Chapter 8

Neal took his time. He seemed to spare the suspense, but in fact, he was trying to organize his memories. He also wanted to enjoy his friends' presence at his side. He uncorked the bottle, and poured some drops in his glass. He smelled the wine before tasting. Then, he filled the three glasses and sat down on the armchair, facing Diana and Peter who settled on the couch.

"I don't know where to start. I'm not sure what could be important for our case." Neal said.

"I'm going to speak for both of us, I think" Peter replied. "I'd like to know what happened after... After Mozzie and I identified your corpse at the morgue."

"Of course. It is as good a start as any."

FLASHBACK

The first thing he felt was the cold. A freezing cold that pierced the body bag. He had dreaded waking up in complete darkness, but luckily someone had left the bag open. Coming slowly back to his senses as the pill's effect receded, he observed his surroundings. You did not get the chance to discover a morgue through a dead man's body very often.

He could not tell how much time had passed when he decided he was awake enough to try and stand up. He fully opened the body bag and stepped down the stretcher, making sure his legs could carry him. Then, he walked towards the drawer number 14. An unclaimed body was waiting for him, along with clothes, a driving license and a passport. Moving the body inside the bag was not easy, but he finally succeeded. The undertaker would come and get him very soon, and they would cremate him without anyone seeing him ever again, as asked in his last will.

In one of the jacket pocket, he found a car key and a piece of paper telling him where to find the vehicle. He put on the baseball cap and the sunglasses, then made his way down the hall. Leaving the hospital was child's play, no one had reason to ask questions. He sat behind the wheel and took off. He had a safe house ready in the middle of the Bronx, where no one, not even Peter or Mozzie would think of looking for him if they had doubts.

Thinking about them hurt, even more than he had anticipated. He did not lie to Peter upon entering the ambulance, but he did not tell the truth either. Yes, Peter was his best friend, but so was Mozzie. Each in their own way, they had found a place in his heart, where he swore he would not let anyone settle after running away at the age of 18. Maybe he should have been honest with Moz, but he had been too afraid to put his life in danger. His plan was too risky.

At least, Mozzie had enough money to last him a lifetime. He left him with 12 millions of dollars out of the 23 they had managed to steal. Keller had taken away the remaining, if everything had gone according to the plan, but he had been caught and would spend the rest of his life in prison. As for Peter, he had everything he needed to figure out the truth. He would find the container and he would understand. And if not, he could always send him a clue. An 82 Bordeaux, for example. Not a message in a bottle, but a bottle as a message.

Neal hid in New York until his burial. He would have loved to hear what people said about him, but he chose to stay safe. And he did not feel strong enough to see his friends, even from afar. He would not have the strength to go on with his plan. Then, he took off. Washington was probably not the safest way, but the odds of meeting with one of Kramer's agents who worked on the U-Boat case were low. He took the chance. Four days after his death, he was on a plane to Paris.

WC*WC*WC

Peter and Diana listened without interrupting. They remembered the grief and the sadness. They remembered that a huge crowd came to Neal's funeral. Agents from all FBI divisions, who had learned to like the CI and who were impressed by the Pink Panther take down. By giving his life, Neal proved his loyalty to the Bureau, even in the eyes of the most skeptical.

"You planned this on your own, with no outside help?" Peter inquired.

"I paid the ambulance people and the medical examiner. No one else had a clue. I knew that Victor Moreau was a safe identity. Nor the FBI, nor Interpol, nor any criminal heard about him. Only Mozzie could connect the dots, but he never came looking for me, sadly."

A shadow passed across Neal's face. He wondered what happened to his other best friend. The one who taught him everything he knew. The one who showed him, he could be a criminal without becoming a monster.

Peter felt his friend was about to be overwhelmed by emotion.

"And once in Paris, what did you do?" he asked.

"I bought this house. I needed a place to stay. This new start was my chance to become a real artist. I set up the art studio and started painting."

"No criminal activities?"

"Not even a wallet in the subway. I haven't pickpocketed for over two years. I've painted a couple of copies, but they are identified as such."

"But, in the container, there was this article about security at the Louvre…"

"That's why I came to Paris in the first place. But… I…." Neal stopped. He searched for the right words. "In fact, I told myself I needed to change. You risked so much for me that I could not get caught again. You would have been in so much trouble. So I became a law-abiding citizen."

