Peter was proud of the details of his work. He had a drawing of Stanzler's museum on the table and explaining it all to his wife, with the help of wooden cubes and a little metal figure for the priceless items on display.
"The emergency exits are here, and here. There's only one entrance to the exhibit and a service corridor."
El nodded, impressed. She leaned her head to the side, making her long hair fall back from her face.
"If you're not planning on robbing the museum, why would you need to know all this?"
"It's my 'in', to impress Stanzler."
"You know, it's sexy watching you plan a heist."
Peter looked at the love of his life. She was sexy listening to his plans.
"Yeah? Think I should go rogue?"
"Yes!"
Peter chuckled. He took his suit jacket and put it on.
"All right. Say goodbye to Peter Burke." He adjusted his collar, aiming for a casual yet elegant pose and impression the kid had. "Hi. I'm Caffrey. Neal Caffrey." El stifled a laugh. Not the response he had hoped for. "What?"
"Nothing." Her grand smile said something else.
"You don't like my Neal."
"Well," El said, gesturing with her hands, "he sort of has a way of, I don't know, pulling you in when he talks. A kind of quiet, sexy whisper."
He trusted El, but he was not keen on hearing her speak of Neal as sexy. He and the kid were different in so many aspects, and if she found his pet convict attractive, what was left for him?
"Oh, sexy, huh?"
"And he doesn't put his hands on his hips," El pointed out, and Peter removed his hands, adjusting the slacks, trying to remember where Neal had his hands.
"Right."
"He gets people to do what he wants by charming them. He doesn't rely on a badge."
"Really?" Peter sat down, meeting the eyes of the woman he shared his life with, whom he adored, loved, and wanted to share his bed with forever. "Well, you are so smart. You have all the answers, and I couldn't do this without you."
The look he got in return made him want to take her upstairs right away.
"Much better." She gave him a kiss on the mouth. He winked. Duty called, and he rose. "Oh, honey? You're gonna have to take off your wedding ring."
He had been so lost in thoughts about El that it had not crossed his mind. The heat between them was lost for now. She held out her hand.
"I am." He pulled it off and put it in her hand. "Feel naked without it."
"Maybe you could wear a hat."
He growled. No, no, no. No hat. He would just feel ridiculous.
He left the house and walked towards the museum, wondering where and when he would feel like Neal and not like Peter Burke doing an imitation.
The kid met him on the way, within his radius. Peter stopped and stared at the young con man, who stood with his hands on his hips and pushed out his chest in an effort to imitate Peter's body posture. But he and the kid was not built the same way. When the young man pushed his chest out like that, it gave him the profile of a chicken or a duck.
"So, Neal, you're prepared to meet Stanzler?" the kid asked.
"We're alone," Peter pointed out.
"So?"
Peter suddenly felt more confident in his role as Neal. He knew for sure he did not look like a chicken, at least.
"I've his whole museum figured out," he said, not without pride.
"And what would you steal," the kid asked. "Hypothetically?"
"I'd go for the scarab. It's in a straight line from the entrance, easy to hide, cameras—" Peter halted and glared at Neal. It was something about his face. "What?"
"That's work if you have got a few hours at night. Not something to impress with."
That was not what he wanted to hear when he had done a considerable job planning. But he did not allow himself to be so stubborn that he did not listen to someone he could trust doing a better job.
"What would you steal then?"
And Neal told him.
They said goodbye, and Peter reached the museum. He found Brooke, who kept a straight face as she showed him outside where Stanzler was, drinking coffee and making phone calls, it seemed.
"Mr. Stanzler," Brooke called his attention. The man put the mug down on the little outdoor table. "This is Neal Caffrey."
"Who?"
"Your eleven o'clock, sir." Brooke nodded at him and left, leaving him with Stanzler.
"I understand you're interested in an acquisition," Peter said, with what he hoped was the low, sexy, pulling-in voice El had talked about.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You're interested in an acquisition," he tried again with his normal voice.
"Who told you that?"
"Big Bill Rosko." Peter put his hands in the pockets of his slacks. "He said you offered him a job."
"Yeah, well," he chuckled. "Big Bill has a big mouth. And I never offered him anything."
Peter felt he had no idea how criminals made deals without being plain about it.
"Well, if there is a job, I'm your man."
Stanzler laughed.
"Everybody in your business says the same thing, right?"
"What if I told you I could rob this place in under 20 minutes?"
"I'd say good luck. We've got the top-of-the-line security system."
