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Chapter Eleven
The scene was somewhat of a madhouse when Peter and Jones arrived. Peter hadn't called Diana; she had taken a trip upstate to visit friends. After all, it was supposed to be their weekend off. He and Jones flashed their creds at the officers in front; they waved them on through into the lobby. The Danford Building was an upscale office building housing, from what Jones had pulled up during the drive, over forty different businesses ranging from Financial Planners to Investment Brokers to Internet Banking and Credit Services. The signature company, occupying the majority of the top floor, was, of course, the Danford Diamond Exchange Company.
"Leave it to Neal to go straight for the top," Jones had commented.
Other than the simple exchanging of basic information, the drive over had been rather quiet. Both men were lost in their thoughts about what had occurred and what they were in for once they arrived at their destination. Peter didn't want to believe Neal had chosen this course of action; that he had hacked the anklet and deceived his friends. That all the progress the two of them had made over the past months had only been part of a con that was culminating in a diamond heist at the Danford Diamond Exchange Company. He didn't want to believe any of it, but it didn't make it any less true.
He knew the line between being tempted and taking action was a very thin one for Neal. There had been times when Peter could almost see the battle going on behind the blue eyes as Neal quickly weighed the pros and cons of stepping over that line. But diamonds were a denomination of currency that was accepted worldwide and never lost value; an opportunity to make off with six million dollars worth must have been more temptation than he could resist. With those resources at his disposal, Neal could go anywhere and become anyone; he could start over.
What had he said at the hanger that day? You get to go back to your life, and I get to have one.
Neal's plans for a new life had blown up in his face that day; literally and figuratively. It was the most heart-wrenching thing Peter had ever witnessed; the calm and collected, never-show-your-feelings Neal Caffrey had fallen apart. After Peter had prevented him from rushing into the flaming debris, Neal had crumbled to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. But as Peter held him there on the tarmac, his body shaking with grief, Neal Caffrey had not been an asset; he had been a friend in need of comfort.
He had told Neal that day that he had a life, a life that mattered, with people who cared about him. Something in his eyes said he wanted to believe him, but trust did not come easily to Neal. With time, Peter hoped that might change, and that Neal would realize what he had said to him was true. That the life he had now was a good one where he did good things and made a positive difference in the lives of those around him.
He had begun to think that Neal had finally understood that and was beginning to accept his new life. After his sentence had been completed, Peter hoped Neal would choose to stay in New York. Maybe even continue to work with him and the White Collar team; not because he had to but because he wanted to. Neal enjoyed the work, and they made a good team.
But now he knew that had all just been wishful thinking. Neal hadn't accepted this life; it had all been an act. He had just been buying time until the right opportunity came along and now that it had, he had thrown away any chance he had at a good life. It was such a waste. Neal wasn't a bad person, but he made bad choices. And because of this choice, he would be hunted down and sent back to prison for twenty years.
During the ride over, Peter could feel his face burning with disappointment, anger, and worse, embarrassment. He had let Neal Caffrey make a fool of him. Hughes was right; this was going to bring heat down on White Collar, on his boss and his coworkers. He'd let his friendship for Neal cloud his judgment; he had failed to do his job. He knew it, and Jones knew it, and it probably wouldn't be long until Hughes knew it as well. There was going to be, as Jones had put it earlier, hell to pay. Jones hadn't mentioned those facts again at all; there had been no perfectly valid I told you so. Whether out of respect or fear, Peter didn't know, but either way he appreciated the silence.
Officers were taking statements from the attendees of the event, a sharp looking group both in intellect and in apparel. Neal would have easily fit in with the well groomed, smooth-talking bunch of Investment brokers. They all looked like con artists, and he supposed they were. They just did it the legal way. The wayfinding signage that directed participants to the Event Center hailed it an Investment Opportunity Seminar sponsored by the Danford Diamond Exchange Company.
Invest Today; Secure Tomorrow.
Unless, of course, you were investing in the six million in diamonds that had just been stolen from the company safe.
Peter and Jones were directed by through the lobby to an officer near the front desk. Peter always expected push back when he introduced himself during an NYPD investigation. The local LEO's didn't like Big Brother infringing on their jurisdiction, but this situation was different. Neal Caffrey was his jurisdiction. His responsibility. His mess to clean up, as Hughes had put it. He was expecting a fair amount of gloating at his expense.
"Agent Burke, Agent Jones," the man said, "I'm Sergeant Bradley." He extended his hand. "Let's head up to the top floor; Detectives Johnson and Turner are expecting you."
"What do you know so far?" Peter asked as they started across the lobby.
"The situation is still fluid," Bradley said. "We got the call less than an hour ago, and we got an APB out on Caffrey the minute his face flagged. So we doubt he's had time to get out of the city. We've sent units to his place," He said, "Not that they expect to find him there, but they might turn up something."
Peter very seriously doubted that; Neal wouldn't have left anything behind. Just like the phones, there would be no leads there. He wished he'd have known in time to warn June, though. She would be livid to have the NYPD barging into her home in search of her favorite boarder.
