/* Sunday */

Sunday morning had begun slowly with an extended breakfast when Neal received an unexpected call from Orlov. His client summoned him to a small Russian tea room, called The Samovar. He didn't sound friendly and gave no explanation for his request. The whole affair boded ill. Therefore, Neal didn't hesitate to contact Peter to inform him on the unforeseen turn the job had taken.

Agent Burke was immediately alarmed. "Neal, you shouldn't go there. The Samovar isn't a place for old ladies to enjoy a cup of Lapsang, it's more or less an employment agency for criminals, a meeting place for the mob. It's too dangerous."

The consultant disagreed. "I have to go. If I back out now, we'll lose Mozzie's trace once and for all. Plus, we won't be able to identify the sellout at Sterling Bosch or save Sara's job either. Never was anything great achieved without danger. I'll be careful. Promise!"

"Thanks for the groundbreaking word of wisdom, Machiavelli…" His handler tried to reason with his partner, but in the end, he gave in, and called in FBI back up to protect his CI. Fortunately, there was an FBI team on standby for emergencies. Once again, the transmitting watch would be used to wiretap the conversation.

Burke was sitting in the surveillance van so he could monitor the meeting, along with Diana and two other agents. The rest of the team took up position undercover on the street, observing the tea room. If required, they would be ready to rush in to rescue the CI.

The conman arrived a couple of minutes later, ostensibly eased, and apparently a bit annoyed. "Orlov, why did I have to abandon my Sunday brunch? It's a shame to let that champagne go to waste."

Orlov didn't lose any time. The moment Neal sat down, he was confronted with a blurred photo taken from a security camera at a jewelry shop. The photo was grainy but bore a striking resemblance to Caffrey.

"My father-in-law sent this picture tonight. Obviously, one of his associates did business with someone named Steve Tabernacle a couple of years ago. Either you have a twin brother, or you lied to me about your identity. Why didn't you tell me your real name? I don't tolerate being lied to." His voice was calm but threatening. In combination with the gun lying in front of him on the table, this was setting Neal's nerves on edge.

Peter's mind raced as he listened to the conversation. He weighed the odds and made a bold choice. Grabbing one of those FBI jackets with large print on the back, he ordered Diana to do the same and follow him. They both rushed into the tea room, making a big fuss.

Once he'd spotted Neal, Burke yelled in full FBI Agent mode, "Steve Tabernacle. You are under arrest for bond forgery. Or should I call you George Devore, Nick Halden or," Peter hesitated a moment, "Louis Armstrong? Whatever, it doesn't matter - none of these aliases that you've been using will keep you from prison. Hands over your head! Diana, cuff him!"

Orlov shook his head slightly. This was enough for his men to close in and start shouting in a foreign language. They blocked the view of the table where Neal and their boss had been sitting. Orlov used the opportunity to usher the conman through the back door, right into a waiting car. The FBI had no way to keep them from disappearing. Peter just hoped that his spontaneous action would work out well.

Fortunately, it did. Sitting in the back of the car, George Devore seemed a bit badgered while he tried to adjust his tie. "Well, now you probably understand the reason for my change of name. This suit has been following me for months, and he was closing in. Damn it! We have to finish this job as soon as possible. I need the payoff to drop off the radar."

This explanation was reasonable enough for his criminal boss to drop the subject. His concerns regarding the integrity of the hired frontman were dispelled for the time being. They re-confirmed to meet Monday morning and get the insurance con underway.

Afterwards, when Neal had joined the FBI team, he confronted his handler. "Louis Armstrong? Seriously, I thought we agreed to forget this dark chapter of your imaginativeness." The thought alone made him shudder.

Peter chuckled. "Sorry, I'm not an alias savant like you. Still, I didn't expect you to be so squeamish. In fact, I thought he might have heard about Neal Caffrey. Your name has been in the press on a number of occasions. And I was in a hurry. Louis Armstrong wasn't such a bad choice, considering."

Caffrey shrugged. "Anyway, it worked. I will meet Orlov tomorrow to get the con up and running. I hope we will find out who's ratting out the insurance company soon. I still don't have any news from Mozzie. Have you found anything?"

Agent Burke looked apologetic. He was searching for words. "I checked all the FBI's sources. He didn't raise any flags. I wish I could tell you where Mozzie is right now. Or even more, that he will be waiting for you at June's place tonight to pester you." He hadn't told a lie - maybe not the complete truth, but not a lie. Although, being Peter, this still didn't feel right. It was especially hard to hide the truth when he was looking directly into Neal's troubled eyes.

When Peter Burke entered his home, he mused how true it had been that he wished Mozzie would be at Neal's tonight. The moment he opened the front door, he heard the little man discussing one of his many conspiracy theories with El. He had listened to so many of them over the last week that his nerves were quite frayed.

He was longing for a relaxing, silent evening alone with his wife. Or an evening watching a game on TV, without having to answer questions of why anyone would be interested in catching a little ball in mid-air when you could buy a dozen of them at any store for $30. Or, at least a breakfast without comments on the unhealthy choice of cereals he preferred would be nice for a change.

Unfortunately, Peter's home was probably the only place in New York where Neal wouldn't come looking. The consultant had avoided any sort of personal contact with his handler so far. It was simply unthinkable that he'd show up at the Brooklyn brownstone unexpectedly to pay a surprise visit. So, Burke was willing to accommodate the annoying guest as long as necessary in order to ensure his safety. After all, there were actually a bunch of violent criminals looking out for him.

This was one of the downsides of the "conning the conman" scheme. Recently, Peter had felt there were quite a few of them.

About the same time, Neal was sitting in his apartment. June was visiting a friend for the evening, and he had the house all to himself. It took him a while to realize what was missing. But then realization hit him; he was missing company. Even though Mozzie could be nerve-wracking to no end, he had always been there for him.

The conman knew his friend sometimes spun absurd theories just to distract him from a gloomy mood. On the other hand, they could sit together without talking and feel comfortable all the same.

Apart from feeling a bit lonely, Neal was confused. Somehow, working undercover brought him back to life, and he felt some of his former vigor returning. The overwhelming pall of darkness was lifting gradually. He was eating regularly, by his own initiative, even without vomiting out afterwards – and that was quite an improvement.

He enjoyed the challenge of conning Orlov, and he simply loved to paint. It was fun to work with the team at the FBI, banter at Peter, develop his handler's ideas further, and count on the agent's ability to come to his rescue in time, just like … before.

That's where the confusion started. Things were NOT like before. He was mad at Peter. He wasn't able to forget the months in prison because of Peter's distrust. Recently, he had been able to put the tormenting memories to the back of his mind. But they were lurking beneath the surface, ready to jump at him any time. Just thinking about the look of disgust on the agent's face when he declared him guilty of stealing from the FBI, made him feel sick and fly into a fury. The bitterness inside him was as corroding as hazardous acid, the white hot anger burning like a welding flame.

How could someone like and trust a person, but hate and detest him at the same time? Mozzie would be the perfect partner to discuss and finally resolve these contradictions. He couldn't to get to the bottom of his feelings by himself.

AN:
So yes, Mozzie is safe and not abducted by the Russian mob :-)
I really love your support. Thank you all!

And once more, I'm glad that larura beta read the chapter. It's definitely an improvement. Her amendments made really a change for the better.