"It's good, but nothing's perfect. Two cameras cover the front and back, but they're blind to the side exits. Your roof? It's a burglar's dream. 1-inch wood and asphalt."
"What exactly would you leave with?" the man asked in return, totally unimpressed. "Every display is laser-guarded, heat-, motion-, and weight-sensored."
Peter suppressed a smile, sending a happy thought to Neal.
"I know. So I'd skip the display and hit your private collection."
"How did you know about that?"
"Like I said. I'm the best."
"How did it go?" Neal asked Peter when the agent returned to the office.
"Fine, thanks to you," Peter grinned. "How did you know about his private collection?"
"Oh, just rumors," he shrugged. "Me tracing a painting or two. You know, pieces here and there."
"So, you didn't know," Peter frowned.
Neal did not favor that attitude much. What did you really know if you pushed the demands for 'know' to the edge?
"Unlike the FBI, I don't need solid proof to do my job."
"Alright," Peter nodded and turned to the rest of the office. "Everybody in the conference room, now, please."
The herd of agents moved there, and Neal got there as well, taking a seat.
"Stanzler needs a thief to steal a flash drive from this man," Peter said and pushed a button on the remote, turning the TV on with a prepared image. "Another trader, Francis Luntz."
"Slow down, Caffrey," Diana whined. "I want to hear details about 'the meet.'"
"Quiet, you," Peter snapped, but Neal thought he saw a hint of a smile. "Based on their trading records and what little information I got from Stanzler, I believe the two are using their combined market power to create temporary shortages."
"But did you flaunt your past crimes?" Jones asked.
"No, I did not flaunt my past crimes," Peter returned and sent Diana a glare because she laughed.
"How did you convince him to hire you?" Neal asked. He was baffled that it had worked. Peter shrugged.
"I'm that good." And that smile. Neal sighed and could sense Jones' smile beside him. "These guys are incredibly careful. From what I can gather, Luntz doesn't trust Stanzler. He secretly videotaped one of their meetings. Now, this video, which is now on a flash drive, is what Stanzler wants me to retrieve."
"Steal," Neal corrected. Peter was, after all, supposed to be a thief.
"Steal." Peter agreed.
"Why don't we just use a warrant?" Diana asked.
"We could, but Stanzler doesn't know exactly what's on the tape. So if we shake Luntz down and the video is insufficient, we blow our chances of catching either one of these guys. But I do want a warrant for Luntz's home."
"I don't need a warrant to break in," Neal mumbled to Jones.
"Well, this Neal Caffrey does," Peter said, overhearing. "That's it for now."
People filed out, but Neal lingered. When he and Peter were alone, he approached.
"After we left my apartment last night, Sara and I were followed." What had happened had been nagging his mind. None of them were unused to being followed, but this meeting could not leave his mind.
Peter frowned.
"Any suspects?"
"Adler. I think he put a tail on Sara. Everyone who's looked into him, Mozzie, Kate, They all got hurt."
"Where is she now?"
"At the archives," Neal said. "I'm meeting her there."
"Good idea," Peter nodded. "Stay close to her. All right, but for my break-in, I'm gonna need some training."
Those were words Neal never thought he would hear from Peter. And certainly not in the same sentence with exactly the meaning he now conveyed.
Wow.
He could arrange training alright. He grinned and patted Peter's arm on his way out.
"I got you covered."
He took his hat and left for the archives to meet Sara. On the way, he phoned Mozzie.
"Do you want me arrested?" his friend asked when he had told him about Peter's need for a trainer.
"Just don't take his wallet, and you'll do fine, Moz."
"He's a Suit!"
"Yeah, and you're an expert on picking locks and stealing wallets."
"Anything less would be a shame. Alright. Your place in an hour."
Peter opened the door to Neal's apartment after being home and changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
"Ah, my pupil has arrived," Mozzie said, rising from the table. Peter sighed. He knew that the short guy knew everything he needed to know to do this break-in, but he had a hunch that handling this man would be just as difficult as learning the art of crime.
Mozzie pulled something from his pocket and placed it on his open palm.
"Take the pebble from my palm."
Peter stared.
"Seriously? Kung Fu?"
"I'm preparing you for your mission!"
Peter was not about to waste time on irrelevant exercises. His face must have said as much because Neal's friend put the pebble back in his pocket.
