Elisabeth pays a visit

They had been doing minor cases in the office for a few days. Peter did not mind to keep to regular office hours for once, but Neal appeared to be utterly bored. He sat on the other side of Peter's desk leaning his head in his hand, staring at the papers with vacant eyes. Papers that were upside down from his point of view.

Peter mimicked Neal's pose but glared at him instead, waiting for a reaction. It did not come.

"What are you thinking?" Peter asked at last.

Neal raised his eyes and met his.

"I'm thinking it was the accountant, in the law office."

So he had not been that vacant after all.

"With the illegal wire transfer." It made sense.

"Either that or Colonel Mustard in the library," Neal said as if he was dead serious.

"We can pull prints on the candlestick," Peter agreed. "Let's grab his company's financial records from last year. They're on file."

He watched Neal, waiting. The kid saw his face and looked surprised.

"You want me to do it?" he asked.

Peter nodded.

"We have clerks for that," Neal objected.

"I got something better. I got you."

"Okay." Neal rose and left without objections. Impressive. It was about time his protegé learned to find his way around the files. Even better if he learned to ask for help.

Neal walked along the shelves with box files labeled with codes that did not mean anything to him. What was he supposed to do? He noted that Lauren turned up for some material and Neal made an effort to look like he knew what he was doing among the files.

"Sticking around, huh?" he asked. She had been called over to keep an eye on him on the party where they hoped to catch Ghovat. And then she had just stayed.

"Yeah."

She pulled a document out of a box like she knew exactly where to look for it.

"Hey, is it true you once sent champagne to a surveillance van?"

"That's the rumor," he replied. "Been checking up on me?"

"You were part of my thesis at Quantico."

"Really? How did we do?"

"Ninety-four."

Gee, she did find the documents she needed with speed. Neal gave up to do this on his own and turned the charm. The woman had always done her best to act like a mature FBI agent but did little else than appear like a teenage girl in great need to act like an ice cube in his presence.

"Not bad. Find anything interesting?"

"Truth or rumor?"

"Is there a difference?"

"The counterfeit certificates were your only conviction. But you're implicated in at least a dozen confidence schemes, frauds, and forgeries."

It was no secret. If that was all she came up with she had a long way to go.

"Is that why you asked to be reassigned to the White Collar Unit?"

"I wasn't gonna pass up a chance to work with someone I've admired since college."

"Play your cards right, we'll make a case or two," he beamed at her.

"Oh, honey. I was talking about Agent Burke. He caught you twice, right?"

Poor girl, with the need to appear superior like that. She was as far as she could be from the man she admired. Neal, however, knew very well who he was and why he was there. And prison had taught him not be humiliated that easy.

"Hey, maybe you can help me because I'm looking for some records."

"Yeah? We got clerks for that."

And he was alone again. Well, they had clerks but he had a brain at now it had suddenly turned interesting to use it again. He checked the boxes Lauren had picked her documents from. He knew what cases she was working with. These things were no secrets. And now he knew the codes for the boxes and from there he could figure out the system.

Jones walked into his office.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Your wife's here."

Peter's head bounced up.

"She's not alone."

Peter rose and walked to the door, scanned out into the office. There she was. With her friend Dana.

"She looks upset to you?" Peter asked.

"No, they look- They both look upset," Jones expressed his sympathies. "You know, a buddy of mine, he always kept a separate cell phone. One for the wife, one for the girlfriend. It helps avoid this kind of crossover."

"That's not my girlfriend, okay? I don't have a girlfriend. It's El's friend, Dana. They've known each other since high school." Elisabeth left her friend on a chair by Neal's empty desk and walked up to him.

"Hi, honey," Peter greeted her.

"We need to talk."

"Okay. Thanks, Jones. That'll be all." Jones left and Peter made a gesture towards his visitor's chair.

"Have a seat, honey." He walked around his desk and swung down in his chair. Only to realize El was still standing. He bounced up again. "So why is Dana here? Is she okay?"

"No. It's actually about her husband, John."

"Hot-wings guy," Peter confirmed and got an odd look from Elisabeth. "Remember, he made those hot wings at the barbecue, the Cooper barbecue a while back?"

"Right, him."

"He was stationed overseas," Peter remembered.

"He finished last month."

"What's the problem?"

