A/N: Took a long break from writing, but I'm back at it now. Still pretty slow, though. Chapter 4 is also done and will be posted in a couple days.
Chapter 3: Tuesday morning at the FBI
Tuesday morning found Neal at his desk, again reviewing old case files. Except this time, at Peter's request, he was searching for any crimes with an MO matching their bicycle thieves'. The whole team had spent most of the morning at their desks, working hard at their assigned tasks. But from his vantage point by the door, Neal had watched Peter leave and return several times, to consult with the tech department two floors down. Jones had gone back to the Channing to meet with Dr. Rodriguez, and had returned with a stack of employee files to inspect for possible signs of an inside man. And Diana had left not long ago to meet with Captain Shattuck down at NYPD headquarters.
Neal had expected Sara to arrive bright and early, but the late-morning meeting that Peter had scheduled was almost upon them and still no Sara. Just then, Diana breezed in, looking a bit like the cat with the canary, carrying a stack of papers sandwiched around a plastic evidence bag.
"Diana!" Neal jumped up from his desk. "So, NYPD found something?"
Diana nodded confirmation as she passed Neal, but she pulled her sandwiched evidence away from Neal's reaching hands, taunting, "Nuh-uh! You're gonna to have to wait and see this with everyone else. Meeting starts in five."
"Aw, c'mon, Diana, you can show me." Neal's eyes followed Diana, hoping to catch a glimpse of her prize.
"Not a chance, Neal." Diana tossed a grin over her shoulder and headed up the stairs to Peter's office.
Neal heard a thud from behind him, and turned to see Sara shoving the door open with one elbow, trying to edge through with a large cardboard file box in her arms.
"Morning, Sara," said Neal brightly, as he hurried back to the door.
"Neal." Sara's tone did not invite further conversation.
"Here, let me help you with that," said Neal, reaching for the box.
But Sara just glared at him and twisted away slightly, still stuck in the doorway.
So Neal pulled the second door open for her, instead, freeing her to sail right on through.
"You're welcome," muttered Neal to her rapidly departing back before reaching out to tap the bust of Socrates on his desk and then casually sauntering after.
Neal quickened his pace when he saw that Diana and Peter were outside Peter's office, clearly discussing Diana's new-brought evidence. But by the time Neal caught up with Sara at the top of the stairs, all he heard of their conversation was Diana reassuring Peter, "I can do that, Boss," before she entered the conference room.
Peter took one look at Sara's expression and stood aside to let her enter the conference room before him. Then he sent Neal a questioning look. "She's mad," Peter observed mildly. "Any idea why?"
"Nope."
Half-joking, Peter asked, "Did you break into her house again, Neal?"
"No!"
"Hmmmmm, let's keep it that way."
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In the conference room, Neal sat near the door again, with the file box on a chair between himself and Sara. Jones was across from Neal, his stack of employee files on the table before him, and Diana and her mystery evidence sat across from Sara.
Peter called the meeting to order. "All right people. We've got two missing paintings and three unidentified thieves. Our tech department managed to enhance the video footage of the crime, but our thieves were careful." Peter frowned. "We don't have a clean shot of any of their faces."
"These are the best we've got." Peter gestured to the white board, where a number of new pictures had joined the artwork. There was one photo showing all three thieves on their bicycles, plus close-ups of each man. Or rather, close-ups of their sunglasses and the brims of their caps, with bits of nose, mouth, chin, and ear showing.
"They knew to keep their heads down, with the cameras overhead," Neal observed.
"Unfortunately," said Jones.
Diana turned to Peter. "Can we run them through facial recognition?"
"Already tried." Peter shook his head. "We can't ID our thieves with just the partial faces we have right now. But if we can get a lead on their lookout, or the inside man, we may be able to use them to lead us back to the thieves."
"And the art," Sara added sharply.
