/* Wednesday */
Peter, Diana and Jones were sitting in the conference room, staring at the large image of an icon, shown on the big screen at front. Neal wasn't invited to join them, but hey, when had this kept him off before? He felt a whiff of glee at the prospect of annoying his handler. He walked into the room and took a seat.
Peter was irritated. "Neal? We're discussing a case..." He waited, not willing to let out any more details. By all appearances, he was expecting the younger man to leave the room.
Yet, his consultant took a close look at the documents spread out on the table. "I've seen you, staring at the icon and was wondering if that's the stolen piece? It's not really rare or precious. I'd guess it's worth a couple of thousands. Why does the FBI investigates petty crimes? Whatever, perhaps I can help. I know a thing or two about icons."
Agent Burke turned the offer down. "Neal, that's not the point. This is an investigation under non-disclosure. I have to ask you to leave."
Neal flinched at the rejection. That came out pretty harsh. Not that he was eager to help his handler, but he needed to learn more about this case. Probably, Mozzie was involved. Plus, he wanted to protect his friend. It was more than enough if one of them had experienced prison.
Jones complained. "Think about it, Peter. Probably, he actually knows a lot about these icons and his help would save a lot of time. She wouldn't mind if he's working on it."
The senior agent shook his head. "She would, believe me. Yet, on second thought, maybe you're right... We're under serious time pressure."
Neal was curious. "She, who is she?"
His handler brushed the question aside. "Never mind. Tell me everything I need to know about these three icons." He displayed a slide show of 3 different icon paintings.
Neal saw clearly that the icon Mozzie had shown him wasn't among them. Only, he didn't know whether this was cause for concern or relief. "Two of them are Russian icons, one is of Greek origin. Probably, they're late 19th century. None of them is especially valuable. The first one has even a large tear at the top, definitely not worth stealing. Unless there is some religious value in it. What's the story behind it?"
"Someone has spread the news that he is looking for an icon painting and is willing to pay a high price. Now, half of the New York criminals are on the hunt for these paintings. But obviously, the client is looking for something special and is not satisfied with the plunder."
Diana chimed in. "To make things worse, we've heard rumors some smart-aleck is trying to rip off the customer. Probably, he is not aware that he's dealing with organized crime, some really bad guys who have killed wayward partners before without hesitation."
Neal feigned indifference, pushed his chair back and rose. "OK, I hope I could help. I'm going back to my own files. I don't want to keep you off from your work any longer."
Down in the bullpen, he tried to call Mozzie right away. When his friend didn't answer the phone, he sent him a text message to get in contact. Of course, he didn't know that Peter had already texted the little man to remain out of reach.
During the day, Neal called and texted several times, to no avail.
It was a shortly after 3 pm, when Agent Burke called the complete team in, including the Harvard co-eds as well as his CI. They were going to plan an undercover operation and as usually, this needed full back-up.
Peter addressed the team. "Here are the facts: Our prime suspect is Nicolai Orlov, husband of Tatjana Orlova, also referred to as Poppy. As a consequence, he's also son-in-law of Michail Lasarew. You might have heard of Lasarew who controls approximately 60% of the illegal arms trade in Eastern Europe. His son-in-law has specialized in insurance fraud.
Orlov's using different aliases, but his scheme stays unchanged. He gets in contact with a local representative of an insurance company to cover an art collection. He's not going for the big names in art, instead he chooses some special interest field. It has been medieval bibles when he hit in Zurich, Mughal paintings in Istanbul and Chinese lacquer-ware of the late Ming-dynasty in London.
He presents a genuine piece of art to the insurance company. The insurance company commissions an expert opinion to assess its value. Later on, Orlov requests insurance cover for the rest of his collection – which consists of counterfeits. Since there are not that many experts available on this special field of interest, Orlov knows where the pieces will be sent to. He breaks in to steal the pieces of art. The insurance company has no proof that the stolen goods are cheap forgeries, hence pays fair market value."
Neal could put two and two together. "It was Sara who tipped you off. They hit Sterling Bosch!"
Peter agreed. "Yes, that's right. They preyed on Sterling Bosch three times already. Sara suspects that they have a man on the inside. The sting they pulled in London is blamed on Sara. She had handled the customer and was the only one who was involved in all details. The expert who should assess the lacquer ware was killed during the burglary."
Neal could imagine how Sara felt about this. She would keep on and on until she had hunted down the guy who had deceived her. She tended to take these things personally...
The FBI agent continued. "So, now they are going to strike in New York, using Russian icons."
One of the probies asked about his plan. "We'll send someone in undercover. Orlov needs a front man who will approach the insurance company as well as someone who takes care of the forgeries"
Without any marked enthusiasm, Neal accepted the inevitable. "That would be me."
