Neal sat down on the windowsill in Peter's room after shaking hands with Wilson once again.
"So, gentlemen?" He looked from Peter to Neal and back again. What's up?"
"One of our agents has arranged for the Burmese consulate to hand over a DVD with Christofer's confession," Peter told a stunned Wilson. "We would like you to watch it with us in the conference room."
Peter gestured and Wilson walked ahead of them. Neal joined last.
"I don't know how he pulled it off. The Burmese have been stonewalling since Chris' arrest. We weren't even aware there was a tape."
"Well, you can thank Agent Berrigan for this," Peter said indicating Diana who waited for them.
"The regional director of Southeast Asia's a friend. She was able to pressure them into turning over proof of life."
"The good thing about this is they wouldn't let us see it unless he was all right," Peter pointed out and nodded to Diana. "Go ahead."
She picked up the remote and started the film on the screen.
There was a picture of Christopher, tired and pale, but nerveless. The quality of the footage was amazingly bad, especially around the edges, Neal noted. A man spoke what he figured was Burmese and an interpreter said:
"State your name."
"Christopher Harlowe."
"I have some questions. Are you prepared to answer them?"
"Yes, sir."
"Are you being treated well?"
There was a pause and then the answer:
"I've been given everything I need."
Neal noted that Wilson was emotional, which surprised him.
"Did you steal the ruby?"
"That's what I'm accused of."
Someone gave him a nudge and spoke in the other language. The interpreter translated:
"Did you steal it? Yes or no?"
"Yes."
"Who helped you?"
"I was alone."
That was the second time Christoper moved as if in discomfort and seemed to scratch himself. On another place than last time.
"How did you manage such a feat?"
"I crossed the stream into the base. Then I bribed a guard to get the ruby."
Neal was certain the kid was lying. You would need a fortune to bribe your way to the ruby, and he said he only bribed one. Still, it was a confession. He said he had stolen it.
Wilson turned the DVD off.
"That's gonna be hard to refute," Neal told Peter. Peter gave a nod in agreement before turning to Wilson.
"When you came to us, you already knew that he had confessed."
"Yeah, sorry. I should've mentioned that. But Chris has absolutely no criminal record whatsoever."
"'Chris'?" Peter repeated. "We're meeting outside your workplace. You're comfortable calling him Chris. Chris isn't just any kid, is he?"
Peter had noted the same thing as he and suddenly the pieces came together.
"He's your son," he said.
"That's why you really came to us."
Wilson looked at them. Then closed his eyes and nodded.
"Yeah." He looked down at the table. "Chris and I have become... distant. He took his mother's name after the divorce. Our contact is down to e-mails at birthdays and holidays, but if the Burmese are made aware that he is my son..."
"You don't want him used as a bargaining chip," Peter filled in.
"We may not be close, but I'm still his father. I can't put him in jeopardy."
"We'll handle this."
"He was doing something with his hand," Neal said. "Do you think he was sending a signal?"
"The children of diplomats are trained to send messages if they're in trouble," Diana said.
"We're gonna need to get a look at the rest of that tape. The unedited version."
Peter looked at Wilson.
"When you came to us, you already knew that he had confessed."
"Yeah, sorry. I should've mentioned that. But Chris has absolutely no criminal record whatsoever."
"'Chris'?" Peter repeated. It was the second time he had used that name. And he had been quite emotional when they watched the confession. "We're meeting outside your workplace. You're comfortable calling him Chris. Chris isn't just any kid, is he?"
"He's your son," his pet convict said without any hint of doubt. He just loved that kid's mind.
"That's why you really came to us."
Wilson sighed and nodded.
"Yeah. Chris and I have become... distant. He took his mother's name after the divorce. Our contact is down to e-mails at birthdays and holidays, but if the Burmese are made aware that he is my son..."
"You don't want him used as a bargaining chip." Besides the tragedy, it was heavy leverage to make someone do anything.
"We may not be close, but I'm still his father. I can't put him in jeopardy."
"We'll handle this."
"He was doing something with his hand," Neal had noted that too. "Do you think he was sending a signal?"
"The children of diplomats are trained to send messages if they're in trouble," Diana said.
"We're gonna need to get a look at the rest of that tape," Peter told Diana. "The unedited version."
They split up and Peter and Neal took a walk before lunch.
"What kind of father is that?" the kid huffed, obviously not impressed by Wilson.
"His job puts Chris at further risk," Peter said, not getting what made Neal so upset. "So he came to us sub-rosa instead, to protect him."
"Tough love?"
"It's what my father would have done."
"Your dad was a bricklayer, not a diplomat."
Peter grinned, impressed.