Peter nodded to Sara and repeated, "And the art," before continuing, "We did pick up two new things from the video footage. The first: Mr. Harris-Young-"
"The younger museum guard," Jones interjected, shuffling through the stack of employee files in front of him, "The one who opened the door."
"Yes," replied Peter. "He said that he only walked out into the alley to wave off the bicyclists. But on the tape, he waved a little bit just as soon as he walked out the door. Before he started waving at the bicyclists."
"He was signaling to someone?" Diana reached out and adjusted the stack of papers covering the evidence bag in front of her.
"Maybe he was just waving to someone in the park," suggested Neal. "Peter, did you see anyone on the front entrance security tapes that Timmy might have been waving to?
"Ah, I did take a look at the video footage, but," Peter shrugged a little. "Well, there are a lot of cameras on the front of the museum. And a lot of people in that park yesterday afternoon. So I, ah, gave everything to the tech department; they're looking at all of it now."
"Aw," Neal teased, "too much to sort through all by yourself, Peter?"
"Nooooo," Peter denied with a grin, "No. I just don't want to put our tech department out of work."
"Wait," Sara interrupted, "if this Mr. Harris-Young lied about what happened in the alley, who knows what all else he's been lying about. If he's the inside man, why waste time on the lookout or anything else?" Sara continued, her voice rising, "Why don't you just bring him down here now and make him tell us what he knows?"
"Sara, if the evidence continues to point to Mr. Harris-Young, we will certainly pursue it," said Peter. "But if we're going to talk to Mr. Harris-Young again, I'd like to have a better idea of what questions to ask him. Plus, right now I want us to be considering all the possible angles; I'm not going to ignore any leads that might bring us closer to solving this case."
Though Peter had spoken to Sara, during this last statement his eyes also flicked across the table to Diana, who pulled her hands back from yet again rearranging her stack of papers, and suddenly asked, "Wait, boss, you said there were two things?"
"Yes." Peter gave Diana an approving nod. "When they enhanced the footage, they saw that the third thief was wearing a Bluetooth headset; it looks like someone may have called to tell him the van was coming, right before he yelled to the other two thieves that it was time to go. So our techs are looking for someone in the park, who had a clear view of the alley and the road, and who was talking on the phone during the heist."
"The lookout," said Neal with conviction.
"May be," said Peter, then leaned forward a little, hands steepled on the tabletop. "Right now our thieves think they got away clean. We're going to prove them wrong."
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"All right," said Peter, looking around the table, "Neal, what've you got?"
"Nothing yet." Neal frowned. "No case files featuring a three-man Russian team, or a bicycle getaway." Neal tilted his head slightly. "And as of last night, my…contact hadn't heard anything either. He's still putting out feelers, talking to… Well, he's talking to his various sources. Said he'd get back to me before noo-"
The strident ring of a phone cut through the air, and everyone flinched slightly. Sara snatched her phone out of her purse and, after a glance at the caller ID, stabbed the phone to silence.
"Not gonna answer that?" asked Neal.
"It's just my boss." Sara glowered as she dropped the offending phone on the tabletop. "I don't want to waste any more time talking to him. If he has anything important to say, he can leave a message."
As a chorus of eyebrows shot up around the room, "I just came from Sterling Bosch," Sara explained. "I went in this morning to dig up any information that might relate to this case." She nodded towards the cardboard box. "Sterling Bosch hasn't heard any chatter yet, either. Nothing from their network of confidential informants. No anonymous tips…"
"Anonymous tips?" asked Diana incredulously.
"Sterling Bosch official policy," said Sara, her voice heavy with disapproval. "They care more about finding the stolen art than about being able to prosecute those who stole it."
"What about you?" Neal teased. "If you had to pick between catching the bad guys and recovering the art, which would you choose?"
"Both!" retorted Sara. "My co-workers," she spit the word out like it tasted bad, "think I take this all a little too personally."
Neal muttered, "Perish the thought," under his breath, which earned him a glare from Sara and a quiet snort of laughter from Jones.
