I apologize for the long wait. My compueter crashed, taking all my documents with it. So, I've been savoring what I could and getting organized on my new PC. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

Also, TAKE THAT bin laden! Rot in HELL! GOD BLESS AMERICA! And God Bless everyone fighting terrorism!

CHAPTER THREE

"As the old saw says well: every end does not appear together with its beginning."

March 11, 2011

4:00 AM

They were back in the CR-V completing the last leg of their journey down the eastern seaboard. They were now finalizing on their plan of action.

"So these people you know," said Peter, who was back behind the wheel. "Are you sure we can trust them?"

"I don't know them," corrected Neal. "I just know of them. And no; we can't trust them, but they don't know who we are. All we're going to do is go to them for new IDs."

"You make it sound like we're just going to the bookstore," remarked Peter. "Besides, what if our names and pictures get out on the news or something? They'll recognize us and probably tell someone that we aren't dead."

"It's a risk of the job description, Peter," said Neal. "And they wouldn't tell anyone. It's bad for their business. The reason for getting a new identity is because you don't want to be found."

"I know that," interrupted Peter.

"Well, I'm just saying that if these people go tattle-taling on their customers, they'll lose clients," said Neal.

Peter sighed. "I don't like this."

"You've already told me that. A thousand times by now I'm sure."

Peter glared at him but Neal pointed ahead. "Eyes on the road."

"We're the only ones out here."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't put it past you to run us into a tree or something."

"Okay," said Peter. "So we get new IDs and you start working on the passports. Do you know where you're going to get that equipment?"

"No idea," admitted Neal. "We'll have to ask around."

"Right." Peter continued. "And when we've got the IDs, we grab plane tickets to Germany. We'll start there to see if we can find connections he could use to hide stuff or himself."

"Looks like you'll finally be seeing more of the world," said Neal. "Maybe we'll stop by Sweden so that you can embrace that inner Viking of yours."

Peter smirked. "Sure."

"Oh, and you wouldn't happen to know any German, would you?"

"Nein."

"Thought so."

"Wait; don't tell me, you're fluent?"

"Not quite. But I know enough to get around."

"That's probably an understatement. Neal Caffrey, multi-linguist extraordinaire."

"You've hit it on the nose."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Great, I've tapped into your ego even more. All right then Mr. Master of All Languages, let's see how good those teaching skills of yours are. Teach me German."

So, throughout the drive, Neal got Peter started on his German. It wasn't in their plans to actually act like they were German, but it was necessary that they both know enough to fend for themselves if they had to split up at any time. Since it looked like they would be spending a good amount of time in Germany, Neal was only going to concern himself with teaching Peter German. Peter apparently had a little bit of a background in French, and most Europeans spoke more than one language anyway. Neal could've even let slide teaching German to Peter, except that he was being as careful as possible for this excursion; Mozzie would be proud. Also, a good way to get on people's good sides was to show respect for them. And one way to show respect was by addressing them in their native language. Peter knew this too, which was why he was so keen on learning.

Peter was a quick learner and had a good ear. Neal was only bothering with conversational stuff to start off with, just to get Peter's accent down and so that he would know the basics by the time they got into the country. They still had fun with it though, as they each took turns exaggerating the accent something terrible. But they needed the laughs. It had been a long few days.

By the time they reached Charleston, it was a little after eight. Neal was asleep and Peter was silently going over his newfound German vocabulary. The area was wide awake, though, as morning traffic filled the streets. Peter woke Neal up so that the younger man could direct him to the proper neighborhood.

Peter wasn't surprised when they ended up in a section of town that didn't quite look like old Antebellum Charleston. It didn't look unsafe, but definitely a little shady. They found another motel and once they were settled in, they walked through the neighborhood to where Neal knew of the ID man.

Peter followed Neal into a convenient store at the corner of a little intersection. They scrutinized the few rows of milk while another customer checked out. Once they were alone with the cashier they went up front.

He was a plump, disgusting looking little figure sitting on a stool with glasses just barely hanging on the end of his crooked and pointy nose. He didn't look like he had shaved in a while with scraggly hair going underneath his chin and down his neck. Without moving his head, he peered up at them with somewhat of a tested look. He already looked tired of any conversation they were about to have.

"What can I do for you boys?"

"We heard you do IDs," replied Neal smoothly. His hands were comfortably in his pockets and Peter slowly mimicked his style. He was beginning to realize that he would have to leave some of his agent behind in New York.

