Chapter Two
A few days later in the Manhattan White Collar office, Peter assembled a small team of agents in the briefing room. Looking around the room, he couldn't help feeling proud and a bit smug about the capabilities of his staff. His division, continually recognized for their outstanding work and winning track record of high-profile cases, was in his opinion, second to none among FBI field offices. The majority of his agents were seasoned, dedicated professionals with a few promising probie agents tossed in the mix.
"Okay. Let's cover the facts," he said. "Jones?"
Peter stepped aside. The lights dimmed as Agent Clinton Jones stood on his feet, moving to the front of the room, pointing to the image of five Hispanic men appearing onto the large projection screen surface.
"These men are the prime suspects in the Martinez Jewelry Theft Ring investigation. ATF agents in Richmond have been tracking these men across state lines for months. Run by Cleto, aka "Aleto" Martinez, he and his gang of thugs are suspected in the theft of approximately $4.3 million in jewelry. Their victims are primarily prosperous traveling jewelry salesmen who ply their trade up and down the eastern seaboard."
Neal, sitting near the front of the room, listened thoughtfully, interjecting with a brief sentence."They're also behind a rather daring theft in San Diego."
Jones swallowed down his quick prickle of annoyance at Neal's certainty, inclined to believe Peter's CI facts were correct. Leave it to Caffrey to point out some new piece of data, previously unknown, to the other people at the table.
"You're implicating them for an additional robbery, Neal? On the west coast?" Peter challenged, his eyes lighting with interest. He glanced at his partner as his lips pursed, considering the new information.
"Yes. I discovered the same M.O. in some obscure file I was looking at yesterday. The ones on unsolved jewel thefts," Neal remarked confidently. "A group of men conducted surveillance of a jewelry store and then robbed the sales courier. The courier was beaten severely, but his description of the assailants' matches our culprits, and several of Martinez' gang have relatives in that area of California."
Neal sat back, slouching slightly in his seat, lifting his shoulders and hands, peering at Clinton and providing a conciliatory shrugging gesture.
Jones took a deep breath, continuing his recitation. "These men are considered armed and dangerous, extremely mobile and enjoy using violence to accomplish their objective. It's alleged the gang has ties to several South American crime groups who've extended their operation beyond their own national borders. These groups, known for working in teams, steal gems, jewelry and precious metals from their victims."
"And now Martinez is here, busy working the streets of New York City," added Diana Berrigan.
"You got it," Jones answered. "We've noted several high profile robberies where a group of men followed the jewelry salesmen back to their cars or homes, smashing in windows for entrance and robbing victims at knife or gun-point. They always slit the tires, cut phone lines or steal cell phones to ensure a successful getaway. They're smart, do their homework and have a number of accomplices."
"Thanks, Jones." Peter placed his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly on the balls of his feet. "This has become a high priority for our office. We need to apprehend these men as quickly as possible. Some of you I'm assigning strictly to the task of street investigation. Go talk to your inside sources, pound the pavement for information, revisit the crime scenes. I want the rest of you to continue to research the files Richmond sent us. The mayor is breathing down the neck of our Assistant Director. He in turn wants results."
Peter paused for effect. "Need I say more?"
Only Neal held up his hand and nodded.
"Can it, Caffrey. We'll talk after the meeting. Okay, that's it people."
The group slowly filed out; Diana in the lead. Jones was the last one out the door, casting a somewhat disparaging backward glance at Neal. The conman smiled apologetically, folding his arms in front of his chest. He knew he was in for some good natured harassment later in the day. Clinton would be thinking up a tasty morsel of payback for the upstaging of his presentation in front of the boss.
Peter grinned, placing his hands in his pockets.
"What?" asked Neal.
"You know, you could've mentioned the California tip to Jones before the meeting."
"And spoil his reaction, Peter? It keeps him on his toes; he loves it."
"Hmm … we'll see." Peter frowned, looking over to the screen before continuing the conversation. "These men do their homework. According to the files, they've been in operation for over three years. ATF believes they've using New York fences. Do you think Mozzie would have heard any word on the street?"
Neal shrugged.
"Someone in this city is the go between," Peter continued, "re-selling the merchandise and coordinating the resale."
"You also have to consider the fact that whoever's the dealer or dealers may be melting down the gold and selling the jewels loose. Whatever way they've doing business, I assume there's an international buyer in their pocket as well …," Neal let his voice trail off.
"I want this bust, Neal. Martinez has been crossing state and national boundaries, thumbing his nose at the Feds. He and his cohorts aren't your highbrow white collar criminal aristocrat!"
Peter thought he caught a glimmer of pride in Neal's face and raised his eyebrows, pausing to give the conman a meaningful glance.
"What?" questioned Neal, once again.
Peter continued, ignoring the query. "As far as we know there's been no murder, as of yet, but the violence is escalating. He's got this inner circle of people we need to identify and shake down; the ones that have their hands dirty with theft, possession of stolen property and assault. Hell, I'm sure Martinez has a number of people just working on targeting prospective robbery victims."
"If we can zero in on one of them, maybe it will rattle some cages," said Neal. "I'll ask Mozzie to snoop around and see if he can pick up some names. His Spanish is pretty good too."
"Of course. Don't tell me… Rosetta Stone."
"Nope. Independent study involving online courses, pretty senoritas, and the noteworthy Mexican telenovelas."
"Mozzie watches Spanish soap operas?" Peter said, his tone of voice expressing some doubt.
"He thrives on the working-class melodrama, crime dramas and mystery thrillers."
"Crime dramas," the agent scoffed. "He uses soap operas to practice his Spanish?"
"Mozzie will tell you all you want-or don't want to know-about La Casa de al Lado. He's an avid fan of Telemundo. According to him, each character has a secret that puts you in doubt who is lying and who's telling the truth, who's innocent and who's a villain, who you can trust or mistrust."
Peter eyes narrowed. "Just up his alley. La Casa de al Lado…The House Next Door. Let me guess. Layers of intrigue with an evil law enforcement agent using his power to thwart the efforts of good-looking bad boy and quirky sidekick?"
"You'll have to ask Moz. But maybe that's why it was nominated as novella of the year," replied Neal, smiling with amusement. "I'm sure he'd be happy to discuss the intricacies of the show."
"Just ask him to listen for any talk on the street. And Neal …"
Neal lifted his head. "Yeah?"
"Tell him to be careful. These men are armed and dangerous. I have better things to do than go pull Mozzie's chestnuts out of the fire."
"Okay, Peter. I'll be sure to tell him you're concerned for his safety."
Peter answer was a withering look, brushing past Neal as he walked out of the conference room. Neal sensed his friend rolling his eyes.