right. As impressed as I am with your research and your newfound criminal skills, this still won’t work,” said Peter. “There are databases which have photographs, physical descriptions–”
“Boss.” Diana’s tense voice interrupted Peter’s speech. “They’re here.”
Both Peter and Mozzie turned around to see where Diana was looking.
A black car with tinted windows was slowly approaching them on the dirt road.
“What about him?” asked Diana quietly.
Peter shook his head. “It’s too late. They might have seen us already.”
Mozzie cleared his throat. “So, are you going to sell me out now?”
Peter needed to think.
There was no way to tell whether Mozzie’s disguise would fool the CIA. Even if it worked, the fact that the meeting was happening so far away from New York suggested that the CIA would probably take them to one of their bases. Which meant that Peter and Diana would essentially be helping Mozzie break into the CIA facility. Peter didn’t even want to think of the consequences if they got caught. The CIA car was maybe a minute and half away, and Peter still had no tangible proof that Mozzie was telling the truth about his whole story.
“Peter…?” said Mozzie softly, his previous bravado replaced by raw, honest fear.
Peter considered the events of the past few weeks. He thought of Elizabeth, of Hughes’s words, of Neal’s charm and his desperate plea, of people that were being hurt if Mozzie was telling the truth, of being caught and losing his job or worse.
A decision began to form in his mind. However, he also had a responsibility to his team.
“Diana.…”
“Either way, I’m with you, boss.”
Very well.
Peter took a deep breath before looking at Mozzie. “You better pray we find something to lead us to Neal. You’ll tag along, stay quiet, and if you take one step out of line I swear I’ll arrest you when this is over…. Welcome aboard, ‘Franklin’.”
A moment of silence.
“Thanks, Peter,” said Mozzie quietly.
“This is going to be interesting,” said Diana with a tense smirk.
The CIA car was almost there. Staring forward, Peter subconsciously straightened his coat and checked his watch.
“Oh, by the way,” said Mozzie suddenly, “former agent Franklin suffers from recurring asthma. I thought you should know that.”
“Wait, what do you mean? What asthma?”
But before Peter could get an answer to his question, the arriving car already stopped. Wondering how many more surprises were still waiting for him, Peter hoped he hadn’t just made a serious mistake.
“Agent Burke. I didn’t know there would be company.”
“Agent Greeves. Good afternoon.”
Facing the CIA agents, Mozzie briefly flashed to a moment some eight years ago, with a younger Neal sitting on his couch, fooling with his hat and explaining the concept of making up identities. ‘You can’t fake it if you force it. Embrace it. It’s still you, just … different. Stick as close to the truth as possible.’
If Mozzie wasn’t almost trembling with terror, he might actually appreciate the advice. Instead, he focused on keeping his back straight. He thought of the way he carried himself while supervising a class during a written exam, or the way he projected authority when facing a meeting with the financial department. He could do this.
Greeves’s stare felt like it was burning right through him. “I already know Agent Berrigan, but who are you, Mr…?”
“Jack Franklin,” supplied Peter when Mozzie’s throat tightened. “He’s a former member of the White Collar division.”
He had to say something. “It’s good to be in the field again,” said Mozzie after miraculously finding his voice.
Greeves looked sharply at both Peter and Mozzie. “Former member?”
“I left for personal reasons,” said Mozzie.
Greeves frowned. “That’s always a cover for another story.”
“I trust Jack Franklin implicitly,” inserted Peter fluently. “Now, if you stop questioning the members of my team, we could talk about why we’re here?”
“Fine.” Greeves made a pause. “There’s a facility twenty minutes away by car. You’ll have to be blindfolded during the ride.”
“What?” exclaimed Peter.
Berrigan glared. “We took a two-hour journey coming here, and now you’re going to play games with us?!”
“Agent Brett will drive your car,” motioned Greeves to the other CIA person accompanying him. “You’ll also have to surrender your phones. Of course, if you prefer to talk out here….”
“No, of course not,” exclaimed Mozzie jovially, trying to hide his panic. He’d never find where they were holding Neal if the CIA didn’t take them there. “Relax, everyone. Uh, I mean, look at this weather. Does anyone really want to stand around in this chill?”
Peter frowned. “Jack–”
“Is this how the CIA views cooperation?” asked Diana flatly. “Because it sure as hell seems like you’ve been doing your best to cut us out of this investigation.”
