White Collar - as an unofficial novel - part 3

The music box

Neal was at Avery's house again. It was full of the young, eager brats he had spent his last two weeks with. Tonight would be his last day with them. He did not mind to see them behind bars. They may not be ruthless all of them, but they were greedy and thought they had the right to trick other people of their money without a second thought.

Yes, Neal was aware of the irony, since he was a conman too, but he had got caught and was a convict, with every right. Still, Neal took pride in his history of never harming anyone.

He saw Peter mingle with Avery, heard something about Ferraris. He himself was stuck with Brad who for some reason seemed to adore him even more since he was exposed as a spy. That brat had to consider his priorities.

"What are you gonna do with your money?" Brad asked.

"Put it in a secure 401 K and mutual funds," Neal replied. "It's all about security, bro."

Brad gave him a glance as if he thought of him as a fifty-year-old man.

"I'm just messing with you, man," Neal grinned. "I'm gonna buy a cruise ship, hollow it and turn it into a floating mansion," he fabled. He had never given much thought to what he would do if got that amount of money.

"Damn," Brad said, impressed.

"How about you?"

"I'm gonna buy an island," he said, almost with a shrug.

"An island?"

"I'll learn how to play the guitar and chill."

A waitress with a big smile and a long, blond hair offered them a glass of white wine.

"You don't need an island for that," Neal told him while he took a glass and smiled at the woman.

"Don't kill the dream, broheim." They clinked their glasses and sipped.

Neal's eyes followed the waitress leaving with her tray of empty glasses.

"I got dibs on that one," he told Brad.

"Oh, yeah? Does she know that?"

"Since when does that matter?" Neal replied with a grin, repeating Brad's own line. Brad laughed and Neal followed the woman.

"You're gonna be back in time for the celebration, right?" Brad called after him.

Neal picked up the cigar case from his pocket.

"Wouldn't want this to go to waste."

Brad waved, grinned and left to talk to someone else.

When Neal saw that no eyes were upon him he placed the glass on first free space. He saw the waitress walk into the kitchen but he passed the door and continued downstairs to the comic room. Peter had described the way for him and he had seen the blueprints.

"Heading to the comics," he mumbled for Jones and the others in the van outside.

He entered the room and gazed around the walls. Nothing wrong with comic books but if he ever got rich he would buy art and maybe read comic books.

There was a table, just as Peter had said and on the table was an elegant wooden box. A cigar box.

Neal leaned his head on the side and studied it.

"No..." It was too easy. He opened the lid. Inside was a journal. No alarms seemed to had been set off. He had still air to breath. Avery got to have the ledger protected. Neal scanned the outside of the box. On the back, there was a wire.

"Tripwire," he mumbled. Made sense. He studied the inside and tried to figure out how not to set off the alarm. "Must be a pressure plate."

They were tricky in all its simplicity. He looked around. No one was coming and there was little he could use on the walls.