Chapter 3

There were good sides to going undercover. It made you think in new ways, gave you insight into the experience of a criminal going under a new alias.

But there were also hassles, and one of Peter's least favorites was parting with his wedding ring. He'd thought ahead, selecting something plain with no names or dates inscribed. That meant he could usually keep wearing his ring undercover when other agents had to remove theirs. But Philip Townsend wasn't married, and Roland Villiers might know that.

After his meeting with Hughes, Peter had packed, ate an early lunch with his wife, and left his wedding ring in her keeping before catching a flight to Chicago. Coach, of course. With the inevitable kid in the row behind kicking at his seat. How did those wannabe soccer players always find him?

Throughout the flight he constantly reminded himself not to feel for his wedding band. He didn't normally fiddle with it, but when the band was missing his thumb kept rubbing against his ring finger to check for the piece of jewelry that seemed like a part of him after four years of marriage. But if he kept rubbing, he'd wipe away the makeup that El had helped apply to obscure the tan line on his finger.

In the Chicago office he got the latest intel on Villiers. The good news is I've been too distracted to notice my ring is missing.

But the bad news was that Villiers was either unhinged or doing a good job of acting like it. After the first time the FBI questioned him, the man reportedly went on a rampage. At least two of his former associates had never been seen again. Another had relocated to California. Now Villiers periodically accused his partners of being out to get him. The last agent to interrogate the man had been stalked for five months before requesting a transfer to another city.

No wonder they were happy to welcome an agent from New York for this assignment. Normally Peter would have expected jealousy and annoyance from the local agents who wanted to take down the criminal they had identified and investigated, but not here. These agents wanted to take Peter out to dinner. They also warned him that wearing a wire was not going to work; Villiers would check for wires. They recommended a basic recording device and GPS tracker, which they were thrilled to lend him.

Unfortunately, Villiers' distrust of his associates hadn't inhibited his ability to plan and get away with crimes. He was still a genius in that area.

It made Peter miss chasing the criminal code-named James Bonds. That kid had been in Europe for the last month. Peter got the occasional update from Interpol, but he had to focus on crimes nearer to home. Like Villiers, Caffrey had a genius for crime. But Caffrey was young, and probably less worried about being caught. Peter might be thirty-seven now, but he could remember that feeling of immortality in his early twenties when he thought he was going to take the world of major league baseball by storm.

He wondered sometimes if Caffrey had ever played baseball. Peter had done a lot of research, and had never come across any information about Caffrey's childhood. Not that Peter needed to know about a criminal's childhood to catch him. But most criminals had obvious motives, like greed or revenge. Caffrey was much more complex, making Peter wonder: what drove someone with his talents and intelligence into a life of crime? How had he gotten to be so good at committing crimes at such a young age, and why had no one put a stop to it?

His latest theory was that Caffrey had grown up in foster care. No consistent role models to keep the kid on the straight and narrow or to catch the signs of getting involved with the wrong crowd. Likely moving frequently from one home to the next, honing the skill to re-invent himself to suit his situation.

He wondered what Caffrey would evolve into ten years from now. Would he keep his apparent distaste for guns and violence? Or would he fall under the influence of someone like Villiers?

A few months ago, El had inspired an idea Peter thought of as the Caffrey Conversation. It referred to his wish to talk to the kid, to hear Caffrey's perspective on why he was a criminal, and ideally to discover the key to reforming him. Peter knew that his fellow agents would laugh at the idea of turning Caffrey into one of the good guys. But El got it. She said it proved that justice was blind but not heartless.

Justice was also cheap. Or at least the FBI's brand of justice was on a budget. The flight to St. Louis this morning had been coach again, the rental car a little too cramped for a man over six-feet tall, and last night's hotel... Well, it had walls, a bed, and a TV that came with a sports channel. If the towels were dingy, the sheets scratchy, and the carpet stained, so be it. True, he wished the walls had a bit more sound proofing. Or that the restaurant served eggs that were still warm. But he wasn't here on vacation. He would cowboy up and do the job he'd been sent here to do.