"Okay, so he would've tried to break through the mortar walls of the prison first instead, but he would've done the same thing." He jammed his hands in his pockets and glanced at Neal, curious. "What about yours?"
"My dad?" the kid asked, surprised.
"Yeah. I don't know much about him." Nothing really. Except that there must be one.
"Oh? I thought you knew everything about me."
"Well, there's a big, gaping hole before your 18th birthday."
"Enjoy the mystery."
"Oh, come on!" Peter pushed. "You don't want to talk about him?"
"What do you want me to say?"
Peter saw an opening to learn something.
"I don't know. Start small. What did he do for a living?"
Neal's next step was slower and the next did not come at all.
"My dad was a cop."
Peter halted and turned, staring at one of the brightest criminals he ever met. The kid raised his eyebrows, watching the reaction he got.
"A cop?!" How was it possible? He had not thought much about Neal's parents and their professions, but he would have ruled out anything that had to do with law enforcement.
"You said start small," Neal said without a hint of a smile and gave his arm a pat. "Have a nice day." He continued down the sidewalk.
"You c—"
"Nope."
"Come on, a cop?" Peter called after him.
"No."
"Your dad was a bricklayer, not a diplomat," Neal told his handler.
"Okay, so he would've tried to break through the mortar walls of the prison first instead, but he would've done the same thing. What about yours?"
"My dad?" He should have seen that coming, talking about fathers.
"Yeah. I don't know much about him." Did the FBI even know anything at all? That was highly unlikely.
"Oh? I thought you knew everything about me."
"Well, there's a big, gaping hole before your 18th birthday," Peter said. And that was the way Neal wanted it.
"Enjoy the mystery."
"Oh, come on! You don't want to talk about him?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know. Start small. What did he do for a living?"
He had promised not to lie to Peter. He could leave it without an answer, but somehow he would love to see his face.
"My dad was a cop."
Peter faced him with his mouth open in a big surprise. Neal would have smiled if there had been more than that to smile about.
"A cop?!"
"You said start small." Though what Peter thought was a simple question was the backstory to one of the major reasons that he was a conman in the first place. "Have a nice day." He continued down the sidewalk.
"You c—" Peter started behind him.
"Nope."
"Come on! a cop?"
"No." He was not interested to discuss it further. Peter asked and he got a reply.
He refused to give Peter any more information during the whole lunch. It had been torture to have him as a company. It was with joy he left for home to make himself ready for their next meeting. Where, thankfully, Peter would not be able to ask.
When he saw Mozzie sitting by his table drinking wine for no obvious reason, he did not feel in his best forgiving mode.
"You know, I'd appreciate it if you'd replenish my supply when you diminish it."
"I'm wallowing," he answered. Neal took himself a glass. "Word on the street is you went to Randy Morosco for information."
Neal grinned and sat down beside him, pouring some of the wine to himself.
"Well, a unique black-market pigeon blood recently made its way to New York, and none of the local shops have anything like it."
"No one would try to sell a stone like that without cutting it first. It calls too much attention to itself."
"One would think. That's why Randy Morosco's the kind of guy that can help me find it."
"I'm a gem expert," Moz pointed out.
"That's true," Neal acknowledged. "And you asked to keep your distance from the FBI. I was doing you a favor."
"Oh, by conversing with my archrival?"
"Everyone's your archrival, Moz." Neal saw with amusement that this silenced his friend. The corners of Mozzie's mouth twisted, and he looked rather pleased.
"But I would like the chance at first veto on helping," he said.
"I will come to you first next time," Neal promised. He rose and went to the wardrobe, pulling off his suit jacket. "Hey, Moz."
"Yeah?"
"Are you ever curious about your birth parents?"
He heard a scoff.
"No, thanks. I don't need to look into the crystal ball of my future." Mozzie looked at him as he returned with a new shirt. "Are you heading down that road again?"
When they met he had had the conflict still in fresh memory and talked more than once about the subject.
"No, I was talking with Peter today, and my father came up."
"You want to lie down on the couch? I'll get my notepad."
"No, thanks, Dr. Freud." Neal changed shirts.
"I just find it fascinating, considering your patriarchal relationship with the Suit and your penchant for breaking the law," Moz said. "Does Peter know?"
"I said he was a cop."
"Ah," Moz took it in. "You gonna tell him? You know, he could be useful."
For what? Finding him? He wished he had been able to avoid Peter's question. He made a gesture for Moz to cut it. His friend stopped.
"So, Randy and the ruby. How long's it been since you've seen him?"
"Before I went to prison."
"Think he's gonna talk to you?"
"Of course," Neal said and grinned. "Provided I'm the guy he remembers."