Sara conceded, "They'll do whatever it takes to recover the stolen art. But when it comes to catching those who stole it, they're content to sit on the sidelines and let other people do the heavy lifting. Or let the criminals go free, if it gives them a better chance at the art." Sara paused to look around the room. "Me? I just want to see justice done." Sara shrugged and smiled a little, correcting herself, "Well, not just see. I want to be a part of the action."
The FBI agents were all nodding and smiling slightly, feeling the same way themselves.
"Art belongs in museums where everyone has a chance to see it," Sara began, inadvertently echoing the curator's words from the previous day.
"Oh, Neal absolutely agrees with you," joked Peter, for Neal's benefit.
But Sara continued, talking over him, "…and art thieves belong in prison, for taking that chance away," Sara concluded decisively. Then she turned to Neal with a glare. "How long has it been since anyone other than you got to enjoy the Raphael?"
Neal's eyes widened involuntarily, then he quickly pasted his widest, most innocent smile on his face. But as Neal drew breath to answer Sara, he was interrupted by a quiet buzz from his jacket.
Neal slid his phone out of his pocket and checked the caller ID, then looked down the table to Peter and said, "Moz. I'm gonna take this," before ducking out of the conference room.
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"Moz, what've you got?" said Neal quietly.
"I've been poking around, just like you asked, giving my associates a chance to brag about yesterday's heist, implying that I might be in the market for Dutch masters…"
"And?"
"I've got nothing, man," admitted Mozzie. "I don't know who these guys are, but they're good. Professional. It takes a tight-knit crew to keep a job like this quiet."
"Yeah…" Neal's voice trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder and through the glass wall of the conference room, then quickly away as he found Peter looking straight at him.
"I haven't talked to all my contacts yet," Mozzie continued. "I'll keep looking."
"Okay…great." Neal glanced carefully over his shoulder again. Peter was half-turned away from him, pointing toward something on the whiteboard.
"Neal?" asked Mozzie, picking up on Neal's distraction. "Is there… anything else you need help with?"
"Actually, I may need you to do a little more digging."
"Of course, mon frère."
Neal watched Sara tilt her phone up to check the screen again then let it drop back to the tabletop. "There's something bothering Sara. Something other than this case."
"And she's taking it out on you?" surmised Mozzie.
Neal shrugged, though he knew Mozzie couldn't see it over the phone. "I am the easy target in the room."
"What can I do to help?"
"You remember that perky assistant at Sterling Bosch?" Neal asked. "The one who confirmed when the FAA tape was delivered to Sara?"
"Of course I do, since I have perfect recall! I liked her."
"Why don't you give her another call," suggested Neal. "See if you can get her going on office gossip."
"I can do that," said Mozzie cautiously. "But Neal. When it comes to Sara. I think it might be better to just leave well enough alone."
"You know I can't." Neal half-shrugged again. "I owe her, Moz."
"All right," Mozzie grumbled, "I'll make the call."
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As soon as Neal walked through the conference room door, Peter looked up expectantly. "Well? Any word?"
"No, nothing." Neal shook his head. "Which is unusual, with a big job like this. In the average three-man crew-"
"Or four-man," put in Jones, eyeing his stack of museum employee files.
"Or five," added Diana.
Neal acknowledged this with a nod and continued, "-there's always someone who can't keep their mouth shut."
"So we're dealing with an above-average crew, then," concluded Peter.
"Well, I can think of a couple explanations for why they're keeping this so quiet." Diana looked to Peter, who nodded for her to continue. "Option One: If they're not trying to shop the art right now, it could mean they had a buyer lined up beforehand."
"You think someone commissioned the heist?" Sara asked, then turned to dig into her cardboard file box.
Neal leaned over to peer into the box, saying ruefully, "That doesn't happen nearly as often as you'd think."