After all, Mozzie's life was at hazard, and Sara needed help, too. It might very well be that it was about time to quit desk work. He felt a bit annoyed by all the paperwork.
He was caught off guard by his handler's reply. "Nope, Jones will go in undercover."
The con man refused to believe it. "Seriously? How should that work out? How much does he know about Russian icon paintings? I'm the perfect con man."
His handler remained firm. "Yes, seriously. This is just too dangerous."
"I've worked for you undercover many times before. This sting isn't more dangerous than any other we have run before. And it's every bit as dangerous for Jones as it would be for me – except that I know how to act in a criminal environment without standing out like a sore thumb."
Peter didn't know how to put it into words. Finally, after drawing a deep breath, he started to talk. "Neal, you've confined yourself to desk work for many months. The last time you've gone undercover, has been more than 5 months ago. Look at you! You appear starved and slimmed down. You're physical fitness is below the requirements. We're dealing with the Russian mob, probably guns, serious stuff. I don't wanna risk losing you. Don't get me wrong. I'm supporting your idea to get back to the field. But let's start slow. Why don't you join Diana in the investigation of a fund-raising scam?"
Neal was fuming. "My fitness is below the requirements? I appear starved? I'm a pathetic wimp, that's it? Look at this! "He brushed a strand of hair out of his face to point at the pink scar running across his forehead. "Listen up! I haven't had any problems with my health or my fitness a few months ago. That was of course, before you've decided to dump me in prison. That was before you've decided to blame untenable accusations on me. Don't you dare patronizing me! I'm every bit up to my usual standards, certainly meeting each and every requirement this job will impose."
A deafening silence followed. The agents and probies avoided eye contact with Peter, staring elsewhere. The situation was awkward.
Finally, the senior agent spoke softly. "Believe me, if I could find a way, I'd take back those words that sent you back to prison. I don't know why I did the things I did. I didn't really mean to hurt you and didn't want to see you go. But it is as it is. I can't turn back time. Yet, I can prevent that more bad things happen to you. Therefore, I stick to it. You're not going undercover in the Orlov case. That's fact."
"Well, screw you!" Neal stormed out of the conference room, slamming the door. He picked up his Fedora and left the office. He didn't care about fixed work hours. Down on the street, he was looking for a taxi to go home. But then, he changed his mind and walked. He reaffirmed himself that he had been driving the last months just by chance. He still was able to walk the distance, doubting his physical fitness was outrageous. Being on the way, he decided to check out Mozzie's safe houses. Maybe, his worries were entirely unnecessary.
Back at the Bureau, Agent Burke had disbanded the meeting. Only Diana was still sitting together with him in the conference room. "Boss, this was pretty intense. Do you think he will be OK?"
"I should think so. At least, he showed some emotion. That's better than the former apathy." At least, Peter hoped this was true.
"You were fairly convincing. I would have believed Caffrey's not up for the challenge if I haven't known it's a farce. What will you do if he's going to follow your order?"
Her boss mulled over the idea. "Just as well. This operation is going to be dangerous. If he's not willing to overcome my opposition, he's not yet ready. I don't want to risk his life or safety; that part wasn't a farce."
Dusk was approaching when Neal reached home. He hadn't found any trace of Mozzie; the safe houses had been deserted and none of his phone messages had been answered. He was afraid, that after all, his worries might not have been ungrounded.
He met June when he entered the house. "Neal, you look worn out. Are you alright?"
After explaining the situation to her, he asked for advice. "Oh, I don't know. Most certainly, it's good to hear that you want to assume a more active role, start to take your live into your hands again. I was so concerned about your half-heartedness. Still, I don't know... Maybe, Peter is not completely wrong. Are you sure that your physical as well as emotional shape is sufficient? You mean a lot to me, I'm aware the last months have been difficult for you. I don't want you to get hurt even more." June hugged her tenant, tears misting her eyes; then she left him to his thoughts.
Neal was profoundly touched by this display of affection. Nevertheless, he was determined to induce his handler to change his mind. Life wasn't always about being safe. There was more needed than being safe to make the difference between surviving and living.
Right now, he felt bone-tired. However, it was not the usual chronic fatigue he had felt lately but exhaustion from wandering around for more than 4 hours.
AN:
Obviously, Peter had heard three days in a row Cher's song 'Turn back time' in the radio on his way to work. Therefore, some of the lyrics slipped in his mind when he talked to Neal...
Well, not really. It was me who happened to hear this old song all the time in the radio. Somehow, this seemed like fate wanting to give me a broad hint. And who am I to resist fate? Once again, no copyright infringement was intended.
Finally, I'm trying to allure you with 2 promises concerning the next chapter to stay tuned:
1. Probably, the next chapter will be beta-read again. (Keep my fingers crossed.)
2. In any case, there will be a scene with a shirtless Neal :-)
Thank you all so much for your constant support and praise.