White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 9

Superman

Neal was not so sure that Peter's plan, whatever it was, would work. Even though he admired the agent, the man was still an agent. He was used to flashing his badge and doing things as part of a larger authority.

Since Peter could not do that any longer, Neal wanted a backup plan, just in case. And spend his time as they walked down to the Rodgers Yacht Club. Peter seemed to listen and nodded in the right places, but still, the man looked too uninterested and confident in his own plan.

"You get the plan, Peter?"

"I do," he nodded. "I do." Then he smiled towards the guard at the entry of the club. "Hello."

"Sorry, sir. Members only."

"They're with me," a woman's voice from the docks behind the guard. "Sara Ellis, Sterling Bosch Insurance." She held a membership card between her fore- and long finger, walking towards them in a slim dress and high heels. The guard nodded and opened for them. Neal watched Peter; the man both knew that Sara had access to the yacht club and had not felt the need to tell him that Sara would be involved.

"Hi, Sara," Peter said.

"Hi, Peter," she smiled. Her eyes turned to him, smiling less. "Neal. It's been a while." The razor tongue was back. She leaned forward, the corner of her mouth twitching: "Nice to see you fully clothed. Love the hat."

Neal found Peter's mouth open, staring at him. Neal just winked and walked down to the docks. He had been in his pajama pants and both had had other things on their mind than sex, but he was flattered that she had noticed.

They walked down to the jetty where she was.

"So... You're a member?" Neal asked.

"My company insures a number of yachts here."

"Thanks for the assist," Peter said.

"I owe you one."

Neal could not help wonder what Peter had helped her with. As far as he knew, Sara had helped the FBI. Because she wanted the insured things to be found so she got the reward, but still, Peter should owe her.

"That's our guy," Peter said, spotting their man on a huge yacht. "Prince Bilal."

"A prince, huh?" If Sara expected princes to wear robes and a spectacular crown she must be disappointed. Princes these days wore slick gray suits. Funny, considering that suits were from the beginning the cheap choice, having the same fabric in both jacket and pants.

"I've been a prince," he said.

"When was that?" Sara asked.

"Yeah, when was that?" Peter's voice was not amused. Neal hid a smile. It was so fun to make Peter think he had missed something vital in his criminal career.

"You want me to talk to him?" he asked his handler.

"Why you?"

"'Cause of your... situation."

"What's wrong?" Sara caught the barely hidden complication.

Bilal left his yacht and walked towards the clubhouse.

"You make it sound like I'm dying," Peter blamed Neal. "Things are complicated at the FBI," he told Sara, "but I don't need a badge to do good detective work."

"All right, then what's your in?"

"He likes horses," he replied. "Keep an eye on his boat." And by that, he took his jacket over his shoulder and left them. Amazing how a man usually in a suit and tie could do so well in a polo shirt.