I think my prior update of 2 chapters within a few days of each other was a record for me, but I am going to try to keep the weekly update momentum. :)
A very big thanks to everyone still reading this story and especially to those who left comments and feedback. That's incredibly motivating and I am appreciative. I think I might have lost a few readers but hope most are still with me. There is more action on the way! I am piecing together two stories I had here so it's taking me some time to edit. Hopefully I interweave them successfully.
Peter arrived to the other building where Messier was being held for interrogation expecting to look for Diana. He was surprised upon walking into the office to immediately find Hughes.
"Sir," he greeted. "I didn't know you were headed here."
"Thought I would check on the status of the case as well… Seems to be heating up quite a bit," was Hughes response. "Where's Caffrey?"
Peter paused, a little surprised at the question. He studied his boss's face for a moment and found nothing but the typical solemnness and hard edges. Hughes didn't seem to be suspecting Neal of something; he was simply asking his whereabouts. "Neal's back at the office. He had some paperwork to finish. Why, sir?"
"Just wondering," Hughes answered slowly. He glanced behind him at the rest of the office, which was very similar to their own, but smaller and more dated, and then turned back to Peter. "This Messier character… He's hiding something."
Peter frowned, eyeing the older man quizzically. What else had happened? he wondered. "Yeah… Uh, Diana mentioned he wasn't opening up much."
"At all," Hughes responded stiffly. "And the pressure is on. Look, Peter, I think there is something else going on here. I think he has a bigger network than he's letting on, and we need to find out who they are and who else they are connected to. The amount of artwork this guy had in that office… He doesn't work alone. And that's where I think Neal may be an asset."
"Neal…" Peter echoed.
"We need to find out what's going on now that we have Messier in custody. Someone is going to want to know where this art is. If it's going to be compromised. Especially if any of it is real. And the funds behind it, because if he's the only one on the accounts, they have a problem. At the least they're going to want to wrap up any loose ends."
"We're in the process of cataloguing the art," Peter answered. "And then the plan is to have Neal take a look at it, so that we can confirm what we actually have on our hands."
"Good. But keep him behind the scenes for now, Peter. I think we're going to need to have him play a role here. And we can't have him smelling like a CI if that's going to work. Did Messier see him today?"
Peter paused, musing briefly on the irony of Hughes' question. "Not in FBI capacity," he responded carefully. "He saw him, but he doesn't know he's with us." Hopefully, he thought wryly. And he left out that Neal had actually spoken to him already.
"And what do you think about him going undercover on this one? He's done it a few times, without too much trouble, and with good results…" Hughes pressed his lips together briefly. "Not going to deny that it makes me nervous as hell anytime that anklet comes off though…. There's a lot of temptation. Do you think you can handle him on this one? Make sure he's following our rules?"
Peter kept his expression blank. His internal debate on Neal's involvement returned in full force, but he couldn't share that with Hughes. "Possibly, sir. Depending on the circumstances it could make a lot of sense to get him in there." At the same time the words left his mouth, his conscience was warning him to be cautious. He had no way of expressing to Hughes without raising suspicion that he hadn't fully decided whether Neal's involvement on the case was still a good idea.
Can he be handled? Can he follow the rules? Peter wished he could commit to that. Those should be simple questions. That was the whole arrangement, after all. It was his goddamn job to keep the kid in line.
"Okay, good. Let's talk a little bit more about this with the team, and see what we get from Messier in the next couple hours. Then we'll think about what backstory might make sense for Neal and get him coached. Might take a couple days to sort out." Hughes rubbed a hand over his jaw. "Can't rush this, but can't wait too long either… We can't let this guy slip through the cracks. Not with what is at stake here. We have over two hundred confirmed victims of fraud here across the states."
"I agree, sir. We're on it. One other thing… Depending on how the questioning goes, it's sounding like we're not going to be able to keep Messier in custody, are we…?" Peter asked slowly, digesting the summary of what he'd heard so far from Diana and Hughes. They had enough to take this guy in, and they had the right to search and document the entire inventory at the office, but they probably didn't have enough to hold him in custody too long before he was assigned and made bail. They needed to really think through what they would actually charge him with. And they weren't at that stage yet. The company itself was obviously involved in criminal activity, but Messier's personal involvement still needed to be proved.
"Not sure yet," Hughes admitted. "That's why we need to think fast, and think smart. We let him go and he's likely to disappear relatively soon. And then the whole company walks."
Peter nodded. "Okay. I understand. Let me talk to Diana and to the team. We'll decide what to do next."
"Okay. Good. I need to get out of here." Hughes glanced at his watch and sighed. "Let's plan to debrief in the morning. You'll coordinate?"
"Sounds good, sir." Peter nodded. His mind shifted to Neal and the direction he had given him for the rest of the night. He really hoped Neal listened and took his words to heart. Because it would really send a counterintuitive message for Neal to completely disregard the order, do his own damn thing again, and then be rewarded with going undercover.
