THE OG AU

[conning]

[summary tk]

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[conning]

"I was not, no." The man's tone is as mild and matter-of-fact as ever. "Mr Caffrey, is there a time today we can meet?"

Neal hesitates. He doesn't know when the drop is yet. Where it is. But his instinct when it comes to Interpol is to be as accommodating as he can be without copping to anything.

[abrightboy]

“Mr Caffrey has another commitment today, but I’m read into the situation,” Malcolm tells him, eyes on Neal. “Why don’t I meet you today and if there’s anything I can’t help you with, you can talk to him tomorrow?”

Then Neal would be free for the drop and Interpol would be distracted.

[conning]

Murdoch makes a disappointed noise. "Unfortunate. But that would be most helpful in the mean time, thank you. Where should you like to meet?"

Neal tenses as another call notification pops up. "Excuse me, Detective Murdoch, I've got another call I have to take."

"Oh. Well, all right, but if I could get Mr Bright's number first--"

Neal hangs up and answers the unknown number. "Hello?"

"Good morning Neal," Rebecca says. "Since I'm on speaker, I'm going to assume that Bright is there too. Is Mozzie with you?"

"No."

"Too bad."

[abrightboy]

"Where do you want them to bring the window?" Malcolm asks bluntly. He has no time for Rebecca's games.

[conning]

There’s a pause, and when Rebecca speaks again it’s annoyed. She gives Neal the location, the time, the instructions.

“I’ll be there,” he says softly, and hangs up.

He looks at Malcolm. “I have a bad feeling about this. I know she’s not setting us up, not completely. Whatever she wants she doesn’t have it yet. But I don’t like it.”

[abrightboy]

"Just be careful. Give me Murdoch's number. I'll meet with him so he's not sniffing around you while this is going down," Malcolm tells him.

[conning]

Neal nods uncertainly, pulling up the detective’s number and letting Malcolm copy it before getting up to get ready. His text to Mozzie is brief and cryptic and plenty for the man to figure out what he needs to.

Neal stops in front of Malcolm again, dressed in what, for him, is an incredibly casual outfit. Jeans, rolled up sleeves, no tie. “What do we do about the tracking anklet?”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm presses his lips together.

“I’ll wear it. I’ll meet Murdoch somewhere in your radius, then come back here,” he says, already grabbing his bag to get the supplies he needs to slip Neal out of the anklet.

[conning]

Neal makes a soft, apprehensive sound. “It won’t be hard to verify that I wasn’t there, though.”

[abrightboy]

“They don’t know you’re meeting him. I’ll go to a coffee shop you usually frequent. It won’t look weird for you to be there,” Malcolm points out. “The FBI doesn’t consult Canadians on where their assets are,” he says as though it’s obvious.

[conning]

“You’re right, you are. I’m just being paranoid.” He shakes his head and lets Malcolm deal with the anklet, pausing before he heads toward the door. He brushes his fingertips across Malcolm’s temples. “I love you.”

It’s soft, and he says it with a just-in-case tone that makes his own chest flutter with anxiety.

[abrightboy]

“Be safe,” Malcolm tells him. “And invisible,” he adds. “I love you too.”

Once Neal is well away, Malcolm calls Murdoch back and arranges to meet him at Neal’s favourite coffee shop. He gets there first and orders a mocha, taking a seat against the wall. He assumes the well-studied detective will know what he looks like.

[conning]

Murdoch does.

He’s tall, in a carefully pressed suit that isn’t nearly in the quality range of Malcolm’s own. But it fits him well. He makes sure his suits do. Somehow, though, even in a well-tailored suit in New York City, he manages to be a sore thumb.

He navigates his way through the other people like a cat trying to avoid touching damp walls, pausing at the chair opposite Malcolm with a polite nod. “Mr Bright. May I?”

[abrightboy]

“Please do,” Malcolm tells him with a gesture towards the empty chair. He tilts his head towards the counter. “Can I get you anything?” he asks.

[conning]

He makes a small, dismissive gesture. “No, thank you. I find most places like this in the states don’t have any tea worth the cost of admission.”

There’s no caveat or apology for the statement. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve followed your work for a long time.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm blinks surprise at him.

"You have?"

People have heard of him. Only a certain kind have followed his work.

"Just out of basic police interest?"

[conning]

Murdoch shifts in his seat, leaning forward a fraction with a spark of fascination in his eyes. “Your cases tended to be among the more psychologically interesting. When I saw your name arise continuously in conjunction with the criminals whose behaviors were on the extreme end of the bell curve, I took an interest in you as well.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm huffs a laugh, tilting his head.

"Well, everyone has a specialty." He scans Murdoch's face. "What did you learn about me?"

[conning]

“I’m not concerned about your heritage,” he says bluntly. “If that is the question you’re skirting around.”

[abrightboy]

"You've seen the FBI's files," Malcolm notes. "Or was it something else?"

He's always interested in how much it's Out There, though he's less careful than he used to be.

[conning]

“An associate who owed me a favor had access,” Murdoch confirms. He pauses. “I requested them legally.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm shrugs.

“I’ve been outed for worse reasons than professional curiosity.”

Like professional jealousy.

“What do you want to know?”

[conning]

That professional curiosity lights Murdoch’s face again. “Do you have any familiarity with the name Rachel Turner?”

[abrightboy]

“Does she have something to do with the Hagen guy?” Malcolm asks. “I guess he’d been seen threatening Neal’s landlady, before he saw him in the park, headed over and saw the guy get shot right in front of him.”

[conning]

Murdoch pauses. Something about the unsolicited information strikes him as... he's not sure.

"Vice-versa," Murdoch says, and dips into the tidy leather shoulder bag he set down when he sat. Out comes a tidy file, this one personally assembled. He offers it to Malcolm. "I'm pursuing Hagen's activities with the hope of it leading to her."

Page one of the file is just a full-color, somewhat fuzzy picture of Rebecca. No glasses, shorter hair, her eyes frost cold and dispassionate as she examples a burned corpse on the ground.