Chapter Twenty-one

"Touching." Eden's tone matched his expression as he took the phone from Neal and placed it back in his pocket. "I thought Neal Caffrey wasn't the sentimental type."

Neal didn't regret his words to Mozzie, but he did regret how close he'd come to breaking down as he'd said them. That was unusual; normally he was better able to keep his emotions in check, but as the call had ended, he'd suddenly felt close to tears. He guessed it was a combination of factors, his physical and mentally depleted state, as well as the information Mozzie had passed him about the arrangements for the upcoming meeting. He'd managed to get a grip, swallowing hard, but hadn't trusted his voice to say anything further. He'd simply ended the call, then looked up to see the mocking face of Terrence Eden.

"He isn't," Neal regrouped quickly, "But Mr. Haversham has been a good friend; to both of us. Because of him, you're getting over a million more for your diamonds than you'd gotten otherwise. When can I see the boy?"

"Soon enough," Eden told him, making his exit from the small room that had become Neal's cell. "I have a few things to wrap up and some travel arrangements to make. But I'll have someone take you to see him a little closer to meeting time. And they'll also be there to make sure you hold up your end of the bargain."

He left, and Neal heard the padlock being put back into place. The bargain he was referring to was the one he had struck with Eden only moments before he'd made the call to Mozzie. He'd lain awake on the cold floor most of the night, hoping to hear a commotion outside that indicated that Peter had followed the clues he'd left and had tracked them down. But it didn't happen. Even though his ordeal had been going on for days, he had to remind himself that Peter had only been on the case a few hours and Eden was good at covering his tracks. Otherwise, he'd have been locked up long before now. Of course, he'd never been on Peter Burke's radar. Once that happened, it was just a matter of time. He always got his man. Neal knew that from personal experience.

But he knew it might take more time than he'd hoped and time wasn't something he had a lot of. Or more to the point, something the kid had a lot of. His chances of living, though his quality of life might be less than appealing until Peter tracked them down, was much better than the kids. He only had hours before Eden would be leaving the city and deciding whether to kill him or let him go. Neal knew Eden well enough to know he never let anyone go.

By the time morning came, he had come up with a plan. He would convince Eden to let the boy deliver the diamonds to the seller. That way, if Peter hadn't found them before then, the kid could walk into the meeting instead of him. It might not be who Peter expected to see, but if he'd gotten the message, he would realize who it was and play along. At the end of the day, the kid would be away from Eden and safe, and Peter could use the fund transfer to track down Eden. All he had to do was bide his time until Peter could find him.

But that plan now had some drawbacks. According to Mozzie, it was the Marshals and not White Collar that would be waiting for him at the meeting, and when he'd said that sudden moves would not be his friend, it was his way of saying don't do anything to make them shoot you. That didn't sound like an operation to rescue a kidnap victim; it was more like an operation to apprehend an escaped felon suspected of stealing millions of dollars worth of diamonds. There was only one reason Peter would step aside and let the Marshal Service take him; he must believe Neal was guilty of the crime and had decided to wash his hands of his CI altogether.

Even though it caught him off guard, Neal knew he really shouldn't be surprised. Peter had put up with more, covered up for more, than Neal had ever expected him to. He'd known Peter would be angry when he got the news about the robbery and would take the perceived betrayal personally, but he'd expected that to translate into a determination to be the one to catch him and bring him in. Neal never considered his response would be to step aside and let someone else take over.

But if that were what he'd done then he'd never talked to witnesses or seen the footage from the lobby of the Danford Building. He didn't know Neal had been forced to steal the diamonds. He didn't know about Terrence Eden, Bradford & Donnelly or that Eden had a hostage. He wasn't investigating the case, looking for clues or trying to anticipate Neal's next move. Neal hadn't realized how much he had been counting on Peter finding him until learned he wasn't even looking.

Strangely enough, it wasn't that he'd put his faith in Peter and Peter wasn't coming that had shaken him; it was that Peter had lost faith in him. As many times as he'd deserved it, expected it even, it hadn't happened. In spite of his past and the stupid things he sometimes did, Peter had never seen him as a lost cause. He'd yell, threaten and berate, but he'd never walk away. Until now.

Neal felt an ache in his chest and a lump in his throat. He'd felt it when he talked to Mozzie but this time, he was unable to swallow it. He crossed the small space and sat down on the sleeping back, his back against the wall. Gingerly, he pulled his knees up to him and rested his head on his arm. His face hidden, the hot tears he'd fought back earlier now began to spill from his eyes and he was unable to stifle them.

