/* Monday */
The FBI team was sitting together in the meeting room for the regular morning briefing. Like every Monday, they recapped the leads they had been working on the week before and planned the activities ahead.
Since he has returned to the FBI, Neal did pretty much the same routine work day in, day out; research on reports and files. Hence, he wasn't spending much attention to the assignment of cases. Absentmindedly, he rubbed the scar at his forehead. He was thinking about the guy who had stabbed him with a self-made blade, created by rasping a broken bottle of glass in shape. That guy had been sentenced to some more years; Peter had seen to it that the incident had been prosecuted properly.
But that hadn't stopped Neal from waking up with a start time and again, after reliving that moment in this sleep. Right now, he felt too tired to show any interest in the team meeting.
Peter held a thin file in his hands. "We might have a new case. We've been tipped off that there is an insurance fraud involving art forgery underway. Jones, I need you to go through the NYPD reports of the last fortnight to look out for any peculiarity."
Jones was obviously miffed by the assignment. "Peter, I still have to question some witnesses of the jewelry heist I'm working on. Neal can analyze the NYPD reports. Art forgery is his area of expertise. Moreover, he is good at skimming reports and won't do field work anyway. Let him do the file shuffling."
Agent Burke's threw him a stern look. "Caffrey will stay out of this. I've assigned the task to you. Thus, I'm not going to discuss my decisions. Diana, I want you to check the entry records at the local airports. You will find the aliases to look for in this file. Please report directly to me. By the way, make sure that Organized Crime won't get wind of it."
Both of the younger agents exchanged puzzled looks. This type of routine activities was something you would shift upon a probie, or recently on Neal. Both of them had more important things to do.
The consultant has been working solely on cold cases lately. Therefore, he too, was musing why he hadn't been condemned to that dull task. However, he didn't really care and had forgotten the incident as soon as the meeting was over.
The day passed by uneventful. Jones grumbled while working his way through the stack of reports on his desk, but he ensured that his boss didn't overhear his silent bickering. He hadn't yet finished the paperwork, when Neal clocked off punctual to the minute.
Later that evening, Mozzie dropped in, trembling with excitement. He was carrying a small package, wrapped in brown paper. "Mon frére, this is too good to be true!" He fetched a glass to pour himself a glass of wine before he sat down at the table. He was dying to share his news.
Neal was amused. "Moz, I'd say sit down and join me for a glass of wine. Only, you already did. Why are you so excited? Did you find out the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffa?"
Mozzie was just slightly irritated by the distracting question. "Jimmy Hoffa? The CIA cut him a deal, whereby he spent his retirement years in Argentina. But that's not the point. This", he unwrapped the package, "will make a packet of money."
When the paper was unwrapped, a beautiful and decidedly old icon painting was unveiled. Probably, of Greek or Russian origin. The former art forger was intrigued. "That is marvelous. High quality, probably 15th century, could be a Rubljow or one of his scholars. Why is this expensive icon lying on my kitchen table?"
"I was hired by a complete schmock, lots of money but no understanding of art, to purchase a new masterpiece and make a copy of it. His wife owns a small collection of icon paintings. Apparently, they remind her of her late grandmother. When she grew up, her grandma had some cheap icons hanging in her kitchen back in some village in Russia. She married rich and convinced her husband to buy her an abundance of icon arts. I got this icon from a mutual friend to offer for sale."
"Mutual friend? Fencing art pieces? Is Alex back in town?"
Mozzie looked mysterious. "I'm not at liberty to discuss it. Wait, I haven't told you the best part, yet. Now, my client's wife has decided that she needs copies of the art pieces because she wants to admire them in her Manhattan apartment as well as in her residence in Florida."
Neal wasn't impressed. "So they commissioned you to copy the icon. That will certainly bring in some money, but I won't expect any riches for a simple job like that."
"Ha, I guess you've lost the touch after working for the Feds all those years. Otherwise, I wouldn't have to explain the obvious to you. We are going to make two copies instead of one. Neither he nor his half-wit wife will see the difference. I met her today. I tell you, it's going to be a walk in the park. Then, we can sell the original icon for lots of money. I'm sure, my clients will be enthralled by your replica, hence giving us the remaining pieces of their collection to replicate. And then, voila, we have a dozen or so masterpieces in our hands."
Neal raised his hands. "Wow, wow, wow. Hold it! My replica? I'm not going to get involved in this. I won't forge this icon, or any other icon. Go and find someone else. I told you before, I'm not up for cons right now."
"Oh Neal, come on. This opportunity is just too good to waste. Stop being such a bore! Adventure is worthwhile in itself!"
