Agent Jones closed the office door gently and winced as he did so. Agent Lauren Cruz looked up from her desk and gave him a knowing smile.
"Boss not happy, eh?"
Jones had just come out from a meeting with Burke and had got the sharp end of his tongue.
"Man, something's eating him today and I tell you, I wouldn't want to be in Caffrey's shoes for one moment! By the way, is he in yet?"
Lauren shook her head, a huge smile spreading across her face.
"Not as yet, one hour late and the clock is still ticking. I hope I'm around when he shows up though!" Her attention was distracted for a moment and then she said "Well, well, speak of the devil, look who's finally decided to put in an appearance!"
Jones followed her gaze and saw Neal just outside the glass doors peering in. Sighing heavily, he
ran quickly down the stairs and went straight over to the doors, pulling one of them sharply open.
Neal tried not to look startled by the Agent's sudden appearance.
"Hi, Jones, is Peter in?" He asked quietly trying to keep out of sight, his eyes scanning furtively around.
"Why yes! Funny thing is, in this office we tend to have a rather silly ritual whereby we all get in at the same time in the morning. Agent Burke is most definitely in and I think he would like to speak with you, if you are not too busy, that is?"
Neal was about to reply to Jones's sarcasm when Peter's strident voice cut in.
"Caffrey! My office, NOW!"
Jones gave Neal a less than sympathetic look and Cruz couldn't hide her smug smile of delight; the great Neal Caffrey was going to be taken down a peg or two.
Peter had seen Neal arrive and had come out onto the upper walkway. He watched as the con man walked through the office and couldn't help being annoyed that Neal still looked like he'd just stepped off the pages of Vogue and onto the runway at New York Fashion Week. He turned away shaking his head as Neal approached, and entering his glass fronted office sat down heavily in his chair.
Neal appeared awkwardly at the door a few moments later and knocked lightly.
"Get in here and close the door!" Peter said authoritatively.
Neal for once did as he was told and stood self-consciously in front of the desk, playing with his fedora and not daring to sit down at this stage.
"Morning Peter…" He said tentatively; his smile not working on the FBI Agent.
Peter fixed him with a hard stare.
"You're an hour late, where the hell have you been? I nearly sent Jones out after you!"
Neal opened his mouth to speak but promptly closed it again as Peter cut across him.
"Do you realise what type of morning I've had so far? Do you even care?"
Neal tried to answer once again but gave up when Peter continued his rant, preferring instead to concentrate on his hat with his eyes averted.
"The power went off at 5am and most of the systems went down. I have been here since 6am and it has taken a mammoth effort from all of the staff to get the office up and running on 50% power. It would have been helpful if ALL members of staff had made it in on time, especially those who don't need to use public transport or take the subway!"
Neal looked well and truly chastened at Peter's outburst so the Agent added "Sit down for heaven's sake; you're making the place look untidy!"
Neal gratefully got a chair and sat down, putting his hat on the desk. He then spoke very quickly with a childlike enthusiasm, making sure he got a word in edgeways.
"I'm sorry, Peter, it won't happen again. It's just that June was really upset this morning and I couldn't leave until I'd spoken to her to find out what was going on. I didn't realise I was running so late and I would have called you but I know how you hate being disturbed at the office and I had hoped I would have been here before now, but you know how time flies when you least want it to."
Burke just looked at him in his irritating, calculating way.
"I did run all the way." Neal added his eyes all wide and innocent.
Burke remained quiet for a moment longer, letting Caffrey stew for a while. It was a few seconds before Burke finally spoke. "That excuse is so lame it has to be the truth." He smiled slightly, adding, "Then again, you, running? Never!"
Neal relaxed.
"It's the truth alright, Peter. I could have come up with a much better story than that, believe me!"
Peter raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"But I would never lie to the FBI, obviously!" Neal added for good measure.
Peter had enjoyed torturing his consultant for the time being, so he brought the conversation back to work matters.
"Okay, enough. What do you know about one Samson Mallory?" He said it nonchalantly but observed Neal's reaction.
