Veronica nodded, taking the stack of papers and leaving the room. As Neal suspected, the corridors were empty, so she took the long way to the copier. Her circuitous route led to the third floor where the interior corridor led out onto an open-air courtyard, the sort of ridiculously impractical architectural feature only a posh private school would bother maintaining.
As she drew closer, she heard a woman’s voice. It sounded like a one-sided phone conversation carrying into the courtyard below. Veronica slowed, pretending to look around to gain her bearings, turning in a half circle until she could hear better.
“Tomorrow, yes,” came the strident tone. “If you aren’t there, the deal’s off.”
It was thin, but it might be something, though Veronica thought whoever was dressing people down over the phone would have been a little more discreet if there was an actual crime afoot. She was turning back when she heard a phone ring from the same location. Unless it was a ringtone, it certainly sounded like an actual desk phone ring.
“Professor Samuels.” She could be mistaken, but to Veronica’s ears, it sounded like the same voice, though more professional. “No, sir, I’m not dealing with Rogers any longer. He screwed us - you. He screwed you.”
Well, now that was something. Veronica edged closer to the courtyard balcony, but she couldn’t see anything except the reflection of the garden below in polished windows. Figuring that meant she could be seen, Veronica retreated, heading back to the classroom just in time for the bell. As soon as the last of the students filed out, Veronica told Neal of her journey.
Back at the FBI headquarters, the conference room was abuzz with activity. Neal, who had arrived with Veronica, spent his time waiting for Peter to finish assessing the information, unhelpfully tossing around his rubberband ball. Jones was at a laptop, clicking away at the keyboard, taking notes while Diana gave him a rundown of her research. As far as he was concerned, Caffrey's input wasn't needed just yet, and since he took some small amount of exception at not being the point man, all he could do to make it known was do nothing at all.
"Look alive," Peter said to the room as he walked in, but he clearly meant Neal. Taking his place at the front of the room, Burke held his case file in hand as he waited for everyone to settle. "We think we've got our first lead," he revealed with a thin smile. He didn't want to get overly excited, but any lead was better than no lead.
Diana looked uncertain as they all stared at Peter. "Are you going to share with the class, boss?" She was only on her lunch break and would need to get back soon.
Burke was ready to burst, clearly more excited than anyone should have any right to be. "We're looking at two people," he said, separating the file in hand to reveal it was actually two gathered together. "And I think you'll all recognize this guy," the agent added, a pointed look being spared in Neal's direction as he showed off the photo.
"Rogers, really?" Caffrey huffed, feining surprise. Perhaps Veronica had shared, or maybe Peter's was as clever as always. Either way, Neal wasn't concerned to think the FBI might be catching up to their own investigation. "Are you sure?"
Peter pursed his lips and looked between Veronica and Neal. Something about this didn't feel right, but he let it go, and instead responded rather ominously, "Oh, positive. He's in town, now we just need to find him and bring him in for questioning."
Neal raised his eyebrows and muttered, "Good luck with that." Rogers was almost as slippery as he was.
Veronica steadied her gaze on Peter, keeping her expression neutral and interested. She didn’t know what Neal had shared, but so soon after she’d first heard Rogers’ name, it didn’t feel like a coincidence to hear Peter use it. She decided she’d be more diligent about checking herself for listening devices.
Jones nodded to Peter. “And the other file?”
“We looked at some of Rogers past associates, and there is someone who fits the bill in this case.” He advanced the screen to display a grainy shot of dark-haired woman wearing sunglasses and waiting to cross a street. The photo caught her mostly in profile. “Antoinette Sheridan.”
Diana piped up, sounding excited. “Oh, I know this one – 1997, Belize, apprehended for forging a Brunelleschi.”
Peter pointed his pen at her. “Exactly. This is a case the Academy still uses because she got off on a technicality. But if she’s involved in this, we might be able to lock her up for good.”
Veronica studied the image, jotting down the name in her notes. “How old is that picture?” she asked.
Burke glanced down to his notes. “Traffic cam at Houston and Clinton, May, 2004.” He looked up at her approvingly. “So we don’t know what she looks like, and while Sheridan is her birth name, she could be going by any alias.” He shrugged, grinning crookedly. “We’ve done more with less.”
Veronica had a good feeling Sheridan was now going by the name Samuels and was also their fake professor, but until she had more details, she was keeping that between Neal and her. She was also pretty confident Peter was wrong – they weren’t looking at two suspects, but three. Whoever called Samuels on her office phone (assuming Veronica was right about the second call) had to be in the school somewhere because the desk lines were an old inter-office system. They’d learned during orientation that the handsets had been upgraded, but the wiring had not, so outside calls all needed to be made via mobile, from the main offices, or from the emergency phones located on every floor.
Peter excused the assembled, and Veronica and Neal were once more left to their own devices.
Neal popped up, immediately, not the least bit deterred. He had plenty of work to do — things Peter had piled on his desk because he wasn't able to participate heavily in other field work — but as far as he was concerned, that stuff could wait. It could always wait. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard Peter's call. As he came to stop, Caffrey made a face at Veronica (and the greater room, really — anyone but Peter) that suggested he knew he was caught. He then proceeded to have a short and sassy exchange with Peter about his ankle monitor on his way back that consisted of Neal professing his innocent in forgetting that electronic tether, and Burke not believing him, but letting him go anyway.
When he returned to Mars, he was slightly heavier with gaudy and garish ankle jewelry, but not gloomy over it at all as he hooked arms with Veronica and made way for the elevators.
Outside, and despite everything, he felt freer. While he'd given up his close contact with Veronica in the elevator, he was lingering close to her as they finally found themselves outside the very sensitive ears of the Bureau.
"That was wild," he said, laughing lightly. "I figured Peter would be on our tails, but he's putting this together quicker than I thought." It wasn't far to the subway station, so he stopped at a street vendor, gesturing for a cup of coffee.
"Do me a favor," he began as he fished into his inside pocket for his wallet. He produced cash and a business card-sized piece of paper, but instead of offering it out, he returned his wallet to his pocket and received his coffee. It looked like a random locksmith's business card. "There's a number on this card," Neal said, and cryptically and carefully poured the coffee along one edge. Shaking off the excess, he added, "Wait two hours for that to develop and text Mozzie at that number about what happened today," and offered it over. "Burner if you've got it, just to be safe." He paid and tipped the vendor, carrying to rest of the coffee because he didn't want to throw the rest out in front of the guy.
Within two hours, Veronica had obtained a prepaid mobile from a bodega. She took it back to her apartment, feeling exhilarated by the clandestine nature of carrying something so intrinsically linked with Neal and Mozzie’s world and already planning the best spot to hide it. If Piz found that she had a crappy flip phone, he’d start asking questions, and she didn’t want to drag him into anything if she could prevent it.
Once the card revealed the number like magic, Veronica sent a text to Mozzie.
Newly arrived CA gal seeking knowledgeable NYer for good conversation
Within a few minutes in which she tried (and failed) to busy herself and not stare at the burner phone, she received a response.
Bethesda terrace 16:21 NYer will bring refreshments
It was already quarter to four, so she quickly changed into something that would help her blend in with the midday Central Park tourist crowd, complete with her Nikon D3500 on a strap over her shoulder, and hustled back to the subway.
That evening, Mozzie popped by with a chicken vindaloo for June and was already enjoying a glass of Beaujolais on Neal’s terrace by the time he turned up.
“California and I had a nice lunch today,” he announced, handing over a large envelope. “And then we met an old friend for coffee.”
The friend, Neal would find once he opened the envelope, was Arthur Rogers (aka Mark Bridges, aka Sylvester Mancuso, aka Edward Anthony, etc.), and by “coffee”, Mozz had meant surveillance. There were a few shots of Rogers entering and leaving a luxury apartment building on Sixth Avenue. The photographs were labeled with the time. He’d entered the building at 6:15 with nothing and left just six minutes later carrying an attaché.
Rifiling through the gathered intel, Neal took in the details quickly, skimming as he was apt to do. He'd dive in for more pertinent details later — things that might be meaningful — but to start, a high-level view was more than enough.
"This is good work," he said. No surprise there; between the two of them, he couldn't think of a safer and more productive team to do their groundwork. If he weren't so heavily monitored, Neal would most certainly have gone with them. Instead, he at least got to live in the knowledge that he surrounded himself with the best of the best. For Neal, little was more important than that.
"So, now we need to get close to Rogers." That was the logical next step. If they followed the guy, got themselves a good amount of information on his habits and otherwise, they'd have all they needed; unfortunately, that required a lot more time than any of them had, Neal was certain of it.
Mozzie grinned and raised his glass. "I've already got you covered," he said. "Take a look at the addendum."
Neal raised an eyebrow, flipped to the last page, and grinned, too. "Moz, I could kiss you. This is going to work perfectly."
Early the next morning, Neal waited for Veronica outside Planet Fitness. It was just on the egde of his radius, thankfully, and a public venue, so he imagined he wouldn't get too many questions. Still, he was dressed down, well-hidden under a baseball cap. He wasn't so concerned about being seen as being seen with Mars. Their daytime law enforcement was messing with their nighttime crime, but none of it would be any good to anyone if they blew their cover.
