Chapter 8

The two of them arrived at the FBI offices disgruntled and bad-tempered and went to face whatever additional unpleasantness Hughes had in store for them.

"Sit down, Peter. Caffrey." Hughes motioned them to the chairs in his office. "I received a call from the District Attorney this morning. And one from the U.S. Marshals. We have been royally conned. Apparently your wife…" he shot a look at Neal, who flushed slightly, "has disappeared. And so has her friend. The marshals set them up with their new identities. They went back 6 hours later with video equipment to take Derek Anders' testimony, and the two of them were long gone. All the identification the marshals provided was left behind. They must have their own new identities. So far they have found no trace."

"So, she never had any intentions of giving us Janik. It was all a con job to get her boyfriend out of prison." Peter's intense annoyance and frustration at having fallen for the trick radiated from him.

"Not entirely, Peter," Hughes continued. She also left a letter—addressed to you. The marshals faxed me this copy of it." He handed to Peter.

Peter skimmed it quickly and let his hand drop. "I'm sorry, Sir, that I involved the Bureau in this."

Neal's patience ran out. "Peter, what did she say?"

Peter offered Neal the letter. He took it and read.

Dear Peter,

I promised to provide you Janik's location in exchange for your releasing Derek. I do try to keep my word whenever possible. You can find Janik at the city cemetery in Pensacola, Florida under the name of Raymond Abbott. He died last year of natural causes. A stroke. He lingered for 9 months giving me time to dig through records and shift some assets. Now that I'm not there to keep the business going, it will fold. The illegal arms sales will cease. You are getting what you wanted, just not quite the way you wanted it.

Neither of us got everything we hoped for, but sometimes compromises must be made. Don't be angry—it was nothing personal.

Sincerely,

Rachel

"I'm sorry, Peter."

"It's not your fault, Neal. You gave me fair warning she'd feed us just enough truth to get us hooked. I should have listened to you."

"But…"

"That will do, gentlemen." Hughes interrupted. "I think we've spent enough time on this. But Peter, I expect better from you. Caffrey, any more wives, girlfriends, casual acquaintances or total strangers from your past—I don't want to meet them."

Neal nodded. "Understood, Sir."

Neal and Peter left Hughes's office quietly, both of them feeling foolish and dejected.

As they returned to Peter's office, Neal hesitantly asked, "Peter, did you feel this way each time I gave you the slip when you were chasing me?"

"Pretty much. Although I had a grudging respect for your cleverness." He sighed. "And if I'm going to be perfectly honest, I guess I have to admit that Rachel's scheme was masterful. We just got outplayed."

"She is incredibly good at what she does." Neal paused a moment, then haltingly continued, "Peter… I want you know…the years you were chasing me…I never intended for you to feel foolish or look bad to your boss…"

Peter smiled. "Forget it, Neal. I know it was-what did Rachel say?-nothing personal. C'mon, let's go find some live bad guys we can actually catch."

Neal returned the smile, grateful that Peter wasn't one to hold a grudge. The former conman didn't think he could be as forgiving.

A week later, Neal and Mozzie were seated at the table in Neal's apartment. The silence between them drew out uncomfortably. Neal fingered the diamond in front of him. He had studied it countless times since that night he'd slipped it out of its velvet pouch in the cigar club. It felt cold. Jewels were things of beauty, but they had no soul. Not like a painting that exposed a piece of the artist's essence, his divine inspiration. This was nothing more than a rock. Exquisitely beautiful, but empty and hard. Much like his wife.

Mozzie sat across from him watching. Finally he asked, "Have you decided what you're going to do with it? Cause that's a couple million dollars you're playing with."

Neal sighed and looked up. "I don't know, Moz. A year ago, there wouldn't have been any question about it. Now…"

"The suit has warped your sense of values."

"Maybe. I didn't choose this life, but I am living it. And it's changing me, I think."

Mozzie quoted, "When you fall in a river, you're no longer a fisherman; you're a swimmer."

Neal laughed and shrugged his shoulders. He held the stone up and watched the play of light skitter across the facets. "It reminds me of Rachel. You know, maybe I should give it to her—it's her true heart's desire, after all."

"Are you even considering that?" Mozzie said in shock at the thought.

"Maybe…" Neal grinned. "But I think I'll wait ten years before I tell her I have it."

Mozzie chuckled in relief.

A knock sounded at the door, and a voice called, "Neal, it's Peter."

Neal reflexively grabbed the diamond and slipped it into his pocket. He opened the door and waved Peter into the apartment. Peter's shoulders were still slightly stooped. They had been that way since the weight of Hughes's disapproval had landed on them after Rachel's disappearance.

"This came for you by courier." Peter held out a large envelope addressed to Neal Caffrey, care of the FBI Manhattan office. It was unopened.

Neal took the envelope with a questioning look at Peter. He got nothing but a shrug in response.

Neal tore open the envelope and pulled out a sheaf of papers. As he scanned over them, his smile grew. He looked up beaming. "I'm officially divorced."

"Well, that calls for champagne." Mozzie bustled around the kitchen collecting glasses and a chilled bottle from the fridge. He popped the cork and poured a generous amount into the three glasses. After handing the wine to Neal and Peter, he raised his glass and intoned, "Divorce is a declaration of independence with only two signers. Here's to independence day."

"So you're a free man." Peter said as he raised his glass.

"Hardly." Neal said bitterly, gesturing to his anklet.

Peter put his hand on Neal's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "One thing at a time, Neal. It will come."

The compassion in those brown eyes flooded Neal with warmth. On impulse, he pulled the diamond from his pocket and handed it to Peter. "Here's an amendment to that declaration of independence. It should go a long way to getting you back into Hughes's good graces."

Peter stared in shock and appreciation at the jewel in his hand. Neal would never cease to amaze him. "Neal, is this what I think it is?"

Neal nodded. "The Cathcart."

"You stole this?"

"No, Janik stole it. I retrieved it. And now I'm turning it in to you."

"How on Earth did Rachel let you keep this from her?"

"She wasn't certain it was there. So I substituted a key. It should keep her searching for a long time.

"A key to what?"

"Mozzie's storage unit. Lots of interesting stuff, but I doubt there are any diamonds in it though."

Peter smiled and shook his head. Looking down at the sparkling fortune his consultant had just freely relinquished, he said quietly, "I am so proud of you, Neal."

Peter drained his glass of champagne, pocketed the diamond and left, still smiling.

Neal moved over to stand in the doorway to the terrace. He looked over the skyline without really seeing it. Instead he was trying to put a name to the feeling Peter's words had caused to bloom in him.

Mozzie walked over and stood next to him. He quoted, "There are two ways of being rich. One is to have all you want, and the other is to be satisfied with what you have."

"Well, I don't feel rich yet, but maybe I'm heading in the right direction."

"Maybe you are, my friend. Maybe you are after all."

FIN