Peter sat opposite their young suspect in their interrogation room. Usually, he unlocked the cuffs. This time he had not. The more that reminded their forger about the seriousness in the situation the better. He glanced at Neal, leaning against the wall. Peter had a feeling Neal was not entirely comfortable, but it did not seem to give him enough issues to leave.

After going through the regular stuff, making sure Justin did not want a lawyer, telling him about the recording and the camera, he showed Justin photos of the three forgeries.

"These are three forgeries of Lewis Thayer's 'untitled #2.' Have you painted these?"

"Haven't I already told you?" he asked, confused.

"For the record."

"Yes, I suppose those are the ones I painted."

"Where did you paint them?"

"At the Lamson gallery. In April."

"Are you aware that the original was stolen a few days ago?"

"Stolen?" Justin did seem paler.

"Your forgeries were sold overseas as the original."

"I… I didn't do that! Please, you have to believe me. All I did was the reproductions."

"Forgeries," Neal said. "Your reproductions are forgeries. You didn't sign them with your name."

"Yeah." Justin looked at his cuffed hands. "Forgeries."

Peter leaned back in his chair.

"So, tell us what happened."

"A while ago, I answered an ad on the school's list server for reproductions. I get an e-mail back commissioning seven copies of 'untitled #2.'"

"Seven?" Peter repeated. Where were the other four? "Did you wonder why somebody would want seven copies?"

"You know how hard it is to make money as an art student doing art?"

Easier than get rid of a criminal record, Peter thought.

"Who hired you?"

"I didn't meet them. They dropped the materials off in my mailbox. And once I'd finished, they said to leave the paintings in the rec center and that the money would be left in my box again." The young man must have understood how naive it sounded because he quickly added: "I thought it was weird that they didn't want to meet, so I—"

"So you stayed and watched the pick-up?" Neal ended the sentence.

"Yeah. I wanted to make sure it was legit. And she seemed normal, so I let it go."

Peter sighed. Most people looked normal. And those who did not were rarely crooks. But they needed to find those behind this.

"All right, if you sat down with a sketch artist, do you think you could remember what she looked like?"

"May I?" Justin asked and pointed and the art portfolio.

"Yeah."

With the help of Peter and Neal it was opened on the table, filling it. Justin moved a few sketches aside and found what he was looking for.

"This is her."

Peter exchanged a look with Neal. It was a young beauty and if he had caught her features right it would be as good as if they had a photo.

Neal had not been in that interrogation room since his own arrest. It was interesting really. He had after all worked with Peter for eight months now. He pushed away the memories from his last stay in prison, breaking the period in two pieces. He hoped Justin would come off easy. He had not, but that was a different thing. He had not given Peter anything usable. In his case there was no bigger fish to catch. Beside he had not done what he did because he was lured into it or because he was naive. He did it because he was smart enough to pull it off.

He heard their voices all the way down the stairs.

"My fault?! It's your fault!" Alex?

He opened the door to his apartment and found Mozzie and Alex on each side of the dining room table. One on her feet, one sitting with a glass of wine.

"This would never have happened if you kept a lower profile!" Moz returned. "That's why I work in code."

Neal joined them.

"Anything I can do?"

"I don't need your help," Alex said at the same time as Mozzie said the opposite.

"Alex?"

"Someone's looking for her."

Alex glared at his friend.

"Who?"

"She thinks it has something to do with the music box."

The music box? Neal's hear skipped a leap.

"Why?" he asked her.

"Well, she thinks—"

"Just let her talk," Neal interrupted Moz.

"I don't know who, but they've got a powerful reach, and they've turned over a lot of stones."

"All right, what can I do?"

Alex and Mozzie exchanged looks and she dug in her bag. Then she trow him something golden. He caught it.

"Krugerrands?" Had she gone insane?

"I needed the money to disappear."

"I hooked her up with someone… who deals in Krugerrands.

"I've been fencing some in increments."

"Who's the guy?" Neal wanted to know.

"Russell Smith," Moz said. "Old friend from Detroit."

"Some friend!" Alex snorted. "Russell found out someone's looking for me, and now he's gonna sell me out." She swung from Neal back to Mozzie. "I need you to shut him up!"

