Tracking data

Peter stared at the papers spread out on his dining-room table. He did not like what he saw.

El got home.

"Hey." She saw the paper bag and thermos. "You got a stakeout?"

She bounced down on the nearest chair by the table.

"Yep. Deviled ham."

"You're either gonna torture Neal with it, or you're going alone."

"We'll see," he mumbled. This would be no ordinary stakeout. El picked the mood at once.

"What's going on?"

"Look." He showed her the map that he had been sketching on to find a pattern.

"Neal's tracking data," she said. "What's he up to now?"

"Nothing. Yet." But the kid had moved in an odd way and that meant something. "He spent 45 minutes on the corner of Kenmare and Lafayette last night."

"But honey, He can walk freely for a two-mile radius. Right?"

"Yeah, but it's the way he was walking. Look. He stands at every corner around this parking garage for exactly two minutes. He walks each street leading away from this point and then back again."

Neal knew he was monitored. From the beginning, Peter had noticed that Neal did his best to not have a regular pattern. But after a time Peter had learned the pattern of someone trying to not have a pattern. Never, ever had he walked like this.

"What do you think he was doing?"

"I think he was casing the area. How many people are around, where are there cameras. Looking for an escape in case he needs one."

"What is he planning?"

"I think he's gonna steal the music box."

"On a street corner?" El asked, perplexed.

"Working theory." Peter had no idea where this music box was but it was not in any museum.

"Well, have fun on your stakeout," she said, grabbed her phone and gave him a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you."

She left him for the kitchen and Peter stared at the maps. Parking garage? Exactly two minutes? When he had summarized the situation to El, the picture became clearer. No, Neal was not casing the area. He was pinpointing an area, drawing a treasure map with his tracking data.

But for who? For him? To see if he was watching and paying attention? The kid knew he was. Then who was the target? Jones too had access and the Marshals. And Garrett Fowler. Why would Neal draw this pattern for Fowler?

And did it have something to do with the music box?

Fowler, the music box, and Kate. They were connected somehow, he could not just pinpoint how. Why would Fowler hold Kate? Peter was quite sure that Kate was not held by anyone. But they might still play the same game. And this music box, why would they want it? What tune did it play? What secrets did it hold?

And how could he keep Neal from stealing it?


Neal waited in the underground parking garage under the corner of Kenmare and Lafayette. It was a few minutes after midnight. He heard a car arrive and stop. Doors slammed shut. Too many doors Neal noted. He had brought company.

"Fowler," he greeted the man when he turned the corner. "Oh. You brought a friend."

He knew the goon. The man had been around the office last time. For a horrible second, Neal thought they would arrest him for something they made up, but the goon just gestured for him to raise his arms.

"I'm not wired," he told Fowler while the goon did his pat-down.

"You'll forgive me if I don't take your word for it."

Neal sighed.

"He's clean," the goon said and Fowler nodded for him to leave.

"This better be good," said the man from OPR that had framed him once.

"I'm close to the music box."

Fowler looked at him as if he was not sure about how to react to that.

"Supposed to mean something to me?"

"Well, you flew in from D.C., so I think it does," Neal said and got no reply to that. After all, the man had come all this way because of a very cryptic message. "My window to get the box closes in the next week. I need my tracking anklet off to make it happen."

Fowler blinked and looked around as if people could be listening to him.

"You're not suggesting something illegal, are you Caffrey?"

"Of course not. Especially to an upstanding federal agent such as yourself." Neal beamed.

Fowler took a step closer, looking mean.

"You're pushing it."

"I'm gonna push it some more," Neal continued, not smiling at all now. "I give you the box, Kate and I never hear from you again. That's my price."

Fowler backed away and grinned.

"You know, I don't give a damn what you do, Caffrey. Just don't make it my problem."

Neal glared at him as he returned to his car. Time to see how eager his nemesis was to get his hands on the box.


Peter had been sitting in his car for an hour in the parking garage. Neal, however, was out walking. He saw that on the app on his phone. Criss-crossing back and forth. Finally, the app told him that Neal was going towards the garage and minutes later the kid came out of the elevator. Peter glanced on his watch. It was almost midnight.

Then another car came and Fowler and two goons stepped out. One of them stayed by the car while the other frisked Neal. Then the two of them were alone.

Peter had no chance to hear what they were saying to each other. All he could do was reading body language.

Then Fowler backed away from the kid with a grin.

"You know, I don't give a damn what you do, Caffrey. Just don't make it my problem."

Neal, what the hell are you doing? Peter mumbled to himself.

Fowler left and Neal smiled as he went to the elevator. That smile, Peter thought. The kid had made a deal with Fowler. About what? The music box, sure, but he had demanded something from the man of that Peter was sure.

Neal's tracking data told him the kid was walking home. Peter got the car started and drove home as well. Tomorrow would be Saturday and it was time to make an unannounced visit at his young conman.

When he got there the next morning, he could see the look on June's face that he came at a better moment than he had hoped. She showed him upstairs, well aware that he found his way around, knocked on Neal's door, opened it and, well, warned the kid that whatever he was doing he should hide it.

Peter smiled and waited a few seconds. He had no intention of arresting the kid. All he wanted was for Neal to understand that he would not get away with it. He stepped inside and saw both Alex and Mozzie there.

"Oh, look at this," he grinned. "All the usual suspects in one place. Makes my job much easier." He saw the short guy study a painting on an easel like it was of something of high interest. "What are you kids up to?"

"We were just leaving," Alex said with a wide smile, showing off a lot of perfect teeth.

