Chapter 1: The Con That Never Was

Federal Building, New York. Thursday, July 28, 2005.

What's wrong with this picture?

When Peter got off the elevator on the twenty-first floor of the Federal Building, he paused at the entrance to the bullpen to analyze the scene in front of him. He'd learned long ago that hidden puzzles could be anywhere. When he was a child, his mom used to challenge him with drawings where something was out of place. She'd ask, What's wrong with this picture? It was a game that quickly became a habit.

And today he found a puzzle. Neal had rolled his desk chair next to the desk of Agent Clinton Jones. The two appeared to be engaged in a serious discussion as they pored over printouts of spreadsheets. On the surface, there was nothing strange about that. But from the snippets he overheard, the topic was an unlikely one. Identity fraud was not normally on Neal's radar screen.

For Jones it was understandable. He'd become the White Collar specialist on the burgeoning crime problem. A few weeks ago, he'd gone to D.C. on a special training assignment. The sharp rise of reported incidents made it a high-priority issue.

But forgeries and art crimes were Neal's bread and butter. For anything else, he'd developed avoidance into an art form. If Neal was interested in identity fraud, there had to be an angle.

Peter approached the pair. "Nothing wrong with Nick Halden's credit card, I hope," he asked, referencing one of Neal's go-to aliases.

Neal smiled. "Nick's safe, but my cousin Angela is nervous. She called me from Shepherdstown, West Virginia. That's the location of Shepherd University where she's doing her fieldwork this summer. Several of her college friends have had their identities stolen, and she's concerned she may be next."

Shepherd University was about an hour's drive from D.C. Angela was spending the summer working with underprivileged kids on a project sponsored by the Global Education through Music Initiative, a nonprofit Neal's cousin Henry also volunteered for.

"I looked it up in our database," Jones said. "We've been crunching the numbers. The Baltimore and D.C. areas are experiencing an unusually high incidence of cases."

"When did it start?" Peter asked as he picked up one of the printouts.

"Around three weeks ago. It makes me wonder if an organized crime group has set up shop in the area."

"Perhaps I should ask Diana to check with her newfound best buddy, Agent Ruiz," Neal said, glancing at her desk. "She's probably at lunch with him now."

Joseph Ruiz was currently the acting head of the Organized Crime section, a position he wouldn't hold for much longer. He'd been discovered to be leaking information to the fugitive hedge fund manager, Vincent Adler. So far no action had been taken against him since White Collar intended to use him to transmit false reports to Adler.

Ruiz was trying to recruit Diana for Organized Crime. His interest in her was not purely business-related. Ruiz had been hinting for several months he'd like to go out with her even though he knew she was already in an established relationship. With the full blessing of her partner Christie, Diana was taking advantage of the opening she'd been given. She'd informed Peter she was going out to lunch with Ruiz today—her second in a week.

"Three of Angela's friends in Shepherdstown have been hit over the past two weeks," Jones added. "A local eatery may be playing fast and loose with credit information."

"Angela's paying with cash whenever possible," Neal said. "The Bureau's prepared a pamphlet on protecting personal information which I'll send to her."

As Neal started to stand up, Jones stopped him with a gesture. "Before you take off, I have a question for both of you. This weekend I babysat my nephew Ethan. He can't stop talking about all the fun he had at astronomy camp. It's been over a month. I would have thought he'd have moved onto something else. Instead, he keeps asking me if it's June yet so he can go again. You guys made quite an impression."

In June, Columbia University's astronomy department sponsored an astronomy camp in western New Jersey. Peter and White Collar's tech expert Travis Miller led the camp with Neal and Mozzie helping out. The camp was a success despite some scary moments.

Although Peter couldn't confirm with one hundred percent accuracy that Neal was a vampire magnet, the signals all pointed in that direction. Since the spring they'd gone on three road trips. During two of them, they had to contend with vampires. No vampires on the third trip, but a witch nearly sent them up in flames. At astro camp, Ethan and a young girl wandered off just as vampires showed up at the park. Through quick work, Neal managed to keep them safe, and the kids were never told who their pursuers were.

Worrying about which criminals from Neal's past might return to cause mischief had become routine. Peter was now forced to add supernatural beings.

