Disclaimer: same as Chapter 1
Author's notes:
- Wow! Thank you to all who have put this story on their Fav and Alert lists!
- The "spider-sense" is mentioned in the Spiderman comic books, edited by Marvel comics.
- Neal's quote is from English poet, literary critic and philosopher Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834).
Chapter 2: The blue-eyed conman
Neal Caffrey was sitting on the chair facing Peter Burke's desk, absently tapping his fingers on his coffee mug with the caption "FBI's best consultant" in bold blue letters on the white glazed ceramic. The mug had been a gift from the Harvard squad (namely, people working with Peter Burke) as a discreet "Thank you" present after a video tape falsely incriminating their boss had been mysteriously erased. Garrett Fowler, the OPR Agent who had launched an investigation on Peter, had to fly back to D.C. with only the arrest of a corrupted federal judge as a consolation prize. Neal had denied any involvement in the erasing of the video tape but everybody knew the ex-convict had been the mastermind behind it.
Peter Burke looked at his consultant; Neal was fifteen years his junior and, with his baby blues and handsome face, he could easily look even younger. But it was his usual attitude that usually fooled people about his age. Neal was cocky as Hell, showed unfading courage during undercover jobs and he was also incredibly resourceful, getting out of danger using his ingenuity or his encyclopedia-like knowledge about art, escapology, history and so on. But what was amazing about Neal was his good heart; he had often gotten involved in cons simply to restitute a painting, a house, a Bible to their legitimate owners and even once, he had investigated inside a private clinic on his own to help his landlady's granddaughter to get reinstated in an organ donor list. And let's not forget him almost getting killed when trying to run away with Kate, his unreliable girlfriend after Fowler had guaranteed them both a safe passage to freedom – a guarantee that had busted into flames along with the jet plane in which Kate had boarded in. Peter had often wished Neal would listen more to his brains rather than his feelings, but the young man was so endearing with his Peter Pan/Robin Hood personae that it was hard to remain angry with him for very long.
However, something was troubling Neal's azure gaze and Peter was decided to get the bottom of it. The FBI Agent was responsible for Neal's security and well-being, and he was resolute nothing or no one would stand between the ex-convict and his rehabilitation.
"Neal?"
"Hm?"
"What's the matter?"
The young man lifted his eyes from the caffeinated drink slowly cooling inside his mug, and then he lightly shrugged his shoulders.
"Nothing."
"Neal…"
"I meant nothing important. It's unworthy of your time, Peter."
"Can I be the judge of that?"
"Please don't say 'judge', it brings back bad memories!" chuckled Neal while taking a sip from his coffee.
A long-suffering sigh escaped from Peter's thin lips, a sure sign for the conman the teasing of his friend was on the right track. However, a question was nagging inside his mind and Neal decided to put the jokes on hold for a little while... a very little while.
"Look, Peter… If I did something wrong, like offending someone at the office or goofing with a file, you would tell me at once so I could rectify the situation, right?"
"Of course I would. The job we're doing is potentially dangerous so we need full cooperation between us to be able to function properly on the field. However, you are far too intelligent to mess with a case and you are a social person so the chances of you turning the White Collar Unit into a madhouse are very slim, even if you drive me crazy every ten minutes."
"It takes ten long minutes to make you become insane? Wow, I really need to sharpen my skills, I want to send you to the nuthouse within the time length of two minutes!" joked Neal while Peter had his usual semi-exasperated face on. "Anyway, I just wanted to know… Well, have you heard if I am really tolerated at the Unit?"
Peter's eyebrows shot up to the roots of his chestnut-brown hair. It was true that when Neal had taken his first steps as the CI of the White Collar Crime Unit, Peter had feared some people would feel uncomfortable working with the conman; but in just over a few weeks, Neal had managed to worm his way into the other agents' hearts, especially Jones and Diana who couldn't praise enough his courage and cool intelligence, "worthy of a full-fledged FBI agent" according to Jones. But most people simply trusted Peter's judgment unconditionally: their boss considered Neal was the man for the job and the rising crime-solving rate was the best proof of it.
Peter was about to ask what brought that question on, but the recent incident with Buck Stone quickly came to his mind and provided him with the answer. It was true no Agents resented Neal's presence in the office apart from one grumpy man who had steadfastly refused to interact with anyone. So he looked straight in the sapphire orbs of the ex-convict and said:
"Neal, you're part of this team and don't let an idiot like Stone make you think otherwise."
Neal turned his attention back to his coffee. Darn it, Peter was too intelligent for his own good; he could read him like a book while hundreds had been fooled through and through by the cons the young man had pulled for years. No wonder Peter had been the only one able to put him behind bars! But Neal felt embarrassed, like he had whined about a bullying coworker instead of shrugging the whole matter off and "cowboy up", to quote Peter.
"And you are not whining, either," added Burke, making a surprised Neal choke on his coffee. After a loud coughing and sputtering row, he managed to regain enough control of his voice to blurt out at his handler:
"Are you a medium or something? Because if you are, anything you have read inside my mind can't be held in a court of law and…"
"Neal, will you stop? I don't need a sixth sense to see the animosity Stone has against you."
