"Nothing to report yet," Sophie said, turning a page in her book. "I got a nice little corner table at the place you said, Hardison, but Smith hasn't even shown up yet."

"Just stay put," Nate instructed over her earpiece. "He's stuck in traffic - or at least, that's what Hardison's, uh, map… thingie says."

Hardison's offended voice came over the line at that. "Uh, excuse me. Did you just call a highly sophisticated GPS tracking system a 'map thingie'?"

"Lay off, Hardison. Not everyone's as much of a geek about everything as you are," Eliot growled.

Sophie could easily imagine the look on Hardison's face as the hacker responded, "Well I'm sorry for trying to do my dang job." He sighed. "Some people," he muttered as the clicking of keys came over the line. "Okay, looks like he's about there. Keep an eye out, Sophie."

"Do you see anyone he might be meeting?" Nate wanted to know.

"Well, there's a number of tables occupied out here," Sophie replied, glancing around. "But there are two with men sitting alone… and one appears to be waiting on someone." She studied the man in question. He was slightly older, had short auburn hair that was starting to gray, and muscular arms that could be seen past his rolled up shirtsleeves. Her guess was confirmed when Smith turned the far corner and made his way to the cafe. He went right up to the table of the man Sophie had observed, who stood to his feet to shake hands with Smith. "Seems this is our guy," she remarked.

"This guy who was waiting on him, he looks like he was a fighter at some point in his life," Eliot commented from the street corner opposite Sophie's seat at the cafe.

Nate cleared his throat. "Oh?"

"He's got a very distinctive stance," the hitter brushed away the question.

Sophie kept her eyes on the two men, although she sipped her tea as if everything was as normal as it could be. "Okay, looks like they're ordering lunch before discussing any business."

"Well, since I conveniently hacked our guy's phone during his meeting with Eliot this morning," Hardison began, "all I have to do is activate the microphone… patch it into our line here… and we should be able to hear what's going on at this little rendezvous…" After a brief pause, he chuckled in satisfaction. "And we are live," he added quietly as Smith's voice reached their ears.

"There's been a decline in customers coming through lately." His statement seemed to accuse the other man.

"Come on, Walt," the other man chuckled. "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?"

Eddie 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."

After a brief pause, Walt replied slowly, "Okay… You have a point there."

"But since we're on the subject, we do need to discuss the clients you lost this week." Eddie's voice took on an accusatory tone as he leaned on his elbows to shorten the distance between him and the other man. "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," Eddie spat.

Walt was now trying to placate him. "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. You'd better be right about this or I might have to consider taking my business elsewhere." His words were much more along the lines of a threat than a simple, 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, look at how much money you're making now that we send our clients to each other. 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!"

"Hey," Eliot's voice cut into the conversation the team had fallen silent to hear. "I've got a guy in a car over here. He's not doing anything, but he seems to be watching the restaurant."

Sophie's head turned at that. "What? Where?"

"Don't freak him out!" Eliot exclaimed.

"Ah, Eliot, are you sure he's watching the cafe?" Nate asked. "Maybe there's a logical explanation. Do you think he's just waiting for someone?"

"Could be," Eliot considered that as he kept an eye on the dark sedan parked about halfway down the block from his post. "I thought I saw a camera a minute ago."

Before the team could speculate any more, an attractive African American woman in dress pants and a purple Oxford shirt crossed the street near where Eliot was positioned. She paused as she caught sight of Eliot, then gave him a sympathetic smile and reached into her pocket. Dropping a five dollar bill into the hat on the ground in front of him, she continued down the street and opened the passenger door of the dark sedan that Eliot had noticed.

"Next time, Parker can play the hobo," Eliot groused, glaring at the cardboard sign in his hands.

"You make a great hobo," Parker spoke up for the first time in their current conversation. "And we all know I can't punch somebody if things go wrong. Remember last time I tried it?"

"Is that all you think I do?" Eliot snapped in a low whisper.

"Where have you been?" Hardison could be heard asking. "And did you get my soda?"

Parker laughed. "Oh, yeah. Here." The rustle of a grocery bag came over the line. "I brought donuts too."

The car pulled away from the curb once the woman had shut the door.

"False alarm, guys," Eliot remarked. "Looks like he was waiting on someone."

"Good, then we're still on schedule," Nate said, satisfied. "Hardison, why don't you look into this guy Smith was arguing with just now. We don't need any surprises on this job. In the meantime, Eliot, come back to the hotel and get cleaned up. We've got more roles to play this afternoon."

"Thanks for meeting me, Carter," Reese told the woman in the passenger seat as he turned the corner.

Carter nodded. "No problem." She looked out the window. "Circling the block?"

"Don't want to get noticed being in one place for too long," Reese remarked. "What did you find out about Kiernan? Any hidden sins in his past?"

