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elrhiarhodanTitle: Return and Rebuild the Desolate Places – Chapter Eighteen
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, Mozzie, Reese Hughes, Clinton Jones, Diana Berrigan, Olivia Benson (L&O: SVU), Section Chief Bruce (McKinsey) Original Characters
Spoilers: White Collar, all of Season 5; no specific spoilers for L&O: SVU, but set in Season 15
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Kidnapping, torture (off-camera), rape (off-camera),
Word Count: This chapter – ~2700
Beta Credit:coffeethyme4me, miri_thompson, sinfulslasher, theatregirl7299
Story Summary: Six months after Neal disappears, Peter still has no answers and his decision not to go to Washington has had significant repercussions for both his career and his marriage.
Chapter Summary: Neal doesn’t want to go back to sleep and begs the nurse not to sedate him. Peter extracts a promise from him to behave, making the sedation unnecessary. Olivia waits and watches as Moz and Hughes make a deal for twelve million in counterfeit Franklins.
__________________
Previous Chapters: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen |
A/N: Title from Alan Hovhaness’ wind concerto, which takes it from the Old Testament. New chapters will be posted to my LJ every Thursday and to the relevant communities on Fridays.
Art bykanarek13
Sometime in Late January – Late Wednesday Afternoon
The remnants of the nightmare were still wrapped around his consciousness like a heavy fog and Neal was afraid to breathe, to blink, to do anything that would change this reality and send him back to that terrible place.
“I’m here, I’m here, Neal.”
He started to shake, he couldn’t control the trembling and he clung to Peter like he was a life line. And maybe he was. Through endless days and nights, through the deliberate and systematic destruction of his mind and body, he’d held on to the hope that Peter would somehow find him; that at the end of this ordeal, Peter would be there to pick him up and help him survive.
Deliberately not thinking about any of the reasons for Peter’s absence, he tried to focus on the fact that Peter was here, in his room, by his bed, holding his hand. That he was safe now. He relaxed, but he didn’t let go of Peter’s hand. He didn’t take his eyes off Peter, who was staring at him with so much love and concern.
Then reality intruded. A nurse was bending over him with a syringe in her hand. “Mr. Caffrey, we’re going to give you a sedative. It will make you calmer.”
“No, NO!” He struggled. “NO – I don’t want a sedative, please.”
“You need to relax, you’re only going to injure yourself if you don’t.”
“Please, no. Don’t – ”
Peter, blessed, blessed Peter, intervened. “If Neal stays quiet, does he have to have that?”
The nurse sighed. “The problem is that he doesn’t stay quiet – that’s why there’s a standing order. He gets agitated and starts to get out of bed. If he does, he’s going to fall and the tube in his lungs will get torn out. There’s also the infection risk.”
Peter looked at him, his face grave and filled with worry. “Neal, do you promise me that you’ll stay in bed and you won’t try to get up? You’ll behave yourself?”
He actually felt his lips curl into a smile. “Yeah, I will.” But he had to ask, “You’ll stay, though?”
Peter smiled. “Are you making your good behavior conditional, Caffrey?”
Neal had feared he’d never again hear Peter say his name with that combination of affection and exasperation. “No, but I’d feel better knowing that you were here.”
Something dark and sad crossed Peter’s eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Neal. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”
At Peter’s vow, the world seemed to disappear – the nurse standing by with the syringe, the machines beeping, even the ever-present sounds of the hospital – all just fell away. “Thank you.”
He closed his eyes, exhausted again, but trusting that Peter would be there when he woke.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Sometime in Late January – Early Thursday Morning
Olivia watched from her hiding place, behind a wall of empty storage drums in an abandoned warehouse in Hunts Point. They’d equipped the space with cameras and she was able to watch the entire operation in relative comfort. Except that it was two in the morning, as cold as Hell and Neal Caffrey’s friends were getting set to meet with the man’s kidnappers.
She didn’t like the idea of involving civilians in an operation, although she had to admit that Reese Hughes barely qualified as a civilian. He was a thirty-five year veteran of the FBI and her own contacts in the Bureau spoke his name with awe. The little guy, Moz or Mozzie, though, was clearly a civilian.
