Noble Rogues
Ch.1: The Other Thief
It was a con, of course. A long con. Kat and crew had planned it for months, and it was brilliant. It was beautiful, frankly. Neal still appreciated the skill needed in the art of The Life. This was no exception. Mozzie agreed. Alex and Hugh were in town, and they agreed as well. And they hadn't been the culprits. No one knew who had except the perpetrator/s. The thief or thieves, whoever they were, were great thieves, or a great thief, with phenomenal skill. It almost hurt Neal's ego. Instead, it made him wish he was a free man so he could stir the pot himself. This was a party he would have moved to work with.
He couldn't say he recognized the style though. He'd been away too long. Away from the world he thrived in and worked through best. Mozzie was feeling around in that world, asking around, listening to anyone that would talk. Of course, there were intriguing whispers. Whispers and hushed conversations that led to the families. But that was the best Mozzie could get. Their world was a secretive one, after all.
…xxx…
Kat stared in surprise at the second pair of blue eyes before her. They belonged to a petite ginger girl with a light sprinkle of freckles on her fair skin. Her hair was twisted into a bun, her clothes nondescript. She stood on the balls of her feet, her narrowed eyes calculating and cunning, her baby-face sly, as she sized Kat up and vise versa.
"Kat, what's going on in there?" Simon's voice flared in her ear through the earpiece.
"Slight complication," she replied, continuing to watch the other girl. They did not take their eyes off of each other.
Kat felt a presence over her shoulder, and without turning, she knew Hale had slipped inside. He came to stand abreast of her, eyeing the other girl.
"Kat, look at you making friends without me. And who's this?"
The other girl tipped her head sideways.
"So you're the noble thief, the cat burglar turned Robin Hood's daughter," she turned to Hale, "and you must be one of her band of merry men. Or rather, men and women. You know, there's talk about you. It's touching, really."
"And you would be?" Hale persisted.
"That's for me to know and you to find out." She jerked her head at the eighteenth century jewel-encrusted jewelry box in the room. "You win this time. I know when I'm made."
She walked the length of the room, towards the opposite doorway. "Just remember, Kitten, curiosity isn't favorable towards the cat."
And then she was gone. A second later, the alarms went off. Kat swore. Luckily, the security around it was less severe than that of the actual building. Working with Hale, she stayed calm, and they had it free and in their possession in less than half a minute, and then they, too, were gone.
…xxx…
The projector clicked over another slide. "This was the item taken, an eighteenth century jewel-encrusted jewelry box. Now I know that we normally deal with White Collar crimes and this may not seem like one. However, this item is very rare, and the skill it took to execute this heist..."
Neal interrupted Peter. "The skill level is incredible. The plans and methods had to be...brilliant, frankly. Whoever did this is not some petty crook or common criminal. We're looking for someone like, well...me."
Neal shrugged nonchalantly. "Anyway, Mozzie hasn't come up with anything yet."
The lights flickered back on and the screen went dark. The assembled agents began filing out. Peter made his way over to Neal, who had his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. "Did you notice anything in the crime scene photos? Any details?"
"I told you, I don't recognize the style. But this took time," his voice grew animated, one of his hands came up to accompanying his words with gestures, " This was a long con. Not a close quarters one, but for the planning. The detail this had to take...the casing had to be carefully played. The security is some of the best there is. You have your hands full."
"And you're saying you could have done this?" Peter confirmed. "So these would be your kind of people?"
Neal rolled his shoulders and smoothed his hair back. "No Peter, you know I haven't been back down that road."
"Just checking. I trust you Neal. Could you find whoever did this?"
"The thing is, we have a code, Peter, and this looks like it might be one of the best. We don't just-"
"Neal," Peter said seriously, "we need you on this. You and Mozzie. We need your expertise. The culprit or culprits are probably in deep in the world you come from. We need this. There are any number of skilled thieves that could have done this, many faceless. This is top priority. Bigger and bigger heists are going down and we are floundering. I can shave two whole years off if you help me on this. Two years, Neal, think about it."
"Ok, Peter, we'll see where this goes," he gave in quietly. He hated hunting down one of his own if they weren't some scum bag. But being tied down by his ankle for two fewer years was highly appealing.
"Great," Peter said, somewhat relieved.
"I'll need to go check in with Mozzie," Neal told him quietly, hoping he could go alone. He might be turning them in, but he wanted to get close and quench his own curiosity first. "You know how he feels about suits." Peter drug his hand down his face. After a moment, he waved Neal away.
"All right, all right. Go by yourself, but you report back here as soon as you can. No funny business, or the deal's off."
"I know."
He left the office, taking the elevator down and editing the building. He decided to stop by his place to get one of his hats. He pushed the door open, only to find Mozzie perusing his wine selection once more.
"I'm not going to have any left if you keep coming by here," he remarked as he picked up a fedora and tilted it on his head.
"Well, your wine is better than mine. But this is a bit bitter," the shorter man noted, wafting the wine under his nose before taking another sip.
