Chapter Three

Peter had trouble concentrating on his work at the White Collar Office. All of his current team knew about his former CI even if they hadn't worked with him; Neal Caffrey was legendary. Jones, of course, had worked with Neal, and it was largely due to his stories that Neal's fame had grown. Jones had taken Neal's death hard; all of them had. He would probably be angry, just like Peter had been at first, to learn that Neal had faked his death. He would be angry with Peter too for keeping the secret. But his team would need to know. Again, it was a bridge he would cross when he came to it. Not this morning, but soon.

Although it was sure to be awkward personally and professionally for him, and equally awkward for Neal, there wouldn't be any legal issues with his return. When Neal had died, Peter had made sure that all the paperwork making him a free man was processed. It had been little comfort at the time but it was all Peter could do for his friend. His friends and coworkers had shaken their heads sadly at his insistence that it get squared away. Too little too late, he felt their eyes saying. He had felt the same but had done it anyway. Ever since he'd learned that Neal was alive, he had been glad he had seen it through. Neal Caffrey could come back if he chose to; Peter had just had his doubts that he would ever make that choice. He seemed perfectly satisfied living in Paris as Nathan Clay. But that impression had changed when he had seen him face to face; he might be satisfied, but he was not happy. Since that time, Peter had reason to hope.

Neal wanted to come home; Peter had seen it in South American and Elizabeth had said the same thing about seeing him in Paris. But he hadn't been ready for that then. Now here he was, bringing an opportunity to dismantle the Cordero ring to Peter and the FBI. Neal said he wasn't trying to earn his way back, but Peter was sure that on some level, he was. It was almost as if he couldn't come back just because he wanted to; he had to have some other reason. He was also sure that the challenge the job presented also was a motivator for his return. It was something Neal had clearly missed in his life as Nathan Clay.

He looked at his watch; it was just past ten. Finally time for him to head to the Waldorf. Neal was back in the city. Sure he was here as Nathan Clay, but he was here. They had a lot to talk about, and Peter couldn't wait to hear what Neal's plans were, not only for the case but for after as well.

Neal had said he's meet him in the restaurant, but when Peter entered, he didn't see him at first. Used to Neal standing out in any crowd, here he had managed to blend in remarkably well with the other rich yuppie diners. He was sitting at a corner table facing the door, reading a paper. His clothes were classy but casual; no pinstripes or narrow ties. His hair was messy and unruly, but Peter had seen similar styles in some of Elizabeth's artsy magazines, so he assumed the look was stylish in the world he had been living in. This was Neal as Nathan Clay, Gallery Owner, in the states looking to open a new gallery. When he looked up and saw Peter, however, the smile he flashed was all Neal Caffrey.

"Nice disguise," Peter said, pulling out the chair and taking his seat. "I almost didn't see you."

"This isn't a disguise, Peter, this is me," Neal answered, putting the paper aside. "Nathan Clay. Artist, Gallery owner and…."

"Successful businessman," Peter finished. "Yes, you told me." They were joined almost immediately and presented with menus. They ordered their drinks, and after the waitress' departure, Peter looked at the menu. He let out a low whistle and looked across the table at Neal. "Expense account, huh?"

"Yes, Peter," Neal smiled at him. "So order up."

"When I was paying the bills, you always ordered the most expensive item on the menu," Peter reminded him, looking down the list as if searching for the same. "Even if you didn't actually like it."

"That was rather immature," Neal's eyes twinkled. "I guess Neal Caffrey had a problem with authority; he liked to stick it to the man."

Peter chuckled. "Yes, and more often than not, that man was me." It was odd to hear him speak of himself in the third person. He had done the same thing in Venezuela. Peter studied his menu. "So, is Mozzie staying here or does he still have his own, less conspicuous, accommodations in the city?"

"Of course he does," Neal laughed, "But he's not staying in any of them this trip." At Peter's raised eyebrows he continued. "Mozzie isn't here, Peter; He should be back in Paris by now."

The waitress appeared again and took their order. Peter didn't order the most expensive thing on the menu, but he didn't order the cheapest either.

