Dinner plans

"To history, old and new," Neal declared and raised his glass to Maria across the table.

"How does an FBI agent get a table here?" she asked. "It's, like, a six-month wait."

It was an exclusive restaurant, but small and intimate. Just the right place to impress her and send a message, Neal figured.

"Oh, an FBI agent doesn't," he beamed at her. "Don't forget I had a previous life."

"Oh, yeah. Do you believe in reincarnation?"

"You could say that. How about you? Who were you in your previous life?"

"Same person I've always been, with '90s hair."

"I doubt that." An idea crossed his mind. "Let me see your lifeline."

Maria shook her head.

"No."

"Come on," Neal begged. "It'll help fill in the blanks."

"You're not seriously gonna read my palm right now, are you?"

She laughed but offered him her left hand, palm up. He took it both of his, stroke the skin with his thumbs.

"Oh, calluses," he noted. "Not afraid to get dirty."

Maria nodded.

"Well, that's true. What else?"

"No ring. Between that and the calluses, I'm guessing work gets in the way."

She did not reply to that, but freed her hand and took his.

"No ring for you either," she pointed out.

"No. Prison got in the way." No need to lie about that.

Maria folded her hands under her chin and studied him.

"So it must be weird for you working for the FBI."

"I don't know. It's always interesting to read from the other team's playbook."

"The other team? I thought you were out of the game."

"Oh, I am," he assured her with a tone none of them believed. "Retired and rehabilitated."

She watched him across the rim of her wine glass.

"Have you found your missing Bible?"

"Not yet." He leaned forward. "You know anyone who wants to buy one?" he whispered.

"Maybe. Looters approach me all the time," she smiled. "So do buyers. It's a very attractive offer."

"It sure is."

He had Maria interested alright. She handed him the menu.

"Surprise me."

"Oh, you sure? I might order something you don't like and then where will we be?"

"I trust you. After all, you work for the FBI."

A huge hint she did not trust him since he worked for the FBI.

"More wine?" he asked.

"Now you read minds?"

Neal looked deeply into her eyes.

"The question is, do you?"

Neal followed Maria inside her house. He had kept her away for an hour as requested by Peter, but barely more than that. He hoped it had been enough.

"Some wine?" she asked and Neal saw she had two glasses and a bottle prepared.

"Why not?"

"So, what shall we talk about?"

"There's this story about these two spies," Neal began. "A French duke and an Italian count. They're sworn enemies who spent the whole year trying to trick each other. But on New Year's Eve, they got to ask one question the other had to answer truthfully."

Maria had taken the bottle and the glasses to the desk and stood with her back to him.

"Yes. The trick was asking the right question because you may never get another chance."

"I've always said honesty is a more challenging game."

Now was the time to make her reveal if and where she had the Bible.

"This wine needs to breathe." She turned to him, bottle in hand. "I'm gonna get a decanter. Why don't you put some music on?"

She left the room with efficient speed. Neal did not miss that she left the room with a poor excuse. Did she want to test him by leaving him alone or did she want to check something up? He walked towards the stereo passing the place where the two glasses still waited. A vase with various pens and brushes had been moved. He could see the rim of dust-free space beside the vase when it should have been under the bottom of it. Oh, great, now she knew someone had been there.

He saw she preferred old-fashioned LP records. He took one and turned around, scanning the room carefully. There was a security camera, alright.

"What are you in the mood for?" he called, knowing he was watched.

"Oh, you know…" she replied from somewhere inside the house.

"Surprise you."

He picked a record with romantic classics.

Maria returned and served them wine.

"While you wait to find your missing Bible, would you like to see another medieval Bible?" she asked, smiling, flirting.

She fetched a big book and opened it on the desk.

"It's fantastic" Neal mused at the excellent artwork.

"It took the monks ten years to finish a Bible. Writing every letter by hand, word by word."

"Ten years painting the same Bible. Stalking God."

"If it weren't for the monks' devotion we would've lost one of the most significant works of Greek literature forever."

Neal pulled himself from the beautiful pages and tried to appear bored.

"It's stunning."

"I agree," Maria replied and moved closer, eating him with her eyes. She moved in for a kiss. But she paused just an inch from this lips.

"You know what?" she whispered. "I don't trust you."

"Smart. I wouldn't trust me either."

"Let's play the spies' game. I'll ask you a question."

Oh God, was she tempting and inviting and still out of reach.

"I have to tell you the truth?"

"And you have to tell me the truth."

"Okay. Make it a good one."

"Which Neal Caffrey are you? Are you working for the good guys? Or are you working a bigger game?"

Neal did not answer. He looked at the vase. He knew he would not be able to lie. If he said he was on her side, wanting to buy the Bible, and convinced her, he would convince the FBI too.

A block away stood a municipal van where Peter, Jones, and Lauren had listen to Neal and Maria with the hope to hear something vital about the Bible's whereabouts. The last minute they had heard nothing but a mumble from the both of them. Though Lauren had speculated about technical problems Peter was pretty certain it was not of the kind his fellow agent had in mind.

Then they heard a crackle and it went silent.

"What happened?" Lauren asked.

"Neal happened," Peter sighed.

Damn kid! He hoped all there was to it was Neal proving for Maria Fiametta he did not work for the FBI. The worst about it was that Neal would tell him the truth about the meeting and there would be no way to tell if there was more to it. They probably made some sort of deal, Neal and their Cindiana Jones, including the Bible. It did not mean that Neal would not take it and run when the had the chance. The problem was that without a recording of their meeting, Neal would be a target for any suspicions if this went wrong for any other reason.

Neal had picked up the bug he guessed was in the vase and dropped it in his wine glass.

"That answer your question?" he asked.

"Maybe."

"Feds linked Barelli's Bible to Paul Ignazio and you to Paul through his visits to the college. Look, Maria. I'm living proof if the feds want something from you they'll turn your life inside out to get it. They'll tell Barelli you have his book."

"Even if I don't?"

Neal took her hand and placed it on top of the Bible they looked at together.

"I can get you 250,000 in two days." It was the sum Peter had told him to offer. More than that was not within reason for the FBI and also what was possible that a con-man like him, in his position, could afford.

"It is worth a lot more than that."

"Not if you're in prison or dead," Neal pointed out. "Between the FBI and the mob, there's no way you can move it. I can."

"The other team's playbook." Maria considered. "If I shouldn't risk it, why are you? Won't they send you back for good?"

Neal showed her the anklet.

"I'm already in prison. We have a deal?"

She grinned.