She wasn’t really sure what to make of him, but he strongly reminded her of her retired squad mate, John Munch. Like Munch, he was paranoid and fiercely intelligent with an almost pathological disdain for the trappings of authority. But there was a difference, too – Mozzie’s cynicism was tempered by a deep well of affection for his friend. Munch’s heart had been ripped out too many times to leave much softness behind.
And regardless of any similarities between Munch and Moz, Moz didn’t belong in the middle of a dangerous operation. But she had no choice. The go-between for the counterfeiters was squirrely and barely seemed to trust Mozzie, let alone Hughes. If he knew that the NYPD was involved, he’d rabbit and they’d never get the bastards.
The moment was not without some humor. Over her earpiece, Olivia heard Moz introduce Hughes simply as his “twin brother.” It was ridiculous, but it seemed to diffuse some of the tension on the warehouse floor. Brinker stopped pacing and biting at his thumbnail.
“Your guys are late.” That was from Hughes, who was the designated heavy in this operation.
“They’ll be here. No worries.” Brinker sounded almost smug.
“I have the feeling we’re being set up. I can smell ‘cop’, can’t you?” Hughes grumbled at Mozzie. This was all part of the script.
“You want out? Because if you do, there’s the door. Don’t need you or your cash.” Moz was playing along perfectly, and Olivia had to wonder just what his background was. She’d never seen a civilian quite this cool in such a high-stakes op.
“I’m in, don’t worry. But if this goes south, I’ll have your hide tacked to my mantle and I’ll use your skull as an ashtray.”
Olivia had to cover her mouth to stifle her laugh at this extraordinary and out of character speech delivered in such casual and deadpan tones. She took a quick look around, the handful of NYPD and the Treasury Agents waiting to pounce were also desperately trying not to succumb to the humor of the moment.
Mozzie didn’t make it any better. “Well, at least it’ll improve the decorating in that monstrosity you call ‘home’. How all of your highbrow, blue-blood neighbors allowed that thing to be built is beyond me.”
Hughes chuckled, and the lack of humor in that sound sent the hair on the back of Olivia’s neck straight up. “De gustibus non disputandum est, mon frère.”
Moz snapped back, “Oooh, I’m impressed. You’re mixing Latin and French.”
Brinker interrupted the men’s banter. “Shut up, you two – someone’s coming.”
And indeed, someone was. Two pairs of headlights illuminated the warehouse’s fitful gloom. A white Ford Econoline van drove in, followed by a black Mercedes. Olivia couldn’t believe the balls of these guys – or the stupidity. They actually held onto the vehicle used in the kidnapping and then used to transport Caffrey before they dumped him.
An older man, someone who looked to be the same vintage as Hughes, got out of the Mercedes. A younger guy, wearing what looked like cowboy boots, hopped out of the van. From this distance and with the lack of light, she couldn’t really see their faces. Not that it mattered.
Over her earpiece, she could hear the conversation.
It was the older man who opened the talks, and not surprisingly, he had a European accent – boarding school English overlaying something Slavic. “So, Brinker – you’ve brought two friends. That surprises me.”
“No names, man – come on, you know the rules. No fucking names,” Brinker whined and Olivia started to worry. If Brinker freaked out, this could turn into a bloodbath.
The Slav, for lack of a better name, held up his hand in a mollifying gesture. “Sorry, my friend. Didn’t mean any harm. I’m just surprised. Last week, when we first arranged this, it was just supposed to be one buyer, not two. That troubles me.”
Hughes stepped in, and Olivia wasn’t surprised when he spoke to the Slav in what was probably the other man’s own language. Of course she didn’t understand a word of it, but apparently, whatever he said seemed to diffuse the man’s concerns. Actually – there was one word she understood, tovarich.
Comrade.
So, maybe they were speaking Russian.
Mozzie interrupted them. “I don’t care if you’re discussing plans to re-enact the battle scenes from War and Peace, but I’m here to do business. In English.”