"Back in Paris?" Peter inquired, "Does that mean he was here?"

"No, he was much further south. He handled the logistics," He supplied, "and electronic supplies; he placed tracking devices in the shipment."

Neal had told Peter that he had been recruited to make good on the offer he had presented to Alberto Cordero four months earlier; to provide transportation for his product into the city. Elizabeth had returned from her walk before Peter had gotten any more details. That was the purpose of this meeting; to discuss things. He raised his eyebrows. "Tracking devices?"

"The shipment is divided into packages," Neal explained. "and Mozzie placed tracking devices in each one. Once I activate them and give the right people the correct frequencies, the packages can be traced to the distributors."

"And what happens to Nathan Clay when the Cordero organization discovers the shipment has been tracked?" He shook his head. "You might have skated in Venezuela, but this will seal your fate. They'll know it was you."

"They won't find out," Neal assured him, "Not if this shipment is used to trace the distribution routes and not take them out. If it's handled correctly, the entire network will be exposed, and you can take it out on the next shipment Cordero sends." He smiled, "One I am not handling."

Peter studied him. "What happens if someone spots the trackers?"

Neal smiled, "That won't happen; Mozzie handled that. No one will be the wiser."

Peter looked at Neal questioningly. "Cordero has reestablished his drug flow into the city, why would he come to you to move this one? That doesn't make a lot of business sense to me."

"Alberto likes me," Neal's smile was easy, "and felt bad that I lost my shipment when his villa was stormed; he just wanted to offer me a chance to make my money back."

"How very generous of him," Peter commented. Alberto Cordero was in prison, but money had its perks. Word was he still ran his operations from his less than luxurious accommodations. "So when is all this going to go down? How much time do we have to get things in position?"

"I need you to set up a couple meetings. The first one with someone from the DEA."

That wasn't exactly the answer Peter had been expecting. He wanted a place, a time, and the frequency he needed to track. The DEA would have to be involved eventually, but the Cordero organization was wanted for more than just drug trafficking. The Organized Crime Division had equal rights to it, and so did White Collar. Peter wanted the Bureau to be the lead in this operation; after all, as Neal had pointed out, he had a vested interest in seeing it through.

"The DEA?" He looked at Neal in surprise, then shook his head. "It's too soon for that. I'll go to Don at Organized Crime; we've been working together on this case. Once we get things set, we will read them in." Peter knew how these things worked; if Neal presented the deal to the DEA, they would run roughshod over the FBI and take over. He wasn't about to let that happen. "I know they need to be in the loop," he continued, "But the FBI should take the lead."

Neal studied him for a moment before answering. "The DEA, Peter, needs to take the lead," he said. "We will need their wider resources to make this work."

"I can pull in more men," Peter assured him, "And so can Don. Between Organized Crime and us, we can cover this." Again, Neal hesitated, his expression bringing Peter a sense of unease. He had something to say he knew Peter wasn't going to like. Two years hadn't changed that look.

"The shipment I am bringing in isn't just for New York; it's supplying two other cities."

"Two other cities?" Peter's fork stopped halfway to his mouth, and he looked at Neal in surprise. Leave it to Neal. "How big is this shipment, Neal?"

"Nathan," he corrected, "and it's big. That's why I need to meet with someone from the DEA." He held up a hand at Peter's objection, "This could bring down not only the New York connection but cripple the entire Eastern Coast operation."

The scope of what Neal was offering left Peter speechless a moment. He nodded. "Okay, let me call Agent Singleton and read him in. He has been working directly with the DEA. I can get him to set up a meeting."

Neal didn't answer immediately as their lunch was delivered. When they were alone again, Neal spoke.

"Thanks, Peter," Neal said, inspecting his lunch appreciatively. He glanced back at Peter in amusement. "It's not like I could just call up the DEA and tell them I had a present for them."

"I guess not," Peter said, "It will take a little explaining. You said a couple of meetings. Who else do you want brought in?"

"Someone who can legalize a document outlining my terms of service," he said easily.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Your terms of service?"