The man still didn't move, but just kept looking up with his eyes. He gave a heavy, weary sigh.

"You might've heard that, but that doesn't mean it's true, right," he said.

Neal shrugged. "We heard it from a reliable source."

"Give me a name and I might give you a new one," replied the cashier.

Neal rolled his eyes, like he was trying to stall. Peter began to wonder if maybe Neal had been stumped…though it was unlikely.

"Freddy told us."

The man leaned back and with a lunge forward (using all his strength) he stood up from the stool and smiled. "Good, good. I always trusted that ole Frederick. That's me, by the way." He held his hand out over the counter and they shook it. Neal opened his mouth, but Freddy interrupted him. "No, no, no. I don't want to know your names. We'll discuss that when we're making your new IDs."

"Sure," said Neal.

Freddy sat back down, suddenly looking tired again, and his eyes drifted back to whatever he was working on at the counter. "I'll be out of here at six this evening. Come back then and meet me outside. I'll take you where we can discuss everything safely."

"Sounds good," said Peter. "See you at six."

Freddy stared at him for a moment and then nodded. "Not going to buy anything while you're here?"

"We're backing your other business," said Peter. He turned and started for the door while Neal gave Freddy a reassuring nod before following his partner back outside.

"Sooo," began Peter. "Now for the part I'm really not going to like: we need passports."

Neal nodded. "You know everything we're going to need for passports after dealing with Lang and Keller. Today, or tonight, we need to collect the stuff."

"You mean steal it."

"I'm trying to use vocabulary that won't make you cringe."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Am I supposed to thank you?"

"Fine," said Neal. "Here's what we'll do: we'll start scouting around for the stuff until we have to meet up with Freddy again. When it's time for that, you go with Freddy for the IDs. I'll get started on collecting our passport equipment. Sound like a plan."

Peter actually smiled. "Yeah that'll work."

"Good, then let's get going," said Neal.

They drifted around the streets, stopping only to wander around places that Neal thought he could get equipment from. They scouted each place and Neal made plans of how he would get in and out. Some of it was simple enough—a distraction would be made and he would slip in and get what he needed and get out. Neal even said that some of the simplest equipment he didn't even plan on stealing.

"Really," asked Peter. "We have enough cash for that?"

"No," said Neal. "I was thinking I could just pickpocket cash from some people and then buy it."

Peter just stared at him.

"In fact," said Neal. "Maybe you should start brushing up on your pickpocket skills that Mozzie taught you. And lock-picking. You never know when they might come in handy."

Once again, Peter stared at him for a long moment, obviously trying to work out if that was actually necessary.

"Fine," he finally said. "But not today. Tomorrow."

Neal nodded, glad that Peter was naming the time. "There we go."

They spent the afternoon back in their motel room, pouring over a map of Europe they had bought at a bookstore. They were brainstorming for places that were linked to Adler in any way. They knew this would require some research though, and that would take time, but they were going to be thorough for their own efficiency and safety. Then, Neal explained the creation of fake identification to Peter, so that he'd be able to inspect the IDs once they were made. When the time came to meet up with Freddy, they split ways.

Neal went off to collect their equipment and Peter went to gather their IDs

Peter left Neal, hoping this all went over well.

Neal left Peter, happy to be traipsing Charleston all by himself and getting back to some old ways.

()()()()()()

Freddy was slightly disappointed when he left the store at and on the corner only stood one of the men he had met with earlier. And it was the man who had looked uncomfortable about the situation. Freddy knew that this meant it was someone who was going to be overly suspicious the whole time. The other man, the younger one, seemed very comfortable about it all. But Freddy never let himself underestimate anyone. The older man still seemed sure of himself, and those were the men who were dangerous. When someone was sure of what they were doing, even if they were in a situation they didn't like, then they really were capable of doing anything they decided to do.

"Where's your friend," asked Freddy.

"He's taking care of something," was the clipped reply.

Freddy turned around and waved his hand over his shoulder. "Let's go then."

Peter heaved a sigh and followed. They went into a neighborhood of shotgun houses, and after a few blocks, they finally went up to a house. But instead of going through the front door, they went into the back yard and entered through the back door. They came into a kitchen, where a young colored woman was cooking at her stove, with the radio on, relaying local news and soft tunes.

She looked up and gave Freddy a sweet smile.

