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.

"Hey, guys," he whispered to the eagle. "I can just take the ledger and hope you guys get here in time, but I don't even know if you can hear me down here."

Peter sat with Avery in a huge leather armchair.

"Ten more minutes before we're rich," Avery said.

"We're already rich," Peter reminded him.

"Billionaire rich, man. Buffett rich. Think I might wanna go to space. Catch a ride on those Russian rockets up to the space station."

Peter glanced at the young man. He was about to get into a small, crowded area for sure, but more on the ground.

"You do that," he said. Then his phone was ringing. "Excuse me." He rose and grabbed the phone. "Edison."

"Yeah, heads up," Jones said. "Reed came through the front door."

"Hold your position, but be ready to move," Peter told him.

"You got it," he replied and ended the call.

Then Reed marched into the room.

"Avery."

"Reed. What's up?"

"You're a son of a bitch," Reed hissed.

Avery rose and approached his business partner.

"Why don't you ease back on the hostility?"

"What are you celebrating?" Reed demanded, hands on his hips. "We don't have anything to celebrate for another week."

"We're relaxing. I figured the boys could use a little reward for all their hard work."

Avery smiled towards the young man in the room, and a few raised their glasses.

"No," Reed shook his head. "I couldn't let this go. I know what you've been up to."

"Don't you come into my house bringing all this chaos." Avery's smile was all gone now. Peter moved towards the staircase, one step at a time.

"Shut up. I've been talking to your spy buddy."

Reed was not keeping it discreet and Avery did not seem to like it.

"My spy?" he repeated in a low voice. "My spy? You hired him. I'm just flipping him back on you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna play stupid with me?"

"You thought he worked for me?" Reed more or less yelled. "I never hired a spy!"

That was Peter's signal to leave. He heard Avery ask where Nick was, then he was down the stairs. He hurried down the corridor and turned the corner and saw Neal by the box in the comic book room.

"Neal!" he called out and ran towards the room. Neal stared at him for a second then he pulled the ledger out of the box, trigging the alarm. The polycarbonate glass wall lowered behind Peter just as he passed and then he heard a bullet hit it.

Behind him, outside the glass wall, were Avery and Reed. And Reed had just fired his shotgun into the bulletproof polycarbonate.

And now he was locked inside a room that would soon be out of air, together with Neal.

"All right," Peter said staying calm. "We need to find the kill switch."

Neal dug in his pocket and produced the mini-breather.

"Take this," he offered.

"No, no," Peter refused. "We look together. We share the oxygen until Jones comes."

"Not enough time. Five minutes for one, two and a half for two."

"No, Neal."

"We're wasting time!" Neal looked him into the eye. "Peter, I trust you."

Neal held out the gadget and Peter gave up arguing. He took the mini-breather and they started looking for the kill switch. While they worked through the rows of boxes and moved the frames Peter noted Avery and Reed remained on the other side as if they just waited to see them die. He met the eyes of Avery for a second and that kid sure looked forward to their death, no doubt about it.

He saw Neal trying to call out, but there was no air to transmit the sound. Neal pointed at a button on the wall. Then slid down the wall and fainted.

Peter rushed over to press the button but then he realized that Avery raised his rifle on the other side of the glass. The second he pushed the button, he would get shot. He shook the kid's shoulder. There was no response. He needed oxygen or he would die. Neal had given him the breather because he trusted him.

He pulled his gun, dropped the breather, aimed at Avery, and pressed the button.

Then he grabbed his gun with both hands and moved if Avery should fire.

"NOW! DROP YOUR WEAPON!" Jones yelled as he and Lauren and their troupe rounded the corner. When Avery had overcome the first surprise he actually took aim for Peter again. Reed already had his hands raised in surrender.

"Drop your weapon!" Jones repeated and Avery gave up and dropped the rifle.

"Hands in the air!"

Peter put his gun back and knelt on the floor beside the kid. He put his palm in front of his face. He felt the kid's breath.

"All right," Peter mumbled. Now he just needed the get his continuousness back.

"Come on, Neal. Come on." He wanted to tell the lungs to start working properly again, to take deep breaths.

Neal's eyes opened and he took a deep breath.

"Yeah, attaboy," Peter relaxed. "Breathe."