The Slav laughed. “You Americans are always so impatient. Nothing wrong with catching up on some news about the Motherland.”
“You can reminisce all you want about the whores you fucked in the shadow of the Kremlin, but only when we’re done here. I’ve got places to go,” Moz grumbled.
Hughes stepped in. “Keep a civil tongue in your head. And if you have better places to be, other things you’d rather be doing, you’re free to go. I need you as much as you need me.”
“And by that, you don’t need me at all,” Moz replied. If Olivia didn’t know that this was part of a well-thought out plan, she’d have believed that the two men really despised each other.
The Slav finally relented. “Hmmm, maybe you’re right. Let’s do this the American way – business first, pleasure later.” He made a gesture to Cowboy Boots and the man went to the back of the van. Olivia didn’t like that and she gave a subtle signal to her team to be ready.
But Cowboy Boots didn’t come back wielding a semi-automatic, he was carrying two large black bags and dropped them on the ground. He disappeared again and came back with two more bags. “That’s four million. All Franklins, 1991 series, non-sequential serial numbers, appropriately aged.” Those were the first words that Cowboy Boots had spoken.
Interesting, Caffrey nailed the accent – or the lack thereof – just right. Not a New Yorker or a Midwesterner or a Southerner. The cadence of his words seemed off, too. Maybe English wasn’t his first language.
Mozzie’s whining interrupted her thoughts. “I was told it was twelve million, not four. I came all the way out here for what, a measly share of squat?”
“Relax, my friend – this is only a third of what we have. The rest is in the truck. Which we’ll be happy to give you.” The Slav was in appeasement mode.
“We are going to check every bag and packet, you understand.” That was Hughes.
“Then it’s going to be a very long night.”
“I don’t care. Or should I say, we don’t care.”
“Then, gentlemen, I suggest you get started.”
Olivia relaxed and hoped that it wouldn’t take all night to go through the bundles of cash. The Treasury people were insistent on this step. There was nothing illegal about selling currency, per se, and while selling packets of paper covered with decoy bills might lead to a count of intent to defraud, that was a far cry from the host of Federal charges that could be brought for creating and distributing counterfeit currency.
Hughes and Mozzie got to work, and Moz kept up a stream of irritating comments. Periodically, Hughes would quietly tell him to shut up. It took about forty-five minutes to go riffle through each bundle of counterfeit currency in the first four bags– making sure that the packets weren’t filled with blank pieces of paper. When they were done, Cowboy Boots took out four more. And finally, the last four.
The Slav, who’d remained silent and watchful for the entire process, spoke. “And what do you think? Does this meet your expectations?”
According to plan, Hughes answered. “I am impressed. Our friend here – ”, Hughes tilted his head towards Brinker, “provided a sample and I found it hard to believe that it wasn’t the real thing. When he told me that he knew someone that had twelve million to move, I almost walked away. It seemed too good to be true. I’m glad it isn’t.”
Olivia sent a signal to the team – “too good to be true” was the first code phrase. They were getting ready to close the deal.
The Slav seemed pleased. “Thank you. And now, my friends, I think it’s time to see your money.”
Moz walked out of her view, but she could hear his grumbling and grousing through her earpiece. He came back, hefting a slim briefcase. With a grunt, he dropped it on top of one of the empty barrels that littered the abandoned space. “Your money.” Moz opened the case, and even in the monitors, Olivia could see the light glint off the rows of gold coins.
The Slav was close enough to Hughes that she could hear his sigh of satisfaction. He approached and that satisfaction seemed to turn sour. “The deal was for five million. You are short by about four million.”
“There’s a million dollars in Krugerrands there. The perfect currency. Untraceable and quite likely to increase in value.”
“It’s not enough.”
“Moz.”
The little guy grumbled and retrieved a second case, slamming it down on top of the first.
Cowboy Boots entered the conversation. “You got another one of those back there?”
Hughes and Moz ignored the comment. “This is our final offer – take it or walk away.”
But Cowboy Boots wasn’t inclined to be ignored. “You know, we could take this, and the currency, and leave three bodies behind.”
