White Collar - as an unofficial novel - part 2

Weekend

It was a sunny Saturday. Neal guessed he should be pleased that Kate's clue led to a place within his radius. But Grand Central Station was not a small place. It was grand.

"Kate leaves you a bottle with a map on it, and this is where it leads us?" Mozzie expressed his frustration. "Grand Central Station?"

"It's something I'd recognize, Moz. Something significant."

"Significant? Grand Central Station!" Yes, it was significant, but not in that way.

"Something familiar," Neal corrected his statement

"She could have sent us anywhere, so she sends us to a place that leads everywhere?" Moz gaggled. Neal did not listen. He had seen something. Something familiar. An X. A metal structure, a pillar, with an X at the end.

"Moz."

The friend did not see it.

"You know, there's a great oyster bar in there—"

Neal jammed the bottle in Mozzie's hands and stepped up in the corner behind the pillar close to the wall where it ended. He felt with his hand in a small space under the X.

"I think there's something in here," he told Mozzie with excitement when he felt a piece of paper in there.

"X marks the spot?" Moz gazed. "Again?"

Neal got a grip of the paper and pulled it out.

"Kate likes the classics."

He sat down with Moz at his side and unfolded the paper. Neal had time to see it was a letter before his friend pulled it from his hands and read it to him.

"'Dear Neal. Heard you're looking for me. Wish I could explain more, but time is not on our side. But you need to stop looking. No one can deny what we have, but it's over. Please move on. Kate.'"

"All this for 'move on'?" He could not believe it.

"Oddly bipolar," Mozzie agreed. "I'd rather have some oysters."

Neal reread the letter. It did not make any sense. And most of all, it did not felt like Kate. It was her handwriting, but it was something about how it was written. And why leave a clue hidden on the wine bottle to tell him this? She had left the clue before she knew he had escaped from prison to find her. She had left it for him to find when he got out. It could not be a 'heard you're looking for me'. Unless she changed the message afterward. It was a possibility. She could have changed her mind.

"You know, your FBI-friend will check your anklet," Mozzie interrupted his thoughts. "And I know you don't want to lie to him. So why don't we go and have some oysters and you can tell the truth?"

"It's Saturday," Neal pointed out. "Why would he care as long as I'm within my radius?"

"Because you're Neal Caffrey, the greatest con-man ever lived."

And because it was Peter, Neal thought. But it was a weekend. No work. Sure Peter could leave him alone at least a little?

"Well, oysters are a little over my budget, Moz."

"Mine too. Who cares? I'll buy."

Mozzie rose and yanked his arm to get him moving. Well, Peter could not put him back in prison for eating for someone else's stolen money, could he? They walked to the oyster bar and ordered. Or rather Mozzie ordered. Neal was gone in thoughts.

"It makes no sense," he pointed out again.

"No, but did you know there are over three hundred varieties of oysters in North America alone? It takes its flavor from the sea, and it tastes different depending on where it came from."