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.
There were plenty of thrills that Neal knew he could appreciate: He enjoyed the tension of card tables and race tracks and pool halls; he appreciated the suspense and excitement of the steal, too. But violence didn't sit right with Neal and it never had. Maybe less spectacularly, he still bought into certain codes and cons conning cons was to be expected, but it was no less sobering to see how often that was done at the end of a gun.
"Yeah." He heaved it out as a great sigh, like it was the first time he'd had a chance to breath since he'd last seen Veronica. "Yeah, of course," he reaffirmed, although even he wasn't convinced. "Happens more than you'd think." Neal felt like he was digging himself even deeper, so he turned toward the curb and nodded in that direction; Mars was native enough to New York now that she'd probably recognize the best place to pick up a cab. They could share, mostly because Neal didn't know when his legs wouldn't feel quite like noodles anymore and he didn't want to suffer the embarrassment of Veronica needing to haul him home because he's a bit of a sissy at times.
"That got a bit messy." That bothered him, too. He hadn't been nearly as prepared as he'd needed to be and if it hadn't been for Mozzie's intervention, they might have faced a very different outcome. Beyond that, understanding that Veronica had weighed and accepted the risk hadn't helped much when Peter had danced her right into danger. "But I think Peter was impressed with your work," Neal noted, slowly beginning to right himself. "I'll bet he mentions it tomorrow." He offered her a genuine enough smile as he opened the cab door.
Veronica climbed in. “You’re on. I bet he says the same about you, only after denouncing you as reckless.” That was likely a safe bet as she’d heard some version of the speech at least five times.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, she said, “I don’t think I’ll miss Nicole and Professor Reynolds, but the class was fun. You were a good teacher.” And she wasn’t blowing smoke - he’d been so engaging and studious, if she hadn’t known better, she’d have been fooled. She hoped the students wouldn’t be too disappointed when an actual, credentialed teacher took over the next day.
More than that, though, she wasn’t relishing returning to the law office come Monday. She wasn’t exactly ready to give up all she’d worked fo to rejoin the Feds, though, nor would she ever turn to a life of full-fledged crime. She felt caught between worlds, and she wasn’t sure what to do, though the thought of scouting for PI work was tempting.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"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.
no subject
“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?”
no subject
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.
no subject
“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.
no subject
"Yeah." He heaved it out as a great sigh, like it was the first time he'd had a chance to breath since he'd last seen Veronica. "Yeah, of course," he reaffirmed, although even he wasn't convinced. "Happens more than you'd think." Neal felt like he was digging himself even deeper, so he turned toward the curb and nodded in that direction; Mars was native enough to New York now that she'd probably recognize the best place to pick up a cab. They could share, mostly because Neal didn't know when his legs wouldn't feel quite like noodles anymore and he didn't want to suffer the embarrassment of Veronica needing to haul him home because he's a bit of a sissy at times.
"That got a bit messy." That bothered him, too. He hadn't been nearly as prepared as he'd needed to be and if it hadn't been for Mozzie's intervention, they might have faced a very different outcome. Beyond that, understanding that Veronica had weighed and accepted the risk hadn't helped much when Peter had danced her right into danger. "But I think Peter was impressed with your work," Neal noted, slowly beginning to right himself. "I'll bet he mentions it tomorrow." He offered her a genuine enough smile as he opened the cab door.
no subject
After a few moments of comfortable silence, she said, “I don’t think I’ll miss Nicole and Professor Reynolds, but the class was fun. You were a good teacher.” And she wasn’t blowing smoke - he’d been so engaging and studious, if she hadn’t known better, she’d have been fooled. She hoped the students wouldn’t be too disappointed when an actual, credentialed teacher took over the next day.
More than that, though, she wasn’t relishing returning to the law office come Monday. She wasn’t exactly ready to give up all she’d worked fo to rejoin the Feds, though, nor would she ever turn to a life of full-fledged crime. She felt caught between worlds, and she wasn’t sure what to do, though the thought of scouting for PI work was tempting.