It turned out that Cole Edwards was smarter than might have been indicated by his scheme of substituting inferior building materials. And his attorney was much smarter. With even the possibility of under the table help from Pratt's patronage effectively gone, Edwards was on his own. When they heard the word 'deal,' and heard what the prosecution was offering, they jumped to take advantage of it.

Josh Bryson was satisfied. Trials that relied on complex financial traces were difficult, and so much depended on getting just the right jury. Otherwise people got lost amongst all of the money transactions and outcomes could be unpredictable. Besides, with Edwards agreeing to assist the contractor assigned to verify the structural integrity of the buildings in question, that job would go smoother. Reducing the odds of having a building collapse, with the associated risk of multiple deaths, was definitely a win.

And Diana left the early morning meeting with what she hoped would be a useful piece of the puzzle that would at least suggest reasonable doubt in Peter's case.

The morning routine already seemed familiar, and Peter found that somehow unsettling. It turned out that breakfast on Fridays consisted of the standard industrial powdered scrambled eggs – made slightly more palatable by the hot sauce Neal had procured. The sausage links were actually edible, though he felt like he should reserve judgment in case they came back up later.

The toast was burned again, a touch of consistency.

The guards had just come to take them for showers when another guard announced that Peter's attorney was there. And so he left Neal to achieve cleanliness while he turned the other way to the consultation rooms.

Even after the two meetings the previous day, Peter still had to stifle his reaction as he walked into the small room - the guy just looked like a kid. But, having dealt with a lot of attorneys over the years, defense and prosecution, he had to admit that Russell knew his way around a legal argument.

It just still felt strange to have to be pulling for the defense side to win in this case…

Peter took a seat at the table, waited for the door to close behind him. "You're here early in the day. Does that mean news?"

"Good news, I think," Russell replied, pointing at a chair in the corner.

Peter looked that way, and felt his pulse increase just a bit – a clear plastic bag, with a suit inside. "Does that mean you got a hearing scheduled?"

"This afternoon at one o'clock. There will be a lot of security procedures, so you should be ready to go by eleven."

"What kind of hearing are we talking about?"

"It's a preliminary hearing, to show cause to continue the case."

"What should I expect?"

Russell slid a couple of pages across the table. "The entire staff of the local US Attorney's office recused themselves, and rightfully so. You've testified in a lot of their cases. The Attorney General's office is sending someone in as a special prosecutor."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not at all. Regardless of who's at the other table, they still have to prove a case. It just makes this hearing a bit unusual."

"Story of my life, at least these last few years," Peter replied. What was it Neal had said in the Burma case – that they specialized in the unorthodox…

"The same procedures still have to be followed," Russell was saying. "The formal charge sheet was filed this morning."

Peter looked down at the indicated page, words like murder and conspiracy dancing before his eyes. "We expected this, right?" he managed to ask, though his throat felt strangely tight.

"Absolutely. You'll have to enter a plea."

"Which will be not guilty."

That got a small smile from Russell. "Of course it will. The prosecution will then have to lay out an overview of its evidence to justify continuing the case. After that, we'll have the opportunity to counter with our own evidence to contradict their argument."

"And we do have something to counter the prosecution with, right?"

"Yes, we do. And I should have more by this afternoon. Director Bancroft has asked for a meeting in about an hour. But I wanted to see you first."

Peter nodded. "Any idea what he may have?"

Russell shook his head. "No, not yet."

Peter sucked in a deep breath, let it out. "All right, so the prosecution presents its case, you present ours. What then?"

"I'll make a motion to dismiss the case based on insufficient evidence."

Peter felt his eyes go wide, and he sat up a little straighter. "Do you think there's a chance?"

For the first time Russell hesitated, and then slowly shook his head. "Unless James Bennett is in custody, and talking, by then, the motion will be denied. There's enough prima facie evidence to hold the case over for trial. But we can then move to have bail set."

"And we have a chance for that?"

"Definitely. The more doubt we can cast on the prosecution's case, the stronger our argument will be."

"But a high profile murder case…" Peter paused, sighed. "Even if the judge sets bail, it's going to be high."

"Probably," Russell agreed. "One thing at a time. Let's get bail set, and then we can work on meeting it."

"All right, tell me what else I need to know about this hearing…"

"Moz, how are my legal prospects looking?"

Mozzie conspicuously adjusted his white noise device before answering. "I'm expecting some news on a hearing date soon."

"Something less than the estimated two to three months, I hope?"

"As if I'd let you languish in here that long."