"Short of killing him, I'm open to ideas."

Frustrated, Alex grabbed her bag and walked towards the door. Neal caught up with her.

"Give me some time. I'll figure something out," he said. "You know I won't let anything happen to you."

She looked at him, as if she was not quite sure what to think of it. He returned the Krugerrand to her.

"Thanks." She smiled and left.

Neal closed the door behind her and turned to Mozzie, just as baffled as last time.

"She comes to you and not to me?"

His friend got to his feet.

"Far be it for me to act as therapist, but... Maybe Alex doesn't want to see you heartbroken over Kate."

"Or maybe it's the tracking anklet," Neal suggested.

"Sure, it's the anklet."

"Found our girl," Diana said walking into his office. "Justin's got talent."

She handed him a photo of Justin's drawing with a photo of the same girl paper clipped to the corner.

"If ever we're short a sketch artist, I know who to call," Peter said and figured he knew where to find him too at least for a year. "Who is she?"

"Veronica Naylon."

"Did she send the e-mail?"

"Can't be sure. The account's defunct, and the address was generic. Both the ad and e-mail account were created at the school computer lab, so anyone could have done it." Diana handed him a file. "Here's her work-up."

Peter browsed it.

"Junior, majoring in archaeology, mediocre grades, no priors," he summoned and glanced at Diana. "How does an average 21-year-old student from the Upper East Side pull this off?"

"You think she has accomplices?"

"Maybe this is where she met them," Peter pointed at a row. "She's an archaeology major, but she's currently acing a criminology class."

"It's the one class she's pulling an A"

"How appropriate."

"Oh, if you like that, you'll love this..." Diana grinned and handed him two papers. "Syllabus for the class."

Peter scanned them and caught why she was smiling.

"He's gonna be impossible after this." Diana just smiled even more to that comment. "Where's Neal?" At his desk. Peter took the papers and walked out to him. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the kid cutting the article of the theft from the newspaper.

"Oh, look at you. You'd think being copycatted was like winning the crime Oscar."

"What? I'm not allowed to revel?"

Peter had hoped for a different reaction, but it was Neal.

"All right, take me through your version of this scam. How many players are involved?"

"You'd need a forger, a thief, and a couple of fences," the kid answered without hesitation.

"Not the kind of thing you'd pull off by yourself?"

"Not unless you can be in multiple places at once. I mean, it's a sophisticated job. I doubt Justin or our mystery girl thought of it themselves."

"No, but they might have figured it out by studying you," Peter said and Neal's eyebrows went up. "Our mystery girl, Veronica... she's acing a criminology class. Here's the syllabus."

His pet convict grabbed it and saw what Peter had seen to. The headline 'Neal Caffrey: Forger'. It was not true that they spent six years chasing him, but apart from that Peter could nothing but agree. Interesting reflection there too, that Neal worked alone or with just two or three others, to minimize the risk of being sold out.

"They spent a week on me?" The kid could not have looked more delighted if Peter told him he could rob a bank and keep the money.

"Apparently you're one of the interesting criminals of the 21st century."

"'A new breed of forger', 'technological virtuoso.'" Neal read. "Wow. 'With a classical artistic foundation.' They got it."

"Yeah, yeah. I read it." Of course they studied Neal Caffrey, with every right. He was brilliant. But Peter wished with all his heart that the kid had never found out.

"Oh, they covered the Antioch manuscripts. Did you see that?"

"Yeah, I know. Relax. They only covered you for a week. By the end of the year, they probably won't remember your name."

"Well, obviously, a few of them will," the con man pointed out. "You think she formed a crew in this class?"

"People have been known to fall for a pretty face," Peter said. "If Veronica had help, I don't want to scare them away by my talking to her just yet."

"Well, I can talk to her," Neal offered.

"Now you're reading my mind."

"Anklet?"

"I'll pull it for this one," Peter nodded. But he also noted how quick Neal had been asking about it. "You ready to go back to school?"

"I think I can handle that."

"Good."

"'Cause I'm a technological virtuoso."

"Okay." Peter left towards his office.

"With a classical artistic foundation."

"Okay, okay. Read it to yourself. Quiet now."

"Did you guys see this syllabus?" the kid called out over the office. Thank God it was almost empty.