Olivia brought the team to full readiness. This was turning bad. Except that the Slav stepped in. “My partner here likes guns and killing. I don’t. I also like the old expression about two in the hand – how does it go? Two in the hand is worth more than?”
“I think the expression you’re looking for is ‘a bird in the hand is worth more than two in the bush’,” Hughes replied laconically.
“Right, right. Two million in gold will do just fine. And we can do business again in the future, tovarich?”
“With goods that are this quality, I’d think so.”
Olivia was getting frustrated – the team had been on standby for too long and were losing their edge. They could wrap this up right now, if only one of that dynamic duo would give the code phrase.
Cowboy Boots, in a modest display of strength, hoisted both briefcases – each one weighed about forty-five pounds. He was heading for the Mercedes, but stopped and turned back. “You know, it’s really kind of funny – you of all people being the buyer.”
“Me?” Hughes asked.
“No, Short Stuff here. Considering who did the engraving work.”
Olivia couldn’t believe her ears. Was this guy going to talk about Caffrey?
“What do you mean? Moz spat out.
“You had a friend, Neal Caffrey, right?”
“I did. He disappeared.”
“Because I made him disappear. That day – right after you walked away from him. He came up to me, wanted to know why I was following him. Took two seconds to get him into the van. Took a month to break him. Took another five more months to use him up like a tube of toothpaste.”
“Where is he?”
Olivia held her breath, praying that Moz wouldn’t do or say something stupid and blow this operation to Hell and back.
“Caffrey? Dumped him like a piece of garbage on a back street off of the West Side Highway. Probably in the morgue, or on his way to Potter’s Field.”
Olivia was about to close in without waiting for the code phrase, but Hughes gave it anyway. “I think we’re done here. It’s been a pleasure.”
She gave the go-ahead to the team and they burst out of hiding, guns drawn, shouting orders for everyone to get down on their knees, hands behind their heads. Even Moz and Hughes, although they really had no reason to. Cowboy Boots started cursing and struggling and Olivia half-wished he’d make a break for it so she could shoot him. But someone got the cuffs on him.
The Treasury agents seemed far more interested in the black bags and the two cases of Krugerrands they’d provided, though she suspected that they were probably going to be facing a pissing contest over who got first crack at the prisoners.
It didn’t matter. They had Cowboy Boots’ confession on tape. He’d kidnapped Neal Caffrey, he’d overseen the torture and then left him for dead. She didn’t care if the time he served for counterfeiting ran concurrently.
Not in the least.
TO BE CONTINUED
Go to Chapter Nineteen
Author:
elrhiarhodan Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke, Mozzie, Reese Hughes, Clinton Jones, Diana Berrigan, Olivia Benson (L&O: SVU), Section Chief Bruce (McKinsey) Original Characters
Spoilers: White Collar, all of Season 5; no specific spoilers for L&O: SVU, but set in Season 15
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Kidnapping, torture (off-camera), rape (off-camera),
Word Count: This chapter – ~2700
Beta Credit:
coffeethyme4me, miri_thompson, sinfulslasher, theatregirl7299 Story Summary: Six months after Neal disappears, Peter still has no answers and his decision not to go to Washington has had significant repercussions for both his career and his marriage.
Chapter Summary: Neal doesn’t want to go back to sleep and begs the nurse not to sedate him. Peter extracts a promise from him to behave, making the sedation unnecessary. Olivia waits and watches as Moz and Hughes make a deal for twelve million in counterfeit Franklins.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen |
A/N: Title from Alan Hovhaness’ wind concerto, which takes it from the Old Testament. New chapters will be posted to my LJ every Thursday and to the relevant communities on Fridays.
Art by
kanarek13Sometime in Late January – Late Wednesday Afternoon
The remnants of the nightmare were still wrapped around his consciousness like a heavy fog and Neal was afraid to breathe, to blink, to do anything that would change this reality and send him back to that terrible place.
“I’m here, I’m here, Neal.”
