White Collar - as an unofficial novel - part 3

Joyau Precieux

Neal had been thinking all night and the next day as well. He had been at his desk working on a case and had had a hard time focusing. Peter had called him up to his room and asked him what was up.

"I wish something was up," Neal replied. "That case is boring."

"Boring enough for you to zoom out and do nothing? Neal, even on the most boring cases I've given you, you've always stayed focused, doing your job. Not now. Why?"

"Meilin and that empty flash drive." Neal shrugged. "Got my head in a spin I guess."

Peter had nodded.

"I promised you to help you find her," Peter said.

"She called me..." Neal hesitated. He trusted Peter. And he wanted Peter to trust him. Not hiding things was a good start.

"Kate?"

"No, Meilin. She said the man who got Kate was FBI."

"No name?"

Neal shook his head.

"I'll look into it, but it's a long-shot, Neal. If she's got nothing to back her story up..."

"I know."

Peter had reacted as he thought he would.

The next morning he walked with Mozzie to eat some breakfast. It was Saturday and his friend had found a new place.

Moz was everything Peter was not.

"So the guy who has Kate is in the FBI?" he said more as a statement than a question.

"Apparently," Neal agreed. He did not know, but still, he found it likely. It must be someone with resources and influence.

"This confirms everything."

Of course, Mozzie would think that.

"Moz, take it easy."

"If you lay with dogs, you get up with fleas."

"I could live without the fortune-cookie commentary."

Kate got in trouble with this man with the ring long before he got to work with the FBI.

"Now you understand my fear of the man. You're back with us, my friend. The fearful masses. Welcome back."

Neal did not feel like he belonged among some fearful masses, never had.

"Suspects?" Mozzie asked.

"How many field offices does the FBI have?"

"Fifty-six, not including resident agencies."

"Then I have a lot of suspects." Thousands of them. A depressing thought.

"How do we draw him out?" His friend sounded eager to set a trap.

"We don't. It's his move."

Peter finished up his breakfast as he picked up his phone to call Neal.

"Morning, Peter," he heard the kid's voice in the other end. He heard sounds of traffic in the background.

"Where are you?"

"Well within my 2-mile radius," Neal replied. "Where are you?"

"I'm at my dining room table. Listen, we've got a suspected jewelry heist."

Which meant work, even if it was Saturday. It was not a matter if Neal had other plans or not. If Peter went to work, then so did Neal. Besides, the more he kept Neal occupied with FBI stuff, the better. But there was no protest from his pet convict.