"A law-abiding citizen who bought a mansion with stolen money."

"I cannot confirm nor deny," Neal smiled. "I needed something to start an honest and discreet life. I thought that with the Pink Panthers take down, no one would spend much time searching for the missing money."

"What about Mozzie?" Diana asked. "You left him with nothing?"

"Of course not. I left him a little more than half of what we found in the New York undergrounds."

"Found? I see you haven't lost your touch when it comes to playing with words." Peter laughed.

"Old habits die hard. Anyway, Moz knew that Keller took part of the money, but he did not know what part. I guessed he would not realize that I also had my share."

Those words made Peter look up.

"He discovered it. It was my fault."

"How so?"

"A couple of months after you disappeared, I came to see him. He was playing Find the lady on Wall Street. We spoke about our stages of grief. Upon leaving, I asked him if he knew where the missing money was. I vividly remember telling him that we found 9 millions of dollars on Keller, and that 23 million were still unaccounted for."

Neal was in shock. I Mozzie knew that 11 million were missing, he should also know he was alive. Then why didn't he come looking for him?

Peter continued with his story.

"On that same night, Mozzie came home to see Neal. He told him the Nazi U-boat story. That's the last time I saw him."

"Neal?"

"My son. We called him Neal Georges. It was our way to keep you close."

Emotion overwhelmed Neal. He hugged his friend tightly.

"I missed you so much, you have no idea."

"All those memories are very moving, but I don't see how they're going to help us solve the case." Diana interrupted.

The young woman was right. They could not spend any more time down memory lane. The thief could strike any day. A new heist would set the police force on edge, and put Neal in danger.

"We need to discover how the thief managed to make you travel to the cities he was planning to hit. Why did you go to Copenhagen?"

While hearing Peter's question, Neal knew that lead would be very hard to follow.

"Someone ordered me a piece of art. A man contacted by email. He had seen my work in a gallery and wanted to order a triptych of a special kind."

"How special?"

"Nothing scabrous, don't worry. He wanted me to paint emblematic places in three European cities. He told me about the Little Mermaid in Copenhagen, Ann Frank's house in Amsterdam and the Ufenau Island on the lake of Zurich. He wanted a three paneling piece with those three specific places."

"You did not find that odd?"

"Not really. The exhibition at the gallery showed several triptychs made in that model, with different views of New York." Neal stopped talking, smiling fondly. "I painted one that shows the FBI building, your house, and June's place. I'm sure you would love it. Anyway, the order did not seem odd at the time, except for the fact that the three places did not have anything to do with each other."

"That explains why you traveled to these cities, not how the thief managed to have you there when he wanted you to be."

"The man organized everything. He booked the plane tickets and the hotels in which I stayed. He told me to take my time and that he would pay for anything I needed while I was studying the places. I didn't need being asked twice. I had moved away from Paris for two years."

"We can reasonably believe that this man has something to do with the heists."

"I thought about it, but it's going to be difficult, I never met him. We only had contacts through emails. I'm painting the pieces right now. He wants them delivered in six months, which is way enough time for me to finish them. He left me with no instruction. I can do whatever I want. His only wish is a triptych showing the three places. I have no reason to contact him."

"If you do, he will probably disappear."

The three friends kept silent for a while, each of them going over their options. Diana was the first one to come up with an idea.

"Detective Motta, I've heard he is some kind of geek. I could ask him to try and trace those emails. If we can follow the computer track, we might very well be able to find who made you travel across Europe."

"Why not Interpol?" Neal asked.

"A lot of agents worked on your case over the years. Even if it was a long time ago, I don't want to risk one of them recognizing you.

Diana had a point. If any Interpol agent made a connection between Victor Moreau and Neal Caffrey, he would end up in jail in no time, long before they caught the real culprit. Diana stood up.

"I'm going there now. I think you still have a lot to share, both of you."

"I mainly need to get some sleep." Peter replied.

Once Diana was gone and Peter was asleep, Neal stayed alone in the living room. He wondered what happened to Mozzie. Worrying about his friend was useless. He needed to find him.