White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 8

Finding Fowler

Diana walked into his office and held up a newspaper. 'Long Lost Russian Music Box Mysteriously Returned to Museum' said the headline. Peter stared at the photo of an amber box he knew too well.

"Russian heritage museum received an anonymous gift," she said giving him the paper. "Seems an antique music box was left in their delivery drop."

Peter sighed. At least the kid had not kept it. He had not stolen it himself but whoever did had not had any trouble to leave the treasure. Who was the thief? Mozzie? He could not see the short fellow do burglary entries that way.

"They're doing a public showing Sunday?" he read from the paper.

"By invitation only, before they ship it back to St. Petersburg."

Peter sighed again and glared at Neal out in the office.

"Thanks," he told Diana and got to his feet. He walked to the railing. The kid was sitting on a colleague's desk, talking. "Neal. Get up here."

When the young convict entered his room he shoved the paper up to his face.

"You knew the Russians would want to show this off," he said, stating a fact. "You're trying to lure Fowler out."

Neal blinked and glanced at the paper.

"Someone is."

"Oh, would you stop?" Why could the kid never, ever accept the fact that he was caught in the act even if there were no hard-core proof?

Neal had attitude enough to shrug.

"You can skip the viewing."

"Oh, no," Peter returned, glaring at the young, foolish man in front of him. "I'll be there, but you won't. You're a liability. You're benched."

Reality dawned for the kid and his relaxed smile disappeared.

"You can't pull me off this, Peter."

It was not begging, it was a command, a fact. But his pet convict was in no position to state these things as if they were the truth.

"I can do whatever I want with you," Peter stated in return, and this was a real, true fact from an FBI agent to a convict. "You're lucky that I don't put you in lock-down. Get out."

Neal did not say anything. He dropped the paper on the desk and left the room. Peter watched him pick up his hat and leave the office in total. That was not what he had meant, but Peter was not going to call him back.

Neal watched Diana's back and Peter's face. He got eye contact and it felt like it was eyes that could burn holes. Yet, Peter would have no proof that he did anything. Diana left the room and Peter walked out and gave him the two-finger point.

"Neal. Get up here!"

"Wish me luck," he mumbled to the agent he had been talking to, who gave him a grin in return. He met Diana on the way up to Peter. What she thought to things was hard to tell.

When he entered Peter's office the agent handed him a newspaper. He had seen it already. It was about the music box.

"You knew the Russians would want to show this off," Peter said. "You're trying to lure Fowler out."

"Someone is." Neal agreed.

"Oh, would you stop?" Peter barked. Neal glanced at him. No, he would not stop, because if he did he would end up in prison and neither of them wanted that.

"You can skip the viewing," he suggested. It would be better if he faced Fowler alone.

"Oh, no. I'll be there, but you won't," Peter said. "You're a liability. You're benched." It took a few seconds before Neal understood what Peter had said. And he did not believe it. It was something said in anger, because as a fed Peter could not accept that it had advantages to be con-man.