"Crime scene has started processing the locations in the building we think Caffrey visited and," the man continued, nodding at the chaos around them, "we're still interviewing witnesses to see what they may be able to add."
"Where did the camera catch him?" Peter had wondered about that since Hughes had mentioned it. Neal would have taken security cameras into account. After the level of planning this caper would have taken, getting caught on a camera seemed very un-Caffrey-like.
"It caught him the minute he came in the front door," the man responded, gesturing them into the elevator before stepping inside himself. He pushed the appropriate button and continued his dialogue. "He arrived as a guest of the seminar and checked in as Douglas Price, a Wealth Management & Investment Adviser from Chicago. He had an invitation and the proper id. Of course, after we identified him and pulled his record it explained his flawless documentation. Forgery, wasn't it?" He asked, "The thing the Feds finally got him with?"
"Yeah," Peter muttered, "That's the crime we were able to convict him on, but the list of the ones we suspected him of included a much wider spectrum." A diamond heist was right up the Caffrey Alley. "Where did he go after that?"
"He picked up his Orientation Packet at the Welcome Table, then slipped out from the crowd and went to the Security Office on the third floor. He'd lifted a security badge from a building employee, and that's what he used to gain access. He uploaded a program into the mainframe that blocked video from the security cameras from being digitally stored. So after that, we get no images of his movements. Security didn't know anything was wrong until the alarm sounded." The doors of the elevator opened, looking onto the lobby of the Danford Diamond Exchange Company. "Of course, we know this was his ultimate target."
If downstairs had been upscale; this was opulent. The first thing Peter noticed as he stepped out of the elevator was the artwork on the walls. Had Neal been beside him, he would no doubt he'd be spouting off the names of the artists and each piece's value. This was certainly a target rich environment.
Bradley guided them through the lobby to where crime scene processes were underway in what he guessed was the senior partner's office. Once there, Bradley introduced them to Detective Turner; and gestured towards Johnson, who tossed up hand absently and returned to his phone call.
Turner thanked Sergeant Bradley, who, with a nod at Peter and Jones, left them.
"So, you are the one who let Neal Caffrey off his leash."
So it begins, thought Peter. It had taken longer than he'd expected. Sergeant Bradley had been reasonably polite.
"He wasn't on a leash, he was on an ankle monitor," Peter tried to keep the irritability from his voice, "He's a CI, not a German shepherd."
"He's a felon who was given a get out of jail free card by the FBI," he replied curtly, "and now has reverted to form. From what I read in his file, a job like this is just his style."
Finding it hard to argue with his same observation, Peter agreed. "Yes, Caffrey does lean towards challenging targets with a good payoff." Peter still hadn't determined which of those elements were the most important to Neal; the challenge or the payoff. He tended to believe the former. "Do you know how he accessed the Danford offices?"
"He used a security badge to get into a maintenance room," he said, "and entered an air duct. He moved along it for about thirty-five feet, then dropped into the office through the opening there," he pointed to a grill in the ceiling. "He went straight to the safe behind Crawford's desk, opened it, and took the diamonds. We assume he left the same way he came in."
Three persons were in the space in front of the safe; one dusting for prints, another was gathering fiber traces, and a third was photographing the scene. The register in the ceiling, still black with powder, had already been processed.
"Have you determined how he got out of here once the alarm sounded?" Jones asked, looking around, "Are there any window access points?" Jones knew Neal pretty well himself; rappelling down a six-story building would also be his style.
Bradley shook his head. "He didn't set off an alarm here," he clarified, "he set one off when he exited the building through the emergency exit on the first floor."
"A what?" Peter thought he must have heard the man wrong.
"He left the building by the southeastern emergency exit door," Bradley explained, "That's what alerted building security that something was wrong. When they went to check security footage, they realized that something was seriously wrong; the system had been tampered with. They immediately did a system restore, then closed down the building. They called us, sequestered the guests, and began a security sweep of the offices."
"You're telling me that Caffrey got into the Danford Diamond Exchange Company office, opened their safe and stole six million dollars in diamonds, and exited without tripping a single alarm," Peter looked at the man in disbelief. "Then alerted security to the robbery by opening a wired emergency exit?"
"That's what happened, Agent Burke," Bradley replied.
"Why would he do that?" Peter was almost insulted on Neal's behalf; the man was many things, but he wasn't an idiot. "If no one knew a robbery was taking place, he could have walked out the front door with the diamonds in his shirt pocket and no one would have been the wiser."
"Detective Turner made the same observation," Bradley admitted, "but Johnson figures something, or someone, must have spooked him. He panicked and bolted out the closest exit. That's why officers are getting statements from everyone who was here; someone must have seen something."
These men didn't know a thing about Neal Caffrey. He didn't panic. He had an invitation, proper identification and name tag; if someone had seen him, he simply would have come up with a convincing reason for being away from the Event Center. He was lost. Looking for a bathroom. Needed to make a private call. He wouldn't panic, and he wouldn't bolt. Especially out an alarmed exit.