"Hey, glad you could make it," he said, immediately spotting her. "It's early, I know; I'm sorry," he added, immediately holding up his hands to show he surrendered to how crappy this was. "I know I didn't give a lot of details, either, but bear with me..." He clearly was about to bring forth an unpopular recommendation.
Leaning out of direct view of the door, Caffrey made sure to hide his face as Rogers passed through the door behind them. He glanced only when he knew the guy was gone, then looked back to Veronica. "Moz gave me a tracking dot. We can get into his locker to put it in his bag, but I'd feel safer if we could keep him occupied. He's awfully lonely these days," he said, pointedly, "And I think he could use a friend. Or, a good-looking interested party, if you get my meaning." Neal held up his hand in the usual rock-paper-scissors way. It was probably easier to lose in this case.
Veronica laid her hand over his, effectively stopping the game. "Please, allow me." Even if she wasn't his type, the man knew Neal, so a distraction attempt from him would lead to confrontation and there was a chance the whole thing would be blown.
She stepped inside the gym, unzipping her jacket to ensure she'd be extra eye-catching in her slim-fitting workout gear. Then she put herself into Roger's line of site, dropping down to one knee and carefully retying her shoelace until she was sure he saw her. From there, it was almost too easy. Clearly, she was his type. Fabulous.
For the next five minutes, she chatted him up, feigning interest in his high opinion of himself with the expertise of someone used to meeting Hollywood actors. She could tell he was aiming to be charming like a Clooney, but there was an oiliness about him that read as sleazy like a Slater, so she was relieved when she caught sight of Neal subtly signalling for her to follow him back outside. She extended the conversation for another thirty seconds to give him a lead, then excused herself, claiming that she had a spin class on the upper floor and that she'd love to meet him at the juice bar afterward. Too bad for Rogers, Veronica's flirtatious alter ego was a flake.
She caught up to Neal just down the block, buying coffee from a vendor. She accepted a paper cup from him and tapped it against his. "To our success, I hope."
His grin was as easy as ever as they tipped their cups together. He probably didn't need the coffee; the buzz he was feeling by even this small success was better than any cup of coffee. Still, he took a sip and then said, "We'll know soon enough." The tiny bug was nearly undetectable to the naked eye and Caffrey had done and admirable job of tucking it somewhere that wasn't obvious.
As they walked, he explained. "The tracking data's active, but the audio's set to record only when there's ambient sound. We'll get about eight hours on the battery that way, so we're still going to need to get lucky, but I think we're heading in the right direction."
The data, which was set to upload to a secure severe as the device's last command, could hold all the information they needed in unraveling this whole scenario well ahead of the FBI. It meant, if they were fortunate, they'd know their step. Already it felt like the chase was picking up pace. "How'd it go with Rogers? He's always been a real bro." It was obviously not a compliment.
"I feel like I need a second shower, so I guess that means it went well?" She shrugged and gave him a half smile, indicating that she was completely unscathed. It was an unfortunate fact of undercover work that using her looks was the often the quickest means to an end, and she didn't doubt Neal knew the feeling.
"How do you even know him? Is there, like, a crime convention, or is it a secret us non-criminals can't know of?" Veronica was teasing him, clearly herself giddy from their mini-con. But she was truly curious to know if Neal's circle of crime pals was really so wide and varied, or if Rogers was only known by reputation. Nothing Neal said at this late-stage could change her opinion of him, but she was enjoying learning his unique story in small chunks. It was a new thing to meet a con man who wasn't actively running a con on her or someone she knew. Though considering what she did know of him, she had wondered more than once if she wasn't just allowing herself to be taken in.
For a time, Neal's only job had been to arrange himself strategically nearest the criminal elite. He knew a fairly large swath of individuals that he wouldn't want to cop to even now, but Rogers hadn't been someone Caffrey found himself all that interested in.
"We met once or twice," he revealed, nonplussed more than troubled. It had been a long time ago, and only in passing, but a very young and arrogant Nick Harden had certainly made enough of an impression to stick with the guy, Neal was certain of that. Had they met again in the gym, it would have certainly provided the necessary distraction, although it likely would have meant they would have needed to move on Rogers and the rest almost immediately (as well as involve Burke, who would no doubt have more than a few displeased words about the whole ordeal).
"I was in Wales for... reasons. Rogers was up-and-coming, we were both in it for the same thing. In the end, I bowed out, but not before putting a significant roadblock between Rogers and his goal." Neal shrugged. He wasn't beyond being a little spiteful under the right circumstances. "You spend enough time doing this, the faces all start looking familiar. Even when they're changing behind your back." If anyone could understand how quickly a person could change things up, or disappear, or both, it would be Veronica.
He sipped his coffee as he waited for the light to change. "Mozzie's going to watch in case he bolts. We'll have to go about our business today, but by dinnertime, we should know a bit more about how deep into this Rogers has gotten himself."
"Or if he's now acting on his own," she added. "Samuels or whoever she is said they were cutting him out." Regardless of his involvement, she was hopeful Rogers would lead them to whoever was really pulling the strings and how it connected with Kane Software.
"I'm going to have to change before class," she reminded him, hefting her bag on her shoulder for emphasis. "Can we stop at your place?" They were already pretty close, and it beat having to change in a bathroom, even the nicely appointed ones at Dalton.
A few hours later, Veronica and Neal walked out of the 89th Street building together after another class just as it began to drizzle. She spotted a middle-aged woman struggling to light a cigarette in the stiff breeze. Veronica had already done a little recon before class, and she recognized the woman as having come from a lower-floor office in the same direction she'd heard the conversation from the day before.
"I think it's your turn to charm someone," she said quietly, nodding discreetly in the direction of the woman she took for to so-called Professor Samuels. "I have a date in the meantime." She grinned and split off to join Mozzie where he loitered neutrally near the door of a deli. She imagined she'd be seeing Neal soon enough at his place.
((ooc: I just assumed Neal wouldn't deny Veronica changing at his place, so I just skipped over his chance to say no.))
It was several hours before Neal returned, although he'd been kind enough to warn the others with a quick text suggesting he'd be getting coffee with Samuels. He looked (and suitably felt) tired upon his return, his tie loosened, sleeves rolled, jacket draped over his arm.
"Nice of you to—" Mozzie started, his wine glass already lifted to toast Caffrey, but the words died on his lips and he shook his head. Neal didn't look all that pleased. "That bad?"
Neal tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and poured a little heavily from the open bottle on the table. He could see Veronica out on the terrace, her face gently illuminated on one side by the light of her cellphone. They waved through the threshold and he offered her a wan smile in response to her apologetic look.
"Neal." Moz was prompting him, a hand resting on his arm out of concern.
"That bad," he finally agreed, although he knew he was being dramatic. It had nearly been a waste of time, too, Caffrey thought, although he was reserving judgement until he could have a little time to digest the conversation he'd had with the woman. "She was vocal about how unhappy she was at the school, not to mention how terrible the kids are," he grumped with an eyeroll, obviously bothered.
Mozzie could understand why it bothered Neal. It bothered him, too, and he knew Mars hadn't appreciated how some of the staff were overly expectant of students already doing an exceptional job. He squeezed Neal's arm and let his hand fall away just as Veronica hung up the phone. "California and I were just finishing compiling the tracking data. The audio file should be ready in about ten minutes," he filled in, quickly changing the subject.
Neal's half-smile to Mozzie was grateful, but his attention was on Veronica. He gestured to her phone, asking, "You didn't have to cancel your dinner plans again, did you?"
“If you don’t make dinner plans, you don’t have to cancel.” Veronica joined them at the table and laid her phone face down. She’d just had to deal with Piz’s usual distant disapproval mixed with resignation and she didn’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t worth dissection, and she’d already gotten Mozzie’s unabashed opinion of her realstionship at any rate. No need to rehash it, not when they had work to do.
So Veronica pasted on a smile, knowing that she’d cheer up quickly once the three of them hit their stride. “There’s cold noodles in the fridge for you, if you want them,” she told Neal. Food was always a balm after a bad date, even if it had just been a sham.
Mozzie raised his glass, toasting no one in particular. “We’re just about there.”
He turned the screen toward Neal and Veronica. Rogers’ route took him from the Sixth Avenue apartment where they’d photographed him the day before, to Dalton, and then to a building in Chelsea that housed a hipster gin bar and a number of small law, medical, and corporate offices. Mozzie rattled off the names in the building’s directory for their benefit, pausing when he got to “...the Law Office of Dory and Boutin.” At that, he looked up at Neal. “A little too obvious. I don’t like the way this is smelling.”
As if being prompted, Neal lifted the cold noodles to his nose and took a sniff. They smelled fine, but Mozzie was right that the rest of this had a stink about it. Taking a seat, Caffrey poked at the noodles with chopsticks, looking between his two companions. "Someone's really trying to get our attention," he reasoned, then dove into his food. Cold or not, the food did seem to help Neal forget that recalcitrant woman he'd spent an hour placating, and returning to an apartment with such good company didn't hurt either.
Mozzie was already pulling up records, clacking away at the keys with one practiced hand while the other fed him his steady stream of wine. "Opened recently — about the time Rogers dropped off the radar," he noted meaningfully.