Sara shot Neal a glance, and, after pulling several files out, clamped the lid back onto the box and turned to Peter. "I did a little research this morning at work. On known admirers of the Dutch Masters. I pulled the files on a few people who might like to own a Vermeer enough to not care how legally it was acquired. People who have been on Sterling Bosch's radar for some time, but we've never quite been able to officially tie to any art crimes."
Sara slapped the first file down on the table. "An investment banker living in Moscow." A second file joined the first. "A doctor in London." Sara held a particularly thick file above the others. "A convicted felon living in Manhattan." She turned and looked pointedly at Neal before letting the file drop with a thud.
Neal started to say, "Sara, I-", but Peter held up a hand and stopped him.
Peter explained patiently, "Sara, the heist happened during the day. Neal was right here in the FBI building when it happened."
Neal grinned, leaned back, and raised his eyebrows at Sara as if to say, "Take that!"
"That doesn't mean he wasn't in on the planning," retorted Sara.
As Peter shook his head, Neal teased, "You think I was the brains behind the operation? Sara, you flatter me."
Peter shot Neal a glance and warned, "Neal…"
Sara dismissed Neal with a bare glance, but demanded of Peter, "So, you're just trusting that he had nothing to do with this?"
"No," He started, then stopped. Peter felt in his gut that Neal wasn't involved in the heist, but even he wasn't sure why he was so sure.
Into the expectant silence, Jones whispered to Diana, "Don't bet against the gut." And Diana suppressed a chuckle. Peter knew his team had learned to trust him, but he could tell they were curious, too.
After a case was over, Peter could usually puzzle out what bits of evidence his brain had put together, to jump to the conclusions it did. But now, for Sara's sake, and for the rest of his team, he struggled to put his instincts into words.
"I've studied Neal for years; I know his style as well as anyone. And he doesn't plan crimes for other people to commit."
Diana and Jones looked thoughtful at this, as though they were paging through their mental Caffrey-files. Neal looked a little proud of himself, but Sara wasn't ready to give up her theory yet.
Peter, still struggling for words, looked back and forth between the skeptical Sara and the smiling Neal. Then suddenly Peter's face lightened, and a little grin ghosted across his face.
"In fact," explained Peter, "you could even say that he's 'not content to sit on the sidelines.' Or that he 'likes to be a part of the action'."
Sara was not pleased to have her own words thrown back in her face, and clearly did not want to admit to any similarities between herself and the conman. Neal, predictably, was grinning up a storm. And Diana and Jones weren't even bothering to hide their amusement.
"It's not that Neal isn't capable of planning a shenanigan like this." Peter turned away from Sara just long enough to shoot a frown at the still-grinning Neal. "But if he had, he'd have been right in the middle of it."
This indictment dented Neal's pleasure not at all.
Peter exhaled heavily, and extended an olive branch to Sara. "Why don't you give me your list of possible heist commissioners; I'll make sure the FBI checks them out."
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"Well," said Diana heartily, "I'm hoping it's Option Two, anyways: They're keeping quiet because they've got a good place to hide the art while they wait for things to cool off." This statement earned Diana some confused looks, but Diana just shrugged. "If they're laying low, that gives us time."
"Time to ID their inside man or their lookout, and use them to find the thieves before they move the art." Peter said briskly, "Jones, what've you found on the museum employees?"
"Well, Dr. Rodriguez released the full personnel files for all the employees on her list. Including background checks, employment history, credit information… She also shared what she knows about them, personally." Jones opened the top folder in the stack and consulted his notes. "No criminal records, and none of them is in any more debt than you'd expect—Harris-Young is working to put himself through night school; Delbright's got a wife and three kids; Mr. Stevens is a little behind on his car payments."
"Money's always a motive," said Neal, "but you don't just go shopping for an inside man in the employee directory. If there is an inside man, he'll be connected to our thieves somehow."
Jones nodded. "I've already started putting together a Friends and Family list for each suspect. See if they're linked to anyone in the FBI database. I haven't turned up anything incriminating. Yet."