“Diana–”
“No, boss. They flat out refused to share any information with us and ignored all your attempts to communicate with them until we came up with new intel. That’s not how you treat an ally, and I’m done putting up with it.”
“You’re right,” said Peter after a short pause. He looked back at Greeves. “We’re done with this. Either show us some good will, or we will continue investigating this case on our own just like before. It’s your choice, Greeves.”
Greeves looked like he had swallowed a lemon. Mozzie had to admit that he was impressed. He tried to mirror Peter and Diana’s postures and look determinedly imposing.
“You’re aware that revealing the location of the base to anyone without authorization equals treason,” said Greeves at last.
“You told us to drive all the way here from New York,” Peter pointed out. “There were plenty of other possibilities if you had simply wanted to meet at a remote location. You planned on taking us to the facility; don’t deny it.”
Silence.
“A compromise, then,” said Greeves at last. “You’ll turn off your phones so the location can’t be tracked later. I’ll also drive with you and give you directions.”
Peter and Diana exchanged a look. Mozzie was surprised when Peter turned to him. “What do you think, Franklin?”
Mozzie cleared his throat. “I think it’s acceptable.”
“I agree,” said Peter. Berrigan just gave a nod.
“So it’s agreed,” said Greeves.
They were going to see the CIA base.
His disguise was the combined effort of June and Hale, while Sally had sworn that she had done her best with the online side of things, making Mozzie’s alias as foolproof as possible. Yet despite all their effort, Mozzie had still half-expected to be recognized on the spot when the CIA agents saw him. Of course, it was entirely possible that they knew who he was and were just putting on an act, luring him into a false state of security until he willingly walked deep into their territory.
Would they let Neal go if they had him? Somehow, Mozzie doubted it. But he couldn’t leave Neal in CIA’s clutches anymore, even if chances of success were slim at best.
Riding in the trunk before had been horrible and terrifying, but the current situation was even more bizarre. He was sitting next to Agent Berrigan, whose loyalty was fully to the Suit and who would probably turn on him the moment Peter Burke said a word. In the front seat, Greeves continued telling Peter the directions, and even as Mozzie hid his emotions behind a blank mask, his fear was slowly being replaced by cold rage and determination. Was Greeves the mastermind behind “Project Lethe”, the force that had stolen Mozzie’s research and driven him out of his home, or was he just a foot soldier in the CIA conspiracy? Was he responsible for Neal’s capture? Finally, there was Peter Burke himself. The agent was driving the car with an unreadable expression, and Mozzie couldn’t help but wonder what Peter was getting out of this. Earlier, he had been eager and desperate enough to accept any kind of help, but he was enough of a realist to know that nobody would risk this much out of pure altruism. No, the Suit had to want something. If it was within his powers, Mozzie would give it to him, as long as they got Neal back to safety and away from the CIA.
Suddenly, the road took a turn, and then a clearing opened in front of them, revealing a flat building surrounded by a tall electric fence. As per Greeves’ instructions, Peter drove them to a tall metal gate, which opened when Greeves stepped out of the car and swiped a card against it. Once they were inside, Peter parked the car in a free area next to several other vehicles. Mozzie’s adrenaline spiked when he realized that they had successfully gotten inside the lion’s den. Then the gate closed behind them with a loud creak, cutting off their only escape route.
Mozzie’s throat tightened. He glanced at Peter and Diana, both of whom looked completely calm while they climbed out of the car. Reminding himself that this was about Neal, Mozzie tried to keep his breathing even. Even if he had wanted to back out now, he had no choice but to see this through.
Going through his pockets, Mozzie palmed a pill which he had hidden there earlier, and then quickly swallowed it when the others weren’t watching him. Suppressing the trembling in his hand, he then opened the car door and joined the FBI and CIA agents.
The die was cast. Now he just had to hope that Peter and Berrigan were actually on his side.
As they entered the facility, Greeves had them patted down and walked them through a scanner. When the CIA agents asked Peter to take off his shoulder holster and his backup weapon, he felt almost naked. Even if Mozzie wasn’t there as the proverbial wild card, he and Diana were essentially undercover with no proper backup. Therefore, Peter was incredibly relieved when he received both of his guns back just a few moments later. By the look on Diana’s face, he was pretty sure that she felt the same way.
