New York, White Collar Division. Tuesday morning. February 17, 2004.
"It's nearly noon. We'd better get started," Peter said as he stopped at Neal's desk.
Neal grinned as he stood and pulled on his coat. "I thought you'd at least pretend you weren't following me," he said as they walked toward the elevator.
"Like you were going to pretend you didn't know I was this week's Tuesday Tail?"
"It's all part of the game," Neal said as they stepped onto the elevator.
Peter pressed the button for the ground floor, and tapped his hand impatiently against his leg as the elevator stopped several times on the way down. When they finally reached the lobby he said, "That's one of the differences between you and me, Neal. This is work. It's our job. I take it seriously, and you call it a game."
"This is your lunch break, Peter. Tuesday Tails is like recess for grown-ups. It's about running around and being creative. Of course it's a game. Think of it like this: is tailing me part of your 2004 objectives? Do you have a goal that says you'll successfully track me at least fifty percent of the time?" They approached the exterior doors. Neal reached the door first and held it open.
Peter stepped outside, about to say that no, it wasn't in his goals, and if it were he'd be shooting for much higher than fifty percent. He looked back, aware of a stream of people pouring through the exit. Neal had lost himself among them. Peter had to smile and say, "He's good," before spotting his consultant in the crowd, heading east.
For the next ten minutes it was an evenly matched game of cat and mouse. The fact that Neal continued to head east made Peter think his consultant wasn't simply dodging him. Neal had a destination in mind. Shortly after 12:10 Peter lost sight of Neal, but turned east, expecting to find him again in the next block. As he was passing by an alleyway he heard Neal's voice. "Peter, over here."
Peter stepped into the alley and let his eyes adjust to the shadows. "Did you forget who's chasing who?"
"At the moment, I'm chasing Kate. She's in the café across the street, second booth from the window. See her?"
"Yeah. I think you'd better tell me what's going on."
"I got a message this morning that she wants to meet. I don't know why, but I doubt it's as simple as a reconciliation. She was avoiding me before I came to work for you, and she knows I'm with the Feds now. If she wants to talk to me anyway, she must be desperate."
"Oh, God. And that makes you desperate."
"Possibly. I don't think she'll recognize you. You should be able to go into the café, take the booth behind her, and listen in."
"And keep you from doing something you'll regret?"
"Yeah." Neal looked at Peter. "I mean, no. Just hear her out. See if we can make her a deal, like the one I have."
"Neal." Peter put a hand on Neal's shoulder to get his attention. He removed his hand when Neal was facing him. "I know you want her to get immunity, too. But you have to understand how rare that is. Remember, I was listening when you talked to her at the Sinclair house New Year's Eve. She wasn't interested in a deal like yours then, and it's unlikely that she changed her mind."
"But she could have. Or I could talk her into it now. I just need a little time to persuade her." Neal sounded desperate already, which did not bode well.
"Don't get your hopes up." Peter hated to mention it, but he needed to remind Neal. "I can give you time to try to persuade her, but you realize I should arrest her. She broke into the Sinclair home during our op there, cracked a safe and stole cash, jewelry and papers."
"Um." Neal stared at the ground.
"Neal?"
"She didn't crack the safe. I did." Neal looked up, his blue eyes wide and pleading. "She refused to leave without cracking the safe, but she's not very good at it. It was taking forever, remember? And I had to get back to the party before someone missed me. There wasn't time to call you and ask for suggestions. My job that night was to talk to Collins without making anyone suspicious, and having an inept cat burglar set off alarms or simply get caught by the homeowners would have been a problem. I needed to get her out of there, so I opened the safe for her. But I did tell her that the FBI was on the grounds and she should surrender."
"Yeah, you did." Peter sighed. With a one-way connection to the FBI surveillance team, Neal had told them where Kate was headed and they were able to retrieve everything she had taken, although she had pulled a gun on Jones and gotten away. He wished now they had made it a higher priority to find and arrest her. "I need to think this through, Neal. You know we didn't have a warrant yet when we sent you into that party. There's a possibility that I'll have to arrest you for what you just confessed here."
"Just let me talk to Kate, first."
