New collaboration of Yellowstone69 and Arches67, new crossover: Person of Interest and White Collar.
Regarding timelines, White Collar starts right at the end of season 4, when Peter is in prison; Person of Interest beginning of season 3. The story will be published in chapters for cliffhanger purposes (evil laugh…), but the story is entirely written (so no worries, you will see the end of it).
We started writing this before seasons 5 (WhC) and 3 (POI) aired on TV, so by the time we were done, the story is now slightly AU…
Also, 90% of the story was written before season 5 of White Collar even started, then we got delayed (personal life and all…). So any similarity is purely coincidental.
As usual, Arches67 translated the story in English, so please forgive any mistakes. Beta'd by KSPretenderFan (thank you!), any mistake left is mine.
* P O I *
New York, Finch's library, Tuesday morning
John Reese climbed the stairs to the library with a smooth gait, balancing the two cups he was holding. In the beginning, bringing Finch his tea had just been another way to find out more about his employer. With time, tea, and now donuts, had become a morning ritual.
Bear had heard him and had rushed to greet his master. John juggled with the cups and box to scratch the malinois behind the ears.
"Hey, Bear."
"Good morning, Mr. Reese," said the genius, sitting as usual in front of his computer.
"Good morning, Finch."
John put the donut box far enough from the edge of the table, –making sure Bear wouldn't take advantage and help himself– and watched the wall.
"We have a new number," he said. A new picture was stuck to the cracked glass wall they used as a board.
"We do."
John took his cup and approached the picture and notes that Finch had already put up. He took a gulp of the hot beverage and frowned.
"What's with all the names?"
"Our new number is quite surprising," Finch explained, coming closer to the ex-agent.
"Neal Caffrey, also known as Steve Tabernacle, Nick Halden, George Donnelly, Gary Rydell, George Devore…"
"Aliases? Who needs that many identities?" John had used several identities during his past as an agent. He currently had six different ones, created by Finch. But that many aliases didn't bode well for their owner. "Do we know which one is his real name at least?"
"The most probable one would be Neal Caffrey."
"Probable?"
"Neal Caffrey doesn't exist before his 18th birthday."
"So it is a forged identity."
"I am accessing the US Marshals data base to see if I can find any information, but their new firewall has been greatly improved."
"I'm surprised, Finch; you can't get in?"
"Certainly not; I just need a little bit more time than usual."
"What do we know about this Caffrey?"
"Mr. Caffrey is a conman. His talents include theft, forgery, fraud…"
"Well, our case will be easier. At least we know if our number is the victim or perpetrator."
"Actually, it is not that simple; I don't see him as a perpetrator. First of all, because Mr. Caffrey is a non-violent criminal, and most especially since he currently works for the FBI."
"With that rap sheet?"
"As a matter of fact, he was only charged with bond forgery. The other… accusations have never been proven."
"It just proves that he is good."
"One of the best, according to the FBI agent, Peter Burke, for whom Mr. Caffrey works."
Reese raised an eyebrow.
"Mr. Caffrey has benefitted from a release program to work for the FBI. He is a Criminal Informant for the White Collar division. He wears a tracking anklet that bounds his movements when he is not under the supervision of his handler. Otherwise, he works with agent Burke's team. His knowledge as regards arts, but also forgery is priceless in his new job. His talent for undercover work has helped the service see its success rate skyrocket."
"He's actually just getting paid for what he did illegally before."
"That's one way of putting it."
Finch limped to the wall to stick more pictures.
"Peter Burke, the FBI agent that chased Mr. Caffrey for four years before finally catching him. His service records are mostly spotless."
"Mostly?" Reese repeated with his usual low voice.
"Apparently, working four years with his informant has made him cross the line on some occasions; the clear white and black world he fervently stood for seems more blurred since then."
"The call from the dark side?"
"These two men, despite their surprising collaboration, have developed a very strong friendship, which has led the agent to jeopardize his career on some occasions. Last year, despite direct orders from his superior, agent Burke went all the way to Cape Verde to look for his informant."
"Cape Verde? What's his radius?" Reese exclaimed.
"Two miles."
Reese waited for an explanation.
"While he was undergoing a hearing to study his release for good behavior, Mr. Caffrey cut his anklet and ran. It took agent Burke six weeks to find him, in quite complicated conditions."
"And Caffrey didn't go straight back to jail?"
"No. It turns out the paradise island he had chosen to hide away was also the hideout of one of the FBI's most wanted. As usual, he managed to play his game perfectly and he got reinstated in his deal with the FBI."
"He does get out of everything…" John murmured.
"Maybe not this time," Finch answered.
Reese turned his head.
"Agent Burke is currently in jail, suspected for the murder of a senator. I still don't have all the details of the case, but Mr. Caffrey's new handler may not be as lenient."
