"Are we going to Montebello?" the kid asked after awhile of walking on streets less used on their lunch hour.

"Yep." Peter agreed.

"The Times food critic called it the best new restaurant in Manhattan."

"Yep. Gave it three stars."

"They practice molecular gastronomy."

Peter frowned.

"What?" It sure did not sound like a smashing log line for a restaurant. Neal however was excited as a little kid.

"It's a revolution in fine dining where chefs use biochemistry to create new and exotic dishes."

"A grill works just fine for me." The thought of paying money for anything but decent food was appalling.

"Every dish is a work of art," his pet convict continued totally lost in thought about what Peter was not even sure he would consider as food. "I'm surprised you chose Montebello. It's expensive. I'm impressed."

Peter frowned. He had not thought Neal that naive. He should know this type of restaurant would never be his cup of tea.

"Oh, we're not eating there."

The stare he got from the kid was almost heartbreaking. Peter continued ahead. Neal was not a kid.

"Okay, Peter, this is like me taking you to Yankee stadium, then listening to the game in the parking lot."

"It's a meeting place," Peter defended himself. "I didn't pick it."

"Who did?"

"The insurance investigator."

"Insurance? Great." Peter was not surprised to the tone he got in return. Insurance investigators had been chasing Neal Caffrey, too. Though they had no authority to arrest him, they did not have the same obligations and paperwork either. He was pretty sure some of them had been nasty and been in a gray area for legal behavior themselves.

"Someone stole a hundred million in Japanese bearer bonds," Peter told him.

"Samurai bonds. Nice," the kid grinned. "That's what they're call on the street." That was not why he had been glaring at Neal. It was for the tone. Had Neal stolen or forged that kind of bonds without him having a clue?

"Now I've got your interest."

"Who's the investigator?"

"She has a suspect here in Manhattan."

"She?" Neal stopped at once. "Wait, wait. Is it…?" Peter nodded. There could only be one Neal meant. "No…" He nodded again. The kid was so pail that Peter had a hard time not to smile to wide. "It is?"

"Yep."

Peter walked ahead living Neal to collect himself. He saw Sara Ellis on the sidewalk outside Montebello. She saw him and smiled.

"Agent Burke, it's nice to see you." Her face changed when she saw who came behind him. "Neal Caffrey. It's been a while." That was chilly enough to give a beer a nice temperature.

"Sara," Neal replied, charm on for sure. "Nearly five years since you testified at my trial. Against me." Not a tone of forgiveness there. But Sara had a different opinion about the kid than he, and expressed it very clearly at the trial.

"You did steal a painting insured by my employer for several million dollars," she said, smiling in return.

"Not according to a jury of my peers."

"I thought all your peers they all were in prison."

Peter's eyes went from one to another. Were these two adults?

"A few of us managed to stay out."

"I could fix that."

"Sorry to break up this happy reunion," Peter interrupted. "But we're here to talk about the samurai bonds." Sara's eyebrows went up and Peter realized he had used Neal's term for them. "That's what they call them out on the street."

"We're not here to talk about them," Sara objected. "We're here to find them."

She had always been a woman of action.

"A girl's got to make a living," Neal said.

"My fees are based on recovery, so, yeah."

Her eyes trailed away into the restaurant.

"Sara?"

Her focus returned and she handed him a file.

"My company, Sterling Bosch, insured a hundred million in non-government Japanese bearer bonds."

"A hundred million Yen or U.S. dollars?" the kid asked.

"Dollars."

"And if you recover them?"

"2 percent." A big fee, but an insecure income. "The truck was hijacked in transport," she told him, "and I think the bonds are somewhere here in New York."

"She believes Edgar Halbridge is involved," Peter updated the kid.

"Bi-international real-estate guy," he said, showing off. "He can move them without raising flags."

"Yes, he can," Sara said. "Excuse me."

She left them and walked over to a car the valet just drove to the entrance.

"Emilio's just inside," she said and got the keys to the car. "Thank you so much."

"You!" an man exiting the restaurant called out. "That's my car! Get away from it!"

He saw Neal watching the scene just as interested as he.

"Emilio, listen to me. You can change the vin numbers, you can change the grill, the paint. It's still a Mercedes SLR. I know, because you didn't change electronic vin behind the steering wheel."

"You're crazy! You're just stealing my car!"

"You stole it. I'm taking it back."

The man's hand moved inside the jacket and so did Peter's. But Sara was quicker. She had a telescope baton out and placed it on his arm.

"Don't make a scene." Emilio did not agree and Sara smacked him on the side of his knee. "You can file a complaint with my friend from the FBI."

She nodded towards Peter and continued to the car. Peter sighed and pulled out his ID. He had nothing on his guy and had to hope that Sara Ellis did. She most likely had all he could possibly need. Still he did not like being second to see it.

"Hi, there. Special Agent Burke, FBI."

"This is just a misunderstanding. I should just..." He limbed away from them.

"You should stop walking and put your hand above your head."

"Yeah, running just annoys him," the kid said and left him to join Sara by the car.

While Peter cuffed the man the car took off and he saw Neal watching it go.

"So happy to have you back in my life."