Neal smiled as he took his seat at the table. "It's good to know my attorney has my best interests at heart."

"Always."

"What about helping Peter?"

"Mrs. Suit called just before I got here. Apparently, his preliminary hearing got scheduled for this afternoon."

"He did get a fairly early visit from his attorney, but he hadn't made it back yet before you came. Have you found anything else to help his case?"

"Sally cracked the security code on the last of the surveillance systems last night. Jones has all of the video evidence available from the building."

"And James is on there?"

Mozzie's answering smile was reassuring. "In vivid detail, complete with gun in a few shots."

"That should definitely help. But no sign of him yet?"

"A couple of possible sightings. I've dispatched more people to the areas."

"If he's left New York…"

"No reason to think he has, Neal. In fact, less than an hour ago, June's car was located."

"Not in small pieces at a chop shop, I hope."

"Quite intact. A small ding on one fender, but I'll have that taken care of."

"Where was it?"

"In the Pelham vicinity. Which, coincidentally, is near where the rumored sightings of James Bennett occurred."

"So when he couldn't go west…"

"He apparently turned east," Mozzie finished. "I'm sending reinforcements to the area tonight. The rumored sightings have all been after dark."

"Makes sense," Neal agreed. "He's probably laying low during the day."

"I've got Kato discretely distributing the sketches you did with the different looks."

"Did you tell people to check for the name Sam Phelps too? He must have had ID in Sam's name if he rented a car and a hotel room."

"Done. And Jones said the FBI has checked that name too. But the only Samuel Phelps they've found on a plane manifest was confirmed to be the eleven year old son of a Brooklyn cop, going to Cleveland to visit his grandparents."

"I remembered something else. He told me once his name in witness protection was Joseph Banks. I don't know if he kept any ID from those days."

"It's worth checking. I'll get the name out. I assume you don't object now to your government overseers running that name?"

"No objections at all."

"Consider it done."

"Sounds like you've got it all covered, Moz."

"We'll find him, Neal."

"Yeah." Neal sighed and rested his elbows on the table, leaning wearily against his hands. "I just feel so useless sitting in here."

"You've been here to watch Peter's back," Mozzie replied. "I'd bet he considers that of value."

"I hope so. And hopefully he'll be out of here soon." Neal paused and sat up straight again. "Moz, if they do set bail, in a murder case it's probably going to be more than Elizabeth can come up with."

"Fortunately, we have the resources to do something about that."

"The resources, yes," Neal agreed. Had Peter ever figured out that not all of the treasure was recovered when they took Keller down? "But like you said, you don't have the secure background set up to post a high dollar bail."

It took just a moment of contemplation before Mozzie smiled. "I'm meeting June after this to get the spare key to the Jag so it can be brought back."

"And she would be an excellent front person at the court," Neal agreed.

"The best. I'll talk to her and see what her plans are for the rest of the day."

"Thanks, Moz."

"Anything else you need, Neal?"

"Just for this to all be over," Neal replied quietly. "I just want this over."

"This is good. This is really good." Hughes looked up, offering the agents across from him a smile. Both Jones and Berrigan had apparently gotten a little sleep last night, and it showed.

Hell, he'd gotten some sleep himself, unlike the night before, and it made a world of difference.

But what was really making a difference in the attitudes of the three of them was what was laid out on the table.

Jones had arrived with photos – lots of photos of James Bennett in the Empire State Building. Some even showed Pratt's gun in his hand. And, even though the exact way the photos had been obtained might not stand up to much legal scrutiny, they now knew which surveillance logs to concentrate on to get the 'official' photos.

Berrigan had had an early morning meeting with Josh Bryson, one of the local prosecutors for the US Attorney's office. He'd handed over the unofficial notes from the statement made by Cole Edwards, detailing Pratt's involvement in his construction scams. The official transcript was promised before noon.

Hughes had additional audio evidence from his friends at NSC. Pratt had been busy on his phone during the train ride to New York. While he might privately have some qualms about how far the NSC was going in its domestic surveillance efforts, this was definitely not the time to voice any reservations. The implications of who Pratt called were staggering – cleaning out the rat's nest of corruption across multiple agencies was going to be a massive undertaking.

"Hopefully it's enough to help Peter at the preliminary hearing," Jones said.

"I think it will," Hughes replied. "I'm seeing Bancroft right after this, and he has a meeting with Peter's attorney a little later."