The kid looked at him.

"That was a long five minutes."

"Yeah."

Peter rose and pulled Neal to his feet. He swayed, and leaned against the table.

They watched Reed and Avery getting cuffed and followed the team upstairs. Peter had an arm around Neal's shoulders as he was still wobbly, and Brad the other young hotrods being cuffed stared. Brad would probably go to prison, but the other salesmen? Probably not. If they thought it was a legit sales job, and nothing else could be proven, the little fish would go. But as long as the big fish were caught, Peter did not mind.

It felt good to be out in the open air. It had felt strange and terrifying to breathe and not gain anything from it. It was not like holding your breath underwater, but breathing where there should be air and found nothing.

He and Peter sat down. He rubbed his eyes.

"What you did in there…" Peter said with admiration in his voice.

"Ah. I knew you'd take care of it."

"You're crazier than I am," his handler laughed. That was not hard. Neal laughed, too. Yeah, they were a crazy couple alright.

"You got my back, right?" Neal asked, suddenly in need of some extra comfort.

Peter nodded.

"Yeah."

Then he was silent as if there was more to come. Neal watched him, waiting.

"There's something I need to tell you. And I need you to listen to everything before you react."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"I know what he wants from you."

"Who?"

"The guy in the picture with Kate. You call him 'the man with the ring.'"

Neal stared. This was unexpected and confusing.

"How could you know that?"

Peter looked him in the eyes.

"Kate told me. And now I'm gonna tell you."

Neal reminded himself that Peter asked him to hear him out but this was like getting a bucket of cold water thrown at you.

"You talked to Kate?"

"The night you confronted Fowler."

So Peter had known about that too? Well, with his anklet it was not that difficult to put two and two together. Maybe he even had Jones on his tail. He had been too upset to be careful.

"Yeah, he said he was investigating you."

"He is," Peter nodded, dug in the pocket of his jacket and handed him a folded paper. Neal unfolded it and stared at the black-n-white photo of Kate and the hand with the ring.

"This picture was on my desk the same day that you had it."

What? When he had shown Peter this photo…

"And you never said anything."

"What was I gonna tell you?" he shrugged. "I recognized the ring. This guy with Kate is with the bureau. I started poking around, trying to figure out who it is."

"It's Fowler."

"I think so," Peter nodded.

Neal realized that even if Peter had kept things from him, his handler had worked for him and not against him, trying to find things out the way he thought best. His handler had never promised to tell him everything. Peter was a fed and he a convict. Neal felt he had nothing to blame Peter for. On the contrary.

"Yeah, you start digging around, that's when he bugged your phone."

"The phone, the OPR investigation, Mentor, all of it. He wanted to know what I was on to."

"That was Kate."

"I passed a word to her, saying I wanted to meet, talk about you."

This was over three weeks ago, Neal realized. Kate had called him at the office when they celebrated that he was back. Peter had driven him home. Had he then went to see Kate? Well, he had burst off to confront Fowler. Had Peter been able to meet because he knew that Fowler was not with Kate?

"What happened?" Neal asked in a whisper.

Peter sighed.

"I had rented a hotel room. I waited for her and she came. She pointed a gun at me, but I told her to put it down and, finally, she did. I asked her to leave you alone. She said she couldn't. I asked her what she wanted and that I could get it for her. She told me she wanted a thing you stole, a music box. 'That's my price' she said."

Neal breathed. He trusted Peter. He knew for sure that he could believe in Peter's story. Still, it all seemed so unlike Kate. Kate would never point a gun at anyone. And say 'that's my price', 'my' not 'his'.

"He's controlling her," Neal insisted. Kate could not do this to him. Peter had been there, she was playing Peter.

"I don't think so," Peter shook his head.

"She's not working for him."

"When are you gonna face the facts?" Peter asked. "She may not be on your side."

"You're wrong!"

"Oh, damn it, Neal, come on!" Peter got to his feet, frustration glowing about him. "I looked into her eyes. I didn't see concern for you."

"No. This is an angle." He could not handle the idea that Kate had done this to him by her own free will. It did not make any sense. Then she could just have asked him for the box.

"He's controlling her," Neal said, in spite of he had just told the kid.

"I don't think so," Peter said gently.

