Work on Saturday

Neal had still not been able to get rid of that cold lump he had in his body. He was used to playing dangerous games but now he had Tara involved. She was an innocent victim and he had no right to use her. For years he had been surrounded by people playing his game. If he asked them to take part in something they knew what they agreed to. Not so with Tara.

An FBI agent just finished searching fingerprints on the phone. It was packed in a sealed evidence bag.

"Nothing on the phone. It's a burner," Peter growled. "You can pick up one of these at any corner deli. Prints?"

"It's clean," the agent concluded and packed his equipment. "No other fingerprints than your consultant's." Lauren sighed.

Neal would have been surprised if they had found anything. They were talking about the Ghost, a criminal who had been active longer than he, but spread his crimes all over the world. They were also fewer but larger than anything Neal had ever done. FBI's list of Neal's crimes – alleged – during the three years they had chased him was hard to beat when it came to amount and skill, but not when it came to value in money.

Jones hurried into the room.

"Agent Burke?"

"What's up?" Peter asked.

"We had two plain clothes taking Tara home. Somebody got to them about a half hour ago."

Neal felt that cold lump spread into his body again. Peter banged down the file he was holding onto the table in frustration.

"Got to them how?"

"Blasted the car to hell. Fortunately, our guys were wearing vests." Agents had this as a job. It was a good thing they made it but Ghovat had not had them as his target.

"What about Tara?" Neal wanted to know.

"They grabbed her. Got away clean." So she made it at least. But now she was in the hands of a murderer.

Something buzzed.

They all halted and located where it came from. The phone on the table. The one from Ghovat. Neal exchanged a look with Peter who nodded. Neal grabbed the bag and pulled. At first, it felt like the plastic would not budge but then he tore a hole in it, yanking the phone out.

He answered the call but there was no need to say anything. Ghovat was no man of pleasantries.

"I have your girl. What's the dress worth to you now?"

Neal felt his heart thump inside his body. He met the eyes of Peter. He must have understood the message because he gestured for Jones and Lauren and they hurried out.

He heard the man in the other end of the phone breathe. Neal put the phone down on the table.

"So now what?"

The two agents returned with a laptop and a microphone.

"You want the girl, I want the dress," Ghovat's voice hissed in the room through the phone.

"Trade?" He exchanged a look with Peter, searching for advice. "Where and when?"

"I'm not interested in meeting with you."

"Then who?"

"Agent Peter Burke," Ghovat replied, putting emphasis on every single word. What? Neal had been there under a fake name.

"Why him?"

"Because it's really the FBI that holds the dress. And your real name is Neal Caffrey, is it not? Do you think I'm stupid? I saw you at the party, remember? And Neal Caffrey works for the FBI now. So stop wasting my time. Is he there now?"

Neal exchanged a desperate look with Peter.

"It's for you."

"This is Burke."

Neal sat down. It was far better to let Peter handle this. He had the experience on his side. Neal had done little more than wasting money and put innocent people at risk.

"I'm sure you heard everything earlier," Ghovat continued.

"You want me to make the exchange," Peter summed it up.

"That's right. I won't waste my time telling you to come alone. Just make sure to bring the real dress."

"If it's not, are you going to make me eat it?"

"That's funny. Keep this phone on you. You'll meet me at the Central Park Bandshell tomorrow afternoon at four PM. Plenty of time for you to get your men into position."

The call was ended.

It was as if the air was sucked out of the room and they all sagged from the sudden tension.

"Alright, let's go home everyone," Peter said. "It's late and we have, as he said, plenty of time until the exchange tomorrow. Nothing more we can do now."

Peter joined Neal was they left office. The kid always walked unless Peter gave him a ride. This day Peter had walked to work too.

"You okay?" he asked Neal. Peter was pretty sure he was not. Even if Neal had a criminal background he was non-violent and had probably no experience of hostage situations.

"No, not really," Neal replied and Peter almost smiled. The kid had not just shrugged but given a straight and honest answer. Peter also got the feeling Neal showed him that he forgave him for the pat-down blunder. To voluntarily expose a vulnerable side was not something Neal would have done if he had kept the distance he had shown in the car.

"It's natural. Want to talk about it?" Peter offered.

"No thank you, Doctor Freud. I already know why."

"Is it because of Tara?" Peter pried.

"You have to let me go to the exchange," Neal insisted. "It's my fault Tara's in trouble. I'm the one who paraded her around town in the dress."

True, but it was not your call, Peter thought. It was a good thing Neal took responsibility but he could not feel guilty every time something went wrong.

"Neal, we are a team. You didn't decide on your own to bring Tara in it. And Tara agreed to, remember?"