"Allegedly," Neal said after swallowing a mouthful of noodles. He was already feeling better by the bite.
"He's so suspicious," the other man teased in Veronica's direction. They all knew if Neal hadn't said it, Mozzie would have eventually. "But I tend to agree that Rogers isn't in as much distress about all of this Interpol business as we're being led to believe."
Caffrey sipped to clear his mouth and said, "Because Samuels is losing her mind instead." Something about that had Neal's gears turning. "I'll bet there's a connection we're not seeing. Something further back. She was way too irritated — not afraid, but irritated. An ex maybe?" He remembered Kate using the same tone of voice when Alex had stepped into the picture.
"How often does that happen?" Mozzie asked, knowing full well that none of them were innocent of getting a significant other involved in their worlds, no matter how well-meaning.
Veronica pushed her empty glass toward Mozzie for a refill as she pondered their quandary. He obliged, naturally, and Veronica took a fortifying sip.
"She seemed respectful of whoever she was on the phone with the second time, but she also wasn't afraid to tell him that she refused to work with Rogers." That indicated to Veronica that she was deferential to whoever pulled the strings, but not so much that she didn't at least call some of the shots. So there must have been a partnership, however unequal. If she added in the fact that she'd taken Neal up on his offer of coffee, other than noting that the woman wasn't blind, that also seemed to point to the fact she was currently unattached (or at least unafraid of hurting her significant other), so she probably wasn't romantically linked with the Man Behind the Mask.
So that led Veronica to the conclusion that perhaps Samuels and Rogers had been romantically linked at one point. That was certainly enough to explain her open hostility. But did it point to anything else?
A sudden thought struck her, and she opened the dossier Peter had made on Rogers, scanned through a few documents, and then pointed out a section to Neal and Mozzie.
"Look at this."
2003, Glasgow: Rogers and two unidentified partners (female, Caucasian mid-thirties and male, Black mid-forties) connected to heist of Young Woman in a Black and Green Bonnet (Cassatt, c. 1890) from Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum; piece recovered in Princeton, NJ, August 15, 2006 during sting on known fence, [REDACTED]
"And there's a photo." She flipped through the packet to a grainy CCTV image of Rogers and his accomplices. Samuels, aka Antoinette Sheridan, was younger, prettier, and mostly disguised by a scarf and dark glasses, but it was definitely her arm in arm with Rogers. The other man was captured in an almost perfect profile, but the image was so poor, he might as well have been a silhouette portrait.
Again, it was a thin lead, but it might be something. If they could find a mid-fiftyish Black man who'd recently been installed at Dalton, they might know their third suspect.
As he studied the image, Neal couldn't help but get the feeling they were right on the tail of this rabbit, like cunning foxes. It didn't engender the most pleasant mental image, which made him feel a bit disturbed, as if he believed in bad omens. Choosing not to share the feeling with Mozzie and Veronica, he slid away the photo and leaned back in his seat with his noodles.
"There are afternoon classes we've missed completely," he noted, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Three or four specialties."
Moz snorted. "Was woodworking on the list?"
"As a matter of fact, it was," he said, altogether impressed by the deduction until he remembered one small detail. Sitting forward again, he asked, "The frame?"
"Tools, access, time, motivation—" Mozzie was counting out the ways the theory worked.
As though he'd been waiting for a cue, Peter walked into the apartment unannounced. "Well, this looks like a fun party. Neal, how come you never invite me anymore?" Without waiting for a response, he crossed and squeezed his CI's shoulder (maybe a little more roughly than just a friendly hello). "Hello, Veronica. Moz."
"Suit," Moz replied, sitting back with his glass.
"Great timing, Peter," said Veronica cheerily. She was used to dodging around that caught-in-the-act feeling thanks to Keith always being so hot on her heels during an investigation. The key was to flip it and make it seem like she was planning on handing over the evidence all along. In this case, she guessed Peter and his team weren't far behind anyway, so they were just saving a morning briefing. She passed Peter Rogers' dossier opened to the picture of him with Sheridan and the mystery man.
"Sheridan is posing as Victoria Samuels, professor of Art Theory." She smiled, pleased with herself to present this as if she, Neal, and Mozz hadn't already figured it out days before.
"We know," Peter said, looking at the photograph before handing it back. "Diana figured it out today, and we wanted to tell you at this afternoon's briefing." He looked pointedly at the pair of them.
Veronica, for her part, had the good sense to look abashed. "Sorry. I was waiting to hear what Neal found out before we wasted the FBI's time. And there was wine." To prove the point, she raised her glass to Mozzie, and they drank.
Peter turned his attention back to Neal. "And you took her for coffee to confirm your suspicions, huh?" Peter nodded, answering his own question. "Well, good work. That's our case, closed. We'll be arresting her first thing in the morning at the school."
"Wait - there's more!" Veronica knew further FBI involvement could potentially disrupt the investigation and its connection to Kane Software, but pulling out now could leave the mastermind on the table. Without the FBI's access, she and Neal would have no reason to continue snooping around. And besides, if Diana was given a target, she could suss out his identity quickly, the Feds could get credit for the collar, and she, Mozzie, and Neal would have at least another day or two to work through the rest of it. It was a win-win-win.
She held up the photograph, tapping the unknown figure. "We have reason to believe this guy's the third man, and he might be working for the school as well." She looked at Neal, trying to communicate with her eyes her need for him to stretch the truth in their favor without visibly doing anything Peter would notice. "Neal - tell him what you learned from your coffee date."
Peter, who had such a good nose for bullshit, didn't feel like he fully believed anything anyone in the room was going to tell him, but he folded his hands across his chest and regarded Caffrey expectantly, his tongue in his cheek as he nodded at the CI. "All right," he agreed, letting them all know he was placating them. "Neal, what did you learn on your coffee date?"
"Well, since you asked," Neal began, but the rest of it died there. He was fine with Peter's suspicions, but it ever more felt like that was always going to be the hallmark of any interaction they had unless Burke was directing the action or otherwise implicitly involved in it. True enough, Caffrey was going behind his friend's back, but what he was doing here with Veronica and Moz wasn't hindering the FBI's investigation, and the only reason Caffrey could imagine it was an issue was due to the fact that Peter felt cut out. He never seemed to want to acknowledge that occasionally that was for good reasons. "Sheridan's willing to make a deal."
Burke raised his eyes to the ceiling just missing the helpless exchange between Mozzie and Neal. "We've been over this—"
"I know, Peter. I can't make any deals, and I didn't, but we talked..." Caffrey had no problem coming up with an elegant lie that kept his and Veronica's cover and ensured their return. "I'm just a concerned coworker, remember?" That seemed to appease Peter a hair and he didn't look quite so interested in throttling all of them. "She admitted she was lost and desperate for money, that she'd gotten in over her head. I almost had her convinced to do the right thing." Neal's voice got low and he gave Burke the biggest eyes he could muster, like he always did when he needed to convince someone he was right. "She wants to see me tomorrow. She said she'd tell me everything, but she needed to take care of something at the school first."
Peter looked among Neal, Veronica, and Mozzie, weighing each of them. However, all assembled were gifted liars, so the appearance of innocence made Peter back off. Well, it was either that or the opportunity to bring down three criminals in one shot.
“Okay, but you’re going to be miked tomorrow.” He leveled a stern look at his CI before looking to Veronica. “Can I give you a ride uptown?”
Veronica knew what awaited her in Peter’s Taurus; she’d heard all the same lectures from her own Dad about getting in too deep and trusting the wrong people. But she trusted Mozzie and Neal, and moreover, she was having a good time. And maybe there was a weensy dash of self-sabotage, too, in putting both her career and relationships in potential jeopardy, but honestly that only added to the allure.
However, she also knew turning him down in favor of her crime pals would look like she’d chosen a side, so she nodded. “Thanks, Peter, if it’s not out of your way.” She stood, giving both Neal and Mozzie hugs on her way out.
The following day found Veronica tense. Her dry cleaner had shrunk the sweater she’d planned on wearing, Piz had been moodily slamming cabinet and closet doors as they got ready in silence, and the subway was a half an hour late. By the time she arrived at the White Collar offices, all she had time for was a quick cup of black, Federally-funded Joe. And it was burnt.
Peter called in the team, and Jones briefed them on the operation. Neal was going to meet Sheridan before his class. If they didn’t get any clear intel, they planned to move in for the arrest once Neal’s class was in session. Then they would interrogate her in the offices, with Neal on hand and his cover in tact if they needed it to bargain.
If Neal could extract something worthwhile, however, Peter was willing to leave her free until they could identify the third man. That way, it might be possible to catch all three without having to cut any deals.
Veronica was hoping for the second outcome, of course, but she was mostly grateful to be off the hook for the heavy lifting. Peter’s dire warnings cloaked as kindly concern the night before were as she expected, but surprisingly, she did feel her confidence in the secondary operation shaken slightly. Mozzie and Neal were both good people, of that she was certain, but what their goal was remained unclear. So she’d ride out and take the next day or so as it came, hoping that when she did have to make a choice, she’d be ready.