At last, Greeves seemed content with the results of the ‘inspection’. He handed them three “Visitor” cards with their names printed on them. “Take these and follow me.”
“So, where exactly are we going?” asked Peter curiously.
“There’s a meeting room nearby–”
“Fuck!”
Greeves, Peter and Diana all stopped and turned around.
Mozzie was half-bent over, clutching at his chest. His breathing was short and his face was white and sweaty.
Diana frowned. “Franklin, are you all right?”
Mozzie wheezed. With one hand against his throat, his other hand was desperately searching for something in his pocket.
For a second, Peter didn’t know what was happening. Then Mozzie’s words came back to him. Former agent Franklin suffers from recurring asthma.
“Damn it,” he exclaimed just as Mozzie pulled out his inhaler. He took it out of Mozzie’s trembling fingers, removed the cap and shook it. And it was a good thing he knew what to do from one of El’s nieces. “Let me help.”
Greeves looked at them sharply. “Burke…?”
“Franklin’s an asthmatic,” Diana lied fluently while Peter helped Mozzie take the first breath from the inhaler. “When his condition worsened, it was one of the reasons why he left the FBI.”
“I hate this,” gasped Mozzie in between short breaths.
“Hey, deep breaths. Settle down,” said Peter gently, even as his brain was working feverishly. What the hell was Mozzie doing? Was it a real asthma attack? Was it an act? Damn it! This wouldn’t be happening if he hadn’t decided to do his own thing and join them at the last moment! Was Mozzie going off script again, or did he have a genuine medical condition? Even if it was an act, Peter couldn’t break Mozzie’s cover now.
He swallowed down his anger and projected concern that was only half faked. “Is there some place where he could sit down? Do you have an infirmary around here?”
Greeves frowned. “I don’t think–”
Mozzie dissolved into another coughing fit.
“The infirmary!” barked Diana. “Which way is it, Greeves?”
“All right!” exclaimed Greeves before frowning again. “Agent Brett can take him there….”
“I’m coming with you. I’m not leaving a member of my team,” snapped Peter, still trying to keep Mozzie from keeling over.
“Don’t,” coughed Mozzie. “Go on, Peter…. I’ll be fine….”
“Jack, you’re barely standing,” protested Peter.
“You act as if I was dying.” Mozzie took another breath from the inhaler before speaking again. “Forget about me. I just need to sit down for a while….”
Peter frowned. “I don’t like this. Are you sure–”
“Just go, focus on the case,” wheezed Mozzie again.
Peter and Diana exchanged an uncertain look.
Then Peter looked into Mozzie’s eyes, and suddenly he knew.
The other man had some sort of a plan. Unfortunately, since Mozzie hadn’t confided in him, there was no way to tell if it was good or if it was going to be a complete disaster. Hell, Peter wasn’t even completely sure what Mozzie’s objective was–
Neal. Of course this was about Neal. The whole picture suddenly revealed itself so clearly, Peter wondered how he hadn’t seen it sooner.
Their plan had been to go in to gather evidence. Since Peter and Diana’s hands were tied, Mozzie was hoping to get separated from them and from the CIA to look for information on his own. Peter was now almost certain that the scientist was somehow faking his symptoms. Unless….
The CIA only had a handful of facilities in the whole United States. On the off-chance that Neal was actually being held here, they’d need to explore the base more closely … which was not going to happen while they had the CIA agents looking over their shoulders. Suddenly Greeves’s unwillingness to cooperate looked far more ominous than before.
They’d have him in a holding cell of some sort…. Unless they had hurt him. Unless….
Peter’s breath caught in his throat as the final piece finally fell in place. If Mozzie’s hunch was correct….
Was it even wise to split up? But they might not get another opportunity.
Okay.
Peter squeezed Mozzie’s arm. “Okay Jack, but I won’t rest unless I’m sure you won’t get worse again.” He glanced at Greeves. “Could someone take him to the infirmary, just in case? I’d really feel calmer if someone checked him over….”
Greeves and Brett exchanged a look. “I’ll take him there,” said Brett at last.
Mozzie breathed another puff from his inhaler before allowing the CIA agent to support him. Then Peter, Diana and Greeves watched them hobble in another direction before they disappeared around the corner. Then Greeves looked at Peter. “Out of curiosity, why did you even bring Franklin with you?”
“It’s the Christmas season,” said Diana. “We’re understaffed.”