"So have you heard anything new? About the new talent in town?" Neal asked as he uncorked the bottle and poured some for himself, sitting across from his friend. Mozzie set his glass down, tracing the rim.
"Word is that it has something to do with one of the old families." Neal sat forward. "You mean..?"
"One of the ones that's been at the art for centuries, passing on the family trade? Yes. And you know as well as any of us that no one messes with the families. It's like holding onto a grenade and hoping it won't blow you to bits." He took another sip. "Rumor also has it that there was competition for the box. Two thieves got there at the same time, but the thief with a crew-the one from one of the families- won out."
"How did you get this intel?" Neal swished his wine around.
"Corbin Hendricks. You know he sits down at quite a few hearths. Hears things."
"And whose hearth has he been sitting at lately?"
"You know Corbin; he doesn't kiss and tell."
"Do you know if any of the families are in town?"
"No one's just going to give up information like that easily," Mozzie replied evasively.
"Come on, Moz," Neal urged, "if anyone knows something, you do." Mozzie took a rather large gulp of his remaining wine, setting the glass down with finality and leaning back in the chair. Finally, he said,"Do you remember Old Eddie and the Brownstone?"
…xxx…
"So do you know of her?" Kat posed as Uncle Eddie set a bowl of soup down in front of her before moving on to serve the others. "Does she sound familiar?"
"No," said Eddie gruffly. "But she sounds like trouble."
"No kidding," Gabrielle muttered, "She let us snag the goods but nearly got us caught."
"Blimey," Angus breathed.
"Thought we'd get to blow something," Hamish admitted dejectedly.
"I honestly wouldn't put it past her to come after it," Hale commented seriously over the edge of his mug, "She had that look about her."
Simon pushed his glasses further up his nose. "It was a close call."
"Too close," Nick commented. "I don't like it."
Uncle Eddie suddenly spoke up sharply. "If you're going to come in, do so. There'll be no hovering here."
He glanced just as sharply at the shadowed hallway. There was a low chuckle, and a new voice said,"Are we interrupting something?"
"Only our family meal," Nick said pointedly.
"State your business," Eddie said firmly, staring hard at the same general area as before.
A nervous looking man stepped forward. He wore glasses, a messenger bag slung over one shoulder, and had hair only around the rim of his head. Uncle Eddie relaxed slightly, but his eyes remained narrowed. "Mozzie," he said slowly. "I remember you from the old days. Who've you brought with you into my home." 'Who have you exposed my family to?' Silently rang through the air accusingly.
Another man emerged, the seeming complete opposite: confident and at home, stepping easily into the light as if he owned the brownstone. Hale tensed. The man was young, tall, and attractive, a fedora tilted cockily over almost-curly waves of neatly groomed brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. "We apologize," he said winningly, smiling. His hands were in his pockets. He had been the one to initiate the conversation. Uncle Eddie squinted, then tensed and grew grim.
"Neal Caffrey. Once a great thief, now a suit pet leashed at the ankle. How dare you, how dare you."
Neal held his hands up in surrender. "You wound me. Can't I be nostalgic and miss the Old World? Can I not wish to see a few familiar faces?" His tone was set to charm, his youthful face almost pleading. He had a playful air about him, and a nonchalant cheerfulness.
"Your reputation is questionable now," said Eddie bluntly, moving to stand at the head of the table, all the while watchful of Neal as if might be an assassin. In a manner of speaking and by the sound of things, he might have very well been. He knew he had to play his cards right. These people didn't trust easily. There was an honor and code among thieves and people like them. The problem was that that all evaporated when you had to dabble at putting away some of your own to get your own chains broken. Every member of Kat's circle had their ears tuned, listening tensely. How much had the newcomers overheard? It was a dangerous gamble for both sides.
"None of these would be familiar to you at the moment, and you would do well to forget you saw them if you have." Uncle Eddie was all business, all harsh edges and hardness. Neal stepped further into the room.
"Well perhaps I can make a few friends," he pursued lightly. Mozzie pursed his lips and stationed himself to the corner awkwardly. Something was off, he could tell. Eddie new about Neal, yes, but something didn't feel right. In all his years, he knew no one acted like that unless they were protecting someone big time. Added with their talk...
"Can't be," he mumbled. Neal turned to him questioningly. "What was that, Moz?"
"We need to leave, now."
"Now you make some sense," Eddie said. Neal started to protest, but Mozzie grabbed him and practically drug him from the room and down the block into an alley.
"What was all of that about?" Neal said. "He was on the hot seat."
"Yes, exactly, Neal. What did all of that tell you?"
"That the kids know the crew? I dunno, Moz, you tell me." Mozzie stepped forward, hands outstretched helplessly.
"Neal, the kids are the Crew."
For the first time in his life, Neal felt a few very strange things at once. He felt like an idiot, a traitor, completely screwed, and his life slipping away through his fingers.