"Yes, but… I…"

"You charmed her to it?" Peter filled in. Neal nodded. He could not blame Neal for feeling guilty about that part. He knew what Neal was capable of. "Best thing you can do is help me figure out what Ghovat's game plan is. He knows we're going to have the place staked out."

"He knows you're running your playbook," Neal agreed.

"Right, so we're going to toss the old one, come up with a new one."

"No, no, you don't," Neal objected. "That's the point. See, he's counting on the FBI to have a plan."

"So I do nothing?"

"Roll with it."

"Like you would." Well, he was not Neal the con-man. He was an FBI agent representing more than himself. He could not waltz into a hostage situation without a plan.

"He expects you to have a plan, don't have one," Neal tried to convince him.

"Well, that's the worse idea ever."

"Prepare all you can, just know it's all going to change," Neal explained. It made sense in a way. But how could you prepare when you knew so few parameters?

"What would you do?" Peter asked. Neal gave him a long, honest look and Peter had time to think that what had started as him supporting Neal had now turned the other way around.

"Go home and have dinner with my wife," Neal assured him. He had probably right. Elisabeth would do miracles with his nerves.

They split and continued each in their own direction.

Neal had once again amazed Peter. He had felt bad about the situation with Tara but he could deal with it on his own and did not seem nervous at all. Peter, on the other hand, felt nervous for tomorrow. No, he was afraid. He had the training and the experience, Neal had not, but he figured it was not what caused Neal to be calm while Peter himself was terrified.

The training made Peter able to do his job in spite of his emotions. Peter had met Neal when he was afraid and he was not that good at handling it. Neal found comfort in preparing, learning and then 'roll with it' as he had called it. Dump him in an unknown territory, like when Peter arrested him for the first time, and you might just as well pull the rug under his feet, just as it was for most people. So Neal made sure to always be as prepared as possible.

It had been relaxing to mull over Neal instead of the case at hand. Ghovat did not cross his mind until he stepped over his doorstep. He was late for dinner of course. El did not say a word about it, just kissed him and hugged him.

Once he had had some leftovers in the kitchen they sat down on the sofa with a glass of wine and Peter told her everything.

"You meet this guy in Central Park, and you give him the dress and he gives you the gi,l." El concluded.

"That's about the size of it."

"I'm really glad you got into the White Collar Crime Division where nothing exciting happens."

"It's pretty dull stuff." They chuckled together. How he loved this woman.

"Yeah," El agreed. "Um, I got you another present."

Peter felt he got pale.

"Honey, not another one. I-I-I'm enjoying my first one, don't-"

Elisabeth brings out the same maroon box his new watch had come in. She opened it and Peter stared.

"It's my old watch," he exclaimed delightedly. Too delighted he realized. "But I-I-I love my new one."

"Come on, Honey, it's big, it's bulky, it moves around your wrist and… I mean it's beautiful, but it's not you." His beloved wife smiled at him. She had seen what he had felt. "Take this. I need you to be Agent Peter Burke tomorrow. And this… this is you." Peter mused at the feeling of his real watch on his wrist.

"Besides…" El continued. "When all this is over with, I need you home at six o'clock right on the dot."

"Thank you."

It was Saturday but the conference room was crowded and dead silent as Hughes briefed the team.

"Now, Ghovat wants the dress because it's been tagged with a security device," he went on. "We cracked the thread this morning. It's holding the holographic code of the latest European currency seal. We're using a counterfeit code. We're hoping he won't be able to tell the difference, but if he does, this could go south fast."

Peter did not like it.

"We're putting this girl's life at risk." A girl that would be his responsibility as he was doing the exchanged.

"We could put the entire monetary system of Europe at risk. Guess who wins," Hughes replied and exchanged a look with Peter. His boss did not like it either, but it was not his call. "I'll be running point, we'll have eyes in the air, plain clothes on the ground. Cruz, Jones, you're with me. Burke, you know what you gotta do."

Neal put his hand up.

"Caffrey, put your hand down," Hughes barked. "Put it down!"

"I'm just wondering where I'll be," Neal asked.

"On a coffee run. You're not even supposed to be here!" Peter sighed and throw on eye on Neal. The kid did at least not object. "Any questions? Then let's get into position."

Peter lingered as Neal remained by the table.

"Are you okay with this?" he wanted to know. Neal beamed at him.

"Don't worry about me, Peter."

Did he hide that he was hurt, or did he plan to disobey Hughes? Peter could not tell, but he was certain Neal would not do anything risking Tara's life.

"Good." He pattered Neal on the shoulder and left. He needed to get to the meeting spot and stay focused.

Neal strolled up to the municipal van and knocked on the door at the back.

"Can I come in?"

The door opened and Hughes stared at him.

"Get in here!" Neal was happy to oblige that order "Close the door."