"Most agents give little value to the life of their informant, no matter how useful he can be. The threat may be there," Reese suggested.
Finch stuck two additional pictures. "Diana Berrigan and Clinton Jones, two agents working under Burke. Good elements, they enjoy working with Mr. Caffrey."
Finch finally put up the picture of a short man, mostly bald and wearing round glasses.
"Mr. Spectacles."
"Mr. Spectacles?" Reese repeated slightly amused.
"Yes. This person is close to Mr. Caffrey, a friend, maybe a former partner or associate. I couldn't find any information about him. This man… doesn't exist." Finch looked upset.
"Finch, did you finally find your counterpart?"
Finch straightened, feeling slightly insulted. "The circumstances that led to my… situation are, as you probably know, very delicate."
Reese couldn't help a smile. "I'm sure you'll find out Finch; don't let it get to you. So, any idea why the machine gave us his number? Do you have a hypothesis? Victim or perpetrator?"
"Mr. Reese, I do not make hypotheses. I analyze facts and reach conclusions. So please, go find some facts."
John raised his cup in a toast and drank the last drops of coffee. "I'm gone. Let's go study this most surprising character."
PoI – WC – PoI – WC – PoI
As Reese went towards Caffrey's home to search for information and put a bug, Finch kept giving him more information. The CI was renting a room in a town house of the Upper East side of Manhattan. Finch told John a rich widow, previously married to an infamous criminal, rented him a loft on the third floor of her house for the unbelievable amount of $700.
"Finch, tell me more about that Caffrey. Did you find more information?"
"Yes, I managed to enter the FBI server and access to agent Burke's back-up data. His security system is quite impressive, much more sophisticated than his colleagues'."
"He may be suspicious of his consultant," Reese suggested.
"You mean, like an employee spying on his employer?"
Reese couldn't help a smile. Finch didn't miss a chance to remind him he hadn't enjoyed his own spying to know more about his employer.
"Mr. Caffrey showed up on the FBI radar approximately eight years ago. Agent Burke seems to have made this a pet case and chased him for four years. They literally played cat and mouse all over the world. Mr. Caffrey was finally arrested but the only charge they could hold was a case of bond forgery."
Finch was silent for a moment and Reese only heard the clicking of the keyboard.
"Among the different charges was the theft of a Raphael painting, St George and the Dragon."
"Did he steal it?"
"It is highly suspected, but the painting mysteriously reappeared one year ago, so the truth will never come out."
"He is good," Reese admired.
"Very. Then, four years ago, less than four months before his release, Mr. Caffrey escaped from high security prison."
"He was in high security for bond forgery? Wasn't that a bit exaggerated?"
"He was considered a high escape risk, hence the decision."
"For all the good it did… So he escaped with so little time to go? He must have had one hell of a reason."
"Agent Burke found him less than a day later. Mr. Caffrey was sent back to prison with four more years added to his sentence. That's when the deal with the FBI was cut."
"So Burke is his handler?"
"Yes. And he cannot complain. Since they started their collaboration, their success rate has risen impressively. Mr. Caffrey is non-violent, but in the White Collar service he is a real asset."
"As a former conman, he knows where to look. I'm pretty sure he has kept some of his old contacts."
"Possibly. Two years ago, Agent Burke and Mr. Caffrey recovered a Nazi plunder estimated at several billion dollars in a German U-boat from WWII." Finch was silent for a moment. "Hum, this is weird. Apparently, the contents of the U-boat were destroyed when the warehouse it was stored in blew up; yet a year later, when the FBI found the art, a certain Keller testified to having stolen it to give it back to its rightful owner, Russia… Unbelievable!" Finch exclaimed and remained silent.
"Finch?" Reese called touching his ear wig.
"I have a strong feeling that Mr. Caffrey was in possession of the art of the U-boat during the whole time."
"And he didn't run away?"
"He does seem to enjoy this new life working for the FBI."
"Yet, now that he has chosen the right path, his life is in danger."
"The cases run by the White Collar unit are usually far less violent than those of other services, however it doesn't prevent danger."
Meanwhile, John had arrived at Caffrey's place.
From the opposite side of the road, Reese was looking at the building dumbfounded. It was obvious Caffrey had certainly used his charm and con talent to rent the place. In this kind of neighborhood, you didn't get a piece of boardwalk with newspapers for $700. On the down side, there was no way he was going to be able to get into the apartment to search it or put a bug. He had just seen a delivery man handing a parcel through a service door. It was obvious that the owner had personnel. Accessing an apartment in this kind of town house was completely different than entering a building. He looked around to spot a terrace from which he could spy on the apartment from a distance.