He glanced over at Neal and saw a half-smile playing on his lips. After much soul-searching, Peter had decided to keep the supernatural incidents out of the Bureau files. Neal argued that in the interest of full disclosure, they should go ahead and inform the rest of the team. But if they did, they'd also have to inform Hughes. Peter knew in advance what the reaction of the Special Agent in Charge would be. He'd order Peter to undergo an extensive evaluation with a Bureau-approved psychiatrist.

Peter had done his due diligence. He'd checked the Bureau files for any records of vampires or witches. The few times an agent had reported a paranormal event, they'd gone back later to recant their findings.

It was his considered opinion that the encounters he and Neal had experienced didn't fall within Bureau jurisdiction. He'd filed a report about the Dutchman which was accurate as far as it went. The demonic bits were unnecessary and did nothing to explain what had occurred.

"Kids and their stories!" Jones said, rolling his eyes at Neal. "Ethan told me an incredible tale of how he and his girlfriend Amita"—Jones paused to snort—"Girlfriend! The kid's only seven years old."

"He takes after you," Neal said. "A natural-born lady-killer."

Good. Keep it up. Distract him. Maybe he'll forget his question. "How is Helen?" Peter asked, keeping any hint of desperation out of his voice. "Is the D.A.'s office treating her well?"

Neal's smile broadened. He knew what Peter was doing. Deflection worked for Neal. Couldn't it do the same for him? His mention of Jones's girlfriend should veer the conversation onto safer ground.

He was so tempted to say he had to leave for a meeting. But if he did, could he trust Neal not to divulge anything? Neal had returned from camp feeling quite smug at having eluded a pack of vampires. The fact that the time he encountered vampires in a southern New Jersey swamp he hadn't been so lucky was apparently long forgotten. But Peter remembered all too vividly the sight of Neal and Sam stretched out on tables with their blood being siphoned into beakers.

"Helen's fine, thanks," said Jones blandly. "Ethan told me he and Amita hid out in a cave Neal discovered after they were chased by Long John Silver and his fellow pirates. Ethan said the pirates ran so fast, they were just a blur."

Peter hoped his laugh didn't sound forced. "What an imagination!"

"Neal, I knew you were a great con artist, but I didn't give you enough credit," Jones said. "Ethan described to me how serious you were. You convinced them there were pirates. Hiding them in a cave, leading the bad guys away—you gave them the adventure of a lifetime."

Neal's smile became a little tenuous. He had been nearly frantic with worry about the kids' safety. Now Peter wasn't the only one trying to change the topic of conversation. But Neal didn't have any better luck.

"Who were those two guys—Dean and Sam?" Jones asked. "Up to now, Ethan's only ambition was to be a pirate. Now he wants to be a hunter just like Dean. What does Dean hunt? Deer? Big game?"

"Something like that," Peter said. Surely the Winchesters hadn't mentioned to any of the kids that they hunted monsters. But then kids have sharp ears. Ethan may have overheard something. Peter had a bad feeling. Jones had bulldog tenacity in researching a problem. He was the one who'd first alerted them to the Dutchman. If he only knew what really had happened to the Dutchman . . .

These were desperate times. Peter reached for the tried-and-true formula. Glancing at his watch, he shook his head regretfully. "Sorry, I'll have to leave you two to your research. I'm due to join a conference call." Neal's mocking eyes were burning holes in his back as he fled.

#

"You realize it's just a matter of time till they find out?"

Neal kept his tone low-key. He'd given Peter ample time for his fake conference call before knocking on the door of his office. But as his trusted consultant, it was incumbent upon him to sound the warning about upcoming minefields.

"I know," Peter admitted with a groan, gesturing for him to take a seat. "After the first incident, I hoped I could keep it quietly buried. Now we've had three cases in three months. Can another one be far off?"

"This isn't the first time Jones has brought it up. I didn't hear everything Dean said to the kids, but you know how snarky he can be. He may have teased them about werewolves or witches or referred to bloodsuckers. Ethan's at an impressionable age."