“Jack Franklin was a good agent . It’s a damn shame that he had to leave the FBI,” said Peter with a bit of bitterness. “He still consults with us from time to time, and he knows the Caffrey case just as well as the rest of my team.”
“I understand.”
Normally, Peter would have bristled at Greeves’s derisive tone, but now he had more important things to deal with.
For better or worse, Mozzie was now on his own to do whatever was needed. It was up to Peter and Diana to buy him enough time.
Peter cleared his throat. “So, is there a place where we can talk?”
After learning that Peter and Diana would be meeting with the CIA, Mozzie had had a little under seven hours to plan the finer details of the whole encounter. Though he had been considering the eventuality for a while, it had still been a lot of work to do on such a tight schedule. Luckily, when he decided to fake the asthma attack, he only had to think of the university’s pharmacology lessons before choosing the right drug for the job. Sometimes it really paid to have an eidetic memory.
By the time he and his CIA chaperone arrived at the infirmary, Mozzie was pale, tired and wheezing, but still possessing his full mental capacity. A doctor glanced at them before raising his eyebrows in surprise. “Agent Brett. Who’s your companion…? Is that an allergic reaction?”
“Asthma attack,” replied the agent stiffly. “And he’s one of the FBI visitors.”
“I see….. Sit him down,” said the doctor.
They guided Mozzie to a bed.
“Let’s get him some oxygen,” said the doctor while Mozzie’s eyes subtly scanned their surroundings. “How long has he been like this?”
“About ten minutes,” replied Mozzie hoarsely before suffering another coughing fit.
“Okay. What’s your regular medication, sir?” asked the doctor. He had Mozzie take another breath from his inhaler before giving him an oxygen mask. Slowly, Mozzie began telling the doc all his fake medical history.
When the doctor started questioning Mozzie about possible contraindication for corticosteroids, the CIA agent’s patience finally ran out. “Do I have to be here for this?” asked Brett in obvious boredom.
The doctor just shook his head. “No, I got this.”
“Wonderful. Call me when you’re done.” With barely hidden disgust, Brett gave Mozzie one last glance before walking out and closing the door behind himself.
“All right, let me set up the IV,” said the doctor after they become alone. He stood up from the chair next to Mozzie’s bed and went to a nearby table with a computer. As the man turned around and opened one of the lower drawers, Mozzie knew he wouldn’t get a better opportunity.
Still holding the breathing mask, he quietly pulled out a regular-looking pen from his pocket. Then he aimed the pen at the doctor, silently recited a quick prayer and pressed the top.
“Huh.”
The tiny hidden dart flew five meters across the room before hitting the doc in the neck just as he started to turn around. The doctor didn’t even realize what had happened as he tumbled to the ground, unconscious. Even if he had practiced this regularly, Mozzie couldn’t have landed a better shot.
Staring at the body on the ground, Mozzie shook his head in awe. He had always loved weird gadgets and thingies, but honestly he had never expected them to work.
“This is so cool!”
He took one more breath from the oxygen mask before standing up and going to check on the doctor. Once he was certain the man was deeply asleep, Mozzie pulled out the dart and buried it in the nearby trash can.
Still having trouble breathing, he rummaged through several drawers before finding an EpiPen. He quickly gave himself the shot and then waited for a few moments until his breathing got back to normal. Time to get to work.
Although the CIA had searched them, Mozzie had been able to sneak in several interesting toys. The dart shooting pen was perhaps the most impressive, but there were other items that would come in handy – and that would have definitely raised strong suspicions had the CIA discovered them for what they really were.
First, Mozzie had to take care of the live feed that was watching the infirmary. It was a huge stroke of luck that the computer area wasn’t covered by the camera, which meant that nobody had seen him take out the doctor or what he was about to do now. Mozzie removed his cufflinks and then put them together, creating a working flash drive. He placed it in the computer, which was already turned on … and then turned his attention to his immediate surroundings while he waited for Sally’s virus to do its magic.
With the virtual site firmly in hands of his hacker friend, Mozzie focused on the physical reality. He knew he didn’t have much time – the sedating serum he had used on the doctor would work for an hour at most, but Brett might return even sooner than that. Pulling out a lock pick disguised as a tie clip, Mozzie quickly opened the drawer of the table, finding a phone, some pens and –
There was a file.