He had lost everything that mattered; everyone that mattered. Peter, Elizabeth, June. Even Mozzie if Eden took him back to Chicago. He'd never want Mozzie anywhere near that man. He had made New York his home, and it had even begun to feel like one. He loved the view from his terrace and his morning jog through Riverside Park. Working at the White Collar with Peter, even with the paperwork, mortgage fraud cases and being stuck in the van with Jones. He had a life here, a real one, with people he cared about and who cared about him. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged somewhere. But now, all that was over. He had nothing. Terrence Eden had taken it all away.

His shoulders shook as wave after wave of despair swept over him. He buried his face tightly in the crook of his arm, trying to muffle the sounds of his distress. Hopefully, Eden had moved away from the door; he couldn't bear the humiliation of the man seeing him crying like a heartbroken kid. But that was exactly how he felt. Heartbroken.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Mozzie arrived at the Burke house ten minutes ahead of schedule. Usually one for punctuality, in normal times he'd have waited until the precise time he'd promised to knock on the door. But these weren't normal times. He stepped up and rapped insistently on the door. He had no doubt that those inside were eagerly anticipating his arrival and would overlook his departure from his usual decorum.

He was greeted by Elizabeth, by far his favorite of the Suit family. "Mrs. Suit," he greeted politely.

"Mozzie," she returned. Her invitation to enter consisted of a nod in the direction of the Burke dining room. Mozzie stepped past her and saw that the Suit and the Junior Suit were already assembled at the dining room table. Both had computers set up. Mozzie looked suspiciously about the room, but Peter had been true to his word; there were no Federal Marshals lurking about.

"Did he call?" Peter asked impatiently, rising from his seat. "Do you have the meeting arrangements?" He hadn't even waited for Mozzie to get out of his coat.

"Of course, he called," Mozzie replied, pulling off the light jacket he was wearing as well as his cap. "And yes, I have the meeting arrangements." Before he handed Elizabeth his jacket, he extracted a folder piece of paper from the pocket. She took both his coat and hat and hung them on the hall tree by the front door.

"But I have to say," he continued, eyeing Jones distrustfully as he moved across the room, "speaking with him did nothing to ease my earlier concerns about this plan of yours."

"Well, there's been some significant developments since we talked last night and earlier plans have changed," Peter informed him. "We are in the process of making new ones. So, what did he say? How much time do we have?"

Mozzie was about to ask the nature of the developments, whether they benefited or worsened things for his friend when he saw the image on the computer open on the table. It was Neal, and he didn't look good.

"What happened to his face?" He didn't really need to ask; he'd seen the results of a beatdown before. He knew Neal was in trouble, but a visual confirmation was more than slightly distressing. Especially in light of Neal's parting words to him only minutes ago.

"He's okay, Mozzie," Peter assured him, "just a little banged up but otherwise fine. What are the arrangments? When and where is the meeting?"

Mozzie pulled his eyes from the computer with difficulty, then unfolded the paper in his hand.

He told Peter everything about the conversation, describing the information that was given and received. He gave the time and location and disconcerting details of how the meeting was apt to go. "Both of those parks are huge, Suit," he explained, "with dozens of places, the meeting could be held. It's going to be impossible to secure the location. When the Marshals make their move to arrest Neal-" He shook his head. "Even if Neal doesn't offer any resistance, Eden might. Neal knows too much to just let him go."

"No one is going to arrest Neal, Mozzie; we're going through with the meeting, transferring the money, and slipping him a tracking device. Then we will follow him back to Eden."

Mozzie looked from one suit to the other. "And the Marshals are going along with that?" he asked. It seemed unlikely to him that, once having Neal in their sights, the Federal Marshals charged with capturing such an elusive man would just let him walk away. They had to be somewhat wary of tracking devices, after all.

"It's not up to the Marshals," Peter said, "Everything's changed. I told you, there have been major developments. This case is getting kicked back to the Bureau and we also have some compelling evidence to support our theory that Neal is being coerced. We even know how; Eden has taken someone besides Neal, and that is who Neal is trying to protect."

"Who?" Mozzie's shouldn't have been surprised; Neal had, after all, compared Eden to Ryan Wilkes. "And how do you know?"