He never let his nerves show, although there were times those close to Neal could read them on his face despite his best efforts. This had been one of those days. While being prepped, Peter had questioned him a bit more aggressively than usual (he imagined it had more to do with the ride home with Veronica than anything else), and it left him feeling unsettled for the rest of the morning. Seeing Mars ebbed a bit of his anxiety, but much like Mozzie the night before, Neal was beginning to think this whole scenario was a bit more out-of-control than anticipated. No matter, though; they always worked through it.
With his mike live for all to hear (Veronica included,) Neal cleared his throat as Sheridan entered the lounge. The lies he'd told the night before were going to be hard to back up, and even harder to cover under the FBI's direct scrutiny, but Caffrey had known as much as he'd made up the story, so he'd like to count himself prepared, even if he didn't feel it.
"About last night," she began, just another voice on the line to anyone but Neal.
He stopped her quickly. "Don't worry about it," he said, his voice warm with a smile. "Have you thought any about what I'd suggested?"
She raised an intrigued eyebrow Caffrey was glad no one else could see. Combined with her grin, he knew he had to be careful. "Oh, about—"
"—getting the help you need, right." He pressed. The subject at hand was clearly one that neither of them wanted overheard. "Today."
"Someone's in a hurry," she said, and it didn't sound like a person that was hoping to make a deal with the FBI, but without eyes on either of them, Neal had to believe that they wouldn't know her true intentions. Better for him, at least; he infrequently felt like a peice of meat in these situations, but the way she was eyeing him, he wasn't sure there wasn't some intention to have him as a meal. "I have class, but... we'll see what we can do." She seemed pleased.
Neal let out a slow breath and nodded as she retreated towards the door. "See you after," he said, mostly for Peter's benefit. It bought him time, he hoped, but it also meant he needed to find an answer for the next step in this journey, else they'll lose their lead and Peter will know for sure the jig was up.
Checking his watch, Neal grabbed his coffee, straightened his tie, and went to meet Veronica for their class together. If the Feds charged into the building halfway through, Caffrey would know his ploy hadn't worked.
Diana was already at work in the administrative offices, researching all the new hires within the last six months intensively, paying particular attention to the men, so it was just Veronica, Jones, and Peter in the van listening to Neal (and all the folks back in the offices who were monitoring of course). Veronica surreptitiously watched Jones and Peter as they listened to Neal’s brief conversation. They exchanged looks, but seemed satisfied that what they’d heard substantiated Neal’s fabrication. The whole thing made Veronica’s insides twist. Not only were they deep into felony Federal resource manipulation territory, she could practically feel the sleaze rolling off Sheridan in Neal’s general direction. Even her own up close and personal conversation with Rogers hadn’t made her feel so gross. The payoff from all this needed to be worth it.
Peter glanced back with a crooked smile Veronica hoped meant he was pleased with what he heard. “You’re up, Veronica.” He patted her shoulder, turning back to something Jones was pulling up on a screen. As Veronica stepped out the van, she caught a glimpse of what they were watching – it was a black and white image of the classroom Neal was just walking into. She wasn’t sure why they’d want to monitor the class, and she couldn’t say for certain they wouldn’t be sending in a team to arrest Sheridan, but for now, she donned Nicole’s introspective demeanor and joined Neal for class.
Another successful class on humility in the bag, Veronica collected assigned essays from students as they departed. She tapped them on a desk to straighten the stack, slyly slipping a note on top that read, “Big brother’s watching,” and handed the packet over to Neal, careful to avoid the angle she thought the camera was capturing. It probably wouldn’t matter, since Neal already knew his watch was live, but in case he’d planned on communicating via interpretive dance (another random skill she could only imagine he’d probably mastered at some point), she wanted him to know. For all she knew, Jones might have had his ops team install a camera in the room just to see how Neal fared as a professor of humility. She’d certainly seen stranger things as an intern, but it still seemed odd to her that they wouldn’t have told either Neal or her about it.
“So you have another appointment with Professor Samuels this afternoon?” Veronica asked, injecting a young woman’s interest in potential romantic intrigue into her question in case anyone other than the Feds were listening. “I can read these for you,” she offered, indicating the pile of essays as they walked out of the room. “I’ll grade them and then send them over in PDF for your review later.” Up ahead, Veronica spotted Sheridan rounding a corner. On one hand, she was relieved the woman hadn’t been arrested. However, on the other hand, the woman was dressed to kill, and even the sedate student body seemed to notice, all eyes following her down the hall as she approached Neal. Veronica had never felt more invisible as she took the essays back with the intention of discarding her warning in the ladies’ room on her way out to the van. “Good luck,” she said, sounding like a cheeky undergrad but genuinely meaning it. From the looks of it, he was going to need it.
Neal barely had a chance to toss Mars a thankful look, clearly glad to have the warning. The added layer of surveillance was unexpected indeed, but not entirely out of character for the FBI; Peter had been distrusting of Neal's antics for as long as Neal had given Peter reasons to; it was a tit-for-tat that stretched back years before they ever would have been considered friends. Why should this be any different?
"Good afternoon, Professor Samuels," he greeted from the doorway. His adopted persona allowed a small amount of natural charisma, but he otherwise affected a pretty neutral aura. As he adjusted his glasses, she pressed through him like he was a saloon door, a hand square on his chest easing him out of the way effortlessly. Neal looked suitably stunned and quickly closed the door before following after the self-assured woman.
She perched herself on the corner of his desk and Neal suspected everyone in the van would be wondering why she looked so coolly calm if she was here to discuss rolling on a colleague. "You look absolutely—"
"Oh!" Neal held up a hand. "That's me," he said of the classical music that began playing from his pocket. He reached for his phone, answering on the side he didn't wear his watch. Sheridan looked perturbed but willing to wait. Caffrey, as Reynolds, went on to have a one-sided conversation: "Reynolds. Ah, yes, I sincerely apologize, I do normally have a free hour, however something came up. No. No. Of course not. I hadn't considered that, no, but I— That's not the understanding I had. No." He begged for a moment from the waiting woman, nodding in her direction but keeping up his conversation. "Interesting. Well, that's— Are you sure? No. I hadn't, no. That's terribly unfortunate. Thank you for letting me know. Goodbye."
Eyebrow raised high on her forehead, the woman seemed to be questioning him on some level. "That must have been important."
As he passed her, Neal grabbed up a legal pad and a pen. "My lawyer," he told her, perhaps a bit grimly. It wasn't a lie, in fact, although no one else would know Neal had been talking to Mozzie (although anyone in the van might have guessed at this point).
"That's terribly unfortunate," she mocked, grappling his tie and pulling him along. In Neal's wake he'd left the legal pad, "I.T." hastily written in large letters.
It wasn't just their destination, but also a clue from Mozzie, and proof of the previously tenuous connection to Kane Software. They hadn't been looking for another educator, but a network administrator with a god complex and a record of bouncing from school to school. From the basement of Dalton, one person had unprecedented access and he'd been using it to his advantage, not just to install people on the staff that could help him, but also to blackmail those who weren't necessarily interested in being involved. Maybe more nefarious than that, Mozzie had uncovered the real connection to Interpol: Rogers had been undercover, and in a roundabout way, the Cézanne had been a government sanctioned forgery. He'd been there for Sheridan who had started this whole process stepping in as a partner helping to forge and fence identities, and who had quickly gotten in over her head when she realized those identities were those of the bright young children born to affluent families. And also the reason Rogers was investigating. That she had cut him out suggested she knew his connections, and based on the tidbit of conversation they'd recorded from Rogers the day before, it was suddenly clear that the final tracking data taking him to the warehouse district was probably leading him to the last meeting he'd ever attend.
Neal felt a sobered as they descended the stairs into the basement, a pang of guilt gnawing at him. There was nothing she wouldn't do to get out from under this, he realized, including feeding him a line about needing backup when she "confronted the creep downstairs." He hadn't expected that to be so literal, and now that everything was in motion, he was hoping the video feed picked up his message or that Veronica had returned to find the legal pad in his absence.
Veronica had returned dutifully to the FBI van just in time to see Jones and Peter pile out and head toward the school.
“Hey, where are you guys - “
“Get in the van, Veronica,” Peter barked.
Veronica stopped in her tracks, frowning. Something had clearly happened while she was in the restroom. She hopped up into the van as instructed and went right to the video feed. On the desk, plain as day, she could see Neal’s note.
She climbed back out of the van and headed in the same direction she’d seen Peter and Jones take. The best weapon she had was a slim can of Mace her father insisted she carry, so she armed herself and went to the external entrance door that led directly to the basement offices where the IT department was located.
Peter, Jones, and a handful of armed agents were already crowded in the hallway when Veronica joined them. One of the agents moved to send her back upstairs, taking her for a student, but Jones waved her forward to join them at the front.
Peter frowned deeply at her, but he bent to whisper in her ear. “Neal is in there with Sheridan and Victor Clerk.” He paused, thinking to himself before holstering his weapon. “Come on, you can’t take direction, but you can help.” To Jones, he added, “Keep everyone out of sight until we’re in there.” He raised his eyebrows, silently adding, “and if things get hairy, come in shooting.”
Peter straightened up, buttoning his jacket over his weapon, mussing his hair, and loosening his tie. He winked at Veronica, then took her by the waist and spun her around. He crashed into the door, sending them both tumbling unceremoniously into the room. Veronica, for her part, caught on quickly, giggling and holding onto Peter like he was her last port in a storm. She let out a small, “Oh! Sorry!” when she saw Neal, Sheridan, and Clerk looking at them.
