Chapter 3:
Hey, Readers! Wow, I kinda forgot about this one. Sorry about such a long wait, but unfortunately I can't promise I won't repeat it. Such is life. Anyway, thanks so much if you're still reading this :) I hope you like it.
6 Weeks Earlier:
"Stop pacing, I can't hear it!" whispered Caffrey. He leant closer to the safe, the stethoscope pressed against it. Keller raised an eyebrow at the demand but his methodical tapping of footsteps ceased. Neal refocused. Click. Click. Click. Clunk. Perfect! One more to go.
Keller checked his watch, glancing away from his look-out station at the door. "We have one-minute left. You get that safe open and you open it now, or things are going to get messy." The tone of his voice wasn't playful, mid-heist Keller was all business.
"Shhhh…" hushed Neal, absently. His attention directed towards the small box embedded in the ornate wall before him.
Safe cracking is art. It can't be rushed, it takes a steady hand and an open ear. Caffrey held a certain affinity towards those attributes. One may say he was a natural, perhaps even a genius, if such words were to be applied to criminals. But talent is nothing without practice. Neal had cracked this safe a hundred times before. Well, not this one exactly. Mozzie had 'found' a similar safe which he kindly donated to Neal, for his varied education. It had a few miles on its gage. It was knocked, its system unreliable, Neal preferred to think it added character. In the world of security, safes were out dated at the speed of iPhones. But, like iPhones, the product remained relativity unchanged.
"Uncrackable" the advertisement boasted. Ha! They might as well dare every aspiring, crime documentary watching, criminal to kiss their crush on the playground. If you do it, you're the iceberg that sunk the titanic. Expect you know, without the death.
Click. Click. Clunk.
Satisfaction rushed to Caffey's fingers as the safe door swung open. One unsinkable ship down, square that away. A smile found its way to the end of his lips. It contained a red, ruby neckless, the chain pure gold. It was beautiful. Old too. Worth a lot. But with all this trouble to get it, it was probably for sentential value. The Family Jewels and all that. Caffrey didn't care he wasn't here for the spoils; he was here for the sport. The rush of the game, of solving the unsolvable… and because getting on the wrong side of Mathew Keller was never a good plan.
"Grab it. Let's go." Nodded Keller as he drew his gun.
"Woah! I thought we agreed I would only do this if there were no guns." Neal panicked
"Relax, girly, bullets not for you." Keller quibbled. His face contorted into mock anguish.
Neal remained steadfast in position.
"Oh, Bo Hoo. You've done it now. And I would have been able to stick to that deal if you hadn't taken so long, but now the guard will be making his rounds."
"Long? I cracked it in 182 seconds!" Neal held up his watch as prof.
"Yeah, I'm so impressed." Keller dead panned. "Just grab the damn thing and follow me."
Sirens started.
"You little rat! What did you do?" Keller bellowed, levelling his gun at Neal's face.
"Nothing! I swear! This wasn't me," Neal barked back.
The roaring rotating noise attempted to drown their voices. Then they heard the footsteps.
They had an escape plan perfectly planed, of course. Keller would loop the stairwell's camera as they made their way to the ground floor, where they would assume the identities of Hotel staff. Two lefts, three rights, and one left later they would be driving home from their 'first shift at work' with a little more pay than necessarily agreed upon. But plans change.
New plan: Run.
Keller was far ahead, Neal panting behind. Caffrey kept in good shape, but long staircases and multiple disorientating corridors took its toll. He ran. His hand sliding along the rail beside him. Oh crap. Oh, crap. Oh, crap. There were people coming up the staircase. He turned to a door to side. Is this floor 15 or 14? Damn. Elevators off line. Damn. Keep going. The con wouldn't fool anyone now, but maybe he could disappear among the commotion. Neal turned down another corridor then back to the staircase. If he just -.
"FREEZE, FBI!"
The FBI White Collar station wasn't quite as he imagined it. It was large, open. The stretching ceilings and glass walls seemed to flex, graciously gifting space to breathe. Space to think.
Neal got a few odd glances from the suits between there clicking keyboard fingers, shuffling paper hands and lingering coffee break feet. They hid their interest well, but there are indications the body performs without the approval of the mind. A quiet layer of attention drifted around Neal's shoes. This is the kid. The criminal. The forger. The thief. The one Burke rescued.
Yeah-freakin'-right.
They didn't see him as an equal, they saw him a mistake, as wrong paths taken, as a child. More than anything, Neal hated that. The condescending nature; that perceptions got to go. Neal straightened his shoulders, raised his chin and selected a confident, slightly cocky simile. It's show time.
He walked in. Following Burke though the room to a series of raised large offices at the end. Burke had an office up here, he noted glancing at the plaque, and so did the apparent head of the operation. Obviously, this is where the people of merit worked. Caffrey flashed a smirk back towards the trundling office workers. How many of them got to come straight up here on their first day? He entered the office. Inside was a large elongated table and two other agents, the 'big guns', the ones who were with Burke when Neal was arrested.