"Okay. Give me twenty dollars," he said instead. Peter felt he was about to leave. "Look, do you want my help or not?" He gave in and took a twenty from his wallet and handed it over. Mozzie took it. "Lesson 1: we take. We don't give. Now, moving on—"
"Give me my twenty back, or I'm gonna arrest you."
"Oh, you're gonna be a very difficult student," the short guy replied, unmoved, without giving back the money. "Look at these," he continued at pointed at a set of six door locks mounted on the same piece of wood. "Before we're done, you'll know how to open them all."
Peter was glad he had not brought his professional Southord-case of lock picks. He had never gotten past the basics.
"Most lock-picking can be done because the mechanisms aren't perfect," Mozzie began and showed him a cylinder lock in clear plastic. "See these pegs? They come in the right position when you put the key inside, see? You use the lock's imperfection to move the pegs with your pick and keep them in place."
"I can pick an ordinary padlock," Peter said, wanting to move on.
"Suit, you surprise me."
"It's part of the FBI training."
Mozzie pointed at the top door lock on the table.
"Then use what you've learned on that."
Peter sighed and sat down. He took the lockpicks on the table and got started.
"Hum, Suit, this is not the kind of job where you want to leave your fingerprints behind."
There were black leather gloves on the table. Peter put them on and started over. He felt the pegs moving with his pick, but that was about it. Then after gritting the teeth for some time, the lock turned like butter.
"Well done, Suit. Next."
Peter did. After what felt like hours, he had learned how two more locks worked.
"Okay, listen up, sausage fingers. We don't have all day," Mozzie said when there was a knock on the door. "Oh, our guest speaker."
"Hello, there," June said, entering with something over her arm. "How's he doing?"
"We'll come back to the lock-picking later." Mozzie rose, and Peter did as well.
June unfolded what she had brought, and it was a suit jacket with bells hanging all over it. She put it on one of those mannequin dolls, which was just a torso that Mozzie must have brought there before.
"Byron would be so thrilled to know his training jacket is back in the game," she said. "Are you teaching him to run a cross?"
"Scratch on a dip," the short guy replied.
"With the farmer's pants?"
"Neal wants to run a bird dog."
"Oh," June shrugged. "He's a fed."
Peter being quite taller than both of them, could not say that they spoke over his head, but he sure felt on the back foot. Neither was he sure if they were serious or just pulling his leg.
"Can we move on with this?" he asked.
"Uh, yes. Now, your first task is to drop a bug into Stanzler's jacket." Mozzie held up a flat button battery and then dropped it in the pocket of the suit with the bells. "So your little evil empire friends in the van can listen in on him while you fumble rough the house."
"Do we need a commentary?"
"Yes. But dropping the bug isn't the hard part. Retrieving it is. Without jingling the bells."
Mozzie took a step back, and Peter understood it was his turn. He slid his palm elegantly down into the pocket. He felt the battery and the bells jingled. Peter sighed and pulled out his hand.
"Again."
Peter tried another approach. Now the jingle came even sooner.
"This is impossible," Peter huffed.
Mozzie sent him a glance, stepped up to the figure, and waved his hand. Then, looking at Peter, two fingers went down in the pocket, and then he stood with the 'bug' between his index and long finger. And not a sound from any bells.
Peter was amazed. So fast and smooth.
"Understatement is the key," Mozzie said, smiling.
"These two fingers, like tweezers," June showed him. "So that the thumb will never touch the mark."
Peter held his hand as hers and saw the elegance in it. He placed himself beside the dummy as Mozzie and tried. It took him too long, but those bells stayed quiet.
"Well done, Suit. Again. And now drop the bug as well."
Ten, or if it was twenty, times later, Peter felt more relaxed about it. Knowing what to do and knowing he could do it raised his confidence. But this was a dummy, a doll. He had the guts to steal from a lonely jacket.
As if Neal's funny friend read his mind, he put a suit jacket on.
"Now, drop the bug and pick it up again." Peter made his maneuvers, but Mozzie shook his head. "Again."
The sun was setting.
"Last chance, Suit." Mozzie crossed his arms. "Some of us go to work at night."
June gave him an encouraging look. Alright. Peter walked casually around Mozzie.
"Like this?" he asked when he placed his hand in the pocket.
"You didn't drop the bug." Mozzie sounded surprised.
"No, I didn't. I decided to practice one more lift." Peter showed him the twenty he had taken back. And with a magic trick, he made it look like it had disappeared.
Mozzie's smile was big and proud.
"You've learned all I have to teach you. You, Peter Burke, are ready to commit a crime."