"If there are, I can't find them," Carter supplied. "He's a pretty good guy from what I can tell. Couple of parking tickets, one DUI from his college days, but that's it. If your guy's up to something, we don't have anything that would indicate it."

Reese considered this information. "You could have called and told me that."

"And miss the chance to see your smiling face?" Carter cracked. "Nah, I'm on lunch and had something to do out this way; figured I might as well catch you up while I'm here."

"Thanks." Reese pulled up to the curb close to where he had been parked before, only this time on the side of the street next to the cafe.

Carter turned to open her door, then paused. "Huh."

"What is it?"

"That corner…" Carter said distractedly. "There was a homeless guy there when I walked past not five minutes ago. He's gone now."

Reese turned to see where she was indicating. "Maybe someone asked him to move?"

"Yeah, probably." Carter shrugged it off. "Well, I'll be seeing you, John."

After she had closed her door and started off back down the street, Reese exited his side of the car. He made his way to the entrance of the cafe, slipping his hand into his pocket as he did so. When he got to where Kiernan and the other man were shaking hands goodbye, he tripped and stumbled to the ground.

"Whoa, are you okay, buddy?" Kiernan's lunch partner spun around and bent forward to extend a hand to him.

Reese grinned sheepishly. "Yeah. Just a bit clumsy sometimes. Thanks." He accepted the outstretched hand and got to his feet. "Thanks," he repeated, patting Walt on the shoulder. As he walked past the remaining tables, he looked down at the phone in his hand. "It didn't seem to pair, Finch."

"Yes, I can see that." Finch sounded slightly confused, and Reese could picture the furrow in his partner's brow as Finch tried to figure out the issue. "Perhaps he's more conscientious of his security than most people. Ah, either way, we'll have to find another method of discovering who this Walt is… Oh, wait. I'm already getting some results from the picture. It would seem that Walt is a… Walter P. Smith, an investment banker here in the city. Smith apparently caters to high risk clients, giving out loans to those who have exhausted their options with other lenders."

"So he's Kiernan, except with money instead of drugs." Reese let the two men get about halfway down the street before he started off after them.

"Precisely." Finch was typing again. "The two men have multiple clients in common between their databases. Their partnership appears to be very profitable for both Kiernan and Smith… I've traced the date that they started working together… and it seems their profits climbed considerably soon after and have only continued to increase since."

"Well, they didn't seem to be enjoying anything at lunch today," Reese commented. "I don't think it'd be much of a stretch to say that Kiernan was threatening Smith."

Finch cleared his throat. "I might not go quite that far, but Kiernan did exhibit a tendency towards violence. Perhaps that's why the Machine gave us his number… I would recommend you stick close to Kiernan for the time being, Mr. Reese, at least until we know for sure one way or another."

Nate's key card clicked in the lock of one of the rooms the team had rented for their stay in New York. Hardison had been able to find a place that offered rooms with kitchen areas, and judging by the smells coming from this one, Eliot was putting it to good use.

"Here, taste this," the hitter was saying as Nate joined the others around the small island separating the kitchen from the sitting area.

Sophie accepted the proffered spoon and scooped off some of the cream with her finger. "Mmm," she sighed, closing her eyes as she savored the taste. "That's really good."

From her seat on the far end counter, Parker reached across Hardison to snag her own taste of Eliot's creation. She tilted her head as she evaluated it. "I still think it needs drugs."

"No!" Hardison, Eliot, and Sophie all exclaimed at once.

Nate looked around at the semi-exasperated faces of the three, took in Parker's impish grin, and sighed. "What's this about drugs?"

"Parker wants to lace my cupcakes," Eliot growled, frowning at the blonde in question.

"But then they'll really be irresistible!" Parker argued. She crossed her arms and made a face back at Eliot. "Isn't that what we want them to be? And besides, what's the harm? I can go down a few blocks and find some within an hour."

Sophie cleared her throat. "I'm not sure which part of that explanation I'm less comfortable with."

"Parker," Hardison chimed in, "the last thing we need is you getting arrested for drug possession. We have a con to run, isn't that right, Nate?"

"And it'll ruin the texture anyway," Eliot was still complaining as he sprinkled something into the bowl in front of him.

"But -"

"Parker," Nate interjected, "we have other things to focus on right now. Drugging Smith is not one of them."

"Fine." With a dramatic sigh, Parker eyed the mixing bowl. "But I get to lick the bowl."

Eliot relinquished his spoon. "If that'll get us past the drugs, then go ahead," he told her, reaching for a piping bag to hold his icing.

Just then, the cell phone sitting on the counter next to Sophie rang. Hardison snatched it up and tossed it at Eliot when he saw the caller ID. "It's Smith!"

"Geez, Hardison!" Eliot snapped, snatching the device out of the air with his free hand. "Give me some warning next time."

"Just because I beat you to it doesn't mean you gotta get all angry on me," Hardison shot back.