Quickly opening it, Mozzie started scanning through the information. When he realized what he was holding, he drew in a sharp breath and his hands began shaking.
Subject: 894NC
Description: Caucasian male (31), 5 ft 11¾ in, 172 lb. In good physical shape, no known medical conditions
Project results overview:
Sessions 1-3 – Subject has been resistant to imprinting techniques. Despite previous use of interrogation techniques, subject has fought against direct suggestions.
Sessions 4-5 – Using additional stimulation of brain’s pain centers, subject experienced severe confusion and disconnection from reality. Subject resisted questioning and imprinting techniques. Repeated application of pain stimuli led to severe seizures. Current course of action had been temporarily abandoned.
Session 6-7 – Subject slowly losing resistance to imprinting, not very secure in his identity. Subtle misdirection is more efficient than brute force.
Session 8 – Subject blames himself for betraying his friend, very defensive of his friend. Subject’s sense of guilt makes him significantly more susceptible to subtle influence.
Mercifully, the so-called overview ended there. The file then continued on in a more in-depth description, but Mozzie had had enough. He shut the file and tried to stop himself from puking.
He had proof. It wasn’t much, but it was something tangible. If he could take it away with him–
He’d never get past the scanner and pat down.
Mozzie shook his head. Evidence could wait. Right now, his first priority had to be Neal.
He thought he had recognized a stethoscope in the background of the photo Neal had sent him; therefore, had bet on Neal being held near the infirmary. In case he was wrong, Sally was furiously searching through the CIA database, but Mozzie knew getting around the base would be extremely difficult.
He glanced back at the computer. It looked like Sally had already taken control from afar. For a moment, a chat window had appeared on the screen. Sally informed him that she had put the camera signal in the infirmary and the surrounding rooms on a loop.
Mozzie leaned forward and began typing. ‘Can you get me the camera view from the surrounding rooms?’
For a few moments, there was no answer. Then the screen blinked before suddenly nine small rectangles appeared on it, each showing the view from a particular camera.
Mozzie’s breath got caught in his throat when he recognized the small figure in the middle right rectangle. Neal.
“Where? Sally, where is that?” Oh right, she couldn’t hear him.
Mozzie pulled the keyboard closer. ‘Where is middle-right?’ He pressed Enter.
To his dismay, nothing happened.
Mozzie tried typing the message again and then clicked uselessly on the mouse, but he could only watch the mini-screens with the various camera views. It soon became clear that he had lost control over the computer. Damn it!
Never mind. Neal had to be somewhere near, so Mozzie was going to find him.
With Sally poking around the system and searching though the CIA database, Mozzie plucked out his flash drive and rearranged his “cufflinks” before glancing around. He was about to leave when he paused. He had already seen the closet on the other side of the room … except if it was just a closet, then why was there a reader for a chip card instead of a common lock?
Incredulously, Mozzie approached the closet. Could it really be that simple…?
The door was closed. Swallowing his unease, Mozzie walked back to the doctor’s body on the ground and quickly searched him before finding his ID card. Pulling it off his neck, Mozzie then returned to the closet and pressed the card against the reader. The door opened with an almost inaudible croak.
Mozzie stepped inside and then froze. “Neal…?”
They had to stall.
When Peter had planned the meeting, he had thought that he would be gathering information on the CIA. He’d considered strategies and approaches, made plans in order to find evidence which would allow him to open a full-scale investigation – and then Mozzie had interfered. Now Peter was in a meeting room with Diana and three CIA agents, desperately trying to buy Mozzie some time and silently praying that they didn’t get caught.
“I first realized the connection between Caffrey and Handerson when I re-read Neal’s prison records,” Peter explained. “For some unknown reason, Handerson had made repeated visits to Caffrey. I think it’s reasonable to assume that they had been working together even before Caffrey’s initial arrest….”
“It looks like Handerson has been using the alias “Mozzie Haversham” for quite a few months. We tied him back to an old heist,” said Diana. “Caffrey might have been the front man with Paul Handerson pulling the strings.”
“This is deeply interesting,” said Greeves with a serious expression. “And you’re saying Handerson is a biologist?”
“Yes, a university teacher. Why?”
Greeves exchanged a deeply troubled look with the other CIA agents. “There’ve been rumors about a new biological weapon secretly being developed by a group of our own scientists. If this Handerson is somehow involved….”
