"Our guy seems to be leading a pretty boring life, Finch," Reese observed aloud. He was seated on a park bench in a quiet, slightly run-down part of the city. There were a few people strolling down the sidewalk, a woman throwing a ball for her small terrier, and a group of kids shooting hoops in a small basketball court off to the side. Busy with mid-morning traffic, the road ran just a few feet past Reese, right on the other side of the sidewalk.

Taking another sip of coffee, Reese settled back against his bench. A jogger ran past him, but he just glanced at her before turning his gaze back across the street, where a shopping center occupied the whole of the block. The storefront catercorner from Reese's seat was holding his attention, the large yellow sign above its doors clearly stating what could be found inside the store. 'Kiernan Discount Drugs' was inscribed in large blue letters, and the hours of operation were painted on one of the glass doors - doors which Reese noted didn't stay closed for longer than half an hour at any given time.

"Business seems to be booming for Kiernan."

Finch's voice came over the earpiece Reese was wearing. "I can tell. While you've been keeping an eye on our guy, I've been looking through his bank and credit card statements. He's never missed a payment since his shop took off… about six months after he started it. Plenty of money in his nightly deposits; it would seem that rising healthcare costs have improved Kiernan's business immensely."

Reese tilted his head as he considered the information. "That makes sense. A lot of people don't have the cash on hand to buy everything they need."

"Cutting corners is the only way some people can obtain certain things," Finch added. "It's unfortunate, but it happens more often than one might think."

"I got that feeling when I went in there a few minutes ago," Reese said in agreement. At Finch's grunt of annoyance, Reese raised an eyebrow. "Well, I can't bluejack his phone from this park bench."

Finch sighed. "No, I should think not. You didn't compromise your identity in the process, did you?"

"You mean did I make Kiernan suspicious in any way?" Reese clarified. "No, I don't think so. He was busy helping another customer. I just browsed that same aisle until I was close enough to get a signal. He didn't even see me."

"Well we can be thankful for that," the other man observed. "The last thing we need is to spook Kiernan by making him think something's up before we've identified the crisis."

"Anything suspicious in Kiernan's finances?" Reese changed the subject.

There was a faint clicking of keys over the line as Finch continued with his computer search. "Not particularly," he replied slowly. "There are variations in the amounts that he's putting into his account after each business day, but that's only to be expected in a job like this. Nothing is ever quite certain in terms of profits, and with differing numbers of customers - as well as types and quantities of pharmaceuticals sold - these deposits make perfect sense. Other than that…" he trailed off.

Reese waited patiently, knowing his partner was most likely examining new information.

"Other than that, there's nothing of note," Finch finished. "It would seem that if Kiernan is up to something, he's keeping it off the books."

"Well that's not going to help me head off any threats," Reese commented, his attention pulling away from the store for just a moment as he tossed his cup in a nearby garbage can. It hit the side with a muffled thud, then dropped on top of the can's other contents. "If I'm going to stop this guy from killing someone or being killed himself, I'm going to need something to go on, Finch."

Finch did not sound amused as he responded, "I'm working on it, Mr. Reese. In the meantime, why don't you give the lovely Detective Carter a call? Ask her to look into any criminal history Kiernan may have. I'll go through Kiernan's phone records, see if there's anything questionable there."

"I'll do it from the road," Reese replied, standing. "Looks like Kiernan is finally on the move."

Eliot stood on the street corner, watching the passersby as nonchalantly as possible and adjusting his round glasses with one hand. In his other hand, he held a square white box. "Are we good to go, Hardison?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yeah, man," Hardison replied. "I hacked into Smith's online calendar and set you up an appointment. All you gotta do is march in there and wow the man with your cupcake powers."

"I don't have cupcake powers, Hardison," Eliot snapped.

"You don't - Fine. You know what? Fine," Hardison shot back. "You don't have cupcake powers. But your alter ego for the time being does. And that box in your hand says differently anyways."

"This box in my hand is only here because -"

"Uh, guys," Nate's voice cut into their conversation. "Eliot's going to be late for this meeting you set up if he doesn't get in there."