Neal remained perfectly calm and showed no signs of recognising the name.
"I've never heard the name before. Who or what is he?"
Peter nodded. "Samson Mallory, you're sure you've never heard of him?"
Neal shook his head and looked Peter straight in the eyes.
"No, should I have done?"
Peter looked straight back at Neal. The con man was utterly convincing, just as he'd expected but he'd had enough of this charade.
"Cut the crap, Neal. You know him alright! Let me refresh your selective memory. 2004, the extremely rare, extremely valuable second world war Gruhberg papers disappeared from a private collection in The Hamptons. FBI analysis of the scene suggested two perpetrators, highly organised. Case notes at the time considered it to be the work of one Samson Mallory plus accomplice described as, let me see, oh yes, I quote: 'Young, dark haired, smartly dressed with a silver tongue;' I wonder who that could have been? Care to hazard a guess?"
Neal moved awkwardly in his chair but remained poker faced.
"I know you were involved along with Mallory, so don't try your innocent act with me, I am not in the mood especially since I haven't had any damn coffee since 6am!"
Neal still remained silent, not meeting Peter's eyes.
Peter changed tack, time to bring in the good cop.
"Look, Neal. I don't expect you to come straight out and admit to anything. Well, not at this particular moment anyhow, just tell me you know Mallory!"
Neal looked up at this; he was beginning to realise just how much Peter had on him and he had to admit that on this occasion, he was cornered.
After a few silent seconds which seemed to last for minutes, Neal replied.
"Since you put it like that, I may have heard of him …" He said it begrudgingly, his mind racing to ensure he didn't say anything incriminating.
Peter carried on in a loud, condescending voice.
"Good. Now we are getting somewhere. According to our Intel, Mallory fled the US in 2005 back to his native England. At this time you were residing with your orange clad buddies so probably weren't aware that he'd left the country."
Neal sighed resignedly at another reference to the 4 years he'd spent in prison. Peter enjoyed reminding him that he'd screwed up. He gave Peter his best 'you are so full of it!' look and let him continue.
"A week ago he returned to New York, coming in overland and bringing very little with him in the way of luggage. I want to know why he's here and what he's up to."
Neal didn't say anything at first, he just kept his head down but when he looked up, judging by Peter's facial expression he was expected to say something.
"Why are you telling me all this, what do you expect me to do?" He said at last.
Peter smiled and threw a file down onto the table in front of him.
"You're the expert, Moriarty. I want you to track Mallory down, befriend him again and find out what he wants in our fair city. I have a suspicion he will be leaving with a few souvenirs and I don't mean cheap miniature statues of the Empire State Building!"
Neal hesitated before picking up the file. It was purely for Peter's benefit that he made a show of looking through it. Yes, he knew Mallory, in fact he knew him very well. He was by a long shot the best cat burglar he'd ever come across. They had worked together a few times and were a good team, having been responsible for at least three unsolved, seriously expensive heists. Neal's eyebrows furrowed as he realised just what Peter was expecting from him.
"You want me to inform on him, is that what you're saying?" Neal gave Peter an intense stare.
Peter waved his concerns aside.
"I know there is a 'code', honour amongst thieves and all that, but we live in the 21st century and I want to know where he is so we can catch him before he escapes again."
Neal threw the file down on the table, trying to keep a lid on his disapproval.
"He hasn't done anything that you can prove, let alone anything in the last week. You can't expect me to do this, its entrapment!"
Peter sat back down and thought before he spoke. He knew what he was going to say next was below the belt, but Neal was the only one who could do this and he needed reminding of a few facts.
"Don't forget, Neal, the only reason you're sitting there and not in a 6 x 8 cell is because of the deal we made. You help me, remember?"
Neal stood up and grabbed his hat, his face set like stone.
"Yeah, I remember, you remind me often enough, but I don't have to like it!" He then started to leave.
"Where do you think you're going?" Peter demanded, like an overbearing parent to a petulant teenager.
"You're the FBI, go figure!" Neal shouted over his shoulder as he left the office and headed into the street.