"This morning the FBI issued a warrant for his arrest." Oh, that kind of problem. He sat down and turned towards his computer.

"All right, what's the last name?"

"Mitchell."

Peter did not miss the tone of rebuke for him not knowing John's and Dana's last name.

"Mitchell," he repeated when he typed. "What happened?"

"Some stolen gold in a storage shed. They think he brought it. Dana came to me for help. She has no idea why he's a suspect."

Peter stared at the information that appeared on the screen.

"Think I do."

"Well, what is it?"

"It's gold artifacts from Iraq. Got his prints all over the place. Hair evidence. El, this doesn't look good."

Neal flung the door open.

"Found that file—" He halted in the middle, file in his hand, realizing what he had stepped right into. "This can wait."

"No," Elisabeth stopped him. "Neal, come in." Peter watched Neal obediently sitting down on the other visitor's chair beside El.

"Now, Neal, just because someone's accused of doing something that doesn't mean that that person is guilty, right?" she prompted. Neal shrugged.

"Define guilty." He smiled as if he wanted to dodge the seriousness of the question.

"You think he's the best person to ask?" Peter pointed out.

"Neal?" Elisabeth insisted.

"I suppose it's possible."

"See? That's what I thought," his wife stated as if it proved anything.

Peter read through the information on the screen.

"This says 'whereabouts unknown.' Is he on the run?"

"He's at his brother's," Elisabeth told him. "I didn't know the address."

Peter sighed. What had his beloved El got involved in?

"If you're keeping information, that's aiding and abetting!"

Neal rose from his seat.

"Okay… I think I grabbed the wrong file. I'm gonna get the right one."

"No, stay," Peter ordered. Neal sunk back on the seat. "My turn. If we have your prints and hair on the scene and you're on the run, are you guilty?"

"Oh, now he's the best person to ask?" Elisabeth protested. Neal met his eyes. Peter did not feel at all sorry for bringing Neal into this. Wife or not, this was the job. Neal turned to Elisabeth.

"I think your friend should turn himself in."

Peter fought to hide a proud smile.

"I completely agree with you" Elisabeth nodded. "That's why I told Dana to tell him what to do. Turn himself in."

"So he is turning himself in?" Peter asked.

"Yes," she confirmed. "He's gonna be turning himself in to you."

It felt like a sledgehammer down on him. Wife's friend's husband. Too close for comfort. Peter's eyes searched Neal's for some form of reassurance in this miserable situation. Well, Neal's presence reminded him he would be able to put the kid back in prison if needed.

"Alright," he told El. "Arrange it and call me when he's outside."

"I will." She rose and smiled at him. "See you later, hon. Neal."

"Yeah." He watched her leave. "Great."

"You can cuff me if you have to," Neal pointed out, reading Peter's expression. "What's the difference?"

"I knew you as a criminal first." He did not know John that well, but his wife knew John's wife. This could turn out to be one heck of a mess.

The woman Neal had been told was John's wife Dana gave Peter a hug when they came out.

"Peter, thank you." She left for the approaching car.

"God, do I feel guilty," Peter told Neal. "You think he did it?"

Neal read in the file.

"Artifacts from the royal cemetery crypts of Ur in Egypt 1 000-year-old gold. A lot of money is always a lot of motive," Neal replied. Peter could be putting away the guy for a lot of years. "That's a shame. Apparently, he melted some of it down."

John stepped out of the car and hugged his wife, and then Elisabeth.

Neal followed Peter who approached the guy with the cuffs in his hands.

"John."

"Peter." He looked calm and composed, Neal noted. "I didn't do this. It was set up." A prepared answer without saying anything about its honesty.

"Your prints were all over the gold, John."

"My prints?" He appeared to be utterly surprised by this as if it was unexpected news. It was as if he hesitated if he would surrender or not. Peter must have sensed the same.

"I gotta—"

John seemed to make up his mind.

"Listen, please. Look, my lawyer said I shouldn't say a word. When I was overseas, a guy asked me to help him bring some goods to the States. I said no."

"John—"

"His name's Aimes. Patrick Aimes. He's in the State Department. Just look into it. Please." Peter nodded.

"I will."

John held out his hands and Peter cuffed him. Neal got shivers from the first time he got cuffed, in Italy. He had been bold and escaped then. He also noted something missing. John could not have melted down the gold.