"Neal told us, and that's not all he said."

"When did you talk to Neal?" Mozzie asked, his surprise now turning to disbelief.

Peter motioned to the computer screen where Neal's bruised face was still painfully clear. "I didn't," he admitted, "but he talked to me. How are you at sign language? Fingerspelling to be precise."

"Excellent, of course," Mozzie replied. "One never knows when non-verbal communication may be required. Why?"

"Pull up a chair and I'll show you."

Mozzie did as was bidden and Elizabeth brought him a cup of tea. He watched the video clip of Neal and of course, immediately understood what the Suit had been eluding to.

"He sent a message," Peter said as the clip continued to play, "before he disabled the cameras." He pushed a sheet of paper in front of Mozzie.

Mozzie read the words that were written there. "Bradford & Donnelly?" He knew that company by its reputation. "So Eden is some kind of cyber criminal?"

"Apparently so," Peter said. "Cyber Crimes in Chicago have been investigating him for over six months. And get this, Eden's partner is a former broker from Bradford & Donnelly."

"A disgruntled employee, no doubt," Mozzie offered.

"Cyber Crimes had gotten intel that Eden and McAllister were planning something big," Peter continued, "and now we know what it was. That's why this case is getting yanked from the NYPD and the Marshals; it's part of an ongoing Bureau investigation."

"Does that mean there will be a friendly face at that meeting today? Someone Neal trusts?" Mozzie knew it couldn't be Peter, having been suspended and all, but he was sure the sight of Clinton Jones, or the lovely Diana Berrigan would improve Neal's mindset considerably.

Peter glanced at Jones before answering. "That still has to be determined," he said, "but I guarantee whoever is at that meeting is going to be pro-Neal. Eden is the target and Neal is their best chance of getting him.

"I need to get down to the office for that briefing," Jones said, looking at his watch, "and boss, I think you probably should come too."

"I'm not your boss on this case," Peter reminded him. "and Agent Hughes told me not to show my face at the office; I'm not about to ignore another order."

"But that was before all this turned up," he waved at the computers on the table. "The fact is that you were right from the start; Neal wasn't trying to escape custody, he was kidnapped."

"Nevertheless, I still broke protocol and ignored Hughes order to stand down, and am suspended until further notice."

"Okay," A smile crossed the Agent's face, "how about coming along to the briefing as my CI?"

Mozzie almost choked on his tea. Agent Peter Burke relegated to the role of the Junior Suit's CI; Neal would so enjoy this turnabout. He sure hoped he'd get to tell him about it later. Perhaps over a chilled bottle of Merlot.

"Your what?" Peter seemed both surprised and horrified at the suggestion.

"You know," Jones explained with an air of patience, "a person who provides the insight or proprietary information necessary for the success execution-"

"I know what a CI is," Peter snapped, "I've had a few myself. I am not a CI; I'm am a Federal Agent and a suspended one at that, and" he stressed, "Hughes told me not to come back to the office until he called me."

"I'm just trying to save him a phone call," Jones defended, standing up and shutting down his computer. "Once I tell him about the message on the security footage he's going to ask why no one caught it before now. The Marshal Service and the NYPD are going to trip all over themselves making excuses, and Hughes is going announce that he's reinstating you and that the Bureau is now taking the lead on this case, courtesy of the Chicago Cyber Crimes Unit. Do you really want to miss that?"

Mozzie could see that the thought of being restored to duty in front of those who had demanded he be benched in the first place was very enticing to Peter Burke. He was surprised it took as long as it did for him to make up his mind.

"No, I don't," he stated firmly. He held out his hand to Mozzie expectantly. "I'll need that phone, Moz,"

Knowing this was coming and having already disabled his customized security measures, Mozzie didn't mind handing it over. Peter pocketed the phone, then turned to Elizabeth. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand, silencing him.

"Go, Peter," she ordered with authority, "go get your badge back and then go get Neal."

Mozzie hoped it would be that simple and that what the Junior Suit had projected actually took place. If it did, he had little doubt that Neal would be seeing a friendly face at the meeting. Knowing that was the case hopefully would remove the uneasy feeling he'd had ever since he's spoken to Neal.

"Yes, ma'am," Peter responded, giving Elizabeth a quick kiss on the cheek before following Jones to the door. Once there, he turned back. "Can you stick around, Mozzie, just in case we need you?"