For a second Neal wondered if there was any room for him in there. Desks with computers along each wall, four people already inside. Jones grinned but was soon focused at his work again. Neal maneuvered himself through the van to a free corner at the other end.

He saw Peter and Lauren on a screen filmed by a hidden camera. Peter was carrying the dress in a clothes-cover. Lauren was dressed as a jogger and was stretching.

It did not take many minutes for Neal to feel uncomfortably close to panicking. A solitary cell was never packed with people but the van felt as such never the less. Both were small boxes with no windows. The others had no time to bother about his sudden, and probably unwelcome, appearance. He could leave and they would not care less. But Neal was determined to do what he could to help Tara.

They heard Peter's phone ring.

"You're right on time," Peter answered. They could not hear what Ghovat was saying though.

"Well, that's one thing we have in common." Peter's eyes wandered over the park "I don't see you."

Then they heard Cruz voice:

"He's signaling us. Five five five, three one four seven."

"He's giving us Ghovat's incoming phone number," Hughes told them. "Get me a trace."

"Yep, I'm on it," Jones replied at once.

"Good, Peter," Neal said to himself.

"How do I know you have the girl?" Peter asked Ghovat. "I wanna hear her voice."

There was a pause and then Tara's voice was heard.

"Agent Burke?"

"Tara, are you okay?" But he got no reply. Then Ghovat returned.

"Bethesda Fountain. That's three hundred yards. You've got one minute. If I see any of your agents or unmarked vehicles move, the girl's dead. Your time starts… now."

Peter found his bearings and ran. He waved for the agents and yelled at them to stay, to hold their positions. He flew down the stairs and ran through the decorated passage under the terrace and reached the fountain. He scanned the area. Where was Ghovat? Peter was unprotected and tired, and easy target.

Ghovat rose from a bench with Tara.

"Go get the dress," he ordered her and she hurried across the area between her kidnapper and Peter. "If you'll notice, Agent Burke, I've added a little fashion accessory of my own to our model friend here. The belt is lined with plastique. I dial a number here, and she goes boom." Peter felt Tara's grip around his arm tightened.

"Give her the dress," Ghovat ordered and Peter obeyed. "Toss it." Tara threw the dress across to Ghovat. "Please don't try anything. I have five bars and free long distance. I can be far away and still cause you pain." He turned and walked away.

"Let him walk. Even if he's bluffing, we can't take the chance," he heard Hughes voice in his ear.

Neal's mind raced. How to stop Ghovat without risking Tara's life? Five bars… Phone! He took out his phone and dialed the number Peter had given them. It rang and someone took the call.

"Yes?" Ghovat's voice.

"Hey, is this Steve?" Four pairs of eyes in the van turned towards him staring. "What's up, buddy? You never call."

Ghovat hung up.

"All right, keep calling," he told the others in the van. Neal dived for the door. "Jam his phone, so he can't trigger the bomb. Keep calling him."

"Cruz. Stay with Caffrey," he heard Hughes say in his mic. "Everybody else, keep dialing. Jam the phone. Jam the phone. Keep calling him."

Neal ran to the fountain where Peter and Tara stood.

"Hey. We're jamming his call. Get the belt off of her." He continued past them. "Do it. Do it."

He saw the back of Ghovat with the package over his arm.

"Hey, Steve!" he called out. Ghovat turned and pulled a gun at him.

"Now what?" Ghovat asked, knowing Neal had nothing more to offer. Neal knew the man was capable of shooting. Guns were capable of to much death and damage with too little effort. He wanted to say something witty but terror took the best of him.

Then Lauren rammed Ghovat from behind with full force and wrestled him to the ground, cuffing him quicker than Neal thought was possible. Neal stared at her. He had never seen her as a person capable of handling an armed man all by herself.

"That was pretty damn charming," he beamed at her.

Then he heard Peter yell for people to get down. Neal winked to Lauren and jogged down to his handler and deliver the good news. He found him laying on the ground, protecting Tara. The belt lay on the ground at least twenty feet away. People in the park kept their distance, but could not keep from staying and see what would happen.

"Wow!" Neal grinned. "You're actually doing the hero thing."

Neal offered Peter a hand and he rose from the ground and helped Tara to her feet.

"Yeah," he agreed. "They're gonna write songs about this."

"Nice."

"You okay?" Peter asked Tara who nodded.

"Area's contained. Bomb squad's on the way," an agent called out.

"I swept the leg. He went down," Neal boasted to Tara.

"He did? Excellent," Peter mused and looked him up and down. "You don't look dirty." Neal grinned. He had no intention to fool Peter in the first place. His handler was well aware of Neal's inability to fight.

"Yeah, well, I know what I'm doing." He gave Tara a hug.

Later Hughes joined them. He gave Neal a stern look and he expected a reprimand.

"Good work, Caffrey."