New Year Day, Brooklyn ... Today

It was noon, and both El and the boy were napping upstairs. Therefore, Peter had a quiet moment by himself. The Burkes had stayed home last night watching TV. When the countdown announced the New Year, they had raised their glasses and toasted to the New Year. Soon afterwards, they went to bed. It has been an exhausting week with the baby having caught a cold right after Christmas. This New Year's Eve they didn't feel like party at all.

However, Peter didn't manage to find sleep until early morning even though he was bone-tired. The past year has brought many changes. Good ones. And not so good ones. Okay, awful, devastating ones. He hasn't been able to banish the gloomy thoughts.

As glad as Peter Burke was about baby Neal joining their family – it couldn't fill the void. There was a deep black hole in the agent's life, nowadays, ripped open by the death of his best friend. Crap, who was he kidding? His only friend.

Whenever the FBI agent thought about his former CI, the pain was as fresh and overwhelming as it has been the very first day. A part of him has never left the morgue and was still sitting there on the bench crying over the loss.

The blueish white face of his friend was haunting him. Eyes closed. Closed forever. He would never look into the lively sapphire-blue eyes again. The moment Peter had zipped up the body bag, he had felt like dying himself.

Ever since, nothing has tasted alright anymore. Italian roast tasted just like the office drip. Deviled ham was pretty much the same as sushi for him. El's home cooked dinner had the flavor of cardboard. While shoveling his breakfast in the morning without enthusiasm, he wished a certain con man would rush in to disturb the quiet daily routine, dashing in with some crazy idea on his mind.

One day, he had found another Sheriff's star at the bottom of his cereal pack. He had held the toy in his hands and gazed at it dumbstruck. Then he had rushed out of the back door mumbling something about Satch needing a walk. He hadn't wanted El to see him bursting out crying. He has shed so many bitter tears already. He knew his wife wanted him to be happy again. Only, as hard as he tried, and God knew he did try, happiness evaded him.

Peter wallowed in memories. Neal walking down the wooden stairs in June's house wearing his Fedora with a mischievous grin. Neal offering him Yankee tickets. Neal charming legions of women. Neal complaining about the unflattering mug shot of him in the newspaper. Neal scheming another bold venture. Neal teasing him. Neal risking his life for him. Neal!

How Peter missed his shenanigans and laughter, the brazen tricks, and the intelligent scams! The agent never talked about his loss because he felt nobody would understand. He had to keep up appearances. After all, he was the ASAC of the White Collar division and not some moody teenager.

The irony did not escape Peter Burke. He, a seasoned special agent of the FBI, was pining for the good old times and a convicted criminal. Back in the days when he had started his FBI career he would have laughed heartily at such an idea.

Life seemed to be an endless chain of 8 to 6 days, working dull hours, mortgage frauds, new probies, and budget meetings. Even the 'pling' of the elevator sounded uninspired, almost sad nowadays. Without the detailed descriptions about the tie pattern of the main suspect being in disharmony with the shirt, studying case reports felt like chewing on leather. Reading about the enormous personal sacrifice his consultant had made, in enduring endless hours of stake out in a bleak van, had never failed to amuse him.

Coming home to Elizabeth and the little one - it was hard to think about his own son as Neal - was good. Gave him some warmth, nothing less than a feeling of belonging. The boy was claiming his full attention, made him laugh and love all the time. El was so happy with the child, and so was he.

If only… If only, his heart wouldn't make a jump whenever he saw a Fedora in the crowd.

Peter sighed and opened his laptop to check the inbox. There was a lot of mail from acquaintances wishing him a happy New Year. He skipped through them, though nothing drew his interest.

Then he saw the 653 spam mails. That was an unusual high number. Of course, there was the occasional mail inviting him to dating portals, offering potency-enhancing drugs or the score of a lifetime. However, that was usually no more than 20 mails a day.

Peter opened the spam folder and noticed that almost all of the senders had strange names like Collins Mbadiwe, Barrister Musa Abubakar, or Boma Navaoda. They all had the same subject, 'Bussines Opportunity requires your attention'.

He had figured the Nigeria connection has dried out over the years. It was a type of fraud and one of the most common types of confidence trick. The scam typically involves promising the victim a significant share of a large sum of money, which the fraudster requires a small up-front payment to obtain. If a victim makes the payment, the fraudster either invents a series of further fees for the victim, or simply disappears.

Judging on the spelling errors, this seemed to be another attempt that seemingly was going for quantity rather than quality. Probably, if you send out 2 million fraud mails, you find 5 idiots naive enough to fall for the trick.

The FBI agent was slightly amused and opened a random mail. His jaw dropped while reading the scam text.


Attention:

Dear Friend,

I would like to firstly send to you and your family the best wishes of good health and success in your pursuits this New Year particularly through my proposal as contained in this letter. Before going into details of my proposal to you, I must first solicit you to treat with the utmost confidentiality, as this is required for its success. I hope you will see the good in me.

I wish to state unequivocally that you were recommended to me with regards to your image and reputation, tough we have not met or entered into any form of transaction before to determine precisely the authenticity of your honesty, however I decided to act on the recommendation which invariably suggest my conviction that you are trustworthy and honest. You're the only person in my life I trust.

I am Nweke Chukuku the eldest surviving son of a former Nigerian Military leader, the late submarine captain Ifeanyi Chukuku whose death occurred on the 7th Dec. He fell victim to a shark mauling. Having gotten your particulars, I have no doubt about your credibility and goodwill to assist us in receiving into your custody the sum of US $23 million WILLED and deposited in my favors by my late father.