Eliot huffed a sigh at being interrupted but started towards the office building in front of him. "Yeah, fine." He entered the building and glanced around to take in the small lobby. There wasn't much beyond a security desk to the right of the door, a bank of elevators on the far side of the room, and an office directory on the wall next to the elevators.

"Sir," the security guard stationed at the desk greeted Eliot. "Mind if I scan that?" he nodded at the box.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Eliot shrugged. "Go ahead."

"As long as you didn't bake a file into your cake, you're fine," Hardison's voice came over the earpiece again. "Now, once they finish up, head up to Smith's office. It's on the fourth floor, suite 403."

Nodding to the guard, who had just finished waving his wand over and around the box, Eliot retrieved his package and strode to the elevators.

"Oh, and Eliot? Don't forget to turn on the charm," Hardison advised.

Eliot punched the correct button and waited as the doors slid closed. "Next time, you be the cupcake man and see how much charm you turn on."

"Tsk, tsk," Hardison chided. "Charm, Eliot, charm. You ain't gonna win any friends with this whole sour persona you've adopted."

The elevator had reached its destination, so Eliot just ignored the voice in his ear as he approached the correct office. There was a receptionist desk just inside the office's door, and Eliot smiled at the young woman who looked up at his approach. "Good mornin', ma'am." His usual Southern accent was more pronounced than usual, and he had adopted a nervous demeanor that was a far cry from his normal confident manner.

She returned the smile. "Hello, welcome. How may I assist you today?"

"Yeah, um… Lisa," Eliot glanced briefly at her nametag before continuing. "I'm here for an appointment I scheduled with Mr. Smith, please."

"Oh, I don't think Mr. Smith has any more appointments until lunch," Lisa replied, her short blonde bob shaking as she gestured with her head. "His last one just stepped out."

Clearing his throat, Eliot chuckled nervously. "Are you sure? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that I set one up for this mornin' at 11. Could you please check and see? I might be mistaken, and if so, I'm definitely sorry for wastin' your time. But it'd be for a, ah, a Dwight Marshall."

"Well, sure, I guess it couldn't hurt," Lisa shrugged. She looked back at her screen. "Let me just look in here and see…"

"Marshall with two 'l's," Eliot volunteered.

Lisa just nodded as she clicked a few buttons on her keyboard, then looked up, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Why, I am so sorry, sir. I guess I was the one mistaken. I do see you have an appointment set up with Mr. Smith for this morning. Please accept my apologies."

"Oh, it ain't nothin', darlin'," Eliot reassured her. "Can I go on in?"

"Please." Lisa motioned to the door behind her. She pressed a button on the phone sitting on her desk. "Mr. Smith? Your 11:00 is here."

"Send him in," came the voice over the speaker.

Lisa nodded to Eliot, who smiled back at her and pushed open Smith's door. Inside the inner office, a man stood from his desk, pulling his attention from the stack of files he had been reading, to meet his guest. Eliot recognized him from the picture during Hardison's briefing the day before.

"Thanks for seein' me, Mr. Smith," Eliot said, extending a hand to shake the one the man had offered.

"My pleasure, Mr…?"

"Ah, right, Marshall," Eliot supplied, pumping Smith's hand eagerly. "Name's Dwight Marshall, from Mobile, Alabama," he offered, drawing out the 'eel' in the city name just a little more than usual. As he finished his introduction, Eliot glanced around the office. It was by no means the height of luxury, but it was a much more cushy environment than one might expect of a loan manager who catered to the down and out. "You have a nice place here," he observed, taking in the dark beige walls, leather furniture, and solid oak desk.

"And you certainly have come a far way," Smith replied. "Please, have a seat." He motioned to the two chairs facing his desk. Eliot took one and Smith sat back in his own desk chair. "What brings you to New York from Alabama?"

"Well, you know, I've been travelin' around a bit," Eliot chuckled. "Tryin' to find a place to settle down, figure out how to make a livin'... you know, all the stuff that comes with life."

Smith nodded good-humoredly. "Yes. So what can I do for you, Mr. Marshall?"

"Ah." Eliot made a face. "I need a loan, and I hear you're the man to give it to me. I've tried every bank in town, but I can't get one of them to loan me what I need. Somethin' about me being too high-risk or somethin'."