"If no alarms in the office were triggered," Peter continued, "How did security know which office had been hit?" There hadn't been time to check all forty businesses, but of course, a diamond exchange would have made the top of Peter's list, too.
"During the initial sweep, security found a central heating register partially detached in the maintenance room on this floor. When they checked the offices, they found the safe open. Crawford nearly had a heart attack when he entered the room. He verified the diamonds were missing from the safe."
Although it was very likely Neal had committed the crime, the execution was sloppy. In fact, the entire plan was sloppy. Why set his anklet to loop; a perfect alibi to put him somewhere else at the time of the crime, and then walk in the front door and be caught on security cameras? Accessing the building from the roof was much more Neal's MO. Only six floors, there were taller buildings in close enough proximity for Neal to have done a bit of zip-lining to reach it. It not only would have been more discreet but would have been much more exciting, which in the world of Neal Caffrey, was also a factor to be considered when devising a plan. With that entry, and abiding by basic Robbery 101 rules, he could have stolen the diamonds without anyone being the wiser until the next time the safe was opened.
Neal had not only let his face be caught on security footage, but he'd left a trail of crumbs showing exactly how he had committed the crime. Dislodged register in the maintenance room told security what floor to check and his means of entry; the safe door left open gave them his target. He might as well have rented a billboard outlining his plan and dialed 911 himself afterward. Even though most everything in Neal's personality screamed look at me, his crimes never did.
"It's pretty much cut and dried," Bradley was saying, "we know what was taken and by whom and there is plenty of evidence to make the case. We even have footage of Caffrey using a stolen badge to get into the security office. We just have to find him, hopefully before he can unload the diamonds, and take him into custody. Since you are supposed to know him better than anyone else, maybe you can help with that."
At that moment, Detective Johnson, having finished his call, burst into the conversation. "We don't need help from Agent Burke or anyone," his glare took in Jones before settling back on Peter, "at White Collar."
The man was clearly upset; his eyes were blazing with fury. Peter wasn't sure what had set him off, but something had. "Detective Johnson," Peter began, "Caffrey is my responsibility and therefore-"
"Therefore you should have notified the Marshal Service when you realized his tracker had been tampered with instead of sitting on the information." At Bradley's confused look, Johnson elaborated. "According to the Marshals, Burke here has been logged in to their site checking Caffrey's tracking data since three-thirty this afternoon. Not only that but our techs say that the White Collar office has already dumped Caffrey's phone and ran his aliases through the database to see if any of them had been used for car rentals or plane tickets. They knew he was off the reservation and, for whatever reason, chose to keep that information to themselves."
"It wasn't like that," Peter protested even though it was exactly like that, "and there was no they, it was me." He didn't want this landing on Jones; the man had told him to call from the very beginning."I was simply trying to determine what had actually happened. I was just about to call the Marshal Service when my SAC filled me in and sent me over here to help."
"Like I said," Johnson said, "The time for helping was hours ago. If you had followed protocol, this robbery might never have happened. You know half the security staff is off duty NYPD, don't you? Caffrey would have never made it through the lobby if you had done your job. Now, who the hell knows where he is, and with six million in diamonds. I want you off my crime scene."
Being ordered out by the NYPD did not set well with Peter. He understood they were unhappy about his deviation from protocol, but Neal was his CI, and Hughes had ordered him here. He didn't intend to leave.
"Special Agent Hughes ordered me here," Peter informed him, "and Caffrey is my responsibility. So I am here until my boss tells me otherwise."
"Well, I'd expect that call any minute now if I were you," Johnson snapped. "My boss is on the phone with your boss right now, lodging a formal complaint."
"I chased Neal Caffrey for three years," Peter told him, "and I'm the only one who's ever caught him. You won't find him without my help."
"I don't need your help to do my job," Johnson retorted angrily, "and I want you out of this office and off these premises."
Before Peter could further protest, his phone rang. Caller id identified Hughes as the caller, and a satisfied smirk settled on Johnson's face. The two men locked stubborn gazes through three full rings before Peter relented and answered his phone.
"Burke." His voice was terse.
"I just got off the phone with Captain Ramsey at the 105th." Realizing that the conversation was not going to be a quiet one, Peter turned and took a few steps away from the others. "You knew Caffrey was off his anklet and didn't report it!" Hughes bellowed in his ear. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"Sir," Peter began, "I was-"
Hughes had asked what he was thinking but didn't wait to hear his answer.
"Captain Ramsey has lodged a complaint against you," he said. "I hope I can convince him to keep our office in the loop, but right now we'll be lucky if they copy us on the report." He thundered. "And the Marshal Service is demanding a full investigation into your actions as well; I'm expecting a call from ORP any minute." He paused, and Peter heard a tired sigh. "Caffrey isn't the only one who's screwed up, Burke," he said. "You better hope they find him, and the six million dollars in diamonds or you could lose your badge over this."