Chapter Text
Neal feels numb—not scared or angry or vengeful—just completely numb as if his brain can’t process what his eyes saw on the Teterboro tarmac. Kate was gone, and it wasn’t a dream. Instead, it was a very real nightmare. Perhaps our poor Neal would have become the target of some very nasty criminals who took exception to the fact that he had crossed over to the dark side and had been working for the Feds as a confidential informant for over a year. That merited some harsh prison-type justice because of a criminal code with rather twisted ethics. However, even the worst of the brutal fraternity incarcerated within the prison walls kept their distance because Neal was acting strangely. It was like he was a holograph with very little substance, never displaying any hint of emotion. He should have been scared out of his mind, but, instead, he shuffled along as if he was in his own fog of obscurity. That was perplexing to the shadows who kept an eye on him. They had seen this strange phenomenon before. Weirded out psychos like serial killers or demented sociopaths walked around in a sort of calm stasis until a switch was flipped in their brain and they went batshit crazy and wreaked their own havoc. Maybe it was better to tread lightly for a bit until they figured him out.
Neal was aware of what went on around him even if he didn’t show it. The reason for his apathy was that, at this point in time, he really didn’t care what happened to him or anybody else. Screw the FBI and their ridiculous “Mentor” project. Screw Garrett Fowler and even Peter Burke. Neal was so done with being a stooge manipulated by evil people with an agenda. If he died tomorrow, it would put an end to his torment. So, when he caught sight of John Casey in the cafeteria line, he couldn’t summon any fearful curiosity. It was what it was, or whatever it turned out to be. Even when Casey somehow managed to saunter into Neal’s cell late that night like Marley’s ghost after the mandated lights out, Neal didn’t get nervous. He merely asked in a calm voice, “I guess you’re here to take care of unfinished business.”
Casey snorted, “I’m actually here on some new business, Caffrey.”
“Does that include strangling me with those big mitts of yours,” Neal snarked. “Just so you know, I don’t really care; I’m just asking for a friend.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Casey snarled. “I’ve been embedded into this hell hole because I’m on a mission.”
“Really? Do tell,” Neal mocked.
Casey heaved a sigh. “As much as it pains me to say it, I’m here to recruit you.”
“Recruit me?” Neal thought he had heard wrong.
“Yeah, Moron, the CIA wants you as an operative,” the big man growled, “and I’m here to persuade you that it’s in your best interest to be receptive to the idea.”
“Why do the creepy spooks you work for want me when they already have a replica of yours truly in the form of Bryce Larkin,” Neal asked wearily.
“Bryce Larkin is dead,” Casey said flatly.
Neal jerked his head up in shock. “Did you kill him?”
“Don’t act stupid, Caffrey,” Casey said sarcastically. “Larkin got himself dead at the hands of an evil cabal that wants to take over the world. Its members are in deep cover lurking within the ranks of our own government.”
“Well, color me surprised that the government is twisted. I’ve had firsthand experience with their treachery—even got the orange jumpsuit and matching t-shirt to prove it,” Neal replied in a bitter tone. Although he didn’t let Casey see it, the news of Bryce Larkin’s death had shaken the con man more than he was willing to admit. It was like a part of himself had died as well.
Casey eyed the young prisoner. “Look, Dude, I’ve been briefed on your situation. I know what was promised to you and I know what actually happened. With the CIA’s assistance, we can help you find justice for your girlfriend’s murder,” the NSA agent dangled the bait.
“I’m picturing that scenario to be a lot like that old movie, Mighty Joe Young versus Godzilla,” Neal sniped. “The DOJ versus the CIA—two behemoth monsters going at it to prove their superiority. Do you really think I want to be collateral damage in that dust-up?”
For once, Casey seemed to get to the heart of a situation. “Look, Caffrey, I’ve been where you are right now. Not many people know this, so count yourself lucky. I lost a woman—my woman—whom I deeply loved when a hotel in Europe was bombed by terror mongers who made her a victim. It rips your heart out, but eventually you get on with things, specifically, things like finding the people responsible. I can help you with that.”
“I know the lynchpin is a man named Garrett Fowler, and confronting him may be a bit hard to do from where I’m presently sitting,” Neal retorted.
Casey finally stopped looming and sat down beside Neal on his bunk. “The Agency’s plugged in, so we know Peter Burke has been calling in favors all over the place to get you back as his CI. So far, he’s hitting a brick wall with the Department of Justice, but we can grease the wheels so that it happens. And as for OPR Agent Fowler, don’t waste your time with that clown. He was just being manipulated like you. He’s not the real puppet master working behind the scenes.”
“If not him, then tell me who is!” Neal demanded as he crowded Casey’s space.
The big spy shrugged. “Not sure yet, but we’re working on it because we suspect it’s part of a bigger picture. And if you want to be part of the team to take down Kate Moreau’s murderer, then you’ll have to get on board.”