"Fine. I can't arrest anyone now. Not until I have a chance to consider all the legal ramifications of what happened that night." Peter turned and rather abruptly headed toward the café. His mind was awash with conflicting thoughts and emotions. He was disappointed Neal had cracked the safe, but pleased he'd let Peter know about Kate's request to meet today. The fact that Neal realized he needed help dealing with her was encouraging. The fact that he'd only admitted to illegal activity because he wanted to protect Kate was an issue; it would have been easier to dismiss the safe cracking incident as an expediency in the midst of an op if they had known about it immediately. Six weeks later there would always be the question of whether Neal had kept or intended to keep anything he'd found in that safe for his own personal gain. Peter barely acknowledged the waitress who handed him a menu as he slid into the booth. He asked for water and a deviled ham sandwich, and waited for Neal to arrive.
###
Neal's first reaction on seeing Kate again was that she was still astoundingly beautiful, a brunette angel who would have inspired any artist to try capturing her luminous face. He slid into the red vinyl booth in the retro café and simply stared at her for a moment before saying, "I've missed you more than you can imagine."
"We were good together, but it's over, Neal."
"I know you were upset about the way I asked you to come to Copenhagen. I honestly was trying to romance you, not con you. Yes, I was planning to break into the palace, but the most important part of the trip in my mind was seeing the wonders of Europe with you. I get why you were unhappy about the way I approached it, though. I'll be more straightforward from now on."
"Neal Caffrey straightforward? You always complicate things. It's part of what made you fun. Before you were a Fed."
"Did you think over what I said on New Year's?"
"About giving myself up, confessing all, and becoming a law-abiding citizen? That's not going to happen. That's how I know it's over. We're on completely different paths." Kate paused as the waitress took Neal's order for a club sandwich, and then said, "Unless you change your mind. Tell me you don't miss it. The challenge, the excitement. Does the paperwork at the FBI give you that same rush?"
One assignment, on New Year's Eve, had given him the same kind of rush he'd gotten on major cons and heists. And he'd gotten close to it again on the occasions Peter let him do field work. He had a strong feeling the Highbury assignment would give him what he craved. "You'd be surprised," he said.
"Prove to me you made the right choice, and I'll consider changing sides," Kate offered.
"Seriously?"
"Do one more job with me. If you can walk away from it after that, I'll believe you're really meant to work for the FBI. And if that's true, maybe I will reconsider."
Neal took a sip of coffee. A moment ago it had tasted good, but now it was bitter. "That's the only reason you wanted to talk to me. Because there's a job you can't handle on your own. What is it?"
"Tell me you're in, first."
Part of him wanted to say that he would do anything for Kate. Another part of him knew this was why he'd invited Peter along: to remind him not to throw away everything Peter had helped him gain. "If I would jump sides that easily, then we'd already know I wasn't meant to work for the FBI."
Kate started to slide out of the booth. Neal grabbed her arm. She shook her head. "I told you it's over, Neal. You work for the FBI, I work for Adler. We've picked opposite sides."
"Wait. Adler? No one's heard from him in almost a year. How are you working for him?"
"He sends a message describing an assignment and what he's willing to pay. I do the work or subcontract it, and when it's done I get the money. It's a lot of money, Neal, for a simple job. Think about it." She stood up, and pulled her wallet out of her purse. Tossing some cash on the table for her food, she said, "I mean it. Think about it, and meet me back here this evening. I'll be here when you leave the bland offices of the FBI."
Kate walked out as the waitress delivered Neal's sandwich. Moments later, Peter slid into the booth with his lunch. "What would Vincent Adler want so badly that he would risk repeated contact with a former employee?" he asked.
"I have no idea. And I don't understand why he'd pick Kate as his contact. If he wanted something illegal done, why didn't he pick me?"
"You're too obvious," Peter suggested. "You were already on the watch lists of several law enforcement agencies when you met him. Kate, on the other hand, seemed like a harmless girl with no criminal record at the time he disappeared. Plus, Kate has access to you. He knew you two were seeing each other, right?"
"Yeah, he knew." Neal wasn't hungry, but he started eating the sandwich anyway. He didn't want Peter to see how much the conversation with Kate had unsettled him.
"How tempted are you to help Kate by taking the job?"
Neal shrugged.
