White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 9

I can't protect you

Moz held their ruby as if it was a photo of a grandchild. Neal took the necklace out of his hands.

"All right, let's walk through this, Liz Taylor," he said. "Diana says the diplomatic pouch departs New York tomorrow on the 11:00 A.M. Air Bagan flight to Burma." Diana had been more than cooperative and not asked any questions.

"Also on the passenger list is a miss Suu Ram," Moz continued and lifted a few pages from the big bad on Neal's aisle and showed a bunch of photos of Suu leaving the embassy. Not that he did not know what she or the place looked like, but it was always an advantage to have visuals.

"Ah, she's transporting the pouch personally," he said.

"The ambassador's limousine will drive her directly from the consulate to the plane, which only leaves us a few moments between the consulate and the limo to acquire its contents."

Neal looked at the photos during Mozzie's show-n-tell. They had no photo of Suu carrying a diplomatic pouch, so Moz had drawn one on the photos. He leaned closer.

"Is that a cat?" Suu held a drawn square with what looked like a cat's head.

"No!" Moz protested. "It's the pouch with the Burmese crest. A cogwheel and a rice plant."

"Looks like a cat."

"It's not. Anything in the pouch is the property of Burma, stolen or not. You remove the drive, you're creating an international incident."

Neal grinned.

"So, I get Suu Ram to do it for me using our ruby." He pulled it off from the necklace. The Burmese would not know what their real ruby looked like any longer.

"Oh, to take my heart would be less painful."

"We can always make another one," Neal grinned. Moz had the equipment now. He placed the ruby in a nice padded wooden box. "I say it's the Mandalay just back from evidence, give her a quick look, close the lid on the box, and she places it in the pouch."

Mozzie took the box and closed the clasp.

"Unbeknownst to her, the box also contains a finite amount of ammonia and hydrochloric acid. Moments after the clasp on the box is closed, the liquids mix, and..." They both looked at the little box. "And..."

"Shouldn't a smoke bomb make smoke?" Neal asked.

"Patience."

Patience was not Neal's greatest asset.

"In theory, Suu Ram spots smoke coming from the pouch, dumps the contents onto American soil, and I reclaim the external drive as stolen evidence."

"Thus proving our brilliance."

There was a knock on the door.

Mozzie pulled down the papers over the photos and held the box inside his jacket. It looked odd, but...

He opened the door.

"Peter," Neal smiled at him. "Hey..."

"Neal," Peter grinned and walked passed him. Neal closed the door. "Mozzie." When Neal turned he saw that smoke rising out from Mozzie's jacket. Peter stared. "What you doing?"

Neal gestured to Mozzie but in vain.

"Discussing Hegel and his rational realism. You?"

"Casual stroll," Peter answered. "You're smoking."

If Peter was not already on to their plan he sure would now.

"It's a smoking jacket," Mozzie returned.