Peter pretended to look abashed and pulled away from Veronica, straightening his tie. “Hello. Uh, Nicole here was just showing me around the basement offices.” He crossed the room in two long strides under the guise of making introductions. He took Neal’s hand first, maneuvering himself between Neal and Clerk. “Greg Peters, new to administration. How are ya?”
Neal looked both relieved and horrified all at once, subtly squeezing the offered hand as he and Peter exchanged meaningful looks. Try as he might, Caffrey found that there were times where Burke could act entirely unexpectedly. It had, perhaps, been the chief reason that Peter had been successful in capturing Neal, although the conman would forever claim he'd let the Fed have that particular collar.
Clerk, suspicious of these new additions in his domain, eyed Peter. He knew that all new admin positions were supplied to him several days in advance. The I.T. department was in charge of setup and installation, acquiring the appropriate software and hardware, and in Clerk's case, loading additional programming that allowed him access to far more than just the local network.
"Really? They hired you," Neal gaped, sensing Victor's reticence in accepting this mini-con. He felt tense, as he often did when violence was looming inevitably. "On the spot? Unbelievable..."
Burke smirked. "And you must be Reynolds." It read like an accusation. "Nicky— ah, Nicole said you'd be a little sore. Listen, we don't know each other, but—"
Clerk looked at the group gathered in his office and shook his head, effortless brandishing a pistol from within his desk. "Everyone needs to shut the hell up. Now. This Abbott and Costello routine's getting real old and I know Rogers sent at least one of you."
Neal raised his hands immediately, eyes wide. He inched in Veronica's direction, coincidentally away from the gun.
Peter turned, eyes suddenly dark with purpose. Any affectation immediately fell away and he spoke very slowly and carefully. "Clerk, it's over. You're surrounded. There's a dozen FBI agents waiting to take you down. Don't do anything you'll regret," he warned, but it wasn't just posturing. He could see the gun wasn't even loaded and advanced, smacking the pistol hand aside and putting Clerk in a hold against the wall.
Sheridan, for her own part, was backing away with some intention of trying to slip out, but Veronica was between her an the door and she didn't think Reynolds would be much help here, so it was clear she was getting desperate.
“What am I charged with? I want to call my lawyer!” Clerk protested, trying to shrug Peter off. Clearly, he thought Peter was bluffing about being surrounded.
“Plenty of time for all that ahead of you,” Peter told him cheerfully, handcuffing the man.
Veronica, for her part, made eye contact with Sheridan and opened the door as if to let her go.
The woman was greeted by the barrel of Jones’ gun and his gruff command, “Hands in the air!” Sheridan, whatever she was, wasn’t stupid, and she quietly complied until Jones helped her into a pair of cuffs. Jones and a few members of the ops team took care of escorting the pair out just in time for the last bell, and the rest stayed behind in the IT office to secure and collect evidence.
Veronica, Neal, and Peter reconvened on the lawn amidst the students, who were substantially less-subdued than normal, laughing, gossiping loudly, and pointing at the spectacle of a supposed professor and IT guy being led away.
Peter smiled at the pair, but it was with a measured approval. Clearly, he wasn’t entirely happy with how events had gone down, but glad all were safe and another pair of criminals would soon be behind bars. “Why don’t you two go home and get some rest? I’ll see you both tomorrow at ten, my office, for the debrief.” He squeezed Neal’s shoulder as he passed, then headed off to join the FBI fun.
“You okay?” Veronica asked Neal. He was unharmed, but visibly pale and less… well, less Neal than normal. Veronica felt the exact opposite of how Neal looked - she was exhilarated by the events, her cheeks flushed and high with color. She’d had a gun pointed at her before, but the thrill of escaping with her life was a rush that never went away. She didn’t relish another opportunity, but she couldn’t deny how alive she felt.
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As she drew closer, she heard a woman’s voice. It sounded like a one-sided phone conversation carrying into the courtyard below. Veronica slowed, pretending to look around to gain her bearings, turning in a half circle until she could hear better.
“Tomorrow, yes,” came the strident tone. “If you aren’t there, the deal’s off.”
It was thin, but it might be something, though Veronica thought whoever was dressing people down over the phone would have been a little more discreet if there was an actual crime afoot. She was turning back when she heard a phone ring from the same location. Unless it was a ringtone, it certainly sounded like an actual desk phone ring.
“Professor Samuels.” She could be mistaken, but to Veronica’s ears, it sounded like the same voice, though more professional. “No, sir, I’m not dealing with Rogers any longer. He screwed us - you. He screwed you.”
Well, now that was something. Veronica edged closer to the courtyard balcony, but she couldn’t see anything except the reflection of the garden below in polished windows. Figuring that meant she could be seen, Veronica retreated, heading back to the classroom just in time for the bell. As soon as the last of the students filed out, Veronica told Neal of her journey.
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"Look alive," Peter said to the room as he walked in, but he clearly meant Neal. Taking his place at the front of the room, Burke held his case file in hand as he waited for everyone to settle. "We think we've got our first lead," he revealed with a thin smile. He didn't want to get overly excited, but any lead was better than no lead.
Diana looked uncertain as they all stared at Peter. "Are you going to share with the class, boss?" She was only on her lunch break and would need to get back soon.
Burke was ready to burst, clearly more excited than anyone should have any right to be. "We're looking at two people," he said, separating the file in hand to reveal it was actually two gathered together. "And I think you'll all recognize this guy," the agent added, a pointed look being spared in Neal's direction as he showed off the photo.
"Rogers, really?" Caffrey huffed, feining surprise. Perhaps Veronica had shared, or maybe Peter's was as clever as always. Either way, Neal wasn't concerned to think the FBI might be catching up to their own investigation. "Are you sure?"
Peter pursed his lips and looked between Veronica and Neal. Something about this didn't feel right, but he let it go, and instead responded rather ominously, "Oh, positive. He's in town, now we just need to find him and bring him in for questioning."
Neal raised his eyebrows and muttered, "Good luck with that." Rogers was almost as slippery as he was.
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Jones nodded to Peter. “And the other file?”
“We looked at some of Rogers past associates, and there is someone who fits the bill in this case.” He advanced the screen to display a grainy shot of dark-haired woman wearing sunglasses and waiting to cross a street. The photo caught her mostly in profile. “Antoinette Sheridan.”
Diana piped up, sounding excited. “Oh, I know this one – 1997, Belize, apprehended for forging a Brunelleschi.”
Peter pointed his pen at her. “Exactly. This is a case the Academy still uses because she got off on a technicality. But if she’s involved in this, we might be able to lock her up for good.”
Veronica studied the image, jotting down the name in her notes. “How old is that picture?” she asked.
Burke glanced down to his notes. “Traffic cam at Houston and Clinton, May, 2004.” He looked up at her approvingly. “So we don’t know what she looks like, and while Sheridan is her birth name, she could be going by any alias.” He shrugged, grinning crookedly. “We’ve done more with less.”
Veronica had a good feeling Sheridan was now going by the name Samuels and was also their fake professor, but until she had more details, she was keeping that between Neal and her. She was also pretty confident Peter was wrong – they weren’t looking at two suspects, but three. Whoever called Samuels on her office phone (assuming Veronica was right about the second call) had to be in the school somewhere because the desk lines were an old inter-office system. They’d learned during orientation that the handsets had been upgraded, but the wiring had not, so outside calls all needed to be made via mobile, from the main offices, or from the emergency phones located on every floor.
Peter excused the assembled, and Veronica and Neal were once more left to their own devices.
“Walk a girl to the subway, teach?”
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When he returned to Mars, he was slightly heavier with gaudy and garish ankle jewelry, but not gloomy over it at all as he hooked arms with Veronica and made way for the elevators.
Outside, and despite everything, he felt freer. While he'd given up his close contact with Veronica in the elevator, he was lingering close to her as they finally found themselves outside the very sensitive ears of the Bureau.
"That was wild," he said, laughing lightly. "I figured Peter would be on our tails, but he's putting this together quicker than I thought." It wasn't far to the subway station, so he stopped at a street vendor, gesturing for a cup of coffee.
"Do me a favor," he began as he fished into his inside pocket for his wallet. He produced cash and a business card-sized piece of paper, but instead of offering it out, he returned his wallet to his pocket and received his coffee. It looked like a random locksmith's business card. "There's a number on this card," Neal said, and cryptically and carefully poured the coffee along one edge. Shaking off the excess, he added, "Wait two hours for that to develop and text Mozzie at that number about what happened today," and offered it over. "Burner if you've got it, just to be safe." He paid and tipped the vendor, carrying to rest of the coffee because he didn't want to throw the rest out in front of the guy.
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Once the card revealed the number like magic, Veronica sent a text to Mozzie.
Newly arrived CA gal seeking knowledgeable NYer for good conversation
Within a few minutes in which she tried (and failed) to busy herself and not stare at the burner phone, she received a response.
Bethesda terrace 16:21 NYer will bring refreshments
It was already quarter to four, so she quickly changed into something that would help her blend in with the midday Central Park tourist crowd, complete with her Nikon D3500 on a strap over her shoulder, and hustled back to the subway.