He started to shake, he couldn’t control the trembling and he clung to Peter like he was a life line. And maybe he was. Through endless days and nights, through the deliberate and systematic destruction of his mind and body, he’d held on to the hope that Peter would somehow find him; that at the end of this ordeal, Peter would be there to pick him up and help him survive.
Deliberately not thinking about any of the reasons for Peter’s absence, he tried to focus on the fact that Peter was here, in his room, by his bed, holding his hand. That he was safe now. He relaxed, but he didn’t let go of Peter’s hand. He didn’t take his eyes off Peter, who was staring at him with so much love and concern.
Then reality intruded. A nurse was bending over him with a syringe in her hand. “Mr. Caffrey, we’re going to give you a sedative. It will make you calmer.”
“No, NO!” He struggled. “NO – I don’t want a sedative, please.”
“You need to relax, you’re only going to injure yourself if you don’t.”
“Please, no. Don’t – ”
Peter, blessed, blessed Peter, intervened. “If Neal stays quiet, does he have to have that?”
The nurse sighed. “The problem is that he doesn’t stay quiet – that’s why there’s a standing order. He gets agitated and starts to get out of bed. If he does, he’s going to fall and the tube in his lungs will get torn out. There’s also the infection risk.”
Peter looked at him, his face grave and filled with worry. “Neal, do you promise me that you’ll stay in bed and you won’t try to get up? You’ll behave yourself?”
He actually felt his lips curl into a smile. “Yeah, I will.” But he had to ask, “You’ll stay, though?”
Peter smiled. “Are you making your good behavior conditional, Caffrey?”
Neal had feared he’d never again hear Peter say his name with that combination of affection and exasperation. “No, but I’d feel better knowing that you were here.”
Something dark and sad crossed Peter’s eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Neal. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”
At Peter’s vow, the world seemed to disappear – the nurse standing by with the syringe, the machines beeping, even the ever-present sounds of the hospital – all just fell away. “Thank you.”
He closed his eyes, exhausted again, but trusting that Peter would be there when he woke.
Sometime in Late January – Early Thursday Morning
Olivia watched from her hiding place, behind a wall of empty storage drums in an abandoned warehouse in Hunts Point. They’d equipped the space with cameras and she was able to watch the entire operation in relative comfort. Except that it was two in the morning, as cold as Hell and Neal Caffrey’s friends were getting set to meet with the man’s kidnappers.
She didn’t like the idea of involving civilians in an operation, although she had to admit that Reese Hughes barely qualified as a civilian. He was a thirty-five year veteran of the FBI and her own contacts in the Bureau spoke his name with awe. The little guy, Moz or Mozzie, though, was clearly a civilian.
She wasn’t really sure what to make of him, but he strongly reminded her of her retired squad mate, John Munch. Like Munch, he was paranoid and fiercely intelligent with an almost pathological disdain for the trappings of authority. But there was a difference, too – Mozzie’s cynicism was tempered by a deep well of affection for his friend. Munch’s heart had been ripped out too many times to leave much softness behind.
And regardless of any similarities between Munch and Moz, Moz didn’t belong in the middle of a dangerous operation. But she had no choice. The go-between for the counterfeiters was squirrely and barely seemed to trust Mozzie, let alone Hughes. If he knew that the NYPD was involved, he’d rabbit and they’d never get the bastards.
The moment was not without some humor. Over her earpiece, Olivia heard Moz introduce Hughes simply as his “twin brother.” It was ridiculous, but it seemed to diffuse some of the tension on the warehouse floor. Brinker stopped pacing and biting at his thumbnail.
“Your guys are late.” That was from Hughes, who was the designated heavy in this operation.
“They’ll be here. No worries.” Brinker sounded almost smug.
“I have the feeling we’re being set up. I can smell ‘cop’, can’t you?” Hughes grumbled at Mozzie. This was all part of the script.
“You want out? Because if you do, there’s the door. Don’t need you or your cash.” Moz was playing along perfectly, and Olivia had to wonder just what his background was. She’d never seen a civilian quite this cool in such a high-stakes op.