"I heard her throw that bone, about how she might be willing to switch sides if you do this for her. You're smart enough to know she doesn't mean it. She doesn't want to switch sides. Her loyalty is to the highest bidder, and that isn't going to be the FBI."
"I know. Just like I know you want me to take the job. It's the best lead you have on Adler."
Peter shook his head. "I want you to meet Kate this evening and learn more about the job, but that's it. No going undercover until you're cleared by a therapist, remember?"
"That's for the Highbury case, because you think they're drugging people. There's no reason to expect that with this job. And it isn't really undercover work. Kate and Adler already know who I am."
"No, they don't, Neal. They think you're a criminal who can be twisted to their will. That's not who you are now."
Neal pushed away the plate with the remaining half of his sandwich. "Keep reminding me of that. Most of the time I believe it, but today I'm having doubts."
###
Peter barely had time to sit down at his desk before Jones appeared in the entry to his office. "How was it?" Jones asked.
"Not what I expected."
Jones grinned. "You lose him?"
"No. Ten minutes into it, I learned he was using me as his backup in a meet with one of his former partners in crime, and now we have a new lead on the Adler case."
"You're kidding!" Jones took a seat in Peter's office. "Why don't you look happy about it?"
"It's a long story. Listen, I'm going to need someone to stake out a restaurant this evening, when Neal meets with his contact again. I'd do it, but I think she'd be suspicious if I showed up a second time. Do you have plans?"
"I can be flexible," Jones said. "Give me a time and place, and I'll be there."
"Thanks. Check with Neal. He'll give you the details." Peter expected Jones to leave, but instead the agent remained seated, looking agitated. "Was there something else?"
"Yeah. You know how you had me testing out the cell phone records the NSA is gathering?"
"Using Neal's phone as a test case. You were going to track his movements and let me know if you noticed anything suspicious. Did you see something?"
"Not exactly. There hasn't been much to see, honestly. But last night I plotted out the results for the last three weeks on a city map. I was going to look for patterns, and then see if I could generate an algorithm that would find patterns automatically." Jones paused and straightened his tie in a rare display of nerves.
Peter leaned back in his chair. "Out with it, Jones."
"You remember I mentioned a friend who's been staying at my place?"
"Ex-Navy buddy staying at your apartment while he recovers from an injury, right?"
"That's right. George lost his lower right leg. He's been learning to use a prosthesis and getting therapy from the Donwell Institute; they specialize in helping people who've lost limbs. The thing is, George has been sort of depressed, not taking much of an interest in anything, and I got careless. I left the map and my notes out overnight. I didn't realize he'd looked at it until I went home for lunch today and he mentioned he'd seen the map before I'd put it away this morning. He must have studied it for a while, because he said he'd noticed some trends. There are places Neal tends to hang out, other than the office and his apartment. There's nothing suspicious in what George found, but I knew you wouldn't be happy that I let anyone see it."
Peter sighed. "That's highly classified data, Jones. No one is supposed to know the NSA is even collecting it."
"I know. I'm sorry, Peter. I wasn't thinking. Since Neal isn't a suspect and the data wasn't for a case, I didn't treat it as carefully as I should have. If it helps, there's nothing on the map or on my notes that indicates where the data came from. George has no idea what he stumbled into, but I can bring him in to talk to you, if you want to warn him about the restricted nature of it."
"If he doesn't realize where the data came from, at this point our safest bet is not to make a big deal out of it. And for you not to take it home again."
"The thing is, if I work on it here, Caffrey's likely to notice. He drops by my desk every so often to see if I'm working on something more interesting than what you've assigned to him."
"Fine. If you haven't noticed anything suspicious in all this time, let's give it a break. Write up a summary for Hughes about the quality and value of the data for use in future cases, and maybe we'll run another trial later."
"I'll get you that summary by the end of day," Jones promised, and he looked relieved as he made his escape from Peter's office.
Peter, on the other hand, felt a headache gathering like a nascent thunderstorm in his head. Almost from the first day Neal had started working at the FBI, he'd challenged Peter's black-and-white view of the world. In Peter's eyes, Neal shouldn't undertake any undercover work until a therapist cleared him. Peter was sure that's what Hughes had intended. But Neal was correct in pointing out that the restriction had been discussed in the context of the Highbury case.