"Well, that's a good thing, because you nearly made me believe in one of Mozzie's crazy conspiracy theories about federal agencies manipulating us via telepathy!"
"But, in order to ease this wild brain of yours, I can tell you this: Stone is an embittered, jealous man and he has been a thorn at Hughes' side for years. So don't take anything he tells you personally; he is spitting venom but he is unable to hurt you."
"Peter, I've been in prison for four years, bullies don't frighten me. It may not look like it but I can defend myself. It's the same thing with guns, you see? I hate them but it doesn't mean I don't know how to use them when needed. But I don't want my presence inside this building to become a problem. Since I have to wear this tracking anklet, you don't need me in your face 24/7 after all. I can be a work-at-home consultant, for example; we'll communicate via webcams and I'll send you my conclusions by e-mails and…"
"Neal, you are talking nonsense!" said Peter firmly. "Why in the world would I want to send you home? Leaving you alone in June's guest room would only spell trouble. Within two days your overactive brains would have created about a dozen cons and Mozzie would be too eager to help you concreting them. Besides, I knew what I was committing myself to when I accepted to get you out of prison on a work-release program, and I won't back off. Fowler hasn't managed to make me change my mind about you, especially not after we discovered his hidden agenda so Stone's meanness has a snowball's chance in Hell to make me think twice about our agreement."
The dark-haired young man gulped down the remains of his coffee to soothe his aching throat, still looking unconvinced. He had a lifelong experience with disreputable individuals; he knew the greatest bandits were not always in the streets and a little jealousy could go a long way. Neal would hate it if Peter ever got caught in the crossfire but he also knew his friend wasn't a man who could be discouraged easily; Fowler had tried to wrongly accuse Neal of a diamond heist, and after it had failed the OPR agent had launched an investigation on Burke to get him out of the way, all this for an amber-made music box the ex-convict was supposed to have stolen. Both times, Fowler's plans had been foiled thanks to Peter's intervention. Neal could trust the older man to watch his back – heck, Peter was the only person in his life he trusted – and that was a treasure, a real treasure the young man would do anything to keep it safe, including exile.
"Why are you so concerned about Stone's opinion?"
"I'm not! It's just… Well, I can't help but have a bad feeling around him."
"Who's the medium, now?" asked Peter with an amused smile before taking a sip of coffee from his mug proclaiming he was the "World's best husband".
"Laugh all you want, but my conman-sense is as sharp as the Amazing Spiderman's and it had never failed me. Every time a deal felt strange, the back of my neck would start tingling so I'd just said "No thanks" and walked, just before my eventual accomplices would get caught by the police or worse, killed by revengeful competitors. Mozzie says it is part of our natural instinct that had survived through centuries of civilization, and in my case it has remained higher than my other fellow human beings."
"That's not unusual, Neal. Lots of people have this kind of premonition."
"Yes, but only one percent of them actually listen to this instinctual reaction to danger, and I do. That makes me the Amazing Conman!" countered the young man while flashing one of his million-dollar smile.
Peter gulped down the rest of his coffee to hide his laughter. Modesty wasn't at the top of the list of Neal's qualities!
"Well, Web-crawler in a Devore suit, you can tell your super-senses to calm down. Stone is no danger since he is not allowed to go on the field and he knows better than to mess with the paperwork out of retaliation for finding your presence offensive. He is under Hughes' radar and the only thing he should concentrate on is to improve his paperwork skills and learn to be civil towards his co-workers – and I mean all his co-workers," added Peter with a hint of steel in his voice, "otherwise he will be shown the door with only himself to blame for the situation."
"Maybe it would be wise if I'd avoid him as much as possible," mused Neal out loud. "Since he seems resolute in not liking me, it is useless trying to change his mind. It will only create tension inside the office and we don't need a poisonous atmosphere."
"Call the press! Our CI is growing up and finally earning some common sense!" joked Peter.
""Common sense in an uncommon degree is what the world calls wisdom". Do you know who said that?"
"It was Samuel Taylor Coleridge, I believe."
"Quite right! Aren't you happy to have such an uncommon and wise CI in your team, Agent Burke?"
"I would be happier if the said uncommon and unwise CI would go to his desk where he belongs and start working. You drive me crazy!" grumbled Peter.
"My, has it been ten minutes already?"
"Neal!"
The young man answered with a laugh, too happy to have teased his friend; jumping on his feet, he exited Burke's corner office and, with a last salute towards his handler, Neal dashed through the stairs leading to the "Pit", the open space where all the other agents worked at their desks, consulted files neatly organized in archive boxes and had a chat around the machines brewing a coffee that was – according to Neal's standards – barely drinkable. Peter watched as Neal smiled at a blushing female intern, greeted red-haired Price by clapping him on the shoulder and lowered himself on his office chair before typing in the earnest on his keyboard to fill up his final report about the theft of an ivory statuette that had been solved the day before.
An outside observer could see Agent Burke wearing his "Proud Papa" smile on his face once again.