"She's not working for him," the kid persisted.

"When are you gonna face the facts?" Peter asked. "She may not be on your side." The man who so humbly accepted that he was under arrest, that he had been mistaken about Peter's part in the story, could not see and accept what was right in front of his eyes this time.

"You're wrong!"

"Oh, damn it, Neal, come on!" Peter jumped to his feet, frustated on the verge of angry. One of the smartest guys on the planet and still so naive and stupid when it came to love.

"I looked into her eyes. I didn't see concern for you."

"No. This is an angle."

Peter huffed. Alright, be as it may with that.

"She wants this music box," Peter turned focus to what could be solved. "Do you know where it is?"

"I might," Neal replied, avoiding eye contact.

"Come on. You're gonna cut me off now?" Peter barked. What do you think of me? That I'll arrest you for something you stole years ago, that I ask you to use?

It was as if Neal heard Peter's thoughts. He closed his eyes for a second and nodded.

"I know where it is."

"Good," Peter breathed. "So, what is it?"

"Catherine the Great had a room in St. Petersburg made of amber. You've heard of it?"

"Yeah. Dubbed the eighth wonder of the world. The Nazis looted it in World War ll."

"One of the things they took was an amber music box."

"It's gotta be worth a few bucks."

"Yeah," Neal nodded. "But not enough for all this."

No, Peter had to agree to that. Why had Fowler not sent this Tulane to steal the box, instead of the necklace to frame Neal? If he did not know where it was, he took a great deal of trouble to find it. More than it could be worth in itself. Why?

"There's something inside it," Peter realized and smiled.

"It's holding some secret."

"I wanna see it," Peter said. Stolen goods or not, this was a mystery he just had to solve.

Neal looked at him, not that amused.

"I'm gonna need some time."

"But you'll keep me within the loop?"

"Peter…"

"I'm not gonna cuff you for this, Neal. I told you I don't want to frame you for something you did before your first arrest, remember?"

Neal gave him an odd look.

"It's complicated, Peter."

"Okay."

When Neal came home that afternoon he felt light-hearted and pleased. He could trust Peter and Peter had worked to help him, even if that did not mean that he shared more info than he felt he needed to. And finally, Neal knew what was asked of him to get Kate back. Things were moving towards a solution instead of constant agony.

There was a Mozzie-knock on the door and Neal opened.

"Well, it's ready," his friend said and stepped inside. "Are you running?"

Mozzie sure looked like he was ready to leave in proper outdoor clothing and all. Neal smiled when he realized he had forgotten about the frustration and the thoughts of running. He pulled up the leg of his pants and showed Mozzie the anklet.

"You folded," Mozzie sighed. "You're back in chains."

"Yeah. I have to see this one through."

"Okay. What have I missed?"

"Fowler wants Catherine the Great's music box."

"Oh, that. A good looking piece. One of your best jobs. How do you know?"

"Peter talked to Kate."

"Oh. She could tell the Suit but not you?"

Neal shrugged. That was a mystery yet to be solved, but Peter had different ways and different channels.

"So Fowler wants the music box, let's give it to him. Where is it?"

Neal made an embarrassed face.

"I… don't have it," he confessed.

"What?" Moz stared at him. "You told everyone you had it."

"I never told anyone," Neal pointed out. "Everyone assumed I took it and I… never corrected them."

Mozzie, being one of those he never corrected, let this new information settle. He folded his arms and glanced and Neal with a smile lurking.

"It did make you appear superhuman."

Neal made an apologetic shrug.

"Image is everything."

Mozzie's smile was as wide as his face.

"Now what?" his friend asked.

"Now I find the music box."

"And steal it?"

Neal did not reply, just gave his friend a look. Mozzie grinned and gave him a gracious nod.

"Welcome back."

This is the end of Part III. I'll continue with Part IV but it will, as always between parts, take some time, since I need to plan the chapters and get the raw dialog in place before I can get started with the writing. Thank you so much for your support. It means a lot to me. (Fav me as a writer, and I think you get a message when I post the next part.)

If Jeff Eastin, Matt Bomer, Tim DeKay, Willie Garson or any of you from White Collar for some odd reason should come across this, please don't kill me. I'm just a passionate fan showing my appreciation.