“This whole magnanimous offer makes no sense to me,” Neal finally admitted. “Doesn’t your little band of mischief makers have your playhouse out in California? How are you going to get me paroled out of state?”
Casey rolled his eyes. “Think bigger picture, Doofus! We have centers of operation in every major United States city, and the entire world is our playing field. Nevertheless, even though you’re going to be a bit hobbled, you can still accomplish a lot for us right here in the Big Apple.”
Neal narrowed his eyes. “If I do this, will Peter Burke be made aware of my divided loyalties?” he wanted clarification.
“It’s on a need to know basis, and your FBI handler doesn’t need to know,” Casey answered smugly.
“I seem to have heard that hogwash a number of times in my past dealings with you spy people,” Neal replied cynically. “Just out of idle curiosity, if I agree, how are you planning on keeping tabs on me? Do you plan to piggyback onto the Marshals feed of my anklet tracker?”
“That tech stuff falls into your old pal, Chuck’s, domain. I’m sure he’ll come up with some clever way to hack it,” Neal’s recruiter shrugged. “Look, Buddy, I’ve got to get back to my little cubby hole to get some shut eye. A few menacing thugs decked out with tattoos were eyeballing me today just itching for the opportunity to put me in my place in this prison’s pecking order. I have to be ready to break a few heads tomorrow.”
“Maybe you could bond with them while you’re admiring each other’s ink,” Neal smirked. “I’m sure you’ve got an American flag tattooed somewhere on your body.”
“Actually, it’s Semper Fidelis on my delt, Numbnuts. And, just so you know, my rank is now a colonel in the Marine Corps,” Casey said proudly.
“Wow! A man who can multitask,” Neal snickered. “Although I’m awed to be in your company, I still need some things made a little clearer,” the sardonic con man said firmly. “First, with Bryce gone, did Chuck finally get the girl?”
Casey had stood and was moving towards the corridor when Neal’s words stopped him. “Not that I can see. Walker seems a little fickle to me. Now she seems bedazzled by another pretty boy agent named Daniel Shaw. Personally, I don’t trust him, but that’s just my take on the situation.”
Neal was thoughtful, wondering just how perceptive John Casey might be. Neal wasn’t sold on working with Bryce’s old girlfriend. And he definitely didn’t want to play “Dear Abby” to Chuck, dispensing advice on how to win the girl. Actually, Neal wasn’t sure who he would be working with if he agreed to become a spy. “Are you going to be my handler, Casey, because if you are, I’m not sure how secure that makes me feel.”
“We haven’t clarified all the boots on the ground arrangements yet,” Casey admitted. “You’re the wild card until you get your pretty ass off the fence.”
Neal was still turning this offer over in his mind. If he did decide to do this thing with the CIA, he would have some freedom to find Kate’s killer, with or without their help. It was a better option than sitting here waiting for some inmates with a grudge to come at him with a shiv. But, if he did go for broke and crawled out on this limb, then there had to be ground rules starting right now. He stood up and got squarely in Casey’s face. “If I agree to this ridiculous travesty, you’ll need to remember that I am not patient and forgiving like Chuck. I insist that you never again address me in a snide, deprecating manner. I’m not tolerant of bullying by you or anyone else.”
“Those are tough words for someone in your situation,” Casey mocked before relenting, “but I guess I can respect someone with brass balls. We’ll talk again tomorrow after I teach a few yahoos a lesson before breakfast.” Then the big guy slowly meandered away as the door to Neal’s cell magically slid shut with a clang.
~~~~~~~~~~
It seemed like some kind of magic trick as well when, without explanation, Neal was back on the streets at Peter’s side with a new anklet in place. Peter seemed a bit uncomfortable at first, not quite sure if he should display sympathy for his friend’s tragic loss, or gruffly demand that his CI cowboy up. So, their relationship vacillated with Peter treating Neal like he was made out of fragile glass, and then acting like the past month had never happened. Neal just endured the emotional roller coaster, and with Mozzie’s help, began his own investigation into Kate’s death. He had to juggle that task with a new one. Casey had come calling on the second night that Neal had returned to June’s home. The formidable NSA agent strolled in with a confident air and a Chromebook in his hand that he unceremoniously plunked down on Neal’s dining table.
“What?” Neal mocked. “This is what I get with my membership into the good old boys club? I was expecting at least a spy decoder ring.”
“If you’re good, I might teach you our secret handshake,” Casey huffed. “Now get serious, Caffrey, because I’m about to brief you on our organization’s hierarchy, and when you meet the boss lady, you’ll see she doesn’t tolerate insolence. This laptop is your gateway to liaison with the top of the heap. You’ll be running with the big dogs in the pack now, not just a wimpy geek like Chuck.”
