Chapter Text
Step 1:
Break into the Bureau, find his desk, leave flowers and a card introducing yourself, slip away without getting caught
“Are you actually insane?”
“Moz! It’ll be fine! They have no clue what I look like. I’ve been careful.”
“Yeah, so far, but as soon as you walk in those doors, you will officially be in the FBI’s files, on a dozen lists, and probably bugged to Christmas and back. Do not go near that building."
Neal shifted the ridiculously oversized package in his arms awkwardly.
“Oh no, no, no, no, tell me you didn’t.”
“Okay, I didn’t.”
“You did! And now you're calling me! Lose this phone immediately! I'll bring you a new one next week.”
“I mean… Technically, I haven't gone in yet.”
“No, I’m done with this conversation. You’ve officially lost it, and I need to refresh my zen. Again.”
Neal smiled. “See you on Wednesday, Moz!”
“No you absolutely will not. Not until Friday at least, mon frere.” So Wednesday #2 was still undergoing “refurbishment” and Mozzie would be staying at Friday #3 instead.
“Bye Moz.”
“If you need a distraction you know the code phrase,” came just before a definitive click signaled an end to Neal’s short phone conversation. And that was as good a goodbye he was going to get today with how strongly Mozzie felt about his latest con.
Shaking off his bemusement and plastering giddy exuberance all over his face instead, Neal hefted the enormous vase of flowers, all carefully chosen and arranged to symbolize smug victory, heartfelt greetings, and new friendship. Special Agent Peter Burke probably wouldn’t get their subtler meanings, nor appreciate the time and effort that went into crafting such a tastefully gaudy arrangement, but Neal knew even he couldn't miss the meaning of the hand painted greeting card.
This was going to be his greatest con yet.
—
Neal pushed the big glass doors open with just the right mixture of excitement and nervousness to catch the front desk secretary by surprise. The lady stood behind the counter to peer over the flowers at him and asked, obviously trying not to laugh, “Who’s the lucky lady?”
Neal smiled, big and toothy, like a kid, “They’re for Agent Peter Burke, miss! It’s a thank you gift from my mom for saving her grandmother’s jewelry, only she was too embarrassed to come give it herself.”
“Oh well that's nice of her,” the secretary indulged.
It only took a minute or two and a couple exclamations of “He was so cool!” to charm her into letting Neal deliver them himself.
Soon he was on the 21st floor, avoiding people and cameras with practiced ease. It was lunchtime and only a couple agents remained, mostly busy at their desks. Neal had watched Burke leave himself before calling Mozzie to let him know the plan was a go.
He was in and out of Agent Burke’s office, one vase and one postcard lighter in 30 seconds. The bureau should really invest in better security. Those flowers could be poisonous, or have a bomb in them or something. He could have even snooped through his own file, seen what the FBI knew about him, or thought they knew at least.
But he had to stay focused. This was a simple job. Straightforward. Only meant to show off and taunt.
Because if everything went to plan, by the end of it, Agent Burke wouldn’t even want to chase him anymore.