Chapter 9

Diana drove back to the precinct right away. She hoped that Detective Motta would not ask too many questions, and that he would be rather pleased to have an Interpol agent request his help. She found him in his office, a room with no windows, but with walls painted a depressing shade of yellow. The policeman had his back to the door, he was doing some research on the internet. Diana knocked on the door-frame.

"I'm sorry to disturb you while you work, but I need your help."

The detective quickly shut the page he was surfing on and turned around, but the reaction did not worry the young woman. She thought he was busy with some private research and did not want to have trouble with his boss.

"What can I do for you?"

"The man you had in custody, Neal. He was not in the cities where the crimes took place by accident. He was sent there by a man who ordered him a painting. We have to find whoever it is."

"And you need me because…?"

"Neal never met him. He only had contact through email. I've heard you were the one person who could help me."

A little flattery from time to time could not do any harm. "I underestimated Neal's influence on my behavior", Diana told herself, and while using her most charming smile. She handed on the notebook the reformed con man gave her. One more proof that he had nothing to hide.

Detective Motta took the computer and turned it on.

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises."

"What can I do for you while you work? Would you like a coffee?"

"I'd love one. Black, with a lot of sugar."

Diana took her time, she didn't want to put pressure on the young man. She came back about twenty minutes later, carrying two steaming cups that smelled really good.

"Italian roast. It's the best."

"Thanks. But I'm afraid I only have bad news. The person who sent those emails wanted to stay anonymous. The messages passed through a huge amount of servers around the world. I wasn't able to find the source. I'm sorry."

Diana digested the news by sipping her coffee. They would need another way to follow the trail of the mysterious buyer. She thanked Detective Motta and was about to leave when the young man called her.

"You seem very close to the suspect. Are you sure he's not trying to fool you?"

"With Neal, I was never sure of anything, but I believe he changed. I hope so, at least."

She walked out of the door to go back to Neal's, leaving alone an inquisitive cop.

The detective turned back towards his computer and reopened his browser at the page he was reading earlier. He was stunned to find how many crimes Neal was suspected of over the course of the years. The list was impressive. It seemed that nothing could resist the con man. Motta kept searching the Interpol database. He thought that the story around Neal's new identity was odd.

He was about to give up when a detail caught his attention. Neal Caffrey had died a couple of times before being arrested. He faked his death at least twice. Once in a car crash, and once… he let people believe he perished in a shark attack. In other words, he could totally disappear right under the American government's nose.

Vincent Motta decided to get to the bottom of the story. He made a few phone calls until he could speak with an agent at the international relations office of the FBI. The man on the line made things clear. The Bureau never helped criminals disappear. The witness protection program only took place on American soil, for logistical reasons. To protect the life of a person in a foreign country would be way too complicated and expensive. The detective decided to push his luck and threw Neal's name in the conversation. The answer was final: Caffrey was dead and buried, he was not part of any FBI program.

The detective hung up, pensive. Diana Berringan and her American friend, so-called FBI agent, lied to the French police. They protected a criminal. A thief whose profile corresponded perfectly with the one they supposed to chase. He needed to talk to Captain Lescaut.