"Kids can remember the darndest things," Peter agreed gloomily. "I still recall every single detail of the cave my brother Joe transformed into Bigfoot's lair. I was about Ethan's age at the time."

"And we have a more serious issue to confront," Neal added. "The past couple of days I've seen Jones conferring with Diana about something. Whenever I approached them, Jones acquired a guilty look and clammed up. Diana's too good a con artist to reveal anything but Jones isn't in her league. If Diana is suspicious, you know she'll pursue it."

"But how could she know anything?" Peter protested, clinging to a sliver of hope that was dissolving before his eyes. "She hasn't been involved in any of the cases."

"Travis was with us at camp and he made it clear he wouldn't hide the events from his partner. Richard returned from California earlier this week."

"If Diana suspects something weird happened at camp, she won't hesitate to grill Richard about it," Peter acknowledged. "This is more urgent than I realized."

"Exactly. You know Richard. His resistance to extreme interrogation tactics is nil." Neal hesitated. Should he bring up the Braque? How annoyed would Peter be?

Only a few days ago, he and Peter had been on shaky ground. Neal had finally confessed to having retrieved a painting by Georges Braque that he and the master art thief Klaus Mansfeld had stolen years ago. That painting was now key to the con to ensnare Vincent Adler and hopefully Klaus as well. Neal had hidden his knowledge about the work for months. When he finally admitted the truth to Peter, he'd been hurt and angry even though he knew Neal had been motivated by a desire to protect him. The experience had been an excruciating ordeal for both of them.

"You're thinking about the Braque, aren't you?" Peter asked.

Neal nodded. "I made you a promise not to keep secrets like that from you ever again. As I recall we talked at length about the harm they can cause."

"And I distinctly remember saying that little non-work-related secrets are permitted."

"But vampires and witches are now work-related, aren't they? Curtis Hagen, the Dutchman, has been possessed by the demon Crowley. Vampires were killed in New Jersey last month. So far the hunters have kept those deaths out of the police reports, but—"

"It's inevitable that before long exsanguinated victims will be discovered," Peter said, concluding Neal's sentence for him. "Vampires can only be killed by beheading. We can't count on hunters always being able to burn the corpses afterward."

Neal nodded. "Dean said vampire numbers used to be so small that the chance of discovery was tiny, but that's no longer the case."

Peter raised the white flag of surrender. "It's better Diana and Jones hear it from me. Tomorrow morning at the briefing, I'll let the witch out of the bag."

#

What did you find out?" Diana demanded of Jones impatiently.

This was her first chance to speak with him privately. Jones had been away from his desk when she left for lunch. When she returned, Neal had grabbed him to work on some identity fraud case. That in itself was suspicious. Was Neal deliberately trying to keep Jones occupied?

She'd finally resorted to texting Jones to meet her in the file vault. It was one area she felt reasonably confident that they'd be safe from Neal. But it wasn't bulletproof certainty. He'd been known in moments of extreme duress to overcome his antipathy toward the depository. Personally, she would have preferred the women's restroom, but she realized that would be a bridge too far for Jones. Someday she'd have to give him a lesson in covert maneuvers.

"Your suspicions were right," Jones muttered, casting a furtive look over his shoulder. "They're definitely hiding something. Peter's guilty look was the confirmation I needed."

"I knew it!" she crowed.

"I admit, at first I was sure you'd been spending too much time writing those Arkham Files stories. They were making you see monsters everywhere. When did you first suspect them?"

"It was after that long weekend Peter and Neal spent in Buttonwood, New Jersey. They claimed that Mozzie was sick. Hah! He never gets sick. He consumes gallons of some herbal honey wine remedy. Any bug would get trapped in sticky goo like a fly in amber." Diana allowed herself one quick shudder at the nightmarish image now searing her brain of Mozzie, along with multitudinous creepy crawlers, encased in a solid block of amber. "When I confronted Mozzie afterward, he claimed he'd rescued Neal from vampires. A tale of deceit if ever there was one."

"I remember. You quizzed Neal at the time and he gave you a cock-and-bull story about Mozzie being delirious."

"But not as farfetched as Mozzie the vampire slayer. When I overheard Neal joshing Peter about vampires afterward, I knew there was more to it. Neal resisted all my efforts to learn what was going on. You know how good he is at deflecting."