Their concern looked so real that Peter almost, almost believed them. Next to him, Diana stiffened imperceptibly.
But then Peter remembered the events of the past few weeks, and it made no sense.
He couldn’t let them know that he knew.
Mozzie might have been getting evidence and looking for Neal, but Peter had to make sure that they had an escape route available so that they were able to get off the base when they were done. He began retelling another long story, this time about Neal’s history and his general unwillingness to work with a partner.
“So, where do you think this ‘Paul Handerson’ could be hiding?” asked Greeves at last.
Peter shook his head. “No idea. No idea at all.”
This time, he actually saw the glimpse of irritation on Greeves’s face.
Peter struggled to hide his growing contempt for the agent. “My turn. What do you know about Neal Caffrey?”
“Neal…?”
The first glance on his friend’s still form was a stab to the heart. Taking a shaky breath, Mozzie stepped closed, forcing down feelings of revulsion and regret.
Neal was lying on a bed, his eyes closed, looking like he was asleep. However, the seemingly peaceful image was shattered by the restraints tying him to the bed, by the cannula in his arm, but most of all by Neal’s deeply haunted expression that not even sleep could take away.
As in a trance, Mozzie walked closer and picked up one of Neal’s lifeless hands. If he hadn’t developed the procedure, hadn’t called Neal.…
“No, I’m not doing this.” He could lay blame later. For now, he had get them out of there.
Mozzie gently shook Neal’s shoulder. “Neal? Neal, wake up.”
Nothing.
“Neal!”
Still no answer.
Not knowing what had been done to his friend but knowing there was no time to waste, Mozzie pulled away a bit of Neal’s sleeve and pinched him strongly on the inner side of his forearm.
“Ouch!”
Trying to rise, Neal was pulled back by the straps around his chest. Cursing himself, Mozzie immediately began to remove the restraints. “Sorry about that,” he said as his fingers fumbled with the strap buckles. Finally, he helped Neal sit up. “Neal, I thought – I’m so glad that…. I came to get you out of here. I’m so, so sorry it took me this long….”
Mozzie gave Neal a painful grin, but the smile froze on his lips. Looking around, Neal’s eyes were unfocused, as if he didn’t even know where he was.
Mozzie ignored the lump in his throat. “Hey, Neal…. Look at me. It’s me, Paul … Mozzie. I came here for you, okay? Neal–”
Neal jerked, then stared straight into Mozzie’s eyes. For a moment, there was silence. “Moz…?” whispered Neal at last.
“Thank God.” Mozzie blinked away his tears, then lost control and pulled Neal in a rough hug. “Thank God….”
OUCH!
Mozzie gasped, clutching at his side. Belatedly, he realized Neal had punched him. He reflexively glared before he saw the expression of utter horror on his friend’s face.
“I- I’m so sorry….” Neal swallowed. “W-what are you doing here? No….”
Mozzie just shrugged. “Ah, don’t worry–”
“No. Oh, please, no.”
“Neal–”
“Y-you’re not supposed to be here. You can’t be here! You can’t– how did they find you?”
“It’s okay–”
“Oh God, what have I done? I must have told them…. Moz, I swear, I didn’t mean to–”
“Neal, calm down. Neal!” Mozzie took a deep breath. “You didn’t tell them. Listen to me, you didn’t tell them. I came on my own.”
“You…. They didn’t catch you?”
Mozzie shook his head. “I came to get you. I got into the base, faked an asthma attack, then knocked out the doctor – it’s a long story. Peter and Diana Berrigan helped me–”
“Peter?” asked Neal hoarsely.
“The Suit’s here too. I found him, just like you told me, remember?”
“You – you figured it out?”
“Of course I did,” exclaimed Mozzie with fake cheer. “Did you have any doubts?”
“No,” replied Neal with a shy smile. “I – Moz….”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Mozzie. Then he glanced at his wristwatch and turned grim. “Listen, we need to get out of here. Do you think you can walk?”
“I…. probably.” Neal took a deep breath before pushing his feet across the side of the bed.