"Certainly, Suit," Mozzie replied, more pleased by the request than he cared to admit. Having worked with Burke for less than eighteen hours, he could see how Neal had been drawn into Burke's web. In spite of his bullying and moralizing, Burke had a way of making you feel included; like you were a part of a something. When Burke had asked him to stay, he'd posed the question as if asking a friend for a favor. Even knowing it wasn't true, it had still brought an odd feeling of camaraderie, kinship even. He could see why Neal, having experienced that, would have a difficult time leaving it behind.

"Call when you have news," Elizabeth called after her husband, and with a promise that he would, he and Jones were off to the White Collar offices.

Elizabeth returned to the kitchen and emerged a moment later with a cup of tea. Although as lovely as ever, Mozzie could see she was tired as she crossed the room then sank into one of the overstuffed chairs. He'd left the Burke house near midnight, and Jones had yet to arrive. He wondered how long the work session had lasted before exhaustion made them call it a night. Mozzie, with cup in hand, took a seat on the sofa.

"Mozzie," she began tentatively, "what do you know about Neal's life before he came to New York?"

He wasn't surprised by the question. Terrence Eden was someone from Neal's past, and his appearance was bound to raise questions. From what he'd heard about Eden and what he knew about Neal, the two seemed less than compatible, but perhaps that hadn't always been the case. He had questions of his own. He just hoped he'd get the chance to ask Neal about them.

"Very little, actually," he admitted truthfully. "Neal isn't much to share personal information about the here and now much less about the past." It was true. Neal was very present oriented. Mozzie had gotten the impression that Neal's past, like his own, was best left where it was; in the past.

"Peter said you met him soon after he came here," she continued, not willing to let Mozzie off the hook so easily, "and he never said anything about Chicago or what he did there?"

What he did there? That set off warning bells; she was fishing for information. He knew from Burke that the night's casework had produced several breaks in the case, all revolving around Terrence Eden. Had Neal somehow been implicated in the man's past crimes? Had the Suit put his wife up to squeezing him for information over a cup of Earl Gray?

"The Earl Grey blend of tea is believed to be named after Charles Grey, the second Earl Grey," Mozzie said after a brief silence. "He was the British Prime Minister during the 1830's."

Elizabeth smiled at the sudden departure into tea trivia. "I'm not trying to get you to betray a trust, Mozzie," she assured him, "I'd never do that. It's just-" A pained looked crossed her face.

"Just what?"

"This man who has Neal," she began almost hesitantly, "Peter said that in Chicago he used others to commit crimes for him. Mostly kids that were in trouble, living on the streets or in bad situations. They needed help but instead of helping them, he turned them into criminals."

That was news about Eden that Burke had not shared. "Terrence Eden is a Fagin then."

He didn't bother to hide his contempt. In a system that placed children with the best of only bad options, he'd fallen prey to such a man himself. There were still times he wondered how different his life would have been had he been placed with a Rose Maylie instead of a Fagin. He thought back to when he'd first met Neal; he hadn't looked old enough to have a provisional driver license, much less be old enough to vote. But even by then he was confident, street smart and his skills finely honed. Mozzie had liked him immediately; it was like they were kindred spirits. And now he knew why.

"Yes, or at least he used to be," Elizabeth was saying, "and Peter thinks that's how he knows Neal, Mozzie, he thinks Neal was one of those kids."

Given the information about Eden, in tandem with how young Neal would have been when he lived in Chicago, it was more than a reasonable conclusion.

"I suppose he's cast Neal as Jack Dawkins in this modern-day adaptation of the classic?" The Dickens character of Dawkins was Fagin's most talented young pickpocket. Eventually nabbed, he was shipped off to an Australian Penal colony. Neal had only been shipped as far as Sing Sing, but the parallel still applied.

"The Artful Dodger?" He had to give her credit; Elizabeth knew her Dickens. "As fitting as the nickname may be, judging from Peter's restless night, I think he sees Neal more as Oliver."

Try as he might, he just couldn't see Neal Caffrey raising a bowl and saying, Please, sir, I want some more.

Still, if Neal had to be cast as a character in the classic, Oliver was the one to be. He had eventually been liberated from his hopeless circumstances. At novel's end, he had a home, a family and a place in the world. The thing every cast off child of the world coveted.

Unfortunately, that story was a work of fiction and Mozzie had learned that in real life, there were seldom happy endings.