White collar

The one where Mozzie goes FBI

Peter couldn’t figure out was why Neal needed a forger, because Neal could easily make his own passport, right?

“The girl- she, she said it wasn’t good enough.” He said, pointing at one of the passport’s pages. Peter frowned and took the passport. The only dilemma Peter had right now was that he law by was obligated to report this, but if he did, the whole bureau would know that Neal was in fact alive- and they would hunt him down, and when they found him he would go to prison. Peter wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told Diana or Ellie yet. Maybe it was because Peter really didn’t want Neal behind prison bars.

“Did they tell you where they were going?” Peter asked, looking at the passport.

“To England. The young man though, he looked a little out of it, he sat by that chair,” the man pointed at the chair and table by the end of the room. Peter immediately sat down in the chair, looking for clues like the last time Neal had went missing. Peter brushed his fingers under the chair and table- nothing. Peter went down on his knees and suddenly, he noticed a note that was scribbled with a marker under the table.

Mozz, The King John’s lost treasure.

Peter didn’t understand as he rose from the floor. And somehow Mozzie came into the room, perfect timing.

“Mozzie, what does this mean?” Peter asked as he pointed at the note under the table. Mozzie walked over to the table and as he read the message his face turned tense.

“Oh no.”

“’Oh no’ what?”

“It’s the King John’s treasure.”

“Mozzie, speak English please.” Mozzie looked up at the ceiling and then back at Peter.

“The treasure, isn’t really a treasure.” Peter was totally puzzled, he knit his brows.


“I mean, there was this ship in the 1216 century that sunk around The Wash when King John was traveling back home to Newark Castle. There was a huge treasure on that ship, and it’s worth approximately seventy million dollars. Thing is, the treasure has been lost ever since. And the problem with this is; that the treasure has been lost ever since.” Peter walked back to the desk and put down the passport.

“I don’t follow. So all of this- all of this is because of a heist? A con?” Mozzie and Peter knew that Peter knew too much. Peter started to realize what Mozzie was saying. Kate was going to use Neal somehow and pull this huge con where they’d claim that they’ve found the real lost treasure and then probably sell it to a museum for millions of dollars. Kate’s plan was brilliant, until she had planned on kidnapping Neal, because if this wasn’t a kidnapping, then Neal wouldn’t have left the clue for Mozzie to solve.

“Where are you Neal?” Peter asked the silent air.

(two weeks earlier- before Neal’s presumed kidnapping.)

Neal stood by a table holding a 20 dollar bill.

“Can you tell me if it’s a forgery or a real dollar bill?” Neal looked up at the woman with raised brows and then he returned his gaze to the bill. He went to the light and checked for the watermark, which he could barely see, but it was there. On the bottom of the dollar bill, where Andrew Jackson’s coat was, Neal slid his fingernail down the coat and listened to the sound. He brought the dollar bill closer to his ear and slid his fingernail down the painted coat a couple of times. Neal flashed one of his famous superior smiles and then he handed the dollar bill to the woman.

“It’s a fake,” Neal said and the woman looked amused.
“He’s good.” The woman said, studying the dollar bill.
“Oh I know he is, that’s why I brought him here.”


Neal was not having such a great day, his head hurt, his legs ached, and his head throbbed. Let’s just say that Neal could imagine anything more pleasant than whatever he was doing.
“You drugged me Kate. Why would you do that?” She didn’t answer. Neal cracked his eyes open and looked around the small apartment he was stuck in. He laid on something comfortable, which he quickly identified as a bed and he stopped breathing, listening if there was someone else in the room.
But there was something, someone standing in the shadows by a wardrobe, hiding in the darker. He could hear her breathing, and he knew that he wasn’t alone.

“Kate, why are you doing this?” the lights chased away the shadows around her as she stepped forward and Neal looked into her bright eyes.
“I never meant for this to happen Neal. It wasn’t until Alex backed out and told Peter that you were alive that I needed you gone, in safety.”
“Safety? What?” Neal asked as he looked down at his arms that were tied to the bed with a rope.
“Please let me free.” He tried not to think about the issue that Peter knew that he was in fact alive.
“I can’t Neal, I’m sorry.”
“What are you planning on doing Kate? You want me to be trapped inside this room like a bird in a cage?” Kate shook her head sadly.

“Neal, if Peter catches you; you’re going to prison.” Neal collapsed unto the bed. What if Kate had actually tried to protect him?

“So, he knows?” Neal asked, resting his cheek against the bed as he tried to get a glance at Kate.

“Yes”, a crease formed in her forehead as she sunk down unto the bed beside Neal.

“As soon as I took you here, Peter went to Paris. But now when you’re no longer in the same country as him, he doesn’t have any leads.”

“Where’s here Kate?”


“So we’re supposed to pull the con here? Here in England?”

“Yes, where else?” Neal rested his head against the pillow and sighed. Neal was suspicious, what if Kate was just using him in order to get her hands on millions of dollars?
It was so hard.
It was so hard because he loved her.
But what he needed to learn was that there was a great difference between loving a person and an image of a person, an image of a person he had made up in his own head.
Neal was confused, he didn’t know what to do, as in matter of fact, this was the first time in years that Neal was clueless.

Peter ran down the streets, chasing his own shadows.
Peter knew too much and knowing too much in Neal’s case was never good.

Peter reached his hotel and when he was back in his hotel room he sunk down unto his bed and pulled out his phone to do the only reasonable thing right now; he called Ellie.
When the tones faded and was replaced by Elizabeth’s soft voice, Peter smiled.
“Hey hun, how’s work?”
“I’m sorry El, but I have to confess something.”
And then he told her the truth.

Mozzie opened up a bottle of fine wine out of Neal’s wine collection.
It was just annoying to not know where Neal was.
Mozzie wanted to know what Kate had done this time, but as usual nothing good probably.

King John’s lost treasure.
There were similar cons, like The Secret City of Paititi. A lost city filled of gold in the depth of the rainforests of South America.
Conmen, the amateurs of course, usually con tourists by saying that the treasure was recovered in 2008 or similar and then sell small pieces of the “recovered gold” to them.
But what Kate wanted to do was a much greater con.
She wanted to con a museum of millions of dollars.
Mozzie didn’t know exactly how she was going to pull this off, but he had his guesses.
Neal’s a smooth talker for example; she probably wanted him for his charm and expertise.
Kate would probably also use him to get some prototypes done, because let’s face it;
Neal Caffrey was the best art forger in New York, or hell, why not in the world.

“Don’t worry Neal, we’ll find you.”
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