That evening, Mozzie popped by with a chicken vindaloo for June and was already enjoying a glass of Beaujolais on Neal’s terrace by the time he turned up.
“California and I had a nice lunch today,” he announced, handing over a large envelope. “And then we met an old friend for coffee.”
The friend, Neal would find once he opened the envelope, was Arthur Rogers (aka Mark Bridges, aka Sylvester Mancuso, aka Edward Anthony, etc.), and by “coffee”, Mozz had meant surveillance. There were a few shots of Rogers entering and leaving a luxury apartment building on Sixth Avenue. The photographs were labeled with the time. He’d entered the building at 6:15 with nothing and left just six minutes later carrying an attaché.
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"This is good work," he said. No surprise there; between the two of them, he couldn't think of a safer and more productive team to do their groundwork. If he weren't so heavily monitored, Neal would most certainly have gone with them. Instead, he at least got to live in the knowledge that he surrounded himself with the best of the best. For Neal, little was more important than that.
"So, now we need to get close to Rogers." That was the logical next step. If they followed the guy, got themselves a good amount of information on his habits and otherwise, they'd have all they needed; unfortunately, that required a lot more time than any of them had, Neal was certain of it.
Mozzie grinned and raised his glass. "I've already got you covered," he said. "Take a look at the addendum."
Neal raised an eyebrow, flipped to the last page, and grinned, too. "Moz, I could kiss you. This is going to work perfectly."
Early the next morning, Neal waited for Veronica outside Planet Fitness. It was just on the egde of his radius, thankfully, and a public venue, so he imagined he wouldn't get too many questions. Still, he was dressed down, well-hidden under a baseball cap. He wasn't so concerned about being seen as being seen with Mars. Their daytime law enforcement was messing with their nighttime crime, but none of it would be any good to anyone if they blew their cover.
"Hey, glad you could make it," he said, immediately spotting her. "It's early, I know; I'm sorry," he added, immediately holding up his hands to show he surrendered to how crappy this was. "I know I didn't give a lot of details, either, but bear with me..." He clearly was about to bring forth an unpopular recommendation.
Leaning out of direct view of the door, Caffrey made sure to hide his face as Rogers passed through the door behind them. He glanced only when he knew the guy was gone, then looked back to Veronica. "Moz gave me a tracking dot. We can get into his locker to put it in his bag, but I'd feel safer if we could keep him occupied. He's awfully lonely these days," he said, pointedly, "And I think he could use a friend. Or, a good-looking interested party, if you get my meaning." Neal held up his hand in the usual rock-paper-scissors way. It was probably easier to lose in this case.
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She stepped inside the gym, unzipping her jacket to ensure she'd be extra eye-catching in her slim-fitting workout gear. Then she put herself into Roger's line of site, dropping down to one knee and carefully retying her shoelace until she was sure he saw her. From there, it was almost too easy. Clearly, she was his type. Fabulous.
For the next five minutes, she chatted him up, feigning interest in his high opinion of himself with the expertise of someone used to meeting Hollywood actors. She could tell he was aiming to be charming like a Clooney, but there was an oiliness about him that read as sleazy like a Slater, so she was relieved when she caught sight of Neal subtly signalling for her to follow him back outside. She extended the conversation for another thirty seconds to give him a lead, then excused herself, claiming that she had a spin class on the upper floor and that she'd love to meet him at the juice bar afterward. Too bad for Rogers, Veronica's flirtatious alter ego was a flake.
She caught up to Neal just down the block, buying coffee from a vendor. She accepted a paper cup from him and tapped it against his. "To our success, I hope."
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As they walked, he explained. "The tracking data's active, but the audio's set to record only when there's ambient sound. We'll get about eight hours on the battery that way, so we're still going to need to get lucky, but I think we're heading in the right direction."
The data, which was set to upload to a secure severe as the device's last command, could hold all the information they needed in unraveling this whole scenario well ahead of the FBI. It meant, if they were fortunate, they'd know their step. Already it felt like the chase was picking up pace. "How'd it go with Rogers? He's always been a real bro." It was obviously not a compliment.
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"How do you even know him? Is there, like, a crime convention, or is it a secret us non-criminals can't know of?" Veronica was teasing him, clearly herself giddy from their mini-con. But she was truly curious to know if Neal's circle of crime pals was really so wide and varied, or if Rogers was only known by reputation. Nothing Neal said at this late-stage could change her opinion of him, but she was enjoying learning his unique story in small chunks. It was a new thing to meet a con man who wasn't actively running a con on her or someone she knew. Though considering what she did know of him, she had wondered more than once if she wasn't just allowing herself to be taken in.
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"We met once or twice," he revealed, nonplussed more than troubled. It had been a long time ago, and only in passing, but a very young and arrogant Nick Harden had certainly made enough of an impression to stick with the guy, Neal was certain of that. Had they met again in the gym, it would have certainly provided the necessary distraction, although it likely would have meant they would have needed to move on Rogers and the rest almost immediately (as well as involve Burke, who would no doubt have more than a few displeased words about the whole ordeal).
"I was in Wales for... reasons. Rogers was up-and-coming, we were both in it for the same thing. In the end, I bowed out, but not before putting a significant roadblock between Rogers and his goal." Neal shrugged. He wasn't beyond being a little spiteful under the right circumstances. "You spend enough time doing this, the faces all start looking familiar. Even when they're changing behind your back." If anyone could understand how quickly a person could change things up, or disappear, or both, it would be Veronica.
He sipped his coffee as he waited for the light to change. "Mozzie's going to watch in case he bolts. We'll have to go about our business today, but by dinnertime, we should know a bit more about how deep into this Rogers has gotten himself."
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"I'm going to have to change before class," she reminded him, hefting her bag on her shoulder for emphasis. "Can we stop at your place?" They were already pretty close, and it beat having to change in a bathroom, even the nicely appointed ones at Dalton.
A few hours later, Veronica and Neal walked out of the 89th Street building together after another class just as it began to drizzle. She spotted a middle-aged woman struggling to light a cigarette in the stiff breeze. Veronica had already done a little recon before class, and she recognized the woman as having come from a lower-floor office in the same direction she'd heard the conversation from the day before.
"I think it's your turn to charm someone," she said quietly, nodding discreetly in the direction of the woman she took for to so-called Professor Samuels. "I have a date in the meantime." She grinned and split off to join Mozzie where he loitered neutrally near the door of a deli. She imagined she'd be seeing Neal soon enough at his place.
((ooc: I just assumed Neal wouldn't deny Veronica changing at his place, so I just skipped over his chance to say no.))
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"Nice of you to—" Mozzie started, his wine glass already lifted to toast Caffrey, but the words died on his lips and he shook his head. Neal didn't look all that pleased. "That bad?"
Neal tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and poured a little heavily from the open bottle on the table. He could see Veronica out on the terrace, her face gently illuminated on one side by the light of her cellphone. They waved through the threshold and he offered her a wan smile in response to her apologetic look.
"Neal." Moz was prompting him, a hand resting on his arm out of concern.
"That bad," he finally agreed, although he knew he was being dramatic. It had nearly been a waste of time, too, Caffrey thought, although he was reserving judgement until he could have a little time to digest the conversation he'd had with the woman. "She was vocal about how unhappy she was at the school, not to mention how terrible the kids are," he grumped with an eyeroll, obviously bothered.
Mozzie could understand why it bothered Neal. It bothered him, too, and he knew Mars hadn't appreciated how some of the staff were overly expectant of students already doing an exceptional job. He squeezed Neal's arm and let his hand fall away just as Veronica hung up the phone. "California and I were just finishing compiling the tracking data. The audio file should be ready in about ten minutes," he filled in, quickly changing the subject.
Neal's half-smile to Mozzie was grateful, but his attention was on Veronica. He gestured to her phone, asking, "You didn't have to cancel your dinner plans again, did you?"
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So Veronica pasted on a smile, knowing that she’d cheer up quickly once the three of them hit their stride. “There’s cold noodles in the fridge for you, if you want them,” she told Neal. Food was always a balm after a bad date, even if it had just been a sham.
Mozzie raised his glass, toasting no one in particular. “We’re just about there.”
He turned the screen toward Neal and Veronica. Rogers’ route took him from the Sixth Avenue apartment where they’d photographed him the day before, to Dalton, and then to a building in Chelsea that housed a hipster gin bar and a number of small law, medical, and corporate offices. Mozzie rattled off the names in the building’s directory for their benefit, pausing when he got to “...the Law Office of Dory and Boutin.” At that, he looked up at Neal. “A little too obvious. I don’t like the way this is smelling.”
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Mozzie was already pulling up records, clacking away at the keys with one practiced hand while the other fed him his steady stream of wine. "Opened recently — about the time Rogers dropped off the radar," he noted meaningfully.
"Allegedly," Neal said after swallowing a mouthful of noodles. He was already feeling better by the bite.
"He's so suspicious," the other man teased in Veronica's direction. They all knew if Neal hadn't said it, Mozzie would have eventually. "But I tend to agree that Rogers isn't in as much distress about all of this Interpol business as we're being led to believe."