“I’m in, don’t worry. But if this goes south, I’ll have your hide tacked to my mantle and I’ll use your skull as an ashtray.”
Olivia had to cover her mouth to stifle her laugh at this extraordinary and out of character speech delivered in such casual and deadpan tones. She took a quick look around, the handful of NYPD and the Treasury Agents waiting to pounce were also desperately trying not to succumb to the humor of the moment.
Mozzie didn’t make it any better. “Well, at least it’ll improve the decorating in that monstrosity you call ‘home’. How all of your highbrow, blue-blood neighbors allowed that thing to be built is beyond me.”
Hughes chuckled, and the lack of humor in that sound sent the hair on the back of Olivia’s neck straight up. “De gustibus non disputandum est, mon frère.”
Moz snapped back, “Oooh, I’m impressed. You’re mixing Latin and French.”
Brinker interrupted the men’s banter. “Shut up, you two – someone’s coming.”
And indeed, someone was. Two pairs of headlights illuminated the warehouse’s fitful gloom. A white Ford Econoline van drove in, followed by a black Mercedes. Olivia couldn’t believe the balls of these guys – or the stupidity. They actually held onto the vehicle used in the kidnapping and then used to transport Caffrey before they dumped him.
An older man, someone who looked to be the same vintage as Hughes, got out of the Mercedes. A younger guy, wearing what looked like cowboy boots, hopped out of the van. From this distance and with the lack of light, she couldn’t really see their faces. Not that it mattered.
Over her earpiece, she could hear the conversation.
It was the older man who opened the talks, and not surprisingly, he had a European accent – boarding school English overlaying something Slavic. “So, Brinker – you’ve brought two friends. That surprises me.”
“No names, man – come on, you know the rules. No fucking names,” Brinker whined and Olivia started to worry. If Brinker freaked out, this could turn into a bloodbath.
The Slav, for lack of a better name, held up his hand in a mollifying gesture. “Sorry, my friend. Didn’t mean any harm. I’m just surprised. Last week, when we first arranged this, it was just supposed to be one buyer, not two. That troubles me.”
Hughes stepped in, and Olivia wasn’t surprised when he spoke to the Slav in what was probably the other man’s own language. Of course she didn’t understand a word of it, but apparently, whatever he said seemed to diffuse the man’s concerns. Actually – there was one word she understood, tovarich.
Comrade.
So, maybe they were speaking Russian.
Mozzie interrupted them. “I don’t care if you’re discussing plans to re-enact the battle scenes from War and Peace, but I’m here to do business. In English.”
The Slav laughed. “You Americans are always so impatient. Nothing wrong with catching up on some news about the Motherland.”
“You can reminisce all you want about the whores you fucked in the shadow of the Kremlin, but only when we’re done here. I’ve got places to go,” Moz grumbled.
Hughes stepped in. “Keep a civil tongue in your head. And if you have better places to be, other things you’d rather be doing, you’re free to go. I need you as much as you need me.”
“And by that, you don’t need me at all,” Moz replied. If Olivia didn’t know that this was part of a well-thought out plan, she’d have believed that the two men really despised each other.
The Slav finally relented. “Hmmm, maybe you’re right. Let’s do this the American way – business first, pleasure later.” He made a gesture to Cowboy Boots and the man went to the back of the van. Olivia didn’t like that and she gave a subtle signal to her team to be ready.
But Cowboy Boots didn’t come back wielding a semi-automatic, he was carrying two large black bags and dropped them on the ground. He disappeared again and came back with two more bags. “That’s four million. All Franklins, 1991 series, non-sequential serial numbers, appropriately aged.” Those were the first words that Cowboy Boots had spoken.
Interesting, Caffrey nailed the accent – or the lack thereof – just right. Not a New Yorker or a Midwesterner or a Southerner. The cadence of his words seemed off, too. Maybe English wasn’t his first language.
Mozzie’s whining interrupted her thoughts. “I was told it was twelve million, not four. I came all the way out here for what, a measly share of squat?”
“Relax, my friend – this is only a third of what we have. The rest is in the truck. Which we’ll be happy to give you.” The Slav was in appeasement mode.
