Fanfiction: A Pack of Lies (Part 1/8)
Title: A Pack of Lies
Author: runenklinge
Artist: petr_slavik
Genre: Crime
Characters: James Jesse, Neil Caffrey, Peter Burke, Hartley Rathaway, Mozzie, Diana Berrigan, Clinton Jones, Elizabeth Burke, Peter Hernandez, Sandra Kilgour; mentions of past Rogues
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 27k +
Warnings: mentions of past canon character death, character death
A/N: as you may or may not have guessed, this is a White Collar AU, just with more James Jesse. I want to thank petr_slavik for her terrific art, and kidezt for her wonderful management and handling of all things. I could not have done this without her.
Summary:
A new crime spree calls New York's White Collar unit to the task. But since the crimes bear the mark of the famous master criminal, the Trickster, the FBI decides to send in their expert on all things Trickster: Special Agent James Jesse. What follows are questions, doubts, more crime and a lot of lies.
This is my RoguesBang entry, check out more awesome entries there
Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 I
Alternate at AO3: here
You have to check out the beautiful art hoples made for me
Art Link: LJ
Prologue
The museum was quiet at night. The security guard at the camera hub, David Singer, sipped from his coffee while watching the monitors intently. While it was unlikely that something was going to happen - the Lammoglia Gallery had not been stolen from since one spectacular incident in the 30s, unless you counted someone stealing pens from the gift shop - he paid close attention. A new exhibit about Russian monarchy had opened a few days ago, displaying furniture, portraits and personal belongings of the royal family of old. The center of attention was a pearl necklace, a gift from the tzar to his wife on account of their anniversary. It was a magnificent piece of work with shining white pearls, a golden intricate clasp and in the middle, a red ruby, like a drop of blood in the snow. But David didn't have to worry about this one, the necklace was protected by a net of lasers, movement sensors and a guard walking past the exhibit hall every five minutes. Not to mention the cameras pointed at the exhibit itself through which he was watching it, the resolution almost high enough so he could read the note in front of it, written in cursive and blue. On another monitor, he saw the night guard walk into the room, shining his flashlight. Apparently everything was in order as the man left shortly afterward. David leaned back, thinking that tonight would be like any ordinary night.
Then, his cellphone buzzed. He glanced at the display - it announced a call from “Work: Mike's Cell”, a guard who didn't have shift today. He hoped that this wasn't a call about swapping shifts again because of some “hot date, I should show you a picture, she's fine, dude”, but his hopes weren't very high. “I sincerely hope you did not call me to trade shifts. If you did, please save us the work and hang up now.”
“Dude, no, I'm at the entrance, let me in, I forgot my keys in the locker.”
“You don't have shift today.”
“Why would I be here if I hadn't? I traded with the new guy, apparently I owed him or some bullshit. All because I flirted with the girl he had his eyes on...And I'm in front of a closed door without my keys, so let me in and let me punch my card, I'm already an hour late, they're gonna fire me.”
“Maybe I should leave you out there.”
There was a heavy sigh then a grunt on the line, then it sounded as if he swapped hands, fabric rustling.
“Come on, you can't do this to me, man, we're pals. I pay you back, I promise.”
Although David doubted that that would ever happen, the weather forecast for hell would show a drop in temperature and chance of snowfall first, he got up. The one minute walk to the door wouldn't cause any harm.
A shadow descended upside-down from the ceiling, a black figure with unearthly grace. The rope on which the figure hung was impossibly thin, almost as if wasn't there at all. Its hands went to its thigh, unsheathing something from a holster there. It looked a bit like a pair of compasses with a glinting tip. Trying to lift up or move the case would trigger the alarm. But the figure did no such thing, it cut a hole in the glass with the device, and then put the device back in its holster, and stored the glass cutout in its belt. The shadow's eyes glinted green as it twisted to the right to avoid a laser and then quickly grabbed the necklace, like a snake snapping forward to grip its prey. Immediately after that, the shadow righted itself and climbed up the thin rope. The end was attached to a glass window in the ceiling. As soon as the shadow had reached the edge and pulled itself up, it took the glass disc cutout, waited for a second and then dropped it. The sound the landing had made was negligible, but it had touched a laser on it s way down, and the alarms shrieked! A red light bathed the room in a creepy glow and footsteps were thundering down the hall on their way to the scene of the crime. The guards were shouting a mishmash of “Freeze!”, “Surrender” and “Get him!” but they were yelling at an empty room. The shadow was gone, and with it all traces of there ever having been someone there. The shrill cacophony drowned out the words of the guards spoken to one another, questions of why and how and what. Sirens sounded from outside, the police already on their way.