He entered the office. Inside was a large elongated table and two other agents, the 'big guns', the ones who were with Burke when Neal was arrested.
"Neal, this Diana and Jones, They're working this case with me."
"Hello, Diana, Jones," Neal said, making sure to keep his voice low and steady. If was to be working with these individuals be wanted to gain some form of respect. He nodded to each as he said their names, although he already memorised their faces and names from there last interaction. "So nice to officially be introduced instead of man handled into
"So nice to officially be introduced instead of man handled into car." It probably wasn't the best idea to remind them of his criminal activity and there already shaky past interactions but – hey, it was too fun to resist.
The agents took a moment to look up from the papers spread out on the desk, before returning to the task at hand. "Caffrey."
Ouch. Cold. Looks like Mr Respected Burke didn't make a popular choice in bringing Neal in. Then again, maybe they just didn't like criminals, no matter how charming. It would make sense, given their profession.
"Okay, so what's the case? I keep hearing those words "the case", honestly, it sounds like you're all into delivering illegal drugs or something."
Peter raised an eyebrow.
"Angelo White had his home robbed about half a month ago. The items of value that were paintings stolen where his private collection, including the Courbet you recognised."
Neal nodded. "The fake."
"Exactly," Dinna interjected. "It seems to be a trend. We've had our team take a closer look at all the other paintings and they appear to be forgeries too."
"If they're stolen how did you analyse them?" Caffrey questioned.
"Mr White had scanned electronic copies of the art work and put up on his art blog," Jones answered. "At this point, we, don't know for sure. It does seem unlikely that all the paintings stolen were forgeries, and with some paintings, it's hard to tell for sure. Our experts noticed discrepancies but are unwilling to make a definitive call without seeing the paintings in person."
Caffrey walked to the other side of the table and looked at each of the large print outs of the scanned paintings. Something wasn't right. Something more than a pixel muck up or an incorrect translation of information from reality to the screen.
"These are forgeries. I'm willing to stake my freedom on it." Caffrey said. If they weren't the Feds wouldn't need him anyhow. Better gamble here than wait in prison.
"Good," smiled Burke. "Cus you're freedoms what's on the line here."
Burke directed Caffrey to the behemoth of files stacked in the corner of the room. "Look through these, look at the information. See if anything sticks out to you."
Neil looked disgustingly towards the large pile. He opened his mouth as if to say something.
"Unless you have something else you'd rather be doing," Peter prompted.
Neil steped back resgined. Lay low rememeber.
"Didn't think so."
Caffey's head was spinning after working though boxes and boxes of files. Was this institution in the stone age? The other agents slowly left the room on account of other important issues, leaving Neal to tend to the growing mound of files related to the case. At least, it appeared to be growing. After three hours of hard slog Neal had more questions than answers; Why would anyone steal a bunch of fake paintings? How does Mr. White have so many forgeries in the first place and, most importantly; was the Bureau aware that there's such a thing as a computer for goodness sake?!
Sighing, Neal turned his attention to window. People scurried about their lives, dashing in and out of shops, coffees in hand. A short man checked his reflection in the window. He remained there for a long time, pacing up and down. Neal's eyes narrowed, he walked to the window to get a closer look. Stopping for a second, the man turned – Mozzie!
Neal walked out of the office towards the coffee machine all of the time keeping his eyes focused on the elevators. The right one was concealed from view. It could be risky. Neal glanced at the mound of boxes and papers spread over the table. What's life without a little risk?
Walking out of the room and to the raised platform Neal kept his eyes on the elevators. He was only halfway done the stairs that it began to materialise from behind the wall. As Neil strolled through the room, he noted the elevator entrance was also concealed from the right side of the room. This would be tricky and would require some luck. Neal hated leaving things to luck. Open plan offices suck!
He walked like he owned the place, from the stairs, down the hall and turned to the –
"Where do you think you're going,"
Neal glared up at Agent Burke "To the bathroom of course."
Peter meet Neal's defiant glare with his own of suspicion. He gave way.
"You have five minutes."
Neal rolled his eyes and kept walking. He rounded the corner into the bathroom, right next to the elevator. Five minutes. Not much time. Walking out he entered straight into the lift, knowing full well that he was hiding from half the office. Man, they should have designed this place better.
If you look like you know where you're going, no one will stop you. Neal turned to the man who shared the elevator with him. The man glanced over.
"Long day?" Neal asked with a charming smile and innocent eyes.
"It's been alright," he smiled. Neal nodded. The elevator doors opened and Caffrey just kept walking.
Mozzie was waiting across the street. He bumped and jumped, flustered.
"Neal, thank goodness you're alright! The word is you are with the FBI? I didn't know if you could escape!"
"Good to see you too Mozzie," Neal smiled. A real genuine smile. It'd be a while since he'd his friend.
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