"And what is it that you need money to do?"

"Well, sir," Eliot replied, puffing out his chest a little, "I want to open my own bakery."

"Bakery?" Smith asked. He tried to hide it, but Eliot caught the glimmer of interest in the man's eye.

"Yes sir! I've been perfecting some of my own recipes over the past few years, and I think I've finally got something that'll win… appeal to the refined taste buds of New Yorkers and all that." Eliot ticked a list off on his fingers. "I've got some great recipes ready to go. My plan is to open a shop specializing in signature cupcakes, which I'd sell. I'd also love to hold workshops where people can pay to spend the morning or afternoon learning a certain recipe - although of course, I'd keep the signature ones secret so that I could make the most profit," he added. He had run through the explanation quickly, and he took a breath while he observed Smith's expression.

Smith looked quite intrigued with Eliot's words. He grinned slightly, and that expression widened into a full smile as Eliot leaned forward to push the white box across the desktop towards him.

"Here, try it. It's one of my personal favorites."

Tentatively biting into the beautifully-made cupcake, Smith closed his eyes as he savored the morsel. "This is amazing!" he exclaimed. "Is this bacon?"

"Maple bacon, yes sir!" Eliot grinned proudly.

Parker's voice came through Eliot's earpiece. "I told you; no one can resist bacon!"

Smith was still clearly enjoying the cupcake. "Why, you could make a fortune on just this!" He took another bite as he looked across the desk at his guest, now clearly seeing the man in a new light.

"Thank you, sir." Eliot ducked his head modestly at the compliment. "Thing is, I need… well, I need everything to get this off the ground. A building, equipment, supplies… which I unfortunately can't afford at the moment, not without a loan, anyway."

"Ah, right." Smith paused as if considering the idea, but it was clear that he was already sold on it. "Tell you what," he finally said. "Let's go into this as partners, and you'll have yourself your loan. Let me back you and share the business fifty-fifty - once you've paid back the initial loan amount - and you'll be good to go. I'll buy what you need and handle sales, leaving you to handle production and product development."

"Really? Why, Mr. Smith, I'd love that," Eliot eagerly replied. He turned his head imperceptibly as another voice spoke up in his ear.

"Perfect, Eliot. Just finish hooking him," Nate encouraged. "This is exactly where we want him."

"What? Why's that?" Parker sounded offended. "He's already taking over Eliot's business!"

Nate cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. Well, that is what we want him to do, Parker. We get him tied up in this cupcake business and keep him so busy that he gives Eliot access to his accounts in order to buy some of the more… ah, technical supplies."

Eliot could imagine their leader waving his hands around as he continued with the explanation he was giving Parker. "Then Hardison can drain Smith's accounts to pay back our client and ruin Smith. With any luck, we'll put him out of the business of robbing clients with fairytale loans."

"Wonderful!" Smith was saying, standing as he wiped his fingers on a handkerchief. "I'd love to talk all of this over with you some more, but I have to run. There's a lunch meeting I just can't skip."

"Sure thing! When works for you?" Eliot stood as well.

Smith smiled giddily. "Let's say tomorrow morning? Set up a time with Lisa when you leave; she knows my schedule better than I do," he laughed.

Laughing along, Eliot nodded. "Sounds great, Mr. Smith. And thank you again, ever so much!"

"Thank you, my boy. Thank you!" Smith gave Eliot one last smile and nod as Eliot headed back out to the lobby. Smith stared after him for a moment, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, before he sat back at his desk and went back to his files.

"If this guy is in immediate danger, Finch, it may be that he'll die of boredom," Reese commented dryly. "All he did was leave to get lunch at a nearby cafe. Although I think he's meeting someone; he asked for a table for two and hasn't ordered anything other than a drink."

"Well, let's hope something happens soon. We haven't been able to learn anything from any other avenue."

"Relax, Finch," Reese reassured his partner. "If nothing else, we'll just follow him around until someone shows their hand." He looked through the viewfinder of his camera, taking in the cafe's outdoor eating area from the driver's seat of his car. Parked across the street from the cafe, he had the perfect vantagepoint from which to observe Kiernan.