He debated giving Neal a heads up about the undercover role. Perhaps that would be enough motivation dangled over him. But at the same time, he needed the night to think about whether it would make sense to put him on this case. Whether he was simply rewarding his impulsiveness.
Peter closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath, and then went to look for Diana.
Stay home.
Prove to me you can.
Neal sighed. He was restless. And anxious. Just as he had been for most of the day.
Peter's words echoed in his head. He realized now in hindsight, begrudgingly, that he had essentially just agreed to be grounded for the evening, and he was annoyed with himself for not realizing that earlier. If he had, he could have pointed out the ridiculousness to Peter. He wasn't a child. Peter couldn't tell him what to do in his spare time.
And he hadn't really agreed to it, if he thought back to the conversation. He hadn't verbally committed to staying home.
Somehow he knew that sort of excuse probably wouldn't go over well, and he told himself to stop going down that alternative route of justifications. Why was he already coming up with defenses for actions he hadn't taken yet? He wasn't going to be able to psychoanalyze the conversation into something that meant Peter wouldn't follow through with sticking him in the file room for a week if he didn't comply. And he didn't want that or a fight about it. Now staying home was kind of more than just a request. It was a challenge to him. A stupid one.
And because of that, he had to stay home. Because he wanted to start the next day on a clean slate. Or as clean a slate as he would be allowed at least. Since the afternoon, Neal's mind had been focused on Peter's comments about whether he could be trusted. Whether he was someone to bring out in the field. Whether he was a liability. If he did something away from home tonight, Peter would easily just point to that as a reason why he couldn't be trusted. Because he couldn't comply with even a simple request, stupid as it was.
Peter's comments about sitting at a desk for the rest of their agreement continued to resonate with Neal as well. That couldn't happen. That wouldn't be good for either of them. But Neal knew he couldn't address the threat with Peter, because any indication that the warning was alarming to Neal would only entice the man to potentially use it as a tool. He might actually follow through.
Sitting at a desk was torture. Even the most beautifully crafted desk, which he certainly did not have, was no more than a wooden anchor.
He needed to be out on the field, actually making an impact, or doing something that felt involved…. feeling something.
"You've been staring into that glass of Cabernet for a good five minutes, Neal."
Neal blinked, suddenly finding himself back in the current moment sitting at the table in his apartment, and gazed across it at his friend Mozzie, who was peering at him with skepticism through his glasses. "Sorry," Neal said instinctively. His thoughts had taken over yet again. Mozzie had been telling him some sort of story, and he hadn't even heard half of it.
"For?" Mozzie responded. "I know I can be a less than stellar story-teller, Neal, but what's on your mind? I thought you wanted to talk about the new case."
"I thought too…" Neal responded slowly. He reached for his glass of wine and swirled it gently, watching the liquid spin in the glass. "I don't even know if I'm on it or not." He took a long sip. "Like I said, Peter's not exactly happy."
"Is he ever?"
Neal glanced up at Mozzie briefly and smirked. He could always count on Moz. After a pause, the smirk faded and he again fell into his thoughts. "The problem is… I wasn't exactly truthful with him."
"The van?" Mozzie waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Who cares, Neal? You didn't compromise the case. He'll get over it. You've done worse."
Neal pressed his lips together, glancing briefly at Mozzie and then looking across his apartment. "Not the van." Yes, he'd done worse, but that also wasn't really a valid excuse to Peter.
"Then what?"
Neal took another sip of wine and then set the glass down on the table and sat back into his chair in a slouch. "He asked me if I knew Messier. I said no."
"Do you?"
"I've never met him before," Neal replied. "That's true. But I'm pretty sure I do know him."
"Pretty sure?" Mozzie took a sip of his own wine and raised his eyebrows. "Do tell, mon frère," he said. "I don't recognize his name… Some of the names I found when digging into the link you sent me, yes. But not him."
"It's… complicated," Neal responded slowly.
"In which way?"
"I…." Neal paused, taking a deep breath. "I'm fairly certain I used to work for him… Not directly. That wasn't his name then. But when I saw the picture in the case file, he looked a little familiar, and the description of the activity was spot on... I knew it was too much of a coincidence. I had to meet him in person just to be sure once I heard his voice and –"
"When was this?" Mozzie insisted, frowning. "What did you do for him?"
Neal shrugged. "Same thing. Forgeries. His operation wasn't as big then. Maybe ten years ago."
"But you never met him in person."
"Never," Neal confirmed. "He wouldn't recognize me. The name, maybe. I mean, not Neal. But… Another name. I had another contact that worked for him that I went through. And a few times I spoke to him on the phone."
"Ten years ago. And you never met him. And he doesn't know your name. So why do you look like you're having an existential crisis?"
"Because, Moz…" Neal sighed. "I didn't tell any of this to Peter."
"Is it relevant?"
"Yes, it's relevant. Obviously."
"Why? You're not currently connected to him."
"Well other than having some information on this guy that could help the case…" Neal continued, "I'm…." He paused. "I'm afraid some of the work he has might be mine."
Mozzie looked at him across the table for a moment and then laughed. "You're kidding."