But his friend rejected categorically. Caffrey wasn't interested in committing a crime, as little as he was interested in solving a crime. He wasn't interested in anything at all.
Mozzie didn't cease to rave all evening about the extraordinary opportunity, the intellectual challenge, the fun usually involved in a con. Eventually, he left frustrated.
/* Tuesday */
The team met for the daily update on the current cases. Diana was the first one to report. "I checked the immigration records: Our suspect entered the country at JFK 10 days ago. He was accompanied by his wife and had stated a posh apartment building as his temporary address."
Burke was pleased with the news. "Jones, what have you found out?"
"There seems to be an unusual interest in Russian icons. There was an attempted heist at a private home in Manhattan, plus another one in Long Island. Both of them failed, though another one in Little Odessa succeeded. I'm still waiting for the details from the local police station, though I stay with it."
All of a sudden, Neal felt a weird tingling sensation on this skin. It might be just a coincidence, yet listening to his instincts had saved his life more than once. It might be worth to dig into. The con man was wary about volunteering to help, although after some struggle he made up his mind. "I could get in contact with the police and sort out the details, ask them to send over the complete file. Jones still has the jewelry heist to investigate."
His handler put the offer down politely but firmly. "No thanks. Jones has started to work this case; he will finish it. Let's get started."
Before Jones could even start to raise a complaint, the meeting was over; so he was once again condemned to desk research. He looked a bit sour. After Burke has left the room, Caffrey offered casually help. "Listen Clinton, if you need a hand I can fill in. It doesn't really matter which files I'm reading."
"Thanks, I'd appreciate the help. Only, Peter doesn't take it well if his express requests are ignored. You've had plenty first-hand experience yourself with having been read the riot act. Too bad, but I'd better hurry to finish my homework..." Jones grabbed the file and left the room.
Later on, he informed his boss that the con man probably had been hooked. Peter knew that Caffrey would set the pace. Now it was Mozzie's move, yet they had to wait and see how the con man responded before they could go ahead. Peter didn't really feel comfortable with the whole situation. Conning a friend was acting contrary to his principles. Admittedly, he still didn't see any other way to help his friend. Therefore, he had to go through with this. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
It was a first for Neal that he felt cut out from a case. Just a few days ago, he wouldn't have been bothered at all if Peter had excluded him from an investigation. Right now, he felt a little sting, mixed with a bit of worry, suspecting that Mozzie was somehow involved in whatever crime was going on.
At night, Mozzie came in to coax Neal once again into forging the icon. This time his pleading was more intense. "You can't let me down. I need your help with this one. I'm a bit pressed for time. Furthermore, there's no-one around who could do the job as good as you. In fact, it's quite difficult to find a forger who is even able to tell the difference between a Greek and a Russian icon, leave alone the subtleties involved with late medieval art."
His friend rejected the plea once again. Moreover, he warned the little man. "Moz, there is some investigation going on at the Bureau. I don't have any details. However, East European icons are involved as well as Russian criminals, probably organized crime. Maybe, there is more in this job than you've anticipated and you should back out."
The little man stared directly into his friend's blue eyes. "Neal, I beseech you for help. Please, don't leave me high and dry. Probably, you're right, this client isn't a schmock."
"Then back out!"
Mozzie turned towards the door. "I can't. It's too late already." He forced a strained smile. "Don't worry, I'll find a way. Like Einstein said: Reality is merely an illusion…"
Neal looked unhappy when he finished the quote. "… albeit a very persistent one. Moz, those people are dangerous, the logical consequence is to call it off! It's just not worth it."
His friend seemed secretive when he quoted Einstein once more. "Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere. I have to go, meet one of my contacts. See you around."
"Take care!" Sitting alone in his apartment, Neal felt cheap. It wasn't the first time that he had refused a job Mozzie hat offered him. Only this time, he sensed danger involved with the con - which his friend had to face alone this once. On the other hand, he didn't feel like forging a painting or conning a dangerous criminal. He was torn between this lethargy and concern for his friend. He paced through his apartment for hours but couldn't make up his mind. Damn Einstein!
His handler down in his home, in Brooklyn, wasn't having a restful night either. He was haunted by a recurring nightmare about himself, trying to catch a beautiful glass art object from falling. Each and every time he failed to save the sculpture, consequently it busted asunder in thousands upon thousands of pieces. He didn't need a shrink to read this dream, the interpretation was quite obvious. Even, if the dream wouldn't have been supplemented with a sound track in Neal's voice … "Trust is like glass. Once broken it can't be glued together."
AN:
Sorry, the upddate took so long. Thanks for your patience, once again...
The next chapter won't take so long, probably a couple of days.