Chapter 10
The municipal van transporting Peter and the crew wound its way slowly through the streets of Manhattan making its way back to its original point of recon, by the waterfront. Somehow, Neal had managed to play to Jaylon Brown's need for greed and the prize he'd finally gotten his hands on had been sufficient to distract the old man, at least temporarily, from any suspicions he had about Neal and his relationship with June. If everything went according to plan, the crooks would begin to produce the bonds before the end of the day and Peter would be able to storm in and finally make his arrest – thanks to the intel they had uncovered earlier on in the case. Without the photographs the team had managed to secure of the printing press being moved into the warehouse, it would have been difficult to get a warrant; thankfully, the judge who had issued said warrant had been satisfied with the evidence the White Collar team had been able to produce and had found it sufficiently damning to proceed.
Now, all that was left was to sit tight and wait for Neal to utter the agreed upon take-down phrase. Peter settled in for the wait, Diana at his side and a handful of agents standing by; life in the van was tedious at the best of times, made worse when you got any more than a couple of people crammed in there. It was hot and sticky, even worse without the A/C when the van was parked, and Peter let out a long slow breath as he called over one of the probies, instructing him to go on a food run for everyone. This could take a little while, might as well have something to eat while they waited.
Peter sighed deeply as he thought of all the things that could go wrong – this was Neal after all and everybody knew to expect the unexpected when Caffrey was undercover.
WCWCWC
Sara sat in her office, her mind miles away from the file that was laid out before her on the desk. She was still involved in active recovery and, to Neal's chagrin, there were still some tricky and potentially dangerous situations related to some of her cases but she'd grown much more cautious since she'd become a mom. Gone were the days when she'd take off by herself to a remote location on an anonymous tip, armed with only her trusty baton and her ballsy attitude. She'd learned her lesson with the Jonathan Martin case, early on in her pregnancy, when she'd suffered a severe beating at the hands of a couple of thugs; nothing was worth putting herself in that type of situation again especially now that she had Hope to think about.
Thanks to a tip from Mozzie, she had recently recovered a Cecilia Beaux painting which had been stolen from one of Sterling Bosch's wealthiest clients' private collection. She looked over at the beautiful portrait as it sat on the nearby easel, a smirk of satisfaction on her face. Mozzie had become a regular informant on some of her cases especially when he wanted to burn someone who had 'done him wrong' – at least in Mozzie's sometimes warped mind. As time went on, he was enjoying collaborating with Sara; she was always discreet and so far his name had been left out of her recoveries protecting him from any fallout from the fences he regularly ratted out. It had made for a tidy little income and Mozzie quite enjoyed the feeling of being part of a take-down – Sara Ellis wasn't so bad after all.
Sara hadn't told Neal yet but she'd recently met with her boss, Winston Bosch, to discuss her interest in the new position of team leader for the group of six insurance investigators who specialized in recovery for the firm's most elite clientele – the clientele that received premium service from Sterling Bosch (and who paid premium prices to get it). Sara had proven herself over the years to be a committed and loyal employee at the firm and despite her six month absence almost two years before as she recovered from her bout with cancer, she had been a permanent fixture at Sterling Bosch for over ten years. This new position would enable her to stay involved in recovery – albeit less directly – supporting the team of younger investigators, bringing her expertise to the table and acting as mentor to the less experienced staff; the fact that it would be a promotion accompanied by a healthy pay raise didn't hurt either. But the thought of leaving the more active job behind also had its downside – Sara loved the thrill and excitement of recoveries and she hated to think about giving it up...
This morning, however, her mind was a few miles away – her thoughts were of Neal and his undercover operation at the waterfront. Seeing him walk in with a bandaged head and black eye the night before had scared her and had renewed her omnipresent fears for her husband's safety. Although he always made light of any injury he sustained, she knew better: Neal often took unnecessary chances during undercover assignments. He continued to be the impulsive, impetuous man he'd always been, especially if someone he cared about was in any danger – whether the danger was real or perceived on his part. She loved his unfailing loyalty and his brazenness but she hated the danger it put him in and she struggled daily with the dichotomy, having realized years ago that this was Neal Caffrey, for better or for worse - and if she was honest with herself, she wouldn't want him any other way. His recklessness and spontaneity contributed in making him the exciting man he was and she knew that if she ever insisted on him toning it down, he would most definitely relent but he would inevitably become miserable, losing that part of himself that made him feel so alive and made him so much fun to be with. Unconsciously, she shook her head willing the uncomfortable thoughts away.
She checked her watch and returned to the task at hand; her report was due in an hour and this was definitely not the time to be in the boss's bad books.