"Every dish is a work of art," he mused, looking forward to seeing it with his own eyes. And eat there too. "I'm surprised you chose Montebello. It's expensive. I'm impressed." It was not the kind of place Peter usually picked. Maybe he wanted to do something to make his protege happy?

"Oh, we're not eating there."

Neal stopped but Peter continued, so he got his feet moving again, somehow. How could he say that without a warning? Did he not understand?

"Okay, Peter, this is like me taking you to Yankee stadium, then listening to the game in the parking lot."

"It's a meeting place," Peter shrugged like it made a difference. "I didn't pick it."

"Who did?"

"The insurance investigator."

This day's lunch hour just turned worse than he thought possible. Insurance investigators did not need much evidence to stalk him.

"Insurance? Great."

"Someone stole a hundred million in Japanese bearer bonds."

"Samurai bonds," Neal grinned. "Nice." Hard to find for an investigator, but easier for him and Peter. He saw his handler looking at him. "That's what they're call on the street."

"Now I've got your interest." He was right there. Maybe this could be fun after all.

"Who's the investigator?"

"She has a suspect here in Manhattan."

"She?" And Peter had not answered the question. He stopped. "Wait, wait. Is it…?" Peter nodded. It could not be Sara Ellis, could it? "No…" Please… But Peter continued to nod. "It is?"

"Yep."

He was not sure if he knew or guessed that they had been cooperating before his arrest, but it had never crossed his mind that they would do so now. He had hoped she would be a one-time appearance in his life. Well, he was a somewhat trusted man these days, and a lot to be proud of on the legal side. He adjusted his suit and caught up with Peter who just said his greetings to her.

"Agent Burke, it's nice to see you." The smile disappeared. "Neal Caffrey. It's been a while." She had rather not seen him too it seemed, but she did come, knowing he would come. She did not seem surprised to see him.

"Sara. Nearly five years since you testified at my trial. Against me."

"You did steal a painting insured by my employer for several million dollars." As if it was a fact.

"Not according to a jury of my peers," he reminded her.

"I thought all your peers they all were in prison."

"A few of us managed to stay out."

"I could fix that," she snapped back.

"Sorry to break up this happy reunion, but we're here to talk about the samurai bonds," Peter said and Neal smiled at the expression. "That's what they call them out on the street."

"We're not here to talk about them. We're here to find them." Good luck with that, Neal thought. You are too easy to fool.

"A girl's got to make a living," he smiled.

"My fees are based on recovery, so, yeah." Did she not get a salary with just a little bonus? That could explain some of her peer's behavior.

"Sara?" Peter asked her when she seemed absentminded.

"My company, Sterling Bosch, insured a hundred million in non-government Japanese bearer bonds," she refocused and handed Peter a file.

"A hundred million Yen or U.S. dollars?"

"Dollars." She talked to him and did not treat him like air. That was a good sign.

"And if you recover them?" he pressed on.

"2 percent." On a hundred million. Not bad. "The truck was hijacked in transport," she told Peter, "and I think the bonds are somewhere here in New York."

"She believes Edgar Halbridge is involved," his handler told him.

"Bi-international real-estate guy." That was an interesting idea. "He can move them without raising flags."

"Yes, he can," Sara agreed. "Excuse me."

She left them and Peter looked as baffled as he felt. She did not go far. A valet parked a car right outside. An expensive car by the look of it.

"Emilio's just inside," she beamed towards the valet who gave her the keys without asking any questions. "Thank you so much."

"You! That's my car! Get away from it!" The man who was probably Emilio emerged from the restaurant. So she had kept an eye on him while talking to Peter.

"Emilio, listen to me," she began. "You can change the vin numbers, you can change the grill, the paint. It's still a Mercedes SLR. I know, because you didn't change electronic vin behind the steering wheel."

"You're crazy! You're just stealing my car!"

"You stole it. I'm taking it back." Neal watched amazed how the woman now was armed with a telescope baton and stopped him. "Don't make a scene." Why would he not? She smacked him on the side of the knee and Neal suddenly remembered why he disliked insurance investigators. "You can file a complaint with my friend from the FBI."

"Hi, there. Special Agent Burke, FBI," Peter showed his ID.

"This is just a misunderstanding. I should just..."

"You should stop walking and put your hand above your head." If you could call that limping a walk.

"Yeah, running just annoys him." Sara was on her way to take the car. He stopped her from closing the door. "So you're basically a high-class repo man."

"Well, I prefer white-collar bounty hunter," she answered. She was not hostile, just… not interested.

"You should put that on your business card."

"This is a limited edition SLR," she explained as if she had found a new best lover. "Worth 450,000 dollars."

"Making your cut nine thousand. Not a bad score on your lunch break."

"No, it's not," she agreed. "Speaking of business cards…" she continued and brought out her own and handed it to him. "When you feel like turning in that Raphael, please call me."

He looked at her quite baffled. If he had managed so far, he sure was not going to just hand it over to her so she could earn money.

"I wouldn't wait by the phone."

"See you tomorrow, Caffrey."

She closed the door and drive off.

"So happy to have you back in my life."

No, she could not be charmed, but not because she was not interested in men, but because he was another type of challenge she could not let go. And she was the only one that had been close to finding the Raphael. Not even Peter had been near as close. And Neal had a nagging feeling that she knew she had been close.