Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar or anything related to it. Except the DVDs.
Author's Note: So I wrote this a while ago for my 'Kidnapping' square in HC Bingo, and then it just languished on my hard drive. And then I realized the season begins in a day, so… Here it is.
Summary: Who took Neal Caffrey? A little bit of speculation. Spoilers through to the end of Season 5.
Who Took Neal Caffrey?
At any rate the anklet's off.
That's the bright side.
The not-so-bright side is that Neal is stuck in a room four feet by four feet with nothing to amuse himself with but the chair he's currently sitting in. And the cracks in the tiles of the floor, it's important not to forget those.
But seriously. Nothing. The walls are a depressing dirty yellow that remind him of prison and the door is the same colour. No keyhole. There's a deadbolt on the other side.
No escape and no amusement. Would it have killed them to leave him a couple of Sharpies? At least he could have improved the décor a little. The walls could use something to break their miserable custard-coloured monotony.
What Neal does have is time to think.
He has no idea who's got him. The guy who grabbed him was probably a hired gun. One of the less desirable results of Neal's life of crime, along with the anklet, is that he's made enemies. There are plenty of people with blank spots on their walls or piles of worthless bonds in their vaults who wouldn't want the embarrassment and bad publicity of going to the police but wouldn't be above dispensing a little vigilante justice on their own account.
For the most part, Neal's been left alone. A young man brought a sandwich on a paper plate and a Styrofoam cup of coffee, stood over Neal until he choked both down, and took the trash away.
Miserable instant coffee in a Styrofoam cup. As soon as Neal gets out of here, he's going to brew himself an Italian roast.
Other than the young man, nobody's come to talk to him. Neal doesn't know if that's good or bad.
He hopes somebody is looking for him. Peter might believe he's just slipped the anklet, but Mozzie'll know better. He'll probably persuade Peter to look –
But where can Peter look? Whoever took him ditched his cell phone and the anklet. If he had any sense, he put them in the bed of a moving truck headed for Seattle. Neal has no idea where he is or who's behind this. It was men who took him, but it could be a woman paying them.
For all Neal knows, it could be Bigfoot paying them – and wouldn't that make Moz happy?
Neal has a brief vision of Peter taking Bigfoot out with a tranq gun and Mozzie saying, "I told you so," for the next eleven thousand years. It makes his lips quirk into something almost like a smile.
Then Neal keeps smiling, because not smiling means giving up. Neal isn't giving up. This isn't exactly a good situation, but Neal's been chased through the streets of Prague by an angry ex-KGB agent and he got out of that alive.
There has to be a way.
There has to be a clue. How can there be nothing? He has enemies, yes, but they all want something from him. When he was first brought to this cell Neal expected an interrogation, sodium pentothal, or punches and broken bones, depending on exactly how long his kidnapper had been brooding about his losses.
What good is this? Who could possibly want to kidnap him just to keep him in a room and feed him stale ham sandwiches and coffee that tastes like dishwater?
Who could –
Oh.
Neal's eyes widen.
Of course.
He knows – or at least he has a very good idea – who's behind this. But it doesn't make him feel any better, because if he's right, his kidnapper is a genius at staying one step ahead of the law, maybe even more of a genius than Neal himself.
After all, Neal got caught.
And now he needs to get out.
But his captor is clearly smart enough to know that the best way to keep Neal Caffrey trapped is an old-fashioned cell with four walls, no windows, and one heavy door with a deadbolt on the outside. Neal's got nothing to work with. Sure, he can try to jump the kid who brings him food, but that's not going to get them very far.
Neal is trapped.
Even as he's thinking it, he hears the bolt being drawn back.
He tenses.
He doesn't harbor the illusion that he can fight his way out of this. But if he's prepared, and if there's a chance, even a tiny chance to make a run for it…
The door opens.
Neal isn't even surprised to see the man on the other side of it.
"James."
James Bennett smiles. "So I'm not Dad anymore?"
"You stopped being my Dad the day you killed a man and let an innocent person take the blame for it."
"It's a bit late in the day for you to develop a conscience, isn't it, Neal?"
"I've never shot anyone."
"Fair enough." James shrugs. "You did pervert the course of justice with your little trick, and that confession on tape – I have to admit that was well done. Inconvenient, but well done."
"I didn't pervert the course of justice, I corrected it. What do you want?"
"I want to be able to have a life again. Thanks to you, that's no longer an option… Or at least, not an easy option. But you're going to help me."
"I don't want anything to do with you."
"I've been busy this year, Neal. With our friend Senator Pratt out of the way, I've been able to make some friends in high places myself. I can arrange for my criminal record to be expunged – and then, with a set of false documents, I can be a member of the public again. No more running and hiding. Who remembers me, after all? One dirty cop thirty years ago? Everyone who knew me back then is dead –"
"Peter and Mozzie know what you did."
James scoffs. "I have the price of their silence right here in this room. I have you. I think that's enough to guarantee my safety."
"Peter's not going to go for that. He won't let you get away with this."
"I think we both know that's not true. Talking about making the right decision is a lot easier than making the right decision. Burke won't want your life on his conscience. It doesn't matter, anyway. I'm not going to hang around in New York waiting for him to catch up with me and put me in an orange jumpsuit. That's not why I needed you. I need you to help pay for my freedom."
Neal's eyes widen in understanding.
"You're in with someone. A crooked judge, this time? Another crooked cop? And they want something you don't have that you want me to steal for you. I won't. You can do your own dirty work."
"I might be a murderer, Neal, but I was never a thief. That's all you."
"I won't do it."
James went right on as though Neal hadn't spoken. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to be given a new passport and you're going to travel to Europe with a couple of my associates and do exactly as they tell you. When you've got them what they want, you're free."
"You're going to let me go?"
"Yes. After you've been released, you'll have two choices. One, you can keep your new passport, along with other documents my friend will provide you, and stay in Europe, out of the news, out of sight. You will never set foot in America again. You will never attempt to contact your friends. Any breaking of the rules will have severe consequences. As for the second choice…" James pulled out his gun and tapped Neal's cheek lightly. "Let's not talk about the second choice, kiddo. You don't want to go there."
"You can't do this."
"I can and I am. Come on. It's about time we were getting to the airport."
"I won't go."
"Don't waste my time, Neal."
James backs out of the room, and another man comes in. Neal recognizes him as his main kidnapper.
"You."
"I told you I'd be the last person to see Neal Caffrey alive."
He thrusts his hand at Neal. He's clutching a little booklet. Neal takes it and flips it open. His own face stares back at him from the inside cover, next to the name GEORGE BENNETT.
"I thought we'd keep it simple, George," James says.
"My name's Neal, and I'm not going along with this."
Two hours later, Neal's in a Lear jet with the most luxurious interiors he's ever seen. He'd be able to enjoy it more if he weren't currently cuffed to his chair.
He knows this is bad. Once they have him out of the country, it'll be harder for Peter to track him down.
If Peter's even trying, and doesn't just assume Neal broke his anklet and made a run for it.
But, no, Mozzie'll make sure Peter knows Neal didn't do that.
He doesn't know who James is involved with, but he's sure they're bad news.
Neal stares out the window as the plane starts to taxi. This isn't how he imagined leaving New York. He still doesn't know where they're going. Europe is huge.
Sara's in London, he reminds himself. And last heard, Alex was in Europe. If he can get a message to one or both of them – these guys can't watch him all the time, especially if they want him to do a job for them –
The airstrip falls away beneath them as the plane takes off.
Neal lets out a long breath. James has the upper hand for now. But he's spent a lifetime getting himself out of worse situations than this one.
He's going to be fine.
THE END
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