Jones flipped the folder shut and tapped his fingers on its cover. "The only unusual thing so far—I called all three witnesses yesterday evening to confirm their contact info, and let 'em know we're watching. I reached Mr. Stevens, who was watching the security videos yesterday, and Mr. Delbright, the older guard. But Mr. Harris-Young didn't pick up, and he never called back." Jones sounded a little annoyed. "However, Dr. Rodriguez confirmed that everyone on her list showed up for work today, so I asked him about it, and he said he'd lost his phone."
"Uh-huh!" Diana burst out. "And guess what the NYPD found at the bottom of that dumpster?" She whipped the evidence bag out from under her stack of papers and displayed, "A phone!"
Diana had everyone's attention as she continued. "NYPD ID'd it this morning as Mr. Harris-Young's."
"Ah, you think it fell out of his pocket when he was in the dumpster?" asked Jones.
Diana shook her head decisively. "Not by accident, I don't think. I think he ditched it to try and hide the evidence."
By the puzzled looks the team was giving her, Diana realized she needed to back up and explain.
"See, NYPD checked the phone's log." Diana patted the packet of papers on the table before her. "Not a lot of calls, but there were plenty of texts, especially right before the heist." She pulled the last page from the packet, flipped it around, and slapped it down flat on the table in front of her. "Here are the last few."
Neal, Jones, and Sara leaned in, curious, but before they had time to translate the page of text-speak into regular English, Diana pointed to the last few lines and triumphantly explained, "The last text to Mr. Harris-Young reads, 'It's Go Time', and then his reply: 'Van is late; I'm coming out.'"
Now Diana was getting the suspicious responses she wanted from Sara and Jones.
But Neal could tell by Peter's lack of response that Diana had shown him the call log before the meeting started. And while Diana was well on her way to being convinced of Timmy's guilt, Peter clearly wasn't.
Taking advantage of the fact that Diana was focused on the final page of texts, Neal reached across the table, slid the rest of the packet out from under Diana's arm, and started paging through it. She narrowed her eyes a bit, to let him know she'd noticed, but otherwise continued fielding Jones' question about who Timmy was texting.
"We don't know who, exactly. But it was a burner phone, unregistered, bought on the street the day before." Diana paused for effect. "And both phones were using the same cell tower. So whoever it was, they were nearby."
"Oh, maybe in the park, you think?" Jones suggested.
Diana grinned in response, and Jones, cautiously impressed, said, "You may have found our inside man."
"I'm not so sure," said Neal, still paging through the packet of texts. "Most of these sound like they're written by a bored kid, texting his girlfriend from work. Not some criminal mastermind."
"Look," Sara burst out, "they could be happily married for all I care. It doesn't change the fact that," And Sara proceeded to list her reasons, "he texted someone that the van was late, he opened the door for the thieves, and he signaled to whoever was watching out from the park! I seriously doubt he's a mastermind, but he's sure as hell more than just some bored kid!"
"I admit, it's not looking good for Mr. Harris-Young," said Peter, "but we need more evidence."
Sara grimaced and snuck a glance at her watch, but didn't reply.
"Boss? If we need another way to connect Mr. Harris-Young to the heist..." Diana paused for a moment, then started again, "If Mr. Harris-Young is the inside man, he was most likely texting with the lookout in the park. So, is the tech department checking the video for someone texting, or just for someone talking on the phone?"
"Good. Yeah," said Peter. "Let me find out."
Peter pulled out his phone, dialed, and after a second said, "Me again. Yeah, we've got another question for you. There's a chance the lookout may have been texting, not talking, so-"
Moments after being cut off, Peter said, "Oh!" then went silent again. But judging by his facial expressions, the tech department had good news for them. Confirmation came moments later when Peter said, "This is good. Have you run them through facial recognition yet?"
The whole team perked up a little at this, as everyone happily thought, "Suspects!"