"Someone just answer the phone before it stops ringing," Nate cut in.

Eliot gave Hardison one last look, then hit the button to accept the incoming call. He shifted into his exaggerated accent from that morning as he answered. "Hello?"

The rest of the team fell silent, watching Eliot's face as they listened to his side of the conversation.

"Why yes! Yes, that would be absolutely great!" Eliot paused to listen some more, then continued, "I think that sounds perfect! Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. When do you wanna get started?... Today? Do you have a place?... Oh? Perfect! Well then sure. I'll be glad to meet you for that… Go shoppin' for supplies tonight?" Eliot shot a look at Nate, silently asking about what he had just said over the phone.

Nate shrugged and nodded.

"Sounds great. Should I meet you at your office tonight at seven?... Okay, will do. Thank you again, Mr. Smith."

After hanging up the call, Eliot looked between the other members of the team. "Apparently, Smith has a recent 'opening,'" he emphasized the word with air quotes, "in a restaurant property."

"Probably evicted somebody else," Hardison snorted.

"We didn't start this con to get more people thrown out of their homes and businesses," Sophie objected.

"It probably was empty already," Eliot reasoned. "Would take some time to get it cleaned and operational, and Smith said I could get stuff delivered this afternoon if I wanted."

Nate nodded. "Well, whatever the case, we're in. Eliot, you go shopping with our guy tonight. Hardison?"

"Oh yeah, I'm ready," the hacker grinned. He waved the tablet in his hands. "As soon as Eliot swipes the credit card on the reader he'll have in his pocket, we'll be in business, baby!"

"And what about the partner at the lunch meeting?" Nate wanted to know. "Did you research him at all?"

Hardison nodded and tapped several commands into his tablet. He turned it so Nate could see the picture on the screen. "Our guest would be an Edward Kiernan. Sorta like Smith but dealing in drugs instead of money."

"Drugs?" Parker perked up at that.

"Not actual drugs, woman," Hardison corrected. "Meds. Like the kind you'd get to cure a cold or treat asthma."

"Oh." Her face fell and she turned back to the bowl of icing.

Hardison shook his head and continued, "Anyway, he doesn't have any criminal history or anything scary like that. Seems to be just a business guy with questionable judgment who's working with our super shady business guy. But as far as I can tell, he's kept himself out of trouble. No need for us to run a con on him, too," he cracked.

"Hey, one of you come taste this," Eliot called, interrupting the conversation. He was holding up a frosted cupcake, complete with a small green sprig on the top. "I need a second opinion."

"I can give you a second one!" Parker offered eagerly.

Eliot just raised an eyebrow. "I mean a second opinion that doesn't involve the words 'laced' or 'drugged.'"

She didn't miss a beat. "How about 'filled'?"

"I hope you're having better success than I am, Finch." Reese looked over the top of the magazine he was pretending to read. From his place by the newsstand on the corner, Reese could see everyone who entered and exited Kiernan's shop. "Kiernan's been busy working all afternoon."

"I took the liberty of letting myself into his apartment," came the reply, "and have been going through his personal computer. Other than some questionable browsing history that is far from the reputation of a gentleman, there is one thing that concerns me."

Reese raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It appears that Kiernan has been researching real estate laws, as well as recent local graduates looking to get into the business…" Finch trailed off as he tended to do when lost in thought processing some new bit of information. "He's also looking into properties for rent near Smith's current office building."

Replacing the magazine in the news rack, Reese strolled down the street to a coffee truck and smiled at the vendor. "A small, please," he said, holding out a bill. As the man turned to retrieve the product, Reese put a hand to his ear and asked in a low voice, "Now why would Kiernan be researching the same things his partner is providing for him?"

"If you're thinking the same thing I am, Mr. Reese, I would have to agree that it seems highly probable."

Reese nodded his thanks and took the paper cup. "Are you thinking that Kiernan is trying to off his partner because of recent unsatisfactory events?"

"Such as losing several clients as a result of an eviction? Yes," Finch agreed. "He certainly became angry enough at their lunch meeting to justify the accusation. As you said, he came just short of threatening Smith."

"He might just be looking to get out of business with Smith and isn't planning to actually kill him, but it's our best lead right now." Reese's attention was drawn back across the street as the lights went out in Kiernan's shop. "Something's happening, Finch."

The sound of a chair scraping the floor came over the earpiece as Finch asked worriedly, "Something bad?"

"No." Reese breathed a small sigh of relief as Kiernan stepped outside and shut the door behind him. "He's just locking up for the night."

Just then, the phone in Reese's pocket dinged. Pulling it out, Reese read the text that was displayed on the screen.

"Finch," he said, "what businessman do you know who would be looking for his partner at nine in the evening?"

"Don't let Kiernan out of your sight!" was Finch's emphatic reply.