“Great. Okay. We can do this.” Mozzie took a deep breath. “Okay, so Sally’s looking for a way out. I’m going to get you some clothes – oh! I forgot.” He took off his left shoe and began messing with the sole, until he revealed a small compartment and pulled out a tiny round capsule. “Here they are; colored eye contacts. I got plain hazel for you – I hope they’re the right size; Hale’s friend had to guess from your photo. Then there’s this….” He pulled a fake beard out of the secret pocket of his suit. “It’s ugly, but it’s distinctively not you, so…. I wanted to get you glasses too, but I feared they wouldn’t get through a scanner. Oh, by the way, we owe June a small fortune … most of our money was at the apartment when the FBI found you, and I had to pay for a lot of stuff…. ”
Putting all the trinkets on the bed, Mozzie tried to remember if there was anything else. He decided not to worry about how stiffly Neal was sitting, very obviously not touching any of the things Mozzie had just showed him. “Okay, put these on while I get you some better clothes.”
Neal’s eyes widened in fear when Mozzie moved toward the door. “Wait–”
“I’ll be right back,” promised Mozzie soothingly, then hurried towards the door and back into the infirmary.
He checked the computer screen, relieved that he could use the keyboard again. He asked Sally where the nearest storage room was, then told her to look into the less obvious ways out of the building. Somehow, he managed to sneak out, find a storage closet in a nearby corridor and collect a janitorial uniform without being noticed.
When he returned to the infirmary, Mozzie was surprised to find Neal sitting on the chair in front of the computer, hugging himself as he stared at the screen.
“Hey,” said Mozzie.
Startled, Neal stood up, almost knocking over the chair. He stared at Mozzie with visible fear before relaxing just the tiniest bit. “Hey.”
Mozzie gave him an encouraging smile. “I brought you the clothes, see?”
Neal had already put on the fake beard, but he hadn’t yet touched the contacts. When Mozzie offered him the clothes, he stared at it without comprehension for a moment, then finally accepted it and started putting it on. Resisting the urge to stare, Mozzie turned away to give his friend a bit of privacy.
He checked his watch again. It had already been over half an hour since Brett had brought him here, which meant they were running out of time.
“Please…?”
He turned around to find Neal’s hands shaking as he tried to button up his shirt. Neal’s face was filled with shame as he gave Mozzie a pleading look. “Here, let me help,” said Mozzie understandingly. “See? All good. Now, if you can put on the contacts … Neal…?”
Neal clenched his fists and looked away.
Mozzie cleared his throat. “Never mind, we can do this. Look at the ceiling, then at me and try not to blink….”
It took them a few tries, but finally they succeeded in putting the lenses on. With the beard, different eye color and the new clothes, Mozzie finally declared Neal’s disguise passable, though he was still recognizable on a closer look.
Mozzie looked at the screen again. “Okay, it seems Sally has found us a way out. There’s a small door that requires a key card, but Sally says she can circumvent that. We have a car outside–”
“No.”
“What?” asked Mozzie in disbelief. “Neal, we have to go now–”
Neal shook his head. “W-we can’t leave Peter here.”
“Oh.” Damn it, how did he keep forgetting these things?
Before he had seen the state that Neal was in, Mozzie had had a plan to get them all out. Now, he was almost tempted to say screw Burke and Berrigan. Neal was barely keeping it together, and Mozzie was so tired – how was this even his life? He was a scientist, for Christ’s sake; he wasn’t made for this spy and sneaking around stuff. The suits, they were trained agents, they could figure it out. Besides, they worked for the government, and Mozzie didn’t feel very charitable about the authorities right now. And if Burke hadn’t led the CIA to Neal, they wouldn’t even be here in the first place….
They could just leave. With Sally controlling the cameras and Peter still keeping the CIA occupied, nobody would be the wiser. By the time the CIA found out, he and Neal would be long gone, and hopefully Moz would never find out what happened afterwards.…
Mozzie swallowed the bile in his throat. “No. You’re - you’re right. We can’t leave them here.” He took a shaky breath. “They took our phones; I can’t text them. I’m sorry, but … we’ll have to split up.”
Neal gave him a tense nod. “Okay.”
“I’ll wake up the doctor, tell him he fainted or something … then I’ll let Brett take me back to Peter and Diana.… You’ll go on your own. I’m so sorry….”
“It’s okay. I- I can do it.”
Damn it! “Okay,” echoed Mozzie hollowly. “See the map? You do your thing, walk out… we’ll meet at the parking place. Okay?” Please make it to the parking place.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Blinking back tears again, Mozzie squeezed Neal’s shoulder. “You should go first–”
“No.”