Neal stared back, deadpan. "No. I created a lot of pieces for him."
"That's classic." Mozzie shook his head. Then noticing his friend's morose expression, sighed. "Neal. Shake it off. The Suit won't know. What are you scared of?"
"I'm not scared." Neal paused. He was. And he couldn't quite explain it to Mozzie. This feeling of guilt. Conscience. Or dread of lectures? If he called Peter now, and told him…. what would the reaction be? He should have probably told him right away, but he wasn't even sure it was the same person until he heard his voice. And at that point, he had already racked up enough infractions to stir up the wrath of Peter.
He hadn't lied. That was true. But he'd left out a pretty damn big detail. And he trusted Peter, right? So why wouldn't he have told him? Peter would wonder what else he was hiding. He wanted to tell him. He'd rather not have this looming over him. And maybe it could help the case. But the question kept repeating in his head. What would Peter's reaction be?
Maybe he'd smile. Maybe he'd feel they had a case. Neal had an 'in'. He was valuable. He could jump right in, take on an undercover role, and get everything they needed to nail this guy. He could really drive the case home. Neal was really hopeful that this would be the case, and he could make Peter proud of him and what he could contribute. But an edge of worry overshadowed that scenario.
Maybe he wouldn't smile. Maybe he'd frown and get that look he got when he was angry. Maybe he'd point out once again where Neal wasn't being upfront with him. Why hadn't he told him earlier? This was proving he was a liability. That he couldn't be trusted. That he was hiding things. Maybe he'd add it to the list. The list… How much room was on the list?
If he didn't tell him, would he find out? If he was going to know, the longer Neal waited to tell him, the worse the aftermath would be. Would this be the last stupid thing on this stupid list?
"Earth to Neal."
Neal looked to Mozzie. "Sorry," he said again.
"I don't get it, Neal."
Neal paused in his response and then admitted, "I'm distracted. I'm not sure what to do."
"Well, I shared what I have…" Mozzie gestured to a folder on the table, which he'd brought with him. It contained the information he was able to dig up from Messier's website, and what the domain was linked to. Everything from the billing address that paid for the website, traffic stats, and more. "You could start with that."
"Thanks, Moz," Neal answered. His brow furrowed and his hand returned to his wine glass. "I will."
"You worry too much about the Suit, Neal," Mozzie continued. "You look like you're a million miles away."
Neal shrugged. "I just… I feel a little anxious I guess."
"Over this?" Mozzie shook his head skeptically. "Neal, you're letting them get into your head too much. They need you more than you need them. He doesn't control you. What'd I teach you?"
Neal rolled his eyes and then cast his gaze out the window. He knew Mozzie's reaction was going to be something along those lines. He didn't get it. He didn't understand what he had with Peter. What there was at stake to lose if he kept messing up. If he kept being seen as a liability. "I know, Moz…" he sighed.
"So toughen up."
Toughening up meant more wine. So Neal took another sip.
"And tell me about this guy," Mozzie continued. "You never met him, but what do you know?"
"It was a long time ago," Neal started. "I mostly dealt with a partner of his. Jason Hilks. I don't know if they're still connected. Messier went by the name Ray Desmond then. I don't know which name is real. Maybe neither. They were a small operation then. He had a little gallery in Chelsea, but it was between tenth and eleventh. Not really a prime spot. They ran the same scheme then. Sold good forgeries to unsuspecting collectors. I helped on some of the pieces and the certificates of authenticity."
"How'd they find you?"
"Friend of a friend…" Neal responded.
"And these were good guys, or…"
Neal smiled. "Good guys? You do know we're talking about criminal activity here, Moz, right?"
"You know what I mean, Neal. You got paid? They were respectable business partners?"
"They were a bit rough around the edges," Neal answered slowly. "Jason, the guy I dealt with, was always paranoid. He'd always ask if I was followed. Always really jittery. And quick to get angry. I heard from a few other guys that he could be violent, and that he carried a gun at all times. But I never saw that. I gave them what they wanted."
"How'd it end?"
"I don't know, really." Neal shrugged. "I kind of distanced myself and was moving onto other things. And one day I realized their shop was gone. I don't know what happened."
"And now he's back."
"I guess," Neal answered. He rubbed a hand over his jaw thoughtfully. "Moz, you think you can look up the other guy? Jason? I'm wondering if he's still around. If they're still connected. He would definitely recognize me."
"Sure. Of course."
"Thanks." Neal watched as Mozzie finished the liquid in glass in one final gulp and started to rise from the table. "You're leaving?" he asked. He wasn't that surprised. He wasn't offering the most intellectual stimulation or even much conversation at all to his friend. But he did like the company.
"It's late, mon frère. We'll talk tomorrow." Mozzie walked around the table and reached out to squeeze Neal's shoulder, briefly but firmly. "And get your head out of the clouds. You keep second-guessing yourself, and that's when trouble starts. You're Neal Caffrey. The Suit has nothing on you."
Neal smiled at him. "Have a good night, Moz."
A moment later his apartment door opened and closed, and he was alone.
Alone with his thoughts.