And now Peter, like Neal, was seeing gray areas. A meeting with Kate wasn't a big deal, as far as undercover work went. And Adler was a huge priority for the Bureau, worth making a minor exception for. There wasn't anything illegal about letting Neal do this without a therapist's clearance. But it still felt wrong.
And speaking of things that felt wrong... What was he supposed to do about the fact that Neal had broken into a safe during his first undercover assignment at the Bureau? As hard as he tried, Peter kept running into more gray areas instead of a black-and-white answer.
Needing a second opinion from someone who would understand, but who wouldn't be obliged to report Peter's conundrum, he looked up the phone number of Thomas Gardiner, a former FBI agent who now taught law at Yale. Gardiner had helped get Neal into the New Year's party where the safe cracking had occurred, and it didn't take long for Peter to bring the man up to speed on this latest twist in the case.
"You don't believe Neal opened that safe for his own personal gain," Professor Gardiner said. "From what I've heard about him, he was a talented thief but not wealthy when you recruited him. And he accepted employment at the FBI, where he can't expect to get rich. Therefore money isn't his motivation. Furthermore, you've made it clear that you trust him. From what I've observed of Neal and heard from you today, I see no reason to take disciplinary action. Opening the safe was a necessary step to keep an operation on track, and he immediately made you aware of what had happened, enabling the FBI to recover what was taken. At this point I'd recommend training him on what the surveillance team needs from him during an undercover op. In this case, you needed more detail of what was going on and why, to prevent the types of concerns you're facing now."
"Did he ruin our case against Kate?" Peter asked.
"He certainly didn't help it, but his role doesn't change the fact that you have a recording of her stating her intent to steal what was in the safe, followed by your agent discovering the stolen property in her possession. When you do arrest her, that gives you leverage if she tries to negotiate rather than confess." A creak was heard over the line as the professor leaned back in his chair in his office at Yale. "What's your real concern here, Peter?"
"I'm worried that he lied to me." Uncomfortable looking out toward his team in the bullpen during this discussion, Peter stood up to gaze out the window to the street below. "Neal loves Kate, and doesn't want her arrested. It's possible that she really opened the safe, and he claimed it was his work in order to weaken our case against her."
"Knowing you'd be disappointed in him."
"Yes," Peter said.
"Let's take you out of the equation for a moment, shall we? Is it in Neal's character to open the safe himself, as he described, for expedience?"
Peter almost smiled. "It's exactly the kind of impetuous decision he would make."
"And it's in his known skill set. Do you have any reason to doubt his assertion that safe cracking is not in Kate's skill set?"
"In our list of crimes attributed to Kate Moreau, we don't have any instances of safe cracking."
"And in my own interactions with Neal, I noticed a distinct tendency for hero-worship toward you. I find it highly unlikely that he lied to you, Peter."
Peter hadn't realized how tense he'd become until Gardiner's words allowed him to relax.
"I'd be surprised," Gardiner continued, "if you can cite any recent examples of Neal lying to you."
Peter returned to his desk chair. "Neal and I have different ideas of what constitutes a lie. He'll mislead me, or misdirect without a second thought."
"But not an actual lie?"
"No." Peter thought back, and couldn't recall a direct lie. Sarcastic remarks and jokes, but not real lies. "But we're talking about a talented con artist. He lied for a living." Peter recalled a conversation in St. Louis when Neal had said the same thing – that he didn't need to practice lying because he did it for a living.
"Not to you, however."
"Are you saying you think he can't lie to me?" Peter was aware he sounded incredulous.
"That's outside my area of expertise. But I'll say that I think he very much wants to avoid lying to you. He wants your acceptance and approval, and he knows being caught in a lie would jeopardize that. It's not a risk he would take lightly."
Peter wrapped up the conversation, thanking Thomas for his advice and insight. For the rest of the day he kept wondering if he'd be able to tell if Neal lied to him, and if Kate were the one person who could make Neal cross that line.
Knowing that Neal would meet with Kate again this evening did nothing to help Peter's headache.
A/N: The Donwell Institute is fictional. I often struggle with character and place names, and for this story I used names from Jane Austen's Emma. The character Thomas Gardiner was introduced in my story By the Book, when I was using names from Pride and Prejudice.