White Collar - as an unofficial novel - part 2

Work on a Saturday

Neal had still not been able to get rid of that cold lump he had in his body. He was used to playing dangerous games but now he had Tara involved. She was an innocent victim and he had no right to use her. For years he had been surrounded by people playing his game. If he asked them to take part in something they knew what they agreed to. Not so with Tara.

An FBI agent just finished searching fingerprints on the phone. It was packed in a sealed evidence bag.

"Nothing on the phone. It's a burner," Peter growled. "You can pick up one of these at any corner deli. Prints?"

"It's clean," the agent concluded and packed his equipment. "No other fingerprints than your consultant's." Lauren sighed.

Neal would have been surprised if they had found anything. They were talking about the Ghost, a criminal who had been active longer than he, but spread his crimes all over the world. They were also fewer but larger than anything Neal had ever done. FBI's list of Neal's crimes – alleged – during the three years they had chased him was hard to beat when it came to amount and skill, but not when it came to value in money.

Jones hurried into the room.

"Agent Burke?"

"What's up?" Peter asked.

"We had two plain clothes taking Tara home. Somebody got to them about a half hour ago."

Neal felt that cold lump spread into his body again. Peter banged down the file he was holding onto the table in frustration.

"Got to them how?"

"Blasted the car to hell. Fortunately, our guys were wearing vests." Agents had this as a job. It was a good thing they made it but Ghovat had not had them as his target.

"What about Tara?" Neal wanted to know.

"They grabbed her. Got away clean." So she made it at least. But now she was in the hands of a murderer.

Something buzzed.

They all halted and located where it came from. The phone on the table. The one from Ghovat. Neal exchanged a look with Peter who nodded. Neal grabbed the bag and pulled. At first, it felt like the plastic would not budge but then he tore a hole in it, yanking the phone out.

He answered the call but there was no need to say anything. Ghovat was no man of pleasantries.

"I have your girl. What's the dress worth to you now?"

Neal felt his heart thump inside his body. He met the eyes of Peter. He must have understood the message because he gestured for Jones and Lauren and they hurried out.

He heard the man on the other end of the phone breathe. Neal put the phone down on the table.

"So now what?"

The two agents returned with a laptop and a microphone.

"You want the girl, I want the dress," Ghovat's voice hissed in the room through the phone.

"Trade?" He exchanged a look with Peter, searching for advice. "Where and when?"

"I'm not interested in meeting with you."

"Then who?"

"Agent Peter Burke," Ghovat replied, putting emphasis on every single word. What? Neal had been there under a fake name.

"Why him?"

"Because it's really the FBI that holds the dress. And your real name is Neal Caffrey, is it not? Do you think I'm stupid? I saw you at the party, remember? And Neal Caffrey works for the FBI now. So stop wasting my time. Is he there now?"