"Hey, Freddy," she said.

"Hey, Lily Flower," said Freddy, his face lit up. Peter briefly wondered if Freddy was actually romantically involved with the woman, but was saved by the fact that a young colored man came in from the living room.

"Freddy, my man, haven't seen you around in a while," he said. They shook hands. "But I see things haven't changed: still pining for my wife?"

"Well, I only like the things I can't have," replied Freddy.

Peter just watched the exchange at his post near the back door. The woman smiled at him and outstretched her hand. "I'm Lily. I don't think I've seen you around before. You know my Julio?"

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Freddy. "Actually, this is business, Lily. I called Julio earlier…" He looked at the man of the house, who was now looking kind of annoyed.

"I know," Julio said. "And I'm pretty sure I told you not to bring him to the house."

"It's okay," said Freddy. "They're leaving the country."

"How did you know," blurted out Peter.

"Lucky guess," said Freddy. "You guys were holding onto your money and you have a different accent suggesting that you're from another region. So you left that region and you're getting out of the country via Charleston."

Peter shrugged. "You hit it on the nose."

Freddy smiled. "Thought so." He looked at Julio. "You cool with that?"

Julio glared, but muttered. "It's not like I have a choice now, anyway."

A baby wailed from the next room. "Go get Charlie," ordered Lily. "And put him in his highchair. Dinner is ready." She looked at Peter. "You're welcome to stay."

He almost rejected the offer, but realized it would be rude to do so. Not to mention, it was a free meal. He gave her a genuine smile. "Thank you. That would be nice. Can I help you with anything?" Elizabeth would be so proud of him.

She laughed gently. "No, you can just sit down."

So, Peter and Freddy sat down and Julio came in with his toddler son and set him down in the high chair. Soon, a nice dinner of roasted chicken and rice was on the table, and all of them were digging in.

"This is delicious," commented Peter. He almost said something about how Elizabeth made her chicken, but he bit his tongue at the last minute. He thought about what Neal might be up to at this time. He couldn't help but smile at the irony that he was enjoying a nice supper while Neal was working, for a change.

"And what are you smiling about, mister," asked Lily.

Peter blushed some at being caught up in his thoughts, but basically told the truth. "It's usually my partner who's eating a good meal while I'm out working. It's just nice to sit down, is all."

Peter was quiet throughout their dinner, letting the others talk. He gathered that they were rather close and had known each other for a while. Once more, Peter had to wonder how a seemingly normal family like Julio, Lily, and their toddler son would be tied into a criminal business of selling fake IDs.

After everyone was finished, Lily began picking up the dishes and Julio led Freddy and Peter from the room and into a basement. There, all the materials for creating the IDs were found.

"Alrighty then," said Julio, setting down at a desk. "There are two IDs, correct?"

"Yes," replied Peter.

"Names?"

"Paul and Matthias Hartley."

Freddy and Julio looked up at him. "Brothers?"

"Yes."

"What state do you want?"

"Pennsylvania."

"Okay, then," said Julio. He stood up. "You can stay here if you like."

"I will."

"Suspicious?"

"I just want to make sure it's being done right."

"You ever forged something?"

"Of course."

Freddy looked suspicious. "You don't seem the type."

"Don't judge a book by its cover."

Julio smiled. "Leave him alone, Freddy. As long as he doesn't mess with anything, I'll let him be."

So, Peter sat and watched, and learned firsthand about how to create a fake ID.

()()()()()()

It was midnight when Peter returned to the motel room. He wasn't surprised that it was empty. He then surprised himself in not being that worried about Neal. Neal would be fine; he was doing what he did best. Peter changed into his pajamas and went to sleep.

It was around three in the morning when Peter woke up to the sound of Neal entering the room. Peter flipped the lamp on and they looked at each other for a moment. The duffle bag that Neal had taken with him was full.

"I trust you got what you needed," said Peter.

Neal nodded. "And you?"

Peter set his hand over the two IDs on the bedside table. "Got em."

Neal sat down on his bed and inspected the IDs. "They're good. Nice job."

Peter shrugged. "Not like I did anything. I should be saying nice job to you."

Neal shrugged back. "They weren't difficult robberies to pull off."

Peter smiled. "Get some sleep."

They slept in that day and the next got to work on the passports, more German lessons, and brushing up on pick pocket skills. At the end of the week they were on a flight to Germany.