In the meantime, he might as well try to find Caffrey. Entering the FBI building was out the question, there were some limits he wasn't willing to cross. He'd settle in the vicinity. With some luck, Caffrey would step out for lunch and he would get a chance to approach him enough to blue-jack his phone.
Around noon, he finally spotted Caffrey. He was going towards Federal Plaza, animatedly discussing with agent Diana Berrigan. The conversation seemed quite lively, at least for Caffrey. The young woman was shaking her head wearing a resigned look, as if the consultant was weaving an impossible tale. The informant didn't seem fazed by the rebuttal and kept pleading his cause.
Reese would have loved to hear the conversation. He was too far away and would need to get closer to blue-jack Caffrey's phone, but the place they were standing on was too visible to give him easy access. He would try later. Following him while trying to find out why the machine had given them his number was going to be fun. The man was full of a thrilling energy.
Apparentlygiving up, Caffrey raised his arms to the sky then put a hand through his hair. He then turned towards John. The ex-CIA agent didn't worry. He was just another bystander, out for lunch, enjoying a sunny day in New York. He saw Caffrey frowning then turning back to Berrigan and talk seriously to her. She burst out laughing, then showed the direction of the building entrance as they made it back to their offices.
PoI – WC – PoI – WC – PoI
A few hours later, Caffrey left the office and turned northward. His leisurely pace indicated he wanted to enjoy the warm air of the afternoon as he walked home. Following him from a safe distance, Reese took the opportunity to study the man up close. He was a very handsome man; he knew it and seemed to enjoy the casual glances the women gave him, smiling broadly in answer.
Unexpectedly, Caffrey stopped in Washington Square Park. He bought a coffee, then sat on a bench to listen to a jazz player who seemed to know him. John used the occasion to get closer and blue-jack the phone. After a couple of tunes, Caffrey rose and resumed his walk at a faster pace.
On 9th street, Caffrey was shoved by a short man, who promptly apologized and vanished so fast John couldn't see his face. The silhouette reminded him of that Mr. Spectacles, but the two men were friends, there was no reason for the behavior; John winced in annoyance.
Keeping a brisk pace, the informant finally arrived home. He looked around him before opening the door, then closed it slowly. John doubted that Caffrey could have seen him; his years spent undercover had taught him to be invisible. As a former criminal, the conman was probably more distrustful than most people. He knew to always watch his back; he certainly did it most of the time without realizing it.
Going up to the roof he had spotted earlier, Reese called his boss.
"Finch?"
"Yes, Mr. Reese. Any news?"
"No, nothing so far. Caffrey just made it home. He walked back to his place, smiled to all the women of New York, stopped to listen to a jazz player in the park… For a former criminal, this guy is almost boring. I'll keep a watch on him from a terrace. Anything new on your side?"
"Still nothing on Mr. Spectacles. I did, however, find out why Mr. Caffrey didn't seem to exist before his eighteenth birthday. He grew up in witness protection."
"In New York?"
"Saint Louis. He was sent there with his mother and his father's partner when he was three. A sad story about a crooked cop. Apparently, the criminal genes run in the family."
"The apple not falling far from the tree? Isn't that a bit easy for you Finch? Was your father a scientist?" Reese never missed a chance to dig into his employer's past.
"Hence my fascination with computers? Mr. Reese I invented it all…" Finch answered with a smile, hinting that he had understood John's intention and wouldn't say anything. "No calls on Mr. Caffrey's phone?"
"Not since I blue-jacked it. There is no activity, as he has it turned off. Surprising. I thought nowadays, you got a call every ten minutes."
John took some pictures of the apartment, sending them directly to Finch through the wifi connection on his phone. Caffrey had removed his jacket and tie and had just poured himself a drink.
Mr. Spectacles arrived a few minutes later in a state of advanced frenzy. He went straight to the bottle and poured himself a generous glass. Reese lamented not having been able to enter the loft. He really would have liked to listen to that particular conversation. The short man seemed to vibrate with anger while Caffrey tried to calm him down.
Ten minutes later, the conman went to his easel.
"Mr. Reese?"
"Yes, Finch."
"Nothing new? The pictures you sent don't reveal much, except that they have an excellent taste in wine. That particular year is absolutely wonderful."
"No. Caffrey is painting. And if his friend doesn't calm down, he's going to have a heart attack."
"Mr. Caffrey is a remarkable artist. Painting probably helps him relax."
"Or convey a message…" Reese murmured.
"Art is just another expression form," Finch answered.
"No, I mean, really convey a message." Reese took a picture and sent it to Finch.
In his library, Finch straightened suddenly. Bear felt the sudden tension of the man and came closer with a little whine.
Finch rubbed its ears to calm him down. "It's okay Bear. Our new number is quite surprising indeed."
TBC…
N/A: What is Neal up to? Didn't he realize he was being followed?
Stay tuned…