“We are going to check every bag and packet, you understand.” That was Hughes.
“Then it’s going to be a very long night.”
“I don’t care. Or should I say, we don’t care.”
“Then, gentlemen, I suggest you get started.”
Olivia relaxed and hoped that it wouldn’t take all night to go through the bundles of cash. The Treasury people were insistent on this step. There was nothing illegal about selling currency, per se, and while selling packets of paper covered with decoy bills might lead to a count of intent to defraud, that was a far cry from the host of Federal charges that could be brought for creating and distributing counterfeit currency.
Hughes and Mozzie got to work, and Moz kept up a stream of irritating comments. Periodically, Hughes would quietly tell him to shut up. It took about forty-five minutes to go riffle through each bundle of counterfeit currency in the first four bags– making sure that the packets weren’t filled with blank pieces of paper. When they were done, Cowboy Boots took out four more. And finally, the last four.
The Slav, who’d remained silent and watchful for the entire process, spoke. “And what do you think? Does this meet your expectations?”
According to plan, Hughes answered. “I am impressed. Our friend here – ”, Hughes tilted his head towards Brinker, “provided a sample and I found it hard to believe that it wasn’t the real thing. When he told me that he knew someone that had twelve million to move, I almost walked away. It seemed too good to be true. I’m glad it isn’t.”
Olivia sent a signal to the team – “too good to be true” was the first code phrase. They were getting ready to close the deal.
The Slav seemed pleased. “Thank you. And now, my friends, I think it’s time to see your money.”
Moz walked out of her view, but she could hear his grumbling and grousing through her earpiece. He came back, hefting a slim briefcase. With a grunt, he dropped it on top of one of the empty barrels that littered the abandoned space. “Your money.” Moz opened the case, and even in the monitors, Olivia could see the light glint off the rows of gold coins.
The Slav was close enough to Hughes that she could hear his sigh of satisfaction. He approached and that satisfaction seemed to turn sour. “The deal was for five million. You are short by about four million.”
“There’s a million dollars in Krugerrands there. The perfect currency. Untraceable and quite likely to increase in value.”
“It’s not enough.”
“Moz.”
The little guy grumbled and retrieved a second case, slamming it down on top of the first.
Cowboy Boots entered the conversation. “You got another one of those back there?”
Hughes and Moz ignored the comment. “This is our final offer – take it or walk away.”
But Cowboy Boots wasn’t inclined to be ignored. “You know, we could take this, and the currency, and leave three bodies behind.”
Olivia brought the team to full readiness. This was turning bad. Except that the Slav stepped in. “My partner here likes guns and killing. I don’t. I also like the old expression about two in the hand – how does it go? Two in the hand is worth more than?”
“I think the expression you’re looking for is ‘a bird in the hand is worth more than two in the bush’,” Hughes replied laconically.
“Right, right. Two million in gold will do just fine. And we can do business again in the future, tovarich?”
“With goods that are this quality, I’d think so.”
Olivia was getting frustrated – the team had been on standby for too long and were losing their edge. They could wrap this up right now, if only one of that dynamic duo would give the code phrase.
Cowboy Boots, in a modest display of strength, hoisted both briefcases – each one weighed about forty-five pounds. He was heading for the Mercedes, but stopped and turned back. “You know, it’s really kind of funny – you of all people being the buyer.”
“Me?” Hughes asked.
“No, Short Stuff here. Considering who did the engraving work.”
Olivia couldn’t believe her ears. Was this guy going to talk about Caffrey?
“What do you mean? Moz spat out.
“You had a friend, Neal Caffrey, right?”
“I did. He disappeared.”
“Because I made him disappear. That day – right after you walked away from him. He came up to me, wanted to know why I was following him. Took two seconds to get him into the van. Took a month to break him. Took another five more months to use him up like a tube of toothpaste.”
“Where is he?”
Olivia held her breath, praying that Moz wouldn’t do or say something stupid and blow this operation to Hell and back.