"There are always terms of service," Neal's replied mischievously, "Not the least of which will be a guarantee of immunity for any incidental crimes I might have to perpetrate in the course of this operation."

"You actually asking me for a Get Out of Jail Free card?"

"Nope," his eyes twinkled with amusement. "I need a You Won't Go To Jail at All card. And I will need that before I give any additional information."

Peter leaned back in his chair. "We can give you a pass on the trafficking charge since you are doing it as part of an undercover operation. Any other crimes I need to be aware of?"

There was a flicker in Neal's eyes, and Peter knew there was something else. "I just like to cover my bases," he said, his smile easy "Just in case something unforeseen comes up."

"Unforeseen?" Peter asked, studying Neal closely. "What are you not telling me?"

"I have to take part of the shipment to another location, outside the city."

Peter thought that Neal's plan was only to bring the tagged shipment into the city. Organized Crime Division, who had been working on buying their way up the supply chain for the past four months, had only gotten up a couple levels. Even the undercovers they had managed to work into the organization were low men on the totem pole and had little access to information. The shipment would give access to the hierarchy of the drug trade. With the information they could gather, they would then be able to launch a series of investigations, hopefully resulting in the demise of the organization.

Neal transferring the shipment to the top traffickers in New York was dangerous enough; doing the same thing in another city would double his risk. And outside New York, Peter's ability to keep him safe would be severely hampered.

"Dammit, Neal," he said under his breath-Dammit Nathan just wouldn't come out of his mouth-"Let me guess," he said, "Philadelphia?"

"Of course," Neal confirmed, with a smile. "The City of Brotherly Love." He glanced at Peter's food, still untouched. "Eat your lunch, Peter. Everything's going to be fine. I have things worked out."

Hence the reason he had spent several days in Philadelphia; he had been working things out. Even though Neal acted as if the added aspect was no big deal, It did nothing to remove Peter's concerns. He now had a lump of dread taking up space in his previously empty stomach. "I can't protect you in Philadelphia."

"I don't need you to," Peter could tell this was a touchy subject; Neal had tensed even though his voice had remained calm and steady. "I'm not your responsibility. I'm not your CI anymore, Peter."

He didn't point out that by bringing information to the FBI, Neal had reprised the role, and it was his job to protect him. Neal obviously didn't want to hear that so he let it ride. "Okay," he said, "But you're my friend; I want to make sure you're safe."

He hoped his honesty would reach Neal. He, of all people, should understand the lengths one would go to keep a friend from harm.

His hope was realized; Neal's posture relaxed. "I understand, really I do," Neal replied, "and I appreciate it, but the best way to do that is by setting up these meetings for me." His eyes met Peter's, "Me as in Nathan Clay, Peter, not Neal Caffrey."

"There wouldn't be any legal repercussions," Peter ventured, "coming back as yourself. After you-" Peter stopped, "left, I made sure all the paperwork went through as promised. I told you this before; Neal Caffrey is a free man."

"Neal Caffrey was never a free man," There was a sharpness in his tone before he adjusted it. "I know we'll have to disclose some information to explain why I am here now, but I don't want anyone knowing who doesn't have to." At Peter's questioning look, he added, "No one. I'm not ready for that and I don't need the distraction."

That was an admission he wouldn't have ever expected; Neal Caffrey admitting to not being ready for anything. He had told Elizabeth that being back in New York had to be strange for Neal but maybe he hadn't realized how strange it actually was. As much as Neal wanted to come home, Peter was beginning to believe that there was a part of him that still wasn't ready. He suspected Neal was involved in some internal tug of war, and the outcome was still to be determined. Maybe, when this was over, Neal would be willing to talk it through with him. He would like to weigh in on that decision. But right now, he agreed with Neal: he didn't need the distraction. He needed to focus on the task at hand.

"Okay," Peter replied, hoping to put Neal at ease by granting his request. "The meeting will be with Nathan Clay, and I promise, no one will know who doesn't have to know."

"That's all I ask," Neal said, rewarding Peter's reassurance with a smile. His next words almost caused Peter to choke on his tea. "You know me, I try to keep things simple."