"Okay," said Peter, reaching for the remote control and turning on the video screen. "There's nothing- Oh, yeah, we got it now. Thanks, Connie, we'll take a look. Just let us know as soon as you get an ID for either of them."
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Three images had appeared on the video screen. The left-hand image took up two thirds of the screen, and two smaller images filled the right hand side, one above the other.
Peter explained, "The tech department cut together video from three different security cameras at the museum."
The upper right part of the screen showed the back hallway of the museum—they could see the door to the alley, and the wooden crates containing the paintings. Martin Delbright sat in the lone chair, and Timmy Harris-Young leaned against a wall, his back to the camera, facing the closed door. The lower right image showed the empty alley right outside that door.
The largest image showed a view of Central Park just across the street from the alley. It centered on a park bench with two occupants—a businessman, with a Bluetooth in his ear, newspaper in his hand, briefcase at his feet; and a young blonde woman, with a white button-down shirt, a short black skirt, and long legs, staring intently at the phone in her hands, thumbs poised over its keypad.
Peter continued, "The tech department said these two are the best candidates for our lookout. They were both sitting on that bench well before the heist began. They had a view right down the alley. And they were in position to watch the van come through the street construction."
Peter hit play, and the businessman shook his paper open and began to read. The open pages blocked much of his upper body, but as he turned the pages, glimpses of his face suggested that he was talking to someone on his Bluetooth.
The young blonde was hunched over her phone, texting furiously. After several minutes, she tucked her phone into her bag and stood up.
As the hallway video in the upper right-hand corner showed Timmy open the back door and exit the building, the young woman smiled and waved enthusiastically in the larger image, and Timmy returned her greeting more cautiously from the alley video in the lower right.
"So this is who he was communicating with," said Diana. "She could be the lookout."
"Or the girlfriend," said Neal.
"Or both!" argued Sara.
Then, as Timmy's attention was caught by the three bicyclists appearing in the alley, the young blonde blew him a kiss and turned and walked north, out of the camera shot.
"Wait," said Jones, "she left before the van arrived?"
Peter paused the video and explained, "They've got her on another museum security camera, walking north towards the construction. We don't have eyes on her all the way through the heist, but we're pretty sure she still had a good view of the construction zone when the van was going past."
"Well, we may not have eyes on her, but he does," Jones joked. Then he explained, pointing at the screen, "Check our businessman. He looked up from his paper right when she stood up, and he doesn't seem quite so interested in it now, does he?"
On the screen, the businessman's paper had drooped, and his head was turned to the north.
Then Peter hit play, and they watched the businessman hitch up his paper, only to let it sag again moments later, revealing that he was still facing north, and still talking sporadically on his Bluetooth. Then he firmly snapped his paper open, and his face disappeared again from view.
Moments later, in the smaller two video images, the confrontation between the thieves and the guards ended with Timmy, then Martin, flying into the dumpster. Then the rapid acquisition of the paintings. And, on some unknown cue, the three bicyclists flew down the alley and swept into and out of the larger video image just as the van turned into the alley.
And finally, the businessman's newspaper dipped again, as he lowered one arm to look at his watch. Then he folded his paper, picked up his briefcase, and walked south and out of view.
"And that's it," said Peter, setting down the remote.
There was a moment's pause, then Diana made her case. "If Timmy Harris-Young was their inside man, it makes sense that the woman is the lookout."
"Or Timmy's girlfriend," argued Neal, "in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Wrong place? We don't know where she was or what she was doing during the actual heist, do we?" asked Sara accusingly.
"Peter, do we know if any of the buildings north of the museum have security cameras facing the street?" asked Jones.
"There are a couple of businesses and residential buildings just north of the museum. We're working on getting any security footage they have from yesterday."
"Well, if we ID our businessman first, we can always just ask him," joked Jones.
"What if he wasn't watching her?" Neal suggested thoughtfully. "What if he was watching for the van?"