David had spotted Mike at the frosted door to the left of the grand entrance doors. He pulled his set of keys from his belt, planning a rant at Mike in his head, when the alarm sounded. Briefly conflicted whether he should give chase now or open the door first, he decided to spare the two seconds to get extra help inside. But when he wrenched the door open, there was no Mike. He couldn't have gone, what was going on? That was when he spotted the silhouette of a man, taped to the door.
When the police arrived, they took notes, photos, interviewed all guards and then stared puzzled at the room with the empty glass case.
“CSI's on their way, I want this whole room dusted for prints, I want them to find every little scrap of DNA in here.” the officer in charge yelled.
“But sir, this is a public museum, over a hundred people were here today, not to mention the last week or so. Besides, do you think that the thief left any evidence here?”
“The thief can't be that good, he did trigger the alarm. Every perp leaves something behind, and if it's just an eyelash, I want it found!”
“Yes, sir!” The other police men saluted and then made way for the arriving CSI team, already geared up, clad in their white hazmat coveralls and blue masks. The officer repeated his order, and when he was gone, ranting furiously at some poor rookie cop, the chief of the team rolled his eyes and motioned for his men to get to work. After he had worked for a few minutes, he paused. He put down the camera he had been using to document the crime scene. Gingerly, he lifted the glass disc and dusted for prints, and as he had suspected, there were none. Then he put it in an evidence bag, labeled it and stepped outside for a cigarette. It was then that he saw the taped silhouette - cardboard cutout, and he could swear that it was mocking him. He took a step back, murmured a “I'll be damned” and reached for his cell.
“Get me Agent Jesse on the line, now!”
In Chicago, a phone buzzed in an office building. There were only three people left on the floor the telephone rang. The taller of the men stretched at his desk and then picked up the phone. Just what he had needed, another case, after they had already busted their chops with this real estate fraud case. It was 8 pm here, and he had been close to just calling it a night and leave his boss and co-worker to fend for themselves. Or take his co-worker Sandra and leave the boss to fend for himself.
“Please be a wrong number” he thought as he picked up the receiver. “Federal Bureau of Investigation, Chicago bureau, this is Agent Hernandez speaking.”
Then he instantly held the receiver away from his ear as someone started shouting and demanding to speak to Agent Jesse this instant, and then followed a threat to Peter Hernandez' physical integrity and well-being, and then an insult to his mother. Peter grimaced.
“Boss, call for you, and the caller is not at all happy.”
“If it's my father-in-law again-”
“No, it's the police. New York, and they say it's urgent.”
“Fine, I'll take it in my office. God, it's that late? Why didn't you say something? Sandra, Peter, go home already. And tomorrow, breakfast and lunch is on me. I'll finish up here.”
Peter transferred the call to the boss' office, and gathered up his things. Sandra was waiting for him by the elevator. “I can't wait to get home and fall in bed already.”
“How romantic.”
“Come on, as if you have something different in mind. How are things going with what's-her-name?”
“Louise.”
“Yes, Louise, right.”
The elevator arrived on their floor, they stepped in and pressed the button for the underground parking lot.
“We're doing fine. Her exams are next week and she's going a little bit crazy right now. She even made a countdown, only 242 hours until I'm a lawyer, only 241 hours until I'm a lawyer, that kind of thing.”
“She knows it's going to take a lot longer until she gets her results back, doesn't she?”
“I certainly hope she does.”
They both grinned. The elevator was almost at their stop.
“That reminds me,” Sandra said, “Terry and I are going to have a barbecue next weekend, do you and Lily want to come?”
“Louise.”
“Yes, sorry, right.”
“Sure, I'd love to, I'll ask her first if she has plans, but I'm sure we can make it.”
“Great, the kids just love you, you know?
“Are you trying to trick me into babysitting in the future?”
“Maybe.”
The elevator announced their arrival with a cheery “ding” and they went out and to their respective cars.
“Good night, Sandra.”
“Night, Pete.”
While both of them drove to their respective homes, their boss had a long talk with the police.
At the end, he agreed to take a plane to New York.
After the conversation had ended, he grinned. Then he took a cellphone from his jacket, dialed a number and started to make arrangements. “Hi, it's me, and I need you to do a few things for me....”
-> next part