“Caffrey? Dumped him like a piece of garbage on a back street off of the West Side Highway. Probably in the morgue, or on his way to Potter’s Field.”
Olivia was about to close in without waiting for the code phrase, but Hughes gave it anyway. “I think we’re done here. It’s been a pleasure.”
She gave the go-ahead to the team and they burst out of hiding, guns drawn, shouting orders for everyone to get down on their knees, hands behind their heads. Even Moz and Hughes, although they really had no reason to. Cowboy Boots started cursing and struggling and Olivia half-wished he’d make a break for it so she could shoot him. But someone got the cuffs on him.
The Treasury agents seemed far more interested in the black bags and the two cases of Krugerrands they’d provided, though she suspected that they were probably going to be facing a pissing contest over who got first crack at the prisoners.
It didn’t matter. They had Cowboy Boots’ confession on tape. He’d kidnapped Neal Caffrey, he’d overseen the torture and then left him for dead. She didn’t care if the time he served for counterfeiting ran concurrently.
Not in the least.
Go to Chapter Nineteen
Tags:
- character: clinton jones,
- character: diana berrigan,
- character: elizabeth burke,
- character: june ellington,
- character: landon shepherd,
- character: mozzie,
- character: neal caffrey,
- character: ofc,
- character: olivia benson,
- character: omc,
- character: peter burke,
- character: theo berrigan,
- crossover: law and order: svu,
- genre: abuse,
- genre: angst,
- genre: emotional trauma,
- genre: friendship,
- genre: future fic,
- genre: hurt/comfort,
- genre: violence,
- pairing: peter/elizabeth,
- type: fan fiction,
- type: longfic,
- wc verse: return and rebuild,
- white collar,
- year: 2014
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-08-01 02:45 pm (UTC)All the happy feels *so* good, I just. Yes. Loved it.
But the standing order to sedate Neal still broke my heart :/
But we have happy!!
My feels are all over the place, lol.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-01 02:54 pm (UTC)Wonderful chapter - thank you for this.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-01 03:24 pm (UTC)And of course I'm happy Peter is with Neal, but I was really hoping for a conversation! But a standing order for sedation? *jaw drops* That's not nice! We will get a conversation soon, right?? PLEASE!!!
no subject
Date: 2014-08-01 09:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-01 09:52 pm (UTC)And Reese and Mozzie and Olivia got the villains!
YOWZA! Let's see the FBI keep insisting that Neal voluntarily disappeared, with a confession on tape!
no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 12:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 12:21 am (UTC)Oh please, return to the hospital room. We've been waiting for this scene for weeks...
no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 12:46 am (UTC)Love this part: "Something dark and sad crossed Peter’s eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, Neal. I’ll be here as long as you need me.>"
Mozzie and Hughes going undercover & catching the bad guys. I laughed when Mozzie said Hughes was his twin brother. : )
no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 02:07 am (UTC)And, YES Moz and Reese getting the bad guys. I loved the way that scene played out. It was perfect. It threw me for a minute when Boots recognized Moz, but Moz handled it perfectly and now we've got him for hurting our precious Neal.
YAY for this chapter!
More please!
no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 06:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-02 02:36 pm (UTC)Mozzie and Hughes - the twin brothers of justice! Who would've thought? I'm just glad they finally managed to catch the bad guys. And really, how stupid is Cowboy Boots, bragging like that? I'm glad he did though. *g*
Oh things finally start to get better
Date: 2014-08-02 06:21 pm (UTC)And they have confession that clears Neal, with that and the 'extra help' Peter has, it just has to get better for him.
Hope to see Peter and Neal finally talk and clear things soon.
no subject
Date: 2014-08-03 12:29 pm (UTC)And yay for those bastards confessing and getting arrested \o/
This just made my day \o/
no subject
Date: 2014-08-03 06:27 pm (UTC)What a happy chapter this was!!! :D
no subject
Date: 2014-08-03 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-03 10:21 pm (UTC)Our boys are reunited.
Yay.
Great chapter!
no subject
Date: 2014-08-05 11:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-06 02:16 am (UTC)