Ten of the fifteen tables in the eating area were occupied, the patrons a varied mix of both men and women of all ages. A table of businessmen seemed to be immersed in a meeting, two tables consisted of several college students studying together, a single woman was absorbed in a thick novel that lay in front of her teacup while a second table was occupied by a man typing on an electronic tablet, and the remaining filled tables were being used by young couples focused on nothing but each other. "If Kiernan's up to something devious, this seems like the last place for it," Reese observed.

"I agree. But if he's a victim, Mr. Reese, this could be a good place for an attack," Finch commented seriously.

"I'll keep an eye out." Reese scanned the area again, noting the passersby outside of the low metal fence that separated the cafe's eating area from the sidewalk. It was a usual day in New York City, with hundreds of people walking to their destinations, and this street was no exception. "There are dozens of people passing by, but none of them seem to be focused on anything but their own business. Oh, wait," he added as a heavy-set figure walked through the opening from the sidewalk to the cafe and headed for Kiernan's table. "It looks like our guy's lunch meeting is here."

"Does he look like he has ulterior motives?"

Reese watched as the men greeted each other with smiles and shook hands. "If he is, he's hiding it well."

"I've activated the microphone on Kiernan's cell phone," Finch spoke up as the newcomer and Kiernan took seats at the table. Conveniently, it appears he left it next to his plate. I've routed that feed through our line so that we can both hear whatever they say."

Reese lifted his camera to snap several pictures of the two men. As he did, their voices began to come through his earpiece.

"I'll take the number three," the newcomer was saying, handing a menu back to the waitress who had approached their table.

"And a number six for me," Kiernan added. Once the woman had retreated back into the cafe building, he smiled across the table at the newcomer. "Great to see you, Walt. How's business?"

The man he had called Walt took a sip from his glass. "Not as good as it could," he replied. "There's been a decline in customers coming through lately." There was a hint of accusation in his voice that Reese couldn't miss.

"Come on, Walt," Kiernan chuckled, shaking his head. "You don't think you're the only one who's had less business lately. Do you think I'm just keeping all the clients to myself?"

"Well, when my doors revolve more and more slowly, I don't quite know what to think." Walt didn't sound amused. "What would you do in my place, Eddie?"

Kiernan made a noise of disgust. "We have two distinctly different companies, operating in completely separate areas! Me keeping them all for myself makes no sense whatsoever."

There was a brief pause as Walt considered the other man's words. "Okay…" he finally replied slowly. "You have a point there."

"But since we're on the subject, we do need to discuss the clients you lost this week." He leaned forward on his elbows, and his voice took on an accusatory tone. "How do you lose three clients in less than five days?"

"Hey!" Walt also leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "I don't tell you how to sell drugs. You don't tell me how to write loans."

"Well, it would seem to me that losing clients at the rate you are means you do need help." Kiernan's tone still held the same bite as before.

Walt tried to placate Kiernan. "It's happened before, Eddie. Really. Whenever I foreclose on someone… well, other people get a little antsy." He shrugged. "It's just the way things work. Some people get freaked out and want to get away fast. But really, it'll even out before the month is up. Trust me."

"Yeah, sure," Kiernan commented. He eyed Walt across the table as he took a sip out of his glass. "You'd better be right about this or I might have to consider taking my business elsewhere." His words came out more as a threat than a casual comment.

"Eddie, my man." Walt spread his hands. "Just look at the numbers! Even with these losses, we're making much more money together now than either one of us ever made by ourselves before we started working together. Seriously. That little scheme you came up with, getting your clients talking about their money troubles and then sending them to me? It's genius, really!"

As the men continued their conversation, Reese raised his camera again. "Hm, Finch, it would appear our guys are in business together."

"Yes, I noticed," Finch replied slowly. "The question is, does either one of these partners have it out for the other?"

Reese nodded. "They certainly don't seem to be on the best of terms at the moment."

"I guess the big question is which one?" Finch reasoned. "And why? Mr. Reese, I need you to get close enough to bluejack this Walt's phone. With the image you sent me from the camera, I'm running his face through the system now. We need to find out who he is and if he has any plans to harm Kiernan - or if there's any reason to assume it's the other way around."