Caffrey sipped to clear his mouth and said, "Because Samuels is losing her mind instead." Something about that had Neal's gears turning. "I'll bet there's a connection we're not seeing. Something further back. She was way too irritated — not afraid, but irritated. An ex maybe?" He remembered Kate using the same tone of voice when Alex had stepped into the picture.
"How often does that happen?" Mozzie asked, knowing full well that none of them were innocent of getting a significant other involved in their worlds, no matter how well-meaning.
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"She seemed respectful of whoever she was on the phone with the second time, but she also wasn't afraid to tell him that she refused to work with Rogers." That indicated to Veronica that she was deferential to whoever pulled the strings, but not so much that she didn't at least call some of the shots. So there must have been a partnership, however unequal. If she added in the fact that she'd taken Neal up on his offer of coffee, other than noting that the woman wasn't blind, that also seemed to point to the fact she was currently unattached (or at least unafraid of hurting her significant other), so she probably wasn't romantically linked with the Man Behind the Mask.
So that led Veronica to the conclusion that perhaps Samuels and Rogers had been romantically linked at one point. That was certainly enough to explain her open hostility. But did it point to anything else?
A sudden thought struck her, and she opened the dossier Peter had made on Rogers, scanned through a few documents, and then pointed out a section to Neal and Mozzie.
"Look at this."
"And there's a photo." She flipped through the packet to a grainy CCTV image of Rogers and his accomplices. Samuels, aka Antoinette Sheridan, was younger, prettier, and mostly disguised by a scarf and dark glasses, but it was definitely her arm in arm with Rogers. The other man was captured in an almost perfect profile, but the image was so poor, he might as well have been a silhouette portrait.
Again, it was a thin lead, but it might be something. If they could find a mid-fiftyish Black man who'd recently been installed at Dalton, they might know their third suspect.
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"There are afternoon classes we've missed completely," he noted, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Three or four specialties."
Moz snorted. "Was woodworking on the list?"
"As a matter of fact, it was," he said, altogether impressed by the deduction until he remembered one small detail. Sitting forward again, he asked, "The frame?"
"Tools, access, time, motivation—" Mozzie was counting out the ways the theory worked.
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"Suit," Moz replied, sitting back with his glass.
"Great timing, Peter," said Veronica cheerily. She was used to dodging around that caught-in-the-act feeling thanks to Keith always being so hot on her heels during an investigation. The key was to flip it and make it seem like she was planning on handing over the evidence all along. In this case, she guessed Peter and his team weren't far behind anyway, so they were just saving a morning briefing. She passed Peter Rogers' dossier opened to the picture of him with Sheridan and the mystery man.
"Sheridan is posing as Victoria Samuels, professor of Art Theory." She smiled, pleased with herself to present this as if she, Neal, and Mozz hadn't already figured it out days before.
"We know," Peter said, looking at the photograph before handing it back. "Diana figured it out today, and we wanted to tell you at this afternoon's briefing." He looked pointedly at the pair of them.
Veronica, for her part, had the good sense to look abashed. "Sorry. I was waiting to hear what Neal found out before we wasted the FBI's time. And there was wine." To prove the point, she raised her glass to Mozzie, and they drank.
Peter turned his attention back to Neal. "And you took her for coffee to confirm your suspicions, huh?" Peter nodded, answering his own question. "Well, good work. That's our case, closed. We'll be arresting her first thing in the morning at the school."
"Wait - there's more!" Veronica knew further FBI involvement could potentially disrupt the investigation and its connection to Kane Software, but pulling out now could leave the mastermind on the table. Without the FBI's access, she and Neal would have no reason to continue snooping around. And besides, if Diana was given a target, she could suss out his identity quickly, the Feds could get credit for the collar, and she, Mozzie, and Neal would have at least another day or two to work through the rest of it. It was a win-win-win.
She held up the photograph, tapping the unknown figure. "We have reason to believe this guy's the third man, and he might be working for the school as well." She looked at Neal, trying to communicate with her eyes her need for him to stretch the truth in their favor without visibly doing anything Peter would notice. "Neal - tell him what you learned from your coffee date."
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"Well, since you asked," Neal began, but the rest of it died there. He was fine with Peter's suspicions, but it ever more felt like that was always going to be the hallmark of any interaction they had unless Burke was directing the action or otherwise implicitly involved in it. True enough, Caffrey was going behind his friend's back, but what he was doing here with Veronica and Moz wasn't hindering the FBI's investigation, and the only reason Caffrey could imagine it was an issue was due to the fact that Peter felt cut out. He never seemed to want to acknowledge that occasionally that was for good reasons. "Sheridan's willing to make a deal."
Burke raised his eyes to the ceiling just missing the helpless exchange between Mozzie and Neal. "We've been over this—"
"I know, Peter. I can't make any deals, and I didn't, but we talked..." Caffrey had no problem coming up with an elegant lie that kept his and Veronica's cover and ensured their return. "I'm just a concerned coworker, remember?" That seemed to appease Peter a hair and he didn't look quite so interested in throttling all of them. "She admitted she was lost and desperate for money, that she'd gotten in over her head. I almost had her convinced to do the right thing." Neal's voice got low and he gave Burke the biggest eyes he could muster, like he always did when he needed to convince someone he was right. "She wants to see me tomorrow. She said she'd tell me everything, but she needed to take care of something at the school first."
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“Okay, but you’re going to be miked tomorrow.” He leveled a stern look at his CI before looking to Veronica. “Can I give you a ride uptown?”
Veronica knew what awaited her in Peter’s Taurus; she’d heard all the same lectures from her own Dad about getting in too deep and trusting the wrong people. But she trusted Mozzie and Neal, and moreover, she was having a good time. And maybe there was a weensy dash of self-sabotage, too, in putting both her career and relationships in potential jeopardy, but honestly that only added to the allure.
However, she also knew turning him down in favor of her crime pals would look like she’d chosen a side, so she nodded. “Thanks, Peter, if it’s not out of your way.” She stood, giving both Neal and Mozzie hugs on her way out.
The following day found Veronica tense. Her dry cleaner had shrunk the sweater she’d planned on wearing, Piz had been moodily slamming cabinet and closet doors as they got ready in silence, and the subway was a half an hour late. By the time she arrived at the White Collar offices, all she had time for was a quick cup of black, Federally-funded Joe. And it was burnt.
Peter called in the team, and Jones briefed them on the operation. Neal was going to meet Sheridan before his class. If they didn’t get any clear intel, they planned to move in for the arrest once Neal’s class was in session. Then they would interrogate her in the offices, with Neal on hand and his cover in tact if they needed it to bargain.
If Neal could extract something worthwhile, however, Peter was willing to leave her free until they could identify the third man. That way, it might be possible to catch all three without having to cut any deals.
Veronica was hoping for the second outcome, of course, but she was mostly grateful to be off the hook for the heavy lifting. Peter’s dire warnings cloaked as kindly concern the night before were as she expected, but surprisingly, she did feel her confidence in the secondary operation shaken slightly. Mozzie and Neal were both good people, of that she was certain, but what their goal was remained unclear. So she’d ride out and take the next day or so as it came, hoping that when she did have to make a choice, she’d be ready.
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With his mike live for all to hear (Veronica included,) Neal cleared his throat as Sheridan entered the lounge. The lies he'd told the night before were going to be hard to back up, and even harder to cover under the FBI's direct scrutiny, but Caffrey had known as much as he'd made up the story, so he'd like to count himself prepared, even if he didn't feel it.
"About last night," she began, just another voice on the line to anyone but Neal.
He stopped her quickly. "Don't worry about it," he said, his voice warm with a smile. "Have you thought any about what I'd suggested?"
She raised an intrigued eyebrow Caffrey was glad no one else could see. Combined with her grin, he knew he had to be careful. "Oh, about—"
"—getting the help you need, right." He pressed. The subject at hand was clearly one that neither of them wanted overheard. "Today."
"Someone's in a hurry," she said, and it didn't sound like a person that was hoping to make a deal with the FBI, but without eyes on either of them, Neal had to believe that they wouldn't know her true intentions. Better for him, at least; he infrequently felt like a peice of meat in these situations, but the way she was eyeing him, he wasn't sure there wasn't some intention to have him as a meal. "I have class, but... we'll see what we can do." She seemed pleased.
Neal let out a slow breath and nodded as she retreated towards the door. "See you after," he said, mostly for Peter's benefit. It bought him time, he hoped, but it also meant he needed to find an answer for the next step in this journey, else they'll lose their lead and Peter will know for sure the jig was up.
Checking his watch, Neal grabbed his coffee, straightened his tie, and went to meet Veronica for their class together. If the Feds charged into the building halfway through, Caffrey would know his ploy hadn't worked.
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Peter glanced back with a crooked smile Veronica hoped meant he was pleased with what he heard. “You’re up, Veronica.” He patted her shoulder, turning back to something Jones was pulling up on a screen. As Veronica stepped out the van, she caught a glimpse of what they were watching – it was a black and white image of the classroom Neal was just walking into. She wasn’t sure why they’d want to monitor the class, and she couldn’t say for certain they wouldn’t be sending in a team to arrest Sheridan, but for now, she donned Nicole’s introspective demeanor and joined Neal for class.