"I got a call from a friend of mine at the local District Attorney's office," Diana added. "She said Pratt's bodyguard was coming in to make an official statement, and from what he said over the phone, she thought I'd want to be there."

Hughes nodded, starting to gather up the documents and photos spread across the table. "Let me know what you find out."

Jones slid out of the booth and got to his feet. "I'm heading to the Bronx. Ruiz gave me a couple of contacts at one of the local precincts. Gonna talk to them about where someone might hide a Jaguar around there."

"Let's meet again by the courthouse at noon," Hughes suggested.

"There's a good bakery right around the corner," Diana suggested. "Their croissant sandwiches are fantastic."

"You mean Caffrey's place?" Hughes asked.

Jones grinned. "Hey, have you tried those pastries he brings in from time to time?"

Hughes nodded. "I have. All right, The Greatest Cake at noon."

"Ah, the lucky tie."

"Can't hurt, right?" Peter asked.

"True," Neal agreed. "Any advantage you can get."

"If I could just get it tied." Peter sighed and undid the poor excuse for a knot he'd wound up with. He glared at his shaking hands, but they didn't seem to get the message and become steady.

Neal had been sitting cross-legged on Peter's bunk, and he pushed himself to his feet. "Here, let me," he said, grasping the two loose ends of the offending item.

"Can't remember ever being this nervous before court," Peter said, holding his neck and shoulders still as Neal worked. Of course, he couldn't remember needing help with a tie since he was a child either…

"Well, you don't usually have as much of a personal stake in the outcome." Neal stepped back, studying his work for a moment before nodding in approval.

"That's true," Peter admitted, accepting the suit coat that Neal held out. Apparently being a federal agent still got him a few favors, because he'd been allowed to dress for court in the cell, instead of having to travel in the garish orange jail uniform. And now, suit and tie in place, he felt more like himself again. He could even feel his shoulders straightening, almost as if of their own free will.

"Looks good," Neal said, stepping back. "Projecting confidence."

"I do have innocence going for me."

"Keep believing in that."

"Well, that, and the lucky tie."

Neal smiled and sat down again. "An unbeatable combination, I'm sure."

Peter flipped the end of the tie up idly. "If it works for me, I could lend you the tie."

Neal scrunched his nose up in distaste. "Pass, but thanks."

"Are you dissing my lucky tie?"

"I'm thinking the luck may be specific to you on this one."

"Is that a diplomatic way of saying the tie is ugly and you wouldn't be caught dead wearing it?"

Neal just grinned. "Just saying luck is an individual thing."

Peter returned the smile, though his was a little more tentative. Nerves, he'd guess… "Maybe so. But you know, there was a time El accused me of having more faith in this tie than in you."

"She may have been right."

"She might have been, at the time. Not any more though."

Neal sighed, his smile gone. "Probably better to have faith in the tie today."

"Neal…"

The sound of the door being unlocked stopped any further conversation. "Time to go, Burke."

"Right." Peter tugged at his cuffs one more time. "Time to face the consequences."

"Consequences," Neal said softly. He looked up, his voice stronger as he spoke again. "Good luck, Peter."

"Thanks."

"And Peter, I really don't want to see you back here."

Peter paused at the door and looked back. "Was I that bad a cellie?"

"Not that bad. But I think Elizabeth wants you home."

At the guard's direction, Peter stepped into the hallway and then waited as the door was locked again. "Even if I get bail, it might be a while before we can raise it."

"Nah, you're covered," Neal replied.

Peter was still wondering what that meant as he was led away.

Wendell Halprin hung up the phone, then sat and stared at the now-silent instrument for a long moment.

It had been an unexpected – and not entirely pleasant – conversation.

Yes, he'd received the special-delivery envelope. Yes, he recognized the people in the photos… all too well. Yes, he understood what would happen if his wife saw the photos.

The affair had never been without risk, which had somehow made it more exciting. And now that risk had apparently caught him up.

Taking a deep breath, Wendell turned back to his computer and pulled up a file. The request – demand – from the person on the other end of the phone had been unusual, to say the least. As the regional head of the probation office, he had control over scheduling hearings. Not that he usually did that himself, of course; it was better delegated to his staff.

He'd make an exception in this case.

And actually, now that he thought about it, the demand wasn't really that much. The caller hadn't insisted that he make a specific determination on the outcome of the case, just that he schedule a hearing post haste.

A small price to pay, compared to alimony, and losing the society contacts from Gwen's family.

Yes, he could probably cobble together a hearing board next Wednesday. Maybe he could even squeeze it in on Tuesday…