"The man's brain is a vault of secrets," Jones agreed "You might as well try to break into Fort Knox."

She nodded. "My only option was to outflank him. The breakthrough came when you told me what Ethan said about the pirates. Travis was at camp. I figured he must have told Richard what really happened."

"When does Richard get back from L.A.?"

"He returned two days ago. Richard's been helping me with creature design for my stories." She paused to let the brilliance of her scheme sink in. Jones was a fiend for proper office procedures. Fortunately, her writing counted as Bureau business since it was part of the strategy to take down a cybercriminal. And whatever happened in Buttonwood could very likely impinge on Neal and Peter's performance of their duties. Ergo, her snooping was completely justified.

"Richard's an investigator's dream," Jones said. "There's not a devious bone in his body. Considering what a good friend he is to Caffrey, you'd think a little guile would have worn off."

"Luckily for us, he remains uncorrupted." Diana permitted herself a wicked smile as she remembered the conversation. "I told Richard I wanted a creature for my stories who could run with preternatural speed in the darkness. We tossed around ideas from horror movies. I came up with werewolves. Guess what Richard suggested."

"Vampires?" Jones suggested, looking uneasy.

"Exactly! When I asked him how he knew they were such speed demons, he stumbled around, muttering it was common lore. Then I brought up what Ethan told you."

"How did he react?"

"He was horrified that Ethan might know what they were. He said the adults at the camp worked very hard to keep the kids from knowing the truth."

Jones's eyes widened. "There really were vampires at the park?"

"The way Richard acted, I'm convinced he believes it. He's from New Orleans. He grew up on voodoo and the supernatural. He'd believe anything. But Travis? He's a science-fiction fan, but that has nothing to do with vampires. How did they trick him?"

Jones didn't answer. His mouth had dropped open but no words were coming out.

"Snap out of it!" Diana ordered. "You don't believe in vampires, do you?"

Jones shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable. She held back her grin. She'd save teases for a later time. Striding over to the cabinet, she retrieved the folder on the art forger Curtis Hagen. "Did you have time to research the file?"

"Searched through the contents this morning," Jones said promptly, apparently relieved at the change of topic. "You know what a stickler Peter is for thorough documentation on each case."

She nodded. Just like you.

"This is one time that he didn't follow his own rules."

Diana snapped her fingers. "I knew there was something off about that case! Hagen disappeared from prison in May. That was on a Friday."

"Not just any Friday, but Friday the Thirteenth. It was the talk of the bullpen."

"I remember Peter took Neal along to investigate what happened. The next week at work, Peter was unusually vague about the case's status. When I asked him about it, he mumbled something about the inability to track Hagen down."

"It didn't feel right to me either," Jones said. "Peter pursued Hagen for years. All of a sudden he loses interest? But we had a backlog of other cases to work on. I assumed he was simply waiting for a lead." He rapped the file with his knuckles. "Now I know better. Peter filed an expense form for a weekend trip he and Neal made to Connecticut. The purpose was to check out a lead on Hagen."

"What did you discover?" she asked eagerly.

"They found him."

"What? And they didn't tell us?"

Jones nodded grimly. "They found Hagen in an old house in Windsor, Connecticut. He was imprisoned in a cell in a basement."

"Was a crime group seeking revenge?"

"Doesn't sound like it. The homeowner, a woman named Alcy Young, returned while they were trying to free Hagen. And get this"—Jones stopped to check no one was approaching—"She set the house on fire."

"No way!"

Jones nodded emphatically. "This was on the evening of May 15. The house burned to the ground. Peter and Neal barely managed to escape. Peter wrote that Hagen and Young were likely killed in the inferno but no confirmation has been found. There's no DNA or other forensic evidence."

"This doesn't make sense. Why didn't Peter tell us about it?"

Jones gave her a knowing look. "Maybe because there were two others present."

"Friends of the woman?"

"Don't think so. From the sound of it, they helped Peter and Neal escape. But Peter didn't mention their names. You know how he wants us to report every detail. Why would he omit something that important?"