Another successful class on humility in the bag, Veronica collected assigned essays from students as they departed. She tapped them on a desk to straighten the stack, slyly slipping a note on top that read, “Big brother’s watching,” and handed the packet over to Neal, careful to avoid the angle she thought the camera was capturing. It probably wouldn’t matter, since Neal already knew his watch was live, but in case he’d planned on communicating via interpretive dance (another random skill she could only imagine he’d probably mastered at some point), she wanted him to know. For all she knew, Jones might have had his ops team install a camera in the room just to see how Neal fared as a professor of humility. She’d certainly seen stranger things as an intern, but it still seemed odd to her that they wouldn’t have told either Neal or her about it.
“So you have another appointment with Professor Samuels this afternoon?” Veronica asked, injecting a young woman’s interest in potential romantic intrigue into her question in case anyone other than the Feds were listening. “I can read these for you,” she offered, indicating the pile of essays as they walked out of the room. “I’ll grade them and then send them over in PDF for your review later.” Up ahead, Veronica spotted Sheridan rounding a corner. On one hand, she was relieved the woman hadn’t been arrested. However, on the other hand, the woman was dressed to kill, and even the sedate student body seemed to notice, all eyes following her down the hall as she approached Neal. Veronica had never felt more invisible as she took the essays back with the intention of discarding her warning in the ladies’ room on her way out to the van. “Good luck,” she said, sounding like a cheeky undergrad but genuinely meaning it. From the looks of it, he was going to need it.
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"Good afternoon, Professor Samuels," he greeted from the doorway. His adopted persona allowed a small amount of natural charisma, but he otherwise affected a pretty neutral aura. As he adjusted his glasses, she pressed through him like he was a saloon door, a hand square on his chest easing him out of the way effortlessly. Neal looked suitably stunned and quickly closed the door before following after the self-assured woman.
She perched herself on the corner of his desk and Neal suspected everyone in the van would be wondering why she looked so coolly calm if she was here to discuss rolling on a colleague. "You look absolutely—"
"Oh!" Neal held up a hand. "That's me," he said of the classical music that began playing from his pocket. He reached for his phone, answering on the side he didn't wear his watch. Sheridan looked perturbed but willing to wait. Caffrey, as Reynolds, went on to have a one-sided conversation: "Reynolds. Ah, yes, I sincerely apologize, I do normally have a free hour, however something came up. No. No. Of course not. I hadn't considered that, no, but I— That's not the understanding I had. No." He begged for a moment from the waiting woman, nodding in her direction but keeping up his conversation. "Interesting. Well, that's— Are you sure? No. I hadn't, no. That's terribly unfortunate. Thank you for letting me know. Goodbye."
Eyebrow raised high on her forehead, the woman seemed to be questioning him on some level. "That must have been important."
As he passed her, Neal grabbed up a legal pad and a pen. "My lawyer," he told her, perhaps a bit grimly. It wasn't a lie, in fact, although no one else would know Neal had been talking to Mozzie (although anyone in the van might have guessed at this point).
"That's terribly unfortunate," she mocked, grappling his tie and pulling him along. In Neal's wake he'd left the legal pad, "I.T." hastily written in large letters.
It wasn't just their destination, but also a clue from Mozzie, and proof of the previously tenuous connection to Kane Software. They hadn't been looking for another educator, but a network administrator with a god complex and a record of bouncing from school to school. From the basement of Dalton, one person had unprecedented access and he'd been using it to his advantage, not just to install people on the staff that could help him, but also to blackmail those who weren't necessarily interested in being involved. Maybe more nefarious than that, Mozzie had uncovered the real connection to Interpol: Rogers had been undercover, and in a roundabout way, the Cézanne had been a government sanctioned forgery. He'd been there for Sheridan who had started this whole process stepping in as a partner helping to forge and fence identities, and who had quickly gotten in over her head when she realized those identities were those of the bright young children born to affluent families. And also the reason Rogers was investigating. That she had cut him out suggested she knew his connections, and based on the tidbit of conversation they'd recorded from Rogers the day before, it was suddenly clear that the final tracking data taking him to the warehouse district was probably leading him to the last meeting he'd ever attend.
Neal felt a sobered as they descended the stairs into the basement, a pang of guilt gnawing at him. There was nothing she wouldn't do to get out from under this, he realized, including feeding him a line about needing backup when she "confronted the creep downstairs." He hadn't expected that to be so literal, and now that everything was in motion, he was hoping the video feed picked up his message or that Veronica had returned to find the legal pad in his absence.
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“Hey, where are you guys - “
“Get in the van, Veronica,” Peter barked.
Veronica stopped in her tracks, frowning. Something had clearly happened while she was in the restroom. She hopped up into the van as instructed and went right to the video feed. On the desk, plain as day, she could see Neal’s note.
She climbed back out of the van and headed in the same direction she’d seen Peter and Jones take. The best weapon she had was a slim can of Mace her father insisted she carry, so she armed herself and went to the external entrance door that led directly to the basement offices where the IT department was located.
Peter, Jones, and a handful of armed agents were already crowded in the hallway when Veronica joined them. One of the agents moved to send her back upstairs, taking her for a student, but Jones waved her forward to join them at the front.
Peter frowned deeply at her, but he bent to whisper in her ear. “Neal is in there with Sheridan and Victor Clerk.” He paused, thinking to himself before holstering his weapon. “Come on, you can’t take direction, but you can help.” To Jones, he added, “Keep everyone out of sight until we’re in there.” He raised his eyebrows, silently adding, “and if things get hairy, come in shooting.”
Peter straightened up, buttoning his jacket over his weapon, mussing his hair, and loosening his tie. He winked at Veronica, then took her by the waist and spun her around. He crashed into the door, sending them both tumbling unceremoniously into the room. Veronica, for her part, caught on quickly, giggling and holding onto Peter like he was her last port in a storm. She let out a small, “Oh! Sorry!” when she saw Neal, Sheridan, and Clerk looking at them.
Peter pretended to look abashed and pulled away from Veronica, straightening his tie. “Hello. Uh, Nicole here was just showing me around the basement offices.” He crossed the room in two long strides under the guise of making introductions. He took Neal’s hand first, maneuvering himself between Neal and Clerk. “Greg Peters, new to administration. How are ya?”
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Clerk, suspicious of these new additions in his domain, eyed Peter. He knew that all new admin positions were supplied to him several days in advance. The I.T. department was in charge of setup and installation, acquiring the appropriate software and hardware, and in Clerk's case, loading additional programming that allowed him access to far more than just the local network.
"Really? They hired you," Neal gaped, sensing Victor's reticence in accepting this mini-con. He felt tense, as he often did when violence was looming inevitably. "On the spot? Unbelievable..."
Burke smirked. "And you must be Reynolds." It read like an accusation. "Nicky— ah, Nicole said you'd be a little sore. Listen, we don't know each other, but—"
Clerk looked at the group gathered in his office and shook his head, effortless brandishing a pistol from within his desk. "Everyone needs to shut the hell up. Now. This Abbott and Costello routine's getting real old and I know Rogers sent at least one of you."
Neal raised his hands immediately, eyes wide. He inched in Veronica's direction, coincidentally away from the gun.
Peter turned, eyes suddenly dark with purpose. Any affectation immediately fell away and he spoke very slowly and carefully. "Clerk, it's over. You're surrounded. There's a dozen FBI agents waiting to take you down. Don't do anything you'll regret," he warned, but it wasn't just posturing. He could see the gun wasn't even loaded and advanced, smacking the pistol hand aside and putting Clerk in a hold against the wall.
Sheridan, for her own part, was backing away with some intention of trying to slip out, but Veronica was between her an the door and she didn't think Reynolds would be much help here, so it was clear she was getting desperate.
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“Plenty of time for all that ahead of you,” Peter told him cheerfully, handcuffing the man.
Veronica, for her part, made eye contact with Sheridan and opened the door as if to let her go.
The woman was greeted by the barrel of Jones’ gun and his gruff command, “Hands in the air!” Sheridan, whatever she was, wasn’t stupid, and she quietly complied until Jones helped her into a pair of cuffs. Jones and a few members of the ops team took care of escorting the pair out just in time for the last bell, and the rest stayed behind in the IT office to secure and collect evidence.
Veronica, Neal, and Peter reconvened on the lawn amidst the students, who were substantially less-subdued than normal, laughing, gossiping loudly, and pointing at the spectacle of a supposed professor and IT guy being led away.
Peter smiled at the pair, but it was with a measured approval. Clearly, he wasn’t entirely happy with how events had gone down, but glad all were safe and another pair of criminals would soon be behind bars. “Why don’t you two go home and get some rest? I’ll see you both tomorrow at ten, my office, for the debrief.” He squeezed Neal’s shoulder as he passed, then headed off to join the FBI fun.
“You okay?” Veronica asked Neal. He was unharmed, but visibly pale and less… well, less Neal than normal. Veronica felt the exact opposite of how Neal looked - she was exhilarated by the events, her cheeks flushed and high with color. She’d had a gun pointed at her before, but the thrill of escaping with her life was a rush that never went away. She didn’t relish another opportunity, but she couldn’t deny how alive she felt.
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