"Yeah, I bet you were," Peter muttered.

Alex and Mozzie dropped off and he was alone with Neal.

"I know you met with Fowler," he told the kid. "And now Alex and your little buddy are here. You've got your whole crew to steal the box. Tell me I'm wrong."

Neal smiled and shrugged a little.

"You're wrong."

Peter first thought he had finally caught his pet convict lying, but then he realized Neal had just said what he hold him to say: 'Tell me I'm wrong'. Another loophole.

He huffed in frustration.

"I don't understand you. I gave you a shot at a better life."

There was something sad in the kid's eyes.

"It's not the life I want," he said.

No, because it did not include Kate. Kate was the key. It was nothing he could do about Neal's obsession. Now he had proof of it. If he ever thought that he could control Neal he was wrong. He had thought he could do something good to this young criminal, but when it came to it he had placed himself in the prime seat watching the kid running to his own destruction.

"Okay," Peter nodded. "Well, we all have our weakness." He met the eyes of the most brilliant man he ever met. Neal avoided his look. "Kate's yours."

That was the word to catch his attention alright. The kid knew that he knew about his plans. Yet, he could bet a fortune that Neal was about to steal the box anyway. Peter felt like a cold hand gripping his heart. The time when he would have to cuff him and bring him back to prison was arriving on an express train, and then there was nothing he could do to keep their partnership.

"Do the right thing, Neal," he begged.

He walked to leave but with his hand on the doorknob, he had one more thing to say to Neal.

"You're fooling yourself if you think Kate's on your side."


Alex and Mozzie both arrived early the next morning. Time was short and they needed to make plans. Neal found that Mozzie was still not comfortable with the idea of robbing a consulate. He backed away from the drawings of the floor plans, taking it in.

"This is the Italian consulate. It's not a bank or a museum. It's a little piece of a foreign country! If we had a tank, maybe. Or an air force."

"Well, we don't have an air force," Neal ended that line of thought and caught Alex smiling. "The party will get us past the wall of security into the main ballroom." He pointed at the floor plan and chanced drawing. "Only one way into the inner sanctum. It's through this security door. This door is our biggest obstacle."

"Uh, yeah. There's no keypads, no biometrics, no lock," Mozzie said as if this would stop them. "The only way is to get buzzed through by a guard stationed in the security room."

He exchanged a smile with Alex.

"Let me worry about that," he told Moz.

"Grand," his friend muttered.

"Once I'm through, there's a long hallway monitored by a closed-circuit camera. Down the hallway, I can get into the vault room." He pointed at the drawing. "Which safe is it exactly?" he asked Alex.

"I'll let you know."

"When I find the safe, all I have to do is crack it." He had to know what he was facing and Alex knew that.

"It's high security and torch resistant," she told him.

"Uh, you'll need heavy metal to get through the fire-resistant plate," Mozzie informed them behind him.

"Details," Neal sighed. "One thing at a time, Moz. Let's start with party invites."

"I'm looking for a man without a plus-one," Alex said. "I'm leaning towards this gentleman, Ignatius Barton."

"Why him?"

"He's a duke."

"Wouldn't someone less conspicuous do?"

"I always wanted to dance with a duke."

"All right," Neal continued to Mozzie. "You submit your résumé yet?"

"The catering company received it this morning. As the proprietor of the Greatest Cake bakery, I fully expect a glowing reference."

"Of course." It had been a brilliant move to buy that bakery and keep it after it played out its initial use. Not only this, but it also provided him with a small income that could explain some issues with his finances, not managed with the FBI's minimal payment.

"What's your in?" Alex asked.

"I'm planning to make a very generous donation to the people of Italy."

There was a knock on the door and June opened.

"Neal, uh… company is on the way."

"Thank you."

Behind him, Mozzie placed something in front of the floor plan drawings on the aisle. Seconds later Peter marched into the room, looking around.

"Oh, look at this," his handler grinned. "All the usual suspects in one place. Makes my job much easier. What are you kids up to?"

"We were just leaving," Alex said.

"Yeah, I bet you were."

Without a word Alex and Mozzie left and closed the door behind them. He watched Peter. Something made him come this morning and all Neal could think of was his strange tracking data.

"I know you met with Fowler," Peter said. So he had been there, figured out the clue. "And now Alex and your little buddy are here. You've got your whole crew to steal the box. Tell me I'm wrong."

Neal smiled and shrugged a little. That request was an open target.

"You're wrong."

Peter did not seem angry. It was more of frustration that shone through.

"I don't understand you. I gave you a shot at a better life!"

Yes, he had. And he loved Peter for it. But it had a vital part missing. And he, he was a criminal. No matter Peter's goodness, he could not change that.

"It's not the life I want."

Peter, as the respectful person he has, took this in and nodded.

"Okay. Well, we all have our weakness." Neal did not think of himself as weak and was about to protest when Peter added: "Kate's yours."

Neal knew Peter was right. If it had not been for Kate he would not try this. At least not now when Peter had figured out what he was up to.

"Do the right thing, Neal," Peter said. No, he begged, Neal realized. His friend and handler did not want to put him back in prison. Peter walked to the door and Neal heard him put his hand on the doorknob. But the door did not open.

"You're fooling yourself if you think Kate's on your side."

Neal turned and met his eyes. It was something desperate in Peter's look. His handler thought he would do a break-in and get caught for nothing. Peter would never understand. He had the woman he loved, they had a life together. Neal wanted that too.

Peter gave him a glare and left, closing the door behind him.

Neal sighed. His only hope was to not get caught.