Peter gave a groggy yawn as he unlocked his sleek black car, dropping the case file in the passenger seat as he slid in behind the wheel. He smiled slightly at the manilla folder. Neal is gonna love this one, he thought as he let out another yawn. He rolled his neck from side to side, cracking the stiff joints.

His coffee machine was on the fritz, and, in his opinion, a morning without caffeine was worse than being shot at. Not that he got shot at too often. Life in the white collar crime division was rarely so exciting. He sighed. Perhaps he could score his morning cup of joe at the office, so long as the machine there was in a forgiving mood. But before he could even think of coffee, he had to go pick up his favorite convict.

Peter pulled the car into a parking spot in front of the tall red brick building Neal called home. The fact that he found an open parking space in New York was a miracle in itself. Perhaps his day was looking up. He walked up to the front door, his arm aching as he rose it to knock. Moments later, the door swung open to reveal a smiling Neal, who looked as perky as ever. Peter wondered if Neal was always so upbeat, or if he just enjoyed conning people into thinking he was.

"Morning, Peter," Neal said chipperly, "though by your expression I'm assuming you aren't having a very good one."

"No coffee," Peter replied flatly.

"Ah," Neal said with a nod, "In that case, would you like to come in? June made some this morning. She got the beans for it imported from-"

"No thanks. While the offer is extremely tempting, we've got to get down to the bureau. A new case popped up a few hours ago, and it's right up your alley."

"Sounds fun," Neal replied with a smirk, "What's the case?"

Peter turned and the two men started walking toward the car.

"The authenticator of the Museum of the City of New York flagged a painting that was on loan to them as being a forgery."

"Okay," replied Neal as he slid gracefully into the passenger side of the car, "but that seems a pretty run-of-the-mill case for us. How is this one any different?"

"Because the painting was authenticated before being sent to New York. Meaning someone switched out the real one for a fake between then and when the authenticator got it a few hours ago."

"I'm still not getting how this is supposed to be something special."

Peter smiled. "It's special because there's no way the painting could have been switched."

Neal finally seemed interested. "Are you sure it wasn't possible? Because I've seen plenty of 'impossible' heists work out in the end."

Peter glared at him.

"None of them were mine!" Neal said defensively. Peter sighed and let the comment slide.

"The heist was impossible because the painting was in an air-tight container that was protected by a biometric lock which would only respond to the museum owner or the painting's owner, and on top of that, the painting was under constant armed guard as it was shipped here."

Neal knitted his bow. "Mind if I ask what painting needed such a high level of security?"

"It was a Raphael- 'The Small Cowper Madonna'"

Neal paled. "It's impressive enough that somebody stole a Raphael, that was under armed guard none the less, but the Small Cowper Madonna?!"

"Told 'ya you'd like this one," Peter said with a grin.

***

Once they were at the office, Neal's mind began to race. How could someone steal such a famous painting? And from under the noses of armed guards, at that! Neal smirked. For someone to pull off a job like this, they'd have to be as good as him. That could narrow down the suspect list. It had to be someone he didn't know. The only person he knew who could've pulled it off was Keller, and he and Peter had put him behind bars about a month ago. Even if Keller had planned out the theft, he couldn't act it out from prison. Neal smiled. It was good to have that bastard behind bars where he couldn't hurt anyone-

"HE WHAT?!"

Neal's head spun around toward the source of the shout. Peter was standing near his office door, phone held to his ear and half the bureau starring at him.

"I don't care how it happened." Peter barked into the receiver, "just find him!" Peter hung up his phone angrily and took a deep breath. He looked up at the agents who were already staring back at him.

"Listen up everybody. This division just went on high alert." Peter scanned the room, stopping to make eye contact with Neal.

"Sometime last night, Keller escaped from prison."