The money is currently been kept in a trust fund, being administered by the family attorney. However the present civilian government on assumption of office, set up a panel of enquiry to investigate and probe all financial activities of my late father, with the resolve to confiscate all his assets. Earlier, the government had placed travel embargo on us.

The security men are also after me and are threatening all my family. Now I want to move the money cash abroad quickly as government investigators are hunting for me to recover money.

Due to my present predicament I am soliciting to entrust this money in your custody till this trial period of my family is over. For your assistance I will give you 30% of the total money as soon as I reach a compromise with you. I shall inform you of the shipment modality via diplomatic means when I receive your consent. This is better than a promise, you even get a contract.

Please be assured that your services are highly esteemed even though I won't be able to meet you in person for now due to my strained living conditions.

Thanks in anticipation.

Sincerely Yours

Nweke Chukuku


Peter reread the mail over and over again. The other emails had the same content; only the name of the sender differed. The text in general wasn't surprising, including the strange wording in addition to the poor quality of grammar and spelling. It was more or less a deviation of the scam mails circulating for years.

But some details were different, strikingly specific...

A shark mauling was mentioned as cause of death. The agent would never forget the day when he had discovered Neal Caffrey's death certificate, stating a shark mauling as cause of death. And much later, when Neal was working with him as a consultant, teasing him, 'Who doesn't like a good shark mauling.'

Plus, a submarine captain in Nigeria was a bit of a stretch. Not completely impossible that there were submarines in Nigeria. However, thinking about submarines in general reminded Peter of a German U-boat in particular, that had a strong connection to his favorite con man.

The date mentioned, December 7th, was the very day he had arrested Neal Caffrey for the first time. He even had told Neal once that he'd made it a point to remember all the important anniversaries, like December 7.

23 Million $ were the promised profit for the scam in the mail. The same amount went missing from the Federal Reserve and has never turned up since. Burke was still planning to ask Mozzie what he knew about its whereabouts. Maybe it was worth a try.

Some of the phrases reminded Peter profusely of conversations he had held with Neal. Scraps of old conversation appearing in the scam text seemed to mock him. There was this one line, he would get something better than a promise... Peter would never forget the elaborate contract Mozzie had drawn up to grant Neal freedom in exchange for arresting the Pink Panthers. Even more, the agent had used almost the very same words that fatal day himself when talking to his younger friend.

This was too good to be true. The smile on Peter's face has reached his eyes. In fact, he was grinning from ear to ear. It was just the type of scam Neal would have loved. It would be a fun to chase him, find his friend. On the other hand, there were warnings that they couldn't get in contact. By no means, Peter would ever dare to risk Neal's life or freedom again.

If Caffrey has sent the mail, it wouldn't help tracking the sender. No-one would ever find out where the mail flood was actually posted. Lots of promising clues, but each and everyone being a dead end. Caffrey was too good to leave obvious traces. Moreover, Peter didn't want to draw any unwanted attention towards the sender. Let sleeping dogs lie.

He checked again but found no clue to the current whereabouts of his fleeing CI. It was highly unlikely that he was in Nigeria though, albeit he was somewhere abroad. The agent would have to wait for another message, a more revealing clue to get going.

Yet out of an impulse he hit the reply button and wrote:


Dear Mr. Chukuku,

In my capacity as Special Agent of the FBI, I can assure you that I'm indeed very interested in your proposition.

The complete White Collar division would be willing to help arranging a meeting, securing your well-being, and safeguarding your properties. We are very keen on serving justice. Though, I do understand your delicate situation and need for precaution.

Therefore, please do not hesitate to contact me directly if you need any further assistance. You know I'm always here for you.

Looking forward to meeting you.

Sincerely yours

Peter Burke


This text was unsuspicious enough. Anyone reading it might assume that the FBI agent was giving a playful warning to a potential fraudster. However, Neal would know his message was received and understood.

After reading on his screen, 'Your message has been sent', Peter closed his laptop, still smiling. It didn't matter how long he'd have to wait to meet his partner again. As long as he knew the latter was alive and safe, everything would fall into place sooner or later.

When Elizabeth came down the stairs an hour later with little Neal on her arm, she rejoiced at hearing her husband humming an old Sinatra song. He couldn't carry a tune, not for all the tea in China. But singing and humming was always a sign he was in an exceptional good mood. It had taken him a long time to overcome his grief. However, he seemed to be happy finally. El smiled, too.

She smelled fresh coffee and even burned cookies from the kitchen. Seemingly, her husband has tried to surprise her with a nice treat. Though, baking was just as humming not one of his core competencies. She didn't mind, not at all.

A look into the warm brown eyes told her that he was indeed in high spirits. She had missed that sparkle and the wide grin that lighted up his face.

Maybe the New Year would be a good one!


AN:

Thank you so much for reading the short ficlet. As always, I hope you like it and are not too annoyed by any mistakes that skipped my attention.

Happy New Year to you all!

The scam mail text was actually extracted from one I received a few weeks ago. Of course, I added those WC pieces... Would have been nice if Neal had tried to get in contact with me. A girl can dream, right? However, I thought this mail was funny and it inspired me to write this story.

In my imagination Peter was humming 'The Good Life'. But then again, if you hear something different in your mind while reading the story, that's completely up to you.