(Later, in the evening)
Stone's plan had reached maturity. It was a simple one and thus, it was infallible. Crooks always put up with complex plans in a useless effort to foil the police and it would always end with handcuffs and Miranda rights. But Stone was a FBI agent (not a miserable conman playing with the system) and, with his natural-born talents and law enforcement experience, it didn't take him long to figure out how to put unwanted Caffrey back to jail. A simple but effective plan would do the trick and, in less than a week, everyone would have forgotten about the little crook polluting the White Collar Crime Unit by his mere presence. Burke would be upset for a day or two, of course, but Stone would step up and offer his help until the Head Investigator would name him as his new partner… his real partner.
The man's grey eyes looked around; it was late, almost 7:30 p.m. and most of the agents from the Harvard Squad had left to go home. Even Burke and Caffrey were gone, the former offering the latter a lift home; that had made the agent's teeth grind against one another at the thought of a respectable FBI Agent escorting a criminal to his premises, like a moronic taxi driver. But Stone had feigned to see nothing and, as far as he could tell, neither Burke nor Caffrey had noticed his discomfort.
The Pit was almost deserted; there was only Tom Parker and Stephen Jackson (debating nearby the coffee machines about whether making a fresh pot or to go down to the Starbuck around the corner for some real Columbian), Anthony Hall typing the final details of his PowerPoint presentation scheduled for tomorrow morning (his bloodshot eyes were staring at his computer screen) and Old Fossil Hughes was reading a file, upstairs in his glass-walled office and oblivious to anything else. Good, no one was paying attention to Stone. He would normally be offended by this attitude but this time, it was serving his goal.
Setting aside his abhorred paperwork, Stone got up on his feet and casually walked towards Jones' desk. Nobody noticed his movements and the man inwardly smiled at the thought he had become invisible to his so-called colleagues, but they soon would watch with their eyes opened wide Caffrey walking out of the White Collar Crime Unit in handcuffs, escorted by a squadron of US Marshalls. The little bastard thought too highly of himself; it was time someone put him down a few notches!
Stone reached Jones' desk and spotted an opened drawer, showing the usual mess expected to be found inside an office's piece of furniture: Post-It notes, paper clips, a pair of scissors, an eraser, some Stabilo Boss markers, boxes of staples… and dollar bills barely hidden beneath a blue notebook. Stone pushed away the writing item, swiftly grabbed the money and pocketed it in a single movement. It had taken only a few seconds and he had been completely silent while perpetrating the crime: Part One of his plan was a success. Stone's eyes shone madly when realizing he had picked up a hundred-dollar bill, a fifty and a twenty from Jones' drawer. One hundred and seventy dollar! That was enough to send Caffrey back to jail for an extra two-year sentence on top of the four years still hovering over his head.
Because Stone's plan was simple; Jones' missing money would suddenly be found in Caffrey's drawer tomorrow first thing in the morning. Jones would say those bills were in his desk the night before and it would take about three seconds to reach the unique, logical, unanimous conclusion available: the conman had relapsed. Stone would reach his goal and Caffrey… would be in gaol!
Chuckling lightly, the agent turned about to walk towards Neal's desk but a shining item set on Berrigan's workplace caught his attention. It was a watch with a gold wristband and Stone remembered hearing the woman saying it was a birthday present from her lover. Apparently, Berrigan had forgotten her watch when rushing home and she probably expected to find it at the same spot where she left it on tomorrow morning. After all, thieves were extremely rare inside FBI buildings, weren't they?
"More the merrier, you stupid lesbian!" thought Stone while grabbing the watch as well. His plan was coming along marvelously; both Jones and Berrigan would become "victims" of Caffrey's thievery! Oh, the faces the toy soldier and the lesbian would make after discovering their friend had stolen from them! Not only Caffrey would lose Burke's trust, but of all the Harvard Squad as well and no one would lift a finger to help him while being raped six ways to Sunday in the slammer.
Neal's desk was the closest one to the entrance door. Stone glanced around another time but nothing had changed: Parker and Jackson were still arguing over coffee, Hall was hypnotized by his PowerPoint slides and the Old Fossil hadn't moved an inch. So far, so good. He reached Caffrey's workplace and couldn't suppress a pang of jealousy at the sight of the conman's immaculate desk; everything was neat and clean, the only personalization being a small plaster bust of the Greek philosopher Socrates. Stone's workplace was a disaster area but Hughes had been deaf to the agent's pleas that he needed his own secretary. He was certain Burke would grant him one after becoming the Director!
Stone opened Neal's desk drawer and feigned to take a look, like he was searching for a paper clip or some staples. Socrates remained impassible as the agent dropped money and watch inside the metallic box. There, it was done! Part Two of the plan had worked marvelously. Now it was just a matter of having to wait until morning and watch all the fun.
The agent returned to his desk, just in time to see Parker and Jackson grabbing their jackets as they had finally come to an agreement involving the Starbuck coffee shop. Hall was turning off his computer with a heavy sigh of relief. The Old Fossil was scratching something on a piece of paper, frowning in a severe manner. Once again, no one had noticed Stone's movements and the man had a bitter smile: the days of him being overlooked would be soon over. He would be Burke's partner or nothing!
TBC…