Neal watched as Casey took a seat at the table and powered up the Chromebook. The screen held an array of the usual icons for email, weather, Word, and an extraneous one of an eagle with its wings spread wide. Casey then moved aside and gestured for Neal to take his seat in front of the electronic equipment. “Click on the eagle and enter this long series of letters and numbers,” he instructed as he handed Neal a slip of paper. “Memorize the password,” he told Neal gruffly, “and when the next screen opens, stare into the portal so that the camera can capture your retinal scan.”
“Oooh, so cloak and dagger,” Neal snarked, but did as he was instructed before glancing up at Casey. “If I accidently tell anybody the password, does that mean I have to kill them?”
“No, it means that you will be signing your own death warrant,” a stern voice was suddenly emanating from the laptop. Neal whipped his head around to see a small older woman scowling at him over her wirerimmed granny glasses. She was attired in a military uniform with the left side of her chest wallpapered with medals and insignias of various colors.
“General Beckman, the eagle has landed,” Casey said respectfully. “This is Neal Caffrey.”
The woman on the screen did not look impressed. “Colonel, that expression is generally taken to mean that a mission has been successfully accomplished. That remains to be seen with this one. He’ll have to prove himself before I place any confidence in him.”
“General, begging your pardon, but I can whip Caffrey into shape,” the NSA man said confidently.
Neal’s head was swiveling back and forth. “Um, my mama told me it was impolite to talk about a person when they’re right here in the same room. Maybe a little more decorum should be the order of the day. And just so you know, absolutely no whipping will be tolerated by this new probie agent!”
“Probie …” the General let the word slide slowly off her tongue. “Interesting choice of words, perhaps the result of the FBI’s influence. But I can assure you, Mr. Caffrey, you’re playing in the big leagues now, not like the Bureau which is hampered by the letter of the law as well as riddled with deceit.”
“Well, I won’t argue that point with you,” Neal conceded.
“Good, because it wouldn’t be in your best interest to argue anything with me. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” General Beckman demanded.
“Crystal,” Neal replied without the least bit of deference.
“Since you are a new recruit, normally you’d be sent to our training facility in Prague,” Beckman continued. “However, I’ve seen footage of you parkouring through buildings, ziplining across rivers, and daredevil base jumping into canyons, so perhaps any further training would be redundant.”
“You seem to be privy to a lot, so just how much do you know?” Neal asked with raised eyebrows.
“Oh, Mr. Caffrey, we’ve had eyes on you for a very long time,” the General said with a mysterious little smile.
“That’s beyond creepy,” Neal huffed. “So, then you also must know that I don’t like guns and I’m not going to be killing anybody for God and country during any secret mission.”
“You’ll have Casey for that,” Neal was blithely informed, causing the con man to staunch a shiver. “So, is this big ignoramus standing behind me going to be my CIA handler?”
The General nodded. “For the foreseeable future, yes. Sarah Walker is presently tied up in Europe, but Chuck Bartowski will be joining you after his flight touches down at JFK tomorrow. He can assist you in your first mission.”
“About my ‘mission,’ General,” Neal managed to get in a word. “My other legitimate handler already has me busy trying to take down a swaggering buffoon who robs banks just for the thrill of it. He’s been yanking Peter Burke’s chain, so it’s sort of a priority right now.”
The military woman frowned. “Unless I’ve been misinformed, Mr. Caffrey, you can certainly walk and chew gum at the same time. Now that we’ve established that you can multitask, we need you to gain entrance into a certain foreign consulate. That should feel like a bit of déjà vu for you. Didn’t you break into the Italian consulate just a few months ago to get your hands on an amber music box?”
“I guess you know that I did,” Neal conceded, realizing there was no point in denying it?
Beckman quirked an eyebrow and continued with the briefing. “Well, this time it’s a Latin American consulate. A despot from a puppet dictatorship is currently sitting at the United Nations spouting off rhetoric about instituting a form of democracy in his oppressed country. What he’s really doing in New York is meeting an arms dealer who will supply him with a means to keep his country under his thumb so no free elections can take place. We need to find out his supplier and interrupt the arms deal so that a peaceful transfer of power can commence.”
“I thought my missions were supposed to get me a bit closer to finding out a friend’s killer, not maintain the status quo in the world for the CIA’s benefit,” Neal replied boldly.
“That’s still a work in progress and shouldn’t be your prime focus right now,” Beckman said firmly. “Starting tonight and moving forward, you need to start impressing me with the assignments I give you. When you prove that you are a valuable asset, maybe then I’ll share other details.” Without warning, the General’s image flashed off the screen and was replaced by a picture of fluffy kittens playfully rolling a ball of yarn.
“She can be a real ballbuster,” Casey smirked.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Neal agreed.
Casey was preparing to make an exit when Peter Burke opened Neal’s door without knocking.