This was weirder than Diana had dreamed possible. She racked her brain for a solution. "They may have been informants who'd worked for Hagen, and Peter agreed to protect their identities."

Jones shook his head slowly. "Then he would have included the explanation. But there's more. The day after Hagen disappeared from prison, Neal had the forensics lab analyze a hex bag. The bag came from the prison where Hagen was being held."

"What's a hex bag? Some sort of voodoo charm?"

"I don't know if it's used in voodoo, but normally it's made by witches to cast a spell on someone. It contains a mixture of herbs, talismans, and bones. If the witch wants to hex someone, she'll add a personal item like hair or a scrap of clothing."

Diana stared at Jones in astonishment. "How did you learn so much about witches?"

He scratched the back of his neck, looking flustered. "A buddy of mine in the Navy was a believer. He grew up in Charleston, South Carolina. Used to go to séances. Said he'd heard about a witch who used hex bags to cast spells."

"And you believed him?" she asked incredulously.

Jones cleared his throat and buried himself in reading the report on Hagen. "The hex bag contained a dried orchid, a Celtic coin, and a couple of frog bones."

"We have them!" Diana had to stifle the urge to chortle her glee. She scanned the report Jones gave her. "Hex bag, vampires—you realize what this means?"

Jones didn't answer for a moment. "They have proof that vampires and witches are real?"

"Oh, please." She stood back to eye him suspiciously. "Don't tell me you're part of the con, too."

"Of course, not! I wasn't sure how you felt about it. Didn't want to insult you."

"I'll allow there may be some who like to think they're witches. I've read about Wiccans and pagan revivals. But vampires? No one goes around claiming to be a vampire unless they're demented." She shook her head. "This has to be a con, and it has Neal's fingerprints all over it. No one else could design such an elaborate scheme. What I can't figure out is why? Was he simply bored?"

Jones nodded thoughtfully. "That could be it. You know how he and his cousin Henry like to play elaborate pranks. For April Fool's Day, Caffrey tried to trick Henry into believing June's house was haunted."

"I remember! Henry's superstitious. He believes in ghosts. Neal may want to prank him into believing in vampires and witches, too."

Jones shook his head with disapproval. "That's a low blow. There are a lot of unexplained phenomena. You shouldn't mock a fellow if he thinks he's seen a ghost."

Diana ignored the low-hanging fruit Jones was gifting her to focus on the matter at hand. She'd take up his superstitions at a later time. "What I can't understand is why Neal and Peter involved Travis, Richard, and Ethan in the hoax."

"Could it be part of the con to capture Vincent Adler? Maybe Adler believes in vampires. We know he's searching for a U-boat filled with art plundered by the Nazis. Adler's obsession may have driven him over the edge." Lapsing into silence, Jones settled on the edge of a stool as he considered. "In fact, Mozzie and I were having a conversation about this just last week."

"He didn't try to convince you that Adler has a secret lab to create Hitler clones?"

Jones shrugged. "That was last month. Now he has a new theory. In the final days of the war, Hitler was turned into a vampire. He then bit several of his key generals to turn them. Mozzie was trying to convince me that we could make use of that to take down Adler."

"Well, that sucks. Neal, Peter, and Mozzie are engaged in some devilishly clever con—Henry must be in on it as well—and they haven't included us? This has to stop now."

Jones was in full agreement. They decided to take advantage of the next day's briefing to demand answers.

Notes: In 2021, I revisited this story and expanded its content. Please note that some of the reviews no longer match the chapter references.

Introduction to Crossed Lines for new readers: In the pre-series Caffrey Conversation AU created by Penna Nomen, FBI Special Agent Peter Burke recruited con artist and expert forger Neal Caffrey in 2003 when he was 24. In exchange for a confession, he was given immunity for past crimes and started working for the FBI as a consultant at the White Collar task force in New York City. Sam and Dean Winchester are demon-hunting brothers. Sam is roughly the same age as Neal. Dean is four years older than Sam. Peter is fifteen years older than Neal. For those familiar with the Supernatural timeline, the action is set early in the second season of Supernatural. The Crossed Lines page on our blog has more background information about the series.

Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
Visuals and Music: The Dark Rabbit board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website