“Neal…!” What now? What the hell was wrong now?
Neal swallowed. “T-the doctor. He’ll check if I’m still there….”
Damn it, damn it –
“Okay, you stay there until after I’m gone. Take this,” said Mozzie. “Sally’s still in control of the cameras. You wait until the doctor opens the door, then shoot him.”
Neal looked at the item in his hand. “Your tranq pen?”
“I told you it would come in handy one day.”
Neal nodded. “Thanks, Moz.”
Mozzie swallowed. “Good luck, kid.”
If anything went wrong – this didn’t work–
Mozzie shook his head. It was time to bring this to an end.
“We’ll update you if we find anything new on Caffrey,” said Greeves as he handed Peter his phone back.
“And we’ll do the same,” said Peter with a polite smile.
“Thank you for meeting with us,” said Diana as she too accepted her phone back. Next to them, Mozzie grunted something unrecognizable.
Behind his calm façade, Peter was barely managing to hide his tension. The moment Mozzie and Brett had rejoined them, Mozzie’s body language had told Peter that they had to get out as fast as possible. Thankfully, his conversation with Greeves had been almost over anyway. Peter didn’t know what was going on, but the way Mozzie was acting, it was pretty clear that he really didn’t want to be around to find out.
“Let me see you out of the complex,” said Greeves as he led them out of the building. Next to Peter, Mozzie stiffened and blanched.
It was dark outside when they started walking towards the parking lot.
“I’m really glad we could finally meet,” said Peter casually. “I’m looking forward to cooperating on this case.”
“As am I,” replied Greeves. “Goodbye, Agent Burke. I’ll open and close the gate behind you.” He then went to the gate while Peter, Diana and Mozzie continued to Peter’s Taurus.
They were almost at the car when Peter heard a soft moan. He froze before walking to the other side of the car. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the broken figure lying on the ground. Despite the dusk and the beard on his face, Peter recognized him immediately.
“Shit!”
“Give me the keys, boss. I’m a better driver,” said Diana in a low voice.
Peter nodded. “All right.”
“P-ter….” Neal whispered.
Peter swallowed. “Shhhh. It’s okay…. Come on, buddy….”
By the time Peter and Mozzie dragged Neal in the car and deposited him on the back seat next to Moz, Diana had already adjusted her seat and the mirrors. As she started the car and pulled out, the gate began to open.
Mozzie pushed Neal to the car floor just before Greeves turned around.
“Slow and easy,” muttered Diana as she drove them to the gate.
For a moment, Peter thought he saw a flicker of suspicion in the CIA agent’s face, but then Greeves let them drive through the gate without trouble.
Peter exhaled. “They didn’t see him.”
When they took a turn, the CIA facility disappeared from their sight. Mozzie had just pulled Neal up when they heard a shrill of the alarm coming from the facility.
“Fuck!”
“Looks like they just found out,” said Diana. She then increased the car speed as much as she dared.
“I’m calling Hughes, then you can call your contacts,” said Peter grimly. Diana gave him a wordless nod as she drove them through the woods.
However, as Peter tried to dial Hughes’s number, he realized his phone wasn’t working. “Damn it!”
“Try mine,” offered Diana.
“They might be blocking your phones,” said Mozzie. “They did that to me, before. Besides, we should probably toss them before they track us.”
“What? I’m not–”
“He’s probably right, boss,” said Diana grimly.
Peter sighed. “Fine.” He pulled out his phone and took out the battery again before turning to Diana “Give me your too.”
“We need to change the car,” said Neal softly once Peter was done with the phones.
“Are you crazy? We’re not stealing someone’s car!” exclaimed Peter.
Neal flinched.
“We can’t drive all the way to New York, Suit,” opposed Mozzie. “For that matter, we can’t drive anywhere. The CIA has our description. If they find us–”
“I have a friend who’s waiting for us nearby,” said Diana suddenly.
“The ‘precautions’ you spoke about?” asked Peter.
Diana nodded.
“Who’s this ‘friend’?” asked Mozzie skeptically. “Are you absolutely sure we can trust him?”
“Positive. I’ve known Charlie since I was a kid. He never let me down before.”
“It will be all right,” said Peter with confidence he didn’t really feel.
Clutching Mozzie’s hand, Neal kept staring forward, his posture stiff and tense, not uttering a single word.
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
Epilogue - On LJ | On DW