WCWCWC
June and Clinton Jones had been sitting at the kitchen table of the Caffrey home playing gin rummy for a little over an hour when a decisive knock was heard at the front door. Jones stood, hand on his gun and was making his way to the front of the house when he spotted the small bespectacled man through the living room window. He smiled at the sight of Mozzie and opened the door to him, standing there with a box of doughnuts from the local coffee shop.
'Good morning, Junior Suit' he said, deadpan, at the sight of Jones holding the door open for him
'Good morning, little man' Clinton responded
'There better be some Boston cream in there' he added as Mozzie breezed his way past him
'What kind of self respecting person wouldn't include Boston cream in his selection' answered Mozzie, dismissively, rolling his eyes and making his way to the kitchen at the back of the house
The relationship between Mozzie and the White Collar crew fluctuated between suspicion and distrust and periods of détente when they collaborated on cases without actually calling it that – admitting to teaming up with the suits would just be too much for Mozzie to own up to. Instead, he continued to walk the fence, Neal being the constant link between the two worlds and to be honest, Mozzie enjoyed the fact that he could pick and choose the cases in which he helped the suits. For Peter and the crew, Mozzie had become an invaluable ally in many situations and it was often a case of turning a blind eye to his minor misdemeanours – picking their battles so to speak. All told, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement neither party wanted to examine too closely nor wanted to see end anytime soon.
Where June was involved though, there was not a single shred of doubt; Mozzie and June's relationship was stable and enduring; after all, they were alike in so many ways, two peas in a pod, so to speak. The initial distrust he'd felt when he'd first met her (the same distrust he'd had for every single individual he'd ever met) had turned into a genuine and abiding friendship, based on a similar past and comparable value system. There were definite lines that neither Mozzie nor June would ever cross and their loyalty and love for Neal had been a cementing factor in their friendship. Although June had left the active criminal life behind years before, she wasn't averse to walking that fine line between right and wrong, between black and white, and the relationship between her and the conman was now undeniably and everlastingly rock solid.
Without waiting for an invite, Mozzie made his way to the table and grabbed the deck of cards, beginning to shuffle as Jones looked on warily.
There was no way he was sitting this hand out.
WCWCWC
Neal and the trio of thieves arrived at the old warehouse in early afternoon with the bond plate finally retrieved. At this point, JB didn't quite know what to believe as far as his counterfeit guy was concerned and he decided his best tactic was to keep a close eye on Neal's movements making certain his muscle stayed nearby in case of trouble. Regardless of what may or may not have transpired in that room between June and Neal, the conman was still the expert in counterfeiting and JB had no choice but to trust his 'ink guy'.
Although the ink had been thoroughly tested and Neal had settled on the exact hues for the type of paper they were using, there was still the matter of making some test runs with the actual plate - something that would take several hours to complete to Neal's exacting standards. It didn't matter to the ex-con that the printing was all subterfuge, he enjoyed the actual counterfeiting process and he proceeded to start testing the printing plate, adjusting the ink as he went and meticulously comparing his product to the original bond JB had provided.
He could well imagine Peter rolling his eyes nearby in the van; after all, Neal just had to say the word and the FBI would be storming the place, finally ending this ugly mess of a case. But he just couldn't bring himself to be party to a less than perfect product and he kept fiddling with the ink and trying to get it just right. After all, his reputation was on the line here and anything less that perfection might sound alarm bells for Jaylon Brown and put him further at risk. He worked slowly, deliberately, enjoying the thrill of this rare moment – after all, he didn't know if and when he would ever have the chance to work undercover as a counterfeiter again.
'How much longer?' asked JB as he looked on, impatiently
'Until it's right' answered Neal dismissively 'That's what you're paying me for, isn't it?'
WCWCWC
Peter listened in, sipping the horrible coffee the probie had delivered to the van. Dammit Neal, just call it already he thought as he took a long pull on the lukewarm sludge. He knew that this was just Neal's way of gaining control over the situation – Neal needed to be the one to decide when the time was right for the take-down and Peter knew deep down that his partner took some warped pleasure in calling the shots. After all those years of being under Peter's control, Neal loved these situations where Peter was totally at his mercy – and Peter, well Peter hated them.
Neal continued the intricate work and after what seemed like an inordinate amount of time, Peter finally heard Neal call Jaylon over to look at the final product.
'See?' Neal said, needing to show off 'The colors are identical and the paper is a perfect match'
Jaylon just looked on, rather jaded – he wasn't an expert; wasn't that what he was paying Neal the big bucks for?
'So, are we ready to start printing?' JB asked, excitement in his voice
'Why don't you do the honors?' answered Neal, smiling and motioning to the start button on the press
WCWCWC
'That's it, people. That's the take-down phrase' Peter yelled as everyone took their place. The van took off like a bat out of hell towards the warehouse.
TBC