White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 9

Smoking jacket

"I got here as soon as I could," Wilson said the second he stepped out of the elevator.

"Maggie's in the conference room," Peter told him, "giving a statement to one of my agents."

"Thought her name was Rocker."

"It's her nickname."

"Using a nickname was smart," the kid said as they moved to the conference room. "Makes it harder for the Burmese to decode."

"Unfortunately, not hard enough," Peter sighed as they took the steps up from the bullpen and walked into the room where Maggie, waiting, thumbing on a laptop. "Miss Sheldon, would you mind telling Mr. Wilson from the State Department what you told us?"

The girl nodded.

"Maggie, I'm Chris' dad."

"The Mr. Wilson?" she asked with something that Peter associated with respect or at least positive association. Wilson nodded. "Someone broke into my place this morning while I was out."

"The Burmese got to her first," Neal told Wilson.

"You know what they were looking for?" Peter asked.

"They stole my external hard drive, but I keep a backup flash drive of my cut footage on me," she said and opened her colorful backpack. "Chris was in Burma getting information about the rebel movement."

She pushed the flash drive into her laptop.

"Chris was?" Wilson asked, frowning. "Why?"

"He's doing a documentary about the democracy of the region," she said. "Well, this came in last week."

They gathered around her computer.

She started the movie. There was Chris and a local guy, as close buddies.

"I should have gotten Tonkyo drunk before," Chris said to the camera. "He admitted to having cousins in the KNLA. There's a secret camp near the Indian border. We're going there now before he sobers up. I'll drop this in the snail toss on the way, all right? I love you."

"What's the KNLA?" Peter asked.

"The KNLA is a rebel group," Wilson said.

"The Burmese government has been trying to shut them down for decades," Rocker said.

"The Burmese officials must have found out he was filming, pinned the ruby theft on him as a cover-up."

"I wish I'd known," Wilson said, digging a hole of self-pity. "I should have known."

"Chris is bullheaded," Maggie returned. "He likes to do everything on his own."

"Yeah, but I could have helped him with safer access. This is all my fault."

"Chris doesn't blame you for anything." The young woman looked at Wilson, who chuckled with a sigh, wanting to believe her. "I think you should see this."

She opened another film from her drive.

There was Chris again, sitting in a tent, with the same T-shirt he had on the video they got from the Burmese.

"Progress is...slow on this remote plateau, but a wise man once said, 'slow progress is lasting progress.' Wait a minute. My dad said that. I'm quoting my dad." The young man chuckled. "Kind of cool." Then artillery fire was heard, and a nearby explosion. "I got to go. I love you."

"That rocket attack resulted in over half a dozen civilian casualties and was documented by the Red Cross and Physicians Without Borders," Maggie told them.