Peter rewound the video, and they focused on the businessman after the young woman walked away.
"Hmmm," said Jones, "they both had the same view of the alley, though we definitely know the businessman was talking on the phone."
"The woman could easily have called the thieves after she started walking north," argued Sara.
"And she was smart enough to do it out of range of the museum's security cameras," Diana pointed out. Then, seeing Peter's look, added, "If she did it, that is."
"A lookout should be in place throughout the entire job," Neal critiqued, "not leaving partway through. The businessman left before the cops arrived, though, which is what you want to do, if you don't want to risk being questioned."
"But if he's the lookout," asked Sara, "then who's the inside man?
Neal shrugged, and reiterated, "There doesn't have to have been an inside man."
"I'm not sure anything in these videos really points to one of them over the other," said Jones.
"Can the tech department zoom in and see what the woman was texting?" asked Diana, "Or lip-read the businessman? That could tell us if either one is the lookout."
"They're still working on getting more detail out of the video," said Peter. "But either way, I'm going to want to talk to both of them."
"Yeah. But boss, while we're waiting for their IDs to come back…" Diana picked up the remote and rewound the video back to Timmy waving at the girl in the park. "There are a lot of discrepancies in Timmy's story. He lied about why he opened the door. He didn't mention using, or losing, his phone. And he didn't mention his girlfriend and her prepaid burner phone in the park."
"Yeah. Because he's trying to cover up their role in the heist," muttered Sara heatedly.
And Neal muttered back, "Not necessarily."
But Diana remained focused on Peter. "The texts, the videos…they've raised a lot of new questions," she coaxed. Diana knew Peter wouldn't be swayed by emotional outbursts, but cool logic might do the trick.
Peter pursed his lips and looked up at the video screen, clearly frustrated.
Diana gave Peter a moment to think, then asked, "Boss?"
Peter huffed out a breath, and made his decision. "Jones, get Mr. Harris-Young in here. I want to find out why he lied."
Then Peter suggested, "Why don't we get some lunch now, while we've got the time."
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Sara left immediately, taking her file box with her, and Peter walked over to the video screen, intending to turn the wall unit off. But the images on the screen caught his attention again, and he leaned back against the end of the table and stared up at the two young people frozen mid-wave.
"There's something going on between those two," said Peter, "but I'm just not convinced that Timmy is our inside man."
Diana paused, partway to the door, and fought down the urge to argue her case yet again.
"Trust your gut." Neal shrugged slightly as he came over to lean against the table next to Peter. Then he grinned. "After all, it's smart enough to know that I'm completely innocent."
"I did not say completely," argued Peter.
As they bantered, Diana considered the figures on the video screen. Based on the mounting evidence, she thought it likely that Harris-Young was involved in the heist. But it wasn't a joke; she really did trust Peter's instincts. And when he had requested this morning that she keep an open mind, Diana had assured him that she could. And so she put aside her own theories, and tried to consider things from a different angle.
"I think you meant to," continued Neal
"On this one case-" Peter tried to clarify.
"Oh, he did not say completely, Caffrey," Diana asserted with a smirk. Then, taking a deep breath, she asked, "So, Peter, what does your gut say about our businessman?"
Peter gave her a slight nod, pleased that she was taking his request seriously, and all three of them looked back up at the video screen.
"He looks familiar," Peter complained, "but I can't place him."
"He looks like our thieves," Neal realized. "The bits of them we can see, that is." The three of them looked over their shoulders to the pictures on the whiteboard at the other end of the room. Pictures of faces half-obscured by baseball caps and sunglasses.
"And we have a nice, clear picture of his face," said Neal, as they all turned back to the video screen.
"Well," said Diana, "if he's someone we should know, facial recognition should ID him for us soon."
"And while we wait to see if the techs can put a name to that face," said Peter, "we'll see what Mr. Harris-Young has to say for himself."